FicWad

Ch 6 Disclaimer- I write sins, not tragedi...I mean, not the truth.

A/N- I'm glad ya'll liked the POV thing. I'm gonna take one of your suggestions, not sure which one of you, and switch POV's between Gerard and Frankie. So, this chappie will be from the POV of Gerard mostly. Yay. It should be interesting, him being crazy and all. Oh, and I know a small town gun-store carrying heavy artillery is unlikely, but it works w/ the story. So deal. Enjoy...

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We drove for days. I know what you're thinking. Days? And not one city? Well, of course there were cities, but 1: We wanted a semi-large town. And 2: Most of the towns we passed seemed to be inhabited by cannibalistic inbreeds. Frank and I had a mutual agreement: No getting eaten. So, of course we didn't stop in those towns.

We had been switching off driving every time we stopped to piss or stretch our legs or eat. It was currently my turn, and I was trying hard not to burst into tears. My head was throbbing. This wasn't a headache. This was a headache on steroids, speed, cocaine, heroin, and any other drug you can imagine, all at once. I glanced at Frank, who was talking to me about something. I contemplated telling him that I was in no condition to drive, but I didn't want to worry him.

My health has always been somewhat of a problem. I was a bit over weight as a teenager, I was diagnosed with mild OCD (Which I refuse to believe is true. I don't care. I am NOT obsessive-compulsive.), I was depressed, suicidal, I used to be a druggie and an alcoholic, I have split-personality disorder that is so bad I've killed people, and lately, my health's been getting even worse, if possible. I've been vomiting blood a lot, but Frank's only seen me do it once. These headaches are honestly the most painful sensation I've ever experienced, besides getting stabbed of course.

But please, don't pity me. I hate pity. Though, if we ever get caught, no jury will ever think of pitying us. The one place we'll actually want and need pity. Nothing.

But, back on track, I really didn't want to worry Frank even more than he already was. The little dude love me so much, and what do I go and do? Turn him into one of the most wanted men in the country. We even have a special agent from the Federal Bureau of Freaking Investigation leading our case. Now that's an accomplishment. I mean, we're right up there with Al Capone. Sweet.

I glanced at Frank again, and he caught my gaze. He smiled at me. I tried to smile back, but my vision was starting to blur at the edges. I pulled over before I ended up killing ourselves.

"Gerard? You okay?" he asked, concerned. I nodded.

"Yeah. Do you think you could drive for awhile, though?"

He nodded slowly. He climbed over me while I slid under him to the passenger seat. It was an amazing maneuver, that was. Anyway, we both got into our positions, and got comfortable. I snuggled into the back of the seat, and closed my eyes. I've been sleeping a lot lately. After awhile, I slipped into a dreamless sleep.

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I was shaken awake by Frank, who was grinning with one hand on the wheel.

I slapped his hand away and grumbled, "That's it. You have to find a new boyfriend to wake up at the most annoying times possible."

"Gerard, look around you!" he exclaimed.

I did. I gasped aloud, looking around and finally turning to Frank. We were driving through a little town that was just civilized enough to have real stores but not enough to have a ton of people that would recognize us. It was really small, and it looked like one of those places you see in movies where everyone knows everyone. Kind of like Suburbia from "Edward Scissorhands".

"This is perfect, Frankie. Let's find the gun-store or sport's store or where ever the hell they sell guns around here."

He nodded and then said seriously, "We're gonna need a specialized store if your heart is really set on that Uzi."

I had to smile. He was so sweet. I really didn't know anything about guns, but yes. I did want to be able to brag about robbing a bank with a large gun from Russia. Though, besides Frank, I really didn't have anyone to brag to. Not even my parents. They kind of disowned me, claiming that it was my fault that Mikey was dead. Even though it was the truth, it didn't feel great to have such a large amount of hatred wafting of your own parents. Especially since they were blaming me with out knowledge of my problem.

But I smiled at him, and said, "Well, how are we going to do this? We're not going to have weapons until we actually rob the place. How are we going to actually get the people to hand us the guns and not call the police till we're out of there?"

He rubbed his chin, and I giggled. He was seriously thinking, though, so I didn't ask any questions. You'd be surprised. When Frank actually puts energy into it, he can really be smart.

Finally, his eyes literally lit up, and he looked at me, evil grin securely on his lips.

He leaned over and whispered his plan into my ear. Childish and pointless, whispering is, but he was really cheering me up.

He pulled away and looked at me eagerly.

"Well?" he asked.

A smile broke out on my face.

"Genius, Frankie. Pure genius."

He grinned at my compliments, and grabbed my famous over-sized Gucci sun-glasses. He slid them on his nose and stepped out of the car. He was least likely to get recognized, so he was the one to ask for directions.

As I watched from the parked car, he walked up to a burly man with a curly brown beard and asked him a question. The man listened to his explanation, and then smiled, nodding and pointing in the right direction. Frank thanked the man, and then rejoined me in the car.

"What did you say to him?" I asked curiously. I mean, how do you nonchalantly ask where a gun shop is?

Frank smiled and said, "I told him that we went hunting and our gun broke, and that my dad would kill me if I brought back a messed up gun since I borrowed it without his permission."

I rolled my eyes.

"Stop using the fact that you still look sixteen to your advantage. And seriously, that was a daring excuse. It might not have worked."

"But it did," he retorted, pulling away from the curb and driving to the gun store. It only took about five minutes, and Frank parked right in front of it. We needed a quick getaway.

We climbed out of the car, and I swallowed hard, looking at Frank quickly. He winked at me, and then, we walked into the store.

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NORMAL POV

The store was cluttered. There were shelves covering almost every square inch of the place, but there was a clear path straight to the register, which was in the back.

The two ex-rockers both stood at the door, surveying the room and seeing who would be the biggest threat and easiest prey.

Gerard looked at Frank, and said almost inaudibly, "Two older men perusing the shelves over there." He pointed to left at the two seniors browsing the hunting gun section. "One woman in the hand-gun section." He pointed to the right. "And one middle-aged man at the counter." He pointed straight back to the man working the cash register.

"Perfect," Frank smiled. "You know what to do?"

Gerard nodded nervously, and said, "I better. My job's the most important."

Frank nodded and said, "You ready?"

Gerard once again nodded, and made his way back to the register. Frank started over towards the woman. Gerard, at the counter, was making small chat with the clerk, asking questions.

"Do you sell Russian Uzis here?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible, hoping that his heart wouldn't beat right out of his chest. He could hear every beat clearly, and was pretty sure that the clerk, whose nametag read 'Tommy', could hear it, too.

Tommy looked him over suspiciously.

"We do," he said, narrowing his eyes. "But I wouldn't sell them to you."

Gerard blinked, nervousness gone. It was replaced with the feeling he got whenever he was on-stage, performing. Tonight would perhaps be his most important performance of all.

Frank was patiently waiting for the cue needed from Gerard in order to start his part of the plan. He was following the woman at a safe distance, cell phone in his hands.

She glanced back at him, and Frank smiled his biggest grin at her, and then went back to pretending to be looking at the shelves. She walked across the store, and of course, Frank followed.

Meanwhile, Gerard looked at the man and asked, "Can I at least see the gun?"

Tommy shook his head and smiled grimly.

"Sorry, kid, but I can't."

"But, why would you deny Russian Uzis to two of the most wanted men in the country?" Gerard asked loudly.

There was a rush of activity at this exclamation.

Frank, recognizing his cue, stepped up to the woman and jabbed his cell pone into her back.

"Stay calm, and you won't die," he growled into her ear. She froze, every muscle in her body stiffening.

Tommy took a step back, eyes widening in fear as he recognized Gerard from the news.

The two seniors all turned and looked at Gerard, about to take him down.

Gerard held up a hand and said, "Gentlemen, please. Do you really want that fair woman back there to die? Because my associate has a gun to her back."

Frank stepped out from behind the shelf, leading the frightened woman forward.

"Tell them. Tell them about the gun," Frank said in a low and menacing voice. He intentionally deepened his voice. Gerard smiled. Frankie was having some fun with this.

The woman stuttered, "Ye...yes. The...there is a...a gah...gun in ma...my back."

Frank snickered. It wasn't a gun. It was just a cell phone. A harmless cell phone.

Tommy immediately exclaimed in fear, "What do you want?"

"Two Russian Uzis, one hell of a lot of ammunition...," he turned to Frank. "Anything else?"

"Um...an AK-47! And a grenade!" Frank exclaimed like a child.

Gerard rolled his eyes.

"We don't need a grenade, dummy. I wouldn't date you if you weren't so cute. But yeah, an AK-47 is good."

One of the older men asked in disbelief, "We're being held up by gays?"

"Yeah. Got a problem?" Gerard said gruffly, putting on a menacing face. It worked, because the man held up both hands defensively and took a step back.

"Meant no offense by that, sir."

"Damn right," Gerard said, turning back to the counter and watching the man unlock the heavy artillery. Tommy shakily placed three guns on the counter, along with seven boxes of ammo.

"Two Russian Uzis, one AK-47, four boxes of bullets for the Uzis, and three boxes of bullets for the '47. Is that all?"

Gerard greedily grabbed the objects off the counter, and smiled at Tommy.

"Thank you. I promise, we won't ever return." Gerard gestured with his head, and the two men walked out of the store, leaving four very confused and frightened people.

Tommy stared after them, and then looked at the counter.

"They left a note," he said, confused. The other three gathered around him, and he unfolded the paper.

"Dear Victims of Our Terrible Crime," he read aloud. "We, as in Frank Iero and Gerard Way, ask for your forgiveness. We had no intention of harming any of you, in fact, the 'gun' was a cell phone. Guns and ammunition are an important part of the next phase of our plan, and while we have stolen profit from this store, we hope that the bill enclosed will cover it. Once again, please forgive us. Signed, Gerard Way and Frank Iero."

He looked up them with wide eyes.

"They left a hundred dollar bill."

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Gerard and Frank ran to the car, laughing manically.

"That was AWESOME!!!!!" Gerard screamed as soon as they roared away from the store. Frank laughed loudly.

"I don't know why I didn't want to do this before," he said.

"Neither do I. That was so cool."

"Hey, Gerard," Frank said.

"Yeah?"

"We're officially the new Bonnie and Clyde."

"Oh. HELL YEAH!!!!!!"

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A/N- Tell me what you thought! I really like this one. So, yeah. REVIEW!!!!!

Oh, and in the song 'The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You', is Gerard speaking Spanish? If so, what's he saying? If you know, please tell me and I'll give you Gerard flavored cookies. Trust me, they're delicious. Yummy.