"Danger Days" has some mighty influence on us, here's part one of mine.
People can be cruel when they try to get what they want…and even worse when that something is power to control all. I wasn’t even born when BLI came into power, or when the Killjoys came to be…trying to return our nation back to its former self—its BEAUTIFUL self. The only ones who know and remember that time are all part of my parents’ generation, and my parents are both on the young side, but all of them can’t be found. Fifteen years ago, when the Killjoys and BLI started their feud, a lot of the young people the BLI were focusing on gave in to the “Better Living” slogan, and became the snotty, rich, Battery City they are today. But some, like my parents and their friends, joined the newly formed rebel force: The Killjoys—to try and destroy what was made perfect, back into the beautiful world that once was. But all too soon, my dad made my mom leave when he found out she was pregnant with me.
So they left, and started new lives in Battery City’s suburbs, bringing me into a world that was in a dangerous war. I grew up watching it too, living on the edge of the suburbs, a hundred meters away, the fence separating our society from the desert beyond, where the Killjoys hid and where the BLI kept their Killjoy “rehabilitation facilities”. Killjoy rebels bunked down with us, hiding from the madmen goons that hunted them down for the BLI, more than once our house was visited by the more sane goons that questioned suspicious homes and searched through everything, taking all they thought would influence us to join the Killjoys…and when I was four, Jennet came. She was a beautiful little sister, one I loved just as much as I loved my parents, and I would do everything to keep those stupid BLI criminals from hurting her. That came sooner than I thought.
Jennet was one, just learning to walk, when they came to us. We were playing inside with what we found, since the BLI banned most of the fun toys the kids from the past used to have, so that meant a kickball and a couple dead batteries I liked to use as building blocks. I would set up the batteries and let little Jen knock them down with the ball, and I felt so warmed by her squeals of laughter…then the door was bashed down. All those weird goons that always wore these creepy masks, suddenly swarmed our house; I didn’t have a clue what was going on, but some instinct told me to grab Jen and run to find my parents. With Jen crying with fright I ran into the kitchen where my parents were making lunch.
“Mommy! Daddy!”
“What is it sweetie?” my dad said looking worried.
“Bad people!” was all I could say, and my dad just looked at my mom with so much fear. Then those masked gunmen charged in, demanding we hand my father over.
“Daniel Moore, you are wanted for questioning on information of the rebel forces. It is understood that you were once under their influence and returned back to the Better Living Industries society five years ago.” I don’t even know what that all means, but they all of a sudden try reaching for dad and Jen.
“Don’t touch ‘em you meanie!” I shout as I turn to block Jen from the hands trying to grab her.
“We need something to…encourage, your father to speak to us little miss,” says the one who seems to be in charge of the group, and he actually smiles at me. It’s just so lacking of warmth and so cruel looking, I can’t stand it and run into my mom’s arms with Jen still held firmly in my own. The man looks disappointedly at me, and turns to the men holding my dad, “The family obviously doesn’t understand that we need your help Daniel.”
My dad just pleadingly at the man and says, “Please, just leave them be, I’ll tell you what you want to know. Just leave my family out of this.”
“I’m afraid you are of more danger to Better Living Industries than previously believed,” the man says with that cruel smile of his. He pulls something from inside his coat, and extends it towards dad, and still smiling, the man sends a flash of light shooting across and hits dad. Where the light hit, there’s a burn mark on his shirt, and he falls limb in the grip of the men…and know what the thing is. A raygun, the weapon of choice for most Killjoys, but theirs are all usually brightly colored…this one was white as death and had the BLI stamp:
(BLI logo here)
“No! Daddy!” I was screaming bloody murder, and I would have run to my dad’s dead body too…if mom hadn’t held me back.
“No, sweetie, be quiet now,” mom says holding back not only me with Jen still in my grasp, but also sad tears of my dad’s murder, and also with the forever anger towards the BLI.
“Yes, child, listen to all your elders,” says the murderer, and as he reaches to try and pat me on the head—I tilt my head back and bite. I hold down ‘il a taste the funny metal taste that can only be blood…he pulls away his hand yelping as my teeth tear skin. He gives me a disgusted look as he holds his bleeding hand, and slaps me so hard, it’s all my small frame could do not fall and squash Jen. “Mrs. Moore,” he says, holding back the desire to slap me again. “It looks as though your daughter is in desperate need of permanent reformatory.”
“What? But she’s just a kid, she doesn’t know—” mom says taking a hold of me.
“…Any better? Yes I’m afraid she doesn’t, and to be displaying such violent and juvenile behavior at such a tender age, it is only necessary that we stop it now before it gets out of hand,” he continues with the cold smile growing on his face.
“Please, I’ll start up behavior development, she doesn’t need this,” mom’s giving it all she can, but it won’t work.
“Mrs. Moore, if we do not start now with a firm hand, then the child will turn into one of Killjoy hooligans that threaten our perfect society. Now you wouldn’t want that now would we?” Mom just looks up at him, staring him down as if he were death itself—which I’m sure he was. She nods, though not happy to. “Very well, she will be enrolled into Better Living Industries Reformatory 16 when her education process is to begin next semester. She will come out of it as one of the finest students you’ve ever seen…she may even earn a degree to work in the industries,” he finishes. He turns and nods to the men still holding dad’—body. Someone comes forward with what looks like a bag big enough to—no. No, it’s a bag to carry dad out without the neighbors freaking out. They stuff him in it, and walk out with no other words to us—to be honest, I don’t think I could have taken any more news. But even though my life shattered, and the permanent reformatory was supposedly going to help me rebuild myself into this perfect BLI civilian, it didn’t work out like that. They wanted to stomp out all creative and bright feelings I had, to prevent me from “falling prey to the Killjoys”…but it was too late. I knew what I was going to be thanks to them, they took my father from me, and they were now going to pay. Five years old, and the same beautiful rage that sparked the eyes of every Killjoy, was now what fueled me to never be what these stupid BLI maniacs wanted me to be.
Contructive and helpful feedback is welcome.
Part 2: http://www.mychemicalromance.com/blog/zone-specter/you-asked-it-folks
