Turn Up the Fakes and Lies
Title: Turn Up the Fakes and Lies
Author:iron_fist123 and vinvy
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R (for language)
Summary: "Why don't you want Kobra to name his baby after you?"
Warnings: profanity, implied non-con, adult themes, drug use, angst, backstory
Disclaimer: Do not remove tag under penalty of law. None of this ever happened, thank you very much. We're glad it didn't.
(Previous Chapters)
Act 4
The wind roared outside, pitting the walls and glass of the diner. Dust was dripping through the seal around the door and through spots along the walls that had seemed impregnable.
Show Pony was on the first watch, gliding lazily around the diner’s main room with his flasher in hand. They would all take an hour that night. Sand storms were hellish and it was unwise to travel in them. That was no deterrent for roaming bands of Wave-Heads. The mutated humans ran great clubs but they were also the part of the reason the Fabulous Killjoys had such a reputation for violence- the gangs went around in bright colors, pillaging and causing chaos in the Zones. They liked nights like this the best for their games.
Frank was sandwiched into the twin bed in what he referred to in his head as the Art Room. The dim light from an overhead lamp was lulling. Poison was spooned up close behind him, his arm snug around his waist. He figured he could get used to this, the snuggling and the warmth and the feeling that he belonged somewhere. Before they’d crawled in bed Poison had hung his jacket and gun belt on the bed post beside Frank’s. He’d slipped out of his boots, too.
Frank was sleepily wondering if that meant anything when Poison whispered, “You still awake, Ghoul?”
“Mm? Yeah,” he said.
“Oh,” he breathed, tucking his face into Frank’s neck.
They stayed like that for a while, pressed close together under the thin cotton blanket. Poison’s breath on his neck made him shiver a bit, but that was just fine with him. It was good. Nice enough to make his skin all tingly but not be a complete turn on. Perfect to fall asleep to. His head was getting that fuzzy almost-asleep feeling and odd, colorful images were floating around behind his eyelids. Some bright sense of questioning jerked him out of it, though.
“Poison?”
“Yes?” He didn’t even sound tired.
“Why didn’t you…” Frank trailed off, a little unsure of how to ask.
“Why didn’t I what, Ghoul?”
“Why don’t you want Kobra to name his baby after you?”
“I’ve got a bad name. He doesn’t really want that kid to have my name, he just thinks he does.”
“I think your name is just fine-“
Poison hummed and nuzzled Frank. “Yeah, I know you do, and you say it so nicely.” He kissed the skin under his earlobe.
“I want to know-“
“Sh-”
“Please tell me?”
“You won’t understand, Ghoul,” there was acceptance and pain in his voice. He nibbled the place where Frank’s neck became his shoulder, “and that’s okay, sugar, it really is.”
Frank was frustrated to no end by this man. He souldn’t stand knowing that something was bothering him so much and not knowing the details. “No it is not!” He pulled Poison off of his neck by the hair. He was unprepared for the reaction he got.
Poison slapped his hand away and pulled back, moving far to the foot of the bed. “Don’t pull my fucking hair!” His voice was choked with panic. He’d pulled a switch blade out of nowhere and had it open, pointed at Frank. His hand was shaking.
Frank sat up slowly, holding his hands up in surrender. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
Panting, Poison closed the knife and returned it to his pocket. At length he spoke.“You want to know why that kid shouldn’t be named after me?”
“Yes, but only if you want to tell me, Poison. I didn’t mean to push you. I’m sorry.”
His face hidden by his hair but he held Frank with his eyes just the same. He could hardly breathe. His mind was being invaded by those eyes, probed- did Poison know what he was thinking? The man shifted and from behind the red hair there was a luminous flash of green-gold like a cat caught in a flashlight beam.
Frank gasped. That had to be a trick of the light. It had to be.
“Come here. I can’t look at you.”
Unsure Frank extracted himself from the covers, wondering exactly what the words meant. Poison was impatient. He wrapped his arms around Frank’s waist and pulled him onto his lap, hugging him like a child would a teddy bear and nuzzling the top of his head with his chin.
“It’s kind of a long story,” he murmured against Frank’s shoulder, “my story, that is, because it kind of goes back to when I was a kid… family history and whatnot…”
Frank gave Poison’s hand a gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure him somehow.
“My parents worked for Better Living Industries, Inc. when the company had just started out. Well, maybe you couldn’t call it that early but it was before it became the monster it is now. We lived in Battery Towers, pretty high up, too. Mikey and me ran amok up there sometimes. All the neighbors used to say we were full of venom and cyanide like it was cute or something. I think we were six when we started calling each other “Kobra” and “Poison”- it was some silly shit back then.
“My ma worked in the advertising department and my dad was an inventor. He was a good man. He worked on stuff for S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, developing new weapons that would stun and not kill, more advanced security systems. He designed and made new alloys to go into protective clothing. It was amazing to me, growing up, all the ideas that just poured out from his head like water. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.
“Dad had a friend named Korse. Just Korse. That’s how I always knew him. He was kind of a mentor for me, helping me out with math and stuff when my dad wasn’t around. He taught me to play chess, said I was clever and would make a good tactician one day, that I had Scarecrow potential and that I’d go to the top real fast, that I…that I was beautiful. I trusted him, Frankie, I really did…”
There was a long silence. Frank wanted to turn to see Gerard’s face, try to read the unreadable and give him some comfort where it was clearly needed. He did not like the sound of where this was going. Gerard tried to continue and failed to get words out several times.
“I- I was just a kid, like, eleven or some thing,” he spoke in a dry whisper, “I didn’t know… I thought… I d-didn’t realize… I’m sorry, Frankie, but I was just a kid. I swear I didn’t know better. It- It wasn’t my fault.”
The words rolled around in Frank’s head for a moment, confusing and stuttering in his thoughts. By the time the event they alluded to registered in his head, Poison had already moved on with his story, sounding relieved to do so. Frank didn’t have time to be enraged.
“… and then Mikey joined up. We both graduated from the Academy around the same time, top in each of our fields. Mikey, he was just seventeen then. He got the whole scary-brilliant mind thing from our dad. He took over where he left off when he started working at Scarecrow, pushing the science of defense and weaponry into new territory. He got into some serious biotech and I got to be his lab rat. It was kind of fun and wicked helpful.
“You see, Korse was training me for the field. I was going to be what most folks call Chief Exterminator, but it didn’t have the same meaning back then. It didn’t mean killing… So Mikey thought he’d help me out since tracking people isn’t so simple inside a city, not like a forest or the Zones where you can actually see tracks. He brought me up to his lab one day and told me he was going to do something to my eyes. I told him there was no way in hell that he was cutting into me but then I kinda passed out. He’d drugged me. He did some weird nano-technological shit to my retinas. I can see about twice as far as most humans, some weird x-ray type thing that comes and goes, too, and I can see temperature changes if I want. Mikey dumbed it down a bit when he sold it to BLI. He wanted his brother to be the only one out there that badass.” He chuckled to himself.
“So its true? Scarecrows’ eyes really glow like.. yours?”
“Yeah, but only in the right light and only if you get their masks off. The original idea was to have those soldiers be real humans- I would have been the first- but obviously things didn’t go according to plan. The idea got scrapped and now genetically altered sub-humans are used instead. Easier to control.”
Frank stayed silent. His question had already been answered and then some but he got the feeling Poison wasn’t done talking. He intended to let him finish.
“It was a long time before I came to terms with the fact that shit happened to me when I was a kid. I was really good at denying it. One day, though, I just woke up and something in my head had gotten switched off. It was all I could think about or hear or see when I closed my eyes, Korse and- and his hands and his- voice. It made me sick for a couple of weeks. Mikey didn’t know what to think when I didn’t show up for work or leave my apartment. He didn’t know about It. I never told anyone because I hadn’t realized it was bad… when I finally did I didn’t want anyone pitying me.
“I threw up until all I got up was stomach acid… showered about fifty fuckin’ times and I still couldn’t feel clean. I didn’t eat or sleep. I…” He drew a deep breath, “I tried to kill myself. Sleeping pills and a razor blade, you know…but Mikey’d fucked around with my DNA so I would heal faster. So, obviously, I didn’t die. It really pissed me off. I mean, I’d really wanted to die and I hadn’t and now somebody had to pay for it. I cleaned up my mess and called Korse. I was going to confront him, make him… I don’t know what I wanted him to do. Mostly apologize, I guess.”
Frank could feel Poison’s heart rate pick up against his back. He squeezed his hand again but said nothing. If he spoke he knew he’d scream. He’d break things. Demand that Poison tell him why in the hell he hadn’t said anything before. Why hadn’t he told anyone right after? Why hadn’t he gotten some fucking help? Why’d he let Korse get away with it? Those were things he knew he could not ask of the man who held him because he was pretty sure that Poison himself didn’t have the answers.
“We met up at this party at some fancy hotel and there was no real stealthy opportunity to talk. Just lots of mingling and socializing bullshit. He gave me champagne and I took it, trying to act normal. I was a fucking idiot to take it. He’d spiked it. He actually got me all the way up to his goddamn suite and out of my clothes before I could think straight enough to do anything about it.” He shook his head against Frank’s shoulder. “He had this... this thing for pulling my hair and stroking my face- he thought I was pretty. That kind of freaked me out. Bad, bad memories. I think I might have head butted him- I don’t remember it clearly. Knocked him out though.”
Frank would have liked to knock Korse out and then some. Spend a good while beating the ever loving shit out of him, make him regret even looking in Gerard’s direction.
“I tied him to the bed. I stole his car. It’s a miracle I didn’t run over anyone driving out of the city. Or maybe I did. I don’t remember it now. I know I bought about three cases of whiskey and several boxes of saltines from a liquor store on my way out of town. I started drinking when I reached Zone 1 and I didn’t stop for a couple of weeks. Maybe it was a month. Maybe longer than that even. Show Pony found me passed out in the car, half starved and shit faced. I may or may not have thrown up on him. I’m pretty sure I did though.
“I guess I’d gotten myself hooked on the whiskey- it was all I’d had to drink, ya know. Show Pony and D forced me to ride out the DTs and hallucinations, though, even when I tried to kill both of them. They fed me, kept me from offing myself or running away. When I finally sobered up, Pony told me about why they hadn’t left me for dead: Mikey had sent out a transmission to the whole pirate radio network. “This is Kobra Kid. Look alive, Poison, there ain’t a vice tab or fruit punch in the world that can save your soul. Got the Boogeyman after you. Mask up and stay off the grid. They’re comin’ for me. Godspeed. So long and goodnight.” Well, I just about shit when I heard that. I stole Pony’s fuckin’ pink flasher and went back into the city.
“I broke in to S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W HQ. Killed a few Dracs and some of the guys I was training. I got into the interrogation room easily. Mikey… they had him strapped to this chair and, well, you know how they do interrogations. Part of his skull was gone and there were these wires attached to his- his brain. Korse was standing there asking him where I was. He didn’t know. Korse hit a button on this remote that sent a current through the wires and Mikey had a seizure, I think.” He shifted uncomfortably, tensing at the memory. “Korse shot his arm full of something to pull him out of it and asked him again. Mikey must have seen me standing there or something because he just smirked like the little shit he can be sometimes. I shot Korse in the back. I don’t know why I didn’t shoot him in the head…He went down though, which is the important thing.
“Mikey was lucid which freaked me out because I thought he was going to die. His whole face was a wreck, his ribs were broken, so was one of his arms, he couldn’t walk too good… not to mention the exposed chunk of his... brain. He told how to put his head back together and shit, had me stitch the skin back on.” Poison swallowed audibly.
Frank sympathized- just hearing about it was making him nauseous.
“When I untied him he went over to this cabinet in the corner and started throwing bottles at me, then shoved this fat syringe into his arm. It was full of ephedrine. I’m surprised it didn’t stop his heart. To make a long and boring chase scene short, we drove back out to the desert as fast as Korse’s fucking car would take us. D had a different safe house back then and we lived there for a year while Mikey recovered. So I wouldn’t go nuts waiting I painted Korse’s car, plastered it with whatever stickers Show Pony brought back for me. I hate the color white, really I do...
“Mikey... wasn’t ever the same- he turned into the man you know now, quiet, angry. He won’t talk about what Korse did to him but Kandy might know- he trusts her. I think you know the rest from there. Spying and stealing for D, blowing shit up whenever we have the chance, helping out people who got chased out of the city and recruiting some new members for the Fabulous Killjoys along the way. I’m the most wanted man around.
“There are a lot of reasons for the kid not to be named after me,” he concluded firmly, sounding like he’d joined the present again. “I’ve killed people and people want to kill me. They kill or kidnap my family members. My face is posted on every major wanted-dead-or-alive list. There’s so much emotional and political bullshit attached to my name... I don’t want to pass it on to some innocent little baby. It’s like condemning them before they even start. That kid does not need my shit.”
The silence was heavy. The wind had stopped. Frank thought the quiet would crush him. Something wet dripped down onto his cheek. Again. And again. Steadily.
Frank’ heart broke. Gerard was crying, trying not to be noticed. He kept his eyes closed because of that. He turned around, sat up on his knees and pulled him into a tight hug.
“No one will ever hurt you like that again,” Frank rasped out, “I promise. I won’t let them. And that kid, that kid’s gonna turn out just fine even if they name it after you. You’re- you’re amazing. It’ll all be okay.”
Gerard tried to make a sound of consent but it came out as a sob. He shook, trying to restrain himself and doing a poor job of it. Crying was not something he’d made a habit of in the last decade. Frank ran a gentle hand over his shoulders and hummed softly, a little lullaby his ma used to sing him when he was sad. He didn’t remember the Italian lyrics but that hardly mattered. Gerard wept into Frank’s chest, making his shirt a quiet mess of dripping tears, mucus and saliva.
Frank pulled him back down to the bed and wrapped the blankets around them both. They stayed like that a long while, wrapped up in each other, trading body heat. Gerard sniffed loudly, breaking the silence. He didn’t move his head from Frank’s chest.
“I fucked up your shirt.” Tears and snot could still be heard clogging his throat.
Frank carefully pushed Gerard off. The injured look that filled the red head’s face was only there for a second- Frank pulled off the damp shirt and brought him back against his chest.
“There,” he murmured, “all dry.”
Gerard let out a shaky laugh and sniffed again. “I look like shit and my head hurts.”
Frank looked down at him. His eyes were swollen and blood shot, looking all the greener for it, and his nose was bright red, still running a little. His cheeks were streaked with damp. “Nah, you’re gorgeous.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Hush. I don’t feel like arguing.” He rubbed at his cheeks.
“I meant what I said, Gerard,” he whispered, suddenly afraid to speak very loud, “No one will hurt you like that again. I won’t let them.”
“Thank you,” he whispered back.
Time passed. Gerard’s breathing evened out and his grip around Frank’s waist eased up just a little. Frank’s eyes were drifting shut when the door eased open. He looked over to it.
“I’m gonna take your watch,” Kobra said, “Gerard’s too.” Then he left.
Frank wondered idly how much he’d heard then realized he didn’t quite care what anyone heard or thought of anything. The man that slept in his arms was more important.
Author:iron_fist123 and vinvy
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R (for language)
Summary: "Why don't you want Kobra to name his baby after you?"
Warnings: profanity, implied non-con, adult themes, drug use, angst, backstory
Disclaimer: Do not remove tag under penalty of law. None of this ever happened, thank you very much. We're glad it didn't.
(Previous Chapters)
Act 4
The wind roared outside, pitting the walls and glass of the diner. Dust was dripping through the seal around the door and through spots along the walls that had seemed impregnable.
Show Pony was on the first watch, gliding lazily around the diner’s main room with his flasher in hand. They would all take an hour that night. Sand storms were hellish and it was unwise to travel in them. That was no deterrent for roaming bands of Wave-Heads. The mutated humans ran great clubs but they were also the part of the reason the Fabulous Killjoys had such a reputation for violence- the gangs went around in bright colors, pillaging and causing chaos in the Zones. They liked nights like this the best for their games.
Frank was sandwiched into the twin bed in what he referred to in his head as the Art Room. The dim light from an overhead lamp was lulling. Poison was spooned up close behind him, his arm snug around his waist. He figured he could get used to this, the snuggling and the warmth and the feeling that he belonged somewhere. Before they’d crawled in bed Poison had hung his jacket and gun belt on the bed post beside Frank’s. He’d slipped out of his boots, too.
Frank was sleepily wondering if that meant anything when Poison whispered, “You still awake, Ghoul?”
“Mm? Yeah,” he said.
“Oh,” he breathed, tucking his face into Frank’s neck.
They stayed like that for a while, pressed close together under the thin cotton blanket. Poison’s breath on his neck made him shiver a bit, but that was just fine with him. It was good. Nice enough to make his skin all tingly but not be a complete turn on. Perfect to fall asleep to. His head was getting that fuzzy almost-asleep feeling and odd, colorful images were floating around behind his eyelids. Some bright sense of questioning jerked him out of it, though.
“Poison?”
“Yes?” He didn’t even sound tired.
“Why didn’t you…” Frank trailed off, a little unsure of how to ask.
“Why didn’t I what, Ghoul?”
“Why don’t you want Kobra to name his baby after you?”
“I’ve got a bad name. He doesn’t really want that kid to have my name, he just thinks he does.”
“I think your name is just fine-“
Poison hummed and nuzzled Frank. “Yeah, I know you do, and you say it so nicely.” He kissed the skin under his earlobe.
“I want to know-“
“Sh-”
“Please tell me?”
“You won’t understand, Ghoul,” there was acceptance and pain in his voice. He nibbled the place where Frank’s neck became his shoulder, “and that’s okay, sugar, it really is.”
Frank was frustrated to no end by this man. He souldn’t stand knowing that something was bothering him so much and not knowing the details. “No it is not!” He pulled Poison off of his neck by the hair. He was unprepared for the reaction he got.
Poison slapped his hand away and pulled back, moving far to the foot of the bed. “Don’t pull my fucking hair!” His voice was choked with panic. He’d pulled a switch blade out of nowhere and had it open, pointed at Frank. His hand was shaking.
Frank sat up slowly, holding his hands up in surrender. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
Panting, Poison closed the knife and returned it to his pocket. At length he spoke.“You want to know why that kid shouldn’t be named after me?”
“Yes, but only if you want to tell me, Poison. I didn’t mean to push you. I’m sorry.”
His face hidden by his hair but he held Frank with his eyes just the same. He could hardly breathe. His mind was being invaded by those eyes, probed- did Poison know what he was thinking? The man shifted and from behind the red hair there was a luminous flash of green-gold like a cat caught in a flashlight beam.
Frank gasped. That had to be a trick of the light. It had to be.
“Come here. I can’t look at you.”
Unsure Frank extracted himself from the covers, wondering exactly what the words meant. Poison was impatient. He wrapped his arms around Frank’s waist and pulled him onto his lap, hugging him like a child would a teddy bear and nuzzling the top of his head with his chin.
“It’s kind of a long story,” he murmured against Frank’s shoulder, “my story, that is, because it kind of goes back to when I was a kid… family history and whatnot…”
Frank gave Poison’s hand a gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure him somehow.
“My parents worked for Better Living Industries, Inc. when the company had just started out. Well, maybe you couldn’t call it that early but it was before it became the monster it is now. We lived in Battery Towers, pretty high up, too. Mikey and me ran amok up there sometimes. All the neighbors used to say we were full of venom and cyanide like it was cute or something. I think we were six when we started calling each other “Kobra” and “Poison”- it was some silly shit back then.
“My ma worked in the advertising department and my dad was an inventor. He was a good man. He worked on stuff for S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, developing new weapons that would stun and not kill, more advanced security systems. He designed and made new alloys to go into protective clothing. It was amazing to me, growing up, all the ideas that just poured out from his head like water. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.
“Dad had a friend named Korse. Just Korse. That’s how I always knew him. He was kind of a mentor for me, helping me out with math and stuff when my dad wasn’t around. He taught me to play chess, said I was clever and would make a good tactician one day, that I had Scarecrow potential and that I’d go to the top real fast, that I…that I was beautiful. I trusted him, Frankie, I really did…”
There was a long silence. Frank wanted to turn to see Gerard’s face, try to read the unreadable and give him some comfort where it was clearly needed. He did not like the sound of where this was going. Gerard tried to continue and failed to get words out several times.
“I- I was just a kid, like, eleven or some thing,” he spoke in a dry whisper, “I didn’t know… I thought… I d-didn’t realize… I’m sorry, Frankie, but I was just a kid. I swear I didn’t know better. It- It wasn’t my fault.”
The words rolled around in Frank’s head for a moment, confusing and stuttering in his thoughts. By the time the event they alluded to registered in his head, Poison had already moved on with his story, sounding relieved to do so. Frank didn’t have time to be enraged.
“… and then Mikey joined up. We both graduated from the Academy around the same time, top in each of our fields. Mikey, he was just seventeen then. He got the whole scary-brilliant mind thing from our dad. He took over where he left off when he started working at Scarecrow, pushing the science of defense and weaponry into new territory. He got into some serious biotech and I got to be his lab rat. It was kind of fun and wicked helpful.
“You see, Korse was training me for the field. I was going to be what most folks call Chief Exterminator, but it didn’t have the same meaning back then. It didn’t mean killing… So Mikey thought he’d help me out since tracking people isn’t so simple inside a city, not like a forest or the Zones where you can actually see tracks. He brought me up to his lab one day and told me he was going to do something to my eyes. I told him there was no way in hell that he was cutting into me but then I kinda passed out. He’d drugged me. He did some weird nano-technological shit to my retinas. I can see about twice as far as most humans, some weird x-ray type thing that comes and goes, too, and I can see temperature changes if I want. Mikey dumbed it down a bit when he sold it to BLI. He wanted his brother to be the only one out there that badass.” He chuckled to himself.
“So its true? Scarecrows’ eyes really glow like.. yours?”
“Yeah, but only in the right light and only if you get their masks off. The original idea was to have those soldiers be real humans- I would have been the first- but obviously things didn’t go according to plan. The idea got scrapped and now genetically altered sub-humans are used instead. Easier to control.”
Frank stayed silent. His question had already been answered and then some but he got the feeling Poison wasn’t done talking. He intended to let him finish.
“It was a long time before I came to terms with the fact that shit happened to me when I was a kid. I was really good at denying it. One day, though, I just woke up and something in my head had gotten switched off. It was all I could think about or hear or see when I closed my eyes, Korse and- and his hands and his- voice. It made me sick for a couple of weeks. Mikey didn’t know what to think when I didn’t show up for work or leave my apartment. He didn’t know about It. I never told anyone because I hadn’t realized it was bad… when I finally did I didn’t want anyone pitying me.
“I threw up until all I got up was stomach acid… showered about fifty fuckin’ times and I still couldn’t feel clean. I didn’t eat or sleep. I…” He drew a deep breath, “I tried to kill myself. Sleeping pills and a razor blade, you know…but Mikey’d fucked around with my DNA so I would heal faster. So, obviously, I didn’t die. It really pissed me off. I mean, I’d really wanted to die and I hadn’t and now somebody had to pay for it. I cleaned up my mess and called Korse. I was going to confront him, make him… I don’t know what I wanted him to do. Mostly apologize, I guess.”
Frank could feel Poison’s heart rate pick up against his back. He squeezed his hand again but said nothing. If he spoke he knew he’d scream. He’d break things. Demand that Poison tell him why in the hell he hadn’t said anything before. Why hadn’t he told anyone right after? Why hadn’t he gotten some fucking help? Why’d he let Korse get away with it? Those were things he knew he could not ask of the man who held him because he was pretty sure that Poison himself didn’t have the answers.
“We met up at this party at some fancy hotel and there was no real stealthy opportunity to talk. Just lots of mingling and socializing bullshit. He gave me champagne and I took it, trying to act normal. I was a fucking idiot to take it. He’d spiked it. He actually got me all the way up to his goddamn suite and out of my clothes before I could think straight enough to do anything about it.” He shook his head against Frank’s shoulder. “He had this... this thing for pulling my hair and stroking my face- he thought I was pretty. That kind of freaked me out. Bad, bad memories. I think I might have head butted him- I don’t remember it clearly. Knocked him out though.”
Frank would have liked to knock Korse out and then some. Spend a good while beating the ever loving shit out of him, make him regret even looking in Gerard’s direction.
“I tied him to the bed. I stole his car. It’s a miracle I didn’t run over anyone driving out of the city. Or maybe I did. I don’t remember it now. I know I bought about three cases of whiskey and several boxes of saltines from a liquor store on my way out of town. I started drinking when I reached Zone 1 and I didn’t stop for a couple of weeks. Maybe it was a month. Maybe longer than that even. Show Pony found me passed out in the car, half starved and shit faced. I may or may not have thrown up on him. I’m pretty sure I did though.
“I guess I’d gotten myself hooked on the whiskey- it was all I’d had to drink, ya know. Show Pony and D forced me to ride out the DTs and hallucinations, though, even when I tried to kill both of them. They fed me, kept me from offing myself or running away. When I finally sobered up, Pony told me about why they hadn’t left me for dead: Mikey had sent out a transmission to the whole pirate radio network. “This is Kobra Kid. Look alive, Poison, there ain’t a vice tab or fruit punch in the world that can save your soul. Got the Boogeyman after you. Mask up and stay off the grid. They’re comin’ for me. Godspeed. So long and goodnight.” Well, I just about shit when I heard that. I stole Pony’s fuckin’ pink flasher and went back into the city.
“I broke in to S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W HQ. Killed a few Dracs and some of the guys I was training. I got into the interrogation room easily. Mikey… they had him strapped to this chair and, well, you know how they do interrogations. Part of his skull was gone and there were these wires attached to his- his brain. Korse was standing there asking him where I was. He didn’t know. Korse hit a button on this remote that sent a current through the wires and Mikey had a seizure, I think.” He shifted uncomfortably, tensing at the memory. “Korse shot his arm full of something to pull him out of it and asked him again. Mikey must have seen me standing there or something because he just smirked like the little shit he can be sometimes. I shot Korse in the back. I don’t know why I didn’t shoot him in the head…He went down though, which is the important thing.
“Mikey was lucid which freaked me out because I thought he was going to die. His whole face was a wreck, his ribs were broken, so was one of his arms, he couldn’t walk too good… not to mention the exposed chunk of his... brain. He told how to put his head back together and shit, had me stitch the skin back on.” Poison swallowed audibly.
Frank sympathized- just hearing about it was making him nauseous.
“When I untied him he went over to this cabinet in the corner and started throwing bottles at me, then shoved this fat syringe into his arm. It was full of ephedrine. I’m surprised it didn’t stop his heart. To make a long and boring chase scene short, we drove back out to the desert as fast as Korse’s fucking car would take us. D had a different safe house back then and we lived there for a year while Mikey recovered. So I wouldn’t go nuts waiting I painted Korse’s car, plastered it with whatever stickers Show Pony brought back for me. I hate the color white, really I do...
“Mikey... wasn’t ever the same- he turned into the man you know now, quiet, angry. He won’t talk about what Korse did to him but Kandy might know- he trusts her. I think you know the rest from there. Spying and stealing for D, blowing shit up whenever we have the chance, helping out people who got chased out of the city and recruiting some new members for the Fabulous Killjoys along the way. I’m the most wanted man around.
“There are a lot of reasons for the kid not to be named after me,” he concluded firmly, sounding like he’d joined the present again. “I’ve killed people and people want to kill me. They kill or kidnap my family members. My face is posted on every major wanted-dead-or-alive list. There’s so much emotional and political bullshit attached to my name... I don’t want to pass it on to some innocent little baby. It’s like condemning them before they even start. That kid does not need my shit.”
The silence was heavy. The wind had stopped. Frank thought the quiet would crush him. Something wet dripped down onto his cheek. Again. And again. Steadily.
Frank’ heart broke. Gerard was crying, trying not to be noticed. He kept his eyes closed because of that. He turned around, sat up on his knees and pulled him into a tight hug.
“No one will ever hurt you like that again,” Frank rasped out, “I promise. I won’t let them. And that kid, that kid’s gonna turn out just fine even if they name it after you. You’re- you’re amazing. It’ll all be okay.”
Gerard tried to make a sound of consent but it came out as a sob. He shook, trying to restrain himself and doing a poor job of it. Crying was not something he’d made a habit of in the last decade. Frank ran a gentle hand over his shoulders and hummed softly, a little lullaby his ma used to sing him when he was sad. He didn’t remember the Italian lyrics but that hardly mattered. Gerard wept into Frank’s chest, making his shirt a quiet mess of dripping tears, mucus and saliva.
Frank pulled him back down to the bed and wrapped the blankets around them both. They stayed like that a long while, wrapped up in each other, trading body heat. Gerard sniffed loudly, breaking the silence. He didn’t move his head from Frank’s chest.
“I fucked up your shirt.” Tears and snot could still be heard clogging his throat.
Frank carefully pushed Gerard off. The injured look that filled the red head’s face was only there for a second- Frank pulled off the damp shirt and brought him back against his chest.
“There,” he murmured, “all dry.”
Gerard let out a shaky laugh and sniffed again. “I look like shit and my head hurts.”
Frank looked down at him. His eyes were swollen and blood shot, looking all the greener for it, and his nose was bright red, still running a little. His cheeks were streaked with damp. “Nah, you’re gorgeous.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Hush. I don’t feel like arguing.” He rubbed at his cheeks.
“I meant what I said, Gerard,” he whispered, suddenly afraid to speak very loud, “No one will hurt you like that again. I won’t let them.”
“Thank you,” he whispered back.
Time passed. Gerard’s breathing evened out and his grip around Frank’s waist eased up just a little. Frank’s eyes were drifting shut when the door eased open. He looked over to it.
“I’m gonna take your watch,” Kobra said, “Gerard’s too.” Then he left.
Frank wondered idly how much he’d heard then realized he didn’t quite care what anyone heard or thought of anything. The man that slept in his arms was more important.