Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Thursday
Yeah, chapter two! I know, since you are all just as sick of fucks as I am, you might like this chapter.
By the way, I never made this clear. My apologies. Chapter one was sort of a flash forward. This chapter does take place in present day right now. I was just using last chapter to sorta ‘set the scene.’ I know that it is SUPER confusing, but it will make more sense at the end of this story.
I hope you know military time, because I am not going to explain it. This story will take place in military time. Don’t know it? Then learn it.
Thursday
Beretta
“Go! Now! Fucking idiots, move!”
8:41
“Shit dude, you are one mother fucker.” Frank giggled as he inhaled a large puff of smoke from his cigarette. Mikey got up from his seat on his sofa next to Frank and walked to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, clinking some bottles.
“You wanna beer?” Mikey asked still giggling from his previously told joke. Mikey picked up two beers from the bottom of the cooler. Mikey walked half way towards the couch and stopped to stare at Frank, who was indeed smirking. “When was the last time you had a beer at eight in the morning?”
“Dude, I always have beers now…but probably seven years ago.” Frank said and walked up to Mikey, stealing a beer from his hand. Frank walked back into the kitchen and popped the bottle top on the sink edge.
“Don’t throw that crap into my sick. What the fuck?” Mikey followed Frank’s movements. Frank just shrugged.
“Whatever…so why am I here so early?” Frank stared at Mikey.
“I don’t know, you just barged in and I just told you that one story about that some bitch.” Mikey shrugged. Frank and Mikey had been very good friends for about six-ish years.
“Well she sounds like a bitch. What the fuck is she doing in here, anyways?” Frank questioned.
“I don’t know, first- it’s a male, not a female. Second- ‘he’ was here because ‘he’ felt the need to come back and try and kick my ass.” Frank took another deep inhale from his smoke, then tried to blow a smoke ring; but fail. Mikey smirked at him for it. The latter inhaled from his cig, and blew a perfect smoke ring into Frank face.
“Why the fuck did he even want to kick your ass? What the fuck did you do to him?” Frank scowled at the fucker spoken of.
“I never paid him back. I owe him a big G and I never wanted to pay up the doe. I mean, he burst into my home and pulls out his stupid Beretta. And shouts “Mother fucker, where the fuck is my money!’. Normally when someone pulls a fucking gun to your fucking face…you do as they say. But I just stood up and punched him the face. The stupid fucker’s nose bled everywhere. So I hit him again for getting blood on me. Then-“
“Dude, you weight like forty pounds and you still managed to knock him out…damn.” Frank interrupted Mikey as they both sat back down on Mikey’s red sofa.
“They say the damn Russian’s are fearless…but... we Italians can be pretty scary too.” Mikey smirked at his fascistic comment.
“No. Italians are stupid…People who are fearless are just stupid. Especially when they get hurt.”
“Then that ginzo cunt should be fucking stoned if every time he did somtin’ stupid. Fuck.” Mikey grinned while a forgotten pile of ash on his cigarette fell to the floor. Frank just giggled. “He said he was going to pay me a visit some time this week.”
“Shit… I'm so fucking tired.” Frank relaxed his head down on the couch, groaning whilst doing so. Mikey laughed and strode off the sofa and back into the kitchen. He opened a tiny drawer, pulling out a small, but long, black object. Mikey strode back over to Frank who was already sleeping.
“Damn dude.” Mikey smirked and pulled something small and black of the tip of his sharpie. “You gonna enjoy this.” The awake bent down to eye level with Frank and drew marks about Frank’s upper lip. Frank stirred in his sleep as he felt the tip of the marker across his face. Next, after Mikey’s barbell stash, he worked on scribbling a square beard on Frank’s chin.
Once Mikey finished, he lifted himself back up. He had to admit, Frank looked like a meaner person with facial hair.
10:27-A.M
Mikey had let Frank to sleep on the couch because he had nothing better to do. But that’s what he only knew because they’re a loud pounding on the door. Since the door is hollow, it creates an even louder and more annoying noise than usual. Currently, Mikey was in the kitchen brewing coffee when the pounds came.
“Fuck” Mikey whispered and strolled over to the door because the banging was constant. It just wouldn’t stop. The door was really going to get it some day. This is sort of weird because Mikey never has anyone over except Frank; even Frank doesn’t knock. He just barges in unannounced.
Mikey swings the door in a very annoying manor. “Hello. Quite friendly today, are we?” Fuck, it’s him. This man was the mother fucker who tried to kill him for not paying him back. The kid with the vampire attire and back hair.
“Shut up…What do you want?” Mikey scolded.
“Hmm… I was under the impression that I was the superior here, but okay. Let’s get to the point. You owe me money. And to help pay it off, I need a favor from you.” He said it in a questioning tone, but it was certainly not a question.
“What the fuck do you want, Gerard?” Mikey was annoyed as fuck when Gerard just pushed him out of his way and walked into Mikey’s very own home. Privacy was a big part of Mikey, besides Frank. Mikey slammed his door loudly to let the other know he was annoyed. Gerard didn’t even move or jump at the slam; he just continued to study a sleeping Frank on Mikey’s couch. The taller man named Gerard lifted a tiny smirk on his face.
“No. you sick fuck. No. Leave him the fuck alone. No!” Mikey yelled but Gerard still didn’t budge. In fact, he slid closer over to Frank so he was about only two feet away. The creepy man bent down about a few inches to study Frank even closer.
“What wrong with his face?” Gerard looked confused, not annoyed or displeased. He bent back up to his full height and stared at Mikey.
“I, uh I drew on his face…” Mikey looked at his feet with no regrets. Gerard smiled shortly then frowned right away.
“Nice. Good look for him. And, yes I do think he can be in of help to me.” Gerard looked back at Frank. Mikey had a very discomforting look on his face.
“No. He had nothing to do with you or me. Leave him alone.” Mikey stared directly into Gerard’s soul, nothing pleasant about that.
“Well, you owe me your life or one grand. And he will probably suffice too.” Gerard stepped closer to Frank and placed his hand on Frank’s hip. Mikey did not take kindly to that so he ran up to Gerard and slapped him sharply across the face.
Gerard removed his hand and replaced it on his own, stinging cheek. He shared a cold, disgusted look with his brother. Both men adverted their eyes from each other and looked at Frank when he woke up.
“Whoa! What the fuc-uk? Frank forced his eyes to grow wide as fuck when he saw Gerard. “Who the fuck is this?”
“Such language. I'm the mother fucker who owns the Beretta. You. Are going to help me out. Along with him.” He pointed from Frank to Mikey. Mikey scowled and Frank didn’t seem to give a shit. “I surprisingly, got my self into deep shit.”
“What…what did you do?” Frank asked innocently and stood up off the red sofa. The other two chuckled when they got a good look at Franks face. Frank just stared at them for a minute confused. “What the fuck is so damn funny?” That just made the two boys laugh more which made Frank angry. “Oh shut the fuck up you fucking cunt shitheads!”
“Mikey.” They both started to giggle in sync so hard that Gerard found it hard to speak. “Mi-Mikey.” Frank is a very volatile person who does not like to control his anger. He fucking embraces it. Seeing the two laugh so hard made Frank mad. So mad that Frank raised his fist and
Gerard found his jaw collide with it.
Instantly everyone stopped laughing. When Frank hit Gerard, he stumbled a bit backwards, gripping his jaw. Mikey whispered ‘Oh fuck’ under his breath as he watched Gerard. People who still have their sanity never ever hit Gerard.
Frank stared at Gerard coldly. Mikey could already tell by Gerard’s expression that Frank was truly and properly fucked.
“Frank…what the fuck? Why the fuck did you hit him?” Mikey scolded, but Frank did not look rueful.
“You guys were laughing at me…I ought to punch you too. So tell me what is so mother fucking funny.” Frank was stubborn. Gerard pulled out his stupid Beretta and faced it at Frank. “Ohh, I'm so scared.” Frank mocked waving his hands.
Mikey rubbed his temples at Frank. Gerard twirled his gun then hit Frank in the eye with the butt. Frank didn’t expect that; he fell straight to the floor, knocked out.
“Too pretty to kill. Very annoying though…” Gerard smirked. “You’re coming with me.” He pointed to Mikey, who sighed way to loudly and involuntarily. What the fuck. Mikey knew that he would have to ‘help him out’.
October, 2007
23:38
“Go! Now! Fucking idiots, move!” Gerard shouted. Him, Mikey, Bob were standing in a midnight dark parking lot. Gerard hid his holster under his jacket, along with Mikey.
“Why the fuck do we need that kind of artillery for? You said no killing!” Bob yelled. He picked up his big duffel bag. The three men approached the front door of the house. Gerard banged angrily on the front door.
“Just in case. Now shut up and do your work!” Mikey spat back for Gerard. “Gerard, don’t you need your thing?”
“No. I don’t need to wear the collar here. These people aren’t going to care.” Gerard replied. He had thought that through, he didn’t need anything but his holster and duffel bag.
The door was yanked open. A young female with dark hair answered, “What?”
“Bob.” Gerard ordered. Bob lifted up his duffel bag to show the young Mexican-American girl. She nodded and slammed the door closed.
“Get in.” A man with blond hair said. The three boys walked in. A tiny dark haired man appeared too. They gave Bob a successful pat down. They gave Mikey a successful pat down. When Blondie tried to give Gerard a pat down, he pushed the man hard against the wall,
“No.” Gerard stated firmly. Blondie pushed Gerard back. Gerard was getting ready to punch the fucker, but Mikey stopped him in time.
“Fine. In.” They all walked inside the huge room. There were a lot of people there – they did not have friendly faces. “Why are you here?”
“I think you damn well know why we’re here. Don’t play stupid with me, Stump.” Gerard spat back. Patrick flinched at how nasty his voice sounded.
“Hey, you said that I have until the end of the month to get your money to you!” Patrick shouted. He knew that Gerard wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t so sure about himself. One of Patrick’s henchmen, Pete, stood behind him with a shotgun.
“I did say that. Three months ago. And do you know what day it is today? Do you know what time it is today? Hmmmm?” Gerard didn’t sound as mean as he did before; he sounded as if he were talking to a child. He was acting more professional than before.
“What – do I look like a walking calendar to you? Come on, Way.” Patrick begged. Him and his men normally were able to get the job done the quickest and the most efficient out of all of the gangs in New Jersey. But with Way, that was a whole different subject. Gerard wasn’t in a ‘gang.’ It was only Gerard, his brother, and a few other people who work with him. People call Way slow moving and non-diligent, but he thought they were more sneaky that way.
“Don’t call me that.” Gerard shouted. When he is ‘working,’ everyone knows not to call him by his name. People aren’t allowed to tell names when doing illegal ‘work.’
“Whatever. You were just calling me by my name!” Patrick shouted. Everyone knows that Patrick was the toughest in all of New Jersey.
“Whatever. Now, I am going to ask you for the last time. Where. Is. My. Damn. Money?” More people in Patrick’s side ganged closer with firearms in their hands. Bob was off talking to the few females there; Mikey was playing Goldfish with a few people at the table. Gerard wasn’t scared that he was by himself.
“You. Said. End. Of. Month!” Patrick scolded back. Mikey jumped up from the table, clutching his weapon. (Snub nose .38) Gerard scowled. Don’t these people own a calendar?
Gerard sighed before speaking: “Patrick, it is the end of the month. It’s the thirty-first of August.” A very short boy with hair similar to Pete’s – who was also sitting at the table with Mikey – stood up and pulled is pistol out into his hand. Shit is about to get messy.
“What? Then… give me till the end of next month. I promise that I will have your money, plus interest, by then. Come on, Way. You know how tough the economy is.” Patrick begged. Gerard mentally cringed when people begged.
“Your new car says you’re lying. Anyway.” Gerard quickly pulled out his two hand machine guns and shot Patrick three times in the head. Next he shot Patrick’s best friend, Pete – the prick. Mikey shot the other three people behind where Patrick stood. That happened all in fewer than twenty seconds. The bangs from the guns were too loud from what was expected.
The last two men pulled out their guns and cornered the Way brothers. Bob – because he was off socializing with the females – snuck up from behind and shot them. They were dead before they hit the ground. Lucky bastards. Bob had shot them each about ten to twenty times.
“Why didn’t you use your silencer, Gerard?” Mikey asked, very pissed off.
“Shut up.” Gerard responded. His bullets were too loud – people in the neighborhood could here – and he never put his silencer on. “Bob, storm their bedrooms. I know they have money.”
“Why didn’t you use your fucking silencer, Gerard!?” Mikey screamed louder.
“Why don’t you go door to door telling everybody my damn name!?” Gerard shouted back, even louder and more pissed off than usual.
“Hey, I found this. Twenty grand.” Bob threw the briefcase over for Gerard to catch it.
One girl – the chick who answered the door – came out of another room, screaming with an AK-47 in her hands.
“HEY!” Bob shouted before she had the chance to shoot at Gerard and Mikey. “Hey, Jen, DON’T SHOOT!”
“No! Those bastards killed Patrick!” The girl Bob referred to as Jen shouted.
“It’s okay. They won’t kill you, if you don’t kill them.” She seemed to calm down significantly. Even though, how could they kill her, if she already killed them?
“Okay… okay… I won’t kill them.” She said with the fake smile. That fake smile only meant one thing: revenge.
“Good. Come on, we should go before the cops come.” Bob said. Just like that, the boys were out of the door.
You like?
I hope this chapter was good enough for you.
I promise that I will update HONJ tomorrow. I promise I will.
Next chapter: Laboris
By the way, I never made this clear. My apologies. Chapter one was sort of a flash forward. This chapter does take place in present day right now. I was just using last chapter to sorta ‘set the scene.’ I know that it is SUPER confusing, but it will make more sense at the end of this story.
I hope you know military time, because I am not going to explain it. This story will take place in military time. Don’t know it? Then learn it.
Thursday
Beretta
“Go! Now! Fucking idiots, move!”
8:41
“Shit dude, you are one mother fucker.” Frank giggled as he inhaled a large puff of smoke from his cigarette. Mikey got up from his seat on his sofa next to Frank and walked to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, clinking some bottles.
“You wanna beer?” Mikey asked still giggling from his previously told joke. Mikey picked up two beers from the bottom of the cooler. Mikey walked half way towards the couch and stopped to stare at Frank, who was indeed smirking. “When was the last time you had a beer at eight in the morning?”
“Dude, I always have beers now…but probably seven years ago.” Frank said and walked up to Mikey, stealing a beer from his hand. Frank walked back into the kitchen and popped the bottle top on the sink edge.
“Don’t throw that crap into my sick. What the fuck?” Mikey followed Frank’s movements. Frank just shrugged.
“Whatever…so why am I here so early?” Frank stared at Mikey.
“I don’t know, you just barged in and I just told you that one story about that some bitch.” Mikey shrugged. Frank and Mikey had been very good friends for about six-ish years.
“Well she sounds like a bitch. What the fuck is she doing in here, anyways?” Frank questioned.
“I don’t know, first- it’s a male, not a female. Second- ‘he’ was here because ‘he’ felt the need to come back and try and kick my ass.” Frank took another deep inhale from his smoke, then tried to blow a smoke ring; but fail. Mikey smirked at him for it. The latter inhaled from his cig, and blew a perfect smoke ring into Frank face.
“Why the fuck did he even want to kick your ass? What the fuck did you do to him?” Frank scowled at the fucker spoken of.
“I never paid him back. I owe him a big G and I never wanted to pay up the doe. I mean, he burst into my home and pulls out his stupid Beretta. And shouts “Mother fucker, where the fuck is my money!’. Normally when someone pulls a fucking gun to your fucking face…you do as they say. But I just stood up and punched him the face. The stupid fucker’s nose bled everywhere. So I hit him again for getting blood on me. Then-“
“Dude, you weight like forty pounds and you still managed to knock him out…damn.” Frank interrupted Mikey as they both sat back down on Mikey’s red sofa.
“They say the damn Russian’s are fearless…but... we Italians can be pretty scary too.” Mikey smirked at his fascistic comment.
“No. Italians are stupid…People who are fearless are just stupid. Especially when they get hurt.”
“Then that ginzo cunt should be fucking stoned if every time he did somtin’ stupid. Fuck.” Mikey grinned while a forgotten pile of ash on his cigarette fell to the floor. Frank just giggled. “He said he was going to pay me a visit some time this week.”
“Shit… I'm so fucking tired.” Frank relaxed his head down on the couch, groaning whilst doing so. Mikey laughed and strode off the sofa and back into the kitchen. He opened a tiny drawer, pulling out a small, but long, black object. Mikey strode back over to Frank who was already sleeping.
“Damn dude.” Mikey smirked and pulled something small and black of the tip of his sharpie. “You gonna enjoy this.” The awake bent down to eye level with Frank and drew marks about Frank’s upper lip. Frank stirred in his sleep as he felt the tip of the marker across his face. Next, after Mikey’s barbell stash, he worked on scribbling a square beard on Frank’s chin.
Once Mikey finished, he lifted himself back up. He had to admit, Frank looked like a meaner person with facial hair.
10:27-A.M
Mikey had let Frank to sleep on the couch because he had nothing better to do. But that’s what he only knew because they’re a loud pounding on the door. Since the door is hollow, it creates an even louder and more annoying noise than usual. Currently, Mikey was in the kitchen brewing coffee when the pounds came.
“Fuck” Mikey whispered and strolled over to the door because the banging was constant. It just wouldn’t stop. The door was really going to get it some day. This is sort of weird because Mikey never has anyone over except Frank; even Frank doesn’t knock. He just barges in unannounced.
Mikey swings the door in a very annoying manor. “Hello. Quite friendly today, are we?” Fuck, it’s him. This man was the mother fucker who tried to kill him for not paying him back. The kid with the vampire attire and back hair.
“Shut up…What do you want?” Mikey scolded.
“Hmm… I was under the impression that I was the superior here, but okay. Let’s get to the point. You owe me money. And to help pay it off, I need a favor from you.” He said it in a questioning tone, but it was certainly not a question.
“What the fuck do you want, Gerard?” Mikey was annoyed as fuck when Gerard just pushed him out of his way and walked into Mikey’s very own home. Privacy was a big part of Mikey, besides Frank. Mikey slammed his door loudly to let the other know he was annoyed. Gerard didn’t even move or jump at the slam; he just continued to study a sleeping Frank on Mikey’s couch. The taller man named Gerard lifted a tiny smirk on his face.
“No. you sick fuck. No. Leave him the fuck alone. No!” Mikey yelled but Gerard still didn’t budge. In fact, he slid closer over to Frank so he was about only two feet away. The creepy man bent down about a few inches to study Frank even closer.
“What wrong with his face?” Gerard looked confused, not annoyed or displeased. He bent back up to his full height and stared at Mikey.
“I, uh I drew on his face…” Mikey looked at his feet with no regrets. Gerard smiled shortly then frowned right away.
“Nice. Good look for him. And, yes I do think he can be in of help to me.” Gerard looked back at Frank. Mikey had a very discomforting look on his face.
“No. He had nothing to do with you or me. Leave him alone.” Mikey stared directly into Gerard’s soul, nothing pleasant about that.
“Well, you owe me your life or one grand. And he will probably suffice too.” Gerard stepped closer to Frank and placed his hand on Frank’s hip. Mikey did not take kindly to that so he ran up to Gerard and slapped him sharply across the face.
Gerard removed his hand and replaced it on his own, stinging cheek. He shared a cold, disgusted look with his brother. Both men adverted their eyes from each other and looked at Frank when he woke up.
“Whoa! What the fuc-uk? Frank forced his eyes to grow wide as fuck when he saw Gerard. “Who the fuck is this?”
“Such language. I'm the mother fucker who owns the Beretta. You. Are going to help me out. Along with him.” He pointed from Frank to Mikey. Mikey scowled and Frank didn’t seem to give a shit. “I surprisingly, got my self into deep shit.”
“What…what did you do?” Frank asked innocently and stood up off the red sofa. The other two chuckled when they got a good look at Franks face. Frank just stared at them for a minute confused. “What the fuck is so damn funny?” That just made the two boys laugh more which made Frank angry. “Oh shut the fuck up you fucking cunt shitheads!”
“Mikey.” They both started to giggle in sync so hard that Gerard found it hard to speak. “Mi-Mikey.” Frank is a very volatile person who does not like to control his anger. He fucking embraces it. Seeing the two laugh so hard made Frank mad. So mad that Frank raised his fist and
Gerard found his jaw collide with it.
Instantly everyone stopped laughing. When Frank hit Gerard, he stumbled a bit backwards, gripping his jaw. Mikey whispered ‘Oh fuck’ under his breath as he watched Gerard. People who still have their sanity never ever hit Gerard.
Frank stared at Gerard coldly. Mikey could already tell by Gerard’s expression that Frank was truly and properly fucked.
“Frank…what the fuck? Why the fuck did you hit him?” Mikey scolded, but Frank did not look rueful.
“You guys were laughing at me…I ought to punch you too. So tell me what is so mother fucking funny.” Frank was stubborn. Gerard pulled out his stupid Beretta and faced it at Frank. “Ohh, I'm so scared.” Frank mocked waving his hands.
Mikey rubbed his temples at Frank. Gerard twirled his gun then hit Frank in the eye with the butt. Frank didn’t expect that; he fell straight to the floor, knocked out.
“Too pretty to kill. Very annoying though…” Gerard smirked. “You’re coming with me.” He pointed to Mikey, who sighed way to loudly and involuntarily. What the fuck. Mikey knew that he would have to ‘help him out’.
October, 2007
23:38
“Go! Now! Fucking idiots, move!” Gerard shouted. Him, Mikey, Bob were standing in a midnight dark parking lot. Gerard hid his holster under his jacket, along with Mikey.
“Why the fuck do we need that kind of artillery for? You said no killing!” Bob yelled. He picked up his big duffel bag. The three men approached the front door of the house. Gerard banged angrily on the front door.
“Just in case. Now shut up and do your work!” Mikey spat back for Gerard. “Gerard, don’t you need your thing?”
“No. I don’t need to wear the collar here. These people aren’t going to care.” Gerard replied. He had thought that through, he didn’t need anything but his holster and duffel bag.
The door was yanked open. A young female with dark hair answered, “What?”
“Bob.” Gerard ordered. Bob lifted up his duffel bag to show the young Mexican-American girl. She nodded and slammed the door closed.
“Get in.” A man with blond hair said. The three boys walked in. A tiny dark haired man appeared too. They gave Bob a successful pat down. They gave Mikey a successful pat down. When Blondie tried to give Gerard a pat down, he pushed the man hard against the wall,
“No.” Gerard stated firmly. Blondie pushed Gerard back. Gerard was getting ready to punch the fucker, but Mikey stopped him in time.
“Fine. In.” They all walked inside the huge room. There were a lot of people there – they did not have friendly faces. “Why are you here?”
“I think you damn well know why we’re here. Don’t play stupid with me, Stump.” Gerard spat back. Patrick flinched at how nasty his voice sounded.
“Hey, you said that I have until the end of the month to get your money to you!” Patrick shouted. He knew that Gerard wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t so sure about himself. One of Patrick’s henchmen, Pete, stood behind him with a shotgun.
“I did say that. Three months ago. And do you know what day it is today? Do you know what time it is today? Hmmmm?” Gerard didn’t sound as mean as he did before; he sounded as if he were talking to a child. He was acting more professional than before.
“What – do I look like a walking calendar to you? Come on, Way.” Patrick begged. Him and his men normally were able to get the job done the quickest and the most efficient out of all of the gangs in New Jersey. But with Way, that was a whole different subject. Gerard wasn’t in a ‘gang.’ It was only Gerard, his brother, and a few other people who work with him. People call Way slow moving and non-diligent, but he thought they were more sneaky that way.
“Don’t call me that.” Gerard shouted. When he is ‘working,’ everyone knows not to call him by his name. People aren’t allowed to tell names when doing illegal ‘work.’
“Whatever. You were just calling me by my name!” Patrick shouted. Everyone knows that Patrick was the toughest in all of New Jersey.
“Whatever. Now, I am going to ask you for the last time. Where. Is. My. Damn. Money?” More people in Patrick’s side ganged closer with firearms in their hands. Bob was off talking to the few females there; Mikey was playing Goldfish with a few people at the table. Gerard wasn’t scared that he was by himself.
“You. Said. End. Of. Month!” Patrick scolded back. Mikey jumped up from the table, clutching his weapon. (Snub nose .38) Gerard scowled. Don’t these people own a calendar?
Gerard sighed before speaking: “Patrick, it is the end of the month. It’s the thirty-first of August.” A very short boy with hair similar to Pete’s – who was also sitting at the table with Mikey – stood up and pulled is pistol out into his hand. Shit is about to get messy.
“What? Then… give me till the end of next month. I promise that I will have your money, plus interest, by then. Come on, Way. You know how tough the economy is.” Patrick begged. Gerard mentally cringed when people begged.
“Your new car says you’re lying. Anyway.” Gerard quickly pulled out his two hand machine guns and shot Patrick three times in the head. Next he shot Patrick’s best friend, Pete – the prick. Mikey shot the other three people behind where Patrick stood. That happened all in fewer than twenty seconds. The bangs from the guns were too loud from what was expected.
The last two men pulled out their guns and cornered the Way brothers. Bob – because he was off socializing with the females – snuck up from behind and shot them. They were dead before they hit the ground. Lucky bastards. Bob had shot them each about ten to twenty times.
“Why didn’t you use your silencer, Gerard?” Mikey asked, very pissed off.
“Shut up.” Gerard responded. His bullets were too loud – people in the neighborhood could here – and he never put his silencer on. “Bob, storm their bedrooms. I know they have money.”
“Why didn’t you use your fucking silencer, Gerard!?” Mikey screamed louder.
“Why don’t you go door to door telling everybody my damn name!?” Gerard shouted back, even louder and more pissed off than usual.
“Hey, I found this. Twenty grand.” Bob threw the briefcase over for Gerard to catch it.
One girl – the chick who answered the door – came out of another room, screaming with an AK-47 in her hands.
“HEY!” Bob shouted before she had the chance to shoot at Gerard and Mikey. “Hey, Jen, DON’T SHOOT!”
“No! Those bastards killed Patrick!” The girl Bob referred to as Jen shouted.
“It’s okay. They won’t kill you, if you don’t kill them.” She seemed to calm down significantly. Even though, how could they kill her, if she already killed them?
“Okay… okay… I won’t kill them.” She said with the fake smile. That fake smile only meant one thing: revenge.
“Good. Come on, we should go before the cops come.” Bob said. Just like that, the boys were out of the door.
You like?
I hope this chapter was good enough for you.
I promise that I will update HONJ tomorrow. I promise I will.
Next chapter: Laboris
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