Demolition Lovers

“Keep 'em coming, Dave,” Gerard Way slurred. The drunk man rolled a bill into the empty shot glass and slid it down the counter top. Outside, the rain poured heavily onto the mostly empty Lower East Side street. Lightening flashed through the window, thunder followed. Gerard wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket while Dave poured him another glass of cheap whiskey. Another burst of thunder cracked and the door to the dingy bar swung open, a dark figure standing in the doorway. “You know Dave, sometimes I think that I'm never ever ever gonna get out of this place.”

“Mm. With that attitude you most certainly won't.” The bartender handed him a clean glass of alcohol and leaned over the counter, lighting a cigarette. “Setting yourself up to failure, that's what I like to call it.”

“I'd love to explore and roam the countryside. I never got out much as a kid.” he sipped the liquor and put his head in his hands.

“Good evening sir,” Dave said as the stranger approached the bar and sat a two seats away from Gerard. “What would you like?”

“Your strongest vodka would be great. Thank you Mr...?”

“Harrington, but call me Dave.”

“Dave. I'm Bert.” The two shook hands after Bert took a sip from the shot glass.

“And I'm Gerard. How d' ya do?” The drunk man feebly waved.

“Well, I'm going to go listen to the news. Don't steal or I'll know about it. Gerard, I'm talking to you.” Dave pointed to the intoxicated young man and closed the door to the back room.

“As always,” he mumbled into his sleeve, looking up a tad at the stranger.

“So Gerard, you seem like quite an interesting man.” Bert stared, eying him up and down. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Well... Grew up in New Jersey. I got good marks all through school. Teachers didn't like me much. Guess they thought I was too morbid for them. Took a few classes at the university. Why?” Gerard blinked and tried to focus on the man in front of him.

“I think you'll be quite helpful for the company that I work for. I see you around, and you seem like quite an intelligent man. You'd be perfect for the part.”

“What kind of business do you speak of?”

“The killing business. The murder scene. I'm what one would call an underboss. It's not all bad. Imagine all of the money I earn and the satisfaction I get. How does that sound to you, Mr. Way?”

“Golly! That sounds... quite exciting.” Gerard hiccuped.

“Ah yes, it is indeed. It is rather dangerous though. I have to watch my back constantly. Are you still interested?”

“Of course.”

“Well then, Mr. Way. I have a deal for you. If I win, you have to work for me. If I lose, than you can go about your normal life. Now, if I win, you absolutely cannot back out. Are we clear on that?”

“Mhmm. Let's get on with it.” The two men shook hands and finished off their alcohol.

“How are you at poker, Mr. Way?”

…

“No way.” Gerard's jaw dropped when Bert revealed his full house.

“I win.” He smirked and stood up, brushing his dark grey shirt off and pulling his coat on. “I'll see you tomorrow, I suppose. It was a pleasure meeting you Gerard,” said Bert, winking and snapping his suspenders.

“Now wait. Please don't go,” replied Gerard as he stumbled up. “Please don't leave me. I get awful lonely.”

“Not tonight, my friend. Not tonight.” Bert put his cap on and kissed the tip of Gerard's nose. “Have a nice evening,” he called and slipped into the night.

Gerard shrugged and made his way upstairs and into his apartment, collapsing on the bed. He dreamt of nothing, just blackness tumbling into blackness.