It's Like I'm Sleepwalking [Frerard/Jalex] [on hold, major editing]

2: The Strays

~Gerard's POV~

Once the rats had evicted the perimeter, my walkie-talkie buzzes to life, notifying me that my brother had made it to the other side as well, and was sweeping in for the kill. I'd take them out myself, but Mikey needed the target practice, a moving target this time, the last of the moving targets I hadn't already taken out. He had brought a sketchy looking pistol with him, and he was no one-shot Finch, but he had at least made it over the fence without lethal electrocution. And with that, I lit another cigarette in celebration.

~Alex's POV~

"You check."

"No, you check."

"I checked last time."

"Yeah, you did. And then I shoved you into a trunk of a mivivan. You know, you'd be really easy to kidnap."

"Just open the door, asswipe."

I had always been quite the locksmith, but Frankie didn't know just what I had up my sleeve. Quite literally. I roll up the sleeves of my striped sweatshirt, damp from a sweaty, panic-filled stealth run over here and press my new gloves together, causing the two 8 inch hidden blades to protrude from both my wrists, just grazing my middle fingers. Positioning them to slip right in between the lock of the door. Popping it open just far enough for me to strategically hang my upper body out of the trunk. Scanning my surroundings, Frank growing more and more impatient as the minutes ticked by.

"You can't even see him from here." And clearly, he thought of me as some kind of human sacrifice because he shoved the rest of me out of the car and onto the scalding gravel, my already badly sunburned skin blistering as I had to army crawl halfway across the parking lot before our suburb was visible again. Frank scraping himself up severely on his way over until we were even, both threatening to clamp a hand over each other's mouths if we dare cry out in pain.

"Okay, it looks like Twilight has given up on us and is now swallowing a few packs of Marlboros instead." I thought that was evident enough that the coast was clear, but Frank doesn't move a muscle.

I know he wanted me to lead the way, so I rolled out from underneath the car,

Only to have my knuckle crushed by a large, leather boot.

And the next thing I knew, there was another boot on my other knuckle, and my best friend on one side and my future worst enemy on the other, and he was dragging me out from under one side of the car and pinning me up against other, with a fistful of my hair in one hand and a gun to my head in the other.

~Frank's POV~

There was no doubt in my mind that both parties were fully aware of me, and this was also doubtlessly the end for us. I couldn't help but feel like someone would sweep in to save us last minute, but this wasn't like the movies.There were no superheroes and there were no supervillains, and there was no saving or dominating a world so broken beyond repair, only broken people who needed their fix to forget how broken everything was. And most of us just happened to be fixated on breaking down everyone else.

I had to get up there, I had to help him, weaponless or not. 2 on 1 really should be cake, but we weren't build for these kinds of things. We've been living off looting empty houses and sleeping in trees for the past 4 years for god's sake! If this was what my anxiety was keeping me up for, if I wasn't just seeing things at night, things Alex had so willingly dismissed as 'paranoia' in the dead of night. Or even pass off as some forest animal, even if he knew we were the last of the animal kingdom remaining. Maybe they did some stalking of their own when my back was turned.

I braced myself, waiting for the trigger pull, for my best friend's brains to splatter across the windshield of the car. Waiting for cool metal to press against my temple, to join him, for the fiery pits of Hell to swallow me up, anything,

Only to hear a shot of static coming from the stranger's pocket.

"Mikey? Are you there? Would you hurry up?"

Surely I had mere seconds before 'Mikey' finished him off, but, that voice. It sounded so damn familiar....

I finally regain the strength to get off my hands and knees to find that not only was Alex held up at gunpoint, but Mikey had an assassin blade or 2 under his chin.

"Oh shit." I was grinning from ear to ear, wiping my bloody palms on my jeans. Alex mimicking my expression.

"I knew you'd fall for it.' Faking a confident smile, like this was his plan all along.

The tables were turning, and god dammit, they were turning fast.

In result, the near 6 foot, lanky, only temporarily threatening teenager finally let his guard down.

"Guys, please let me go! This was my brother's idea, I swear!"

His whines were basically music to my ears, but I could tell none of us had the heart to do this. But Alex was motioning towards Mikey's pocket again. I said we didn't have the heart for murder. I said nothing about revenge.

I fish for the communication device, gasping into the mic before I finally speak.

"Who is this?"

The receiving end grew quiet.

"Give us your name and location, or Mikey dies."

Alex even started to drag his knife across the kid's throat (who had to be 15 at the oldest) so everyone knew we weren't fucking around. Because he wasn't some apprentice, he wasn't bred to be some cold-blooded killer, he was bait.

They say that the heroes lived just long enough to become the villains, and which side is to take the bait, would prove just who the bad guys really were.

~Gerard's POV~

the walkie-talkie wasn't even needed, Mikey's cries could be heard for miles and they did nothing but seep through the cracks in the windows and eat away at me. I Should've listened to my instincts when they told me my baby brother wasn't ready.

"Okay okay! I'm coming. Stay where you are."

"Come unarmed."

I don't fucking think so, little one. The signal had gotten cut off, but I kept on talking. Re-stocking my belt, re-uniting every knife with its holder, to be concealed within my trench coat. Trying to be intimidating, huh? Seem to think you run things around here? That's cute.

I'll be sure to slit your pretty little throat first.