Frank Iero and the Meaning of Life

Chapter Twenty-Three - Mission Impossible

A few days later, the two of us returned to the rebel base. When we arrived, a few pieces of paper appeared to be scattered on the digital map table. All of them had a few numbers scribbled onto them, and Andy busily wrote down more numbers as he scrolled through his bootleg band.

"You guys collecting passwords?" I asked.

"You betcha," said Andy. "We have to have at least thirty passwords by now. Patrick's been going around collecting them. Secretly, of course. If this plan of yours really works, we need to rally together a whole bunch of groups."

"You think it's possible to rally groups from other fandoms?" asked Poison.

"What, as in, outside the Bandom District?" said Andy. "That's highly unlikely. Large-scale rebellions have ever only been confined to one specific fandom. It would be incredibly difficult to get folks from outside the Emo Pavilion, let alone outside the Bandom District."

Brendon came into the room with two interesting-looking ray guns and plopped them down on the table in front of us. "The chances of something happening like that are low," he said, "but never zero. Speaking of which...Patrick wants to teach you two how to properly shoot."

"I already know how to shoot," said Poison.

"The key word is properly. No offense, but you two are a bit lousy."

"That's understandable," I said. "Where's he at?"

"Shooting range is behind the building. He said to meet you there."

Even though I already had a ray gun, I picked up one from the table and followed Poison out the back door. We walked in on Patrick taking aim at a few crudely-made dummies; even though they looked pretty damn far away, Patrick managed to land a headshot on every single one of them. The electric sounds of his gun pulsated throughout the cavern and echoed off the damp walls.

"Hey!" he said to us with a smile. "You guys ready to shoot like real rebels?"

"I already have some experience," said Poison as he pulled out his gun.

"Great!" said Patrick. "I'm assuming that Frank doesn't have as much experience, so we'll have you start with the basics first."

Before we could start, however, Pete walked out of the backdoor and waved at Patrick.

"Hey, Patrick," he called, "just going to give you a heads-up. Andy and I are going to try out some of those passwords and talk to a bunch of resistance groups. We'll try our damndest to get them to join us, but don't expect perfect results."

"Alright," said Patrick. "Good luck. Be careful."

Pete gave Patrick a thumbs-up and ran back inside. "So, I don't want to rush the whole rebellion process," I said, "but how long do you think it'll take to grow a huge army?"

"That depends," said Patrick. "Usually, it could take months or even years. But, since you're the leader of the rebellion, I think people will be faster to join."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well," said Patrick, "you should really hear the word on the street about yourself. While you guys were out there fic hopping, your named got changed to 'The Frank'. You weren't just a Frank anymore...you were The Frank. I don't think you're really aware of how legendary you and your little group are. Your 'deaths' only added to your status. When people find out that you guys are actually alive...they might flock to your little movement."

"Me? Legendary?" I said. "That's hilarious."

"Hey," said Patrick. "You guys did what no other character has ever done. Literally no one else has fic hopped as much as you have, let alone outrun the police as much as you have. You and your group got guts. And that's coming from a secret agent."