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Gerard Way sat at his computer, his fingers tapping a steady beat on the desk. The opened blog on the official My Chemical Romance website stared back at him blankly. His raised his fingers to type, hovered them over the keyboard, then decided against it and picked up his coffee instead. Sipping, he sat back and shut his eyes. What to write... What to write? The band had been gone for so long now. How could he just jump in and act normal? Two years of nothing. The fans knew about the new album, which was on its way, but when was the last time he'd blogged something important? He'd tweeted over the years, but nothing significant. He frowned. The album. The pit of his stomach churned. That feeling again. That worry that something wasn't quite…right. He frowned further. He hadn't told the guys what he was fretting about inside. Angrily, he slammed the coffee cup down. Bandit jumped in her seat and looked up from her breakfast.

"Da da?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. He sighed and raised himself from the chair.

"Bandit Lee Way. Look at this mess you've made!" he gasped, pointing at her tee-shirt which had milk all over it. Her mouth was covered in flecks of Lucky Charms.

"Da da?" she questioned again, her eyes full of innocence. He melted.

"Oh you little… Don't give me the eyes you know I can't resist!" He grinned and she copied him, flashing her two new front teeth. He wiped her down with a dish cloth, and scooped her into his arms.
"There. Nice and clean." She waved her hand in the air for a moment before clutching onto his hair and deciding not to let go. "Ow! Hey, lemme go!" Gerard chuckled. He heard footsteps and spun around. His wife, Lindsey – or Lyn-Z, as she is known by fans of Mindless Self Indulgence – shuffled into the kitchen yawning.

"You're up early!" she mumbled, flicking the kettle on.

"This little one was crying at around five am. Teething again. Look at those 'ickle chompers!" He tickled Bandit's lips and she squealed with joy, revealing said "chompers". Lindsey smiled and kissed Gerard's cheek, and then Bandit's, before grabbing a mug and pouring herself a coffee. She peered at the glowing screen on the computer.

"Here. Give me Bandit. You've got fans to update," she winked, holding her hands out for her baby girl. His stomach churned thinking about the blog, but he handed her over, and thankfully she'd let go of his hair. His wife and child left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He span around and sat down. Right. This just had to be done. The album was due for release this May, and it was January. Fans were waiting. He shook himself.

"Gerard Way," he grumbled under his breath to himself, "pull yourself together and do it!" Taking a deep breath, he lowered his fingers to type. But just as his fingertips brushed the keys, the screen zapped off. He froze. Then frowned. Then hit the monitor. All the lights were still flashing – it was still on. He checked everything. He fiddled with wires. NOTHING fixed the screen. "What the fuck!" he snapped at the machine, hitting it again. He sat down and put his head in his hands. Maybe this update just wasn't meant to be. Suddenly, something beeped. He glanced up. The screen was still black. Sighing, he went to stand up, but something happened. Letters – white letters – began to slowly but surely type their way across the screen.

H.E.L.P.M.E.

"Wha-" he began, but it continued on a new line.

T.O.H.E.L.P.H.E.R.

Must have been some stupid pop-up. He pressed escape. Nothing happened.

H.E.L.P.M.E.

T.O.H.E.L.P.H.E.R.

'Help me to help her'? What the hell was this? A hacker? He angrily prodded the escape button again.
"This is way too fuckin' Matrix," he growled. He went to type back but it was as if the phantom typist had plucked the question from his mind and answered it.

I.A.M.M.I.S.S.I.L.E.K.I.D.