Bob twirled his drum sticks around his fingers, practice had been hard and he was sweating slightly but felt like he had done justice to the material. He scanned the room, Frank was caressing the neck of his guitar lovingly, making sure it was alright before he put it away. Frank loved that guitar more than he loved most people he even named ‘her’, Bob had to admit Pansy was a good name for a guitar. Ray was there too, sweaty fro hanging in his face, putting his guitar away a little less gently than Frank. Mikey and Gerard were hovering around the small coffee machine waiting for it to brew, they needed their coffee straight after practice, their ‘life blood’ Mikey had once called it, Bob had laughed.

Bob scratched the side of his head with the tip of his drum stick, he knew the others would head out soon to shower and relax. Bob briefly considered showering but decided against it, he’d only end up sweaty again later

“You coming Bob? I’ve got coffee and cookies, I’ll share with you if you want.” Mikey’s voice rang through the small practice room echoing off the surfaces and making him shift uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Um, no thanks Mikes I have stuff to take care of”

“But Bobby…” Gerard whined, “you need to come celebrate with us as we bask in our own awesomeness”

Gerard was very excited practice had gone well, after all the trauma of the last few months it was about time the band had some luck, that luck was given in the form of Bob, wonderful tech turned fantastic drummer. Bob unfortunately had other plans for that evening, he begged off the celebration promising to eat one of Mikey’s cookies before he left.

Bob lowered his head and pulled his hood up further, enough to cover at least some of his face; he walked purposefully through the streets of downtown Newark. These streets were dangerous and he knew it, most people wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk around alone this late at night but Bob wasn’t most people. He tried to hide it and mostly succeeded in his efforts, behind the timid tech and the camera shy drummer he concealed his most valuable secret. Bob was a ninja. He prowled the streets helping out those who needed it. Bob liked to think of himself as a ‘masked hero’, he never took credit for his good deeds and so went unrewarded.

Life for this little band from New Jersey continued, they practiced, played, toured and gained success. During this time Bob tried to stay true to his ninja ways. He had always known growing up that he was special, talented with his hands and built like a fighter. From the time he took up drumming he knew his hands were potential weapons; the speed of them as he played, the strength he gained through practice. Bob sought out a private trainer to teach him to harness the power of his hands, and thus Ninja Bob was born.

Bob trained with his mentor for many years as he grew up, knowing that one day he would be able to help people, to use his power for good.

Bob had been with My chemical Romance for a few years by the time they had gained world wide success; he loved his job, loved touring and loved the guys. Unfortunately his ninja duties had suffered with the growing success of his band. He sat on his bunk one night while on tour and thought about the promise he had made to his mentor

“You must look after those less fortunate than yourself Robert, you have a gift, and only you can use it; promise me you won‘t forget your purpose”.

He promised to be a protector and come hell or high water he was going to return to his duty.

As it turned out being an internationally famous drummer wasn’t the most inconspicuous job he could have asked for. Going for coffee was hard enough without people asking for pictures or autographs, how the hell was he supposed to be a ninja with everyone knowing his face? Bob devised a cunning plan. He fashioned himself a head band under the assumption that if Clark Kent could be disguised by removing his glasses, Bob could be disguised wearing a headband.

Late one night after a particularly hard show the band were relaxing on their tour bus; Bob and Ray were indulging in a little guitar hero, Bob was winning. Frank and Gerard were supposed to be watching the fierce guitar action but were instead playfully arguing which was the best ‘My Little Pony’. Mikey was ignoring all of his band mates and was sitting, legs tucked under himself on one of the small seats by the window, drinking his coffee as if he feared it would be his last.

Suddenly a scream pierced the air; everyone looked around, stunned by what they had heard. Frank was the fastest, he bolted off the bus band mates in tow to check out the noise. They could see in the park across from the venue a woman clearly being mugged by a large man. Frank stared at Gerard

“Someone should help her!” Clearly he wasn’t going to volunteer, he was tiny and would easily be killed by the large mugger. The band exchanged worried looks, each hoping the others would run to the poor woman’s aid. The four watched in awe as a hooded figure ran to the woman and pushed the mugger to the ground.

The mugger was quick, back on his feet purse still clutched in his hands. The hooded figure turned to face his opponent, sticks held at the ready. The ensuing fight was fast paced, all arms and legs; kicks and punches were exchanged the opponents parrying off blows, each fighting for dominance. The hooded figure quickly gained the advantage, being more skilled in combat he turned sharply and caught the mugger in the jaw with one of his sticks, the weapon shattered against the mans face; he was left unconscious.

The band rushed over to the scene, Gerard helping the woman to her feet, Frank grabbing her purse. The hooded figure tried to run but Ray was too quick, he held firm to the mans arm clearly wanting to thank him for his efforts. The hooded figure turned slowly, his hand reaching up to his hood to reveal his face, Bob smiled sheepishly at his band mates

“I’ve broken more drum sticks that way than I can count”

“Bob??” shrieked Frank “What the hell man? Where in the hell did those badass ninja moves come from?” Franks question was on everyone lips; they thought they knew Bob, yes he was quiet and kept to himself, but something as important as this… he would have told them, right?

“Uh… Sorry Frank, guys, I can’t really talk about it”.

Bob turned to leave, to head back to the bus, maybe to hide in his bunk until they all stopped looking at him like he had grown an extra head.

“No way Bryar, you don’t get out of it that easily”. Ray, usually always calm, actually sounded a little pissed. Bob winced, there was no getting out of this, all four of them had just seen him pull some serious Jackie Chan shit and they were waiting for an explanation.

“Fine, but not here”. He walked quickly back to the bus head spinning with the realization that any minute now he would be coming out of the ninja closet to his four best friends.

The band settled themselves in the small living room space on the bus, Gerard put on an emergency pot of coffee, both he and Frank lit up cigarettes. Bob considered lighting one himself but thought he might vomit if he put anything near his mouth.

Bob explained his past to his friends, his training, his self proclaimed mission to help the help-less. He had to give his friends credit, they took the news that Bob was a secret ninja fighting for good in their stride. There were a few “Ooo’s” and “Ahhh’s”, which mostly made Bob feel as if he were at a fireworks display, but all in all they didn’t seem as put out as he thought they would.

“So let me get this straight, you’re a ninja? And you’ve been this way since we met? Huh, and here I thought you were out getting laid a lot, clearly I was wrong”. Frank put an arm round his friend. Bob felt a rush of love for Frank that he hadn’t felt before; this tiny little man knew exactly how to make him feel better, to feel accepted.

“So ninja Bob this is why you order so many sticks? Man you need to change your weapon of choice; I know those things are cheap, but when you go breaking your custom made sticks your just wasting money.” Ray, having satisfied himself that he had handled this situation as best he could, reached around Bob to pick up his game controller; Bob might be able to kill him a fight but Ray was determined he was going to kick his ass at guitar hero.

Mikey suddenly sat up straight “Wait, Bob’s a ninja? I need more coffee man, this is some fucked up shit here”.

Gerard dealt with this new development the only way he knew how; he drew a caricature of Bob wearing his headband with the words ‘Ninja Bob’ written above the picture. He hung his art work on their tiny fridge and life went back to normal.

The band fell quickly back into the routine of touring, the only difference being that when Bob left to fight evil and bad guys he would inevitably be asked to pick up donuts on his way back to the bus. Life was good again. Bob felt a great sense of pride towards his best friends, they were so accepting and only made jokes when they knew he was too tired to fight back.

One night Bob was walking through some small city he couldn’t remember the name of, where we they again? Detroit? Indiana? He didn’t know. He rounded a corner into an alleyway and came face to face with the strangest sight he had ever seen. There in that darkened alley were two men, one slightly shabby looking, the other wearing a pink hoodie and the tightest jeans known to man. They were fighting, the skinny jean guy winning and pulling some pretty impressive moves in Bob’s opinion. Hearing Bob approach the two men broke their scuffle, the shabbier looking man took off running out of the alleyway leaving his young opponent to face Bob.

The young man turned, hip jutting out at an obscene angle, bitch face firmly in place.

“Smith? Is that you?” Bob remembers seeing pictures of Spencer Smith in a copy of a magazine Mikey had been reading, he had never properly met the man, but he was very recognizable. Bob took a minute to look Spencer over; he was wearing those incredibly tight jeans, what could only be described as a ten year old girls hoodie and had the most elaborate make up on Bob had seen in a long time.

“Nice make up by the way”

“Oh yeah, I let Ryan do it for me.. He tends to get carried away”. Spencer acknowledged the man in front of him, It wasn’t as if he didn’t know who Bob was; he felt awkward so he increased the intensity of his bitch face.

Bob wished he hadn’t put his head band on before he left the bus, his head was starting to itch and it gave him away more than Spencer’s crazy get-up.

“So, like are all drummer’s ninjas now? Did I somehow miss that memo?” Bob asked, very confused by the whole situation.

“Uh yeah, I think it’s a package deal actually, drumming skills clearly equal ninja skills after all. You’d have to ask Hurley though, he knows more about these things than I do”.

Bob thinks for a second about Andy Hurley. He’d gotten to know the other drummer during the warped tour in 2005; at the time he’d thought while watching Hurley play that the man would make a good ninja, apparently he’d been right.

“So isn’t it hard to fight in those pants? They’re really tight man”.

“Well, I don’t actually do a lot of fighting, why ruin a perfectly good out fit with another man’s blood when I can kill people with my brain?”

“Huh, awesome, that must be handy. I actually have to use my hands, apparently they’re my deadly weapons. What about Hurley? He got any special skills?”

“Other than his awesome vegan ninja self, no”

“Cool.”

“Yup”

“You know, in my opinion, drummers are highly under-rated. I mean honestly, here we are saving the world and the goddamn photographer’s can’t even get good shots of us at shows.”

“You’re right. Look, nice meeting you and all that but I really need to get back to my band; Jon tends to worry if I’m out to late”

“Yeah, say ‘hi’ to them for me.”

As Spencer leaves and Bob heads back to his bus he can’t help but think about how surreal his night has been. He decides not to tell his friends about all drummers possessing ninja skills, those kinds of secrets should be kept.. well secret. He feels a warmth in his stomach knowing that he’s not alone in his fight against evil. Other drummers are taking up their sticks in defense of the help-less. He’s proud to be a ninja drummer.

End.