Adrenaline Sisters// fall out boy & my chemical romance

Chapter 44: I'm Not Dead I Only Dress That Way

||First Person||Revolution||

It's been so long since the day that Bomb and Patrick announced the pregnancy, the day that we were all suddenly aware that nothing would ever be the same again. That day, I learned that my sister, the girl that I expected to be so much smarter than she was, went ahead and got herself knocked up in one of the most inconvenient times known to the human race. It's bad enough that for the past eight or so months, her stomach has been expanding as a baby slowly grows within her and limits her from most tasks that she would typically have no problem completing, but even worse when I remember that the child that is growing inside her is the product of Patrick as well. Bomb, despite being my primary caregiver for most of my life and raising the both of us for seven years, was not as much to blame for this in comparison to Patrick. He should have known better, he shouldn't have taken advantage of the fact that my sister is so inexperienced but rather made sure that he was protected before he decided to go and screw around with my sister.

The diner, despite housing us for longer than we could have ever hoped, was not going to be the ideal place for nine people to live. There were literally three bedrooms in the small station, and though we would liked to have stayed there for longer, Party decided that it'd be best to free up the space for rebels in need. There was a house that he found, much like the one that Pete burnt to the ground months ago, maybe back in October or November, that had a few more rooms and was abandoned with its possessions. It's nothing special— in fact, it smells like wet carpet and rotting wood, but with enough work on the interior, it could be a hundred percent habitable for not only us, but for the little baby that would be accompanying us soon enough. Despite my complete disapproval with the prospect of my sister and Patrick having a child at a time like this, the baby will soon become my number one priority as their aunt. I'm morally obligated.

"I think this will be fantastic," my sister says in amusement as she walks through the front door, a hand resting protectively over her rather large belly. Her mask, a white and red masquerade type that vaguely resembles Party's yellow one, is pulled over her face as she enters. My own mask, a navy midnight colour with little details lining the borders, hangs loosely around my neck with my bandana as I look around, surveying the dark but spacious room. "I can already picture—"

"We're still on the run, Bomb." I state harshly before she can run her mouth again about how she thinks the baby will behave in our circumstances. "This child, if they by chance survive, will not have a normal childhood."

"Negative Nova," Kobra hums as he maneuvers around me, a box filled with his few belongings (mostly clothes and a few comic books he couldn't dare leave behind at the diner) being clutched to his chest rather protectively. He turns his head back to catch a glance of my reaction, an amused smirk playing on his lips when he sees my scowl. He knows that I'm not that mad at him or else he'd be lying on the ground with a gun would in his foot.

"More like Realistic Rev," I call after him, earning a short laugh from Mikey as he turns to head up the stairs.

"Nefarious Nova?" Mikey throws over his shoulders as he climbs his way up the stairs. "Oh, how about Ruthless Rev? How's that, Gee?" Mikey chuckles to his brother, who is busy lugging a box filled to the top with cans of Power Pup, the disgusting but lasting food that stocks the shelves in most stores out here nowadays. It's been getting increasingly difficult to get any of the food we used to be able to purchase, more so because of the tightness in security at Battery City (all I heard from Agent Cherri Cola, who stayed behind, is that a group of Killjoys decided it'd be fun to ram their vehicles through the city limits). This whole fiasco, in which the drugged up, Happy citizens were now fearful of what goes on outside of their own monochromatic, safe existence, was the reason we're stuck eating actual crap. The store owners could no longer easily obtain decent food, just the crap doled out to dogs in Battery City. If by chance they managed to get the good stuff, it was bought out quicker than humanly possible. Power Pup won't kill us, but it might as well. It tastes horrible.