Big Emo 6

Bandfighting

I sneak into the back alley behind the San Bandsoyko tower, careful not to make a sound. The alley is full of tough-looking punks who could throw my weak body to Mars in 30 seconds, but I don't care what they think. I am not afraid to walk in this alley alone.

"Artists, tune your instruments and prepare yourselves, because it's time for a band fight!" shouts Andy Hurley, the toughest of all the punks. "Who here is man enough to beat me, the king of music?"

I step forward. "Can I try?" I ask. "My name's Gerard, um... Gerard Way. I can play guitar!"

Andy and his goons laugh so hard, tears come streaming out their eyes. "A little goth like you? Fine, but you know how bandfighting works. Pay up."

I hand one of the punks, Gabe Saporta, a crumpled $20 bill. "Alright, 3, 2, 1, go!" Gabe says. Picking up my guitar, I play a song, but forget the words halfway through. Andy, however, plays the drums like a boss, winning the bandfight.

"Sorry, kid," he smirks. "Little american idiots like you don't have much talent, I guess."

"But that was my first fight!" I protest, throwing my hands in the air. "Can't I try one more time? I have more money!"

"Fine," Andy laughs. "Go ahead and try. You'll never break me."

I take my guitar again and play another song, but this time I do well and win the battle. Collecting my winnings, a stack of hundred-dollar bills, I begin to head home from the fight when Andy stops me.

"There's no way you can beat me that easily," Andy snarls. "Gabe, teach him a lesson."

Gabe leads me into a corner, making a fist at me. Oh no, oh no, oh no...

"C'mon, Gabe!" I yelp, hoping to stall him. "Can we talk this out? Have a bro-on-bro pep talk?"

Suddenly, a familiar face rides in on a moped. He takes off his helmet and looks me in the eyes, saying, "Get on, Gee!"

"Mikey!" I exclaim, dashing away from Gabe. "Ha, great timing! Can you please get me out of here?"

"Sure thing," Mikey says, tossing me a helmet. "Gee, I've told you a million times. You gotta stop bandfighting! It's illegal!"

"It's not illegal!" I protest. "It's only illegal if you bet on it. And in no way was I doing any of that-" I'm cut off as Mikey glares at the money in my hoodie pocket.

"Seriously. We could get arrested, Gerard, and you know what they do to guys like us in prison... oh, crap, the cops!"

I look away from Mikey to see flashing lights from a police car, and sure enough, an hour later my Uncle Dan is picking us up from the local police office. "Are you two hurt? Are you kids alright?" he asks, checking us for injuries.

"We're okay, I promise," Mikey tells him. "Alright, good," Uncle Dan sighs. "Then what were you two Killjoys thinking? For ten years, I have done the best I could to raise you. Do I know anything about raising an emo? No! Should I get a book on parenting? Probably!"

We arrive back at our apartment above Uncle Dan's record store, where he immediatley reaches for a bottle of red wine. "It's just a little wine, okay?" he shouts. "But I'm drinking because of you! Come on, Hemingway!"

*Hemingway belongs to Dan in this AU. Don't ask why, this is just an AU*

Uncle Dan's bulldog, Hemingway, follows him into the lounge, where the two of them binge-watch Downton Abbey. "Gerard, you've got to make this up to Uncle Dan before he retells the history of a band or something," he says, giving me a death glare.

"How would I do that?" I ask. "What would I even do, go to music school like you and learn about instruments I already know how to play?"

"Unbelievable," Mikey sighs, facepalming himself while I Google local bandfights in the area. Mikey looks at my phone and gasps, "You're going to another bandfight?" I nod.

Mikey smirks, "Well, I can't stop you from going, Gee, so I'll take you. C'mon, let's go!"