male/nonbinary reader x mcr oneshots

* Jet-Star and the Kobra Kid (pt. 3)

"L/N. With me." Korse called in a clipped and impatient voice.

Y/N glanced up from his desk, standing up quickly when he saw who had spoken. He trailed behind Korse like a beaten dog, tail between his legs.

"You're being reassigned." Korse snapped, ushering him into an elevator and pushing the button for a subterranean floor.

"Could I ask why, sir?" Y/N questioned tentatively.

Korse let out a sharp breath. "No."

Y/N blushed and nodded, shrinking into himself.

"A subordinate will be by your apartment tonight to deliver your new medications. Please dispose of the old ones as per Better Living standards." He said coolly, walking out of the elevator and leaving Y/N to trail at his heels again.

They were halfway down the hall before Korse's walkie-talkie buzzed.

"Sir, KJ interference on L16. EXPs from FG. Presence requested. Over."

Korse cursed under his breath. "L/N, stay here. Do not move."

Y/N didn't even have a chance to nod before Korse was off, storming down the hallway and yelling into his walkie-talkie.

Y/N stood in that exact place for far too long. Hours. His knees had locked up at some point and he was itching to move, stretch, do anything. He sighed, looking at the blank white walls around him when he heard it.

A deep rumble, shaking the floor beneath his feet and traveling through his body. A loud BOOM filled the air, along with the crash and crackle of drywall crumbling in.

Y/N blinked furiously at the dust that permeated the air around him, still not moving even as every fiber of his being screamed at him to. His hand crept to his side and rested on the handle of his white ray gun.

Three figures emerged from the dust. Something in Y/N's brain desperately tried to recognize them, but came up blank.

The tallest of the bunch wore a yellow motorcycle helmet over his head. Another wore a similar astronaut-style helmet, but silver. The last, a very short figure wearing a Frankenstein's monster mask, clutched a crude computer-esque object.

"He's nearby, guys." Short Guy said, coughing a bit under his mask. "The tracker says he's- wait, huh? Ah- sorry, feed interference. He should be just down this hall."

Yellow Helmet hurriedly climbed over debris, stopping at the mouth of the hallway and staring at Y/N.

Y/N's gun pointed at him, and only quivered a little. "Back up!"

Yellow Helmet was soon joined by Short Guy, who both glanced at each other before slowly raising their hands.

Y/N swallowed thickly, alternating between aiming at Short Guy and Yellow Helmet.

He didn't expect Silver Helmet to fucking pistol-whip him from behind.