TS: The Black Parade and What Came After [MCR] part 3
Notes and warnings are in part one.
Part one// Part two
~~~
Gerard tosses his bags into his bunk and walks back out into the lounge. Something about the lounge is different; he looks around and realizes there aren’t any rogue Red Bull empties to trip over.
“What the fuck? Did someone clean?”
Mikey rolls his eyes. “Do you ever listen? Brian told us that he was using the break to get a cleaning crew in here.”
Gerard is positive Brian said nothing about cleaning crews and is about to say so, when Mikey rolls his eyes. Again.
“Don’t worry, Gee. All you shit’s in your bunk,” Bob says.
Gerard frowns, and turns to go double-check. There was a stack of sketches he’d been making on the backs of venues flyers that might look like trash, but are a comic book idea he's considering...
Mikey reaches over and wraps his fingers loosely around his wrist before Gerard could get far.
“Play poker with me.”
“What, so you can kick my ass?”
“Gee…”
“Fine.”
They settle in to play and Gerard does well enough that he starts to get suspicious. Mikey just arches an eyebrow at him and deals another hand. The vibration of tires on asphalt is lulling; after the next hand (which he loses rather spectacularly), he slumps down against Frank. Tinny music from Ray’s headphones gives the road song a proper melody. Gerard falls hard into sleep.
Tension is crackling in the air and it wakes him from uneasy dreams. Frank, who had been carding his fingers through Gerard’s hair, stills. Gerard struggles to sit upright, and looks out the window. He’s slept for a while; the highway they’re heading up is hemmed in by mountains.
“Mikey,” he says. It feels like his words are slow to surface, like he’s speaking underwater.
Mikey is huddled up against the window, his eyes focused on the road. “There was a detour while you were sleeping.” Mikey’s voice is tight. “There are tunnels on this road.”
“Oh.” Gerard pulls himself to wakefulness and starts shuffling the cards. Mikey looks grateful for the distraction and they start the game up again. But it’s obvious that Mikey’s thoughts are elsewhere.
The road unspools before them, mile upon twisting mile. The mountains press closer, peaks jagged against an overcast sky. Gerard hasn’t seen another vehicle since he woke up.
Around another turn and they are heading directly towards the rocky side of a mountain, the mouth of a tunnel marked out in brick and sodium lights. They drive in
are swallowed up
and Gerard shudders as the darkness drops around them. He shifts closer to Frank on the seat and focuses on the line of lights running along the top of the tunnel.
They abruptly go out.
The bus lights follow.
“Fuck!” Gerard says, straining to see anything in the pitch dark. But there’s no light at all.
What happened to the headlights !?
With a squeal of rubber, the bus starts to fishtail.
“Hang on,” Mikey says, his voice calm.
Frank wraps an arm around Gerard, and holds on tight.
A strange, bluish-grey light limns the bus’ interior. Gerard stares at his brother; Mikey’s eyes are closed, one hand grips the table in front of him, the other reaches out, fingers spread wide. Playing cards slide along the table in a waxed hiss, cascading to the floor. There’s the sudden horrific shriek of metal shredding and Mikey.
closes.
his.
fingers.
into.
a fist.
and PULLS.
The entire world slides sideways.
Gerard can’t look away from Mikey - he’s grimacing, fist clenched, all the muscles in his neck cording as he struggles against some unseen force. And the world slides back.
The rear wheel slams into the tunnel wall, tumbling them across the lounge. Gerard’s flung free of Frank as the bus flips over on its side and slides along the road, throwing up bright sparks in its wake. Gerard hits the window, jamming his shoulder against the glass. He bites his lip, blood a coppery burst on his tongue. As if first blood was a signal, a bright burning rushes along his skin. He has enough time to think So this is what it feels like to be burned alive. Then the fire burrows in and he can’t think. He hears glass shattering, and in a sickening echo, feels something inside him snap. Before Gerard could do more than gasp in agony, a bright, sparking force shoved itself into the break, cauterizing it. He gasped again, at the sudden absence of pain. The bus hits a concrete barrier, caving in the wall next to the fridge, and shudders to an abrupt stop.
Darkness and quiet return with equal abruptness. The air is thick with the acrid reek of burning rubber and exhaust.
“Is everyone okay?” There’s a horrible tension in Mikey’s voice.
Gerard presses against his previous pain and finds a whisper, a fading memory of agony. He can’t even feel a cut in his mouth, though the taste of blood is heavy on his tongue.
“Yeah,” he says, voice faint with disbelief.
The others echo him, sounding shaky but otherwise okay. Gerard hears fumbling, the slide of wood on wood, and the sudden pop and cool blue light of a glow stick. Mikey glances around, his eyes reflecting the blue light.
“Bob, bunks?”
“Done.”
“Frank, cupboards?”
“Fucking bare, man.”
Mikey nods. “Grab your bags. We have to get moving.”
There’s a steely note of command in Mikey’s voice that has Gerard moving, pulling on his jacket and slinging the bags, strapped securely together, over his shoulder and taking a second bundle from Frank.
“What about the driver?” Ray asks.
Mikey looks at Frank. He moved past Mikey, climbing with a speed and agility that was uncanny in its silence. He’s back before worry can do more than knot a tendril around Gerard’s gut. Frank’s face is white, ghostly in the blue light, and he’s breathing through his mouth.
“He’s dead. Let’s get out of here.”
“Are you sure?” Gerard asks.
Frank shudders. “Yes. There’s a piece of the door through his neck. Lots of blood,” he says. “And the door’s blocked.”
"Fuck," Ray mutters.
“I got it.” Bob says.
Bob braces himself against the table and kicks at the window glass - two solid kicks and it falls from the frame, shattering on the pavement. They drop the bags out first, following quickly after. There’s a flare of grey-blue light and vicious swearing as Mikey drops the glow stick on his way out the window. Bob snaps a fresh one on wordlessly.
Gerard is careful climbing down, trying to not think about how easily metal and glass slices through flesh. He stands on the road, heart hammering away in his chest.
“What about…”
“Gee, we have to go. Can’t you smell the gas?” Mikey asks.
And he can- the sharp tang of gasoline catches in the back of his throat, making him cough. There’s another efficient flurry of motion, the adjustment of straps and bags with little conversation. Gerard finds himself in the middle of the group, Mikey before him, Bob behind, Frank to the right, Ray to the left- all of them hauling ass away from the wreckage. The only sound in the darkness aside from their footsteps is the tick and settling of overheated metal behind them.
“Come on. We have to get far away…” Mikey says.
“But...”
“Gee, we are in a tunnel. A car could come.”
Fuck. “Fuck.”
~~~
Part Four
Part one// Part two
~~~
Gerard tosses his bags into his bunk and walks back out into the lounge. Something about the lounge is different; he looks around and realizes there aren’t any rogue Red Bull empties to trip over.
“What the fuck? Did someone clean?”
Mikey rolls his eyes. “Do you ever listen? Brian told us that he was using the break to get a cleaning crew in here.”
Gerard is positive Brian said nothing about cleaning crews and is about to say so, when Mikey rolls his eyes. Again.
“Don’t worry, Gee. All you shit’s in your bunk,” Bob says.
Gerard frowns, and turns to go double-check. There was a stack of sketches he’d been making on the backs of venues flyers that might look like trash, but are a comic book idea he's considering...
Mikey reaches over and wraps his fingers loosely around his wrist before Gerard could get far.
“Play poker with me.”
“What, so you can kick my ass?”
“Gee…”
“Fine.”
They settle in to play and Gerard does well enough that he starts to get suspicious. Mikey just arches an eyebrow at him and deals another hand. The vibration of tires on asphalt is lulling; after the next hand (which he loses rather spectacularly), he slumps down against Frank. Tinny music from Ray’s headphones gives the road song a proper melody. Gerard falls hard into sleep.
Tension is crackling in the air and it wakes him from uneasy dreams. Frank, who had been carding his fingers through Gerard’s hair, stills. Gerard struggles to sit upright, and looks out the window. He’s slept for a while; the highway they’re heading up is hemmed in by mountains.
“Mikey,” he says. It feels like his words are slow to surface, like he’s speaking underwater.
Mikey is huddled up against the window, his eyes focused on the road. “There was a detour while you were sleeping.” Mikey’s voice is tight. “There are tunnels on this road.”
“Oh.” Gerard pulls himself to wakefulness and starts shuffling the cards. Mikey looks grateful for the distraction and they start the game up again. But it’s obvious that Mikey’s thoughts are elsewhere.
The road unspools before them, mile upon twisting mile. The mountains press closer, peaks jagged against an overcast sky. Gerard hasn’t seen another vehicle since he woke up.
Around another turn and they are heading directly towards the rocky side of a mountain, the mouth of a tunnel marked out in brick and sodium lights. They drive in
are swallowed up
and Gerard shudders as the darkness drops around them. He shifts closer to Frank on the seat and focuses on the line of lights running along the top of the tunnel.
They abruptly go out.
The bus lights follow.
“Fuck!” Gerard says, straining to see anything in the pitch dark. But there’s no light at all.
What happened to the headlights !?
With a squeal of rubber, the bus starts to fishtail.
“Hang on,” Mikey says, his voice calm.
Frank wraps an arm around Gerard, and holds on tight.
A strange, bluish-grey light limns the bus’ interior. Gerard stares at his brother; Mikey’s eyes are closed, one hand grips the table in front of him, the other reaches out, fingers spread wide. Playing cards slide along the table in a waxed hiss, cascading to the floor. There’s the sudden horrific shriek of metal shredding and Mikey.
closes.
his.
fingers.
into.
a fist.
and PULLS.
The entire world slides sideways.
Gerard can’t look away from Mikey - he’s grimacing, fist clenched, all the muscles in his neck cording as he struggles against some unseen force. And the world slides back.
The rear wheel slams into the tunnel wall, tumbling them across the lounge. Gerard’s flung free of Frank as the bus flips over on its side and slides along the road, throwing up bright sparks in its wake. Gerard hits the window, jamming his shoulder against the glass. He bites his lip, blood a coppery burst on his tongue. As if first blood was a signal, a bright burning rushes along his skin. He has enough time to think So this is what it feels like to be burned alive. Then the fire burrows in and he can’t think. He hears glass shattering, and in a sickening echo, feels something inside him snap. Before Gerard could do more than gasp in agony, a bright, sparking force shoved itself into the break, cauterizing it. He gasped again, at the sudden absence of pain. The bus hits a concrete barrier, caving in the wall next to the fridge, and shudders to an abrupt stop.
Darkness and quiet return with equal abruptness. The air is thick with the acrid reek of burning rubber and exhaust.
“Is everyone okay?” There’s a horrible tension in Mikey’s voice.
Gerard presses against his previous pain and finds a whisper, a fading memory of agony. He can’t even feel a cut in his mouth, though the taste of blood is heavy on his tongue.
“Yeah,” he says, voice faint with disbelief.
The others echo him, sounding shaky but otherwise okay. Gerard hears fumbling, the slide of wood on wood, and the sudden pop and cool blue light of a glow stick. Mikey glances around, his eyes reflecting the blue light.
“Bob, bunks?”
“Done.”
“Frank, cupboards?”
“Fucking bare, man.”
Mikey nods. “Grab your bags. We have to get moving.”
There’s a steely note of command in Mikey’s voice that has Gerard moving, pulling on his jacket and slinging the bags, strapped securely together, over his shoulder and taking a second bundle from Frank.
“What about the driver?” Ray asks.
Mikey looks at Frank. He moved past Mikey, climbing with a speed and agility that was uncanny in its silence. He’s back before worry can do more than knot a tendril around Gerard’s gut. Frank’s face is white, ghostly in the blue light, and he’s breathing through his mouth.
“He’s dead. Let’s get out of here.”
“Are you sure?” Gerard asks.
Frank shudders. “Yes. There’s a piece of the door through his neck. Lots of blood,” he says. “And the door’s blocked.”
"Fuck," Ray mutters.
“I got it.” Bob says.
Bob braces himself against the table and kicks at the window glass - two solid kicks and it falls from the frame, shattering on the pavement. They drop the bags out first, following quickly after. There’s a flare of grey-blue light and vicious swearing as Mikey drops the glow stick on his way out the window. Bob snaps a fresh one on wordlessly.
Gerard is careful climbing down, trying to not think about how easily metal and glass slices through flesh. He stands on the road, heart hammering away in his chest.
“What about…”
“Gee, we have to go. Can’t you smell the gas?” Mikey asks.
And he can- the sharp tang of gasoline catches in the back of his throat, making him cough. There’s another efficient flurry of motion, the adjustment of straps and bags with little conversation. Gerard finds himself in the middle of the group, Mikey before him, Bob behind, Frank to the right, Ray to the left- all of them hauling ass away from the wreckage. The only sound in the darkness aside from their footsteps is the tick and settling of overheated metal behind them.
“Come on. We have to get far away…” Mikey says.
“But...”
“Gee, we are in a tunnel. A car could come.”
Fuck. “Fuck.”
~~~
Part Four