Keep Running! (MCR fanfiction)

Covered In Ash of All My Friends

I carefully make my way closer to the entrance. Sharp shards of glass litter the dusty ground. I feel it crunch under my combat boots.  I am now standing in front of the broken glass doors. Holes appear everywhere, in walls, in the floor, everywhere.

Ash covers the ground in a light powder. Every step I take is a step to either finding triumph or tragedy. I hear someone behind me. Their even breathing barely reaching my ears. I tighten my grip on my gun and whirl around. I point the barrel at the person, aiming right at their face. A black, green, and purple mask sits around a pair of brown eyes staring at me. I can see their forehead has small wrinkles from the person giving me the are-you-serious eyebrows.

"Devil! I could have shot you through the face!" I yell at her in a harsh whisper.

She shrugs. "You didn't think we let you go in here alone did you? This may be your mission you have made yourself do, but I am not letting you run in here like a headless chicken."

"Thanks. Where is Kobra and Jet? Fun Ghoul?"

"Ghoul is watching from the car, making sure there are no get-aways. Jet and Kobra are looking for a back entrance and are waiting for your signal."

"Good. Now, you go left, I'll go right. Look for any signs of our Killjoys or Tumbleweeds." Devil nods and heads her direction, gun gripped tightly in her right hand. She is a coiled wire ready to spring.

"Flame, I found something." She calls from across the room. I hurry over, stepping over a knocked over file cabinet with papers strewn everywhere and black, burned holes covering a side. When I get near she adds, "Or someone."

Swift Target lies on the ground, dead. His red dyed hair is matted together with a dark liquid. His red vest has three burn holes around his lungs and heart. The target T-shirt he always wore is stained with blood. His hand, his right hand, is gripping his red gun in a death grip, pointing towards a door. His eyes are glazed and looking upwards, like he knew he was about to die. His mask has fallen off.

I look around. Four feet away, towards the door, a mask sits. The plain blue fabric is splattered slightly with Target's blood but the rest is untouched, unstained. I move over slowly, noiselessly and pick the mask up by the edges, afraid that if I touch it too hard, it will crumble away. I lightly drape the mask over the eyes of Target. I then use my two fingers to close his eyes. 

I look around for anything that can write. I find a sharpie in the damaged filing cabinet. I pull the cap off and begin to write.

When I finish, I look at my work and leave. I know Devil is still with the body. She is silent; she says nothing. But with her head bowed, I know she is struggling not to cry. I turn around, knowing we should move, but what I see is surprising.

Devil is on her knees, stroking the gun. Her shoulder move up and down in deep breaths but shake as they come down. Her fingers brush his face, and I know I am seeing something private. I move forward until I am right next to her. Her hair blocks her face from my view, but I am glad for it. I gently touch her shoulder, letting her know I am here. She turns towards me, and I see a pained look in her eyes but no tears.

She quickly looks down and stands. "We should keep moving." Her voice is strong and certain but I know she had to put up her defenses to say it. I nod silently and stand. I point to the door where the gun point, and we both begin to move towards it. There is no sign of any other body as we get closer. As we get to the door, I notice a hole about eye level made from the shot of a raygun.

"Does any of them have a phone?"

"Who?"

"Jet or Kobra."