Make Some Noise
Young And Restless
We’re back in Lithium’s office. Me, Party Poison, the rest of the Fabulous Killjoys. Fun Ghoul looks like he’s just woken up, yawning. Electric Flux hovers, agitated and looking unsure whether he’s being included or not.
“Stop fidgeting,” I hiss at him under my breath and he finally sits still. The radio is on, sitting on Lithium’s desk. It’s funny how it doesn’t look any different, but my view of it has changed completely. A radio like this that picks up coded signals is extremely rare. The woman’s tinny robotic voice plays from the speakers. Occasionally she switches languages, to something Party Poison identifies for us as Japanese.
As far as we can tell, it’s a single transmission, playing over and over again, from BLi headquarters to units of Draculoids. And they’re planning an attack. A retaliation attack, actually. We’re all sitting in some sort of shocked silence. Jet Star breaks it. “It’s Storm,” he says. Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, and Kobra Kid nod in agreement. “He leads a gang of Killjoys in the Zone 6 South West area,” Jet Star continues. “It’s their territory; they call it the Wild West.” He shakes his head a bit as he says it.
“And this gang managed to take down a Scarecrow unit?” Lithium asks.
“It was probably only one Scarecrow, alone, just passing through on a routine check,” Fun Ghoul says. Lithium looks thoughtful, frowning.
Party Poison sits up like something’s been decided. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he says. “If it’s alright, we need to send out a few transmissions before we go.” Lithium nods.
“Wait, you–you’re going?” I say. It feels so sudden. They’re leaving already?
Party Poison looks at me. “This attack is happening in three weeks. We need to leave now to get there in time and organize a proper defence,” he says, sounding troubled.
“Oh,” I say, unsure why I was so caught off guard. “Of course.” They’re the Fabulous Killjoys, the generals in this war. They’re needed on the front lines.
A minute later I show them to Radio Room 3 and back out to door to let them make their transmissions privately. I need a moment to myself to think and I take it as I go to the weapons room to get their charged laserguns, checking each one over before putting them in their holsters.
Flux was sent to go get Girl; as I wait outside the door I see Ghost coming down the hall with Girl trailing behind her and Flux bringing up the rear. The difference between Ghost’s bright-eyed excited expression and Flux’s anxious face is almost comical. I focus on Girl. She looks solemn, staring back at me like she can read my mind before I’ve even made it up. I do my best to smile at her.
The door opens and Fun ghoul steps out. “Hey Girl,” he says with a big smile, holding a hand out to her. She takes it and he meets my gaze over her head, nodding for me to follow. I set my shoulders and force myself not to glance at Ghost and Flux, feeling self-conscious.
Inside Radio Room 3, Jet Star is leaning against the broadcasting unit and Party Poison is sitting in front of it. Kobra Kid stands at the back with his arms crossed. Party Poison pushes the microphone aside and slides off a pair of headphones when we step in. Girl immediately lets go of Fun Ghoul’s hand and walks over to stand in front of him, and he takes both her hands in his. The air in here is tense. The only one with any semblance of relaxation is Fun Ghoul.
“So when are we gonna get moving?” he asks from where he’s kicking back on the old couch me and Flux dragged in here a month ago. The room is quiet, and I try not to stare at Party Poison and Girl. They’re looking into each other’s eyes and neither is saying a word, but I get the distinct feeling they’re communicating somehow.
“Soon,” Jet Star finally replies, pushing off the broadcasting unit. I see his eyes go to Party Poison and Girl for a split second before rising to me. “Are those fully charged?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, sliding the holsters off my shoulder and handing them each their guns. I end up standing there uncomfortably holding Party Poison’s gun. He looks up before it gets too awkward.
“Thank you,” he says, standing and taking it from me. I nod, keeping my face impassive as my thoughts whirl. “Girl will be staying here. I already spoke to Lithium about it. She’s keeping her radio and I was wondering if you could hook it up with a pair of headphones and a mike so she can use it to stay in touch with us.”
“She’s keeping it?” I ask, surprised. “But it’s–she’s–”
“She’ll let us know if there are any changes to the transmission,” Party Poison says, and I wonder if he’s putting too much responsibility on her. She’s just a kid. Earlier today she told me she was ten years old. She’s small for her age. I look at her serious face. I was only two years older when I lost both my parents and my first home in the fires of 2012. After that I lived on the streets for two years. I don’t know her past, but I do know kids are exceptionally resilient. And we grow up fast when we have to.
“I’ll talk to Flux about it,” I say. “Consider it done.”
“Thank you,” he says again before turning to the other three. “Alright, let’s grab our stuff. We head out first thing in the morning.” They all move, and I realize with a burst of panic that my chance is slipping away. Fuck it, I decide. I’m going for it.
“Wait!” I say, a little too loud. Calm down. Take a breath. Steadily say, “I’m coming with you.”
I’m not sure what reaction I was hoping for, but they all sort of stop and look at me. Silent. This thought has been in my head since Party Poison announced they were leaving. I stand straighter, filling with conviction. “Static is an amazing place, but I want to do more. I need to do more. Let me help. I know I can.” They glance at each other.
“Death Angel,” Party Poison says gently. “The work you do here already helps more than you know. And what we do is extremely dangerous.” He’s trying to let me down easy, but all I feel is patronized. He probably thinks I have no idea what I’m talking about.
“Well, I’ll see you there, then,” I say, my chin coming up a fraction. I’m gonna be at that fight whether you like it or not. This is my chance to avenge Dr. D. I don’t waver for a second.
Fun Ghoul chuckles. “You gotta admit, she’s got balls,” he says, grinning. “Let’s see you shoot a lasergun,” he says to me. “Then we’ll decide.” Jet Star shoots him a look and Kobra Kid just looks bored. I ignore them and train my eyes on Party Poison’s unreadable face.
He nods.
Hesitation is non-existent. If this is what it takes to prove myself, I’ll do it. “Let me get my gun.”
***
The sun is setting in earnest now, casting long shadows across the weedy lot behind the Static motel. The heat of the day is waning. Fun Ghoul actually seems excited, shaking a can of blood-red spraypaint. He draws targets on the already graffiti-covered wall and then pulls me over, making me stand against the rough brick with my arms apart and tracing my outline. My arms and legs end up dusted in red. He adds a crude Draculoid mask on the head. I laugh and he grins at his handiwork.
I am about to blow their minds.
Maybe I’m being cocky, but it’s really all about the attitude. And attitude is exactly what I need to give me an extra push of confidence to back up the skill that I know I have. I used to practice shooting almost every day and since I’ve been at Static I’ve made an effort to practice at least twice a week. It feels good to have Pink Lightning in my hands again.
Their car is parked back here, half in shadow. It’s a Trans-Am that used to be completely white; now everyone knows it by the bolts of colour, the American flag on the side, and the big black Killjoy spider spread across the hood. It looks like it’s been on the receiving end of more than a few laser blasts and has eaten up miles of desert-dust road. My goal is to be in that car when it drives away tomorrow morning.
“Alright,” Fun Ghoul says when he’s done decorating and we’re standing fifty feet away, near the car, on the other side of the lot. “Go for it.”
My heart is pounding and I can feel their eyes on me. Breathe, I remind myself as I lift Pink Lightning and warm up on the biggest target. All shots land within the inside circle, and I move on when I’ve hit a bulls-eye three times in a row. Next I go for the smaller targets, settling into a rhythm, thrumming with energy and focus. Inhale-point, exhale-shoot. I aim at my silhouette–twice in the head, three times in the chest, both legs. YES.
I hear Fun Ghoul’s whistle as I lower my gun. “Nice!” he exclaims, and I peel my fingers off the gun to slap the hand he holds out to me, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Good job,” Jet Star adds, looking mildly impressed. Kobra Kid is silent, giving me a nod. Party Poison doesn’t say anything either, but his lips pull up in a smile and I know I’ve passed the test. I can’t control my own smile, riding the high of adrenaline and accomplishment.
Fun Ghoul reaches for his own gun. “Well, we gotta practice now too, don’t we? Can’t be upstaged by a girl,” he says, grinning.
I look at him and raise a single eyebrow. “This girl could kick your ass any day of the week.”
I listen to their laughter and get the surreal feeling that I’ve stepped into a circle of something special.
***
“Have you talked to Lithium about it yet?” Sweet Sarcasm asks. She and Ghost Candy sit on their beds, watching me pack. Ghost is keeping up an excited running commentary that puts my own enthusiasm to shame. Sweet Sarcasm is remarkably more sweet than sarcastic today.
“Yeah,” I reply. “He said he couldn’t stop me, that it’s my decision. I think he understood, you know?” Sweet Sarcasm nods, hugging her battered acoustic guitar. She told me once it’s the last thing she has of her life before Static took her in. She’s slightly older than me, twenty-one, and has been here a lot longer than I have. I look at my helmet, suddenly feeling bad that I never shared anything like that back with her. Even now, I just pulled my stuff out from under my bed without any explanation.
I fit everything in a single backpack, tucking Pink Lightning in a side pocket, smiling faintly. Target practice with the Four lasted until the sun went down and the crappy streetlights came on. I get a little giddy as I tell them about it.
“So I guess it was sort of like an initiation–” I’m interrupted by a knock on the door. It’s late, almost one in the morning; the three of us look up in surprise. “Come in,” I call. The door opens and Party Poison stands on the other side.
“Hey,” he says. “Can I talk to Death Angel for a minute?”
Ghost’s eyes are big as saucers as she squeaks, “Of course!” and then doesn’t move from her spot, staring. Sweet Sarcasm is quietly more composed, taking Ghost’s arm. Party Poison steps aside and they shuffle out of the room together. The door shuts behind them with a click.
“Packing?” he asks, walking forward. “Yeah,” I reply as he touches my helmet. Does he remember it? For a moment he seems lost in thought. It’s making me nervous. “Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Look,” he says, looking up at me suddenly. “I don’t know how much experience you have. I don’t know what happened in Zone 2. But what we do isn’t heroic or glamorous. It’s difficult and dangerous and nothing like shooting at a wall.”
“I know,” I say lowly, through gritted teeth.
“I’m not trying to–” He stops and sighs, looking away from me and dragging a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to make sure you know what you’re getting into, coming with us. I’ve seen too many kids jump into it and get hurt.” I realize he looks tired. Weighed down.
“I’m not a kid,” I say, and I can tell by his face that he thinks I’ve missed the point. “I get it,” I continue quietly. “You think I don’t see those same kids walking in here? Or that one day one of them won’t walk in and someone will be missing a brother, a sister, a best friend?” He meets my gaze. His eyes are clear hazel-green. “I get it,” I tell him.
“Good,” he says finally. “See you tomorrow morning then.”
I nod. “Goodnight,” I say.
The corner of his mouth pulls up as he opens the door again. “Goodnight.”
“Stop fidgeting,” I hiss at him under my breath and he finally sits still. The radio is on, sitting on Lithium’s desk. It’s funny how it doesn’t look any different, but my view of it has changed completely. A radio like this that picks up coded signals is extremely rare. The woman’s tinny robotic voice plays from the speakers. Occasionally she switches languages, to something Party Poison identifies for us as Japanese.
As far as we can tell, it’s a single transmission, playing over and over again, from BLi headquarters to units of Draculoids. And they’re planning an attack. A retaliation attack, actually. We’re all sitting in some sort of shocked silence. Jet Star breaks it. “It’s Storm,” he says. Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, and Kobra Kid nod in agreement. “He leads a gang of Killjoys in the Zone 6 South West area,” Jet Star continues. “It’s their territory; they call it the Wild West.” He shakes his head a bit as he says it.
“And this gang managed to take down a Scarecrow unit?” Lithium asks.
“It was probably only one Scarecrow, alone, just passing through on a routine check,” Fun Ghoul says. Lithium looks thoughtful, frowning.
Party Poison sits up like something’s been decided. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he says. “If it’s alright, we need to send out a few transmissions before we go.” Lithium nods.
“Wait, you–you’re going?” I say. It feels so sudden. They’re leaving already?
Party Poison looks at me. “This attack is happening in three weeks. We need to leave now to get there in time and organize a proper defence,” he says, sounding troubled.
“Oh,” I say, unsure why I was so caught off guard. “Of course.” They’re the Fabulous Killjoys, the generals in this war. They’re needed on the front lines.
A minute later I show them to Radio Room 3 and back out to door to let them make their transmissions privately. I need a moment to myself to think and I take it as I go to the weapons room to get their charged laserguns, checking each one over before putting them in their holsters.
Flux was sent to go get Girl; as I wait outside the door I see Ghost coming down the hall with Girl trailing behind her and Flux bringing up the rear. The difference between Ghost’s bright-eyed excited expression and Flux’s anxious face is almost comical. I focus on Girl. She looks solemn, staring back at me like she can read my mind before I’ve even made it up. I do my best to smile at her.
The door opens and Fun ghoul steps out. “Hey Girl,” he says with a big smile, holding a hand out to her. She takes it and he meets my gaze over her head, nodding for me to follow. I set my shoulders and force myself not to glance at Ghost and Flux, feeling self-conscious.
Inside Radio Room 3, Jet Star is leaning against the broadcasting unit and Party Poison is sitting in front of it. Kobra Kid stands at the back with his arms crossed. Party Poison pushes the microphone aside and slides off a pair of headphones when we step in. Girl immediately lets go of Fun Ghoul’s hand and walks over to stand in front of him, and he takes both her hands in his. The air in here is tense. The only one with any semblance of relaxation is Fun Ghoul.
“So when are we gonna get moving?” he asks from where he’s kicking back on the old couch me and Flux dragged in here a month ago. The room is quiet, and I try not to stare at Party Poison and Girl. They’re looking into each other’s eyes and neither is saying a word, but I get the distinct feeling they’re communicating somehow.
“Soon,” Jet Star finally replies, pushing off the broadcasting unit. I see his eyes go to Party Poison and Girl for a split second before rising to me. “Are those fully charged?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, sliding the holsters off my shoulder and handing them each their guns. I end up standing there uncomfortably holding Party Poison’s gun. He looks up before it gets too awkward.
“Thank you,” he says, standing and taking it from me. I nod, keeping my face impassive as my thoughts whirl. “Girl will be staying here. I already spoke to Lithium about it. She’s keeping her radio and I was wondering if you could hook it up with a pair of headphones and a mike so she can use it to stay in touch with us.”
“She’s keeping it?” I ask, surprised. “But it’s–she’s–”
“She’ll let us know if there are any changes to the transmission,” Party Poison says, and I wonder if he’s putting too much responsibility on her. She’s just a kid. Earlier today she told me she was ten years old. She’s small for her age. I look at her serious face. I was only two years older when I lost both my parents and my first home in the fires of 2012. After that I lived on the streets for two years. I don’t know her past, but I do know kids are exceptionally resilient. And we grow up fast when we have to.
“I’ll talk to Flux about it,” I say. “Consider it done.”
“Thank you,” he says again before turning to the other three. “Alright, let’s grab our stuff. We head out first thing in the morning.” They all move, and I realize with a burst of panic that my chance is slipping away. Fuck it, I decide. I’m going for it.
“Wait!” I say, a little too loud. Calm down. Take a breath. Steadily say, “I’m coming with you.”
I’m not sure what reaction I was hoping for, but they all sort of stop and look at me. Silent. This thought has been in my head since Party Poison announced they were leaving. I stand straighter, filling with conviction. “Static is an amazing place, but I want to do more. I need to do more. Let me help. I know I can.” They glance at each other.
“Death Angel,” Party Poison says gently. “The work you do here already helps more than you know. And what we do is extremely dangerous.” He’s trying to let me down easy, but all I feel is patronized. He probably thinks I have no idea what I’m talking about.
“Well, I’ll see you there, then,” I say, my chin coming up a fraction. I’m gonna be at that fight whether you like it or not. This is my chance to avenge Dr. D. I don’t waver for a second.
Fun Ghoul chuckles. “You gotta admit, she’s got balls,” he says, grinning. “Let’s see you shoot a lasergun,” he says to me. “Then we’ll decide.” Jet Star shoots him a look and Kobra Kid just looks bored. I ignore them and train my eyes on Party Poison’s unreadable face.
He nods.
Hesitation is non-existent. If this is what it takes to prove myself, I’ll do it. “Let me get my gun.”
***
The sun is setting in earnest now, casting long shadows across the weedy lot behind the Static motel. The heat of the day is waning. Fun Ghoul actually seems excited, shaking a can of blood-red spraypaint. He draws targets on the already graffiti-covered wall and then pulls me over, making me stand against the rough brick with my arms apart and tracing my outline. My arms and legs end up dusted in red. He adds a crude Draculoid mask on the head. I laugh and he grins at his handiwork.
I am about to blow their minds.
Maybe I’m being cocky, but it’s really all about the attitude. And attitude is exactly what I need to give me an extra push of confidence to back up the skill that I know I have. I used to practice shooting almost every day and since I’ve been at Static I’ve made an effort to practice at least twice a week. It feels good to have Pink Lightning in my hands again.
Their car is parked back here, half in shadow. It’s a Trans-Am that used to be completely white; now everyone knows it by the bolts of colour, the American flag on the side, and the big black Killjoy spider spread across the hood. It looks like it’s been on the receiving end of more than a few laser blasts and has eaten up miles of desert-dust road. My goal is to be in that car when it drives away tomorrow morning.
“Alright,” Fun Ghoul says when he’s done decorating and we’re standing fifty feet away, near the car, on the other side of the lot. “Go for it.”
My heart is pounding and I can feel their eyes on me. Breathe, I remind myself as I lift Pink Lightning and warm up on the biggest target. All shots land within the inside circle, and I move on when I’ve hit a bulls-eye three times in a row. Next I go for the smaller targets, settling into a rhythm, thrumming with energy and focus. Inhale-point, exhale-shoot. I aim at my silhouette–twice in the head, three times in the chest, both legs. YES.
I hear Fun Ghoul’s whistle as I lower my gun. “Nice!” he exclaims, and I peel my fingers off the gun to slap the hand he holds out to me, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Good job,” Jet Star adds, looking mildly impressed. Kobra Kid is silent, giving me a nod. Party Poison doesn’t say anything either, but his lips pull up in a smile and I know I’ve passed the test. I can’t control my own smile, riding the high of adrenaline and accomplishment.
Fun Ghoul reaches for his own gun. “Well, we gotta practice now too, don’t we? Can’t be upstaged by a girl,” he says, grinning.
I look at him and raise a single eyebrow. “This girl could kick your ass any day of the week.”
I listen to their laughter and get the surreal feeling that I’ve stepped into a circle of something special.
***
“Have you talked to Lithium about it yet?” Sweet Sarcasm asks. She and Ghost Candy sit on their beds, watching me pack. Ghost is keeping up an excited running commentary that puts my own enthusiasm to shame. Sweet Sarcasm is remarkably more sweet than sarcastic today.
“Yeah,” I reply. “He said he couldn’t stop me, that it’s my decision. I think he understood, you know?” Sweet Sarcasm nods, hugging her battered acoustic guitar. She told me once it’s the last thing she has of her life before Static took her in. She’s slightly older than me, twenty-one, and has been here a lot longer than I have. I look at my helmet, suddenly feeling bad that I never shared anything like that back with her. Even now, I just pulled my stuff out from under my bed without any explanation.
I fit everything in a single backpack, tucking Pink Lightning in a side pocket, smiling faintly. Target practice with the Four lasted until the sun went down and the crappy streetlights came on. I get a little giddy as I tell them about it.
“So I guess it was sort of like an initiation–” I’m interrupted by a knock on the door. It’s late, almost one in the morning; the three of us look up in surprise. “Come in,” I call. The door opens and Party Poison stands on the other side.
“Hey,” he says. “Can I talk to Death Angel for a minute?”
Ghost’s eyes are big as saucers as she squeaks, “Of course!” and then doesn’t move from her spot, staring. Sweet Sarcasm is quietly more composed, taking Ghost’s arm. Party Poison steps aside and they shuffle out of the room together. The door shuts behind them with a click.
“Packing?” he asks, walking forward. “Yeah,” I reply as he touches my helmet. Does he remember it? For a moment he seems lost in thought. It’s making me nervous. “Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Look,” he says, looking up at me suddenly. “I don’t know how much experience you have. I don’t know what happened in Zone 2. But what we do isn’t heroic or glamorous. It’s difficult and dangerous and nothing like shooting at a wall.”
“I know,” I say lowly, through gritted teeth.
“I’m not trying to–” He stops and sighs, looking away from me and dragging a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to make sure you know what you’re getting into, coming with us. I’ve seen too many kids jump into it and get hurt.” I realize he looks tired. Weighed down.
“I’m not a kid,” I say, and I can tell by his face that he thinks I’ve missed the point. “I get it,” I continue quietly. “You think I don’t see those same kids walking in here? Or that one day one of them won’t walk in and someone will be missing a brother, a sister, a best friend?” He meets my gaze. His eyes are clear hazel-green. “I get it,” I tell him.
“Good,” he says finally. “See you tomorrow morning then.”
I nod. “Goodnight,” I say.
The corner of his mouth pulls up as he opens the door again. “Goodnight.”
5/9/13