Fic: The Science of Sleep - Part Eight

[chimneythunder]

“You know what I miss?” Mikey says loudly as they enter the diner. “CD players. Or iPods. Or tapes. Or anything that involves blocking sound out.”

Gerard and Frank laugh. They sit down in one of the booths and Ray brings over some tins of chow with some candles lit to replace the dying light outside, and then the four of them sit down for dinner. Ray and Gerard keep cracking jokes and even Mikey manages to stay vaguely friendly towards Frank, miracle beyond all miracles. The food’s disgusting but tonight, it seems bearable in the laughter and candlelight and with Gerard pressed next to his side.

He could see this being his future. He could see this being some weird domestic bubble, him and Gerard, still together after the world ends. Frank’s so wrapped up in the bubble that he doesn’t register what the low rumbling is outside until Gerard suddenly drops his fork, looking up in alarm.

“What- what’s that?” Frank asks.

It’s like someone flipped a switch. Immediately, everyone – including Frank - is on their feet, guns drawn.

“That better not be what I think it is,” Mikey says.

“Are we expecting company?!” Frank asks, grabbing one of the homemade hand grenades off the table.

“Quick, car!!” Gerard yells as the unmistakable sound of car engines gets louder.

“But the stuff – ” Ray starts.

“Leave it!” Frank says, grabbing his arm and running after Gerard and Mikey.

The doors to the diner suddenly blast open and, sending a kick of icy cold horror to Frank’s stomach, Draculoids come running in, the white suits and monster masks suddenly so genuinely terrifying. Frank crashes solidly into Mikey.

“BACK!!” Gerard hollers.

Frank doesn’t stop to think. He’s already got his gun out and there’s gunfire on all sides – he points his white blaster in the right direction and starts firing. His shoulder bashes into Ray’s, Gerard on his other side next to Mikey. There’s Draculoids everywhere, firing as the four outlaws move as one towards the kitchen.

“Frankie, bomb!!” Gerard yells over the sound of gunfire.

The grenade is still clutched in Frank’s fingers so tightly he’d forgotten he had it. He pulls the pin and throws it as hard as he can. The gunfire ceases as the Dracs immediately start running for the door and the Killjoys take the moment to run out the opposite back door of the kitchen, just as the bomb goes off with a tremendous explosion that completely obliterates everything inside.

The desert sun is high in the blue sky, offering no shadows and exposing them completely as more Draculoids come running around the side of the building. The Killjoys are all running for the car when Ray suddenly stops –

“Ray!!” Frank yells.

“Run!!” he shouts, spinning around to face the Dracs, his gun raised.

“NO!” Frank’s about to run back for him when someone seizes him by the back of his neck – Mikey!?

“Keep running, fucker!!”

Frank stumbles, his feet slipping through the desert dust as raygun blasts whizz past his head. The three of them run around the corner of the diner and come face to face with a wall of Draculoids between them and the Trans Am, guns aimed, loaded and ready to fire. From the sounds behind them, Frank already knows it’s hopeless but he raises his gun anyway and starts firing as Gerard and Mikey do the same thing.

We can’t win. We can’t win this.

He’s got his back up against Gerard and Mikey as the three of them fire – Frank’s now seeing the Draculoids his shots hit, he’s seeing the bodies hit the ground –

And then he gets blasted in the chest.

He goes down instantly.

For what feels like eternity, he lies in the dust. His breath keeps catching painfully in his chest and everything hurts, he’s not sure if he’s choking on dust or if he’s dying. He can’t move, he can’t speak... all he can do is listen to the sounds of raygun blasters and screams and stare up at the brilliantly blue sky through clouds of desert sand....

There’s deathly silence.

A Drac’s grinning face slides into his vision.

“Stunners smart, don’t they?” it says, its voice muffled by the mask. “Don’t worry, you’re not dying – yet.”

Frank gasps, trying to move but he can’t even close his own mouth. He hiccups, pain shooting through his body with every desperate breath, starting at his chest and blossoming right down to his fingers and toes.

And then, a horribly familiar voice is speaking.

“Frank Iero, you’re under arrest for several acts of terrorism, not limited to but including passing on classified information to other known terrorists and assisting in the escape of wanted criminals. Anything you do or say now can and will be used against you as you have no rights.”

Deliberately slowly, Korse walks around Frank, staring down at him. The sun behind him throws his features into shadow but Frank can see the sadistic grin.

“Fuck – you,” Frank snarls through gritted teeth. Saliva rolls out his mouth and down the side of his face, mingling with the dirt.

Korse’s head tilts to the side slightly.

“Tut tut, Iero,” he says.

And then slams his foot down on Frank’s chest.

Frank can’t even scream. The air is gone and replaced with pain so intense it almost doesn’t register. He’s not even given time to recover before a Draculoid is grabbing his ankles and starts dragging him through the dirt across the ground... and Frank can’t even do anything about it. His entire body is limp, useless. His hands drag behind him, leaving trails in the dirt and his t-shirt rucks up his back, the soft skin scraping against the rough ground, and his head lolls useless to one side...

Against the wall of the diner, a figure with cherry-bomb red hair is slumped on the floor, their bright yellow gun a few feet away and further back, a skinny guy in a red leather jacket sprawled out.

“Oops, almost forgot –“

The Drac drops Frank’s feet unceremoniously to the ground. Another one crouches down next to Frank, presses something to his neck. The needle pierces the skin and the effect is instantaneous.

Frank shoots bolt upright, screaming. His hand automatically slaps to his neck as he looks back desperately for Gerard and it takes him a second to realise he’s back in his kitchen, his own kitchen, back in 2011, lying on the floor, surrounded by all his notes and an empty bottle of whiskey.

He scrambles to his feet, stumbling and crashing painfully into the fridge.

“He can’t be dead, he’s NOT dead!!” he yells. “That’s not fucking fair!!!”

He pulls himself back up, clutching the edge of the kitchen counter. His body feels heavy, clumsy, he can’t get it to work properly.

“I – I have to do something!!” He collapses back to his knees and starts shifting through the papers, desperately trying to find some kind of clue – any kind of clue – something, anything!

“I know I promised I wouldn’t but you can’t expect me to just sit here and wait for the answer to show up!!”

He grabs handfuls of his notes off the floor. For what could be hours, he’s desperately sorting though. Random words leap off the page at him – DRACULOIDS.WHITE DREAM. KORSE. DEAD SCENE. PARTY POISON – but nothing makes sense, he can’t focus enough to even read. He throws them to one side, scattering the papers even more.

“What am I supposed to do!?” he wails. “Help me here, Party Poison!! What do I fucking do?!”

And then, as if right on cue, his phone rings.

Wide eyes staring, he sees the name flash across the screen.

Bob.

“Hello?” Frank’s voice is shaking. Heck, his entire body is shaking.

“Yo dude, sorry for not replying yesterday,” Bob says. “Been throwing up like mad for the last week, hasn’t been a pretty sight.”

“Oh,” Frank says. He doesn’t know if he can say any more, not without bursting into tears. What the fuck can he do here?! Gerard might be dead for all he knows...

“Yeah, but I’m all better now. Be back next week. So, I’m assuming I didn’t miss anything exciting this week at work?”

Frank takes a deep breath, blinking furiously as he rubs his forehead. “No, no you didn’t miss anything –”

“Are you OK? You sound upset.”

“No, I’m –” Frank chokes. He can’t say the word ‘fine.’

And then he actually does choke as strong fingers wrap around his throat and slam him against the wall.

“Wake up!” snarls a voice.

He blinks and Korse’s face is directly in front of him. Frank grabs uselessly at the hands around his throat, his strength rapidly fading –

Korse lets him drop to the ground. From the floor, he can see he’s in what looks like a police interrogation room. Everything is white and clinically cold – just from where Frank’s lying, he leaves scuff marks on the spotless floor. Two Dracs stand in the background behind Korse.

Frank stares at Korse’s boots, gasping for air.

“Where’s – Party Poison?!” he manages to choke out.

Korse says nothing. Instead, he turns around with a noise of disgust and leaves the room.

The two Draculoids gleefully step forward.

After the first few kicks and stomps, Frank’s not even sure if he’s screaming anymore or just trying not to drown in his own lungs. The walls and floors are covered with colourful splatters of bright red. When he sees the boot come towards his head, he closes his eyes –

And then he’s lying back on the kitchen floor.

“Frank?! Frank, are you still there?”

Bob’s voice is coming out tinny speakers somewhere to Frank’s side. Numbly, he gropes around for his phone, his fingers slipping on the lino and then closing around the plastic. He doesn’t have the strength to lift it to his ear. He pulls the phone towards his mouth.

His face feels hot and damp. He’s not sure if it’s sweat or tears.

“Bob,” he says, sniffing. “I need help. Please – I can’t do this anymore – please - come over.”


~*~*~


It takes a long time to convince Bob he’s not suicidal. It turns out that sobbing down the phone about how you can take things anymore tends to give off a certain impression that’s rather hard to dispel, particularly when ‘you’ve been acting a bit off for the past few weeks,’ as Bob puts it.

Frank tells him everything instead.

“I’m not making this up!!”

“I believe you believe it’s real,” Bob says, checking the strength of all the light-fixtures in Frank’s flat.

“Humour me,” Frank says darkly. “Pretend I’m not crazy.”

Bob’s eyebrow goes up. “OK,” he says slowly.

“How would you help me?”

Bob shrugs. “Is there anything I can do? If it’s all in the future then there’s nothing we can do here and now.”

Frank’s about to reply to this excellent display of logic that he totally didn’t already think of when pain stabs through his head and he ends up curling up on the sofa, clutching his head and moaning.

“Are you hungover?” Bob asks, eyeing the empty whisky bottle.

“No!” He peers up through the gap in his arms; Bob’s still standing, staring at him, his expression unreadable. “I’m – whatever they’re doing to me there, it’s hurting here!!”

“But it’s just your head,” Bob clarifies.

“Yeah, it’s to do with how the entire travel is a mental thing, not a physical thing.”

“And that’s –”

A wash of pain floods through him and he screws up his eyes. When he opens them, he’s lying on the floor of the interrogation chamber. Korse is kneeling in front of him.

“Where are you going?” Korse asks quietly, tilting his head to one side. He reaches out; his fingers lightly brush through Frank’s hair and Frank closes his eyes at the touch, breathing in deeply through his nose. He doesn’t want to be lying on the floor, curled up like a baby, he wants to be standing or at least on eyelevel. Not this ridiculous, weak, submissive pose.

“Hmm?” Korse asks.

His fingers suddenly twist in Frank’s hair, yanking him up off the ground. Frank cries out, his entire body protesting and screaming against the pain.

“You already know!” he yells.

He crumples on the ground as Korse abruptly lets him go.

“2011,” Korse says.

Frank nods, his face rubbing against the floor in something wet. He can smell blood.

“And?”

He honestly doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

Korse leans in with that terrifying smile that never reaches his eyes. There are spots of blood lightly splattered across his cheek.

“Tell me... How’s Gerard?”

“Wha – fuck you!” Frank snarls.

Korse laughs and leans back. His laughter is cold and makes the hairs on the back of Frank’s neck stick up.

“You still think it was chance you were picked for this?” Korse asks. He’s amused. “I really thought you would have figured this out now. Did you honestly think it was chance that you – of all people – ended up in Scarecrow? We’ve always had this planned for you –”

Frank closes his eyes and when he next opens them, he’s back on the sofa.

“I’m gonna be sick,” he says.

“Bucket?” Bob asks.

“Kitchen.”

Bob disappears and returns a few seconds later with the bucket. Slowly, Frank pushes himself up in a sitting position, clutching the bucket to his chest. He takes deep breaths, willing himself not to throw up.

“It’s all about Gee,” he says, voicing the thoughts as they come to him. “It’s something to do with him... It wasn’t chance that it was me here in this point in time. They wanted me to do something to him –”

“Who? Those BLI guys?” Bob asks. He crouches down in front of Frank, staring at him intently.

“Yeah.” Frank nods weakly. “But – it doesn’t make sense. I don’t get what I could have done. I mean, they must have known I’d never try to hurt him –”

Oh.

“You were going to save him,” Bob says. “And by stopping him from losing his memories –“

“He wouldn’t start up the second rebellion,” Frank finishes. “The one that’s doing a lot more damage.”

It’s so manipulative and so...

“You’ve got to hand it to them, it’s pretty brilliant,” Bob says. “Take the boyfriend of the most dangerous criminals and have him –”

“Yes, I get it!” Frank snaps.

I think you’ve had to sit back and let a lot of horrible things happen because you knew things would resolve eventually...

“OK,” Frank says as his head gives another painful stab. “OK. So what do I do now??”

He looks back down at the bucket and then back up to Bob, who’s frowning thoughtfully.

“Hey wait,” he says, as if it’s just occurring to him. “OK, let’s say the 2019 you went into the machine knowing full well what BLI was planning. He knows they think he’s an idiot who’s going to try and save Gerard in the past, so he plays up to it. He let’s them think that. So... what if it wasn’t a mistake that you ended up there? What if he orchestrated the whole thing?”

“I’m not that smart,” Frank says.

“You’ve had a few years, you probably wised up a bit. So, say you do set the whole thing up – you’d want to leave a message for yourself. Where would you leave it?”

Frank idly scratches the back of his wrist, looking at the patterns inked on his skin.

“I have no idea.” His head gives another painful throb. He’s far too alert to go back to sleep. “I need to stay awake there... I keep passing out and coming back here.”

“I am not helping you overdose!” Bob glares.

“I’m not trying to die!! I just need to be unconscious! If the portal’s closed here, I have to stay there.”

“... That’s suicide.”

“For the last time Bob, I’m not suicidal!!”

“No, I mean, it’s a stupid idea – what if you die there while you’re dosed up here? You won’t be able to get back.”

Frank gulps. He hadn’t thought of that.

“I – I can’t. It’s already happened.”

He wishes he could believe it.

He goes into the kitchen and raids the first-aid kid, finding the pot of pills he needs. Bob snatches it off him before he can get the lid off.

“Hey!” Frank says.

“You’re absolutely certain about this?” Hesitantly, Bob holds out the pill pot.

“No.” He grabs the pot and quickly shakes out two. “But – I have to go. I can’t leave him.”

Without another word, he claps his hand to his mouth and swallows. The effect is abnormally instant, which probably has more to do with Korse trying to wake him up on the other side –

“Iero!!”

Frank comes back into 2019 just as he’s being slammed into a wall by one of the Draculoids, which is just fucking typical. He couldn’t have timed it just two seconds later, could he?

“Ahh, you bitch,” he groans and spits out a mouthful of blood – and then, to his horror, feels one of his teeth come out too. Everything hurts but he’s more awake than he’s ever been and acutely aware of everything around him, of how bright the room is, of how the pretty patterns his blood makes against the white floor, of –

“What’s that noise?” he asks. “It sounds like an alarm.”

The Drac punches him in the face.

“Hey, question,” Frank burbles. The pills are doing their job – he’s stuck here, fully conscious. “How are you supposed to get any concise answers out of me if I’m severely concussed?”

It’s got to be head trauma talking, he’s sure of it. He’s beyond pain, beyond fear, beyond any of it...

“Smart mouth, Iero,” the Draculoid growls. “You sound just like your pretty boyfriend. You should see what we did to him.”

It’s a bluff. Frank knows it. But that also means... Gerard survived the shoot-out.

He looks around to see if Korse is betraying any expression and then realises he’s not even in the room anymore.

“You know, you’re not supposed to kill the prisoner,” Frank points out. “Just feel that needs reiterating...”

He gets another punch to the head. Spots explode behind his eyelids.

“So... really,” he says, lifting his head back up. “I’m not impressed boys. Nul points for originality.”

“You’re awfully chatty all of a sudden,” the Drac snarls, his fist raised dangerously.

“Hey hey, wait!” Frank yells. “I used to be like you -”

“You were never one of us!” The other Draculoid actually sounds offended. “”You’re a Zone Rat through and through.”

“Aw thanks, but that’s not what I meant. No, I meant I used to be like you in how I was always asking the wrong questions.”

The Drac holding him by the throat snorts. “‘The wrong questions’? What the hell does that mean? We don’t ask questions –”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean, and that’s where you’ve gone horribly wrong. Coz you shouldn’t be asking what I’m going on about... you should really be asking what that alarm going off means.”

The two Draculoids look at each other – it’s amazing to see how much panic is conveyed though body language alone – and, as if right on cue, the to the interrogation room is kicked open. Frank’s unceremoniously dropped to the ground as the Dracs go for their guns but the three masked Zone Runners who burst in are quicker. Four raygun blasts and the Dracs are then lying on the ground, not moving.

The biggest Zone Runner immediately heads to Frank helps him up; he pulls up his blue mask, revealing his face.

“Briar Rabbit, at your service,” Bob grins.

“Dude!” Frank throws his arms around him gratefully. “Your timing –”

Back in 2011, after Frank had explained everything up to his point of capture, Bob had simply frowned and asked “This is all set in some future world, right?”

Frank shook his head.

“It’s the future. It’s going to happen, I can’t change that.”

Bob nodded. “So where am I in all this?”

“I don’t know, probably somewhere in the ci-” He froze.

No.

WAIT.

“You’re in the zones!!” he said excitedly. “Gerard said so! He said you’re out in Zone 3 and that you keep yourself to yourself!”

Bob grinned and grabbed a pen and piece of paper from the table. “Sounds about right. OK, so what’s the date where you are now?”

“It’s today, just 2019.”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, scribbling it down. “And you’re in an interrogation cell in BLI?”

“Yeah but I don’t know which one –”

“This Korse guy’s in there with you? With 2 Draculoids?”

“Yeah but –”

“Great.” He dotted the paper and looked up at Frank. “I’ll come get you.”

“You’ll need help. And I don’t even know where Gerard is –”

“Leave it to me.”

There was something incredibly reassuring in the way he said it.

“No promises, obviously. If I get shot –”

“Dusted,” Frank automatically corrected.

Bob laughed. “8 years to see if you’re a raving lunatic or not.”

And now, in 2019, Frank can’t keep the massive grin off his face.

“Your timing dude,” he beams.

“Yeah well, sorry we’re a bit late – someone failed to mention the integration rooms were on the 18th floor!” says one of the masked guys with a pointed look at Bob.

“This is my crew,” Bob explains quickly, gesturing to the two other guys in the room who are currently stealing the dead Drac’s guns. In the corridor, Frank can see two more standing guard with their guns out. One of them is abnormally short, maybe an inch or two taller than Frank.

Before Frank can say anything else though, Bob’s picked him up and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

“Hey! Ow!!” Frank protests.

“Sorry, but you’re injured. If you’re running, you’ll only slow us down,” the short guy says, sounding far too cheerful. Frank stares at the long, dark tangled mess of hair sticking out the top of the guy’s head, trying to work out if it’s part of the dude’s mask or if’s actually his hair.

“Here, you can keep the back covered,” another of the guys says, handing Frank one of the guns.

“OK, we all ready?” Bob asks. “Operation suicide, part 2 – let’s go!”

They run back out into the corridor to the sound of gunfire.


~*~*~


Frank’s not sure how the fuck they get out of BLI in one piece. Somehow, amidst the raygun blasts and Draculoids everywhere, they manage to get out the front entrance, earning several incredibly surprised looks from the hapless BLI workers they pass on the way out. It probably helps that Bob’s crew are amazing shooters and apparently also clinically insane, running down the corridors with delighted laughter and no regard for safety.

A battered-looking van with a blond woman driving pulls up to the curb as they run out the door (or in Frank’s case – carried out). The side door slides open to reveal Show Pony on the inside, firing a pink blaster at the Dracs chasing, and then Frank’s being thrown into the back of the van and people are clambering on top of him, and the van takes off at top speed.

“Scarecrow Frank!!” Show Pony says delightedly, flipping up his visor and holding out his hand. “You’re alive!”

Frank grins and grips Show Pony’s firm hand as he pulls himself up into a sitting position against the rocking van wall.

“Just about,” he says.

“Hey Frank, proper introductions,” Bob says. “This is Shop Soiled, Rainbow Puke, Bird Worm, and Pineapple Lies, and behind the wheel is DJ Hot Chimp.” He nods to each of Frank’s rescuers as he says their names.

“Nice to finally meet you, dude,” Shop Soiled, the short guy with the hair says. “Briar Rabbit’s been planning this escape for as long as I’ve known him.”

Frank nods. “Have you found the other guys yet?”

“Yeah – well, we know where they are in BLI,” Bob says, quickly adding “Don’t worry, they’re fine,” when Frank opens his mouth to protest. “Before you go running in as the hero, there’s something you need to see first.”

“What?!” Frank asks, completely lost. The entire van swerves as it turns a sharp corner.

“It’s back at your apartment,” Bob explains.


~*~*~*


“Wouldn’t they have cleared it out by this point?!” Frank asks as him, Bob and Rainbow Puke run up the stairs of his old apartment building. The rest of the crew and Show Pony wait outside in the van. “I mean, traitor to the city here – wouldn’t they have searched my apartment or something?”

Bob shakes his head as they reach Frank’s door. “Why? Everyone keeps their secrets in their heads now.” He pauses, then kicks the front door open.

“You know, there’s probably a spare key under the matt or something,” Frank points out.

Bob ignores him.

“Wait here,” he says to Rainbow Puke. “Give us a shout if you suspect trouble.”

Frank’s apartment is exactly as he left it; sterile and virtually empty.

“You said you’d left yourself a message,” Bob explains. “You never told me where though. You said you figured it out soon enough.”

“Wha- wait, the me from here said that to you?!”

Bob taps his nose but says nothing.

Frank looks at the walls, feeling useless.

“OK, so I’m me in 2019. I know that all this is about to happen and I need to leave some kind of message to me that won’t get discovered,” he mutters, looking around. He pulls a hand through his hair, absently trying to think... “A message only I would pick up on... something that could be hidden really easily – OH!!”

He suddenly yanks off the tattered remains of his t-shirt as he realises.

“What are you doing?!” Bob sounds alarmed.

“Tattoos!! I would have tattooed it!!”

He looks up his arms at the familiar designs, twisting around to see if there’s any new ones. He can’t believe he didn’t pick up on this sooner, it’s so obvious...

“There!” he yells excitedly as he spots it. On his upper right arm, just above his New Jersey anchor tattoo is one he hasn’t seen before. He grips the skin and looks closely at it; it’s a weird smiley face with a zig-zag mouth and one eye crossed out.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. He looks up at Bob, who’s very clearly trying not to grin. “That- that’s Fun Ghoul’s logo.”

It can’t be.

He can’t be –

Then again, anything’s fucking possible. Look who Party Poison turned out to be.

He’s heading for the safe in the bottom drawer before he consciously realises it.

“I don’t know the combination though!” he says, crouching down next to the drawer and pulling it open. The safe is still in there, nestled amongst the white wood.

Bob peers over his shoulder.

“Yes you do,” he says. “Think about it. The combination is something important to you.”

How the fuck do you already know all this?? He wants to ask, but instead stares at the combination pad. He never did find out what was in the safe and Party Poison – Gerard – never brought it up again.

Frank reaches out and punches in 0409 – Gerard’s birthday. The combination screen goes green, there’s a click and the door swings open.

The first thing Frank spots is the bright green ray gun, resting on top of a pile of carefully folded clothes. He pulls it out, looks at it – it’s the same model as Party Poison’s but the design’s completely different. On one side is a vampire sticker and on the other, the word ‘HORROR’ is stencilled in yellow font, with a white zig-zag running along the bottom side. On the grip is Fun Ghoul’s logo – the same one Frank’s got tattooed on his inner arm.

He puts the gun down on the ground and shifts through the clothes. Everything’s there, exactly as described in the PP Files; the army vest with the Japanese sun on the back (and the exact same sun that Frank’s had tattooed on his left elbow for years). The black jeans and shoulder holster. The black boots with the red stripes around the rims. The purple Frankenstein mask. Even his very own set of Bad Luck beads, which he quickly pulls on.

“OK, I get it,” he says.

Bob playfully nudges him. “Took you long enough. Now get dressed, we’ve got to go save some lives and get you home!”

“Wait, wait, I have to ask.” Frank holds off from pulling on the (his) Fun Ghoul outfit, despite how excited he is to try it on. “Why did you have to me back here and then back to BLI?! Surely you could have just told me ‘By the way dude, you’re Fun Ghoul’?!”

“Supplies,” Bob says simply. He’s carefully tapping parts of the floor with his foot when the floorboard squeaks. He looks at Frank with a triumphant grin on his face.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Frank says. “That’s way too obvious.”

“So obvious no one would think of looking for it.” Bob pulls a switchblade out his back pocket and rams it into the floor, prying the boards up. Frank peers into the impressively-sizable hole.

“Well, Fun Ghoul was an explosives expert. Where do you think he kept his stuff?!” Bob explains.

Frank’s not sure what’s more disturbing; the fact that he’s had enough dynamite under his living room floor to level the entire building or that the sheer recklessness of it all is just so fucking cool.


~*~*~


“So you’ve always known?” Frank asks Bob when they’re in the van and heading back to BLI.

“Known? Fuck dude, I was your main contact! Anyone wanted to talk to you, they had to go through me first,” Bob explains.

“Oooh, so is that the big top secret thing you’ve been doing that you couldn’t tell us about?” Pineapple Lies asks, looking interested. Bob nods.

“You couldn’t risk running into Mikey or Ray, or... well anyone really, who might have recognised you, even with a mask on. You were far too well known as a member of Scarecrow even though Fun Ghoul’s been active technically since the first wave of the rebellion got shut down.”

Frank gives the army-canvas bag on his shoulder a tug. It’s filled with explosives of varying types and strengths... and it weighs a fucking ton. He makes a mental note to not hold back in using them.

“You sure I wasn’t too busy being promoted and becoming part of the cooperate Scarecrow?” he asks, unable to keep the bitter tone out his voice.

Bob snorts. “Sure. And I just happened to meet Mikey Way just after his brother got arrested and he was looking for a way to get him out.”

“Let me guess,” Show Pony says. Under the helmet, Frank can see he’s grinning. “You mentioned that you knew a detonator who knew the layout of Better Living Industries and the city like the back of their own hand.”

“Bingo.”

Bob’s entire crew is looking at Frank with expressions mixed from amusement to amazement.

“Fucking hell Bob, where did you find this crazy motherfucker?!” Shop Soiled asks. From the way it’s said, ‘crazy motherfucker’ is blatantly a compliment.

“Heads up, we’re almost there,” DJ Hot Chimp suddenly yells from the front of the van. “Get ready to run, it’s gonna be ugly.”

“I doubt they’ll be expecting us to come straight back,” Frank points out. “Nobody would be that stupid. Where are the holding cells anyway?”

“Scarecrow territory. Don’t even think about trying to go out the window this time.” Bob shoots a glare at Shop Soiled, who shrugs innocently.

Frank pulls his green gun out its holster, briefly admiring the paintwork, and tugs down his mask as everyone else in the van does the same. For added measure, he hands out some of the grenades to everybody else.

“If all else fails, use them as a roadblock when you’re getting out,” Bob says gruffly, slapping Pineapple Lies upside the head when he tries to pull the pin out to use as an earring.

“Don’t throw them all at once though if you do that, if you’re being chased by a group, take out the one at the front in the middle,” Frank adds.

Show Pony laughs. “You’re a very interesting man, Fun Ghoul. Very... unexpected.”

Frank’s feeling daring and stupid. “Just got a knack for elimination,” he says with a wink at Pony. Pony looks delighted.

The van screeches to a halt.

“Alright,” Frank says, cocking his gun. “Death or victory.”

Show Pony pulls the door open.

Sure enough, as they’re running back into the main entrance, Frank realises he was right; no one was expecting them to come back today. Bird Worm shoots the nameless BLI worker who’s manning reception before she even has a chance to look up; Frank winces but there’s no time to deal with the morality issue here. He knew full well what he was signing himself up for.

However, what Frank does take issue with is -

“We’re taking the lifts?!” he asks incredulously. “What if they cut the cables or something?!”

“You want to run up 20 flights of steps, be my guest,” Bob says bluntly. “Right now, there’s no alarms going off, which generally means they don’t know we’re here.”

The lift pings and at that exact moment, an alarm goes off as several Draculoids come sprinting around the corner.

“IN!” Frank yells as the gunfire starts up. He throws a grenade out the doors as Pineapple Lies stabs the button furiously; the doors slide shut, muffling the explosion into a dull thud.

For a few seconds, the group stare up at the illuminated numbers in silence, with the only noise being the BLI-approved lift music.

“Wow,” Rainbow Puke says, sniffing. “And I thought elevator music from Before was bad.”

“Access denied,” suddenly comes a calm, female voice out the speakers. “Please provide necessary credentials.”

Bob’s already on it. He pulls out a BLI-ID card and swipes it.

“Access granted. Welcome to Scarecrow, Frank Iero,” says the voice.

Frank gives Bob a look. He’s not sure how much is visible under the mask he’s wearing but Bob seems to get the point.

“What?!” Bob asks. “I figured it would come in handy so I swiped the spare off your table when you were changing.”

The holding cells floor is deserted, which is worrying. For good measure, Frank sticks dynamite in all three lift shafts before running as fast as he can; the stairs might be a bitch but if there’s no one up here, there’s definitely going to be a welcoming committee on the ground. When he voices this, Bob nods.

“So don’t get cocky,” Bob growls at his crew.

They locate the holding cells easily enough; helpfully, they’re marked out with directions on the wall.

“It’s like they wanted us to find them,” Shop Soiled mutters.

“Of course they do,” Frank says. “Their trick isn’t keeping you out, it’s locking you in.”


~*~*~


Even without the helpful signs, they wouldn’t have had any problem finding them; Gerard heard the explosions and was already yelling his head off. By the time Frank and Bob’s crew get to the right corridor, Gerard’s screaming nonsensical songs at the top of his lungs.

“Gerard!!” Frank yells, breaking into a run, when Bob grabs him by the scruff of his neck.

“Cool it Scrappy, he’s not alone!” Bob hisses, flattening against the wall.

“Hey motherfucker, pay attention to me!!” they hear Gerard yell. “Your mom pumped me off last week, she’s nifty once you get around the dust mouth!”

“Why you little -!! Get out here and say that to my face!!” comes an unfamiliar voice.

Frank grins as he hears Ray’s voice.

“That’s what your mom said last night!”

Frank peers around the corner. There’s a wall of glass-fronted cells with two Draculoids standing guard; Frank can see Ray and Mikey in individual cells, pressed up against the glass and yelling. The cell at the far side is open and then, much to Frank’s horror, he sees a third Draculoid dragging Gerard out of it by his red hair, with Gerard screaming and kicking the whole way.

Frank doesn’t even think. He steps around the corner, gun raised and intentionally set from stun to kill.

The Draculoids don’t even have a chance to reach for their own guns. He doesn’t give them a fair chance. When they’re ghosted, he runs over to where Gerard’s lying on the floor while Bob sets to the key pad that controls Mikey and Ray’s cell doors.

“Oh my God, are you OK?!” Frank cries, checking him over. Gerard’s still wearing his full Party Poison outfit, leather jacket and all (although, obviously, his yellow gun is gone). For some reason, Gerard’s staring at Frank with wide eyes.

“Did they hurt you?” Frank asks, checking Gerard’s face gently but there’s no sign of abuse anywhere. Huh. Guess Scarecrow really only were interested in him...

“You’re –” Gerard says, staring at Frank in complete awe.

“Yo, Fun Ghoul – can’t get the code,” Bob calls. “Got any C4?”

It takes less than a minute to set up some explosives alongside the glass. Mikey and Ray thankfully have the sense to set up a barricade behind the upturned cots in their cells which come in incredibly useful when Frank hits the detonator and sends glass shards flying everywhere.

“You alright?” Frank calls out. Gerard’s gripping his arm tightly.

Ray and Mikey cautiously step out the remains of their cells. Like Gerard, they both stare at Frank like he’s the second coming of Jesus or something.

“Fun Ghoul?!” Mikey gaps, all usual stoicism abandoned. “But you’re dead!! You’re –”

Oh, right. Mask.

Frank pulls off his mask and grins at Mikey. There’s a noticeable gasp from Gerard.

“ – fucking kidding me.”

Frank gives him his best shit-eating grin. “Nope.”

Ray laughs triumphantly and punches Frank on the arm. “I knew it!! Frankenstein, you fucker!!”

“Always?!” Mikey asks.

“Always. I told you - I never would have betrayed Gerard like that.”

Gerard’s fingers around Frank’s arm twitch.

“Frank... you’re Fun Ghoul?” he asks faintly.

“I hate to interrupt the love-in,” Bob says, clearing his throat. “But we’ve still got another stop to make in here and time is somewhat of the essence-”

Gerard’s suddenly launches at Frank, kissing him.

“Or not, you know, whatever,” Bob continues. “Not like there’s a bunch of Drac’s after us.”

Gerard pulls away, his face slightly flushed. Mikey is staring determinedly at the ceiling.

“You never told me –”

“Yeah, I’m a bit late to the party on this one,” Frank explains. “Bob’s right though – emotional heart-to-hearts later, ok?”


~*~*~


It’s definitely true what they say about strength in numbers; with Mikey, Ray and Gerard added, it brings their total up to nine, which makes getting to Testing Room 6 considerably easier. Much to Frank’s complete and utter irritation, Shop Soiled takes an immediate liking to Gerard.

“Hi, we haven’t been introduced properly,” Shop Soiled says just after the group ghosted a bunch of Draculoids. He turns to Gerard and holds out his hand. “I’m Shop Soiled, and I played a rather large part in your daring rescue.”

Frank doesn’t realise the growl he heard came from his own throat until he saw everyone else stare at him in alarm.

“I – uh – nice to meet you, Shop Soiled. I’m Party Poison,” Gerard says, shooting an uncertain look at Frank before shaking Shop Soiled’s hand. “I’m already kinda with Fun Ghoul.”

Despite the strength in numbers though, it doesn’t mean the machine in there is any less terrifying than it was the first time around though.

“OK, hop on,” Mikey says, patting the table with an unmistakable air of glee.

“... Do I have to be strapped down again?”

“Probably.”

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Frank grumbles as he climbs on the table. Gerard and Ray strap him in.

“How’s that?” Ray asks, tugging on the straps.

“Bit tighter.” Mikey’s settled himself down at one of the keyboards and is typing at a brilliant speed. “OK, step back –”

The machine hums. The table Frank’s on glides into the tunnel part of it and Frank tries not to struggle too much; he hates small spaces. His breathing echoes around him.

“OK Frank, three, two –” Mikey calls out.

Frank stares at the white plastic above him and gulps. The humming gets louder and he suddenly feels like his head’s been caught in a vice –

And then the table’s sliding back out.

“Frankie?” Gerard looks anxious.

“What the fuck, I’m still here?!” Frank yells, struggling against the straps. “You dickhead, you kept me here!!”

“Relax.” Even without being able to see him properly, Frank can almost hear the bastard’s eyes roll. “I just set it so that the portal closes the next time you fall asleep here. Last thing we need is the Fun Ghoul from here suddenly showing up and slowing us down.”

“You could have told me, fucker,” Frank grumbles as Ray and Gerard set to loosening the straps.

“What, and ruin the fun?” Mikey asks.

Frank sits up and glares at him.

“If we get out of here in one piece, you and I need to have a very long conversation about your general attitude towards me,” he says, pointing his gun menacingly at Mikey.

“Later, OK?” Ray says as Gerard helps Frank get off the table. “More pressing matters at hand, got it?”

“Actually, guys –” Frank hesitates. Everyone stops and stares at him.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Bob says slowly.

“I just – this is all too easy, don’t you think?” Frank says.

No one answers.

“We got lucky,” Shop Soiled says hopefully.

“We got into a secure area and past the guards, left the building and then came back to do it again. That’s not lucky; they’re letting us win,” Frank says. “And this isn’t like Korse to stay out the action – where the hell is he hiding?! I – I know I’m not wrong, there’s definitely something nasty waiting for us when we try to get out.”

“They want you back,” Bob says, clapping him on the shoulder. Frank’s knees buckle under the impact. “Little man with time and space running through his head; you’re valuable.”

“But it’s not happening,” Gerard says, pulling his Party Poison mask down over his face. He smirks, looking more dangerous than ever. “You’re on our team now.”

Frank’s not soothed by the fighting words. If anything, he’s more unsettled. The tech’s not important and neither’s the vortex; after a few mistakes, they’d fixed it so it worked on Frank. They could have used it on anybody. And sure, they made a mistake by leaving it open but that’s nothing they couldn’t have stopped when Frank was unconscious and first dragged in for questioning.

He can’t shake the thought that it’s not about him, that he’s not the one they want.

Because Frank’s been thinking about this a lot – really thinking about it. And it’s actually painfully obvious.

The first time Frank ended up in Battery City 2019 was on the same day he met Gerard in 2011. The first time he started to suspect things were wrong with BLI was the same day he met Party Poison. He found out who Party Poison after he’d first had sex with Gerard.

Better Living Industries would have known about him and Gerard; they’d been living together. And yet, the day after Gerard Way was arrested for taking part in a leading terrorist organisation, his boyfriend got a promotion higher up in the same company Gerard had been trying to take down, which is either incredible stupidity on BLI’s part... or something else much more sinister.

It’s like all the loose strands have finally connected together to create one giant tapestry with a single message embroidered across the middle.

None of this was ever about Frank. Everything revolves entirely around Gerard.


~*~*~


They’ve almost made it down to the first floor when the welcoming committee Frank predicted surprises them a whole floor early. Utter chaos reigns and then things are made about ten times simultaneously worse and better when someone – Frank suspects it’s one of Bob’s team – throws a grenade down a corridor which, granted, destroys the vast majority of Draculoids shooting at them, but also blows a hole in the floor and, in the ensuing dust cloud and confusion, the group ends up being completely separated.

Frank grabs Gerard’s hand and runs, with the hand squeezing his tightly, and it’s not until they’ve run down several corridors and away from the bomb site does Frank discover he’s actually grabbed the hand of an equally surprised Draculoid.

“You’re not Brendon!” the Drac yells as Frank yells “You’re not Gerard!!”

There’s a pause.

“You’re Fun Ghoul,” the Drac says, and he sounds noticeably scared. Maybe it’s his first day?

“Yeah.... Uh... do you, like, wanna just go?” Frank asks, gesturing down a corridor. “I’ll go this way, you go that way, we pretend this never happened?”

The Drac doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s off running as fast as he can.

Frank doesn’t get much further himself before he runs solidly into Mikey Way.

“Get up, fucker!” Mikey yells. “They’re chasing us!!”

“What about -”

“He’s fine!! They’ll catch us up, we’ve got to get out!” Mikey ducks as a raygun blast narrowly avoids his ear.

“This way!” Frank says. “There’s a fire exit nearby!”

They manage to hold off the Dracs as Frank leads the way through the maze of corridors, at least until Frank gets shot in the leg and goes crashing to the ground heavily. He’s still heavily dosed up from the previous batch of no-pain Bob gave him at the flat, but all that means is that he doesn’t realise how badly his leg is hurt until he tries to put his weight on it and promptly goes back down again.

“For fuck’s sake, you useless -!” Mikey’s voice is suddenly in his ear and he’s pulling Frank to his feet, holding him up and dragging him down the corridor.

Mikey shouldn’t be helping him. Mikey should be running for his own life, saving himself. Frank’s just holding him up, they’re going too slowly.

“In here!” Frank says, pointing to a door.

Mikey obeys, kicking the door open and pulling Frank through, before slamming it shut.

“Frank, this is just a room –”

“Shhh!!” Frank hisses, listening intently.

He can hear the Draculoids running down the corridor outside.

“Quick, over to the window,” Frank hisses, trying to walk on one leg as Mikey staggers under his weight. Frank’s never really noticed before but Mikey’s a lot thinner here.

“You’re not serious –”

“This room has the lip of the garage under the window. We can climb down from there.”

Mikey winces as Frank raises his gun and fires two shots at the window. It shatters beautifully and noisily. Somewhere in the sound of glass shattering, Frank swears he hears Bob yelling his name.

Frank’s about to try and carefully climb out onto the ledge when the door bursts open. Mikey gives him a massive shove.

It’s over so quickly. One second he’s falling, the next, he’s landed on the pavement. All the air rushes out of him and he can’t get up –

Get up, you fucker!! You’re going to die if you stay like this!!

His body obeys, painfully slow. He’s not dead, nothing’s broken – he crawls to his knees – his fingers reach out and he finds his gun inches from his hand.

There’s more gunshots and then a loud thud as Mikey lands on the sidewalk next to him. He groans and swears, pushing himself up. Frank’s already rolled over onto his back, firing back up at the Draculoids sticking their heads out the remains of the window -

And then he hears a screech of tires dangerously close to his head, before someone’s pulling him up and dragging him into a van.

“Go motherfuckers, go!!” Mikey yells, climbing in over Frank. The van’s already roaring to life and moving off at dangerous speeds. Mikey’s leaning out the side of the van, precariously holding on to a strap from the ceiling as he fires.

“Get in!” Gerard shouts, pulling the sliding door shut with a clang.

The person who pulled Frank into the van is still sitting behind him. They let out a delighted shriek and Frank realises it’s Show Pony. “We got the full pack of cards!”

Frank looks up, makes a quick headcount of people in the van. Nine. They all got out.

“Are they chasing us?” Ray asks. He’s cradling his left wrist in the other hand. If Frank thought it looked bad after the explosion in the tunnel, that’s nothing to how it looks now.

“Frank?” Bob asks.

The entire van shakes as a gunshot ricochets off the side, seemingly in answer.

“Head for the north tunnel,” Frank calls to DJ Hot Chimp. “Remember the plan??”

“Got it!” she nods.

“There’s a plan?!” Gerard asks.

“Me and Bob left a few surprises for them in the tunnels,” Frank explains, reaching under the bench that Rainbow Puke’s sitting on, carelessly sewing up a wound in Bird Worm’s arm. His fingers close around the plastic detonator he’d left there earlier.

“Frank!!” Bob says.

“What??” Frank looks at Bob.

“What?” Bob asks, looking confused.

“You keep saying my name!”

“No I don’t,” Bob says slowly.

“Yes you do!”

“Dude, he didn’t say anything,” Mikey says, looking at Frank like he’s losing his mind.

Frank’s eyes widen. He’s running out of time.

“Gerard,” he says, worried.

“It’s OK, we’re almost there!!” Gerard yells as the van swerves dangerously.

Frank twists to see out the front windscreen; the tunnel is fast approaching. There’s Draculoids stationed at the front but DJ Hot Chimp doesn’t slow down. If anything, she accelerates. There’s a bang and the van jolts over something that’s probably not a speed bump. Shakily, Frank pulls himself to his feet, using the back of the driver’s headrest as a prop.

“You alright there?” DJ Hot Chimp asks, not taking her eyes off the road.

“Yeah, just about,” Frank grins. His eyes scan the walls ahead, trying to keep an eye out for the signs. “How many we go in tow?”

“3 cars, 5 bikes.”

“Shit.”

Draculoids don’t get to drive cars, which means they’ve got at least 3 people from SCARECROW chasing them. Frank glances in the mirror, trying to see if he can recognise any of the drivers (or at least, a certain person) but it’s too dark to see. It doesn’t matter; he knows Korse is in one of them.

Another shot hit’s the van, making DJ Hot Chimp swerve slightly.

“Fun Ghoul, twelve o’clock!!” Bob suddenly shouts over the noise.

Frank looks up and spots it; in luminous green paint is Fun Ghoul’s smiley face logo, spray-painted on the side of the wall. The first sign.

“That’s more one o’clock!” he says. “Twelve is straight ah-”

“JUST PULL THE PIN, FUCKER!!” Bob yells as the van shoots past the logo.

He does.

There’s a brief second, and then the pig bombs they laid earlier go off. They’re not violent enough to cause the tunnel to cave in, which probably would have resulted in all of them being killed, but they explode in messy clouds of dust and rock that really fuck with the Draculoids on the bikes.

“Fuckin’ A!!” Rainbow Puke crows, thumping Frank on the back.

Frank looks at the wall of dust behind them. There’s some shapes moving through them, and then two of the cars emerge, windscreen wipers going furiously.

Ray swears.

“Relax Jet, Fun Ghoul’s got it all under control,” Bob says. “We got Party Poison coming up at one o’clock.”

“That’s eleven –” Frank begins, but it silenced by Bob’s glare. He waits until they pass the bright orange pill with an X underneath it and presses the detonator again.

There’s another explosion of dust and rocks behind them. This time, only one car comes out.

“Shit, it’s Korse,” Gerard says, peering out the back windows.

“You can tell?” Frank asks, surprised.

“That’s his car, bright spark,” Mikey says flatly.

Frank’s never been much of a petrol head but he probably should have guessed the big boss of Scarecrow would have the most impressive car.

Gerard suddenly kicks the back doors of the van open, his gun out. The dull noise from outside becomes a full-out roar.

“Gee, no!!” Frank yells, his voice lost amongst the din. He’s already dragging himself to the back of the van, his gun drawn.

There’s a Draculoid leaning out the passenger window, aiming shots at them. Shop Soiled and Mikey join in, their own guns aimed and firing. Their shots ricochet off the car behind them, briefly illuminating Korse’s furious face. There’s another bump in the road and Gerard nearly gets thrown out the van if Frank didn’t grab him in time.

“Ghoul, ART IS THE WEAPON!!” Bob yells.

“Close the doors!!” Frank screams, reaching wildly as he holds onto the edge of the van. The doors swing dangerously, completely out of his reach, and he can see the road below them, rushing below as a river of gravel. There’s a blast and a flash of white light, and someone – Frank doesn’t see who - flies back into the van. Someone screams.

Through his hair whipping in his face, Frank sees the words ‘Art is the Weapon’ rush past, sprayed on the wall in bright red paint as the final sign. He presses the detonator even though he knows it’s too late; uselessly, harmlessly, far behind Korse’s, the final pig bomb goes off. Even though they’re not in the worst of it, the fallout’s bad enough that it still reaches them in the open van, sitting targets and unexpected victims of a backfiring bomb. Dust chokes Frank’s throat and scratches his eyes, and he can see Gerard next to him pulling his scarf up over his face, his eyes screwed shut, and Mikey covering his own face with his hands.

There’s another blast of light and a sharp rush of pain in Frank’s hand that’s holding onto the van. He automatically lets go and there’s a moment where he’s flying – and then someone grabs him around the waist and hauls him back into the van. He collapses heavily on the cold ground, and then he’s aware that he’s screaming, because his hand is on fucking fire –

He rolls to the side, cradling his hand to his chest and sees Shop Soiled lying on the floor next to him. His mask is crooked with a blaster burn on one side, his hair’s all over the place and his eyes are wide open. Rainbow Puke is propped against the wall, curled up with his fists in his hair, not even bothering to fight anymore.

Frank’s not even aware of pulling his own mask off or sitting up. He doesn’t dare look at his own hand, keeping it held against his heart; he only sees a glance of shocking bright red and a strong smell of over-cooked meat. His feet are pointing towards the open door and he realises they’re already out the tunnels with the bright blues and yellows of the Zones at the scenery. Mikey’s taken over Frank’s spot, shooting his own blaster with Gerard, and Korse’s car is still chasing them. Behind him, he can hear Bob and DJ Hot Chimp arguing about which route to take.

“Stay down,” Show Pony says, pressing his hand to Frank’s shoulder. “You’re hurt.”

There’s a triumphant cry from Gerard. Frank looks back out the van in time to see the Draculoid tumble out the side of Korse’s car, landing heavily on the road and rolling away out of sight.

“Give it up!” Gerard screams at Korse’s car tauntingly, laughing like a mad man. “You’re outnumbered!”

Frank groans and rolls to the other side, away from Shop Soiled. His unmaimed hand lands on something solid, and -

All the air rushes out of him. The solid thing next to him is another body, lying face-down on the floor of the van.

Ray.

“Ray,” Frank croaks. He struggles to sit up, trying to push Show Pony’s hand off his shoulder.

“Easy, we’re almost safe,” Show Pony says, holding him down.

“But Ray –”

“He’s breathing, it’s OK,” Show Pony says. His voice sounds odd, like he’s got a really thick cold.

Frank doesn’t know if it’s a lie to placate him or not but he decides to accept it.

“Bob!” Frank says a bit louder. “Stop the van!”

“What?! Are you crazy?!” Bob yells.

“Stop the van!” Frank says. A surge of strength rushes through him. “Seriously!”

“Are you crazy?! He’ll –”

“He’s by himself and he’s still chasing us,” Frank says, pulling himself up. The fire in his right hand has reduced to a slow burn. “Something’s up.”

“Frankie –” Gerard says.

“Stop the fucking van!!” Frank yells.

The van screeches to a halt. Korse follows suit.

There’s a tense silence in the stillness as the dust settles.

“I’m going to talk to him,” Frank says, getting up.

“I’m going with you,” Gerard immediately says.

“No!” Frank says. “He wants you, Gee.”

“Motherfucker, let him,” Gerard says fiercely.

“No!” Frank says again. “I’m not letting anything happen to you –”

“You can’t even walk, Ghoul,” Mikey says.

Frank can’t bring himself to look at Ray. He’s not even sure when it happened. He didn’t even notice.

“Bob? Pony?” Frank asks simply.


~*~*~


Korse is already out of his car, leaning against the door and looking very bored by the time Frank staggers over with Bob and Show Pony holding him up. The van is a few feet away and even though Frank knows everyone in there has their gun trained on Korse for the first sight of trouble, it doesn’t ease the knot of tension in his chest.

Korse doesn’t even have his own gun out. He watches them approach with narrowed eyes, his grey coat flapping in the wind and the light reflecting off his black car, standing out vividly against the warm colours of the Zones. He’s all monochrome in a Technicolor picture.

“Well well, Fun Ghoul,” he says dryly as they approach. “Back from the dead. What an honour.”

“Yeah, likewise,” Frank grits as Bob tightens his grip under Frank’s arms, adopting a weird monkey-gait to try and walk in time as Show Pony takes tiny steps with his rollerskates. Perhaps he should have picked people who were more his own height to help him walk and wearing proper shoes, then it might not have been so awkward.

Someone like Shop Soiled.

Frank sets his jaw and looks at Korse.

“I have to admit, Iero, I underestimated you,” Korse says. “A critical mistake, it’ll never happen again.”

“Damn straight,” Frank says. He pauses, and then can’t help himself. “Why me??”

Korse blinks. “You already know that.”

“I’ve got my suspicions. I want to hear you confirm it.”

Korse rolls his eyes. “It’s always been the plan for you. When you were hired by Better Living Industries, we already knew who you were associated with. Your promotion to Scarecrow and your position in the company was never about your skills and abilities. Though I have to admit, we never doubted your loyalty to the company... an oversight on our part.” He shrugs.

“You fucking mind-wiped my boyfriend and turned my friends against me. How the fuck did you ever think I’d be loyal to you?!”

“You did the work we asked and produced acceptable results. Don’t act like you’ve never killed a man, Iero. You might have fabricated the evidence for Fun Ghoul’s ‘death’ but there’s plenty of Draculoid’s in Battery City who are there because of you.”

“And they know, don’t they?” Frank says, feeling a wave of misery wash over him. “That’s why those Draculoids hated me so much. The memory wipes aren’t exact, they get flickers of the past. Drac’s can remember certain things. They know it’s my fault they’re the way they are.”

Korse’s lip curls up in one corner in a triumphant smirk.

“Fuck,” Frank hisses. Around his waist, Bob gives him a reassuring squeeze.

“So, Briar Rabbit,” Korse says, turning to Bob. “I must say, you’re a hard one to pin down. Easier now we know your contacts though.”

Bob snorts. “Go on and fucking try,” he says. “You haven’t caught me yet.”

“And this must be the legendary Show Pony,” Korse says. “Tell me, how’s the good Doctor doing? I believe the last time I saw him -”

“He’s still dancing,” Pony says curtly. Frank feels Show Pony’s grip on his back tighten.

“And don’t change the subject!” Frank snaps as there’s a spike of pain in his hand.

Korse narrows his eyes and turns back to Frank.

“Project Two-Zero-One-One is a failed experiment, nothing more, nothing less. Now we know the futile nature of time travel –”

“You should have already known you wouldn’t be able to change a fucking thing!! Why would you even try??”

For the first time that Frank’s known him, Korse looks away, out at the horizon of the wasted land.

“Any alternate is better than what we have now,” he says quietly. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Frank really can’t answer that.

Korse sighs and looks back at Frank.

“And even if not, we have to protect the city,” he says. “Battery City is the last hope for mankind.”

“We can’t be the only ones left,” Frank says. “Out of the entire fucking world –”

“We’re not. Better Living Industries has created havens in the main areas where there are still survivors. Each one runs smoothly with minimal resistance.”

Frank’s mind whirls with the possibilities of cities across the entire world. He tries to imagine a city in England, a city in New Jersey, a city in Japan... there must be people there too who are fighting back. The human race isn’t over. Not yet. There has to be more people out there like Gerard who are escaping, trying to live instead of just survive.

And suddenly he understands why Better Living Industries was so desperate to see if the time travel would work. If they could neutralise the threats before they even became threats...

“People like you need to be stopped,” Korse says coldly. “Don’t you understand what you’re doing?”

“Humanity survived long enough before corporations and medication existed, I think they’d manage well enough without,” Frank says coldly.

“You say that... This isn’t a game.”

Frank blinks, reigning his focus in. He can’t think about the world right now, it’s too big. It’s not his problem. He only wanted to protect Gerard and his friends, he never wanted to be the savour of the entire fucking human race!

“You want a fight?” Frank snarls, and he’s so suddenly fucking angry. “You hired me with every full intention of manipulating me to work against my friends. You used me. You –”

Bob and Show Pony simultaneously grip him tighter, holding him back.

“We did what we had to,” Korse says bluntly. “You are one person for the sake of the city. It’s a fair price to pay, I’d wager. Battery City cannot sustain itself if the population starts to think for itself.”

“Well then maybe Battery City needs to die,” Frank says simply.

“You’d destroy the world with that attitude.”

Frank snorts. “Then let’s blow this fucker up.”

Korse rolls his eyes. “So juvenile.”

The temptation to stick his tongue out is unbelievable. Instead, he laughs. “Shouldn’t this be the part where you tell me I’m making the wrong choice?”

“You already know you’re making the wrong choice. And I’m tired of this.”

He’s expecting Korse to ghost him. Instead, Korse shakes his head and turns away.

“Wha – What are you doing?!” Frank blurts out.

“One rogue agent isn’t worth my time,” Korse shrugs. “Especially with the paperwork. You won’t survive a week out in the Zones, and when you come crawling back –”

“That won’t happen.”

Korse looks bored. “You were never the target, Iero. Don’t flatter yourself; you’re not that important.”

“You’re never going to get Party Poison either,” Frank snaps.

That gets Korse’s attention. He stops.

“People are already wising up to it. Your ‘oh, let’s save the human race’ bullshit – it’s a fucking lie,” Frank continues. “You say people need the city to survive but it’s not that. Maybe Better Living Industries had good intentions in the beginning but it’s corrupt and mad with power now. If you’re trying to save the fucking human race then you don’t fucking kill people who are trying to think for themselves.”

Korse turns slightly, looking back at Frank out the corner of his eye.

“We can’t take down Better Living Industries by ourselves. Me, Party Poison, Jet Star and Kobra Kid versus BLI? We ain’t gonna win that battle. We know that and you know that. But you know what we can do?” Frank can’t resist pausing and grinning. “We can fucking try. Because sooner or later, someone’s gonna notice.”

There’s a long silence. The wind blows the dust into tiny swirls around Frank’s boots. He grips tightly to Bob with his free hand. Something drips down his ruined hand off the fingertips, red mixing with the dirt. Korse remains motionless, a lone figure in the desert. He’s got no backup, no weapon... it’d be so easy to ghost him here and now, with his back turned. No one would ever know and they’d get his car out of it.

Frank lifts his chin in defiance of his own thoughts. He won’t. That’s stooping to Better Living Industries level. And anyway, if they kill Korse, someone else will just take his place. He’s just one man to a corporation that has a hundred nameless workers.

“Keep running, Fun Ghoul,” Korse says, slowly and roughly. His voice carries on the wind. A chill runs down Frank’s spine.

Before Frank can retaliate, Korse gets back in his car and drives away.

Frank’s not gonna lie; the snub stings. He’s not even important enough to deserve being gunned down in the desert like an animal.

He watches him drive off into the distance, back towards the city.

“Come on,” Bob says as Korse’s car fades on the horizon. “We need to get back. It’ll be dark soon.”

Frank lets himself be carried back to the van.


~*~*~


They bury Shop Soiled a little way from the road as the sun starts to set. Frank wants to help dig the hole but is assured he’d be more of a hindrance than help. Instead, he sits in the van next to Ray’s unconscious form and Mikey as Show Pony loosely bandages up his hand.

“You’re lucky, they just burnt the skin,” Show Pony says, gently holding Frank’s ruined hand. “We can get you some antibiotics so it won’t get infected and you should be OK.”

Frank’s pissed, more because he’s now stuck with the word “WEEN” on his surviving knuckles and no way of ever fixing it.

Show Pony goes on to strap up Mikey’s ankle but Shop Soiled’s crew refuse any medical help.

“We take care of ourselves,” Bird Worm says bluntly, wiping the blood off his face. Pineapple Lies keeps his mask firmly pulled down and Frank pretends not to notice the tears. Gerard and Bob help them dig the hole using scraps of metal from the side of the road.

“OK, stop, that’s deep enough,” Rainbow Puke says eventually.

With Pineapple Lie’s help, Bird Worm carries Shop Soiled’s body over to the hole. Show Pony hoists Frank up as Gerard helps his limp over, leaving Ray in the van. DJ Hot Chimp follows mutely behind them.

“Big turn out for his funeral,” Pineapple Lies says when they’re all standing around the hole. “More than his birthday.”

Rainbow Puke sniggers. “OK. Let’s do this.”

He makes to pick up Shop Soiled when Bob suddenly clears his throat. “Uh, does anyone want to say anything? You know he’d have hated to not have a big fanfare.”

Bird Worm, Pineapple Lies and Rainbow Puke all chuckle. Frank leans into Show Pony for some support, although he’s not sure how much good that’ll do considering his “crutch” is on rollerskates.

“Fair enough. OK, I’ll go first.” Rainbow Puke clears his throat. “Bert, you fucker. We lost ourselves a good friend with you. We’ll carry on fighting for you.”

He nods to Bird Worm, who shakes his head. Instead, Pineapple Lies speaks up.

“Yeah, we’ve never been big on emotional stuff or speeches. That was more his style of stuff. But we hope you’re in a better place now and we’re glad they never got you.”

Pineapple Lies looks at Bob who just nods and grunts “Yeah. What he said.”

Show Pony, DJ Hot Chimp, Gerard and Mikey all take turns to say a quick thank you and pay their respects. When it comes to Frank’s turn, his throat feels almost too tight to speak.

“Thank you,” Frank says eventually. “You saved my ass and we couldn’t have got out of here without you.”

He wants to say more – he wants to say how sorry he is he got this man killed, this man who’s real name he didn’t even know until after he was dead – but it feels inappropriate. Out here in the Zones, there’s less need for eloquence, especially when the people who really knew him are speaking so bluntly.

“OK, we good?” Pineapple Lies asks. Bird Worm and Rainbow Puke nod. They pick Shop Soiled up by the wrists and ankles and then, with a quick “one, two, three!” swing him unceremoniously into the hole. When the dirt is piled back on top of him, Rainbow Puke places Shop Soiled’s mask on top of the raised mound with surprising care. The burn mark where he got blasted in the face is still there, permanently incorporated into the design as it stares back at the group of people standing around its owner’s grave.

It’s the most heartless way Frank’s ever seen anyone buried and yet oddly, it’s also the most touching.


~*~*~


DJ Hot Chimp drops Bob and the rest of Shop Soiled’s crew at an old petrol station.

“Keep in touch, Fun Ghoul,” Bob says as Frank throws his arms around Bob’s neck in a massive hug.

“Thank you,” Frank squeaks. “Seriously, I’ll be thanking you like a lunatic when I get back but seriously –”

“I got it,” Bob says, grinning. “You owe me drinks for the next 7 years, OK?”

Ray regains consciousness shortly after they leave the petrol station, groaning and swearing as he sits up.

“You’re alive!!” Frank cries, delighted.

“Apparently,” Ray says, wincing. “Fuck, my chest... what the fuck happened??”

“You took a blast to the chest,” Show Pony says. “Fell back and whacked your head. Good thing you just happened to be wearing a deflector under your shirt.”

Gerard stares at Ray in disbelief.

“You were wearing a deflector?! How the fuck did you even get one of those?! Those things weigh a ton!”

“Yeah, I know,” Ray grimaces. “Fucking thing’s nearly got me killed about fifty times. I traded in some stuff for it a while back.”

“No one wears fucking deflectors, Toro,” Mikey says, looking like he’s trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck is a deflector?!” Frank asks.

“This,” Ray says, pulling off his t-shirt. He’s wearing what looks like a giant piece of metal strapped to his chest. There’s a giant dent in the centre of it. “BLI came up with a bunch of these a few years back to try and work as bulletproof vests against the blasters but they had to scrap the idea because the only way to properly stop a blaster was to use solid metal that was generally too heavy for practical use.”

“Why the fuck were you wearing that?!” Frank asks.

Ray laughs as Show Pony helps him lift it off over his head. “A few years ago, you said something to me after a night out and it was so fucking weird that it kinda stuck with me.”

Frank can feel a grin forming on his face. “I didn’t go all Back to the Future on you, did I?”

Ray laughs, rubbing the area on his chest where there’s already a giant bruise forming. “Ha, no, no letter or anything, you were actually pretty fucking cryptic. You just said ‘Ray, some day, we’re gonna be involved in a shoot-out. You’ll know when; there’ll be a daring rescue, explosions and people are going to die. So for fuck’s sake, make sure you’ve got a bulletproof heart.’ And I discover two days ago that it turns out you’ve been jumping back and forth between here and 2011, and I suddenly realised it might not be a bad idea to actually listen to you.”

When the van pulls up to the deserted diner, the sun’s almost set. Frank keeps his good hand on his gun, half expecting to find a bunch of Draculoids hiding inside.

“Are you sure it’s safe to go back here?” Frank asks, looking at the ruins of the interior.

“It’s home,” Gerard says simply, kicking aside some loose wood on the floor.

“Besides, it’s not the first time they’ve raided this place,” Mikey says bluntly, hopping over to one of remaining booths and sitting down delicately in it. Ray slides in next to him, resting his head on Mikey’s shoulder.

“It’s been a long, fucking day,” Ray says, exhausted.

“You need to stay conscious,” Show Pony says sternly. He pulls off his helmet and gives Ray a hard look. “At least for another hour or so. You’ve had a serious head wound, I’m not letting you sleep yet!!”

“Thankfully, I know just the thing to keep you awake,” Gerard says with a grin, holding out a broom.

Frank wants to help but despite being given a new dose of No-Pain, Gerard tells him to sit tight and rest. Show Pony helps out with the clearing up and by the time they’ve finished, the sun’s completely set. Miraculously, the main interior of the diner wasn’t as destroyed as Frank had suspected – a few of the seats were fucked and one of the windows blown out but other than that, it’s still solid. However, DJ Hot Chimp’s long gone with her van and Frank notices how Show Pony peers nervously out at the dark.

“Need to stay?” Frank asks immediately. It’s not his home, so to speak, so maybe it’s not right for him to invite anyone in, but they all seem to be on good terms with Pony anyway.

Pony smiles, relieved, running a hand through his blue hair. “That’d be swell. You got a spare booth I can crash in?”

“Make yourself at home,” Gerard says. “Anyway, I’m beat, so I think it’s time for bed –”

“Hey,” Pony says suddenly. He points at Frank. “I won’t see you again, will I?”

“Yes you will, you’ll see him tomorrow,” Mikey says.

“Not him,” Pony says. “He’ll be back in 2011.”

There’s a collective intake of breath; clearly, this part of the end of the day had slipped Mikey and Ray’s minds.

“Fuck, that’s right. Dude, that’s so weird,” Ray says. “Do I need to say goodbye or something?”

Frank shrugs. Truth be told, he’s not sure if this is a goodbye. He’ll see Ray again back in 2011 and – if everything’s done right – the 2019 version of Frank, the right Frank, will be back here immediately.

“Just – go easy on him. He’s been asleep for a few weeks, he might need a bit of a catch-up when he wakes up. Me, I mean. The me from here. Fuck, this is weird!”

Ray laughs and punches Frank’s arm. “Yeah, I get it.”

Frank turns to Mikey, who raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll be nice, if you don’t keep saying ‘I told you so’. Deal?” he says.

“Deal, Mikey Way,” Frank laughs, shaking Mikey’s hand with his good hand.

Frank turns to Show Pony, who abruptly hugs him.

“You haven’t met me yet,” he says in Frank’s ear. When he pulls back, there’s a gleam in his eye. “But... we do meet. 2015. Briefly. I have different hair and you’re a bit fatter.”

Frank stares at him, not sure what to make of this. “I’ll – I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“You do that,” Pony smiles.

Gerard’s looped an arm under Frank’s armpits and helps him back towards the kitchen, where there’s a mattress set up on the floor in the corner. The door swings shut behind them and suddenly Frank’s painfully aware of how him and Gerard are alone together. He can still faintly hear Ray, Mikey and Show Pony talking at the other end of the diner.

“Yeah, well,” Gerard says, looking slightly embarrassed. “Mikey said if me and you were going to be sharing a bed, there was no fucking way he wanted to be in the same room.”

“Just remember that door’s not soundproof,” Mikey suddenly yells out.

Frank grins. He leans up and kisses Gerard chastely on the cheek, his stubble rough against Frank’s lips. He’d really like to have one last night of passion or something... but he’s just too fucking tired and sore. He’ll settle for some snuggling and kissing if he can.

Gerard helps Frank lie down on the bed somewhat awkwardly. Frank has a feeling he’s going to need to fashion up a brace or a crutch at some point in the near future... he just hopes he can remember this in eight years time. Gerard stretches out next to him and for a few minutes, they lie in the darkness together.

“So, this is weird,” Gerard says.

Relief rushes through Frank that Gerard’s voiced what he’s thinking.

“Yeah, a bit,” he says, laughing.

“I mean, it’s still going to be you, right? It’s not going to be some weird other-world version of you, is it?”

“Fuck, I hope not!” Frank says. “I’m kinda looking forward to coming back here and being able to enjoy some more time with you when I’m not bandaged up to –” He freezes as a new, horrifying thought occurs to him. He holds up his bandaged, right hand. “Fuck!! I’m right handed!!”

Gerard chuckles and wraps an arm around Frank’s waist, nuzzling into his neck. “It’s OK... You’ll heal. Pony said it’s just a flesh wound.”

“Well, yes. Third degree burns but technically just a flesh wound,” Frank says sarcastically. He doesn’t even want to think about how fucked his tattoos are.

They lapse into comfortable silence again for a bit.

“So... what did Korse say to you?” Gerard asks.

“Various stuff. Mostly things I already knew.”

“Like?”

Frank sighs. “We’re not the good guys, are we?”

“We’re not the bad guys either,” Gerard points out. “There’s no right or wrong answers here. You’ve just got to go with what you think is right.”

“I’m sticking with you. That’ll do for me.”

“Good choice,” Gerard murmurs.

“Gee –” Frank pauses. “There’s something I didn’t tell you.”

“Hmm?” Frank feels Gerard’s entire body tense up but his voice stays casual.

“About – about why I ended up here in the first place.”

Frank tells him and he doesn’t hold back. He tells him about how it all first started on the day they first met in Starbucks. He tells him about how his impression of Gerard changed from Douchey Art Boy to seriously-hot-Art Boy. He tells him about the night of Mikey’s first gig. He tells him everything else too, how BLI always planned for Frank to unintentionally sabotage Gerard’s life, how he came to fucking close to actually doing it and how fucking worthless it all was.

“... and it’s always been about you, Gee,” Frank finishes. “You’re so fucking important – you’re like the pin in the grenade that’s the Killjoys verses Battery City or something, and I – I’m just me. Korse could have killed me there and then and he didn’t because it was me and not you! I’m not even the main character in my own fucking story! I’m like fucking Ron Weasley or something. I’m just the useless support cast.”

“Come on Frankie, you know that’s not true,” Gerard says gently. “Besides, being the protagonist kinda sucks. Everyone keeps trying to kill me. But hey, it’s OK and you know why?”

“Why?” Frank asks glumly.

“Because the main love interest in my story is the most awesome of love interests who not only decided to fucking raise an army and storm the big bad’s headquarters just to get me out, but also spent years deceiving everyone so that he could pull it off perfectly.” Gerard pushes a few strands of hair off Frank’s face. “It’s a shame he’s so stupid that he can’t see how great he is, that he’s more than just the supporting cast – If I’m the grenade, you’re the person holding it. I’m the pin, you’re my detonator.”

He pauses.

“And... I kinda lied to you too.”

“What?! You lied to me?! What about?!”

“When I said I never remembered you,” Gerard says. “The first time I saw you, when those Draculoids were chasing you down... I’d been seeing your face in my dreams for months and I knew your name was Frankie but I didn’t know who you were. I asked Mikey and he’d told me he didn’t know and it was best if I forgot it, but I couldn’t... you were completely there, you know? And then one night, Mikey goes off to liaise with Ray and I had to wait in the car down an alley, out of sight but keep the engine running. So, I’m sitting there when you suddenly go sprinting past and I just knew it was you, I recognised you instantly. I didn’t even think, I just started up the car and started driving and then I saw the Dracs...

“When I realised you were Scarecrow, I thought I’d made the worst mistake of my life or something, because the guy I’d been looking for, I knew he was a good person. And then you left your ID in my car and I realised you were Frank Iero, the guy who’d killed Fun Ghoul but you were also a Frank, and I started thinking what if you were the Frankie I was thinking of...”

Gerard laughs. “I got a little bit obsessed with you,” he admits. “And I kept getting all these weird flashbacks... I stopped telling Mikey about them because he really didn’t trust you, but when I asked Ray, he seemed a bit... well, he seemed a bit conflicted about what advice to give! He said you were a complicated man but I should go with what I thought was right.”

He pauses again.

“And by the way, I have no idea who Ron Weasley is.”

“What?! Oh man, do I have a great story to tell you,” Frank says, yawning. “Remind me in the morning to tell you...”

He blinks, his eyelids heavy... Everything fogs up and then slowly comes back into focus and the room gets lighter...

He blinks again. He’s lying in an unfamiliar room that looks suspiciously like a hospital.

Frank sits bolt upright in the bed. He’s wearing a hospital gown and his right hand is completely unharmed but there’s also a wristband around his wrist with his name and date of birth typed on it.

Horror fills Frank.

He’s a patient in a hospital. He’s a lunatic.

“I KNEW IT!!” he shrieks.

“Knew what?!” grumbles a voice.

Frank looks to his left – and in the chair to the side, clearly having just woken up, is Bob Bryar.

“Bob!” Frank cries, surprised. “Am I in the loony bin!?”

Bob blinks and rubs his face. “What?”

“BLI, Scarecrow, Party Poison!!” Frank says. “Was none of it real?!”

“Beats me,” Bob says, yawning. “It hasn’t happened yet.”

“But I – wait, what? What year is it?!”

“It’s 2011,” Bob says. “Incidentally, how were things in 2019? Did it work?”

“Yeah, but – hang on, if I’m not crazy, why am I in hospital?!”

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Bob explains. “I started to get a bit worried.”

“I was fine! You didn’t need to put me in hospital!!” Frank protests.

“Dude,” Bob says, staring at Frank incredulously. “I don’t care if you were saving the world in a future dimension - You were unconscious. And screaming.”

Frank’s about to retort when the door opens and suddenly, he’s been attacked by something heavy that makes a noise like a dying vulture and smells like coffee, unwashed hair and paint.

“Frankie!!” Gerard squawks, nuzzling into Frank’s neck with his arms thrown around Frank. “You’re alive!!”

He’s kissing Frank on the cheek as many times as he can, turning Frank’s face into a massive slobberfest.

“Gee –” Frank says, patting his back.

“Oh fuck, right, you’re in hospital!” Gerard pulls back, looking at him alarmed. “Did I hurt you?!”

Frank looks at Gerard. Really looks at him. He takes in Gerard’s black hair that really needs a wash, his round face, his weird, tiny teeth, the stubble on his chin, the few spots dotted here and there, the abnormally pale skin and how his hazel eyes are sparkling and entirely focused on Frank.

Frank doesn’t bother to reply. Instead, he grabs Gerard by the front of his shirt and kisses him.



Epilogue