Giving Up the Ghost (epilogue) - Bandom, MCR, Bob/Gerard
part three | master post
Epilogue
Heat blasts through the garage door. Paint fumes blast back out.
Gerard takes his mask off. "Not bad."
It's not the same. The car door reads VAYA again, but in orange and red, and the letters on the tailgate spell "keep running". But the spider's back. Bob runs his fingers over its surface, smearing one of the legs a little.
Not bad at all.
-
The wind and boots crunching on sand are the only sounds in New Chicago.
All the Killjoys, Bob included, wear bandannas over their faces, goggles and sunglasses protecting their eyes from the dust. The streets are almost deserted, but here and there, masked zonerunners watch, expressions covered.
Still, no one else bothers them before they make it to Pete's house. Pete opens the door when Ray knocks.
"Wow."
"Hi to you, too," Mikey says, and Pete grins.
"Missed you guys," he says, and lets them in.
Gerard paces for a second before speaking. "You're doing a final run on the city?"
"That's right." Pete's smile fades. "You got a problem with it?"
"Actually, I had a few ideas."
Pete laughs. "Fuck yes."
-
Bob hands Patrick some of his old clothes: the black vest, the yellow jacket he used to use, the brown leather jacket he's uses now. He even takes the Cosmic Thrust shirt off his back.
"Should probably wash that one," he says, and Gerard laughs.
"I'll keep that in mind," Patrick says, putting his clothes in the new arrivals box. "What's the occasion?"
Bob wanders the racks until orange catches his eye. He stops in front of the jackets.
"Got a party to go to," he says.
-
The Black Parade is dead.
The Trans Am still gets a wide berth when it pulls up in front of the gates of New Chicago, and from the back of his bike, Bob doesn't miss any of the looks they're given when Gerard steps out and the others lean out the windows. But no one says anything or makes a move, so Bob doesn't acknowledge anyone.
Like all the other cars in the lineup, they have extra guns mounted: a bazooka sticking out the top, a machine gun anchored to the top, and something with lasers that Bob and Ray put together using the scraps at the diner. Gerard even added a back shield with five symbols on it: one for each of the Killjoys.
Bob looks up and down the line. He's never seen their numbers this high before. One way or another, they won't be ever again.
Brian pulls up on his bike.
"Rocket Roller," Bob says.
"Spit Fire." Brian looks him up and down. "Nice outfit."
Bob's wearing the orange jacket and a red shirt. The jeans and sneakers are from before, and they fit perfectly. He has his new mask stashed away: a gas mask with flames painted by Gerard.
"Couldn't be underdressed," he says.
Gerard climbs on a makeshift stage. It looks like the tables from the bar tied together, with a couple extra beams for support. Grace stands at the foot, and she hands him a megaphone once he gets to the top. She waves at Bob.
The megaphone crackles to life.
"Good evening, New Chicago!"
Cheers rise to Bob's left. It comes from two cars: Pete's, with Patrick, Andy, and Joe crowded around, and the Cobra car, a red snake painted on the side.
"Would you destroy something perfect in order to make it beautiful?"
More cheers from more cars. Bob claps his hands. He's never been the cheering type.
Gerard continues in that vein for a while. The breeze carries most of his words down the line, but he has a way of working the crowd that doesn't need speech. He always has.
He finishes with a flourish, and everyone shouts and yells. Bob sees Pete put on his fabric ears as Gerard jumps down, and all the cars and bikes roar to life.
Gerard stops in front of the Trans Am with a grin for Bob. "Are you ready?"
Everyone gives their own version of yes back. Bob's heart pounds in his throat as he slaps the visor of his helmet down, and Gerard climbs in the driver's seat.
The second before they pull out, Frank whoops loudly, and Ray claps his hands a couple times. Gerard holds his arm up, holding his bandanna for the world to see.
Bob laughs.
Gerard lets go.
art | master post | mix
Epilogue
Heat blasts through the garage door. Paint fumes blast back out.
Gerard takes his mask off. "Not bad."
It's not the same. The car door reads VAYA again, but in orange and red, and the letters on the tailgate spell "keep running". But the spider's back. Bob runs his fingers over its surface, smearing one of the legs a little.
Not bad at all.
-
The wind and boots crunching on sand are the only sounds in New Chicago.
All the Killjoys, Bob included, wear bandannas over their faces, goggles and sunglasses protecting their eyes from the dust. The streets are almost deserted, but here and there, masked zonerunners watch, expressions covered.
Still, no one else bothers them before they make it to Pete's house. Pete opens the door when Ray knocks.
"Wow."
"Hi to you, too," Mikey says, and Pete grins.
"Missed you guys," he says, and lets them in.
Gerard paces for a second before speaking. "You're doing a final run on the city?"
"That's right." Pete's smile fades. "You got a problem with it?"
"Actually, I had a few ideas."
Pete laughs. "Fuck yes."
-
Bob hands Patrick some of his old clothes: the black vest, the yellow jacket he used to use, the brown leather jacket he's uses now. He even takes the Cosmic Thrust shirt off his back.
"Should probably wash that one," he says, and Gerard laughs.
"I'll keep that in mind," Patrick says, putting his clothes in the new arrivals box. "What's the occasion?"
Bob wanders the racks until orange catches his eye. He stops in front of the jackets.
"Got a party to go to," he says.
-
The Black Parade is dead.
The Trans Am still gets a wide berth when it pulls up in front of the gates of New Chicago, and from the back of his bike, Bob doesn't miss any of the looks they're given when Gerard steps out and the others lean out the windows. But no one says anything or makes a move, so Bob doesn't acknowledge anyone.
Like all the other cars in the lineup, they have extra guns mounted: a bazooka sticking out the top, a machine gun anchored to the top, and something with lasers that Bob and Ray put together using the scraps at the diner. Gerard even added a back shield with five symbols on it: one for each of the Killjoys.
Bob looks up and down the line. He's never seen their numbers this high before. One way or another, they won't be ever again.
Brian pulls up on his bike.
"Rocket Roller," Bob says.
"Spit Fire." Brian looks him up and down. "Nice outfit."
Bob's wearing the orange jacket and a red shirt. The jeans and sneakers are from before, and they fit perfectly. He has his new mask stashed away: a gas mask with flames painted by Gerard.
"Couldn't be underdressed," he says.
Gerard climbs on a makeshift stage. It looks like the tables from the bar tied together, with a couple extra beams for support. Grace stands at the foot, and she hands him a megaphone once he gets to the top. She waves at Bob.
The megaphone crackles to life.
"Good evening, New Chicago!"
Cheers rise to Bob's left. It comes from two cars: Pete's, with Patrick, Andy, and Joe crowded around, and the Cobra car, a red snake painted on the side.
"Would you destroy something perfect in order to make it beautiful?"
More cheers from more cars. Bob claps his hands. He's never been the cheering type.
Gerard continues in that vein for a while. The breeze carries most of his words down the line, but he has a way of working the crowd that doesn't need speech. He always has.
He finishes with a flourish, and everyone shouts and yells. Bob sees Pete put on his fabric ears as Gerard jumps down, and all the cars and bikes roar to life.
Gerard stops in front of the Trans Am with a grin for Bob. "Are you ready?"
Everyone gives their own version of yes back. Bob's heart pounds in his throat as he slaps the visor of his helmet down, and Gerard climbs in the driver's seat.
The second before they pull out, Frank whoops loudly, and Ray claps his hands a couple times. Gerard holds his arm up, holding his bandanna for the world to see.
Bob laughs.
Gerard lets go.
art | master post | mix