Can't You Help Me as I'm Starting to Burn? (My Chemical Romance)

The light of the early morning sun cascaded down onto the vast fields that yielded no more than sparse blades of grass. Dawn was rapidly approaching.

Clouds heavy with the onslaught of a thunder storm growled as they rolled down onto the open plain.

For the villagers who had awoken, the crunching of gravel under rubber tyres could be heard as a dark escalade crept down the dirt trail into a neighbouring field.

A car with windows blacked- out, and registration plate non-existent, would have normally attracted a certain amount of attention from the sheltered lives of those who resided there.

But today was no ordinary day.

The headlights that had been used to guide the driver were switched off as he sat in a readied position, waiting.

The engine was shut off and all noise was eliminated before too much attention could be drawn. A car like that immersed into a village that remote could do with all the invisibility it could illusion.

The driver sat, and waited. Sticking out his arm, thus retracting the sleeve of his jacket, he glanced calmly at his watch.

Time was of the essence for the deal to go down, and if the broker didn’t arrive soon all tranquillity would be lost, of that he was most certainly sure.

Keeping a steady eye on the horizon, the driver began to hum to himself as two obscure lights suddenly appeared in his eye line. Time was approaching.

The tone-deaf hum of his coarse voice increased in decibels as a result of excitement from the oncoming vehicle. He began to prepare himself.

Reaching down to where his feet were nervously resting, he raised up a gun and a shiny metallic cylinder. Originally intended for protection, and he slowly screwed the silencer onto the end.

Glancing back up towards where the lights had first originated, he smiled a sinister grin. The headlights of the oncoming vehicle were now forthcoming at a great speed.

Apparently the driver of that car hadn’t been as careful and took the necessary precautions.

The familiar crunching of gravel under rubber was heard as the car drove up – almost bonnet-to-bonnet with the other. There were two men in the secondary car.

The two drivers then stepped out and stood face-to-face.

“I trust you brought the product?” the first asked, although the way in which he did was bordering more on a demand than a question.

For, if the broker hadn’t brought the product in question, he would soon be eating a bullet.

“But of course, and I trust you brought the money?”

The fact of the matter was that the only money within the vicinity of the two cars belonged to the villagers. There never was any intention on making a payment.

“But of course,” he retorted grimly, mimicking the other.

“Hand it over” the newer arrival stated meticulously as he was approached. The sudden movement startled him, and he suddenly lurched backwards.

“I want to see the money first,” the man wavered, showing the first signs of fear – despite doing all in his power to supress such feelings.

But the client meant business. And he would obtain the product by any means necessary. Even if it meant killing minor-scale before he had the power to do so on a major-scale.

He meant business.

“Hand it over, and then you’ll get your money” he snarled in a violent response, bearing his teeth to the man in front of him.

The sun was rising quite nicely above the plains, and highlighting the beauty of the quaint village that lay beneath.

Of course, neither man involved with such deal saw it that way. To them the village was merely a liability that could be eliminated, proving a point and showing the rest of the world that it was war and they were just the first victims.

To them, the lives of the residents were worth nothing more than the ground they stood on and were more than expendable.

“H – Here you go,” the man spoke softly, edging his way closer by an inch with every small step. He held out an emaciated arm. His elongated, cracked fingers were wrapped tightly around a small phial.

The other man did not accept. Instead, he flashed a look most cynical.

“Let me just get the rest of them from the trunk.”

As the man turned away and walked towards the car – his intentions were inadvertently brought to light. He was going for his gun, and he was going to shoot the stranger before him.

Within a split second, a metallic click could be heard just above the voluble gust of wind. That was followed by the sound of a crack, and the subsequent groan from the driver.

It was the distinct groan that made the man turn away from the trunk and see the horror of his dead friend. His eyes were still open.

He slowly began to turn towards the man, wielding a gun.

“Drop the weapon, and hand them over. All of them” he shouted, rousing a few birds within the surrounding trees.

“Or what?”

“Or, I’ll make you eat lead and take them myself.”

The man reluctantly dropped his weapon and returned to walking behind to the trunk, followed by the other who now had a gun pointed directly at his head.

He angrily scooped the metal box from deep within the trunk and rested it on the side. “You aren’t going to pay me, are you?” he questioned, knowingly.

“Nope.”

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” he asked again, even more knowingly than the first time.

That question was answered with an action, rather than a word.

At that moment, he ate lead.

With a swift smile, the remaining man alive kicked him to the side. He began to chuckle to himself as he clasped his fingers around the metal container – gasping shortly because of the sudden chill to hit his fingers as he tightly gripped.

He slowly walked back over to his car, watching vigilantly where he placed his feet each time he took a stride – he could not afford to fall over. He could not afford to get caught. And the world could not afford him to die yet – or so his twisted mind thought.

Unlocking his trunk, and placing the container ever-so gently, he became somewhat mad on the power he wielded.

He could imagine the dominance he would have once the government learned of the contents in the neat little phials. And he liked it.

He slammed the door down, abruptly lifting it a couple of times to make sure that it was in fact closed. He couldn’t afford anything else to go wrong.

He sat back into the escalade and drove off, not needing to turn the headlights on again. It was light enough now.

He drove away, humming the same tune over and over again out loud.

It would be a long time before anyone in the village would discover the bodies. They would be too afraid to go near the car for a few weeks at least.

That was, if any of them even noticed that it was parked there.

The man drove off in a smug mood, confident that he would be able to wreak havoc long before he could be tracked down.

Who knows? He may even be dead by then.

But there was one thing, one very miniscule thing that he had neither noticed nor counted on.

As he shot the broker, the phial in his hand had smashed.