Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Man Who Sought Revenge and the Man Who Led The Parade
Fear and Regret.
Even the Leader of the Black Parade looked reverently at their graceful movements. When they moved, even the wind moved with them. Their glassy eyes kept still in the darkness. And with the dim light of the room, the Leader watched towards them.
The lone arrow that pierced the vampire’s back drew no warm blood. The vile creature didn’t have blood.
Regret, with effortless motion, pulled the arrow from where it hit the vampire. With her foot she pushed him over so he lay on his back. There was a serene, not a sorrowful look, on Sorrow’s face. The Leader watched his limp body being lifted off the ground. The vampire was only unconscious, it seemed, because the Leader heard his heavy breathing, and he knew that Regret never meant to have her arrows produce a deadly effect.
Regret swung the vampire’s arm around her neck and wordlessly turned around to where they came from in the darkness. Fear conjured a pair of cuffs from a sling on her black skirt.
The Leader felt the cold metal cuffs snap against his wrists. Fear avoided looking at the man she used to serve. She was now serving a different leader, and was ordered to retrieve the prisoners from their gloomy prison. Or so it seemed.
She pulled him away to where Regret was headed. The Leader found himself in the pitch darkness, not knowing where he was being led to. He felt Fear’s small hand press against his back to urge him on. She seemed to know where they were to go.
“Who’s giving you orders?” the Leader asked his former subordinate. For a while he felt silly because it felt like talking to himself in the dark. Fear did not reply.
“What do you need with the vampire?” he asked again, and again he received no reply from Fear.
Suddenly a small light appeared ahead. It wasn’t a bright light. It only looked like a door being opened to a place where there was some light. He saw the silhouette of Regret, dragging along with her the unconscious vampire. As they neared the open door, the Leader realized where they were headed. He heaved a sigh to suppress the emotions coming over him.
They were headed to the City. It was another dimension. But it was a familiar dimension. In fact, it was their dimension.
At last they stepped out of the door to the City. The darkness behind them vanished into a black mist that quickly turned into a vapor of grey. And then the vapor disappeared, leaving nothing.
And now they were in the City, a place the Leader knew so well he could point out and name all the buildings and places from where he stood. The buildings did not make up a skyline of looming towers and skyscrapers. There was only a set of small brick buildings and rubble and debris strewn all around – the results of a most dreadful war; but a war won.
Walking on the rutted roads of the City was a walk through memory lane for the Leader. This was his home, his sanctuary. The roads on which they now walked on were the same roads he marched on during the glory days of the Black Parade. He remembered the floats, the marching band, the music, the confetti… But confetti no longer filled the chilly air. Instead, there were spores brushing against his face, sending chills running down his spine. He now believed there was something poetic about spores in the air. Forget the confetti.
After their short walk, they stopped in front of an old brick building. An old sign suspended above the door; a thick layer of dust covered what the sign said. But the Leader knew what it said. He could almost discern the letters hidden beneath the dust.
They seemed to be waiting for someone, because Fear and Regret only stood where they are, unmoving.
“Who are we waiting for?”
But he should have known better. These two girls will surely not say anything unless ordered to. But he was glad to have heard one of them respond. It was Regret.
“We are waiting for Mother War” was her monotonous reply.
The Leader tried pulling apart the cuffs that held his wrists together. The metal was starting to annoy him. It only annoyed him even more when Mother War was mentioned. What was she doing here?
A rattling sound was heard nearby. He was familiar with that sound. He knew that sound. It was the sound of trouble approaching. It wasn’t pleasant. And then he heard the sound of heavy breathing – the breathing sound that came from under a mask. It too was an unpleasant sound.
The Leader cursed under his breath.
The famed Mother War appeared before them, solitarily walking…dragging the metal frames of her big dress. It was these rusty metal frames that made the rattling sound as she walked. Her brown puffy hair exploded from a face covered by a gas mask. The desolated city stood as a still background in her wake. The spores seemed to stop in her presence.
To everyone, she was a sight to behold; a powerful woman, and beautiful. And although no one has truly seen her face, urban legend has it that under that ghastly gas mask of hers was a face that made Venus pale in comparison.
Much respect and reverence was held for dear Mother War. In the public places, and mostly in the pubs and the squares among the dirt and debris of war, she was the subject of song and merry-making. The slangs and strays informally called her “Mama”, and out of their creative passion, wrote songs in honor of her virtues. The Leader admitted it to himself, that despite his high position in the Black Parade, Mother War was the queen of everything even beyond the Black Parade.
Fear and Regret bowed slightly to her and held their heads up high. Now the Leader knows who has been giving orders to these two girls.
“My dear” Mother War said to the Leader. The sweetness and the sternness in her voice broke him away from his reverie. One cannot help but feel awestruck at the presence of this most beloved Mother War.
The Leader gave her a weak smile and a curt nod. He had nothing to say to her really. We know his mixed feelings about this encounter.
“Do you know who put you in prison, my dear?”
“Yes. You.” replied the Leader, sensing the bitter tone in his own voice.
“I’m glad you were able to understand – “
“No, actually. I don’t understand”
“You don’t understand why I put you in prison?”
“I don’t understand what you’re up to.”
Mother War laughed under her gas mask. The Leader expected Fear and Regret to laugh with her, but he remembered that they weren’t the jolly kind. He cleared his throat.
“What?”
“Nothing, my dear” she said, letting her small laugh trail off, “Nothing at all. Except that I never imagined how you would look, all tied up.” She laughed again, and when her laughter faded she turned to the vampire, who was still unconsciously clinging to Regret.
“Ah, the Reverend is here” she said and motioned for Regret to straighten him so she could see him more clearly, “Yes, yes. Exactly. That’s him, alright. That’s him” and turning to the Leader, she added, “Well, my dear. Do I have to introduce him to you?”
The Leader shook his head. But he was surprised at finding out that the vampire he had named Sorrow was actually the Reverend, a notorious fellow who lived with his entire family in a God-forsaken place called Cemetery Drive. He looked again at his unconscious friend, and wondered why he had not recognized him in the first place.
“Oh he’ll come around” Mother War said as she examined the Reverend, “Why, he’s a handsome man, did you notice?”
“Mother War, what are you doing?” the Leader asked.
“What? Why? What’s wrong?”
“What are you up to?”
The Leader can imagine a sly smile on her masked face. But all he saw was a gas mask that made no expression whatsoever. He saw her draw near him as he listened to the rattle of her metal skirt and her heavy breathing under the mask.
“This is a discussion that must take place behind doors” she said to him, and quickly she turned on her heel and produced a grey vapor that, within moments, turned into a black mist. It was the darkness again.
“Come” she said, “And I’ll show you my grand design.”
With that, Fear, gently pushing the Leader in front of her, and Regret, carrying along the Reverend, slipped into the darkness.
But the darkness was unlike that of the darkness encountered earlier in the prison, because the darkness suddenly faded into thin air, and everyone found themselves in front of a big house. It was more of a mansion because of its great pillars and wide oaken doors. And despite its glory in size, it was a dying house, because thick weeds and dry ivies grew along the sides and climbed up the rotting wooden walls. A big fuzzy mass of white covered the upper extremities of the house. Cobwebs.
“Welcome” declared Mother War, “to my humble abode.”
As they were ushered inside by the hostess and owner of the home, Fear took off the cuffs that braced the Leader’s wrists, and Regret dragged the vampire’s body up the stairs and into a room. She must have just thrown the body onto something because she quickly left the room and rejoined her sister in the anteroom.
Mother War led her guest into an inner parlor. The house may have seemed unwelcoming from the outside, but the interior was well kept and cleaned. A small fire already had been made to warm the parlor. And like all ancient homes, portraits of unfamiliar people and tapestries bearing blurry images covered the walls and halls. The wooden floors were blanketed with thick carpets. And no cobwebs in sight.
The Leader was made to sit on an armchair by the fire. Mother War remained standing; how could she sit with that metal contraption around her waist down?
“Drinks?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I’m all out. Anyway, my dear, let’s get down to business. Let’s have a little chat. And my terms are these: I’ll give you the privilege of asking me questions. I will gladly answer them.”
“Withhold nothing then.”
“Of course.”
“First question. What are you up to?”
Mother War laughed. He knew she wanted to answer this question. And she knew she was to be asked that. After composing herself she began, with great relish, to tell him.
“My dear, I have found out the whereabouts of our enemies, the Killjoys.”
Even the Leader of the Black Parade looked reverently at their graceful movements. When they moved, even the wind moved with them. Their glassy eyes kept still in the darkness. And with the dim light of the room, the Leader watched towards them.
The lone arrow that pierced the vampire’s back drew no warm blood. The vile creature didn’t have blood.
Regret, with effortless motion, pulled the arrow from where it hit the vampire. With her foot she pushed him over so he lay on his back. There was a serene, not a sorrowful look, on Sorrow’s face. The Leader watched his limp body being lifted off the ground. The vampire was only unconscious, it seemed, because the Leader heard his heavy breathing, and he knew that Regret never meant to have her arrows produce a deadly effect.
Regret swung the vampire’s arm around her neck and wordlessly turned around to where they came from in the darkness. Fear conjured a pair of cuffs from a sling on her black skirt.
The Leader felt the cold metal cuffs snap against his wrists. Fear avoided looking at the man she used to serve. She was now serving a different leader, and was ordered to retrieve the prisoners from their gloomy prison. Or so it seemed.
She pulled him away to where Regret was headed. The Leader found himself in the pitch darkness, not knowing where he was being led to. He felt Fear’s small hand press against his back to urge him on. She seemed to know where they were to go.
“Who’s giving you orders?” the Leader asked his former subordinate. For a while he felt silly because it felt like talking to himself in the dark. Fear did not reply.
“What do you need with the vampire?” he asked again, and again he received no reply from Fear.
Suddenly a small light appeared ahead. It wasn’t a bright light. It only looked like a door being opened to a place where there was some light. He saw the silhouette of Regret, dragging along with her the unconscious vampire. As they neared the open door, the Leader realized where they were headed. He heaved a sigh to suppress the emotions coming over him.
They were headed to the City. It was another dimension. But it was a familiar dimension. In fact, it was their dimension.
At last they stepped out of the door to the City. The darkness behind them vanished into a black mist that quickly turned into a vapor of grey. And then the vapor disappeared, leaving nothing.
And now they were in the City, a place the Leader knew so well he could point out and name all the buildings and places from where he stood. The buildings did not make up a skyline of looming towers and skyscrapers. There was only a set of small brick buildings and rubble and debris strewn all around – the results of a most dreadful war; but a war won.
Walking on the rutted roads of the City was a walk through memory lane for the Leader. This was his home, his sanctuary. The roads on which they now walked on were the same roads he marched on during the glory days of the Black Parade. He remembered the floats, the marching band, the music, the confetti… But confetti no longer filled the chilly air. Instead, there were spores brushing against his face, sending chills running down his spine. He now believed there was something poetic about spores in the air. Forget the confetti.
After their short walk, they stopped in front of an old brick building. An old sign suspended above the door; a thick layer of dust covered what the sign said. But the Leader knew what it said. He could almost discern the letters hidden beneath the dust.
They seemed to be waiting for someone, because Fear and Regret only stood where they are, unmoving.
“Who are we waiting for?”
But he should have known better. These two girls will surely not say anything unless ordered to. But he was glad to have heard one of them respond. It was Regret.
“We are waiting for Mother War” was her monotonous reply.
The Leader tried pulling apart the cuffs that held his wrists together. The metal was starting to annoy him. It only annoyed him even more when Mother War was mentioned. What was she doing here?
A rattling sound was heard nearby. He was familiar with that sound. He knew that sound. It was the sound of trouble approaching. It wasn’t pleasant. And then he heard the sound of heavy breathing – the breathing sound that came from under a mask. It too was an unpleasant sound.
The Leader cursed under his breath.
The famed Mother War appeared before them, solitarily walking…dragging the metal frames of her big dress. It was these rusty metal frames that made the rattling sound as she walked. Her brown puffy hair exploded from a face covered by a gas mask. The desolated city stood as a still background in her wake. The spores seemed to stop in her presence.
To everyone, she was a sight to behold; a powerful woman, and beautiful. And although no one has truly seen her face, urban legend has it that under that ghastly gas mask of hers was a face that made Venus pale in comparison.
Much respect and reverence was held for dear Mother War. In the public places, and mostly in the pubs and the squares among the dirt and debris of war, she was the subject of song and merry-making. The slangs and strays informally called her “Mama”, and out of their creative passion, wrote songs in honor of her virtues. The Leader admitted it to himself, that despite his high position in the Black Parade, Mother War was the queen of everything even beyond the Black Parade.
Fear and Regret bowed slightly to her and held their heads up high. Now the Leader knows who has been giving orders to these two girls.
“My dear” Mother War said to the Leader. The sweetness and the sternness in her voice broke him away from his reverie. One cannot help but feel awestruck at the presence of this most beloved Mother War.
The Leader gave her a weak smile and a curt nod. He had nothing to say to her really. We know his mixed feelings about this encounter.
“Do you know who put you in prison, my dear?”
“Yes. You.” replied the Leader, sensing the bitter tone in his own voice.
“I’m glad you were able to understand – “
“No, actually. I don’t understand”
“You don’t understand why I put you in prison?”
“I don’t understand what you’re up to.”
Mother War laughed under her gas mask. The Leader expected Fear and Regret to laugh with her, but he remembered that they weren’t the jolly kind. He cleared his throat.
“What?”
“Nothing, my dear” she said, letting her small laugh trail off, “Nothing at all. Except that I never imagined how you would look, all tied up.” She laughed again, and when her laughter faded she turned to the vampire, who was still unconsciously clinging to Regret.
“Ah, the Reverend is here” she said and motioned for Regret to straighten him so she could see him more clearly, “Yes, yes. Exactly. That’s him, alright. That’s him” and turning to the Leader, she added, “Well, my dear. Do I have to introduce him to you?”
The Leader shook his head. But he was surprised at finding out that the vampire he had named Sorrow was actually the Reverend, a notorious fellow who lived with his entire family in a God-forsaken place called Cemetery Drive. He looked again at his unconscious friend, and wondered why he had not recognized him in the first place.
“Oh he’ll come around” Mother War said as she examined the Reverend, “Why, he’s a handsome man, did you notice?”
“Mother War, what are you doing?” the Leader asked.
“What? Why? What’s wrong?”
“What are you up to?”
The Leader can imagine a sly smile on her masked face. But all he saw was a gas mask that made no expression whatsoever. He saw her draw near him as he listened to the rattle of her metal skirt and her heavy breathing under the mask.
“This is a discussion that must take place behind doors” she said to him, and quickly she turned on her heel and produced a grey vapor that, within moments, turned into a black mist. It was the darkness again.
“Come” she said, “And I’ll show you my grand design.”
With that, Fear, gently pushing the Leader in front of her, and Regret, carrying along the Reverend, slipped into the darkness.
But the darkness was unlike that of the darkness encountered earlier in the prison, because the darkness suddenly faded into thin air, and everyone found themselves in front of a big house. It was more of a mansion because of its great pillars and wide oaken doors. And despite its glory in size, it was a dying house, because thick weeds and dry ivies grew along the sides and climbed up the rotting wooden walls. A big fuzzy mass of white covered the upper extremities of the house. Cobwebs.
“Welcome” declared Mother War, “to my humble abode.”
As they were ushered inside by the hostess and owner of the home, Fear took off the cuffs that braced the Leader’s wrists, and Regret dragged the vampire’s body up the stairs and into a room. She must have just thrown the body onto something because she quickly left the room and rejoined her sister in the anteroom.
Mother War led her guest into an inner parlor. The house may have seemed unwelcoming from the outside, but the interior was well kept and cleaned. A small fire already had been made to warm the parlor. And like all ancient homes, portraits of unfamiliar people and tapestries bearing blurry images covered the walls and halls. The wooden floors were blanketed with thick carpets. And no cobwebs in sight.
The Leader was made to sit on an armchair by the fire. Mother War remained standing; how could she sit with that metal contraption around her waist down?
“Drinks?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I’m all out. Anyway, my dear, let’s get down to business. Let’s have a little chat. And my terms are these: I’ll give you the privilege of asking me questions. I will gladly answer them.”
“Withhold nothing then.”
“Of course.”
“First question. What are you up to?”
Mother War laughed. He knew she wanted to answer this question. And she knew she was to be asked that. After composing herself she began, with great relish, to tell him.
“My dear, I have found out the whereabouts of our enemies, the Killjoys.”
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