#fabulouskilljoys

The sun had been beating down on the car all day, the engine running as hot as they could let it.

The siblings had taken their normal seats- driver and shotgun, Kobra nodding his head along to the music blasting full volume out the radio, the blood and life of the desert, as party sung along, moving with the beat. Ghoul had the window down, yelling the lyrics loud enough for the whole desert to hear, Jet bouncing their leg enough for it to be felt through the body of the car with the pulse beat.

These were the best days. The days where they ran errands for the doctor or just looked looked for something to do.

The day’s killjoys longed for.

They drove through the midday heat, much in the same fashion as before, when they noticed what was clearly a temporary concert stage being put up on the horizon. Exactly what they had been looking for.

Ghouls eyes lit up. He had been fidgeting more in the past hour, getting restless and singing louder than before. Kobra had been rubbing his knees more- being sandwiched up in the car made him start to ache after a while. Jet had been looking more anxious, looking behind them more, as if one long drive without a fight was too good to be true.

It was a silent agreement to stop, a glance at each other, followed by smiles and cheers all around.

Party did a wide skid, throwing up a cloud of dust, before stopping. The sun was bound to set soon, and the joys were starting to gather. Mad gear concerts always did that. Word spread quicker than wildfire.

The air was full of chatter and booze and laughter and cigarettes, thick with electric energy and anticipation. Kobra stretched the second he was free, fun ghoul bouncing as Jet quickly scanned the area before letting a large grin sweep over their face. Party let out a whoop as they grabbed their moonshine then a locked their treasured car.

“Party time!” They flashed a wide grin and cracked open a can, chuckling at their own half assed joke.

Kobra just Rolled his eyes and got two cans, passing one to Ghoul, who took it and took a large drink. Just as Jet took their own can, cheers waved over the crowd.

Remember when Polyvore was a thing and we could make up our Killjoy costumes?

I miss those days

Although I may do a bit of shopping one day and alter my design somewhat...

Jet- then known as slay- screamed the command to his battalion of dracs. There was a small camp on the dune they were fast approaching; a camp of killjoys. The enemy.

Within seconds the engines were roaring hungrily as they hurtled towards them, lasers turning the air thick with electricity from both sides. Jet shot two of them in the head with merciless precision. The dracs killed the other three with far less mercy. It took minutes- the fire they were huddled around for warmth under the stars undisturbed and still letting up whispers of smoke- like ghosts in snow.

They climbed out of the car, pulling 5 body bags out of the boot. They felt nothing as they stared at the corpses, putting them in the bag for later collection. Five corpses? Might be worth a hot chocolate when they got back.

The shuffle of dracs feet was the first indicator something was wrong. They finished zipping the bag before turning around, hand going to their sterile white gun. What they saw managed to ignite a shadow of emotion- fear they later learned to call it.

The killjoys outnumbered the dracs. The killjoys were already firing, Lessing their numbers, filling their lungs with static.

They ran ahed, barking the order to “KILL THEM ALL.” As drac after killjoy fell.

In the heat of the battle, body aching from the constant movement, it all went dark. No laser fire. No stars.

It had been 3? 4? Weeks (time was hard to track out here, with comfortingly odd sleeping patterns and no clocks or calendars.) They deserve to know you aren’t the runaway they thought you were, fresh from the city.

You’re an exterminator dressed in killjoy clothes and acting like a killjoy.

You wake up, in the hour before sunrise where it’s *not* blisteringly hot and closest to battery city climate. That windows been smashed for as long as you’ve been here though. You should at least leave them with that fixed? A little gesture before you go back. Stop acting and pretending.

You take a few moments to escape the nest of blankets and pillows you call your bed. Somehow it’s more comfy than home.

Grab your jacket, with the American flag and the bright patches that would land you in re-education.

Last week ghoul tried to make a ramp for a skateboard he’d found, leaving a few scraps of plywood. Good enough for fixing a window out here. This is just a thank you for not shooting you were you lay in the sand.

You grab the hammer and start working, the hammer crash filling the silent sands. You manage to not hit your fingers, quite a feat given how your hands have been. You could ask why Ghoul seems to have perfectly steady hands. Not your place. A stranger, the enemy.

The sunrise is beautiful. It always is so full of colour, everything out here is. This is probably the last one you’ll see. You know your on the wrong side of this war. BLI brings nothing good. You also won’t be any good staying here. They won’t want you when they know.

You pick up the hammer again and walk in, seeing a scene that would usually make you smile. Kobra is sat on one of the old booths, faded plastic peeling and paint chapped, eating his morning can of powerpup. Party is sat cross legged on the table, grinning as they eat.

“Dude! Did you finally fix that window? Pretty sure it’s been bust for years now”

Ghoul walked over and pressed a can of pup into your hands, with his usual grin.

You mumble something that barely qualifies as a response.

“C’mon Jet. Gotta get eat fast. Leaving in 10 to catch the races!” No wonder party seemed to be in such a good mood- usually it was Ghoul sat on tables.

You take a deep breath.

“Can.” Your voice catches, the way it’s only done when you’re afraid and since you got away from the city.”I haven’t been exactly truthful with you.”

They all look at you, surprised by the sudden serous tone.

“Well spill.” Kobras glare is the harshest, his voice with its usual warmth.

All their eyes are on you, expectingly.

“That day you found me. In the dust.” Zone language clung to you as much as the sand. “I had started that fight. Commanded those dracs.”

The air seems to freeze, blood gushing louder than ever before.

Party glares at you, eyes cold and more like a predator; the look he gave in that one clap you had fought with them. They look hurt too.

The door to the back rooms clatters shut behind them. Then Kobra, who’s face you couldn’t read under the sunglasses, though you have no doubt it was like his brothers. Then ghoul.

And your alone again. Like always. Tomorrow your going to wake up in a white room and only have half memories. That’s if they don’t throw you into the prisons. You can hear the low mumble of voices from behind the door.

You take in the battered diner you’ve called home, with the paint covering the walls of various ages and the sand and laughs and smiles.

You don’t know how long you’ve even been there when the door opens again, and the three of them fan out, the formation a little off without you there.

“You’re a killjoy. Right? Not a sellout.” Party talks, the words weighing down. You know your response is going to be the end of you.

You nod.

The girl found a deck of uno cards at Tommy’s. Of course the fabulous killjoys bought the brightly coloured cards.