She Always Hated The Cold.

“Battery baby.” I pointed to a petite girl (Smaller than me!) with dull blonde hair. “Cyanide Blaster.” A largely built boy, with bright blue eyes. “And Hydrogen Cutie.” A taller girl with curly hair. I’d just finished naming some new killjoy-wannabes, and was leading them to our initiation room. “So if you pass initiation, you will be given a room to stay in with one or two roommates, depending on how stocked we are right now. We will provide showers, food, and beds. That’s it. Clothing, makeup, ect, is your responsibility. We are here to train you until you’re ready to handle yourself, and when the time’s right, take down you-know-who.” They nodded, giving me their undivided attention. “You will be trained in stealth, weapon-handling, and proper killing techniques. This will take 12 weeks, and if you pass you’re evaluation, you’re on your own, or invited to help out here. But first, initiation.” Baby looked a little nervous. “And for that look right there,” I called her out. “You’re going first.”
“Ok.” She said quietly. I lead her into the room. A drac was struggling against his restraints, and I pulled his mask off to reveal a sniveling man with a needy look in his eyes. Fucking junkies.
“Kill him.” I tossed her a ray gun. Her eyes widened, and her hands shook.
“Why him?” She asked.
“Did you really just ask me that?” Some of these newbies made me hate my job. But, if you want something done right, do it yourself. “This Ritalin-Rat, this junkie, is the reason we’re in hiding. The reason that a lot of us die every day, 90% of which are newbies like you. The rest a victim of circumstance. KILL. HIM.” I commanded. She started to cry. “Weak.” I said, pulling my ray gun out of my pocket, and shooting her right between the eyes. “Next.” I called to Cutie. Her eyes were wide at what she just saw. I tossed her the same, blank gun. She got a feel for the gun in her hand, and shot the drac down, making eye-contact with him the entire time. She might just be Elite status. I cracked a grin.
“That gun is now yours to decorate as you please.” I said. “Your turn.” I said to Blaster, before calling out to Renegade, my assistant of sorts. “Another!” A second drac was tossed roughly into the room, and Renegade, a beautiful, curvy brunette with magnificent green eyes, leaned against the door-jam to watch the last beggar of my time and resources. Time and resources I was willing to give if it meant BL/ind burning in hell. A nice, slow roast it would be. With popcorn and booze for all. I had a stash of liquor saved up for such an occasion. I tossed him another blank gun, and again yanked the dracs mask off. This one was full of tears and mucus. “Shoot-“ I didn’t even finish before the drac was dead. “Very nice.” I appraised. I lead the two newest recruits out of the initiation room. “Please clean this up!” I called to Renegade.
“Ok. Now let me fully debrief you on how things work here. Starting tomorrow, you and 6 other newbies will begin the opportunity to train. You’ll be referred to as Ducklings. Now, I say ‘Opportunity’ for a reason. You are not forced to train. However, there will be an evaluation in 12 weeks to see if you’re up to par to survive on your own, or be of use to the world when dealing with BL/ind. If you fail that evaluation, you’re on your own. No squad, no further help from me, or anyone else who goes through me, which is 70% of all killjoys. Odds would not be in your favor. If you pass, there are plentiful options available to you if you choose to work here. If not, you will be deployed into either a new squad, replacing someone who got dusted from another squad, or placed into the ‘Elite’ category. Elites are responsible for gathering supplies in Battery City, and are taken care of quite well for doing so. Squads are free to live in whichever zone they please, but will be called upon for the Great War, and will need to be in excellent shape for that. How do you stay in shape? Killing dracs. Care packages are sent to secret locations every two weeks.” We’d arrived at the boarding section of my facility. “Now, it looks like we have an opening in both room 4 and room 9. Pick. Here’s a map, and some scheduling information. For instance, feel free to grab a bite to eat anywhere from 5 to 7 am, 1 pm, or 8 to 9 pm.” I turned on my heel leaving them to their own devices. Yes, this whole place, this whole organization, was mine. After the Helium War started, 70% of the population died. Buildings burned, and everything turned to desert. California was the only place that still held power, running water, and a few vacated establishments. But Battery City… Was a legitimate city. Tons of apartments, shopping centers, grocery stores, whatever those Rats needed. Fucking pill junkies. Now, I’ll admit: I lived in Battery City for a while, and even took some of the pills BL/ind dished out. I will give BL/ind this: Those pills are fucking sunshine in a 325 milligram capsule. Parties, everynight. And I continued taking them until I noticed it erasing some of who I was as a person. Any patience I might’ve once had was gone for the most part, I’d lost my love for bass, and I’d all but forgotten my mother. I had to fight like a motherfucker to keep her memory at least partially alive. But once I kicked the pills, I got my shit, and moved out into Zone 8, the most desolate Zone. I’d found this here facility, fixed it up completely alone, stocked it, and planned to live alone, defending myself if needed, and coming up with a plan to take BL/ind down myself. It wasn’t long after that, that wannabes started coming. And coming. And coming. After being alone and forced to survive for so long, my fighting skills were pretty decent. So I taught. Some I kept, some I tossed, some got killed, some I killed (I had decent reasons I swear!). This lead to me being the most (in)famous Killjoy, and a huge WANTED poster BL/ind was kind enough to whip up.
I swung by what we considered the Mess hall, and grabbed some of the nasty, tasteless beans we could get our hands on. That was another thing: If anyone (Ducklings were more prone to this than others) bitched about my amenities, they were kicked out. Permanently. Elites, including myself, had our own rooms (There were currently 5 of us), and Ducklings shared. We had 8 rooms, so the most Ducklings we ever had at one time was 24, a quarter of them were due for their evaluations soon, but we only had a good 16 of them at the moment. I ate on the way to my room. I plopped down on my bed, and had snoozed for all of 5 minutes when I got a knock on my door.
“BH, we got four more.” Renegade said, shaking me lightly.
“Fuck. I hate people.” I bitched. BH was short for Bandit Hunter, my name since BL/ind was founded.
“I know.” She said as I got up. I walked along-side her up to the entrance, my mask not on. I typically didn’t wear it unless I stepped outside. There were four boys. One with dulling red hair, one with massively curly (And from the circumstances, frizzy) hair, one with greasy blonde hair, combed back, and one with floppy black hair. They all wore wacky masks. “Party Poison.” I pointed to the redhead. “Jet Star.” Fro-Guy. “Kobra Kid.” Greasy blonde. “And Fun Ghoul.” They were all rigid in my presence, and no one said a word to me, all exchanging glances amongst each other. Whatever. “Follow me.” I said, giving them the same rundown as the other Ducklings, and making my way AGAIN to the initiation room. The drac was tossed, and before I said anything, the all shot him with lightning reflexes. “So it looks like you’re already skilled. Why are you here?” I asked.
“To get better.” The redhead said. Holy shit. I knew that voice. But no. It couldn’t be. There was no way he survived coming all the way from Jersey.
“Take off your mask.” I said quietly. He hesitated. “I’m sorry, did I stutter?” I asked, walking up to him slowly. He took off his mask, and I gasped, falling back. It was him. In the flash. Gerard. “I’m going fucking crazy.” I said to myself, everything spinning. “Renegade…” I called, leaning onto the wall for support. The rest of them too off their masks. Ray, Mikey, Frank. That was it. It was too much. The only thing I remember was falling, but not hitting the ground. I woke up an immeasurable amount of time later. Trusty Renegade was by my side.
“Where is he?” I asked desperately.
“Where is who?”
“Party Poison. The Duckling from earlier.”
“I’ll go get him.” She said, walking away. That was a test. So he was alive. I didn’t imagine it. A few minutes later, there he was. He’d lost weight, and his eyes held too much anxiety. “Gee…” I whispered. He came near me slowly, like I was an animal who might bite.
“Jess?” He asked. I started crying, and flung my arms around him.
“How-? And the rest-? New Jersey-?”
“Shh.” He shushed me, smoothing my hair. “I’ll explain everything.”

Notes

Killjoys, make some noise!
So did you guess that this was coming?
I'm thinking there will be 2 more chapters...