Devil in Jersey city. (3/?)
Title: Devil in Jersey city. (3/?)
Author:
miss_kelsi_alix
Pairing: Predominantly: Frank/Mikey - So Far also featuring: Jepha & Quinn.
Rating: Nc17
Summary: Lucifer is looking for his next victim, and we all know - no body denies the devil.
Dedications: Ele;
pieces_of_ele for being a fucking excellent beta and friend, and helping me out with all the little things that just didn’t seem to be working, & for Miss Mayo;
bad_mayonnaise because, well I just fucking love this girl.
Disclaimer: If you believe this shit... Well, I’m sorry but there is nothing anyone can do to help you. No sue. Title and cut line credit to Coheed and Cambria.
A/n: This is so very AU (alternate universe) & like most of my current works, turned out nothing like I was planning.
Let’s clear a few things up.
Mikey is the Devil. Jepha is his sidekick/assistant. Frank is an innocent young boy.
Also I am well aware that Frank’s name is not Francis, but for the purpose of this - it will be.
/ Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 /
Your day is filled with the mediocre tasks that you sit through every day. The time drags by slowly, and you would think that with all the people, skills, and powers you have at your disposal, life wouldn’t be this dull. But in reality, this shit isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Honestly, how long do you have to stand beside Saint-fucking-Peter (the sneaky old bastard) before it starts to get old?
How he ever got the keys to heaven is beyond you anyway. He tries to cheat you out of everyone; liars, criminals, the whole bloody lot. He seems to think heaven has a place for them all, what with his kind spirit and forgiving nature. It makes you sick. Thankfully, God has laid down a few ground rules, because otherwise you’re sure Peter would let the whole lot through, and you would get nothing, not even the chump change.
You can just imagine what he will be like when he sees dear innocent little Frankie with his shinning eyes and angelic features. But here’s news for you buddy; that boy is yours, fair and fucking square. Well, he will be.
He won’t be pure for much longer, and by the time you are done with him there will be no way God will risk tainting his paradise with your dirty little Frankie.
Eventually, it’s nightfall up above and you decide you can’t hang on any longer, you have got to see him. Jeph can stay behind tonight, you don’t need him. Anyway, it’s probably all his fault, he probably scared the kid.
You arrive in Frankie’s bedroom and look around, he’s not there. Where the fuck is he?
You wait for awhile, but he doesn’t show up. You would go check the rest of the house, but you really don’t want to run into any damn interfering parents. It’s not like they can harm you, but it’s easier not to have to deal with them at all.
After an hour you’re starting to get really pissed off, so you take the liberty of showing yourself around his room. It’s disgustingly clean and you wonder if Mommy still tidies up for him. This kid needs help, he needs to break free and live a little (well, in the seven days he has left) and you’re more than willing to help him.
You search through his closet and are surprised when at the back, on the ground, behind the neatly hung school uniforms, the perfectly pressed dress pants and crisp white shirts, lye a pair of scungy old black jeans. Rips in the knees and another slightly higher up the right leg, obviously these pants are well worn and much loved, and it’s thrilling to think that there is hope for this kid yet.
His music collection holds even more promise. The kid doesn’t have bad taste, which just infuriates you more.
Seriously, where is he? And what is wrong with him? Why won’t he take this deal? He’s not as good as he makes out to be, if he listens to these sorts of lyrics.
Eventually you reach his desk, nothing exciting here. But the calendar hanging above it answers at least one question - school camp.
School-fucking-camp.
Shit. He certainly won’t be back tonight. Doesn’t that just piss you off?
It certainly puts a spanner in the works, you’re fucking ropeable to say the least. For the next twenty four hours you won’t get to see him. You had it all worked out too, seven days to go; easy, you could convince the fucking pope in that amount of time. However, now you are a day down, this might pose a problem.
You go back home thoroughly pissed off, instruct Jeph that he is in charge of everything, and return to your bedroom to sulk for the next twenty four hours. You don’t bother doing anything, or thinking about anything… other than Frankie.
At least you find yourself using your time mildly productively, seeing as though he’s being stubborn you have decided you might just have to tempt him with a few things, show him what he’s missing out on. Parties, cars, girls (or boys) and drugs, you’ll show him the lot.
Maybe he’s not missing out after all; he’s got six days left and then one incredible prize waiting for him at the end of it, certainly better than sticking around and getting old, decrepit and boring.
“Frankie, honey,” You croon to yourself. “You have no idea what you are in for.”