Name Not Final (frerard killjoy au)

Chapter One: It's Not A Fashion Statement, It's a Fucking Deathwish

"Boy, get back here!"

Gerard glanced at the man next to him. "Dr. Death, are you sure this is fine?"

Dr. Death jerked his head backwards and smirked at their pursuers. "Got your gun close, Gee-boy?"

Gerard nodded nervously. "Do... do I actually have to kill someone?" He glanced down at his multicolored garments and tugged nervously at a lock of bright red hair. "I don't exactly think wearing these weird clothings and running away from home are worth someone's life."

Dr. Death smiled and spared a second to ruffle Gerard's hair. "Gee-boy, you sure are a nervous wreck. Trust me, it gets harder, but sure funner. Life outside Battery City and the zones... sure is fun as fuck." He grinned to himself. "That's the killjoy life, Gee-boy. Gotta keep your head high, and face the criminal life head on."

The red-dye-haired sixteen year old boy cringed at his twenty year old cousin's words behind his yellow mask. The wind whipped up the sand below his feet, adding yet another layer of dust and grime to his space-grey jeans. Dr. Death's dark blue jacket flew out behind him like a cape, unzipped and two sizes too big. It's 'killjoy' style, Dr. Death had told him. And killjoys never die.

"Young man, stop there!"

Gerard knew that this was his pursuer. Not Dr. Death's, but his. Biting his lip and wrapping the collar of his jacket around himself protectively, he kept his head down and ran alongside Dr. Death, panting slightly.

He tightened his grip on the yellow ray-gun that hung from his side. Please don't let me need to use this, please.

"Young man, if you don't stop, I'll shoot!"

Gerard widened his eyes under the protection of his yellow mask. "Oh, please don't shoot, please don't shoot, please don't..."

"Young man, if you don't stop, I'll shoot your friend!"

Gerard stopped in the middle of his track and whirled to face his pursuer. "It's not his fault!" he shouted. "If you need to kill, kill me!"

"Gee-boy, you fucking idiot, what do you think you're doing?!" Dr. Death glared at Gerard before gripping his ray gun tightly in one hand and pointing it at Gerard's pursuer. "Don't hurt the boy," he spat. "Or you'll get it."

The pursuer's lips curled into a smirk.

Gerard stared dumbfounded at the blood dripping onto the floor in front of Dr. Death. His pursuer's ray gun was smoking.

"Follow me, you insolent little cunt," Gerard's pursuer grabbed him by the arm and dragged him across the desert back to the hellish state of a city he and Dr. Death had tried so hard to get away from.

A single yellow ray gun dropped to the ground with a thud.

***

The fallen man struggled to his feet, gasping. His shirt was filled to the brim with fake blood as he watched with contempt his cousin being dragged away.

"Avenge my failure, Gee-boy," he seethed from his teeth. "Give them what they deserve for what they did to me, for what they're going to do to you."

***

"This isn't a fashion statement, young man," Korse, the 40 year old head of Battery City and basically all the zones, told Gerard as he glanced at Gerard's clothing choice with hatred. "It's a fucking deathwish."

Gerard struggled in his grip of iron, suppressing the urge to scream.

Screaming isn't what killjoys do, Dr. Death had told him. We sure as fuck use our voices to make noise, but not high-pitched screaming. We sing. SING.

"For what you've done against the safety of our nation, killjoy," Korse snarled. "You get a lifetime of suffering."

Gerard struggled to shake his head vigorously. He didn't want to die, he didn't want to die, didn't want to die...

"Say bye-bye to your killjoy life, bastard."

Gerard screamed and a thick-as-fuck needle penetrated his blue leather jacket, penetrated his shirt sleeve, penetrated his skin, his flesh, the sinew beneath and injected venom into him.

It felt like falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling without fear.

***

"Gerard, are you okay?"