Disclaimer: I do not know any of the characters in this story, nor do I own them (oh, if i did...). None of this is true, although if you're a lawyer who can't figure that out without me telling you, you may want to consider another line of work.

Email: travispawlikowski@gmail.com

God, Gerard had always loved to listen to David Bowie.....he was one of his idols. He was currently cruising in his midnight-black, beaten-up, open-top Mercedes with another one of his idols, Frankie Iero.

"Hey, Gee.....GEE!" Frankie had to yell to get Gerard's attention, God, I really have to pay more attention, Gerard thought.

They had reached their destination, an old, beat up apartment building frequented mostly by dealers and junkies, hookers and tricks. Out came Ray, with his gorgeous, well-groomed curly red mane of hair. He was clad in stylish clothing head to toe: a silk black jacket with gray pinstripes, and matching vest and pants, and under the vest, a crimson red dress shirt from Tripp. Ray liked to dress flamboyently, not blend in like the rest of the group of the group.

After Ray climbed into the car and said "Hey" to noone in particular, a well known drug dealer and career rapist got pushed out the door, forcefully. Close behind was the last member of the group, Bob Bryer, who was holding the street scum at gunpoint. Bob grabbed the parasite by the throat, forced the SIG P226 handgun under his chin, and blew his brains all over the hood of the car.

"Christ, Bob, can you ever do something without making a mess?" Gerard deadpanned, with a cocksure grin.

"Sorry Gee, force of habit and all that." Bob responded with a wink.

"Nine hundred and ninety nine!" Frankie said happily. "Only one more to go."

*Frank's POV*

God, I can hardly believe we're almost done with this thing. It's been months since we've started, since I made a deal with the devil to bring my love, beautiful insecure Mikey back to life. Killing 1,000 evil men, and sending them where they belonged seemed easier, then. Still, only one person left to kill, and then this will all be over........

*Omniscient POV*

The grim group was now heading towards their final destination, after having spent the fast few months killing daily, almost without rest, in order to bring Gerard's little brother (author's note:no Waycest is existant in this story) , and Frank's lover, back to life. They knew that in order to make things right, they now had to kill the one person who had started it all, the one who shot down Mikey in cold blood:Bert McCracken, whom Gerard had considered almost a brother.

Gerard stopped the patchwork, still-blood-spattered car outside the Reprise Records recording studio, where Bert and the rest of The Used were said to be recording an inflamatory song about Gee, "Handsome Awkward". As one, the four exited the shitmobile and entered the soon-to-be in need of heavy, heavy cleaning Reprise Records Studio.

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When the four avenging killers entered the lobby of Reprise Studios, they could see that someone had warned The Used about their imminent arrival, as the members of the band stood facing them now.

Each side immediately scrambled for cover, diving behind various objects such as couches and pillers and pulling out their respective firearms in the process.

"I loved you, Gerard, but you never knew because you were too busy taking care of your asmatic, loser kid brother your whole life!"Bert yelled out from behind a turned over table as he and Gerard exchanged gunfire.

"Mikey may not have been popular, Bert, but at least he found a good use for his life, something you never managed!" Gerard screamed back while Ray was busy introducing Quinn's face to Mr. Bullet, via his Derringer antique dueling pistol.

Bert took off running down a hallway while the battle was raging in the lobby, Gerard hot on his heels.

Bob and Ray had already finished off most of the band in spectacular fashion (Bob backhanding the drummer Dan to the floor, and stepping on his spinal cord, breaking it;Ray having killed Quinn earlier using his cherised one-shot dueling pistol), Frankie was now left facing Jeph Howard, the bassist of The Used.

The two combatants circled each other slower, each not quite aware of the other's ability, and wary because of that. Frankie was brandishing his cherished switchblade, with "Halloween" engraved on the handle in ivory, that has been his trusty companion ever since Gerard gave it to him at Frankie and Mikey's wedding.

For his part, Dan was doing his best not to shake from the heroin most of the band had been doing before the violence began, and was holding a broken beer bottle in a hopeless effort to hold off the enraged Frank Iero. He lunged at Frank with his broken beer bottle, who was truly a terrifying sight with his seemingly calm, calculating eyes, and fearsome switchblade.

Frankie grabbed his assailent's hand, forced the beer bottle out of it, and cut the drummer's wrist, to the bone. He then sucker-punched Dan in the temple, knocking him to his knees.

"For what you did to me, and what I'll do to you, you get what everyone else gets....you'll get a lifetime. And yours, my friend, is just about over.....when I'm done making you suffer, that is." Frankie whispered savagely into the stunned drummer's bloody ear.

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The lights were low and the hallway's floor was littered with beer bottles, syringes, and butts. The fact that The Used had been all but living in this studio was obvious to Gerard, and probably to anybody else, as well.

Gerard followed the fleeing murderer/vocalist with the steady pace of the grimly determined, hellbent, vengeful individual he was.

Bert yelled out "We'll drown ourselves in misery, tonight!" as he drunkenly dropped his bottle of vodka and pulled out a .38 revolver. He took unsteady aim at the advancing, and very imposing figure of a wrathful Gerard Way, and tried to shoot him, missing with each and every of his six bullets.

Still drunkenly ranting, Bert mumbled "I sleep in empty pools and vacant alleyways."as Gerard pushed him against the wall with one hand, placing a long, ivory-handled hunting knife at the cowering drunk's throat.

Grinning evilly and thinking only of revenge, Gerard savoringly said "I want to see what your insides look like, I bet you're not so fucking pretty on the inside."

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As the four vengeful companions walked out into the harsh, glaring sunlight from the bloodbath they had created inside, they saw a man with a ghastly pale completion standing there, clapping and laughing chillingly.

"Ahahahaha. It's true what they say, isn't it, Gerard? The Devil always gets his due, eh?" The man said, chuckling at his own pun.

Bob cocked his SIG P266, slowly and calmly leveling it at the demonic seeming presence before him. "Cut the shit, asshole. We want Mikey back now, or you'll get your fucking due, all right."

The Devil, (for indeed, it was he), couldn't help but chuckle a little again at such delicious cold-heartedness. "Indeed, Bob, indeed. I do so look forward to having you and your cohorts join me some day, you know." He stepped aside, revealing Mikey Way, safe and sound and back from Hell. "That day, however, doesn't seem to be today, Mikey." the Devil said and disappeared.

Mikey ran as fast as he could into Frankie's arms, who showered him with kisses. "Don't ever leave me again baby, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I won't, Frankie, I won't." Mikey promised as the group ran over and hugged him, as he was like a little brother to all of them, even if he was only Gerard's little brother in reality.

FIN

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