Keep the Faith

The men tore down the alley, trying their best not to slip on the slick, grimy ground. Hot on their heels was an entire mob of angry people, spewing a variety of swear words. Some were clutching heavy sticks, kitchen knives, any kind of weapon they could get their hands on. One of the men looked back, right into the hateful eyes of one of his pursuers, panicked, and ran faster.

Their hearts pounded, pounded, pounded -- so hard, in fact, that they were almost certain it would leave brands on their chests -- but neither the sound of that in their ears nor their laboured pants would block out the voices of the mob behind them. What happened? the men wondered. How did things get to be like this? What did we do?

Mikey, ever the clumsy one, tripped over a pothole that his bandmates had simply leapt over, and he fell hard. His chin hit the ground. A sharp pain -- his teeth sinking into his tongue -- and his mouth was suddenly filled with blood. Most of the mob descended upon him like starving vultures; some of them opted instead to give chase to the other four men, who were oblivious to their bandmate's peril.

Poor Mikey was terrified, and he tried to yell at the people leering at him. Instead of a warning not to touch him, blood came spraying from his mouth, splattering down his front and across the faces of those nearest to him. As they recoiled in disgust, two new voices cut through the cold night air.

One, completely new to him, screamed, "No!"

And then, a more familiar one: "Shit! Mikey!"

"Gee, help me!" he cried, blood bubbling from between his lips. Tens of furious, now bloody faces closed in on him. Under the blood, those faces were white with anger. Weapons shook along with the hands holding them, the skin stretched taut over the knuckles -- they shook with rage with the uncontrollable desire to destroy the man who lay sprawled on the ground before them.

And then, without warning, something pushed in and broke the ring of people around Mikey. They looked around, bewildered. Who dared do this to them? Who dared anger them further when they were practically frothing at the mouth with bloodlust? When they realised, their eyes doubled in size. A group of teenagers! A group of teenagers, stupid and foolish, with a deathwish of some sort, it seemed.

The teenagers looked scared, yet determined. The same defiant look was in all of their eyes when one of them snarled, "You want him, you're getting through us first."

Meanwhile, further up, the four men were doing their utmost best to break through the ranks of what was left of the mob without getting killed. They fought and they pushed and they struggled, straining with every ounce of strength they had. The screaming all around them held no meaning -- mindless yells, battle cries and the like. But Gerard... Gerard, he screamed his brother's name over and over again, fighting to get even a glimpse of him, terrified that they would hurt his brother. Oh, they would try to hurt him, no doubt about it; he just needed to be there to take the blows for him.

Gerard noticed that they were suddenly joined by a few figures, who seemed to be helping them take down some of the mob. But he didn't look; he didn't have the time. All that mattered now was that he keep screaming Mikey's name and telling him to hold on, and actually getting to him, making sure that he was okay. He had to be okay, he had to. He promised Grandma Elena, and God knows that Gerard Way would rather die than break a promise, especially one he made to someone so special to him

One of the figures knocked down a member of the mob, creating a small gap in the wall of people. Gerard dashed through it, ramming past anyone who got in his way. He ran and he ran, heading for the small crowd of people up ahead, and he screamed so loud that his throat felt like it might rip apart, but he didn't care; Mikey was all that mattered now, Mikey Mikey Mikey, and he had to keep him safe if it was the last thing he did.

"Hungh!"

Something large and heavy flew into Gerard, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground with two men on top of him, completely winded. As he struggled out from under them, he realised that there was something wrong with his ankle. When he went down, he'd felt something rip, and now he was in excruciating pain. But Mikey was still in trouble, he could hear him yelling; he had to get his ass over there to help him. Now. He managed to unpin himself with some difficulty, getting a glimpse of the faces of the men who were on him. One was Frank and the other, an enemy. Both were unconscious.

Heart pounding, he clambered painfully to his feet. "Mikey," he panted. "Mikey!"

"I'm here, I'm okay!"

Suddenly, Mikey was at his side -- Mikey, Mikey, safe, unhurt, whole. Gerard looked him over quickly, confirming that his brother was indeed unmaimed. He took a step back when he was satisfied, shifting his weight onto his bad ankle. His entire leg crumpled, and Mikey had to grab him and pull him to his feet. Gerard wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders for support. They were suddenly aware of the figures around them, standing and watching silently.

Gerard swallowed once, parted his dry lips. "Who are you?" He realised he might have sounded rude, and tried to look as grateful as his grubby features would allow. Before any of them could answer, a commotion broke out further down the street.

One of the mob members had brought a flaming branch to Bob's leg, setting it on fire. They'd managed to pin him down -- each limb, save for the burning one -- so that he wasn't able to put it out. Bob was flailing and twisting madly, screaming, screaming, screaming. His eyes bulged and his mouth worked -- his face was a mask of pain, made to look even worse by the flickering light of the fire. Gerard and Mikey stared, immobile, mesmerised. It was Ray who leapt at Bob.

With a yell, he charged at the man pinning down Bob's other leg, tackling him. There was a brief struggle, but panic gave Bob strength and he managed to break loose. Stop, drop, roll; stop, drop roll; stop, drop, roll, and the fire was out. Bob lay on the ground, shaking.

Gerard glanced around. What was left of the mob had fled. Mikey let out the occasional hiccup, but seemed unhurt and fine. Ray -- good, old Ray -- had fought off the last of them and was walking over to Bob. Frank had come to and looked fine, albeit a little dazed.

Gerard, Mikey and Frank made their way over to Bob, Gerard leaning heavily on his brother. Bob was sitting up and he gave them a pained grimace.

"You okay?" asked Mikey quietly.

"No. But I will be."

"Guys?"

Five heads whipped around, wary of more attacks. It was the group of teenagers who'd helped them fight off the mob. They relaxed. A little bit.

"We... We're KTFers. We believe in you. I-- I'm sorry, this must sound so corny."

"No," said Gerard. "Go on."

" 'Katie effers'?" asked Bob.

" 'KTF' stands for 'Keep the Faith'. It's what we do. We keep the faith in you guys, we believe, even when no one else does. We write. We're rallying writers, and we're going to publish this book and get it to you, it's going to be amazing."

"Some of us," said another one, "we've lost the faith before. But the important thing is, we got it back. All of us, we believe in you, we think what you guys are doing here is amazing. And there are more than a few of us who have had our lives saved by you, your music. So... I think this was the least we could do for you."

" 'Keep the Faith'," someone added. "As in, the tattoo on Frank's back."

"Aww, man," grinned Frank.

"You know, said Gerard suddenly. "I heard a bit of what they shouted at us. They said that I've changed. One of them said I was back on drugs." He absently reached out to wipe blood from Mikey's mouth.

"Rumours," spat Mikey, and Gerard pulled his hand back. "They don't know a damn thing about you."

"They... They don't know a thing about my sins..." he said softly, a faraway look in his eyes.

"How the misery began," said a girl.

"And I'm burning. Well, I burned," Bob smiled wryly. A smile lit up Gerard's face.

"I think we need to do another song. And this one will be for our Keep the Faithers."