Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Dolce Vendetta
0 reviewsAnd at that Fun Ghoul had to laugh. Because the irony was not lost on him. Or maybe this was some kind of joke. The great Party Poison dying because of poison. Killjoy! AU
0Unrated
Hey everybody! This is my first time publishing on this site. The story originally started off as a note on my iPhone, because my stupid brain woke me up at 2 in the morning, and wouldn't let me go back to sleep until I jotted this down. So, I've decided to do something productive and publish it. Eventually, it will be Frerard. That's it, I guess (I really suck at this Author's Note crap). Please review and comment! And be honest- if this fanfic's full of shit, I want to know.
Disclaimer: I do not own MCR (obviously) and this is just written for my dirty little fangirl pleasure.
Warnings: Lots of cussing, violence & blood, loads of hurt/comfort... Enjoy!
Dolce Vendetta- Chapter 1
It was as nice as a day as one could get in California nowadays. The sun wasn't too scorching hot, and, if you stayed really still, you could feel a ghost of a breeze brush against your skin. 'Of course,' Fun Ghoul mused, 'if there's a nice day here, I really don't want to see what the other Zones are like. Or if the other Zones are still scraping by.' They were lucky here in Cali- the heat they could somehow stand (other than the occasional fainting spell from Kobra, but honestly, the Kid was a fucking pussy, and would probably have a heat spell in the middle of fuckin Antarctica) and the territory was wide open, so, unlike in the other Zones, they actually see when the Draculoids were trying to get them. And while they lacked on the benefit of shelter and cover, shooting Dracs was better for their cause in the long run, and fun as fuck.
So, all in all, not the worst way to start the beginning of the week. Or was it the middle? Fun Ghoul didn't bother keeping track anymore. All their days revolved around the same schedule- wake up, patrol, steal whatever shit they could find, kill some motherfuckers, and go to bed. Sometimes, if they were feeling particularly badass, they would kill some motherfuckers first, and then steal whatever shit they could find. It wasn't as terrible as it sounded. It was much worse out in the other Zones he knew. Dr. D would usually send out quick broadcasts over the airwaves on the other Zones' conditions (although exactly how he gets that information beats Fun Ghoul) and Poison always has the radio on, even though it's old and crappy and you can barely make out anything over the static. But, Poison would never throw it out claiming he was "sentimental or some shit". The other Killjoys knew though, that having that radio near made him feel safer. As the group's leader, he had to not only protect three complete idiots, a tiny girl and himself, but also the Zone.
Zone 6 escaped relatively unscratched because there were only really five of them, and they were pretty isolated. So while the other Zones were being exterminated by Draculoids, or starving, or freezing, they were running around like fuckin nine year olds left home alone for the first time in their lives, blowing shit up, staying up late and shooting at random cacti, and then blowing up some more shit.
Fun Ghoul could already check of three of the five daily tasks. He woke up, hungry- but when were they not hungry? Getting a decent and satisfying meal around here was as possible as pigs flying. And although a lot of weird shit happened these past few years, Fun Ghoul didn't see any flying pigs in the sky lately. After waking up, and wolfing down a granola bar (contrary to popular belief, Twinkies didn't survive the apocalypse) and then snuck another one out to eat during patrol, he left their makeshift camp. It was his turn to patrol the eastern border, and he loved doing that because that's where the most Draculoid scum hung out. It was also furthest away from camp, so he didn't have to worry that Jet Star would decide to spontaneously drop in and help him with patrol.
By the end of his patrol, he killed eleven Dracs (a personal best) stole ten guns off their corpses, and found a few rations in one knapsack. All in all, a pretty damn good patrol.
He headed back to base, hoping that no one was there. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could smuggle some of the rations to his bunk. Although he knew that it wasn't fair to the other Killjoys, he knew for a fact that Jet Star did it too. Kobra didn't have to worry about stealing rations, because Poison usually gave him and Grace at least half of his meal. Perks of being related and being a kid, he supposed.
But, it seems that luck wasn't on his side today. Once he was inside base, he was greeted by Kobra Kid, Jet Star and Grace.
"Where the fuck were you?!" Jet Star yelled.
"Just finished patrol. Chill dude. I found some shit." he replied, holding up the knapsack full of goodies.
"Didn't you get our broadcasts? We were calling you for over an hour!"
Actually, he did get the signals, but ignored them in favor of killing those crazy sons of bitches. Plus, talking to his friends while eating the food he stole from them makes him feel ridiculously guilty.
"Nope," he lied easily, "Transmitter must be broken. What happen? Shouldn't you guys be patrolling the borders?"
"There was... An accident." Jet Star said slowly.
"Accident? What happen?"
"Poison." was all Jet Star had to say.
"Whattya mean Poison? What happen? Jesus Star!"
"There was an ambush." Kobra said after a pause. "Poison was attacked from behind. He killed all of those motherfuckers, but..."
"Where is he?!" Fun Ghoul said, trying not to go into panic mode. But Jesus, couldn't he have answered his transmitter for once?!
"He's in there." Kobra said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the base. "It... It's not pretty."
"How bad?"
Grace, who to this moment stood silently next to them, burst into tears. Fun Ghoul stared at her surprised. Grace was usually a really quiet thing, only acting up when she got cranky. But, Fun Ghoul supposed he could understand that. He was nearly twenty five years older than her, and he got cranky sometimes too.
"There was so much blood! And... And Poison wasn't breathing! And he can't leave! He can't! Who else will tell me stories and take care of Kobra! And... And..."
She trailed of sill sobbing. Everyone knew that Grace liked Poison the most out of them. No one took it personally. After all, he was the one who found her and took her in. Plus, he spent more time catering to her than anyone else.
Fun Ghoul was torn as Jet Star bent down to hug the poor little girl. He knew he should comfort her too, but damn it, Poison was hurt. Poison. Their fearless leader, who took more bullshit from them than anyone else he knew. Poison, who snuck Kobra and Grave his food even though he was obviously hungry and way too skinny. Poison, who did double duty patrol more than once for Jet Star who was too lazy to haul his ass out of bed. And it was Poison, damn it, who covered Fun Ghoul's ass more times than he could count. Poison couldn't just die. If he did, they would all fall apart.
Making up his mind, he brushed past Star, Grace and Kobra and entered the tent. Nothing could be worse than Poison dying. Not even little Grace's tears.
Disclaimer: I do not own MCR (obviously) and this is just written for my dirty little fangirl pleasure.
Warnings: Lots of cussing, violence & blood, loads of hurt/comfort... Enjoy!
Dolce Vendetta- Chapter 1
It was as nice as a day as one could get in California nowadays. The sun wasn't too scorching hot, and, if you stayed really still, you could feel a ghost of a breeze brush against your skin. 'Of course,' Fun Ghoul mused, 'if there's a nice day here, I really don't want to see what the other Zones are like. Or if the other Zones are still scraping by.' They were lucky here in Cali- the heat they could somehow stand (other than the occasional fainting spell from Kobra, but honestly, the Kid was a fucking pussy, and would probably have a heat spell in the middle of fuckin Antarctica) and the territory was wide open, so, unlike in the other Zones, they actually see when the Draculoids were trying to get them. And while they lacked on the benefit of shelter and cover, shooting Dracs was better for their cause in the long run, and fun as fuck.
So, all in all, not the worst way to start the beginning of the week. Or was it the middle? Fun Ghoul didn't bother keeping track anymore. All their days revolved around the same schedule- wake up, patrol, steal whatever shit they could find, kill some motherfuckers, and go to bed. Sometimes, if they were feeling particularly badass, they would kill some motherfuckers first, and then steal whatever shit they could find. It wasn't as terrible as it sounded. It was much worse out in the other Zones he knew. Dr. D would usually send out quick broadcasts over the airwaves on the other Zones' conditions (although exactly how he gets that information beats Fun Ghoul) and Poison always has the radio on, even though it's old and crappy and you can barely make out anything over the static. But, Poison would never throw it out claiming he was "sentimental or some shit". The other Killjoys knew though, that having that radio near made him feel safer. As the group's leader, he had to not only protect three complete idiots, a tiny girl and himself, but also the Zone.
Zone 6 escaped relatively unscratched because there were only really five of them, and they were pretty isolated. So while the other Zones were being exterminated by Draculoids, or starving, or freezing, they were running around like fuckin nine year olds left home alone for the first time in their lives, blowing shit up, staying up late and shooting at random cacti, and then blowing up some more shit.
Fun Ghoul could already check of three of the five daily tasks. He woke up, hungry- but when were they not hungry? Getting a decent and satisfying meal around here was as possible as pigs flying. And although a lot of weird shit happened these past few years, Fun Ghoul didn't see any flying pigs in the sky lately. After waking up, and wolfing down a granola bar (contrary to popular belief, Twinkies didn't survive the apocalypse) and then snuck another one out to eat during patrol, he left their makeshift camp. It was his turn to patrol the eastern border, and he loved doing that because that's where the most Draculoid scum hung out. It was also furthest away from camp, so he didn't have to worry that Jet Star would decide to spontaneously drop in and help him with patrol.
By the end of his patrol, he killed eleven Dracs (a personal best) stole ten guns off their corpses, and found a few rations in one knapsack. All in all, a pretty damn good patrol.
He headed back to base, hoping that no one was there. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could smuggle some of the rations to his bunk. Although he knew that it wasn't fair to the other Killjoys, he knew for a fact that Jet Star did it too. Kobra didn't have to worry about stealing rations, because Poison usually gave him and Grace at least half of his meal. Perks of being related and being a kid, he supposed.
But, it seems that luck wasn't on his side today. Once he was inside base, he was greeted by Kobra Kid, Jet Star and Grace.
"Where the fuck were you?!" Jet Star yelled.
"Just finished patrol. Chill dude. I found some shit." he replied, holding up the knapsack full of goodies.
"Didn't you get our broadcasts? We were calling you for over an hour!"
Actually, he did get the signals, but ignored them in favor of killing those crazy sons of bitches. Plus, talking to his friends while eating the food he stole from them makes him feel ridiculously guilty.
"Nope," he lied easily, "Transmitter must be broken. What happen? Shouldn't you guys be patrolling the borders?"
"There was... An accident." Jet Star said slowly.
"Accident? What happen?"
"Poison." was all Jet Star had to say.
"Whattya mean Poison? What happen? Jesus Star!"
"There was an ambush." Kobra said after a pause. "Poison was attacked from behind. He killed all of those motherfuckers, but..."
"Where is he?!" Fun Ghoul said, trying not to go into panic mode. But Jesus, couldn't he have answered his transmitter for once?!
"He's in there." Kobra said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the base. "It... It's not pretty."
"How bad?"
Grace, who to this moment stood silently next to them, burst into tears. Fun Ghoul stared at her surprised. Grace was usually a really quiet thing, only acting up when she got cranky. But, Fun Ghoul supposed he could understand that. He was nearly twenty five years older than her, and he got cranky sometimes too.
"There was so much blood! And... And Poison wasn't breathing! And he can't leave! He can't! Who else will tell me stories and take care of Kobra! And... And..."
She trailed of sill sobbing. Everyone knew that Grace liked Poison the most out of them. No one took it personally. After all, he was the one who found her and took her in. Plus, he spent more time catering to her than anyone else.
Fun Ghoul was torn as Jet Star bent down to hug the poor little girl. He knew he should comfort her too, but damn it, Poison was hurt. Poison. Their fearless leader, who took more bullshit from them than anyone else he knew. Poison, who snuck Kobra and Grave his food even though he was obviously hungry and way too skinny. Poison, who did double duty patrol more than once for Jet Star who was too lazy to haul his ass out of bed. And it was Poison, damn it, who covered Fun Ghoul's ass more times than he could count. Poison couldn't just die. If he did, they would all fall apart.
Making up his mind, he brushed past Star, Grace and Kobra and entered the tent. Nothing could be worse than Poison dying. Not even little Grace's tears.
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