Tell Rock and Roll I'm Alone Again

[Fall Out Boi]

Patrick couldn't breathe. Some kind of fabric hood was covering his entire head, fastened tightly around his neck. As if that wasn't restricting his breathing enough, what little air did manage to squeeze through the cloth was drenched with the stench of smoke. His throat burned harshly with each intake of the polluted air, but he found himself having to heave it in more frantically with every fleeting moment just to fill his lungs.


He wished he could use his hands to get the damn hood off. Or hand. It felt like one of them was gone, but the rope binding his wrists together was so tight that the blood circulation may have just been cut off from it. Surprisingly enough, the possibility of a missing appendage wasn't on the top of his list of things to be worried about, nor was choking on the smoke. What he was really worried about was where the smoke was coming from in the first place.


It was so hot in the crammed space he was in. It seemed like he was trapped in some kind of tiny room. He swore he could hear a crackling fire. Damn, it was so hot. If he didn't die from the smoke, he would surely burn to death.


There were other people there, too, huddled up beside him and squirming around. Their warm body temperature only added to the unbearable heat.


He had no clue who they were. How could he? He didn't even know how he got into this situation, much less who his equally unlucky companions were.


Whoever they were, he hoped one of them had a bright idea to get them out of here. He couldn't stand this for much longer. Jesus, why was there so much smoke?!


He tried letting out a muffled cry for help, but his own long string of deep coughs cut himself off. Why he even tried to call out, he wasn't sure. Maybe for comfort. Maybe he really did believe someone would hear and help out. He didn't care. He just wanted out.

 

[twink magazines]

Pete was lightheaded from breathing in the thick, smoke filled air through the heavy fabric covering his head, tied tightly around his throat, which wasn't helping him breath. He could feel the fire closing in on him and who he could only assume were his friends, who were also struggling to get free of the bounds around their wrists.


Squiming around in the intense heat, he feels something sharp and scorching hot prick him in the leg. Something sharp... He maneuvered himself to where his back was to the pointed object, careful not to touch his wrists to the hot metal, he rapidly sawed at the rope around his wrists. slowly, it loosened around his wrists until he could pull them free. He quickly untied the rope from his neck and removed the heavy sack, relieved but not completely freed from the intense heat of the fire. He looked around through the heavy smoke to see His friends still struggling with their bounds.


He blindly found his was to the door of whatever they were in. It had to have a door, right? He frantically grabbed for a handle, latch, or anything that would free them. He finally felt the exit and pulled it open, grabbing whoever was closest to the door first, who happened to be Patrick. Pete then saw what the metal had been. A hook replaced where his left hand should have been. He flung him out of the vehicle and grabbed Joe and Andy, then jumped out himself.


Coughing, they all tore off their hoods and found their way out of the rope around their wrists. They looked around at each other, bewildered. Where in the world were they? What happened?

 

[Fall Out Boi]

Whoever was squirming beside Patrick needed to stop. They weren't accomplishing anything with their struggling, all they were doing was bumping into him again, and again, and again. Would they please stop?!


He was almost tempted to ram back into them in a fit of irritated rage, but they became strangely still before he could. In fact, it kind of felt like they were completely gone...


Suddenly a blast of fresh, smokeless air hit him. He heaved in as much of it as he could manage through the hood, frantically filling his polluted lungs with the pureness as if every gasp of air was his last.


Unfortunately, his relief was short lived. The air escaped him in the form of a startled gasp as he was roughly yanked to his feet and flung off of something.


Somehow he landed on his feet, although not with grace. After hitting the ground, he stumbled clumsily a few steps until he finally got footing. Once stable, he started wiggling his wrists out of their bounds. They were much easier to loosen now that he was standing, but in order to weaken the knots he had to jerk around like a madman in a straight jacket. Maybe that was what he was, an insane person. He couldn't be completely sane and wind end up in a situation as crazy as this.


Finally freed from the ropes, he yanked the hood off his head. It felt so nice to be able to breathe without restriction, but he wasn't completely free. The strong scent of smoke was still all around him, and whoever threw him was still behind him. Crap, what was he doing?! He needed to run!


Before he did, a muffled string of coughs sounded from behind him. He spun around It was a person on their knees, face covered by a hood like his with their hands fastened behind their back. They were trying to stand up, but whenever they managed to plant a foot on the ground another fit of coughing overtook them and they fell back.


He glanced up to the car the person was crouched before, where he assumed they both had been thrown out. The smoke bellowing out from the back was so dense he couldn't make out who or what was inside. He looked back to the coughing individual. Whoever tossed them out was still in there, and most likely held no good intentions for either of them. If he left now, he could surely get away. He couldn't just leave them, though!


Quickly, he rushed over to the other. He looped his arm around theirs and helped them up, hurriedly guiding them a few feet away from the smoking van before bringing them both to a halt. He tore off the hood first, since they were having trouble breathing in the first place. to see that it wasn't a stranger at all, but instead his friend Joe. Joe looked at him with wide eyes, and Patrick exchanged the shocked stare.


"Holy shit, Joe?! Are you okay?!"


He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was another rough fit of coughs. Instead he nodded in response, motioning behind him to tell him to untie his hands.


Going around him, Patrick went to undo the bounds. He reached out with both hands towards the rope...that was, until he noticed he only had one hand.


Horror overtook him as he stared at the hook that covered where his hand should be. He tried to move his fingers, wishing to feel something, anything, with them, but had nothing there.


This couldn't be happening. This could NOT be real. What the HELL was going on?!


He heard a thump come from the car, and his stomach dropped. Shit. They needed to go, now.


He frantically began fumbling to untie the binds with his only hand, but soon realized that wasn't doing anything and resorted to sawing away at it with his hook. Watching it tear back and forth through the ropes terrified him. He shouldn't have a hook, he should have a hand! Why the hell was he missing a hand?!


The moments the ropes, he snapped around towards the car. He saw Pete helping Andy out of his restraints, but no sign of danger.


"Are you guys okay?!" He called to them. Were they safe now? Why where they here?! What was going on?!


He felt something cold bumping against his leg. It was his arm trembling, forcing the hook against his leg again and again. He held up his remaining hand to see that it was shaking as well. Crap, all of him was shaking.