The Emo Mafia

•You want a war? You've got a war•

Instead of hearing the constant chorus of crickets during a quiet Thursday night, it was replaced with the loud, ear-splitting laughter of automatic weapons. There's no telling how long Pete has been out there. Minutes, hours, hell, maybe even days. It feels like a week actually, and everyone is exhausted.

It's almost like the whole world is in slow motion like some epic action movie. But this is real, so real that it's terrifying, and absolutely nothing could've prepared him for this. It all felt like a vivid nightmare where he'll witness the deaths of those closest to him as they fight for themselves and Chicago, and at some point he's going to wake up in a cold sweat gasping for air with Patrick beside to him trying to calm his nerves.

Oh how he wished that was the case.

But, no, he's here taking cover behind an SUV so he can reload his AK. He takes the extra clip and shoves it into the catch until it clicks, then leans back against the car for a moment to regain his breath. This could very well be his final moment as a gang leader, as a friend, as a person living on earth.

He takes a deep breath in an attempt to ready himself then jumps out from behind the car, finger on the trigger and shooting a hurricane of bullets.

***

"Patrick, don't worry," Andy attempts to talk some comforting words into Patrick to ease his mind and heart. "Pete's a tough guy, I'm sure him and everyone else will pull through."

Patrick lets out a breath that felt like it weighed a ton in his lungs. He feels a little lighter but not enough to make him forget about what's happening. If he had a say in this he would've went out there with them, mostly just to keep an eye on Pete and make sure he got out alive. But he had to wait for the call, he couldn't do a thing unless he got the call first.

Some other people showed up, Patrick didn't know them but Andy seemed to know a few. He claimed they were other member of the gang, the ones behind the scenes who aren't on the front line like Pete and his friends are. The ones who keep everything running. Patrick decides that they could help when the time came. If the time came.

***

All of Pete's men are either shooting alongside him or ducking for cover. Finding cover would be the smart thing to do, especially for Pete since he's basically standing front and center, like an unprotected man swimming in shark infested waters. Something bad is bound to happen, and Pete doesn't care. He will put a bullet in every single skull that opposes him or he will die trying. And the longer this rages on the more likely it seems that he'll be doing just that; die trying. The more that thought scrambles through his mind, the more he thinks he'll never see Patrick's pretty face again. He'll try harder if it means he'll get to see Patrick once this all blows over. But right now he has to focus on-

"Joseph!" Pete hears Gabe shout from behind him, quickly whipping around to find the reason for it. All he can see is Gabe sprinting in the opposite direction, down the street towards what he assumed was his friend. But he couldn't just drop everything and follow, he had to cover Gabe while he went to check the damage.

They were losing. Pete had to make the call sooner rather than later.

***

Much sooner than Patrick anticipated his phone begins to ring. He glances at Andy, who immediately stops what he's doing to meet Patrick's gaze. To anyone looking from the outside in it'd appear that they were having a silent conversation, both men wondering if Patrick was going to answer it. Honestly, he was afraid of what this call might mean other than the fact that Pete needed his help. What if someone was dead or dying, severely wounded? What if that someone was Pete? Patrick couldn't dwell on these thoughts for too long or else the phone would stop ringing. Pick up the phone, Patrick thought, Pete needs you.

By the third ring Patrick finally answers without glancing at the caller ID, figuring it was Pete. And he was right, it was him.

"Pete?" Patrick answers, his voice already laced with worry.

"'Trick!" Pete shouts over the all the gunshots going off in the distance. "Blurryface. I need your help to take him out."

"I'll be there soon, just hang on."

"Thirty seconds, Red. You have thirty seconds to get here." Then the line goes dead, and Patrick hopes it's simply because Pete hung up and wasn't gunned down or something.

He quickly gets up from the stool he was perched upon and heads for the guitar case leaning against the wall.

"It's time?" Andy asks, also getting to his feet and placing his tattoo gun down, yanking off his sterile rubber gloves and throwing them in the trash.

Patrick simply nods in response while he removes the sleek weapon from its case. Luckily Pete had assembled it before he left or else Patrick, and everyone else, would be shit out of luck.

There's no question that Andy is going with him, he agreed wordlessly. Patrick understood, because he also had someone he cared about involved in this war. And the extra guys who showed up are ride or die men, they will do anything for this gang no matter the circumstances. Patrick didn't need to ask.

"Let's go guys."

***

Here he is again ducking behind another vehicle, a smaller one this time. It's blue like Patrick's eyes, which is the first thing he thinks about the second he hears his voice over the phone. The thought keeps him grounded. You'll see him again, he thinks, even if you die you'll still see him.

Gabe is there with him too and Joe is slouched between them, clutching his stomach in a weak attempt to stop the blood that's seeping between his fingers.

"Patrick's on his way, okay," Pete says to Joe, trying his best to keep calm and soothe his wounded friend. "You're gonna be fine."

"We're gonna get you outta here and you're gonna see your lover boy, then you two will live happily ever after like all the princesses in those sappy Disney movies." Gabe rambles as he peeks over the front of the car, barely catching the slight chuckle that emanates from Joe's throat.

"Is that them?" Joe asks weakly, raising his free hand to point ahead of him at a group of people dressed in dark clothes.

Gabe whips around to face forward once again and Pete follows the direction Joe's finger is pointing, spotting the crowd over in the distance. He wonders who they could be and honestly thinks Blurryface called for backup. But no, as the group draws nearer he notices a pale man wearing a black fedora strutting purposefully down the ruined street, toting the Chicago Typewriter in his hands.

"Patrick, you beautiful fuckin' monster." Pete mutters to himself before turning to Gabe and telling him to stay with Joe, which he agrees to without question.

Pete gets to his feet and emerges from behind the car, stepping out and aiming his AK in front of him and towards the opposing crowd. Once they realize what's happening some of them try to run and scatter, but there's nowhere to run. Pausing in the middle of the street, Pete holds his ground as Patrick steps up beside him with the rest of the group behind them. They share a look for a moment before Pete breaks out in a huge grin that Patrick also returns.

The group spread out, lining up side by side across the entire street, Pete and Patrick in the middle of the line.

"Open fire?" Patrick asks, looking to Pete for an answer.

"Open fire." Pete emphasizes his words by cocking his gun, followed by a chorus of the same sound from the men standing on both sides of him, even Patrick. Then they face forward and open fire on Blurryface's gang.