
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2612729.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      My_Chemical_Romance, Falling_in_Reverse
  Relationship:
      Frank_Iero/Gerard_Way, Frank/Gerard
  Character:
      Frank_Iero, Gerard_Way, Mikey_Way, Ray_Toro, Bob_Bryar, Ryan_Seaman,
      Ronnie_Radke, Original_Characters, Bert_McCracken
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Gangsters, Alternate_Universe_-_Mob, Mental_Health
      Issues, Flashbacks, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, Sexual_Abuse,
      Violence
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-13 Completed: 2014-11-28 Chapters: 12/12 Words: 22506
****** Thank you for the venom ******
by runaway_killjoy
Summary
     Frank quits school young to try find work to pay for his mother's
     hospital bills. He finds that the best pay for his age is also the
     most dangerous. Five years later Frank is still in his gang but
     circumstance throws him in the way of the leader of the rival mob.
     Even through his mental issues regarding emotion, Frank finds himself
     faced with a young man he'd sooner die for than kill.
     Much darker and harsher than my other works.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** So give me all your poison *****
*FIVE YEARS AGO*
“Frank, it’s okay,” my mom coos, but it’s not. It’s not o fucking kay. “When I
die you can live with your aunt in,” her sentence is broken by a fit of
coughing and choking. She winces afterwards.
     “Mom…” I murmur. It’s not okay. The doctors said without the money we
can’t pay for treatment and without treatment she’ll die, painfully. I’m
fourteen years old so fuck this, I still need my mom. “I can get money mom.”
     She smiles at me. Our house is freezing cold. Electricity and heating
bills are not a priority when my mom is dying.
     Cancer can just go fuck itself with a sword.
     “Frank dear, I’m going to ask my sister to come live here, okay?” She
smiles meekly. Then comes another fit of coughing steals her remaining energy
and when it calms she immediately falls asleep.
 
Quitting school is surprisingly easy. You just don’t go. They sent out letters
addressed to my mom so I just burnt them at the back of our apartment block
with Ryan. He’s like seventeen and not in school either so while my mom thinks
I’m in class I go out with him and try earn money. Everything is harder when
you’re working class and have no references.
     We did small, low paying jobs for example, packing bags in Walmart.
Because we’re underage and begging for any money we get paid five dollars an
hour and get no staff discount. One day Ryan gets till work. When we meet
outside after an eight hour shift he shoves fifty dollars in my hand. “What?” I
gasp looking at the fifty dollar bill, crumpled from belonging to someone else.
     “They had loads and there were no cameras or anything, just take it you
fuck and help your mom,” he says and slinks off into the back alleys. We
normally walk home together but he had said he had shit to do so I guess I’ll
walk home in the increasing dark back to the cheapest part of New Jersey.
Growing up where I did morals weren’t top priority but fuck this still doesn’t
feel right. I shove the folded deeper into my old jeans and walk faster home.
     My mom is asleep when I get home. I sneak into the kitchen and fold my
days’ pay into the empty jar under the sink, including the fifty. Another fifty
and I’ll be able to pay for some treatment I think.
     I eat a slice of toast and go to sleep only to wake up and repeat the bag
packing and apply at McDonald’s for extra work because thirty five dollars is
bullshit.
    McDonald’s says no. I go back to Walmart and pack bags with Ryan at the
till again. “I didn’t get another job,” I say between customers, “fuck being
fourteen, can you get me some ID?”
     Ryan laughs from the register. “You’re too fucking short, bro. Even in
like five years people aren’t gonna be the age you are then.” His smirk fades
when he sees my face. “But look, I think I can find you something to do.”
     My eyebrows shoot up, “Yea?”
     “Tell ya later,” he says and greets the customer who’s just started
unloading her bags of cat food, litter and wine. It’s my neighbourhood cat
lady. I’m always nice to her, no one else is, but I am and she always tops me
ten dollars. It really helps me feel like I get paid.
     We take a cigarette break when the shop is very calm again out the back.
“So I was talking to my friend Ronnie yesterday, when you went home,” he speaks
between drags, “We quit school same time only he disappeared, dark shit. Some
of the lads say he winded up, others said drugs and gangs and shit. They were
all right,” he grins, “but he was the danger guy, dealing and shit, and the
cops new him so they pinned some murder falsely on him. He’s out now though and
he can get me and “a trusted helper” work. If you want.” His grin is wide.
     “What kind of work?”
     “Probably dealings at first but you know, shit can get rough with gangs,”
he leans close, “he’s part of Venom.”
     Venom was one of the biggest drug gangs around. But it wasn’t just drugs,
they do all sorts of dodgy shit. I scratch the back of my neck, “I don’t know…”
     “Pay for a day would be more than like a week here,” he says, putting out
his cigarette, “just an idea, I know you’d want the cash.”
     We walk back in to the shop and begin what is practically slave labour,
all over again. Yay for capitalism.
 
The way to wherever the fuck Ronnie is leading us in dark, dank and really
complicated. I know a lot of back roads and lanes but Jersey is full of them.
We take a few turns and suddenly we are so far from main road that I begin to
feel very uncomfortable. We turn up a dark lane which is closely bordered by
brick walls and the stink of overrun sewers. We’re walking faster now and
Ronnie has loosened a knife in his sleeve. This doesn’t make me feel more
comfortable. If Ryan is scared at all he doesn’t show it.
     “Hey Ronnie,” a girl’s voice calls. I look up and standing on a balcony in
lingerie and long silky shawls, three girls are smoking. I can’t tell which
spoke but they’re smiling down at us. “Special reduced price if you want six in
a room,” one with massive red lips smirks down, “We don’t mind if the kid
doesn’t.” I feel my throat tighten. I’m fourteen but I’m short so I don’t hold
the mistake against them.
     Ronnie makes a horrified face and then forces on a grin, “Some other time
Chandra,” he stiffens as a man appears on the other side of the road.
     “Your loss!” the Chandra girl calls and all the girls turn away just as we
walk beneath their balcony. What I think is a cigarette but lands next to me.
On closer inspection it seems to be something a little less legal then tobacco.
Smoothly Ronnie waves us behind him as the shadowed figure approaches.
     “S’up Ronnie,” the dark guy says, he peers up at us through his hood. His
eyes are wide but he seems stable enough to not beat the shit out of two guys
and a “kid”. My eye is drawn to his arm where I see him relaxing something back
into his sleeve. I decide I should get a knife.
     “Hi Howard, hoe’s it hanging?” Ronnie says, visibly relaxing.
     “Pretty good, got paid today,” he grins and gestures up to the balcony
with his eyes. Ronnie grins and wishes him well.
     When we reach the end of this substantially long lane we turn onto
another. Disorientated, I feel like we’re heading back towards the main road,
near the library. “Farthest away from the road I’ve been in a while,” Ryan
murmurs and Ronnie laughs, adding to my sense of being completely lost.
     We turn up one more lane and then Ronnie stops opposite a blank wall. “One
second,” he says and sends something on his phone. A light appears in an
upstairs window. A guy sticks his head out the window, cigarette in mouth. He
looks at us and then drops the fire escape ladder that lands loudly a few
inches from Ronnie’s feet. “Up we go,” he hums and begins the creaky ascent. I
follow him and Ryan brings up the rear. Sliding in through the window after the
older guy I’m hit by a thick stench of smoke, sweat and some other substance,
probably an alcohol I don’t know.
     The room is cramped and there is only two adjoining rooms and a door to
what I assume is the hall. The whole span is lit by a dim, flickering, naked
bulb in the middle. The floor is covered more in dirt than the fuzzy grey
carpet. There’s a couch inhabited by two guys smoking and lying deep into their
seats. They’re higher than I’ve ever seen anyone and that’s terrifying. There’s
a coffee table covered in ashes and bottles. One bottle is full of ashes
floating in what looks like piss. There’s a kitchen if you could call it that,
that’s where three more guys are perched at the boarded up window. There’s a
box full of packets of a white powder at their feet. Cocaine probably. On the
counter there’s a lot of tubs and bowls that have the white powder encrusted on
it. At the foot of the counter there are boxes of washing powder and talcum
powder.
     I feel very wrong here but try my best not to show it. “These the one’s
you got?” A guy says walking forward from the window, “A kid?”
     “He’s old as I was, just short,” Ronnie says looking across at me. Ronnie
was fifteen nearly sixteen, according to Ryan, but I’m hardly going to confess
my age. The guy looks me in the eye and I stare back. I don’t what he’s trying
to find, fear? Youth? Worry? Distrust? I stare back coolly and then raise a
testy eyebrow.
     “Well you brought him here so fuck it. You need money is it kid?” The guy
asks, blatantly scratching his balls. I nod. “We’ll ask the boss when he comes
out what a guy like you can do.” He turns to Ryan, “friend o’ yours is it,
Ronnie?”
     Ronnie nods and takes a seat between the two high guys. One of them greets
Ronnie in a vague, slurred manner. “Hey Jay,” Ronnie says and the guy smiles.
“Where’s the boss anyway?”
     The guy still standing in front of Ryan and I nods to a door leading off
to one of the only two other rooms. The handle wriggles a tad before the door
is pushed open to reveal a round, balding man in his mid-thirties dressed in
only a towel. Steam enters the big room, mingling with smoke and adding to the
breathing difficulty. I urge myself not to cough.
     “Who are these,” the man says, words echoing through his stomach in a
weird ripple.
     “Hey boss,” Ronnie waves from the couch, “this is Ryan and the short one
is Frank. You said you needed two more, I’ve found you two more.”
     “What age is the small one even,” the “boss” says, staring at me and
rubbing his stomach, and then his belly button. Shivers shake through my whole
body but I try not to show it. I just stand as casually as I can pull off.
     “The same age I was, only he’ll have me to keep him on track,” he raises
his eyebrows teasingly at the guy who has now retreated to the window sill.
“Unlike my advisers.”
     “No he won’t,” the boss says abruptly, “he’s to… young looking… he can
stay and mix with me while you can take the other one out for other duties.
Bring ‘em back here tomorrow at two. No one works tonight, it’s a break night,
it’s salsa night.” He grins and throws a tomato that was just on the table at
the wall and it smashes to bits. “Yea bring them back and-” gunshots and
screaming go off in the distance. The boss leans slightly toward the entry
window and grins. “What was I saying? Oh just bring ‘em back and we’ll get them
to work.”
 
Ronnie tells me that the pay here is better than at any shop. “Unless it’s some
bullshit designer bitch store where you can’t come in unless half your weight
is made up of jewellery.”
     When I get home that night my mom is asleep on the couch with the tv still
on. I gently wake her and help her to her bed.
     “Work” starts as soon as we get there. Ronnie shows Ryan where to put
their little white packets and then they’re gone. All the other guys who were
around in the room yesterday have left. When Ronnie and Ryan leave it’s only me
and the boss. “You can call me CJ or Boss.”
     We stand over in the kitchen area over a giant mixing bowl. The boss makes
us both wear masks so we don’t get extremely high off the raw stuff by just
breathing around it. That must be why those men were all sitting by the boarded
window. He makes me strip down to my vest. In the cold November weather it
really pisses me off and there is no heat in the room. “Why can’t I leave my
jumper on, like you?” I ask looking at the fully clothed man.
     “Because I’m the boss,” he says slyly. If you could feel sounds his sound
would feel like the sludge the plumber took out of the sink back home a few
years ago.
     As we work, me measuring precise amounts of the various white powders used
to thicken out the coke, the boss stirring, I feel him move closer to me.
Discomfort drives my instinct to punch him in the face wild.
     I move my hand to reach a tub of chalk when he stops me by placing his
hand on mine. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my neck and his body
against mine. Oh god I can feel him through his pants. I think I’m going to
throw up.
     “I believe we shouldn’t pick and choose our laws,” he says, his voice
muffled through the mask, as pressing in to me. “I break one so it would be
hypocritical of me to call another one right and true. I have enough blood on
my hands to not prosecute murder and violence, so why would I believe another
law about something kind of the same.” He presses against me more and I feel
myself shake. My stomach hurts from where the counter top edge digs into it.
“You work for me, you work for all of me,” he mumbles and slides his hand away
from my hand down to my crotch. “You’ll learn to get up for me. I’ll pay you
more than the others. Much more. Only you can’t tell them because they’ll get
jealous.”
     With a swift unanticipated motion he pulls my trousers down and rubs
against my grey fading underpants. My mind is racing. I need the money. I need
the money but I don’t need this. I’m not a whore. The boss moans short and
grabs me by my top, dragging me toward the door that wasn’t opened yesterday,
tossing our masks aside.
***** What's life like bleeding on the floor *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Sing to me.”
     “I can’t,” I whimper, his fingers digging into my throat, yanking my head
downward.
     “I said sing!” I begin to choke as he pulls my head lower down onto him. I
try sing, choking. I can’t breathe at all now, it’s all going dark. My signing
turns to a scream.
     I fly upwards, still screaming, rubbing my throat as the wondrous
sensation of freely breathing overcoming me. It’s all over now.
    It’s been five years since my mother died. It’s all over nowI’d thought
when her coffin was lowered. I had struggled for two months, paying for food
for me once I checked her into the hospital. She died pain free so I didn’t
mind going hungry. Asking anyone now maybe it was not eating at all for two
months and taking up heavy smoking is what stunted my growth so much that now
at nineteen I’m only three inches taller than I was age twelve. I, however,
believe it probably had something to do with the exposure to raw drugs. I
didn’t take any at all until I was seventeen but the mixing and living around
them probably stopped me from becoming a normal sized man.
     I didn’t go to live with my aunt when my mom died. She never came for me,
I never reached out to her. She came to the funeral and left the next day,
disgusted with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol that floated around my
fourteen year old self.
     It’s all over now.It’s hard to organise a funeral for a man that made his
living by not being known. In all the time I worked for him, the boss only
seemed to leave his apartment three times, on the third time he was shot.
     I pull myself out of bed. Ryan is already awake. Or maybe he didn’t sleep
here. His duvet on the bed a foot from mine, is tossed around and his shoes are
missing. Affording to keep my mom in hospital was difficult enough but when she
died the little government support we got went and a fourteen year old can’t
live alone anyway. Ryan and I moved in with Ronnie and we all still live
together though as was the nature of my old job I often didn’t get to sleep
here. And when I did it was incredibly difficult to actually sleep.
     Ronnie is in the kitchen/living room eating a bowl of cereal. I pour
myself one. “Don’t forget to wear black,” he jokes dryly. As if I wore colour
anywhere anyway.
     Ryan appears from the bathroom, fully dressed but with damp hair. “Is this
safe?” he asks nervously.
     “The MG are murdering assholes but I doubt they’ll attack when we’re at a
funeral,” Ronnie replies with a mouth full of cereal, “they might send someone
around to get a good look though. See who is in the gang.”
     Ryan makes a face, “Fuck that. What if they just take a look to kill us
later?” It no longer strikes me as weird how we talk about murder so casually.
In fact nothing illegal really seems illegal anymore.I believe we shouldn’t
pick and choose our laws.
     “We can’t have no one put him in the fucking ground,” Ronnie says throwing
his bowl in the sink. “Someone needs to make sure that the fucking asshole is
never seen again.”
     “Do I have to go?” I murmur. Ryan and Ronnie throw me empathic looks. I
hate the boss. I hate him for what he’s done to me and how he threatened to rid
the world of Ronnie and Ryan if I didn’t comply.
     “If the others see you’re not there it could go much worse,” Ryan says
awkwardly.
     Ronnie nods. “True,” I concede. My pay has really dropped now that we’re
under Jed. Venom has grown to the biggest gang in Jersey and we went from
employing ten when I started to employing twenty. My rank was high from the
begging, Ryan’s status grew as more new people came in below him.
     I’d say I’m around sixth most important after Ronnie. Ryan is about eighth
but he doesn’t seem to mind me being above him. No one really rues me my
position. No one begrudges my immediate rise. No one has anything to say
against my importance because no one would have taken my place as the boss’s
concubine. That part of my work is so degrading that no matter how much I was
paid the damage that was done couldn’t be fixed.
     I don’t think I even have a sexuality anymore.
     We arrive at the cemetery outside of town to see the coffin be lowered. No
one cried. In truth if you cried you didn’t know the boss and you’d probably
get the shit beaten out of you. I got a flu once and feinted because I was so
weak and tired. When I woke up, still lying in the middle of the floor my
cigarettes were gone and my nose was badly bleeding from where someone kicked
me in the face and wrote Babyon my forehead in my own blood. I feinted again on
the way to the bathroom from lack of blood. Ryan helped me up, cleaned me off
and put plasters where necessary. I was only fifteen and later found out the
guy who wrote on my face, in my blood, was twenty eight at the time, a total
asshole who got shot a few weeks later by MG.
     No one says anything. We all just go home to our separate homes, taking
unusual routes so we’re not followed. None of us talk in Ronnie’s car. In fact
we just all smoke. When we pull up behind the apartment block Ronnie speaks, “I
don’t know what I think of Stan as new leader.”
     “What do you mean?” Ryan says undoing his seatbelt. I know what he means,
he means Stan has anger issues and can be very irrational. Also Stan is very
okay with murder and that’s why no one wants to tell him no.
     “He’s fucking crazy,” Ronnie sighs and kills the engine.
     “He is, isn’t he? At least he doesn’t hate us and leaves us with the same
jobs,” Ryan says getting out of the car.
     I follow them out, “I don’t thinks he wants me to keep my position.”
     “Did he say something to you?” Ronnie asks, surprise filling his voice.
     “No but y’know he always wanted to do that, he’s hardly going to do street
work.”
     “Yea but he could do customer service,” Ronnie grins. Customer service
means dealing with people who owe money, people who want to borrow money, and
working with the very powerful people. A lot of celebrities’ have us as
suppliers of their drugs, including some of my favourite local bands. Of course
I never get to see them. I never see anyone really, I’m always fucking hidden
away mixing shit. When the boss was alive he rarely let me out of the mixing
house and never let me leave. No one at all outside Venom knows who I am. That
thought just feels weird. As far as the government is concerned my mother’s
death should have put me somewhere but I left the charts. I have no
educational, medical or tax history. I’m just a living ghost really.
     Back in the flat we have nothing to do. “What do we even do… like in the
afternoon?”
     “Drink?”
     “Drink.”
     “Drink.”
     I still can’t get served. I have an ID and I’m covered in tattoos. All I
get is “nice try, get a real ID when you’re the right age.”
     Ronnie pulls out all the vodka, illegal spirits and beer we store in the
food cupboards.
 
“So I keep mixing?” I say when I turn up the next day at three pm.
    “Well yea, who else will do it?” Stan says like it’s the most ridiculous
thing he’s ever heard. “I need to go take car of one of the boss- ex-boss’s
debts,” he shoves a hand gun in his pants and a knife in his sleeve pocket. He
leaves, now only me, cocaine, heroin and various pills are left. It would be
very easy to be a druggie like a lot of the guys here, only I see what it can
do to you. I see all the people who we have to “take care of” because they go
insane from trying to get their next fix. One guy killed his wife to get her
life assurance and buy more heroin. It’s so fucked up, he got arrested and then
died in jail. Another guy overdosed right in front of me. He was on the couch
that first night. When I was sixteen I saw him take twice as much pills as we
would deem “so fucking stupidly dangerous” and minutes later he was lying dead
in a his own puke in the bathroom. After that most of the guys really calmed it
on the pill popping.
     I stand at the kitchen counter and measure out the brand new cocaine.
There’s still a board on the windows but there’s a crack just big enough that I
can still see the world. I look out it for a while. Suddenly I see him in the
reflection of the window, standing behind me. “Come Frank,” he smiles and then
he’s shoving me against the wall and holding me in place as I scream. It goes
completely black before I slap my head off the floor next to the counter. He’s
not there. Of course he’s not there, he’s dead.
Chapter End Notes
     All the chapter titles are lyrics in the song I named the fic after,
     by the way.
     Thank you for reading, i think i might keep writing this because i
     have the story planned out completely and i'm excited to write it :)
***** Keep a gun on the book you gave me *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Stan keeps an insane weapon control. I think it could be some form of paranoia
because he insists you leave your weapons in plain view when you’re around him.
One time Jay forgot about one, a small not even very sharp knife in his belt
and Stan refused to pay him for a week and constantly muttered about trust. If
they weren’t pretty good friends I’m sure he would have beat him up or got
someone else to, only Jay was the one that usually bet people up for Stan.
     I never had a weapon anyway, what would the mixing guy need with anything
more than a knife really. This hit Ryan and Ronnie hard though. Their line of
work, which was dealing normally but is now dealing to dealers, requires
persuasion. They get threatened more than anyone really so having a revolver
and being able to use it is always helpful. They’ve never killed anyone I don’t
think.
     I’m just finished packaging the cocaine now and I think I’ll check over
the stocks of pills. So many are just anti-depressants and other prescription
drugs people can’t get. I don’t know how we get them but it seems to be our
biggest profit. I think we stole them but I don’t know. I watch the money for
us but I’m still kept in the dark about where the money comes from. When I’m
finished mixing and packaging I sit on the couch and open the big money book.
    They make me look over the fucking “ledgers” which is just ruled pages
where I write in sales.
     The door bursts open and Ryan and Ronnie come in with Jay carried between
them. His trouser leg has been ripped away and a bullet wound goes right
through his calf. His blood is trickling down his leg. “Fuck,” I gasp jumping
up. “What happened?!” There’s also a patch of blood on his shoulder and a dark
circle. He’s been shot twice, I think he’s passed out.
     “Some fucking addict shot him with a fucking double barrel rifle. Who has
a rifle in suburbia?!” Ronnie grunts and between them, he and Ryan lower Jay
onto the floor.
     “Put him on the couch!” I say running to find bandages or something to
stop the bleeding.
     “And have him stain it in blood?! Anyway his wounds would hurt too badly,
they’d be rubbing off everything.”
     “Where were you when this happened?” I groan getting water for the wound.
I think cleaning it might but what do I know. Where the fuck is Chubs, he deals
with this shit.
    “We were meeting with a college kid when he called us. Stan confiscated his
big gun, with two bullets in him he manages to kill the fucker with a knife.
Then he lay bleeding in the guy’s hall until we got there! He passed out in the
car. Where is chubs?!”
     “I don’t know,” I say unsure what to do, we all crouch around Jay as his
uneven breathing makes us all more and more worried.
     Chubs arrives about half an hour later after running all the way from New
York. He is so out of breath by the time he gets here. He removes the bullets
from Jay, cursing as blood squirts out of his leg. He cleans the wounds, wraps
them up and when Jay wakes for a minute he feeds him a pill, one of the
prescription painkillers we have.
     Chubs is no doctor but he’s good enough. He learned how to stop the rest
of us from dying. None of us can afford medical bills and worse; a medical
history. We just try our hardest to not exist as far as anyone else can know.
Adopting a nickname is a good way to do this, I think only the old boss knew
Chubs’ real name.
     “Will he be okay?” Ryan asks, stretching his legs.
     “I think so. If those wounds don’t get fucking infected. They’ve been
exposed for so fucking long. Hours like.”
     “There was nothing we could do!” Ryan groans defensively. They could have
took him to the doctors. I laugh at my own joke. “We have to get rid of the
fucking car now, people might have seen it drive away from the house where
there is now a dead guy.”
     “We’ll burn it out in New York somewhere,” Ronnie sighs. It was his car,
one of the few things he owns. The only thing he got legally.
 
Stan is insanely angry with Jay. As soon as he gained consciousness, Stan went
on a characteristic rage. This seems to be an attribute of leaders; they can
get very pissed off.
     And very aggressive. When Jay protests saying, “But you done take my
fucking gun, what was I s’posed to do. My job that you fucking gave me was to
get the money an’ I did,” Stan punched him, causing his nose to bleed but not
breaking the big tough bone.
     Jay got very angry at this but did nothing. What could he do? He just sat
and brewed over the wrongs he’s been done. The rest of us just stood around
awkwardly.
     “Come Frank,” Stan gestures me over. Shivers run through me and it takes
all my strength to see. Black at the edge of my vision threatens to take over
as the Boss’ voice rings through my head, muttering the same words. I stumble
toward him. Suddenly Ryan’s at my elbow, walking me steadily over murmuring
“It’s Stan, it’s okay,” over and over.
     I push the black from my vision but I can feel my eyes watering with
effort.
     “Pay everyone as due. Dock Jay the price of the pills he’s taking for his
fucking injuries,” Stan says, pretending not to notice my shaking.
     “Yea sure,” I croak.
     “When you’re paid get the fuck out unless you’re sleeping here,” Stan
declares and walks into his bedroom. That horrible, horrible room. Why did he
even decide he’d continue to live here? I can’t imagine anyone voluntarily
sleeping in that disgusting place. Every time the door opens and I see inside
it makes me want to puke up my guts.
     When he’s gone I begin paying everyone. I leave Jay, Ronnie, Ryan, and
myself till the end. Ronnie is going to burn the car out somewhere and I coming
with him to buy a new one. “Here,” I say to Jay putting the money in his hand.
Howard who is sleeping here turns away, “This is your normal pay, I’ll fix the
books so Stan never notices. He probably wouldn’t anyway. It’s not your fault
you were fucking shot.”
     “Thanks,” he smiles. He’s not exactly smart, Jay, and no one can say any
of us are “good people”, but Jay is loyal and I’m hoping to build up his
loyalties to me rather than Stan.
 
Ronnie and I take the subway to the outskirts of New York. We left his car in
flames under the growing dark skies at the back of a poor neighbourhood. It’s
not an uncommon sight here and no one will suspect that it was involved in a
murder in Jersey.
     “Where are we going?” I ask Ronnie as we climb the stairs to ground level.
     “A second hand dealers. I know the guy’s cousin.” A good enough
explanation. I know Ronnie didn’t take me for the company, I have access to the
accounts and funds and shit. I can give Ronnie a thousand bucks toward the new
car and make it look like I never did.
     We walk for a while until we are in an area that isn’t quite the city or
the suburbs. “Bryar’s Buys” is written in big, red metal words above the drive.
     We walk past the rows of old cars to get to the building. Inside we find a
guy, about four years older than me, covered in oil at the front of a car. “One
sec,” he grumbles at us and ducks under the hood. I hear a cracking sound, a
sizzle and a “Fuuuuuuck”.
     After a four or five minutes the guy stands up straight again. He wipes
his hands on a rag and then walks over to us. “Looking for a car?”
     “Yea. My friend Devlin recommended you,” Ronnie says smoothly.
     “Like my cousin?” the guy says rewiping his hands, this time on his pants.
     “Yea,” Ronnie smiles cool.
     “Bob Bryar,” the guy extends his hand, “What kind of car d’you want.”
     “Ronnie Oaken,” Ronnie says, never using his real name, “nothing older
than five years, not a mini, diesel too. Oh and under two grand”
     Bob looks thoughtful. “I have four you might want to have a look at. This
way.”
     We follow him to the back of the yard. “This one,” he says gesturing to a
black Honda. He and Ronnie talk specs and price. I stare off into the distance.
When they’ve agreed a special price for “friends of Dev’s” Ronnie decided to
take a test drive, leaving me to awkwardly converse with the car salesman.
     By the time Ronnie pulls in, grinning widely, me and Bob are grinning over
a common interests: Iron Maiden and the Misfits. “I’ll take it” Ronnie says
without getting out of the car.
     “Don’t you even want to see the other cars?” Bob asks, eyebrows raised.
     Ronnie shakes his head, grinning, “Get in Frank, here you go Bob,” he
passes out a wad of cash.
     “Do you want a receipt?” Bob says bewildered. “Nope, I’m good.” I sit into
the passenger seat and as I say goodbye, Ronnie drives us away.
 
“It was fucking new!” Ronnie rages. Stan stands back quietly. He can be angry
but intercepting Ronnie in his rage would be suicidle. “Fucking new! To me at
least! Cost me two grand! How did you not know! You must have fucking known!”
he kicks an empty box against the opposite wall. “Bullshit Stan. Get your
fucking shit together!”
     “It’s not my fault Ronnie,” Stan says defiant and quiet.
     “Yes it fucking is! If you can’t get your shit together enough to
knowwho’s being recognized, what the fuck makes you good enough to lead us?!”
Everyone in the room takes a sharp intake of breath. Dangerous ground, Ronnie.
     “Calm the fuck down, Ronnie, they’ve let us all know they know who we are,
what makes you the fucking master of disguise that they wouldn’t know you too?
You could have guessed,” Stan says trying to gain volume and stance against
Ronnie’s blind anger.
     “Shut the fuck up Stan. You better pay for the fucking wheels.”
     “I’ll pay Ronnie if you’d just calm down. We’ve all been singled out.”
     “Not like this!”
     “Howard and Lee got a rock through their window. Gavin’s girl got
ambushed! And what about my fucking apartment!”
     Ronnie falls silent. He’d forgotten about Gavin’s fiancé Chantel who got
attacked outside a night club and had the words Hi Venom we know this one too
–MGcut into her arm. The same was written on the note that accompanied the rock
that went through the window. The same was scraped into the side of Ronnie’s
new car when it was parked outside target. The tyres were slashed and the
windows broken. We only just got it yesterday. We all know though, that Stan is
the most afraid. He got his apartment set on fire. That’s the main reason he
lives here now.
     “Fucking bullshit. They know all of us and we know what, three of them?!”
Ronnie spits.
     “Maybe there’s only three,” Jay says.
     Ronnie rolls his eyes. “There must be more than three. They’re the second
biggest gang around,” he smirks, “other than us.”
Chapter End Notes
     *the rest of the band coming soon*
     Thank you for reading and I think the next chapter will be up
     tomorrow :3
***** Fire at will *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
I thought the nightmares were getting better. Well more hoped. All the hope in
me left when I woke up soaking wet to see Ronnie holding an empty glass that
obviously just had water in it and Ryan kneeling on my bed, his hands on my
shoulders where he had just been shaking me. Apparently they were unable to
wake me. I was screaming and thrashing.
     When I calm down Ronnie stumbles back to his room. “This isn’t okay. It’s
been going on way too long.” Ryan asks, rubbing his eyes.
     “Since I was fourteen?” I say. Yea okay that is a fucking long time.
“Fucking nightmares.”
     “Frank… I can see… that it’s not only night…” he sits on his bed facing
me, “I know it’s more than nightmares.”
     I shiver. “Yea.”
     “Well if you ever want to talk or…”
     “No it’s okay. Let’s go back to sleep now anyway,” I say. I don’t want to
talk, what even is there to say.
      When I fall back asleep the terrors continue. Sleep used to be my escape.
Sometimes when I slept I’d face the terrors but sometimes I’d dream of nothing.
Nothing nights were the best, like days of peace during my own war. In the day
time I’d have to face the terrors that now haunt my sleep.
 
We all have texts the next morning from Stan. I have pasta ready for one.If
you’re not in the gang this text probably looks fucking weird but pastameans
plan. Just a code word in case people hack our phones. We all get to the flat
at different times but all before one.
     “Okay,” Stan says addressing the room crowded with the first three layers
to the gang. The main fifteen people. The ones that have broken some sort of
barrier to get into “the circle of trust” either by sticking around a while or
by proving themselves someway. “So I was thinking about Ronnie’s car.”
     I see Ronnie stand up straight. He’s still waiting for the tyre money.
     “And I realise that they know all of us. Every one of us except one. One
who thinks he’s fucking vital to the gang but obviously not fucking vital
enough that he’s been noticed,” murmurs surround me. People playing a form of
guess who. I know who he’s talking about though. “So I think we should send
this vital person on a vital task to get into their gang.”
     “Stop saying fucking vital Stan,” I growl. I don’t think I’m fucking
“Vital”, Stan just wants to make me out as a cocky asshole. “I get you learned
a new word today, well done,” I clap sarcastically, “But here’s another new
one: Shutthefuckup”.
     “Watch your mouth Iero or I won’t give you this vitaltask,” Stan says,
narrowing his eyes. I only realise now that everyone is looking at me.
     “So… how do we get Frank into their ranks… at all?” Someone says.
     “The baker,” smiles Stan.
     I’m pretty sure everyone raises eyebrows. Stan grins, he loves having
knowledge the rest of us don’t. He feels fucking high and mighty like a fucking
king not some white trash leader of a drug gang. “I might have stumbled in on a
local baker’s meth lab.” Bursts of laughter bubble to the surface from
everyone.
     “What the fuck,” someone laughs, “Come on how really?”
     “I’m serious. I found s fucking meth making baker who deals to MG. I
promised I’d keep that secret but he owes me a favour. I’ll get him to get
Frank a placement. He only knows me as David Fyrne so MG will not know he’s to
do with us,” Stan looks smug and his grin eyes turn poisonous when they meet
mine. Fuck him, he can’t now just send me off into another gang.
     “But where will I live?” I ask.
     “With MG. You’ll find out where they’re based. You’ll find out also who is
in the gang. You can text me pictures. And most importantly you can find out
who is the leader.”
     “And kill him,” Jay says. His wounds have kept him from leaving the flat.
He just gets more aggressive and restless with each passing hour.
     “Yes.” Stan’s reply shocks most of us.
     “You want me to kill this dude?” I say, shocked.
     “Yep. Come with me, we’ll go to the bakers now,” Stan says and leads me
toward the door. Everyone holds back their shock. “Oh and if any of you see
Frank with others, don’t acknowledge him.”
     Stan opens the door and walks into the hall. Ryan grabs my wrist and leans
to my ear, “meet me in target Thursday at five if you can. Good luck,” he
shoves me into the hall after Stan.
 
The bakery is down the road and around a block. We walk in and there’s three
other customers there. The baker, a guy with crazy-ass hair tied back into a
knot, sees Stan and his expression becomes a stiff polite one. When the
customers leave the guy nervously fumbles with his apron. “Hi David,” he says.
     “You still interested in doing me that one favour, Ray?” Stan says in a
weird, southern almost, accent.
     “Yes, sure,” he smiles.
     “This is my nephew Frank. Well, he’s been having a tough time. All these
tattoos and no one’s employing him,” he pokes the scorpion on my neck hard, “so
I was wondering if you could get him in with your boys? He’s a good worker, not
afraid to do the tough stuff either. I’m a bit like a marshmallow but he’s
built for this kinda thing. Never been a soft boy.”
     I don’t know how to take this description. Neither, it seems, does the Ray
guy. He scratches his arm. “Well, I don’t know…”
     Stan goes serious. “It’s not much to ask. They don’t even have to pay him.
Just keep him off the streets at night, a place to sleep like. And some to eat.
There’s only so much I can do for the boy,” Stan’s smile returns. This accent
is really beginning to disturb me.
     Ray gives an empathic smile, “Okay, they owe me this much. Frank,” he
turns to me with a smile, “You can come on back, into my house, take a shower
or something until Guy gets here. Would you like some bread? Cake? Pie?”
     “No I’m good,” my voice takes him aback a little.
     “How old are you?” Ray asks, handing a pie to “David”.
     “Nineteen.”
     “Oh good. That’s okay. I thought you were younger.”
     “Everyone does.”
     “Alright,” Stan butts in. “I really must be on my way. Thanks for pie and
placement, you’re a good guy.”
     “I do my best,” Ray smiles, bushing. “See you around!”
     Stan leaves casting me a warning look. I follow Ray into the back where
the ovens are. He sends me up the stairs and straight through to his landing. I
had a shower this morning but whatever it was something to do.
 
Guy came as the bakery was closing. Ray went into the back to get a “special
delivery of jam buns” and called me down. He gestured Guy into the kitchens
with me. Ray explained my presence. Guy frowns. He’s not very tough looking. In
fact he looks quite cool and smart for a guy here to collect a batch of meth.
“You won’t even have to pay him, just food and a roof over his head.”
     Guy’s forehead creases as if in deep thought. “Is there somewhere I could
make a private call?” he asks after Ray has made a convincing speech
considering he doesn’t actually know me.
     “Up there.” I wait around in the kitchens while Ray goes out to close up
shop and Guy makes the phone call.
     “Frank is it?” Guy says rounding the corner back into the kitchen. “Help
me carry these boxes. Welcome to MG. You better fucking watch yourself boy
now.”
     We scoop up the boxes and make our way out the front door and into the
car. Ray waves us off, grinning with relief.
     The MG headquarters is surprisingly close to my own apartment. A few
blocks away. It will be easy enough to get to the target. We get out of the car
parked in an alley and begin to walk deep into the shadows. After a while we
come to a door. Guy unlocks it and we climb the stairs to the fifth and top
floor. “We own the top three stories,” he says proudly knocking in a pattern on
the door.
     It opens soon after and I follow guy into a large kitchen/sitting room.
The only two, small, windows look out onto another building though from here
it’s only brick. In the kitchen area a guy with dyed black hair and fading
jeans is standing over a bowl of instant noodles at the counter. In the living
room part two guys sit watching a game and in the window sill overlooking
nothing a tough as fuck looking girl sits on her phone. She looks like she’ll
beat the shit out of you very easily.
     “This the kid?” Noodles guy says.
     “Yep,” Guy sets the baked goods box down on the kitchen table. I do the
same.
     “Ever do illegal shit before… Frank?” the guy says and then slurps his
noodles. “We won’t judge.”
     “I ran a supply of cigarettes and drink to kids when I was in school,” I
say. A lie but a likely one. Saying I mixed cocaine and shot at addicts for
five years would sound bad.
     “That mustn’t have been easy, looking as young as you do,” the guy says
taking another slurp and raising a single brow.
     I naturally raise my defences, “yea it fucking wasn’t but it was money.”
     “Good money too. But we pay better,” the guy smiles and finishes his
noodles. Only now do I notice the photos and the words on the wall over the
couch. All of them are photos of my friends and colleagues. There’s a photo of
Ronnie’s car under Ronnie and beside that a photo of his old one. I try not to
stare at it but its mesmerising. So many fucking faces I know. Most of them
looking sort of drunk. Then I see the one of Chantel’s arm. And her face.
     I shake myself slightly and look back at the guy with the growing out
brown roots and dirty Iron Maiden hoodie. He’s measuring me with his eyes.
Trying to figure out who I am. “Have you got any stuff? Like at all?”
     “No, I was on the fucking street before this,” I say realising I actually
have no clothes or weapons.
     “Starting from the bottom,” the guy grins and puts his bowl in the sink he
walks over to me and extends a hand, “I’m Gerard. Welcome to my gang.”
Chapter End Notes
     Whoop and so the story really begins :3 Thank you for reading and i
     promise I'll update soon.
     ALSO just one thing if you like the band of Mice & Men: that thing
     about Austin drugging and raping that girl is ridiculous. People are
     so quick to see people in a bad light that it only takes one fucking
     Instagram comment to make everyone lose their shit. I don't want to
     pretend i know him but that is 10000000% not an Austin thing, just
     somebody looking ruin someones life. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh. Sorry, rant
     over bye :)
***** You're running after something you'll never kill *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The last person leaves. It strikes me as weird the way I’ve only worked here
two days and they trust me enough to leave me alone in Gerard’s own apartment.
Gerard is the leader of MG, I found out the same day I arrived. He shares this
apartment with his brother. For some reason when I said I had nowhere to stay,
Gerard immediately said I could live here with him, that Mikey mainly sleeps in
other places and . This all strikes me as fucking weird but only really in
terms of Venom. I never really lived outside that small society and I guess
they could be completely fucked up. You can’t really choose which fucked up
things are okay. We shouldn’t pick and choose our laws.
    I sit on the couch and kick my legs. What else could I do really? I have no
idea when any of them are back. Not for a while anyway it’s a fucking Friday
nightI think to myself. I could go snooping around. I could have a look in
their ledgers, I understand that shit. At least I do the way I write them out.
I could look at their stocks. I could send photos to Stan. I’ve only sent one
so far; a picture of the wall covered in pictures. I realised as I took the
photo that there was five blurry pictures: all of me. They think that I am five
different people they can’t properly identify me because I’m always turning a
corner with Ronnie or Ryan or in one horrible case at the boss’s funeral,
blurred to look like there is two of me, one taller than I could dream to be.
This freaks me out. They knew I existed but they didn’t know my face, ever.
They also they don’t know that I’m one guy, one short guy.
     Stan replied Interestingand then I deleted the conversation.
     I went to target Thursday at five. Unfortunately I had to go with a girl
called Shanty. As far as I know there are two girls in MG. There could be more
because every fucking day I meet someone new. It seems like this gang
outnumbers mine about three to two. In target I met Ryan in the dairy as Shanty
picked up fruit and veg. He asked me how it was going and how I’m holding up. I
told him I’m fine, it’s fine. He asked about the dreams and daylight terrors
and I said I had to go.
     I lie lengthways on the couch. And reach for the remote. Somehow I fall
off the edge. It feels like someone’s pressing down on me and I can hear
something, panting maybe. I panic and try to pull myself back up onto the
couch. My vision goes black and I’m left trying to scramble free of the
invisible weight, my breath as loud as my heart and almost as fast.
     Two hands scoop under my armpits and lift me free of the weight. I feel
the couch rise up to meet me, or maybe me be lowered to it. When I open my
eyes, I hadn’t even realised I’d closed them, I see Gerard staring back wide
eyed at me. I blush.
     “Are you okay?” he gushes. The flat door is wide open and a plastic target
bag is lying on the floor, several bottles of vodka rolling out. I nod. “I
thought you were having a fucking stroke. Fuck! What was that?”
     I go to speak but a mix of not knowing what I want to say and shock only
allows me make a small choked sound. He sits on the coffee table in front of me
his eyes wide and full of concern. “I’m just a little fucked up, up here,” I
manage to choke out after a while, tapping my head. I really didn’t need
everyone to know that gem about me.
     His expression softens, “You should’ve told me, you like live with me.” I
had no idea how young he is. Only looking him in the eye now I think he must be
closer to my age than Stan’s. Hid eyes shine very brightly but his pupils are a
normal size, other than that I would be convinced he’s high all the time.
     I shake myself back to the present moment and task: “Yea it’s not
something I usually say.”
     “Yea I get it. You’re only new and probably not too trusting yet,” he
stands up, “We all have supreme trust in MG. Only a little trust would be
pointless. Adequate trust; also pointless,” he walks over and picks up the
vodka and closes the door, “If we decide to trust someone we trust them
completely from the start. That’s why you’re here now, in my own apartment and
that’s why we trusted you to deliver that cocaine to Big Paul. We can’t work on
double dealings and only half the people knowing what’s going on. That’s why
we’re so successful. We trust. We may be fucking picky with who we trust, but
when we trust them we do it completely. And we trust you. Would you like to
drink with me? I don’t really go out.”
 
Saturday is always a busy day. It’s the day most people have free to buy from
us. When I leave my tiny bedroom Saturday morning Gerard is in talking to a man
in the sitting room part of the main room. “Would you get us some coffee,
Frank?”
     I wipe my eyes and nod. I press the button on the pot and begin to focus
in on Gerard’s voice, “Well he did send you to the right guys. Only, you must
know terms and conditions are as evident on this deal as on a half price
washing machine.”
     “Yes, I’m aware. Could you maybe fill me in a little more?” The guy asks.
     “We lend you as much as you want. The only limit is reasonable, yea,” you
can hear his smile, “you also have a cap of fifteen months to pay back.
Interest only one percent at first. Doubling each time of course.” Fuck he’s
clever. Stan and the Boss give set time and interest, this must be why they
grew so much so quick. Even five years leaves a thirty two percent interest,
but people don’t think that, they think one percent if they’re fast.
     “Is one million available?” the guy asks. I pour the coffee.
     “Yes, in cash. We only deal in cash,” I walk towards them and see an
extremely cool expression on Gerard’s face. I always wondered what handsome
actually is like. I can’t remember really back when I was younger. I didn’t
really like girls but I said I did because that’s what boys did. I think if I
had to choose an example of handsome it’d be Gerard. I don’t know why it just
seems right. I hand them their coffee when Gerard caught me staring at his
face.
     “Excellent, thank you… What’s your opinion on uh, taking care of people,”
the guy looks nervous. He’s in a suit but a wrinkled one so you know he’s not
really used to business man shit yet.
     “We do it, what kind and who. You know our price varies,” Gerard is
smiling coolly over his mug.
     “What?”
     “Want us to fuck with the person, like ruin their car, steal their mail,
rob them, etcetera, one hundred and fifty,” the other guy breathes in sharply.
I realise I’m just standing there and hurry off to the kitchen to get food
while listening. The guy must think I’m fucking stupid. “Want us to injure or
maim; three fifty.” The guy nods slowly in the reflection of the window.
“Finally, you must know that making him disappear is a lot more. It’s more
dangerous and the consequences are more serious. One thousand dollars.”
    The guy purses his lips and scratches his chin. My toast pops up just as he
says, “I have five hundred bucks now, the other hundred when he’s gone. And I
mean gone, gone.”
     “Sure! Who?” Gerard extends his hand.
     “This guy,” he takes out a wad of cash from his coat inside pocket. He
fumbles a bit before pulling out a photo and a scrap of paper. “Timothy Holmes.
Here’s his address. Before the end of the month please. I need to keep him
permanently from fulfilling a certain engagement…”
     “What engagement?”
     “Doesn’t matter.” Gerard winces at this.
     They smooth out the details of getting the money to him. When he leaves
Gerard sits down with a sigh. “He must know that without a reason getting rid
of this guy is going to weigh heavily on my conscience.”
     “We shouldn’t pick and choose our laws,” I find myself saying.
     His head flies up, “Fuck, what? Of course we can. We can choose that the
law against dealing isn’t as important as the law against fucking rape!”
     I freeze and stiffen completely. My throat tightens and I can feel my
vision begin to darken at the edges.
     “Fuck Frank,” Gerard jumps up and catches me before I collapse, “I’m so
sorry… what did I say… I’m so sorry,” he repeats himself and pulls me over to
the couch.
     I try force myself to be okay but it’s just so hard. All I can hear is we
shouldn’t pick and choose our lawson repeat.
     When I regain myself again, after an embarrassingly long time, I’m lying
half on Gerard as he murmurs; “you’re alright now,” as he rocks me side to
side.
     I spring up. “Fuck, sorry… fuck.”
     “It’s okay. I had no idea how fucking bad you’re fucked up man,” Gerard
looks so concerned. You don’t know me!I want to scream.
     “You barely know me at all,” I whimper. Not as manly as my planned
statement.
     He purses his lips, “Yea.”
     The silence that followed was awkward and prolonged. After a while Gerard
speaks. “I need your help.”
     “Anything,” what kind of a fucking answer did I just give…
     “Uh, okay, we’re trying to move in on Venom territory, right? They own too
much of the south side. Do you by any chance know some weak spots, somewhere
people would be quicker to take a cheaper deal, or a stronger drug?”
     I scratch the back of my head. I don’t know if I should tell the truth or
not. Of course I know, though, I ran the books. I know more about where the
best income comes from than Stan or the Boss ever did without me telling them.
     “Yea have you got a map?” I find myself saying. Gerard jumps up and
fetches one immediately. We splay the detailed map of south side New Jersey on
the coffee table. “These people,” I say tapping two blocks that I know to be
all housing, “are cheaper than these,” I point to another block. “But they
would be quality conscious as fuck. These would be your best bets. You could
give the cheaper ones worse quality, ratio of like one part cocaine to twelve
part talcum powder and they’d still sniff it up if they thought it was
cheaper.”
     Gerard nods slowly. “You seem to have good insight,” he says.
     “Yea I grew up there,” I say looking at the odd rectangle where I shared
the first fourteen years of my life with my mom. “I’d see it often. Kids
smoking pre-rolled joints that are almost all tobacco.”
     Gerard nods again, “And what about the quality conscious ones?”
     “Put the price up maybe five dollars a unit even if the quality is only a
little stronger.”
      “But if we deal in those two places we are very much surrounded by
Venom.”
     “Yes but they don’t actually deal here and here, they just sell to people
from there but in different places. This car park mainly,” I tap the page, “You
could sell to both blocks from here, assuming this is yours already, and they
won’t realise you’ve even moved in on their land.”
     “You know what Frank,” he smiles, “I knew we needed someone like you.”
Chapter End Notes
     Hi guys, thank you for reading and also thank you sfm for all the
     comments! I'm here smiling at my screen everytime i go to update :
     )))) More is on the way! Probably same time tomorrow if i can
***** You wanna follow something *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
It’s been two weeks since I first moved in. At first they just had me doing
very low grade things, dealing, and delivery and picking up groceries for
everyone in the target. I know everyone in the gang now; two girls and twenty
two guys. I share the main flat with Gerard and sometimes Mikey. When Mikey
stays he stays in his room so I sleep on the couch which is an embarrassingly
good size for my shortness.
     I’ve managed to photograph six people and send the pics to Stan. It would
be easy to photograph Gerard and Mikey but they don’t do street work so it
would be very strange if we started targeting them now.
     Especially because they don’t look at all gangstery. Mikey is about my age
but he was a senior last year, most gangsters don’t finish school but he did
and he has another job as well, he works in hot topic. He wears glasses,
beanies, band shirts and drinks coffee by the gallon. You would not think he’s
one of the biggest fucking gangsters in the state. Gerard too. The guy wears
eyeliner and baggy black hoodies with skinny jeans. He looks like the guy on
all the drugs, not distributing them. No wonder we never guessed him. Probably
never would have.
     I met Ryan again. Our conversation was short. “How’re you doing?” “Okay.”
“Found out much,” “Loads,” “Like?” “They think I’m five different people” “what
the fuck really” “Yep. They have a lot of photos and their territory is so much
bigger than ours. Also they have this good way of making money off loans, ask
Stan I told him,” “Okay,” “I better go” “Same here, take care of yourself
Frankie”.
     My inside knowledge of Venom helps me jump ranks in MG and within the two
weeks I’m literally just underneath Mikey. No one says who ranks where, it’s
something you just know. And I know that my fucking fast ascent is bothering
the people I’ve jumped.
     “Frank go to Ray’s for me will you?” Gerard says walking into my room at
about ten am. I’m dressing and double over completely, trying to hide the fact
I’m naked but for underwear. Gerard’s eyes fall down on me and he walks back
out, not really feeling bad for intruding more trying to not stare. My skin
pricks up. The way his eyes fell on me and grew larger remains imprinted on my
brain.
     I arrive at Ray’s and pick up the “special doughnut delivery”. “How’s it
going Frank?” He smiles as I dip in behind to the ovens.
     “Pretty fucking awesome Toro,” I say, picking up the large box full of
meth. I hand him the money as we chat pleasantly about flour prices now that a
customer has entered. 
     When I get back to the apartment Gerard is pacing about rapidly, shouting
down the phone. “I don’t give a fuck! No- No- No you shut the fuck up this is
not o-fucking-kay. No. I’m fucking doing something tonight. No fuck it. I don’t
care we’re “seven up”! Fuck that this is too far. No- No- fuck you!” Gerard
cancels the call and throws his phone out the window. He runs his fingers
through his hair, continuing in his ferocious pace. I put the box of meth down.
    “What happened?” I gasp. I’ve never seen anyone this distressed.
    “Venom! No this is not okay,” he groans, kicking over a chair. “Not okay…
so not okay.”
     “What happened!?” I say stopping Gerard with a hand on his chest.
     He stares down at me and I see total horror in his eyes. Oh god whata
voice inside me pleads. “Shanty… they fucking raped shanty…” he rubs his face
violently with his hands. “I can’t believe this. This is too fucking low.” We
shouldn’t pick and choose our laws.I shudder. “We can’t let them get away with
this, FUCK!”
     I grab his arm and pull him down to the couch. He begins shaking. I have
no idea how to comfort him. “Er… how do you even know it was Venom?”
     His head shoots up, “They cut it into the skin above her chest!” he wails.
My head turns and twists up to look at the picture on the wall behind us, the
picture of Chantel where they cut into her, letting us know that they know us.
Gerard sees where my eyes went, “No this is different, we didn’t rapeher or
leave her passed out down an alley overnight.”
     Oh. “Who?” I growled.
     He shakes his head, “oh god I don’t know. I just don’t know. We have to
ask her oh god.”
     I bight my lip and wrap my arm around him. I don’t know why I’m doing
this. I think I should stop. Before I could pull my arm back Gerard is leaning
right into me and shaking violently. “She’s only sixteen,” he mumbles, digging
his head into my shoulder. I thought she was older, she looks older. Whoever
the fuck it was… “Frank, you haven’t said it outright but I see it… I see how
scarred you are. I don’t want this for poor Shanty too. I told her this was
dangerous. All of this is dangerous… She’s too fucking young and… I’m going to
fucking kill them.”
     I stiffen and Gerard notices, “What?” he says. Looking up at me. It feels
weird seeing him like this… Really weird… It feels like I want him to look at
me like that forever.
     “Murder..?” I croak. I know it wouldn’t have been Ryan or Ronnie but
murder just isn’t cool. Like any of the guys… even Stan.
      “Fuck it you’re right. We knocked off their last leader, another murder
and I don’t think they’ll go without taking care of more of us…” He sighs and
snuggles back into my shoulder, his tremors calming slightly. We remain there
interlinked for a while. This is weird.
     About half an hour later the door opens. Gerard flies up and runs over to
the door as it opens. Guy helps Shanty in. Her face is tear stained and her
dress is torn. Her hair is a mess. “Who was it? We’ll get them back just who
was it?” Gerard demands in a strangely soft way. Shanty bursts into tears.
“Just point to the one okay?” Gerard says and jerks his head in the direction
of the photo wall. Guy walks her over to the wall. Oh my god she is so covered
in blood. And the big, jerky red cuts where the word Venom is across her chest…
     Shanty looks up at the wall, scans the photos and points to one. “Him,”
her voice trembles as she marks out her rapist, the boss of Venom.
 
Guy goes back to work leaving shanty to take a warm bath in Gerard’s apartment
as Gerard and I plan things. This is literally how high he has raised me; I
don’t have to mix anything, I don’t have to deal. I just plan shit.
     “Okay so this is his car,” Gerard says, sliding me a picture. But this is
literally all we know. I knew where he lived but then he shot Mikey in the foot
so I set his apartment on fire…”
     “He shot Mikey?” I gasp. That was never brought up… Ever.
     “Yea. I thought it was because he knew who Mikey was. That’s why I started
showing them that we knew who they were. Turns out they didn’t and still don’t
know Mikey, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyway that guy
is a total asshole. He needs to be taken down.” It occurs to me as Gerard
speaks that he doesn’t actually realise Stan is boss.
     “Any idea who is the boss now?” I say casually, looking at the pic of
Stan’s car.
     Gerard shakes his head, “I wish I did. Fucking bastards.”
     “So what will we do?” I say.
     “Vandalise his car? Set fire to his girlfriend? Probably doesn’t have one
ugly little asshole. We’ll get them. All of them. This is too far, she’s only
sixteen.” The young age presses in my mind. I can feel my heart beat and the
edge of my vision threatens to engulf my sight in a black veil. But no, I push
it back. It’s not fair for me to freak out, not now. This isn’t about me. Venom
just don’t care about age. If they can do it they will. The boss didn’t care I
was only fourteen. Or when I was only fifteen. Or sixteen or seventeen or
eighteen or nineteen…
     I’ve never felt such a sway in my loyalty.
 
I sneak around to the lane where the car is parked. A brand new BMW. Even in
the darkness and shadiness of the alley you can see it shine. Like a thing of
beauty, showing off the suspicious wealth of a guy who still dresses like a
hobo. Stan is really taking liberties as a leader, never paying anyone else
anymore yet somehow buying a brand new car.
     I take out the knife and yellow spray paint from my belt. My breath is
rapid and I can hear my heart and feel it pulsing all over me. I never had to
do this kind of shit before but “I’m the only one they definitely don’t know.”
     I walk quickly up to the car. I bend over at the back tire and slash it
open. It hisses like a snake. I then dig the knife into the metal above the
tire. The scraping is atrocious as I drag the knife through the shiny metal
toward the front. I pull it out giving my ears a beautiful silence. Checking
over my shoulder, I slash the front tyre. No one around. I know they won’t be,
Stan never leaves this club before two am anyway. Caution, caution so much
caution it borders paranoia.  I shake myself and then the can and then begin
spraying VENOMon the windshield. I slash the other two tyres quickly. I then
Spray VENOMall over the walls either side of the car. I stand on the bonnet to
reach higher than I normally could so its not obviously the tiny me. I take a
deep breath, preparing for the worst part. I shove the knife in my belt and
take out the gun. BANG SHATTER BANG SHATTER BANG SHATTER BANG SHATTER.I turn
away and run as fast down the lane as I can until I’m safely back in MG
territory.
Chapter End Notes
     So we're eating through the plot now :) i feel really weird writing
     divided loyalties... what do you guys think, is Gerard a hypocrite or
     does he see borders where venom have decided the shouldn't pick and
     choose their laws? I don't know what I even think to tell the truth
     xD thanks for reading!
***** You'll never make me leave *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
For the first time, I dream but I don’t dream about the boss. Just because my
terror wasn’t about being forced into horrors doesn’t mean it wasn’t a
nightmare. This time I fucking dreamt about forcing myself on another.
     It was me that fucking raped Shanty in my dream. She was standing in that
horrible room back at Venom. I shoved her to the floor as she wailed for me to
“let her go”, like the boss did, I ignored every plee. I don’t think she was
naked but it makes no sense that she was dressed. I pulled her back by the hair
and then by the neck, making her choke as I drove into her. The sound of her
struggle a sweet melody I adopted as my rhythm. After a while I pulled her up
onto me and I found myself saying those horrible words, “Sing to me. Sing to me
Frank.” She pleaded to me, telling me she can’t. I choked her as I held her on
me making her gag and punch fruitlessly at my thighs.
     When I dart awake it is about five in the morning. My cheeks are tear
stained and my throat hurts. I just hope that if I was crying I wasn’t loud
enough to wake Gerard. I really hope Gerard didn’t hear me cry as he doubtless
he has before. I’m getting sick of seeming so weak in front of him.
     I’m tired but force myself out of bed. It’s not about me not being able to
sleep, more about being afraid. I’m afraid to close my eyes and relive old
horrors or create new. Maybe if I never sleep, I never have to face those
horrors and I can just die from exhaustion.
     I shake myself and run my hands over my face and through my hair. It’s
getting long, I might get it cut soon but Gerard says he likes it long.
     I walk into the main room in a pair of sweat pants. An orange glow lights
the room from outside. The soft glow guides my way to the fridge. The sound of
it swinging open disguised the sound of Gerard’s bedroom door opening behind
me. When I turn around the sight of Gerard, pale and ghostly is enough to make
me jump and drop my can of soda. It fizzes as it spurts out of the holes and I
gasp audibly above it. “Fuck Gerard,” I breathe, and swing the fridge closed
behind me. “I didn’t hear you fucking move.”
     The orange light exaggerates the soft plains of his skin and the dark
dents. He’s only in his fucking boxers. “Are you okay?” he asks looking at me
from under his bangs. His hair has grown longer and I like it better this way
too, even with his inch long roots.
     “Yea,” I bend over to pick up the fallen can, “couldn’t sleep.”
     “I think that is a lie,” he muses.
     “I think that you’re wrong,” I hum.
     “I think that I know you better than you think.”
     “I think you fucking don’t.”
     “I think that you’re gorgeous.”
     “I think… wait what,” I choke out stunned.
     “What?” he says innocently.
     I stare at him, words forming in my throat but dying on the way out of my
mouth in various whines. “What did you just say?” I finally manage.
     “I didn’t say anything.”
     “Yes you did!”
     “I did not.”
     “You did you said… “I think that you’re gorgeous.””
     “That’s very nice of you to say,” he grins. Fuck. My breath begins to
quicken. I don’t like this, this not being in control. I just… “I’m sorry
Frank,” he sighs, “It had to be said. I think I’ll go back to sleep now.”
     “No wait,” I find myself saying. Somehow he’s getting closer but he’s not
moving. Somehow I’m reaching out for him without my mind even saying to.
Somehow my lips find his.
     Somehow we kiss so passionately we land on the couch and somehow I wake up
the next day lying on top of the leader of enemy gang.
 
Mikey new something was up when he came over at lunchtime with a report saying
they finally managed to make that guy, Timothy Holmes, disappear. “He was
fucking hard to get alone. Also the guys felt really bad, he has a kid. We also
don’t know what he fucking did wrong!” his eyes fall on me. “You okay Frankie?”
I nod blushing. “Okay… We managed to make it look like suicide but we know so
little about him, people may think it’s out of the blue or some shit.”
     Gerard nods, “Hanging?”
     Mikey gulps and adjusts his glasses. “Yea. I fucking hate this, Gerard. I
fucking hate it.”
     Gerard looks empathically over at his brother. “Frank, go to 208 Meriton
Avenue and look for Dave Peters on the bells. Say the word swordfish into it if
he answers. Go up get the money and be back in time for casserole. Family
dinner tonight.”
     I get a cab. I have no idea where Meriton Ave is. As we drive I’m
horrified to see us enter Venom land. Fuck. I keep my head down as we wait at
traffic lights. We pass the alley where I destroyed Stan’s car. We pass the
place I used to get beaten up. The library and just before we come toward my
first home the driver swings left into a slightly more well off area. The
farther up the street we go the nicer the houses look until the driver pulls
over and says “that’ll be thirteen thirty- four, exact change please.”
     208 is high and narrow with enough doorbells that makes me think that more
people live here than on the island of Ireland. I read through the scrawled
names until I catch a glimpse of “Peters”. I hold in the button. “Hello,” the
voice comes crackled through the receiver.
     “Er, hi….” I say awkwardly, “sword fish…?” A loud beep answers me and I
press in the door. It’s only a few flights of stairs to David Peters’
apartment.
     The door swings open just as I’m about to knock and a half dressed version
of the man I saw almost a month ago stands before me. “So you from MG?” he
slurs.
     “Uh... yea. It’s done,” I say awkwardly.
     “Did ya hear that darlin’!” he calls, swinging to the side and I can see a
fully undressed woman sitting on the couch completely drunk. “You’re fucking
fiancé’s dead!” he roars with laughter but the woman’s face falls. “I best get
you you’re money!” He slams the door in my face.
     Through the thin walls and door I hear the woman wail as the man tells her
to “shut it” and some more vulgar things.
     When the door opens the man hands me out a stack of money while the woman,
naked next to him wails, “HOW COULD YOU” over and over while punching at and
slapping his leg.
     I walk away quickly as the door shuts. I think MG has just done a really,
really bad thing. Maybe we shouldn’t pick and choose our laws but morals is a
whole new level. I run down the stairs and into the street.
    
                                                                                                                  
With my eyes trained on the ground, I leave Venom land as quickly as possible,
this territory was once my home and haven now threatens my life. At one point,
while taking an alley way short cut, I run. Properly run through the broad
daylight as if I’ve committed a crime. In the past forty eight hours I’ve done
nothing illegal but I’ve never felt so guilty. I don’t even want to tell Gerard
or Mikey, they felt bad enough.
     The lights at the crossing go green and I’m about to step out when a fire
truck speeds past me, sirens blaring. I wonder what’s on fire at three pm.
     After several blocks my question is answered. The smell of smoke hits me
long before the sight of it does. A large ark has now gathered, incircling the
small burning building. Most of the fire men are trying to put out the fire
while three or four try disperse the crowd. “Fuck,” I spit and begin running
again.
     “Don’t come any closer,” a fireman says, putting his hand on my chest.
     “It’s fine,” Ray says, “He’s a friend of mine.” The gloved hand rises and
I walk the final few steps toward Ray. His hair is wilder than ever and his
face wears a frown, something that seems so alien on his face.
     “What happened?” I gasp, looking up at his burning livelihood.
     “Venom,” his voice trails. I look directly up and I can see it. On every
window, even though most are shattered, you can see the word in yellow spray
paint. Stan must be actually going insane, this is all too far. Ray isn’t part
of MG, Ray is just a big haired baker.
     “Aw dude I’m so sorry,” I say, looking up at Ray.
     He lets out a shaky sigh, “It’s okay,” he lies, “Tell Gerard it was lovely
to do business with him but I’m afraid I can’t anymore,” his voice breaks half
way through the sentence and the last five words are barely intelligible.
     I try for a moment to comfort Ray. After a while he plainly says he’d like
to be alone. I can’t take offence in this, he’s a broken man. I jog off again,
leaving the last few flames to lick at Ray’s life. When I’m almost at the
corner I hear a massive explosion and see shards of glass fly out at the
firemen and Ray. I would run back the see if he was hurt but he’s still
standing so I assume so. When I’m a block away, I hear a large rumbling. That,
I assume, is the fucking building falling down.
Chapter End Notes
     *this chapter wasn't even in my plan*
     Hi guys! So I wasn't even sure I would be finished today i've had so
     much on (got home late, homework, had to bake, practice guitar,
     shower, eat dinner...) but I did. I especially didn't see myself
     writing this chapter but i think it will be key in the run up to the
     following events so keep an eye out!
     Thanks for reading and if i can i shall update tomorrow! :))
***** Black is the kiss, the touch of the serpent son *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Gerard broke down when he got the call about Ray. It happened to seconds after
I stepped in the front door. I’ve heard it said that he’s too soft for the
business. That he gets too attached in a business where you can’t guarantee
you’ll see twenty five. But no one would say this to Gerard, he may not have
wrought iron emotions but he is cunning and he commands a loyal and trusting
following.
     Gerard sinks to his knees in the no man’s land between the kitchen and
sitting room areas. For a while he just kneels there, as if in prayer, hands
clasped to his chest. I move forward and say, “Ray is…” and he bursts into
tears, hands flying up to block his ears, to stop the bad news. He shakes as he
lowers himself to the floor. Mikey seems to have gone home.
    Gerard coughs trying to catch his breath as sobs rip through. He has the
emotional stability of a young child. His phone rings, instead of answering it
he slides it to me and continues to shake. His sobs now inaudible with
ferocity.
     “Hello?” I say into the phone.
     “Frank?” the voice replies.
     “Yea?”
     “What’s wrong with Gerard?” the voice I think belongs to a guy called
Shaggy, named after his resemblance to the character from Scooby do.
     “He’s, er, not here right now. What is it?”
     He makes a weird grunting noise, “who made you second in command?” he asks
indignantly.
     “No one… i…. what is it?”
     “Toro the baker is alive and in a critical condition. His house fucking
blew up. Tell boss, I’m gone to see if I can’t get my hands on that J. Vincent,
the guy we think does their heroine and see if I can’t blow up him,” he hangs
up angrily. Fuuuuck. Jacky did supply us with heroin for a few years but he
moved across country recently, only his ex and kids are there.
     I don’t think Shaggy would kill kids.
     I put the phone on the ground and go to sit next to Gerard. “Hey, Ray is
alive,” I say soft as I can. “Just in hospital but they’re gonna make him good
and healthy again okay?”
     He flies up straight and stares at me, eyeliner running down his smooth
cheeks and pooling at his chin. “They’re just such dirty players,” he gushes
and lies his head against my chest. “Only this is one game where they can’t be
sent off, or showed a card, or suspended. They can only be fought dirty. They
can only be sent off, permanently!” he says, shaking in rage.
     “Yea, it’s not fair.” I coo. I could fucking kill Stan myself. He just
likes to collect blood on his hands.
 
I’m lying in bed. I’m not asleep but I haven’t got much of a chance to try nod
off. My mind is racing. The bakery in flames, the guy who just hired us to kill
some girl’s fiancé. The fact that we literally just killed a guy for being
engaged to some girl. The fact that I keep referring to MG as “we”.
     “They” would be more fitting. Why the fuck do I get so sucked into working
with them. It’s been a month. A month and I have only seen Ryan twice and
Ronnie never.
    My door opens. The light that creeps over my bed and into my eyes is
blinding in comparison to the dark I was about to sleep to. “What,” I croak.
    A black silhouette casts a shadow, the only respite from the light. The
shadow moves forward and closes the door behind him. When my eyes adjust again
I see Gerard slinking against the door.
     I sit up straight looking down at my new boss. “Um… Gerard…”
     His eyes lift to mine. He’s pupils are huge, even though it’s dark. “Ray
made great meth,” he says, walking on his knees towards my bed. “But I always
preferred pills, and booze,” he flops into my bed. “And the amount of pills
I’ve taken, counteracts the booze I’m drinking.” He grins a bit, waving the
bottle of Smirnoff in front of my face.
     I take it off him and put it on the windowsill above my bed. “Don’t take
it unless you’re going to drink it,” he says matter-of-factly.
     “Gerard…” I say looking down on him.
     “Drink it or would you prefer one of these,” he grins and reveals a tub of
pills. I grab them off him.
     “Gerard, stop it,” I say, putting them up too.
     He sighs and rests his head on top of my bed, “I’m bad at this Frankie.”
     “Bad at what?” I ask, bending down to rub his back.
     “I’m bad at this, but I think you’re making me better,” he purrs, “you
must be making me better because I was worse. Then there was you. And now I’m
still very very bad but I am better.”
      “Gerard… what?” He shoots up and launches himself at me. He lies, fully
covering me, and kissing the general area around my mouth. I begin to panic and
my eyesight threatens to go truly black. NoI think No you were doing so well.
You were going so well.I push back at my memories and at the black in the side
of vision. He’s my boss but he’s not the bossI chant to myself.
     Gerard finally notices my shaking and sits up, straddling me but letting
me see and breathe freely, “I’m sorry. Fuck I’m so sorry. I forgot…” he tips
over and is about to fall off me, off my bed, onto the ground.
     “Gerard!” I half gasp, half groan as I grab his arm and yank him upright.
He falls on top of me again, only this time his head’s on my chest and our legs
are intertwined together with the blankets.
    After a while I think Gerard has fallen asleep. His breath is easy and in
time with the rising and falling of my chest. I can’t sleep now, not with
Gerard lying on me like this. I reach behind me and grab the vodka. It’s almost
full which means Gerard must have drank at least a full one to himself. I tip
it up and drain it. Something I’ve been practising since I was fourteen, when
Venom drank, you drank as much as you could on your turn because chances are it
won’t come around again.
     I put the empty bottle back up and feel it move through me and work its
magic on my brain. After about ten minutes my brain feels like a ball of cotton
wool. I suddenly become a lot more aware of the guy sleeping on me, and where
his hands are. One is on my chest, under his head. The other is lower, resting
on the top of my briefs.
     I feel so conscious of how my body feels under him. I feel everything. I
want to sleep now to get rid of this feeling. But I can’t sleep can I, not when
I feel myself so hard against Gerard’s stomach.
    I lie their awkwardly, looking through vodka fuzzed eyes at a crack in the
ceiling.
    After a few minutes Gerard jolts awake and flings himself to the ground. In
a weird panic he crawls to the bedroom door. “What!?” I slur after him.
     “I… I need to… I need to,” he falls over and lies in front of my door.
     “What the fuck Gerard?!” I exclaim, pushing the bed sheets of my lower
legs and stumbling down next to him. I lie on my stomach next to him. He bursts
out laughing and I join him. “I like like you,” he whispers amongst his
giggles.
     “I like like you too,” I giggle-whisper back.
     “Do you?!” he says, rather shocked. I nod as much as I can considering I’m
on the floor and the door is just beside me.
     He giggles and pushes himself into a wavering seated position. I can’t
focus in on him very well. I sit up to, propped against the door. He crawls
over to me, looking up flirtatiously from under his bangs. “Want to do
something fun.”
     “I don’t really know how,” I slur. He sits beside me and leans his head on
my shoulder.
     “You have before though, right?”
     “Never voluntarily.” He stiffens and swings himself around so that his
head is on my lap and he’s staring up at me.
     “Never?” he mumbles, “Like never ever? You were always forced?” I nod and
he winces.
     I stare down at his wide eyes and he stares back up at me. He starts
mumbling, “I’m sorry,” over and over.
     “It’s fine!” I say and Gerard rolls over so he is face down on my lap. I’m
actually getting harder, this is scaring me slightly, but in an okay way.
     “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into my legs and then shuffles around and pulls my
briefs off.
     “Gerard-” my own breath silences me as Gerard takes me in his mouth. My
mind threatens to flash pictures of when it was reversed but god bless vodka
which makes them go away.
     It’s a wonder I’m not an alcoholic. Maybe it’s because I can’t really
afford to be.
     Gerard moves his mouth over my length and runs his tongue over my head. I
groan embarrassingly loudly. Gerard smiles over me and starts to go faster. I
feel the well build up in me insanely. “I don’t- I won’t last”
      Gerard comes up to say, “you don’t have to,” and then returns with more
speed than before. I can’t help but buck my hips and groan as I fill his mouth.
He coughs a little and then comes back up. “Let’s sleep now,” he slurs.
     “What about your turn,” I slur, dazed.
     “What about it,” he grins and stumbles into my bed. I pull up my briefs
half way and stumble after him.
 
We wake up intertwined and cold. I only wake because Gerard is shivering. His
eyes are bloodshot when they fly open. “Oh fuck.. what… I didn’t, did I. Fuck
I’m sorry,” and he begins the apologising again.
     “Stop apologising. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. His “sorry”s were
only making my head hurt more. He nods and heaves himself from the bed. I fall
back on my pillow as he leaves my room. He’s naked but I don’t think he
realises this. I look down and I am too. Time to sleep off a little more of
this headache.
 
“I have a job for three of you,” Gerard says to Mikey, Guy and me. It’s six o
clock. “I think that this guy is the new leader and we need him gone. He’d be
the one who set fire to Ray’s as well as rape Shanty so can he be gone by
midnight?”
     I stare at the photo of Stan. He’s so unphotogenic it’s almost funny. I
have no problem with ridding the world of Stan but he never travels alone.
“He’s literally never alone,” Guy says, backing up my thought. I never new it
but Guy is the Venom stalker. He just follows them around, literally. And
what’s most disturbing is they never notice.
     I nod. “Yea that’s why I’m sending three of you,” Gerard says. “Where will
he be tonight Guy?”
     “Uh he’ll be going to that fucking bar at about ten,” Guy replies,
correctly.
     “Great, I’ll get some guns yea?” Gerard smiles.
     We’re in position early. We hide in the shadows till the car pulls up. Two
guys hop out of the brand new car. I can’t tell who they are but next thing I
know Guy strolls out of the shadows, gun pointed, “Stand still.”
     The two guys jump and reach for their weapons. Me and Mikey walk out
behind him, guns posed.
     “Frank?” A voice says, oh god it’s not Stan’s.
     The next three seconds fly. Guy fires the first shot and then suddenly
theres bullets everywhere. Mikey grunts as a bullet hits him somewhere and a
guy in front of me falls. My voice makes a choked sound as the other one runs
from the alley into the daylight. “Lets go!” Guy shouts and him and Mikey take
off into the alley.
     I can’t run. I can’t even breathe. I collapse to the wet, filthy ground.
I’m not shot and I never fired a shot but someone is dead and it’s not fucking
stan.
     I crawl forward and sit by the body of my oldest friend. I check his pulse
and his breath. “Oh Fuck This!” I scream and pull Ryan’s head onto my lap.
Blood flows from his chest at the same speed the heat leaves his body.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm sorry.
     I'm so so sorry.
***** Love is the red, the rose on your coffin door *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“What’s wrong!?” Gerard exclaims when he sees me limp into the flat at two am.
I waited at Ryan’s body till Ronnie and the ambulance arrived. I texted Ronnie
off Ryan’s phone and called the ambulance. Then I walked slowly home through
the shadows. I took alleys all the way. I couldn’t face the light less it
literally laminated the blood on my hands. The blood of my only real friend in
the world. At one time I broke down, the tears blinding me and causing me to
walk into a brick wall. I’d slid down the wall, scraping my face against the
course brick and landing in a heap at the base. I must have sat crying for
about an hour.
     I stare at him for a minute before walking to my room, silent. “What
happened?!” He demands again from behind me. “Why didn’t you come home with Guy
and Mikey?” I pause at my door, leaning my head against the chipboard.
     “I got lost,” I mumble.
     “The fuck you did!” I open the door and walk in, “Jesus Christ answer me
Frank! I’d thought you were dead!” The last word is muffled by the slamming of
my bedroom door.
     I sit on my bed in the dark. Maybe if I take all the pills that Gerard had
brought in to my room, and still reside on my window sill, I’d die. I pick them
up and examine them in the feint glow of the city coming through my window. I
put them up to my mouth. No, I think, no point in dying now.I open my window
and toss them at the roof of the neighbouring building. No temptation.
     I own two phones. A good one I got from MG to contact everyone here, and
an old nokia to contact Venom, well Stan. I take the Venom one out and consider
throwing It out the window like the pills. It is a nokia though, so it will
probably be fine if I did. Maybe I could set it on fire.
     The screen lights up with a text from Stan. “It’s time”.
     Venom is feeling the loss of Ryan so badly that apparently it’s time for
me to kill Gerard. I sit on my bed, paralysed. I guess I’m just not that into
murder.
     I go to throw my nokia out the window after all when it lights up again.
“There is a vile of venom in the wall where Ryan was shot. I know you know
where. Forty Eight Hours.” I throw open the window and with a fierce growl I
fling it at the wall.
     I begin to cry for the third time today. I think at some point I pass out
because when I open my eyes I’m on my bed, fully clothed and tears stained dry
on my cheeks. I’m nearly brought to tears again when I see that my hands are
stained in blood. I leap from the bed and run for the bathroom.
     “Frank?” Gerard calls as soon as I appear in the main room, but I ignore
him and go straight into the bathroom. I can hear his questioning protest to my
“being a rude asshole” but I don’t reply. Instead I run the water and watch as
the red swirls down, diluted but still so obviously blood. When I look up into
the mirror my face is covered in blood and trails caused by tears interrupting
some of the patches. This blood, I think, may be my own. My forehead and nose
are skint raw. Some of the blood must be Ryan’s from when I leaned in to check
his breath, or maybe when I clutched my face screamed.
     The water stings the cuts and when I look back up it looks like my skin is
melting off. I wash away as much as I can, letting the red water be caught up
in the current that will bring it down below. I stain a yellow towel with the
remainder. I can’t believe I slept in so much blood.
     Gerard is pacing the main room shouting down the phone when I finally
leave the bathroom. “Fuck it! He could have died! You DON’T just leave people
Guy!! … No, you shut up, I’ll talk to my brother! ... You don’t know that! …
Right, fuck off I need to talk to him. No, no shut the fuck up you didn’t even
get the right one!” He jerks the phone down from his ear and flings it onto the
couch. “Fuck!” he exclaims in a final exasperated bellow.
     “Uh,” I begin, but what to say.
     “You scared me shitless!” he shouts. “You can’t disappear after a gun
fight like that! And then come home at like two am covered in blood and
limping! What the fuck Frank!” He starts pacing again, “What kept you?!”
    “I got lost,” I mumble looking at the ground.
     “Bullshit, you know the city! And why were you so covered in blood, why
was your face so covered in blood?! Did you fucking make out with the corpse?
Is, what is it, necrophilia? On your list of problems? This another thing that
you keep from me!”
     I stare, speechless.
     “Ew Frank please say it’s not that!”You fucking scared me half to death,”
he puts his hands over his face and flung himself to the couch, “fuck it Frank,
you could have been dead.”
     I stand awkwardly beside him. “I’m need to get out of here,” I say after a
while and run for the door, ignoring Gerard’s calls and noises of frustration I
push my way down the hall and out into the soft rain.
 
The vile of poison is in the wall where a brick has been broken, by a bullet. I
slip it into my coat pocket and walk back to the flat. The rain is running the
remaining blood down to the drain and I dodge precariously around it in attempt
to get away.
     I walk swiftly through the rain on my own. Just before I leave Venom
territory into the short two blocks we call “no man’s land” because there are
no dealers on the block, I get dragged backwards and turned around.
     “Frank!” Ronnie squeaks uncharacteristically high pitched, “They say you
were there when they shot Ryan.” It’s broad daylight and in the middle of the
day, what’s he thinking.
     Then I look at his eyes and I realise he’s not. “What are you on,” I
murmur, jerking out of his grip, “and yes I was but I didn’t shoot. I’d never
shoot Ryan. He was my best friend.” My voice catches a little.
     “Yea, well now your only fucking friend is fucking dead,” he says and
turns away, running into the crowd. I know he didn’t mean it, he’s high and sad
but still his words cut deep. Ryan was my closest friend and now if I do my job
and return to Venom I’ll have no one. Unless Ronnie comes around. I lightly
touch the vile in my pocket and continue my walk back to the flat.
     Every step sends me further into apprehension that by the time I open the
door and see Gerard’s face from the couch, I’m totally unsure. Maybe I can
poison another and say it’s Gerard or…
     “Frank are you okay?” he looks really worried. “Seriously what’s going on
with you, I’ve been worried sick!”
      “Fuck it Gerard!” I shout. My vision is black at the edges, not this
again fuck,I shove my hand in my pocket. “Fuck it I can’t!” I shout when I feel
the little cool glass vile in my pocket. I’m not thinking at all. I pick it up
and fling it at the wall, hitting the picture of Stan. Gerard jumps up and
looks confused, switching his glance from me to the liquid that’s sizzling on
the wall.
     It’s some point after he says my name that I black out.
 
I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want to come to my senses and have to justify
that moment of madness. I don’t want to have to open my eyes and tell Gerard I
was almost going to close his forever.
     Unfortunately I do wake, lying in the middle of the floor with Gerard
standing at the window. “You were going to kill me,” he states when he sees my
eyes open. “You were going to fucking kill me?!”
     I sit up straight, I can see hurt in his eyes. It’s from the fact that we
broke his precious fucking trust. I stare at him unsure what I could even say.
“You’re part of fucking Venom. That’s how you knew everything.I can’t believe I
didn’t realise,” he looks so angry, “I let you live in my own home! I let you
sleep in my brother’s bed! Worse I let myself like you,” his voice is bordering
hysteria now, “I let myself care for you and think “Well no matter how short
and dangerous this life may be and least I don’t have to die alone” well now I
think I’d like to die alone! Get the fuck out of here right now! I’ll have to
tell the guys you were shot or poisoned or something. Fuck it. Fuck you. Get
out.”
     I stumble to the door and push my way down to stairs. I run all the way
toward the apartment of my nightmares as my eyes well up with even more fucking
tears.
 
“What do you mean it failed!” Stan is shouting. The back of my head stings from
where he threw me against the wall.
    “The vile broke and he saw,” I mumble.
     “No, no this is not one you can fail at. You either succeed or you die
trying!” He screams, his face tomato in shade as he lands me a blow to the
ribs. I curl up immediately in pain. “You’re useless as anything but a fucking
prostitute Frank! So that’s what you can be,” I freeze up, “go find yourself a
nice brothel. You can live there and get the fuck out of my sight because I
swear to god you have put is in more fucking danger than saved us from. So you
can get the fuck out.”
     I seize up in horror. “You heard me! Get out! The next time I hear from
you better be your funeral notice because after this I never, ever want to see
you again.”
     And that folks is the story of how I became homeless.
     I slowly stand up, wobbling in pain. Past the judgmental eyes  of Chubs,
Gavin and Jay, I stumble out of the apartment and into the October streets.
    
Chapter End Notes
     Uh yea. I'm sorry if this seems odd or anything. I find writing
     hysteria like Gerard's or nervousness and grief like Frank's really
     difficult without making them not seem like them, if you follow.
     Another chapter is on the way
***** I'm not much a poet, but a criminal *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
I like to believe there are five general types of people in the world. Good
people who do bad things. Bad people who do good things. Good people who do
good things and bad people who do bad things. And then there’s bad people who
are convinced they’re doing good things. I hope I fit into one of the first to
categories.
     I think just because you do one bad thing makes you a bad person. In fact
doing one bad thing, if you are a good person, makes you want to do more good
things to counter act it.
     I was sitting in an alley when Ray saw me a month ago. I was just getting
used to being homeless. Three days on the streets of “no man’s land”. He asked
me if I’m living on the streets again, I said yes. He didn’t ask why or what
happened to the whole being in a gang, just offered me a place to live, over
the river in New York with him and his roommate. “You can get a job and pay
rent as soon as you do, yea?”
     Of course I fucking jumped at the idea of somewhere warmer. Ray’s roommate
is a used car salesman from New York, Bob Bryar. It is a fucking small world.
     So that’s how I end up in another Walmart. Till work, as if I needed more
reminding of my past. I’m nearly twenty years of age and have had to completely
delete my past from everyone except myself.
     “Your total is thirteen fifty five,” I say in a drab voice. The guy’s eyes
are wild and his entire bag full of food consists of Oreos. Thirteen fifty five
dollars spent on Oreos, the guy is definitely high.
     He fumbles around and hands me twenty dollars before stumbling out the
door. Next to the till is Ray, after shopping for our dinner tonight. “Quiche
for later?” he chirps happily.
     “Yea sure,” I’ve been eating a million times better thanks to Ray.
     “Also, I was talking to Gerard earlier,” I freeze midscan. “He told me
they’re moving across the road. Over here.” I stare down at the Nutella jar I
have yet to scan. “I’m just letting you know.”
     I nod, forcing myself to scan the remaining items. “That’s forty two
thirty,” I mumble.
     Quiche is delicious that night. Bob goes out to his brother’s and Ray goes
off somewhere too. I really hate being alone. Sometimes when my brain realises
it’s alone it begins to tell me the Boss or Stan is around, just watching.
Sometimes, worse still, I see Gerard. Just sitting near me, or smiling, or
crying, or freaking out.
     I sit on the old couch and flick through the channels. I find a zombie
movie and sit stiffly as I watch the gore. I hate the way I see his face
everywhere. I have no fucking idea what’s real anymore.
     That’s why when I hear the doorbell ring I hesitate, not sure if it’s
actually ringing. When I finally decide its probably real I’m so shaky and
nervous I think that I may throw up on whoever is outside. I look out through
the peephole and see Gerard.
      I fall against the door murmuring, it’s not him, it couldn’t be him.I’m
almost in tears by the time I pluck up the courage to look out again. It’s not
Gerard.
     “Hello, Mr. Toro?” the delivery guy asks when I answer the door.
     “Uh no,” I choke, “he’s not here at the moment…”
     “Ah,” he looks crestfallen, “this is his address though, right.” I nod.
“Do you live here…” I nod, “Will you sign for him?”
     I sign the delivery forms and take in the big FRAGILE box. I don’t know
where I should put it. “You can just give it to me,” something behind me says,
“I love it when you give it to me.” I freeze. “Don’t be rude Frank,” his voice
purrs. Suddenly he’s in front of me. I drop the box on the armchair in front of
me. It clinks but I don’t think it breaks.
      “Come on Frank,” the boss says grinning yellow teeth. I start to walk
backwards shaking my head.
     “You’re not real. You’re dead! Fucking dead!” I choke out, still walking
backwards.
     “I can still hurt you though,” he smiles. I’m pressed back up against the
wall now.
     “You can’t you’re six feet under the ground miles away!” I punch full
force into his jaw.
     He topples over and lands in a heap. He then begins sobbing. His head
lifts and I see Gerard crying, tears smudging his eyeliner. “Why?” he says.
“Why?” he says again, almost wailing. “I’m sorry,” I stutter, “I’m sorry. I’m
so sorry.” I run from him on the ground and into my bedroom. I lock the door
and shove a chair under it. I jump into my bed and wrap my blanket around me,
rocking side to side close to suffocation, for about an hour before I either
fall asleep or pass out.
 
“You need to get this checked out,” Ray says after he found me cowering in the
bathroom murmuring “I’m so sorry” constantly this morning.
     Bob nods and grumbles, “Seriously Frank, this is fucking terrible.”
      “Yea, I know. I should get seen to, but with what and for what. I’ve only
got five years to go anyway.” They stare at me, mouth open.
     “A fortune teller told me I’d be lucky to have a decade,” I say poking my
pancake, “When I was fifteen.”
     “Frank, you can’t not get help because you believe you’ll be dead in five
years!” Ray says incredulously. Bob nods in reinforcement. “That’s insane!”
     “Maybe,” I muse. “I’ve never been sane though,” I try to walk away then.
      “Frank.”
      “Ray.” I walk out the door. I like Ray and Bob, like I really do, but
this kind of life is not what I’m made for. The whole average Joe job is
killing me and I’ve got too many tattoos to be employed anywhere else. This
stupid paranoia isn’t helping either. It would probably be much better to just
leave Ray and Bob to live a good normal life, but then again I don’t want to
sleep on the streets and starve, again.
     I don’t need to in work for four hours so I think I’ll see if I can walk
to Central Park. In all my life I’ve never been.
     I stand at the cross roads as cars zoom past. Just as they begin to slow I
see Shanty. I shake my head, still her. I rub my eyes, still her. I slap
myself, still her. “Excuse me ma’am, is that girl over there wearing a purple
jumper?” I ask a pregnant woman who just walked up next to me, waiting to
cross. I try say it as calmly as I can manage.
     “The girl with the blonde hair?” she says in a thick New York accent. I
nod. “Yea she is darling’.”
     The lights go green and she begins to cross the road. I start walking and
I see Shanty’s eyebrows raise. “Frank?” She gasps. I keep walking, “Frank.” She
says louder, turning in the middle of the road and jogging back after me.
“Fuck, what? We all think your dead!”
     “I am dead, Shanty,” I say now safely across the road yet I feel in more
danger than being in the centre of New York traffic. “I am dead to MG.”
     “What? That doesn’t make sense…” she looks scared. “You know once you join
something like MG you’re never safe again. You can’t leave, Frank.” Her voice
is urgent and hushed but there’s all traces of how young she is.
     “I know. I was in another but my past caught up so…” I smile meekly and
walk off as fast as I can without looking suspicious. I don’t look back but I
can feel her watch me go.
     The park is packed with tourists, teenagers and people high off what I can
tell to be mainly pills. I wonder how many have gotten them from one of my
former gangs.
     One girl approaches me when I’m looking at a sculpture, “You with Venom,”
she asks hushed. She’s thin with hollow cheeks and eye sockets. Like a girl who
could be conventionally pretty but got way too into heroin.
     I shake my head, “But you’re friends with Ryan Seaman? I think I’ve seen
you with him.”
     “Yea I was,” her words sting.
     “Do you know where he’s gone? I can’t find anyone else from Venom and I’m
going crazy!” She smiles to soften it but her eyes are wild and her voice
harsh.
     “He was shot,” my own words stab me. “Yea eh see if you can find this
guy,” I show her a picture of Ronnie, “he was also a friend of Ryan’s.”
     She nods looking only a little bit shocked at Ryan’s death. I guess
someone in a gang getting shot isn’t a big deal. A guy the government never
knew existed, ceasing to exist.
     I walk out of the park quickly then and take the longer way to work,
avoiding anywhere I think I could possibly find people from my past life. A
dangerous past, one full of fucking death and hangovers, but a past I am
nevertheless itching to get back to.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm beginning to find this fic really hard to write :/
     I had a definite ending at first but now I have two other ideas...
     One (the original) is possibly better but like impossible to execute.
     One idea is cheesy and the other is unlikely af but i don't know...
     Sorry cx ill try decide by the next chapter xD I'm running out of
     time :L
     (Self promotion time... Sorry... Follow me on Twitter...?
     @so_im_a_nerd ... Tumblr& Instagram is @shethinksshesshakespeare ...
     I'll follow y'all back :)) )
***** It ain't the mark or the scar that makes you run *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
I’m risking my ass for you kid. Stan wants you dead. He thought you were till
it was heard you found yourself a job. If Stan wants you dead either you kill
him or you won’t see your birthday. He is also going to kill the leaders of MG.
You tell them this, they’ll give you killing shit. I’ll get you safely alone.
R.
    Ronnie’s note had come extremely unexpectedly a day ago. I was putting the
cash in the cash register when a note fell out from between two ten dollar
notes. When I looked up the person was on their way out without change or
receipt. I pocket the little folded post-it and his change as the next customer
begins unloading their groceries. I have to wait till my cigarette break to
read it.
     I’m risking my ass for you kid. Stan wants you dead. He thought you were
till it was heard you found yourself a job. If Stan wants you dead either you
kill him or you won’t see your birthday. He is also going to kill the leaders
of MG. You tell them this, they’ll give you killing shit. I’ll get you too
safely alone. R.
     It was definitely from Ronnie, but whether or not it’s real is
questionable. I fucking lived with Ronnie for years. Other than Ryan, it was in
him I placed the most trust. Then he fucking dismissed me because I was there
when Ryan died. He’s unpredictable and he can lie but still..
     This isn’t going to help whatever form of paranoia I have.
 
The next note comes in work the next day. It’s two days till my birthday and I
want to fucking see what it’s like to not have “teen” at the end of my age. I
get it rolled up inside a twenty dollar bill. F, tomorrow at seven pm. Come up
the back way. It’ll be just me and Stan. When you hear me leave go in. Don’t
fuck up, I don’t want to lose my last friend at the hands of fucking Stan. R.
    As soon as I’m finished my shift I begin walking toward Gerard’s. This is
insane I think repeatedly this is fucking insane.It’s fucking insane yet I find
myself standing on the subway in rush hour on my way to Jersey to ask a guy I
was supposed to kill for help to kill another.
     This is so fucked up.
     The subway makes its last stop before Jersey. Lots of people get off, even
more get on. And now I’m pressed up against the door on the opposite side to
the opening. My arms are fully stretched upwards to reach the bar that is
keeping me from falling into the window. I stare through the glass at the pipes
that fly by in the darkness. I think for a second I see Gerard staring, gaping.
I shake my head, rubbing the back or my neck and head off the person pressed up
against me. It couldn’t be him and even if it was we’ve zoomed passed himI tell
myself. The pipes continue. I think I see Gerard, falling to the floor, like
the day when he found out about Ray’s bakery. The train hits a light bump. No
one else seems to notice it but it sends me spiralling down to the floor. My
vision blacks out for about forty seconds and I lie in a heap until somebody
picks me up. My vision regained, I push through to the exit and begin my ascent
into New Jersey.
     I immediately enter the shadows of the side streets and alleyways. As soon
as I turn into a narrow lane hidden from the world I realise what a bad idea
this is. I have no way to defend myself if someone decides to hassle me, and
they often do because I’m fucking small. There isn’t even daylight on my side.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
     I come out the other side of the block, thankfully intact. Only a few
miles more.
     I take the familiar streets and crossings and dip through the least dodgy
alleys I can find until I find myself at the building door.
     I walk straight in. My heart pounds louder than my feet do as I run up the
stairs, desperately hoping not to attract any of my former gang mates from
their apartments. Most of them are probably out actually, its quarter to eight;
prime dealing time.
     The closer I get to the top the more nervous I get. The churning of my
stomach keeps me concentrated and I don’t let myself think about anything. I
just see steps and the yellowing wall.
     And then there are no more steps. Then the yellowing wall seems to turn
into green wood and brass. I knock the sequence and stand out of the way of
maybe an immediate shot. The door swings open.
     “Hey- Frank? What the fuck?” Gerard looks completely startled. Mikey,
sitting on the couch behind him stands up quickly with an expression like he’s
just seen a ghost. I guess he believes he has.
     “I have a proposition. I am completely unarmed, you can check,” I say
quickly.
     “Wouldn’t you love that,” he says, the amusement on his face leaves as
quickly as it arrives. “What do you want?”
     “You’re supposed to be dead!” Mikey blurts, distressed. Gerard gestures me
in with a wary sigh.
     “He didn’t get killed by Venom. He in fact works for Venom,” Gerard
explains disturbingly casually.
     “Did. I quite frankly stopped working for Venom when they burned down
Ray’s,” I retort.
     “Then why the fuck did you try to kill me,” he seethes.
     “I didn’t! I could have very easily but I broke the fucking vile!” I
protest.
     Before Gerard can retaliate Mikey buts in, eyes narrowed, “You tried to
kill Gerard?”
     “No! I was supposed to but I couldn’t, so everyone kicked me out and I was
left on the streets, now are you gonna listen to what I have to say?” I growl,
defensive. Seeing Gerard is making me remember what I thought I saw on the
train. The face that has been frequenting my nightmares is now staring with a
new level of hurt.
     He furrows his brow and begins pacing. “Yea, fuck it, what do you want?”
     “To kill Stan, current leader of Venom.” Gerard stops pacing and raises
his eyebrows. Mikey looks confused and shocked. “Uh. He wants to kill me. But
he also wants to kill you, Gerard, and he will. He is very capable. I have no
weapons though so I thought you could give me a gun and I’d fucking save both
our skins.” I’m not even convincing myself.
     “How am I to know that if I give you a gun right now that you won’t shoot
us,” Gerard sighs.
     “I… I wouldn’t… you could just… I don’t fucking know, I pinkie promise?!”
I groan loudly.
     Gerard snorts, “Right.”
     “You could both point a gun at me until I leave?” I say desperately. “Aim
at me until I’m down the stairs, I don’t fucking know!”
     Gerard and Mikey exchange looks. “How do you even know this? If they
kicked you out.”
     “I had two actual friends in Venom. One you shot, Mikey. Either you or
Guy, but he was my only fucking friend in the world. Then there was Ronnie who
was my housemate and gang brother but I never thought we were close, but like
me he lost his only friend, Ryan, and he says he doesn’t want to lose his last
friend.” Gerard looks hurt. Hurt for me or hurt that I never counted him as a
friend. Or maybe just hurt that his brother shot my friend. Whatever it is, it
softens me. “He’s been sending me notes. I have one real shot, tomorrow. I need
to find a weapon by them or I’m off to Canada to live my life as a moose. You
guys are a little more tied down here.”
     “How can I fucking believe you?” Gerard groans.
     I shake my head, “you can’t I guess. Enjoy the paranoia I’ve been living
with since I was fourteen,” I spit and make a turn for the door. It was a
stupid idea to come here anyway. The flat smells homely though. And the creaky
parts of the floor ring a sentimental tune. Why are you fucking getting mushy
over this asshole’s floorI snap at myself.
     I’m nearly at the door when Gerard sighs dramatically, “Fuck it, wait.” I
turn around and see Mikey disappear into Gerard’s room. “I swear to God Frank,
you kill me and I’ll haunt your ass into eternity.” He runs his hands through
his hair. He must have dyed it since I was kicked out but his roots are making
a comeback already. He looks at me softly and murmurs, “How’s the nightmares?”
     “They follow me around day time too,” I say, taken aback. “You’re a
feature of them all the time now too,” I find myself saying, for some reason.
     He bites his lip, pained. “I’m sorry,” I says softly. Then his face
hardens again, “I hope you know I dream about the situation, in reverse.”
     Before I can ask him what the fuck that’s supposed to mean Mikey returns
with three guns. He hands one to Gerard, who loads it and cocks it to face me.
His hands shake violently and his face is pale. Mikey then hands me one and
loads his own. I shove mine in the back of my pants and pull down my jacket.
     “Want me to let you know how it goes?” I ask opening the door.
     Gerard shakes his head, “We’ll find out pretty quickly.” They watch me,
guns on my back until I turn the corners and descend into the orange-lit
street.
Chapter End Notes
     Okay I've decided which way i want to end this XD
     This is not the original way guys, if you knew what it was you'd
     probably thank me XD
     Thanks for reading and le final chapter will be up as soon as it's
     written.
     (PERSONAL RANT I have to open a bank tomorrow in school /.\ i'm the
     assistant manager for some reason but the people bellow me have
     literally taken over and not told me anything other than to do my
     hair nicely tomorrow because my photo will be in the local newspaper.
     Like what?? Tomorrow is an own clothes day and i'd just decided what
     bandshirt to wear and now i have to wear my uniform uggggghhhh. RANT
     OVER)
***** Give me all your hopeless hearts and make me ill *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Today is going to be horrible. SO fucking horrible. I have a half day of work
so at three, when I’m finished, I walk into Jersey and hide out the back of my
first home. There’s an old green, rusting swing set there that I wasn’t aloud
play on as a child. There was always disturbed people on drugs just sitting
there, staring into empty space. I guess this is why I feel so comfortable
here.
     I sit and stare blankly at the grey walls of my old building. Yesterday
Ray expressed his concern for me again and I brushed him off saying, “My life’s
been in danger since I was fourteen. If I die tomorrow, don’t worry about me or
I’ll fucking haunt you.” He backed off but looked concerned constantly. I feel
the gun in my belt. I think I should thank Ray again, he did pretty much save
me.
     A cold breeze stings my cheek and I look up to see three kids staring at
me.
     “Shouldn’t you be in school?” I say.
     “School’s over two hour’s man,” the oldest looking one says. A guy in a
snap back cap and oversized jacket.
     “Oh yea.”
     “Are you okay, sir? My mom says that sad people sit on them swings,” a
little girl asks wide eyed.
     “Yea, I’m good.” I stand up and feel the cool gun rub off my skin. “I
guess I’ll leave if I don’t suit here,” I smile meekly and begin to tread off
toward the street. I can feel the kids staring at me as I leave. I wonder I any
of them will ever get out of here. I thought when I was younger that I could
make a band or something and get big and important in the world. I guess nobody
really makes it. I guess nobody really leaves.
     Its quarter past six when I stand at the mouth of the alley way that
Ronnie brought me and Ryan down years ago. I feel the eeriness associated with
dank alleyways and darkening skies. I feel comfortable with my gun to hand and
my years of memories of being randomly attacked in alleys. Still, the thought
of what I’m about to do.
     I walk slowly through the alleys and finally reach the back entrance to
the building. It’s a quarter to seven and the fucking fire escape ladder is
lowered for me.
     This could be a set up.
     This could so easily be a set up. I sit down on the wet ground under the
ladder as it begins to rain. I think I feel a shard of glass piercing my jeans
but if that is the only injury I leave with today I’ll be overjoyed.
     Ten minutes pass before I decide to scale the ladder.
     This is a slow process. I remember exactly where all the squeaks, creeks
and weak bars are. I look in through a crack in the curtains. Ronnie is talking
harshly to Stan. He spots me and nods slightly. After another few harsh
gestures he picks up a gun and storms out the door. The window shakes as he
slams the door. Stan rubs his face and goes into the bathroom.
     I take this as my chance and slip in the window quietly and load my gun.
My heart is beating so fast and so loud I’m afraid it will alert Stan.
     When he returns from the bathroom with his fly down and his hand down his
pants I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more horrified and confused expression.
     I point the gun at his chest and his hand slides out of his trousers and
into the air, “Frank?”
     “Well observed,” I growl. Kill him.
     “You’re going to kill me Frankie?” he says in an amused tone, thiugh the
wobble in his voice says otherwise.
      I nod. “Then do it,” he says darlingly.
      I pull the trigger and before I can think I fire. He falls down but the
blood is seeping from his shoulder, not chest.
     “Fuck it!” I cry and cock the gun again, walking over quickly to Stan who
is wincing and cursing as he bleeds. With one arm he pushes himself upward.
     “You fucking cunt! You’re killing me? For what! I didn’t kill your little
friend. It was the people you refused to kill that did. Why didn’t you get
revenge you little cock-sucking faggot?! Why didn’t you kill them for Ryan? Is
it because you were sucking his cock? And liking it this time? I should be the
one shooting you, you fucking faggot,” I stare down at him unfazed. He’s only
helping me to not feel bad about pulling the trigger.
     I press my foot into his shoulder and he cries out in pain. When I release
again he stares up through tear stained eyes, “you’re into torture Iero, you
disgusting animal.”
     “We shouldn’t pick and choose our laws,” I whisper and point my gun at his
head.
      The door flies open and I’m forced to turn around, gun poised. I feel
Stan attempt to stand and I push him back with a foot to the bullet wound. His
cries almost drown out Jay’s gasp of horror, “Frank?”
      “Hi Jay,” I say. His gun rises and levels with my chest. Well I got to
cause a lot of pain to a man i hate. Maybe if he shoots me the right way I’ll
land on Stan’s bullet wound. That would be a good death.
     Only Jay doesn’t fire. He just holds the gun pointed to my head and starts
forward, “Jay?! Jay shoot him!” Stan pleads from the floor. Jay just continues
forwards. “Jay!”
     My heart is beating rapidly. Jay reaches me and puts his gun to my head. I
swallow. “I like you a lot,” Jay says in a shaky voice, “you were always nicer
to me than everyone else.” He sighs. I think that now would be the optimum time
to pray if I was religious. “Fucking shoot him before I shoot you,” Jay cries.
     Stan makes a noise of protest, silenced only by the clap of the gun.
 
If you’ve never seen someone with a bullet wound in the head you are both
missing out and so fucking lucky. I’ve seen a lot of bullet wounds. Fatal ones
like Ryan’s and the boss’s, then there’s ones like Jay’s. It’s like a black
hole in someone, but one to the brain is special. It’s a circle into someone’s
mind. Just behind that gruesome ring is the chemicals that react just so to
make you different. Literally the person’s entire personality was contained
possibly in the place where that bullet now is. It’s just weird to see.
     Jay and I sit on the couch afterwards. I’m not a good guy but now I think
I must be a bad guy, I just fucking killed someone. Jay texted “Boss is dead”
and people have been returning in drips and drabs since them. Some of them are
pissed off, some are happy. No one shows any sign of grief.
     When everyone arrives the room is so crowded and noisy and I can’t see a
thing. I find Ronnie and he pulls us over to the kitchen counter on which we
both kneel. “Alright,” Ronnie says. People continue muttering. “Pay attention
assholes I’m not up here for a fucking striptease.”
     Everyone shuts up and stares at us. Some smirk at Ronnie’s remark. “I
didn’t invite Frank to kill Stan so that we could descend into anarchy,” blank
faces stare up. Ronnie forgets sometimes that they speak New Jersey, not
dictionary grade English. He sighs, “I mean, Stan was going mad, you all
fucking saw it and I knew that none of us could kill him, the no weapons thing.
And when he threatened to kill my friend here,” he pats my shoulder, “my last
fucking friend, you bag of assholes, I thought it was time to end it. Now I
believe we need a new leader.”
     Before Ronnie could say another word Jay speaks up, “Frank.”
     Ronnie shuts his mouth and everyone goes dead silent, staring at me. I
don’t know what to say so I wait for someone else to speak. “Yea okay. Frank.”
     “Yea, Frank.”
     “Frank.”
     “I’d prefer Frank to the rest of you,” someone grumbles.
     After a few minutes of silence Ronnie speaks up, “well I was going to say
have a vote but I guess we did. So… Frank, will you be the leader?”
     “What the fuck,” I say incredulously, “I wasn’t here for months, I was
kicked out and you want me to be the fucking boss!?”
     “Yea pretty much,” Jay shrugs.
 
The first thing I do as “boss” is buy a new flat. Well the first thing I did
was tell Ray I’m alive. Then I throw up. Then I tell Ray that I won’t be home.
     Then, I buy a new apartment. You couldn’t pay me to stay another hour in
the apartment that haunts me. No one questions me on this. People usually would
be unhappy with me randomly buying a flat but this was different.
     I run Venom normally for about three days. Or well as “normal” as I could,
taking care of all the finances.
     “And how much did that cost us?” I demand. Chubs and Jay had got into a
knife fight and the car got wrecked.
     Chubs shrugs, “I can get it fixed for five thousand. Or close.”
     I sigh and rub my eyes. “We can’t afford this until we get into New York,”
I say matter-of-factly.
     Chubs nods but my phone answers for me. “One sec,” I say answering,
“Hello.”
     “Hi Frank,” the voice sends shivers down my spine. “I heard you survived.”
     “Hi Gerard,” I choke out, “I did. I guess you’ll want me dead next.”
     “Ah so you’re the boss now. I have a proposition.”
     “I’m listening.”
     “Can I come over?”
     “Uh okay.”
     “Good, open the front door.”
     Ronnie who was sitting on the couch raises his eyebrows at me as I walk
toward my door. Chubs walks over to sit beside him, shrugging.
     “Hey,” Gerard says when I open the door. Mikey and Guy pile in after him.
     “Fuck…” I scratch the back of my neck. I forgot this is how Gerard works.
“Come on in guys. This is Ronnie and Chubs. Ronnie and Chubs, this is Gerard,
leader of MG. His brother Mikey and… Guy.” Ronnie is standing and reaching for
his gun. Chubs is sitting but his hands are at his belt, probably at his
weapons. “Relax. They won’t shoot and if they try we have friends in this
building.” I smile. “What do you want?”
     Gerard walks over and takes a seat at the kitchen table. After he’s made
himself comfortable he begins talking. “Frank, want to be my partner.”
     “What?” I scoff.
     “Want to be my partner, I said. Do you want to join our gangs?”
     I sit down in a heap. Can no one do anything as expected anymore? Is it
the cool new thing to just do the last thing anyone would ever expect of you?
It’s fucking driving me insane, in the way that my mind has been so busy trying
to anticipate it all that I haven’t had time to be stalked by my own
nightmares.
     I scratch the back of my neck. “Gerard…”
     “Our combined force could really make us the biggest gang in New York too.
Just think about it.”
     “How the fuck can we trust you?” Ronnie growls, “and how the fuck did you
find us.”
     “Oh easy. Ray told me. We trusted Frank. Frank can also tell you what
trust means to me,” he shoots me a sideways glance. I feel my heart beating
stupidly loud again.
     “What if we don’t want to?” Ronnie challenges.
     “Ronnie. Gerard, I will consider this.” I say. My mind is so full of
different thoughts.
     “To seal the deal we could live together,” Gerard says to me. “The leaders
of a gang always do.”
      I shake my head and start pacing. A habit I got off Gerard. “You can’t
just do this.”
      “Why can’t I?” Gerard is smiling.
      I make a distressed noise in the back of my throat and Gerard gets up.
“I’ll be looking for an answer either way just remember I won’t be able to kill
you anyway.” And with that the MG party leave. When I deem them well out of
earshot I throw myself to the floor and shout into the floorboards. Fuck the
neighbours they can endure my exasperation.
     After a while of lying on the ground Ronnie crouches down beside me.
“You’re going to do it aren’t you?”
     I sigh into the dusty floor, “Of course I am.”
Chapter End Notes
     Yo, sorry if this ending is shite!
     XD sorry. Just the other ending was so sad and i wasn't in the mood
     for something heartbreaking.
     Thank you for reading and please leave some feedback :) I have ideas
     for another three fics now which i can't wait to start. If you for
     some reason liked this then you may want to check out my other fics
     XD thanks again sooo much :))
End Notes
     Okay I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable or grossed out or
     anything, I was not lying when I clicked the archive warnings
     There's nothing really fluffy or cute about this one...
     Yet...
     I wanted to try my hand at writing something much darker. I had this
     idea only it's hard to write as a character younger than me, even if
     only by little bit. That's why it may have a weird feel to it but the
     characters will be older next chapter.
     I'll put up maybe two more, at least, see if the interest is there
     and if so I shall continue :)
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