Crimson Reflections | Ferard

I

The place felt suffocating.

Even the music coming from the stage sounded especially annoying to his ears that night. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go as far as he could from there, but he knew if he failed, he might not get anyone to go back to. So, grinding his teeth, Frank gulped the last of his whiskey in one go and stood up, willing whatever mad courage he had in him, fueled by alcohol really, and made his way to the table Gerard freaking Way sat on.

"You came," was the first thing that left Way's mouth the moment Frank made it to the table. He wasn't even looking at him, nor at the lanky kid sitting opposite him and the huge guy sitting beside him. They didn't spare him a look either.

"I did," he answered flatly, letting them know he wasn't after games. He knew what they wanted of him and he was willing to do it for the money. He'd do anything for money at this point.

Way finished his glass and pushed it away from him. As if on cue, the lanky kid and the huge man stood up and left the booth in tow without another word. They didn't look at Frank but he didn't miss the shoulder squeeze the lanky kid gave Way's shoulder before he followed the other man.

"Sit, Frankie. We have a lot to talk about," Way now said, looking at Frank in such a way that Frank knew he was evaluating him still. Frank was used to it, nothing about the way he looked or acted really pointed to the nature of his job, but his reputation did. He knew it was his reputation that brought Way and his gang to him than anything else.

Frank sat down and drowned the half empty glass that was sitting on the table before him. When he put it down, Way was looking at him with a sly smile.

"What do you want me to do?" Frank decided to cut to the chase. No need to chit-chat with the guy, they needed him for a job and he needed to be home soon.

"A man who knows what he wants. I like that."

Frank took a breath and lent back in his chair, waiting.

Way looked down momentarily and then took something out of his pocket. It took Frank until Way pushed it towards him to realize it was a photo.

"Him." Way said, watching Frank closely.
Frank looked from the photo to Way's face, trying to hide his surprise. That was it? He just wanted him to kill a man? Since when did Gerard Way hire people to kill people for him? And most importantly, since when did he have private meetings for such a job? The dude was the most powerful man in all of New Jersey and he needed to meet up with Frank of all people to tell him to kill someone? What the hell?

Frank nodded, despite all the questions swimming in his head. He knew he couldn't ask any of them, after all it was his job prescription to do the job with no questions asked. He's done it before well enough, it shouldn't be too hard.

"How soon?"

Frank could swear he saw Way smiling, but the shadows the crappy lights of the bar made it impossible to tell for sure.

"As soon as possible."

Frank looked back at the photo, engraving the details of the man's face in his head. He couldn't say he's seen him before, but Frank's been away from the scene for so long, he couldn't possibly say he had met every new guy there was. He flipped the photo over and memorized the guy's name and address.

Way sat there patiently as Frank flipped the photo over one last time and held his lighter up before lightening the thing on fire. He felt something being pushed by his feet when the last flames of the photo went down.

"Your first payment. The rest is yours when it's done."

Frank nodded and Way didn't waste time, standing up. "I was told you were the best for the job, Iero. Don't make me regret it."

Frank didn't look up from the ashes of the photo in front of him. He didn't even hear what Way has just said, he could only focus on the fact that he finally had the money. Nothing else mattered.

Later that night, Frank would lay in his bed and think about what he exactly had gotten himself into by agreeing on doing just for the money.
...

A/N: thoughts? 🖤