Here it is, my long-awaited new fic! I can't believe I'm saying this: But I don't think I can continue writing My Beautiful Romance on my own. I would appreciate a co-authorship! I don't care who you are! :) Cause I love you all!

Please leave me a nice review...I would appreciate it. If I don't get at least 7 reviews on chapter 1 alone, then I won't update this story, and will try another one of my prompts. Ok? Good. I'm glad we're clear.

Disclaimer: I do not own MCR. Or the mafia. This fic is dedicated to my friend Andrew, for being my Mafia!muse :) "Donna talk about da family!" I love you! See you in July, when Princess Jump reunites once again!

Now, review!

The black 2008 Maserati GranTurismo sped down the highway just a tad bit over the speed limit. The road was otherwise empty of vehicles, so the driver didn't mind speeding a little bit in his haste. His destination was of most importance.

"The black dress, with the tights underneath-"

Not the right song. Not for this mission. He needed something to get his blood pulsing in his veins. He needed something to make him throw his hair around manically. He desperately needed something better than the crap on the radio.

"Never say never-"

Definitely not Rhianna. Not now and not ever. "Come on," he shouted at his stereo, switching to a CD; out blared a very heart-pounding, head-banging, mind-numbing song. Iron Maiden's "Run To The Hills".

"Much better," he smiled to himself. Gerard looked in his mirror, pleased with his appearance. His shirt was snow-white and starched perfectly. His tie was crimson silk, making stark contrast from his black suit and matching raven hair. He loved his hair, chin-length and an inky midnight black. His eyes, hazel/green and rimmed with black as well, were his best feature. His smile was slightly crooked due to his lack of a dental history (He was scared of needles…so no Novocain…and therefore no mouth procedures). He began to sing along with the next song, "You say I waste my life away, but I live it to the full. How would you know anyway, you're just mister dull? We don't need no, no no no, parental guidance here."

From beside him, his cell phone rang. He turned the radio off and picked up the small piece of black plastic, reading the caller ID. Mikey Way, it blinked in small blue letters. He pressed the button and held it to his ear. "Yes?"

"Where are you?" his brother sounded rather frantic. "The meeting started early today and Father isn't very happy!"

"Sorry, I had a little trouble at the drop spot," Gerard mumbled angrily, glaring at the road up ahead. Just one more mile and he would be there.

"Well hurry up!" and the call was terminated. No one needed to know what Gerard Arthur Way was up to tonight. Noses were not meant to be poked into business such as his.

"Here we are," he said to himself as he swung into the parking lot of a dingy motel, flinging his car door open and jogging inside. He ran up the stairs two at a time, stopping in front of room 324 to brush his hair back one final time. He knocked in the coded pattern; twice and a pause, then three times more. The dilapidating wooden portal swung open to reveal a hunched over little man in a suit. His graying hair was hidden under a cabby cap and his eyes were sharp. He looked Gerard up and down.

"Finally, we've been waiting for you to report," he sniffed. Gerard shook his head a little, stepping brusquely past him into the room. His father sat at the head of a long mahogany table, his heavily-ringed fingers crossed in front of him, his head leaning on his hands.

"Where have you been, Gerard?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice. Gerard cleared his throat. His adopted father was not someone you messed with.

"The target was having some…sentimental issues at the drop spot that took longer than usual to sort out. I'm extremely sorry sir," Gerard said, bowing at the waist (as is proper). Mr. Martin shook his head sadly.

"You must learn the art of efficiency. Since it is something so minor, and your first offence, I won't punish you for it." Gerard breathed a sigh of relief at this. "Now come sit down and let's get this meeting started. I have new jobs for all of you!"

Gerard took his seat next to his girlfriend, Alice. She sat straight-backed in her black silk dress. Her ebony hair fell to her porcelain shoulders in gentle waves, curling ever so gently at the ends. Her eyes, one-tenth darker brown than his, sparkled in the dim light. He loved her so much. She made him want to drop his line of work and find another. She made him want to be responsible and smart. But it was hard to get untangled from a spider's web. Especially Mr. Vincenzo Martin's web.

"Gerard, your assignment first," the leader boomed, passing a manila envelope down the line of seats. "I want you to take out the Iero's kid. Frankie."

"Yes sir," Gerard said grimly. The Ieros were their rivals, especially since there had been recent territory border issues. The Martins had control of most of the lower-south part of New Jersey. The Ieros took care of the upper-south part. Lately, Iero family members had been showing up where they weren't wanted. Gerard's reason for being late was a transaction concerning an Iero family member they'd held hostage and demanded ransom for.

"We need to keep them off our property," Mr. Martin declared with an air of finality. Then he passed and envelope to Alice and Addison. 'Double A' was the feminine dream-team of the Martin Mafia. "You girls will be taking care of some payment issues downtown."

"Yes sir," the girls said in unison. Unlike most Mafias, the girls in the Martin Family were active field agents. They went on just as many missions as the men did. Because while the more modern Mafias held their women like prizes or pretty pieces of furniture, the Martins used them to the best of their ability. Even if the girls were engaged to another member of the same Family. Addison, despite being single, was pretty. She had dirty blond hair that came to her shoulders in a sheer curtain. It was pin-straight and most often held up in a loose bun. Her eyes were icy blue and menacing, although they changed to a teal color when she was amused or excited.

After the assignment ceremony was over, the meeting was adjourned and the members dispersed to their seedy little hideaways. Alice hooked her arm through Gerard's and pulled him along. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"Well I want a glass of champagne and a nice little chat," she said, smirking up at him. "Don't you Geebaby?" Being the polar opposite that he was, Gerard liked his girlfriend's odd little pet name for him.

"Of course I do," he smiled, opening her car door for her. "Anything for my Alice in Wonderland."

"Oh Gee, you make me blush," she giggled, holding a black-nailed hand over her mouth. Gerard thought she was absolutely irresistible. "Can I see your assignment file?"

"Sure," he handed her the envelope and watched her delicate fingers practically rip it open. Like a hungry animal.

"I wish the boss trusted me enough to do jobs like yours," she pouted. Her significant other wrapped an arm around the back of her car seat.

"I wish I didn't have to do this job. I wish I could find another one, a simple one. A job where I could provide for you and still be safe," he said, looking her in the eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled into the parking lot of an Italian restaurant.

"Well I kind of like it," Alice murmured with a shrug. "The killing, the suspense, the adrenaline. Everything about being in the Mafia. It's fun."

"It's fun until you get shot," Gerard condoned. Alice nodded in agreement and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I love you Geebaby," she whispered.

"I love you too Alice," Gerard smiled down at her. She looked up through her eyelashes. "Very much."

FRANK IERO'S POV

"You've gotta get out of the state, better yet, get out of the country!" Rob was nearly shouting, shaking my shoulders for emphasis. "The Martins are coming after you!"

"How would you know?" I asked, strumming my Les Paul affectionately. Up one side of her body read the black-white-and-shiny-sticker-applied-word PANSY, my beautiful friend. Rob's eyes fell, his hands leaving my shoulders to twist awkwardly in his lap. I knew without looking that he was biting his lip, a childhood habit he resorted to when extremely nervous.

"Your Father hired me to spy on the Martin Mafia for him," he confessed. I shot up, dropping Pansy onto my black-silk bedspread and facing my friend. He still looked ashamed. "It was for the Family's protection!"

"You are not under any circumstances to risk your life for something so stupid!" I enunciated. Each word could have been its own sentence. "My father can deal with things any other way he wants. Risking my best friend's life is not an option."

"But it was the only way," Rob argued. "They know everyone else."

"And what happens when one of them spots you on our territory?" I asked, looking up at him through my black bangs. He shook his head.

"If they see me, then I won't return to their territory. I'll get moved to another area. I'm a spy, Frank, that's how I was trained!"

"What happens when-" I was interrupted by a knock at the door. My father stepped in, looking grim in his grey business suit and black tie.

"Pack up, Frank," he said softly, his frown deepening when his eyes grazed over Pansy. "And no taking the guitar. Too risky."

"What?" I asked. "What's happening?"

"It's for your own safety," my father snapped, slamming the door shut. He loved me very much, there wasn't one childhood memory of him I didn't smile about, but I didn't want to leave. The Martins were dangerous, sure, but nothing could harm me in my own household. Except maybe the slightly-deranged maid, Clementine. But that was an entirely different story.

"Just do as he says," Rob half-smiled reassuringly. "I'll be in contact soon."

"Promise?" I asked, the reality sinking in a little more at his parting words. Words that usually would have gone unsaid. "Please promise me you're not lying."

"I promise," he smiled, before following my father out the door. The silence in my room was deafening as I packed my small bag. It was a duffel my mother had bought me for Art Camp all those years ago. Paint stains still marred the sides and the zipper was doomed to fall off within the next five uses. The raggedy thing was ancient! Yet as I angrily slammed clothes and shoes into it, it held firm. After I was finished, my father met me downstairs at the back door.

"Frank, my son. You've grown so much, promise me that you won't get mixed up in anything bad where you're going," he said, laying his pudgy hand on my slim shoulder. He squeezed gently, assuring me of his love and support. Blinking back tears and choking on a sentimental sob, I nodded.

"I promise Dad," I said, dropping the duffel and throwin my arms around the older man. The man who had been there when mother died, the man who had come to all of my childhood talent shows. I was finally letting go of him to live on my own for a little while. "Which car should I take?"

"I think you should take the least noticeable, with the bulletproof windows," he said. "There's a trunk full of cash in the old Hyundi."

"Thanks," I said tearfully. "I love you, and I promise to return when things are safe again."

"Please do," he said, giving me a last parting hug and patting my black-clad shoulder. I walked through the garage and ended up in the front seat of my first car. The trunk, which also carried a case of money for future use, had a gun in it. I gulped, my breath feeling ice-cold in my lungs. I never knew just how serious this thing was getting. Rock hard realization settled in the pit of my stomach. I was suddenly queasy, but waved the feeling off as I drove down the dark road. I was on the run from an assassin.