TRANSMISSION 5
(POV: The Kobra Kid)
“Hey, cheer up! This is a good thing; if the bad guys are pissed at you, you must be doing something right!”
I could still see Fun Ghoul’s grin as he tried to make me feel good about having my face on a wanted poster. That was something I missed; the way Fun was always smiling. I always thought he’d end up with a nice girl, ya know? He had one of those smiles….
When we got back from riding Route Guano and giving the Draculoids a good bit of hell, it was almost nightfall. The desert was at its best at this time. The sun cast weak orange light across the quiet, desolate expanse of land while the craggy Californian hills cast shadows on the sand. This was the calm interval between the daytime when Dracs patrolled the Zones and the nighttime when Syphons and coyotes came out of their holes looking for blood. With the excuse of being tired and needing some sleep, I’d gone up to the roof of the Die-ner to clear my head. I sat with my back against the “i” in the word “die”…
“If the bad guys are pissed at you, you must be doing something right!” I replayed the memory again… Me and Jet still had wanted posters out to get us, with “prison break” added to our list of offenses to Better Living Industries. The Zones were no longer permeated by the images of Party Poison and Fun Ghoul with exes drawn over their faces and a black bar reading “EXTERMINATE” covering their eyes. Their wanted posters had all but disappeared, and the ones that remained were dirty and faded by the desert sun.
The way the loss of my friends was chasing me made me feel pretty damn useless. None of the Dracs we’d dusted out on Route Guano that day had fallen to my ray gun. I wasn’t positive I’d even hit one… I was bringing everyone down, too, making it harder for them to be their carefree Killjoy selves. Show Pony’s pirouette-to-regular-step-forward ratio was leaning dangerously in favor of regular steps, Grace bit her tongue whenever she happily reminisced about Party and Fun, and Jet Star was wasting all his energy trying to make me feel better. I was like a black hole, hopelessly draining everyone around me. I felt so fucking selfish, so worthless.
Rattling around in my head were the lyrics to “Cancer” by The Black Parade… it had come on the radio on the way home that day, which was kind of rough. The worst part wasn’t hearing the song, though, it was seeing everybody freak out when they thought something would make me upset. I was trying so hard to hold it together, hold it in, but with how sensitive everyone was to the way I might be feeling was proof that I was doing a horrible job of it. I didn’t want their pity or their attention.
“Know that I will never marry……” Party and Fun were never going to get married. They were never going to have kids (Party had always insisted that someday he would have a baby of his own and name it Bandit regardless of its gender.) “And if you say… goodbye today…. I’d ask you to be true….. ‘cause the hardest part of this is leaving you….”
I needed to move on. My brother was gone. My friend was gone. There was no use in hoping they’d walk in the door every time one of the new kids dropped by for some supplies. There was no point letting my heart sink every time it wasn’t them. I just couldn’t help it…
The desert got dark, the air gradually colder. You could see the stars out here; they weren’t completely obscured by pollution and city lights. Deadly but beautiful was a good description of the Zones. Some people don’t see the beautiful part; they don’t appreciate the charm of desolation and blight. I do, though. In the quiet night air, I suddenly remembered what this place meant to me.
Maybe that was the answer; finding the things that still meant something to me and hanging on to them for dear life. It sounded right, but it also sounded like accepting what happened that night in Battery City. Wasn’t that what I wanted? To overcome this? Bury the demons chasing me around? I still blamed myself for what happened to Party… but he would want me to keep running… Maybe I could put everything behind me. If not for my sake, maybe for everyone else’s? Still… easier said than done.
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TRANSMISSION 6
(POV: Fun Ghoul)
Needless to say, there wasn’t a hell of a lot to do in that tiny little room. You could chose between pacing, staring hopelessly into space, and anything else that required only four padded white walls and an idle brain. I could imagine that in the same situation, Party would be singing Mad Gear and Missile Kid pointedly at the security cameras, the rotten little bastard. Kobra would kick the wall for mouthing off to him (Inside joke. You had to have been there.) As for Jet Star… he was the mystery child. True story. No telling how Jet would keep occupied if stuck in a jail cell. Braid his fluffy hair, maybe…
Me, I just talked to myself. Chattered like a fikin’ psycho. It got random. A while ago (probably fifty-something hours ago, who knew up in a joint like this…) this Drac came in with my slop and I started telling him about how rhinoceroses’ shit comes out like a freaking hose. No idea where it came from or why I said it, it just sorta came out. The Drac was probably looking at me like I was pretty damn crazy behind that rubber mask of his.
What was worse was how I got to arguing with myself back and forth. It was entertaining, but I got a little concerned for my own stability. Me myself and I would argue about anything and everything, but it kept the room from being silent. And if the Dracs didn’t like it (I was pretty sure they heard everything I said), fuck them they shouldn’t be holding me prisoner.
Obviously, I shouldn’t have been surprised when it came up in an adjustment session…
“Frank, I think you need to tell me about your habits. I’ve noticed how you pass the time between our visits.” Her cold voice began its assault on my brain’s defenses once more. I didn’t like to respond to her, it didn’t feel right. I knew how she would use anything I gave her: as ammo. That bitch… Who exactly was she? “Frank? Are you listening? It’s important that you open up. You won’t get better unless you—“
“Still wasting breath on your ‘humane’ solutions, darling?” Another voice came through the… wherever those stupid voices were coming from. It was male, sort of nasty and generic. The woman sighed, coming within inches of emotion. It was crazy how easily you could asses their relationship just by listening to them. MAYBE THEY’D KILL EACH OTHER!! I grinned to myself…
A clumsy scraping noise came over the receiver.
“Wouldn’t want our little friend listening in, now, would we?” The woman’s voice. What could she possibly mean? “Now, what were you saying? Something about my transitional methods and how they’re far superior to your own?”
The man didn’t like her arrogance. “Right, right, because this that you’re doing here has been so effective. How long did you spend, pray tell, trying to convince your ‘little friend’ to say his name? Three, four hours?”
“As if your subject is so much more compliant?” There was another subject? Meaning another Killjoy locked up here?
“I’ve broken ground with young Gerard, which you’d know if you weren’t so busy braiding this one’s hair!” The man snapped. Suddenly, my heart stopped in my chest. Because I recognized the name. Party Poison’s civilian name, his childhood name. Party Poison… my best friend. They told me he was dead. The woman must’ve accidentally left the transmitter on, the scraping noise I heard was her turning it off only really she hadn’t. And now I knew the truth. Party was alive somewhere in this hell!
“Mmm, right. I’ll bet you’ve reduced his open insults to every fourth word out of his mouth. You should be proud, Doctor Whitley. Between hiding behind an Exterminator and opening a whole new medical tab for cleanup after all the beatings, I’d say you’re off to an impressive start with your subject.”
The woman remained without heat as she mocked the other doctor (I guess they were doctors?), not that I really cared. My mind was racing. First off, I now knew Party Poison was alive. How long he’d be that way I wasn’t sure, especially considering the “treatment” they hinted at. Beatings? My stomach twisted. We all knew that behind the static, smiley façade, the folks at Better Living Industries were capable of soulless brutality. And they didn’t fight fair. The way they made Party sound, his usual sassy self apparently, it suddenly dawned on me that I should be giving my captors absolute hell. So what if I lacked Party Poison’s confidence? I could fake it, imagining the others by my side and making me strong.
I didn’t like the way the woman sounded, like she’d broken me. I thought quickly but acted much, much faster. Before the stupid confidence fled once more.
I don’t want to go into too much detail (sorry, I’m embarrassed), but I sort of revived my old Drac hunting tradition… and I aimed right at the security camera. I must say the whole thing was orchestrated perfectly for those of us who are shy about, um… stuff… ‘cause the camera lens got blurred by my perfect aim.
“Hey, heads up, that docile puppy of yours just—“
“Shut UP, Whitley. Get… ugh, get out of my office. And YOU, get that cleaned up immediately.”
I collapsed on the floor, laughing at them defiantly. No way was I going down easy.
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TRANSMISSION 7
(POV: The Kobra Kid)
I woke up to distant noises. Jolting from wherever I’d been before I was awake, I realized I was on the roof. I’d fallen asleep there the night before. My muscles were a bit stiff, and one of my joints made a cracking sound as I got up quickly. I went straight for the edge of the roof so I could see what was going on.
A VMW Thing was driving down the open road in the Die-ner’s direction, going really fast. A trail of dust stoked up by its speeding rubber tires clouded behind it. It was bright yellow, I think, underneath layers of art. It was obviously one of ours, but I didn’t recognize it. I suppose no one did, because figures were rushing out to meet the vehicle down below. I wasn’t too high up, so I could guess who was who by the tops of their heads. Cosmic’s pilot helmet glinted in the early morning light, and I could imagine the clown sticker on the back grinning at me. She was accompanied by Doctor Death Defying, Grace, Jet Star, and Show Pony, the only Killjoys other than me who’d spent nights at the Die-ner and, subsequently, the only others here so early. Oh, there was Gas Man too, the usually silent guy in a neon green skull mask and a blue jumpsuit sporting the Dead Pegasus Gas logo. Doctor D waved to the approaching vehicle.
The scene unfolded quickly beneath me. The jeep-like vehicle skidded to an untidy halt, and two ragged figures emerged from it. One supported the other. I heard a breathless female voice, loud and urgent.
“They’re advancing!”
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END PART 3
Hang on, let me breathe a sigh of relief. Ahhh… I’m done! Part three is now behind me. I’m making some progress now! I was planning on slowly building up to things, but I’m worried I’ll get lost in pointless babble if I don’t just get to the point with this story. What do I mean? You’ll seeeeeeee. Anyway, this is actually turning out okay so far.
By the way, I would probably explode with happiness if I got a comment. Just saying. OH, OH, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you Killjoys. I’m having trouble coming up with supporting cast members, and I was wondering if any of you would like to comment or message me the information about your Danger Days persona (name, age, appearance, backstory, personality, any special skills or whatever) and let me use it in the story. I’d be so grateful. And I’m SURE you’d love to be in someone’s fanfic, right? Come on, you know it would be awesome. Please? Pretty please? You could give me as much and as detailed info as you want (Just about your Killjoy), and I’d do my best to write you well…. I’d eat up anything you’d be willing to give me to work with.
OVER AND OUT
