Reverend Gerard Way wasn’t sure how the hell he’d ended up back in this old dump of a town, but here he was, leaning up against on old rusted pick up truck in Annville, Texas. His ex-boyfriend Pansy and that motherfucking vampire, Bob, were still inside the local diner while he tried to get a moment of peace. The two had been at it again, arguing over some worthless piece of shit. Finishing up the cigarette in his mouth, Gerard flicked the butt to the ground and lit up another. Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the driver side window of the pickup and loosened up his priestly collar. 

“So Pilgrim, it seems you been forgettin’ what you was goin’ ta do,” said a low, drawling voice. 

Gerard sighed. He was back again: the famous cowboy and figment of his subconscious, Michael Way. He opened his eyes, took another drag, and looked expectantly at his childhood hero. 

“Ya see, Pilgrim,” Michael continued, “ya were supposed to stop that bastard.” 

Gerard knew what bastard he was talking about. They called him the Saint of Killers. He had been brought back to life by an Adephi angel, but the poor guy had his brains blown out the second the Saint of Killers got out of his coffin. His sole purpose was to kill Genesis which was a spawn of an angel and a demon. It was a comet with the face of an infant and was being kept captive by the Adephi in order to protect the masses for its power was greater than Heaven itself. Somehow, it escaped from Heaven and was looking for a home. It ended up finding one in Gerard's corrupted soul. 

Gerard sucked in another lungful of smoke. “Yeah,” he said, “I know.” 

Michael nodded. And, without ceremony, he vanished. Gerard finished off the cigarette and lit up another. Suddenly, Pansy came storming out of the diner, hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans, a pout on his face accentuating his lip ring. Bob followed, Camel cigarette in hand. 

Gerard shook his head as Pansy slammed himself against the side of the truck. 

“Bob’s being a fuck head again,” Pansy huffed by way of explanation. 

Gerard laughed and said in the voice of Genesis that gave him all the power of God's own word, “Bob! Get the fuck over here!” 

Bob, against his own will, joined the two at the truck. “You know I hate it when you do that fucker,” he said, cigarette in his mouth. “So, preacher, where we be headed?” 

Gerard looked at Bob. “My instincts are tellin’ me to go to the Annville church, but I don’t know,” he said, dropping the finished cigarette to the ground and stomping out with his foot. “All’s I know is that we’ve gotta catch that son of a bitch who keeps trying to put a bullet in my skull.” 

Bob nodded, agreeing. 

Pansy just stood there with a perturbed look on his face. 

Gerard lit up another Marlboro and hopped into the truck. Without a word, the other two followed, Bob jumping into the backseat. 

The drive down the old dirt road was silent until Pansy spoke up. “Gerard,” he said a nervous twinge in his voice. 

“Yeah?” Gerard asked. 

“I’m fucking worried,” Pansy confessed. 

Gerard smirked. “Got your gun?” 

Pansy reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a pistol. “Got it.” 

“Then there’s no need to worry,” Gerard said, his eyes back on the road. 

After several more minutes, the men pulled up at an abandoned, and partially blown up church. They all got out and approached the church with caution. It was dead silent except for the crunching of their feet on the dirt. 

“Why would he be here?” Pansy asked, taking out his gun. 

Gerard approached a wooden cross lying on the ground and poked it with his leather boot. “Not sure really,” he said, dropping the rest of his cigarette on the cross. 

Suddenly, the half destroyed door of the church swung open. Gerard looked at the other two quickly, before motioning for them to follow him. 

Gun cocked and loaded, he stepped inside the doorway and into the ruins of the old Annville church. He crept down the aisle that was nearly masked in collapsed pews and dust, swinging the gun slowly from left to right, a few lit candles that he failed to notice guiding his way through the dark church. The Saint of Killers was nowhere in sight, or so he thought. 

“I see you’ve decided to show up,” said the son of a bitch himself a slight Jersey accent in his voice. He was standing atop the crumbling altar, candles surrounding it like fire. His massive amount of hair, crushed under a cowboy hat, seemed to almost glow in the candlelight. 

“Sure have,” said Gerard in a calm voice, his gun aimed at the Saint. 

“Now then,” the Saint said, “let’s get on with it.” 

Shots rang out as Gerard fired his gun, hitting the Saint of Killers square in the chest. Pansy joined Gerard and fired two shots straight at the Saint’s face. 

The Saint just laughed and whipped out two guns from the holsters at his sides and fired shot after shot. 

“Get the fuck down!” Gerard shouted, yanking Pansy down towards the floor, shielding them both behind a pew as bullets ricocheted off the walls. Bob paid him no mind as he snuck up the aisle towards the Saint. He climbed atop the altar and gave the Saint a solid punch in the lower back. The Saint toppled sideways onto the ground managing to strike Bob hard with the side of his gun. “Fucking motherfucker,” Bob shouted and launched at the fallen Saint.
Four gun shots were fired in quick succession straight through Bob’s back. 

Bob just scoffed, the blood streaming down his back, but not making him any weaker, “Fuck, you’ll hafta try harder than that.” He grinned down at the angry gunman, bearing his teeth as if preparing for the kill. 

The Saint of Killers shoved his guns into Bob’s gut and pushed him off forcefully onto the floor. Standing up, he slammed his heavy boot into Bob’s face. 

“Shite,” Bob moaned. 

The Saint of Killers spit on Bob and turned to the other two, guns wielded. 

“Fuck you, you fucking bastard,” Pansy cried out in a fit of rage and started firing his gun at the Saint. His shots just bounced off and hit the dusty floor with a dull clatter. The Saint of Killers kept moving towards Pansy before cocking his gun and shooting him straight in the stomach. 

Pansy’s eyes went wide and his hands clenched his sides as he slowly fell towards the ground. He lay there, face down and breathing heavily. 

Gerard took one look at Pansy and cried out in rage. ‘Fuck shooting him,’ he thought and launched at the Saint striking him in the back of the head with his gun. The Saint stumbled, and Gerard pounded the gun into the back of the Saint’s knees. He toppled down, landing heavily as Gerard tried to find some way to destroy him. 

‘The candles,’ he thought. He ran up towards the altar and grabbed one. 

Turning around, candles in hand, he watched the Saint of Killers get up. “What are you going to do with those?” he asked. 

Gerard grinned menacingly, “I’m gonna burn this fucker down.” With that, he picked up a chunk of wood that was lying near the altar and set half of it on fire. He aimed and chucked it at the Saint, watching as its clothes caught on fire rapidly. Taking another candle, he threw it behind the altar. Soon, all of the candles were gone and the fire was spreading quickly throughout the church, consuming what was left of it. 

Jumping off the altar, Gerard nudged Bob with his foot. “Get up,” he said quickly. 

Bob opened his eyes and stood, his face just as it was before. “Lemme light this fag first,” Bob said, sticking a cigarette into a huge flame behind him. 

“Fuck that Bob,” Gerard shouted. 

Soon, the individual flames began to join together and multiply in size. In the center of the spectacle was the Saint of Killers watching the flames with mild shock. 

Gerard ran up to Pansy, who was lying on the ground moaning softly, painfully. 

“Pansy,” he said softly, turning him over as gently as possible. 

“...Yeah?” Pansy said with difficulty. 

Gerard just grinned and brushed the hair from Pansy’s forehead. Looking back he saw the flames rushing towards them, Bob nowhere in sight. Carefully, but quickly, he picked Pansy up in his arms. 

“...Gerard...where are we going?” Pansy whispered. 

Gerard had no time to answer as the flames began to draw even closer, threatening to singe his eyebrows. Without a second thought, Gerard ran, fast, out of the church and into the night, Pansy clutched tightly to his chest.