Gloves

“I've had it with being nice, understanding, fair and hopeful. I feel like being negative all day. The chip on my shoulder could sink the QE2. I've got an attitude problem and nobody better get in my way...I'm in a bad mood and the whole stupid little world is gonna pay!”
― John Waters, Crackpot: The Obsessions of John Waters

"What in the hell is this?!" Gerard snarled, slamming his small silver phone onto the table harshly, receiving a resounding snap from somewhere inside the device. Ineffable anger flooded his veins, causing a short, sharp cry to escape his lips, almost like an animal's strangled attack call, red eyes flaring into something of the likes of what one might find in Hell.
Mikey winced at the severe sound, gazing at his brother with worried eyes. Gerard was a very aggressive individual, that was for sure. But he usually did not take his completely unreasonable anger out on his necessities. "I don't know, Gerard. Let me see," demanded the little brother, holding his hand out, palm-up and expectant.
The phone landed with a smack on Mikey's hand, eliciting a yelp from the thin boy. His brother said nothing, continuing to stare at the ground, a hard and enraged expression layered over his usual apathetic one. He looked down at the object in his grasp.
Unknown Number:
Hello, Gerard.
I want to play a game.
Bring your little friend, too.
He will be an entertaining toy.
Shocked colored Mikey's face. Gerard's ability was not exactly a secret in their little town; anyone in touch with the police would know about it. The boy who had attacked Frank -- a one Fredrick Annily -- happened to be the Deputy Chief's son. And Gerard used that to his advantage.
But, as he is known for his deadly properties, no one would dare mettle with his loved-ones. This included the boy he had developed a strong loyalty over.
"Gerard," he breathed. "Get Frank over here now."
"Way ahead of you."
...
Frank knocked on the door quickly before shoving his hands back into his pockets. He glanced around the slightly dilapidated house while he waited for someone to answer. The windowsills were dirty and the siding was chipped and scratched. The door was a fading blue with a rusty iron knocker in the shape of Odin's head hanging from it. A flower bed sat next to the little stair case, wilted and--
He was yanked into the house quickly, the door slamming behind him. Gerard had a grip on him by the shoulders, eyes wide and searching for something that was not there. "Whoa, Gerard! What's up?" asked Frank, blinking rapidly.
"Are you okay? No one followed you, correct?" His questions were shot off in quick succession, red eyes darker than usual.
Startled by the questions, Frank simply shook his head. Promptly, he was swept into a basement where Mikey sat, staring at what he recognized as Gerard's phone with confusion. He had a phone book opened next to him and he flipped the page once.
He looked up when the two boys tumbled into the room clumsily. "Yellow Pages isn't working, Gerard. It's taking to long."
Frank frowned. "Whatever it is, it can be solved by the Internet."
Mikey snapped his fingers.
Gerard sighed rather loudly.

Notes

'Nother SAW reference, huh? It was unintentional, too. And those Spanish skills, damn.
Tell me, my loyal readers, who is YOUR favorite band, sans My Chemical Romance? Because duh.
Mine is a tie between Three Days Grace (before the parting of Adam) and Finger Eleven.
Comment and subscribe and shit.
-Stitches