Chapter Text
Anniston, Alabama is certainly a nice place. It's like the Goldilocks Zone of southern state towns. Not too horrid, not too fancy. The same really can't be said about the people there. Three people with the names of Pete, Jack, and Vic all call this place home. They like to consider themselves as a trio of doom and while they certainly do pretty ugly things they're really over exaggerating. It was all good fun for the three highschool drop outs. They were the kings of Anniston, Alabama, forever leaving a legacy behind their walking hell.
It a hazy Tuesday afternoon, the business around town slow and quiet. The three sat under a large oak tree, a spot they could usually be found at. Pete lifted a hand up and lazily waved it over the grass below them and over all the fields in the distance. "You see this, boys? All of this is ours." He moves his hand to point at his chest then Jack's then Vic's. "We are the kings, the ultimate rulers of this crappy rundown town in an overrated state. We're as white as an egg fresh out of a chicken's butt and as unclean as satan sittin' on his throne in the very place we are headed to after we leave this earth," he says dramatically. Pete crosses his legs and turns a little so he could face both Vic and Jack. "Nothing will ever take that way from us as long as we are feared and we don't fall in love. Promise me boys that you won't fall in love. It's messy and chaotic. Just don't do it," he said, looking at them both. And under that tree, on a hot Tuesday afternoon they promised they wouldn't fall in love.
!Next Day!
There they were again. Sitting under the tree on a cold Wednesday morning in comfortable silence. They always met there at these times. The other hours were spent bringing terror upon small children and running over cats with tractors. Jack yawned, his feet moving in the soft grass as a distraction from the obvious chill in the morning air. Not one second later they heard and saw a bus come lumbering down the dirt road leading into the heart of the town. The three all stood up, wondering what bus would drive from outside the town to drop people off. Anniston was so boring most fell asleep on the way here.
Off the bus came, from the looks of it, three guys that couldn't be older than 25. As soon as the bus drove away the three friends ran down the hill and to them with menacing looks.
"Who are you, guys?" Vic snapped while Pete cracked his knuckles, ready to punch them if he needed too. Let's just say these three fucking suck at social interaction. They think they own the town. The shortest one of the new arrivals, who was wearing a fedora, held up his hands and set his bag down.
"No need to get so defensive, alright? We're just visiting this town, that's all," he said. Jack and Pete exchange looks while Vic is looking the black haired one up and down with a pleased smirk. Jack steps forward, eyeing the one who spoke then the male beside him.
"C'mon, let's get serious here. This town is so disgustingly unimportant the only reason someone would come here would be to dig their own grave," Jack says in a carefree manner, his hands shoved down his jean pockets. "In fact, that's what I was just doing before you three dumplings popped out on the dirt looking fresher than recently washed green beans." He chuckled at his own words. "So, sup with you three? Y'all got names?" He asked, moving his eyes over each person standing before him.
"Why should we tell you? We literally just meet and I don't know if I can trust you," Fedora Man retorts, his lips pulled into a thin line.
"Well you just got life all figured out, don't ya?" Pete grumbles from the back, rolling his eyes at the man's response. Vic glances at the two of them before shrugging.
"I'm Vic Fuentes. I don't really care if you know my name, it's not important," he said, his expression indifferent. Patrick mumbles something under his breath which causes Pete to mumble something under his breath.
"Alright, whatever. I'm Alex. Alex Gaskarth." The brunette to the right of Fedora Man says, gesturing to himself briefly during his personal introduction. Jack flashes him a toothy grin, pleased with how he took charge like that.
"Kellin Quinn," the noirette introduced who looked like all he wanted to do was find a bed and crash. Jack doesn't find himself blaming him whatsoever. He sees Vic eyeing him up and down and rolls his eyes, not even flinching away from his stare.
Fedora Man looks between his two friends, clearly astonished that they said their names so easily. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Fedora Man breaks his 'I-had-helicopter-parents' facade. "I'm Patrick Stump," he grumbles weakly, his sudden look of defeat making him look a lot older.
"Well, that's all fine and dandy but why y'all here? Somebody die?" Vic asks as he raises a messy eyebrow from under his brown hair.
"My hopes and dreams," Kellin fires back without missing a beat, Pete giving a whistle in response. Vic looks surprised that someone other than his two friends so easily responded to him, but he brushed it off.
"Ah, let's just let Patrick do the talking because he's so eager."