Frerard Oneshots

My Way Home Is Through You

barely edited, and i'm sure you can guess what it's inspired by </3 i'm also done with the star title thing bc i'm sick of it, it looks bad lol.

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"Fuck!" Ghoul yelped, feet pounding the treaded desert sand beneath him as violently as his legs would allow him. He was running, breathing hard, fighting to catch his breath as his mouth went dry at the action.

Battery City was just behind him, the zones beckoning him back out -- outstretched dunes, towering, jagged mountains, and dusty plains enveloping him like a warm sense of home once more. Shit, he was going home.

He knew that there was still a Drac or two behind him, by the double set of footsteps scrambling after him. He didn't dare look back. He just kept running, running as fast as he fucking could. His chest was heaving, aching, not used to such impending desperation against it.

He didn't dare stop, though. He figured the Dracs were unarmed, by the fact that he hadn't been dusted yet -- his head spinning as he thought up the quickest, most rational plan he could.

Thinking such, he spun around -- catching sight of the two minions racing at him with murder scrawled across their emotionless masks. If only such a thing were possible. Ghoul took action, though. His leg came sweeping at the ankles of one, sending them tumbling as he launched at the other.

A swift, practiced move, and they were falling limp -- neck snapped, and only the slightest twinge of guilt left in Ghoul's tummy. The other had begun to leap to their feet, but not before Ghoul do the same to them -- breathing hard as the limp bodies of both agents lay at his feet.

He'd still never get used to the feeling of being a murderer. He constantly tried his hardest to push away the knowledge, though, because in a world like this -- it was either kill, or be killed, and Ghoul wasn't opting for the latter.

He'd been tugged from his thoughts, though, as the familiar sound of treading tires came screeching from behind him -- the sound like heaven on Earth as Ghoul caught sight of the Trans Am barreling towards him.

Kobra was behind the wheel, Jet hanging out of the window as he waved Ghoul down -- though, the latter didn't need much instruction to notice the beckoning vehicle.

The only slowed long enough for Ghoul to hop in -- but not before he got the wit to snatch the ID badges off the Dracs, pocketing them as he slid into the backseat through heaving breaths.

"Where's Party?" Was his first thought voiced before anybody else could squeeze one in.

"We don't know," Kobra replied -- Ghoul deflating a bit as he quickly fell with worry. "We think he may have gotten caught again just as we got past the limits..."

"What?" Ghoul asked. "Well, we have to go get him, right? You-- we have to go fast! You know what they'll do to him if we--"

"We can't go back yet," Kobra interjected, frowning -- though he was composing himself better. "Dracs are swarmed around the borders, it's too dangerous. We have to wait until things settle down, and then we'll--"

"No, he'll be dead by then, Kobra," Ghoul interrupted right on back. Desperation was thick in his voice, half-gloved hands clenched into fists in his lap. "I-- I'll go by myself, then. It's not like we're just going to leave him, right?"

"We're going back for him tomorrow, Ghoul," Jet finally spoke. "You know that they won't kill him. They still want him alive. If we go back now, it'll only be a suicide mission for the rest of us, and then Poison'll truly never get out."