Book Two: Forget About It

“Fuck,” Gerard thinks furiously, and curses all the times he yelled at Frank for being a shit. If he could’ve at least held his temper, they’d have backup right about now.

Frank looks like he feels. They both have the same desire to go running back inside and drag everyone out by their ear. He pats his pockets, tensing when he feels the gun stowed away there. He prays to any and all deities, from any and all religions, that they get out of this without having to use them.

Gerard thinks about calling the bomb squad because usually when there’s a bomb that needs disabling, you should call the people who deal with bombs for a living. Kind of like the Ghostbusters. You should generally call the department who has jurisdiction, and prior knowledge of the situation at hand. Were the problem a poltergeist, you would call the Ghostbusters. For bombs, it’s the bomb squad.

Gerard quickly realizes that he left his phone inside the house, and there’s no way he could pull that off without alerting the three people in front of him anyway. He feels dread settle in his stomach. They have no one or nothing to lean back on. It’s all on them.

“Baby, it’s our anniversary!” Frank says pouting like he’s disappointed, his voice trembling almost unnoticeably at the word ‘baby.’ Gerard understands completely, the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He doesn’t like pet names to begin with, but when it’s Frank handing them out, it’s a million times worse.

“If we don’t go somewhere we’ll just have to celebrate someway else,” Frank continues, licking his lips and trailing his finger down Gerard’s arm suggestively.

Gerard turns red and almost chokes when Frank slides his hand obviously into his free back pocket. Gerard has to fight off the instinct to throw Frank across the street and slap him repeatedly on the face. He grits his teeth, and tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen Frank naked and vice versa.

“We’ll go out to eat don’t worry,” Gerard says, turning to put his arm around Frank reluctantly. Frank leans into it and puts his head on Gerard’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s waist slowly. Gerard wants to puke because Frank is really warm, and smells nice, but he hates that he likes the way it feels when Frank is draped around him like that.

“Do you guys know any place-”

“No, sorry,” the biggest man says, smiling forcibly, obviously trying to get them to leave. Gerard see’s that they’re almost finished loading the truck and scrambles for anything to prolong the inevitable.

“Are you sure? It’s actually our fifth year together, and we wanted to do something really special,” Gerard randomly declares, with the intent of being that annoying couple everyone knows who throw out unnecessary information. “I actually love telling the story! We met at this bar-”

“And he was so nervous, bless him. Almost dead on his feet. Poor thing,” Frank interrupts, turning to grin at Gerard, relating it to the first time they actually met. Gerard smiles tightly at the edges, and forces himself to laugh.

“Yes, I was wasn’t I? And so I went to, like to buy him a drink, because that’s what you do, and guess what he said? He said-”

“Listen. We are very busy right now, and would appreciate it if you left. Right now,” Mr. Comb Over says stalking up to them. Frank looks behind them, and pales when he notices they’ve finished loading up the truck.

“Oh shit,” Frank thinks. “We’re going to die. We’re all going to die. I’m too young to die. I should’ve called my mom back last week. Oh god. I’m never going to see my best friend again. I’ll never be able to tell Gerard that I hate his guts again! I’m never going to see the new Star Wars Movies. That’s actually a relief if I’m being honest.”

Frank almost blows his cover by screaming or something ridiculous like that, when Gerard speaks, “Oh, it won’t take up anytime at all. It’ll just be a second. Do you guys know where the nearest bakery is? If you can’t recommend any restaurants we could just pick up a cake on the way-”

“If you don’t get off my property I’m going to call the cops. Now beat it, faggots,” he stands close enough to look down on Gerard with their chests almost touching. Gerard stares at him for a second before smirking, and in a flash, his arm disappears off of Frank’s shoulder. The three men, all of whom have made it onto Gerard’s list, look to see he’s holding up his badge. Frank is also on Gerard’s list, but he’s not as high up.

“Special agent Gerard Way at your service gentlemen. I know you wanted to talk to the cops, but maybe I can be of some assistance. This here is my totally platonic partner special agent Frank Iero, and we have reason to believe that you’re in possession of enough explosives to take out a city block,” Gerard says. He can’t stop his tongue from adding the ‘totally platonic’ thing, because he wants to reassure everyone, including himself, that they’re not actually dating.

The man looks at him like he’s insane for a moment, and studies the badge for a very long moment, before he steps back and raises an eyebrow. Gerard thought the dramatic reveal would hold more weight than this, but Mr. Comb Over looks incredibly unimpressed.

“I expected more of a reaction,” Gerard says to himself, “but you do realize that I’m going to ask you to put your hands up so that I can send you to jail for a very very long time, right? Like, that didn’t get lost on you, did it?”

“You have a warrant?” he asks.

“I have probable cause.”

“You still need a warrant even if you have probable cause,” Mr. Comb Over says.

Gerard’s eyebrows furrow together, because he’s been in this job for a long time now, and he’s absolutely positive that’s not true. Under some circumstances, not often, but exceptional circumstances such as this, he has every right to conduct a search without a warrant. His probable cause is pretty damn justified. Now if Gerard threw a brick through the window of that house and started looking around, it wouldn’t hold up in court, but he’s literally looking at a car filled with bombs, so he’s got the justice system by his side on this one.

“You sir, no very little about the American legal system, but it’s okay, because you’ll have plenty of time to brush up on it when you’re on trial.”

“It seems to me that you’ve misjudged your standings, officer.”

“That’s special agent to you!” Gerard corrects, and he has no idea why he’s being so technical.

“Whatever. I’m the one with the bombs,” Mr. Comb Over says.

“Well, look at it this way,” Gerard says, reaching around his back and grabbing his gun, “I’m the one with the gun, and the training with how to deal with bombs. And I’m really fucking pissed off today, so I’d appreciate it if you would stand down.”

“I’m the one with the bombs,” the man repeats with a glint in his eyes, like he’s enjoying this. The two men behind him both look pretty stunned. They’re both standing far enough away from the truck at the moment, that if they were to make an attempt to grab one, Gerard could shoot before they got there. Mr. Comb Over is a little too close to the car for Gerard’s liking though.

“You can say that all you want, but it’s not going to boost your credentials at all,” Gerard says, “I can’t let you leave this driveway, sir. I’m going to ask you to put your hands up, but you strike me as a guy who does not respect authority all that much.”

“Really? And I was trying so hard to hide it,” Mr. Comb Over says. Gerard starts disliking him even more, because on top of being a potential mass murderer, sociopath, and nightmare hair-stylist, he’s also a snarky little bitch.

“You make my job a million times harder, you know that? Listen, I’m not going to let you leave with that number of explosives, end of story. I’m just not going to let it happen. You’re threatening not only everyone on this street, but yourself and associates included, so if you just put your hands up right now, things will be a lot less messy, okay?”

“But we both know I’m not going to do that.”

“I have a gun though, and right now you’re threatening my personal safety, as well as my partners and everyone on this block. So either you show me your hands, or I show your friends what the inside of your cranium looks like.”

“You don’t want to do that.”

“Oh I don’t?” Gerard asks. He looks over to Frank as if to ask for backup, but he’s cowering like a little kid in a haunted house who lost his parents. Gerard scolds him and gives him an evil look, to tell him to at least get his gun out for god’s sake. Frank hesitates, but reaches for his weapon, and then holds it out with a shaky grip that would intimidate no one. Gerard wants to shoot Frank right now, because the safety is still on, so he might as well be holding a water pistol for all the good it will do him if things happen quickly.

“You really don’t,” Mr. Comb Over says, and then he unveils some weaponry of his own in the form of, predictably, a bomb. “You shoot me, I drop this, and everyone on this street goes down.”

“I really dislike you,” Gerard hisses at him. He looks at the bomb in his hand, a scrappily made pipe bomb. It may be shitty in quality, but if it was made properly, it will still do the trick. Gerard would really rather not find out if it was made properly or not.

“Well then, we’ve reached an impasse. I am not going to let you out of this driveway for the life of me, and you’re not going to come quietly,” Gerard says.

“I have much more in my defense though, so who’s got the upper hand? Me, with my dozens of bombs, and two able bodied allies, or you with your little gun, and little kid who hasn’t taken his gun off safety,” Mr. Comb Over says.

Gerard huffs and looks over at Frank like this is all his fault. Frank’s eyes widen to really solidify his puniness, and Gerard wonders what he ever did to get stuck in such an awful position. He would literally take a chipmunk with a machinegun over Frank.

“Let me lay this out for you though,” Gerard says, and then he looks behind Mr. Comb Over at the two men behind him. The bigger man is well into his forties, and he doesn’t have the most kind looking mannerism about him. He doesn’t look easily intimidated, and for the time being, Gerard’s going to forget about him. The other guy is young though, he can’t be any older than Gerard, so he’s around twenty five. He looks a lot less confident than the other two as well, so Gerard knows the second he lays eyes on the guy that he’s found the weak link. If he’s going to get to one of them, he’s going to get to the young guy.

“I want you to think about what you’re doing,” Gerard says, and he’s looking at Mr. Comb Over, but he’s speaking to the youngest guy, “I’m a federal agent. You know what that means? Already, you’re in a worse boat then if I were NYPD, but I’m not. Federal prison is a completely different thing then state prison. I’m going to lay out your future for you, if I can. Right now, where we’re standing, you’re looking at a minimum of 30 years, no ifs, ands, or buts. There is no way in hell you will serve any less than 30 years. That is my guarantee. If your bomb results in even one fatality, you can say goodbye to freedom. You will serve life, no question. If either my partner or I die, you will get both prison and the risk of a nice cocktail of Sodium thiopental, pancuronium bromide and potassium chloride. If more than one person dies the same applies to if one of us dies. Your only chance, and I do mean, only chance is if you surrender to federal custody now. I can offer you a deal to reduce your sentence, but only if you take it. That’s all I can offer you. I don’t want to see anybody dead, but I’m not going to let you hurt a bunch of innocent people.”

“You seem to think I don’t know the risks,” Mr. Comb Over says, “and I don’t intend to serve any sentence.”

“I know you don’t,” Gerard says, because that was always something he assumed. This is a suicide mission, Mr. Comb Over knows that, but the question is whether his partners do.

“I don’t want you to ruin your life,” Gerard says, shaking his head, “I’ve done this job for several years, and I’ve seen so many people throw all their potential down the drain, because they didn’t think things through, and I just want you to reconsider. I’m not the guy that talks people down from this, I’m just a field agent. I run a really fucking dysfunctional team with a bunch of weirdos who barely listen to me, but I still believe that people are good. I don’t believe that you’re all awful people, I believe that life’s got you in a bad place right now, but I don’t think that means you have to throw it all away. You can still have a life, but only if you take my deal now. As much as this offer is about my hope for the well-being of innocent civilians, it’s also for you. I’m a cynic, and I’ll admit to that. I’m a bit of a pessimist, and I’ve seen so many shitty things in my life, it would fuel the nightmares of Hannibal Lecter, but I still don’t want you ruining your life.”

Frank is honestly astounded that Gerard is so good with words, because he almost feels like surrendering to the guy right now. His fear is still there, but now there’s a little bit of hope that maybe one of the three men in front of him can find their humanity.

“Those were all very beautiful words, but I’m going to have to decline,” Mr. Comb Over says.

“I’m disappointed to hear that, but I wasn’t really talking to you,” Gerard says, and then he directs his gaze directly at the youngest. “Listen, I know that sometimes people give you these tantalizing offers, and it’s hard to turn them down, but you have to realize that you don’t need to be this person. You’ve got the most life ahead of you. You’ve got the most to lose. These guys, they don’t care about you. They’re not your friends. I’m the only friend you’ve got right now, because I don’t believe you’re a bad human being, I believe that you’re lost, and that you’re scared. I’m trying to offer you your life, and you’re not going to get a better deal than the one I’m offering you now.”

“Why should I listen to you?” he asks, speaking up for the first time.

“Because I’m the one offering you life. These guys will throw you away like you’re nothing, but I’m the one who’s asking you if you want to live after today. If you don’t want to live, then fine, go ahead, set these bombs off, but if you do, then I’m here to offer you a way out.”

Mr. Comb Over turns his head for only a second, because he can’t look away from Gerard for too long, but he does look back for a moment. Long enough to give the young guy a look of complete disgust.

Gerard continues, because he’s pretty sure he’s spiked the young guys interest, he just needs to seal the deal, “It’s embarrassing to be the guy to give up, and I know that, but what’s worse? Being the guy who walks away from the plans, or being the guy who dies because of peer pressure.”

Frank decides that he’s of no use right now. Gerard’s in his element, and he knows what he’s doing. Frank can only get in the way. Then he realizes that he does raise no threat, so that means no one is actually looking at him. He’s basically not even here right now. Frank reaches around his back for his phone, and feels relief when he finds it in his back pocket. He can’t do much to help right now, but he can call for help. No one is looking his way, so this is what he has to offer. Inconspicuously, Frank peers at his phone and scrolls through the contact list until he finds someone helpful. Brendon will work. He calls Brendon, and then hopes that Brendon is smart enough to figure out that they need his help without the words. Frank may be going unnoticed, but he can’t really call anyone, because if he does, he’s basically asking to be blown up. This is his chance to do something effective.

“I can’t keep the offer on the table forever. I’m a federal agent, but I’m not a judge. I can’t give you any security if I don’t have an answer in the few minutes,” Gerard says, peering behind Mr. Comb Over, “if you want to die, than I can’t stop you. If you don’t want to die, then all you need to do is walk towards me with your hands up.”

“If he goes, than I drop this bomb.”

“No you won’t. We both know you’re holding that bomb as a last resort. If I threaten your mission past a certain extent, than you will drop that bomb, and I believe that you will, I do. But if you lose one guy, then you’re still on top. Letting him go will still allow you a period of time where I might decide to back off, and that’s what you want from me. What [I want, is to go home tonight so that I can catch up on Parks and Recreation. What Frank wants,” Gerard gestures to Frank, “is to go home tonight so that he can sleep in his own bed rather than in the one over in that house we’ve been squatting in to watch you guys.”

“That’s true,” Frank nods.

“I just want a happy ending.”

The young guy, starts shaking his head, and he looks at Mr. Comb Over. In that moment, Gerard knows he’s won him over. He knows that he’s won this small battle, and that’s enough for him right now.

“I don’t want to do this,” he says, and Gerard feels himself sigh a little bit. “I don’t want to die.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Gerard says.

“You don’t want to do that,” Mr. Comb Over warns.

“Who are you to tell him what he wants. He’s being sensible,” Gerard says, as the guy makes his way, very slowly towards Gerard and Frank. “The instinct to survive is usually the strongest one a person has, so what’s different about you two?”

The young guy, whose name Gerard still doesn’t know, walks past the leader very slowly. While Mr. Comb Over gives him an incredibly threatening look, he doesn’t do anything. The world stops as he slowly inches nearer, and Frank takes the initiative to grab his hands to restrain him. It seems to be a perfect scenario, but it plays out faultlessly. They get him in handcuffs without a problem, and Gerard feels himself breathe out with relief.

“One down, two to go,” Frank says quietly, as he looks back up at the scene. He hopes Gerard can do this, and he hopes Brendon is on his way to help.

Notes

Jasmin just wanted to say that she's sorry that it took so long to update last time, and that she hopes it doesn't happen again.