The Name of the Game

Chapter 22

As Mr. Iero helped his wife out of her coat, he racked his brain for who could have done this to his son. His mind immediately flocked to The Quiet. He hated those masked freaks more than anything.

Those masks. They made everything worse, because he couldn't identify any of those people.

Mr. Iero sighed. He hung Linda's coat up on its peg, then his fedora, then made his way into the bedroom. He sat down at his writing desk and ran his hands through his short hair, grabbing what he could on either side.

Linda, who had followed him into the bedroom, laid down on the bed, still wearing her rain boots and day clothes. Mr. Iero turned to look at her. "My darling, would you like to get into something more comfortable?" he asked.

Linda sat up and reached for her boots. Mr. Iero stood, ready to help, but not interfering. It was great that she wanted to be independent, but sometimes, she just couldn't. She managed to push one boot off, and got the other half off before giving up and looking to her husband.

"Try again, my love," he said gently. "You can do it."

Linda hesitated before leaning forward again and nudging the boot off of her foot. She dropped it in the floor before laying back down again. Her eyes closed, and Mr. Iero sat back down at his desk. He stared at the blank, rich wood, trying to think if he would be able to recognize or identify anyone who would want to hurt his son. After a little while, he decided that he would have to call a meeting. He would gather up some of the top stealth members and have them track down members of The Quiet. Sure, it would probably take months to gather any information, and even longer to gather any connections, but that didn't matter. As long as there was justice for his son.

Mr. Iero was reaching for his phone when there was a knock at the door. He glanced up at the clock by his bed. It was nearly 1:30 in the morning. "Linda, stay here," he instructed. He stood up and reached into his desk drawer, grabbing for the knife that was hidden there. He hid it behind his back and made his way to the door. He opened it to find a disheveled Gerard standing before him.

He sighed. This was nothing new; for the past few months, Gerard had been showing up at the Iero household for no apparent reason. He would knock a few times, then, as soon as Mr. Iero answered the door, mumble and leave. Mr. Iero had no idea what was going on between Gerard and Frank, but Gerard's increasingly bad mental state was alarming regardless.

Gerard stared at Mr. Iero with glassy eyes. "Sorry to bother you," Gerard mumbled. He then turned and walked back to his car and drove off.

Mr. Iero shook his head and closed the door. A voice behind him made him jump.

"Was that that Gerard boy?" Linda asked, her voice airy.

Mr. Iero nodded. "It was," he said.

Linda nodded. "I like him," she said, trailing back into the bedroom. He barely heard her say, "And that funny little thing his lip does."

Mr. Iero bobbed his head. The first things he had ever noticed about Gerard were his manners and his lip. Mr. Iero thought back to their first meeting. Gerard had come from far away, at the other end of the parking lot at Italia. Mr. Iero hadn't thought much of this at the time, but now, he figured it could have been considered a bit strange. And now that he was thinking about it, he had noticed something stuffed into Gerard's sock. He had only noticed it when Gerard had sat down, and whatever it was had caught the light and shone on Frank's cheek for a split second. Gerard had quickly adjusted his ankle so that the object was hidden again. He never noticed Mr. Iero looking at him.

Mr. Iero now felt as if the air had thickened somehow. There was something about Gerard that unsettled him, and he couldn't figure out what it was. He began to pace back and forth in the living room, tapping the knife lightly against his chin as he did so. He tried to think about every ounce of contact he'd ever had with Gerard. He struggled, seeing as the two hadn't exactly been particularly close.