Things Fall Apart

The Sandstorm to end all sandstorms had come and went.
Trans AM had finally been launched, thanks to Tommy Chow Mein, who had managed to find some old barrels of Dead Pegasus gas down in the Trash Lords. Tommy Chow Mein always found the most useful things to furnish his bazaar. Nobody quite knew how he did it, and nobody cared, as long as the Rebellion remained standing.
Radio broadcasts were on 24/7 now, and the audience kept on growing.
Rebellion against the Better Living Industries was growling in the downtowns of Battery City and in the Zones.
Maybe, somewhere, life was worth living.
"Listen!" Poison exclaimed, while roughly kicking the studio door open.
He was wearing his aviator sunglasses, tight jeans promoting the Dead Pegasus brand, and a sleeveless shirt that was at least two sizes too big for him, of which he had obviously cut the sleeves of. He stopped in a sassy pose, hand on his hip.
"Wha'd'ya want, Poison baby?" Doctor D replied, taking off his sunglasses. He wasn't impressed one bit by Poison's bold show-off.
"We have to strike them now, while our guns are still steaming and half of the population is backing us. We can't keep on hiding our guts in the Wasteland forever! What would be our point then? We have to go down there and attack them, so they don't feel safe, even in their own city!" Poison passionately cried out.
"Poison..." Doctor Death Defying sighed "I see your point. A very good point that is... But this is madness! We're still too weak, the BL/ind are way too organised. We need to recruit more. Besides, if we strike them now, they'll know we have a cause, they'll know what we're up too, and they'll only be too prepared the day we might finally be ready. I know it's tough and boring, but we're gonna be stuck here for a while, kid..."
"Bullshit!" Poison screamed angrily. "They already know what we're up to! They sent the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W down here! They're defying us! We need to strike back quickly, not wait! We're not cowards, are we?"
"No, that is out of the question! I forbid you to step a toe into that damned city, you hear me boy?" Doctor D replied calmly, but nevertheless threateningly.
"Try and stop me!" Poison yelled, storming out, violently slamming the door behind him without waiting for Doctor D's comeback. The door reopened seconds later, to let a bewildered Cherri Cola in.
"What's up with him?" He gently asked.
"Humm, he's bored to death here... I don't blame him." Doctor D replied. "Just leave him be... He'll eventually make up his mind. Deep down, he knows I'm right..."
Cola nodded but said nothing.
He knew how difficult it was to make Poison change his mind once an idea had settled into his pretty little skull.

Poison screamed out his rage, kicking sand, under the concerned look of Jet Star. For a moment, sun shone through the thin grains flying in the air, but soon they all settled back on the ground of the Wasteland, back from their fleeting moment of individuality to a blind mass.
"Hey Uncle!" Fun Ghoul cried out for behind him "Are you done yet baby?"
Poison couldn't help but notice this was the second time in less than a day that he had been called "baby". He'd need to tame these people again. Nobody called Party Poison, the most dangerous Killjoy in the Zones, a "baby".
Nobody.
"Shut up Ghoul, or I'll kick your nuts." Poison hissed.
"Uncle, Uncle, sky's bright blue today!" Fun Ghoul insisted. He took of his shoes and lithely jumped on his feet to start dancing madly.
"What the fuck?" Jet Star whispered.
"What the frick-frack did you just said?" Fun Ghoul suddenly stopped dancing, looking really angry. "I want to hear no cuss words in front of me again, have I made myself clear?" He looked so mad Jet Star only muttered a "Yes Sir" as an answer.
Kobra Kid watched the whole scene in silence.
"So anyways, what did Doctor D. said?" Jet Star gently asked Poison.
"We don't need Doctor D. We're the Fabulous Killjoys damn it!" Gerard replied. Frank shrieked at the curse word again "... He said no, of course not." Poison continued "he said we're not ready, they're too organised, that we need to recruit more."
"Humph, yeah he's probably right. You should listen to him, he's wise."
"He's just an old man! He's at least thirty! The BL/ind sent goddam -sorry Ghoul- S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W here! And we survived! I think we're more than ready! Besides eliminating them would be sooo helpful. I saw their leader, a bald man with bushy eyebrows and a nose like an eagle's beak. We need to kill him first, then the rest of them will lose confidence and we'll win."
"I don't know, Poison..." Jet Star wisely replied furrowing his eyebrows "should we?"
"Hell yeah I'm in!" Fun Ghoul screamed.
"Kobra will do whatever I tell him, so he's in too..." Poison continued, as though he was defying Jet Star. His icy look almost got the latter scared, as though every hesitating second drove him more and more towards unreliance from Poison.
"Alright..." Jet Star sighed. "Maybe you're right, maybe we ARE ready, maybe I'm just scared... I'm in."
"Good!" Poison smirked. He had won. "Fabulous Killjoys, let's go!"
Kobra couldn't help but notice how his brother's black roots were beginning to grow over his long Poison-red hair again.
He remembered how his brother's hair used to be entirely black. It was as though his old identity was trying to outgrow what he had became, taking back over his body, that once belonged to him but that he had lost to wilderness.
Wild. That was the word.
Everyone was going wild in the Wasteland, they had lost their humanity behind a mask and a new name.
And they thought it was Good. They thought it was the point.
But Kobra knew that even though the Better Living Industries had appropriated themselves and aggravated humanity, it had existed before, and existed beyond that dystopian world they had created.
And he wondered where his 'real' brother's mind wandered now, and if he could reach him, or if he had just gone forever, and all that was left of him was an empty body and a fake name to hide behind, spawn of his once flourishing imagination.
Did his brother really cared about him anymore? Kobra didn't know. He knew he used to. Maybe he was just gone forever now.

They patiently waited for nighttime to fall. They had prepared Trans AM with everything they needed, filled its gas tank. It was the car's first official trip. And it was straight to Battery City.
Not one of them had been there ever since Everything Went Berserk, three years ago from now.
It was a place they used to call Home.
Sometimes, they caught a glimpse of it from the Trash Lords. It had changed a lot ever since the Better Living Industries had settled here. New black and white buildings had risen, and the suburbs appeared darker and darker. A smelly black industrial cloud had settled above everything, provoked by the BL/ind's immense factories. What did they produce? Nobody really knew. Most of them assumed droids, technology, weaponry and modification of the Draco agents or maybe even the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit.
At night, the blue-ish electro-lights were so bright that nobody living here could possibly behold the lighted-out stars.
In the Zones, the Killjoys could.
Once they were sure everyone in the Radio House was asleep, the four Killjoys, who had managed to remain awake until then, silently got up and tip-toed outside.
Trans AM was waiting for them under the moonlight, ready to go, as a fifth element of their unbeatable team.
They hopped into it, a rush of adrenaline running through their veins.
The sound of the engine starting woke Doctor Death Defying up, but, by the time he managed to get outside, the prints of wheels on the sand indicated Poison, Goul, Kobra and Jet-Star were already gone. Doctor D shook his head and sighed.
He knew he wouldn't see those ones ever again.
That was a shame, really, he had started to like them, they were good elements.
But, in the Wasteland, you shouldn't hold on to anything for too long, so he rolled back inside and went back to sleep.
The four of them were on their own now.
The sunshine was starting to rise in blood red shades when they reached the Trash Lords.
They weren't really expecting to get out of here alive. They had opened all the windows, letting the wind blow through their hair, probably for the last time.
Their guns were charged on their sides. They were wearing their war paint.
They were driving a little too fast. Their music was a little too loud.
And maybe that's why they felt alive.
The Witch was carrying them on her wings.
Her children.
The Fabulous Killjoys.

Poison woke up to a blinding light. His whole body was aching. He attempted to move a little but failed. He was tied up on what seemed to be a chair. He battered his eyelids in order to see through the light, but in vain. The light was all there was. This, and his pain and inability to move.
Bit by bit, all his senses started to wake up, his whole body hurt and his ears were tingling, but not enough for him not to notice he wasn't alone. He heard people, breathing.
Suddenly, he realised. He had recognised his brother's breath. He would have, in a thousand. They all were with him.
They'd face it together.
A female electronic voice echoed in the room.
"Suspect n°1357 2346 7778, public enemy n°3, danger rate: 92.7%, Party Poison, formerly known as citizen Gerard Arthur Way.
Suspect n°1357 2346 7779, public enemy n°8, danger rate: 10% when alone, 95.8% when with suspect n°1357 2346 7778. Kobra Kid, formerly known as citizen Michael James Way.
Suspect n°1357 2346 7782, public enemy n°6, danger rate: 70.2%, Jet Star, formerly known as citizen Raymond Toro.
Suspect n°1357 2346 8230, public enemy n°4, danger rate: 96.4%, Fun Ghoul, formerly known as citizen Franklin Anthony Thomas Iero junior."
"Gerard Way, eh?" A voice, human this time, repeated, from behind the light. "That is a pretty average name. If I were you I'd go for Party Poison too."
"Who... Who are you?" Poison, or was it Gerard, managed to pronounce.
"Oh how rude of me!" The man exclaimed in a mocking tone, lowering the light so that they could could see him.
"The name's Korse. I'm head S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W and Better Living Industries number two."
He was accompanied with two S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W agents in uniform.
Korse was wearing a plain white suit with a black tie. His head was bald, his eyebrows thick and his nose like an eagle's beak.
Poison growled, recognising the bald man he had seen in the Wasteland.
"You fought well." Korse continued "I'm impressed, lots of my men perished. But, four little teenagers against the entirety of the Better Living Industries? You mustn't be serious, that is madness. Seems like the Rebellion is not that much of a big deal we thought it was after all." Korse showed his pointy teeth, too pointy to be natural, Kobra thought, he must have had carved them in order to look more cruel.
"You're Mikey..." Korse said, softly, suddenly turning towards him, as though he had been reading his thoughts.
"He can't talk." Poison immediately snapped. "And his name is Kobra Kid now."
Kobra looked at him. Sure, Mikey could have talked. But not for Korse. He couldn't talk. He was Kobra Kid.
"You look so pitiful." Korse turned back to Gerard. "I really overestimated you. We do know everything about your brother, fool. We know everything about you. Did you really think the desert could keep you safe?"
Poison didn't reply but looked at him hatefully.
"I know what that look means..." Korse smirked, amused "it means you just named me your worse enemy. Because all superheroes need a supervillain in return right? But I'll break it to you, kid: you're no hero. And I'm no villain. We're working to make our world better, without us, it'll be nothing but chaos. You remember how the world was, after the helium wars, right? Thank god we were here to straighten things up, or god knows where we'd be today. Probably all dead. You know I'm right. See? You're not a hero, just a spoilt kid trying to make as much noise as possible so people notice him."
Ghoul suddenly and unexpectedly exploded in a very high pitched nervous laugh.
"What's so funny!" Korse yelled, suddenly red with anger.
This almost amused Kobra, the way this man was growing so mad at something that didn't have that much importance really. What mattered to Korse was his authority, and right now, his authority was being scorned, and this didn't please him at all.
"Franklin Anthony Thomas Iero Junior... How disappointing ..." Korse sighed.
"Frank'll do." Ghoul replied, smiling, unimpressed by the man's break of nerves. He could do worse himself. "Though I reckon Fun Ghoul sounds way more... classy."
Jet Star had remained silent the whole time, overwhelmed by the events happening before him, and really, who could blame him?
"Anyways." Korse continued, as calm as if nothing had ever happened "The only reason you're here and still alive, is that we need actual humans to test products we've been elaborating on. That one..." He said, gesturing towards a briefcase he had left on the table "is supposed to eradicate all future pain for the user, but, in order for it to work, the subject must firstly start to feel all the worst pain they could ever felt. The one tiny problem is that you might die in the process."
He opened the briefcase and got a big syringe out, turning to Poison, a big smile on his face.
"I say we start with you. Now, I could say this won't hurt but it's actually gonna hurt, a lot."
There were painful screams reverberating all around, followed by heavy pantings and diverse grunting.
Kobra had believed to be recognising his brother's voice, but it sounded different somehow, weak, scared. Surely, it mustn't have been Him. How long ago did it start? He had lost all notion of time, but the yellings had stopped now, and suddenly, he knew his turn had came.
Korse wiped his hands on his white suit, leaving a red smudge.
Kobra wondered if it seemed like a black smudge to him.
He had noticed how, ever since they were here, he had started to see less and less colours. Slowly, everything had started to turn greyish.
And suddenly he became oblivious of everything around. There was this one thing, this one tiny thing, like a thin string as hot as red iron, running from one of his ear to the other, cutting right through his brain. He opened his mouth and tried to scream but no sound came, he was blind, deaf, and mute. But mute was from before, wasn't it?
Pain makes you forget everything else, and pain was all there was. The pain was black, entirely black, except from this one tiny red spot in the middle. And the spot screamed as it grew bigger, both in size and sound. And it exploded. Everything yelled. And everything was red.
Could BL/ind formatted people even see pain?
It was as though Kobra's brain exploded. He felt himself slip into a dark and endless oblivion. He didn't try to run away from it, quite the contrary, he embraced it, as it seemed to chase away the pain.

Pain is nothing but a concept.

Poison suddenly woke up in a white bed. He had trouble opening his eyes. His head hurt a little, but it seemed like nothing. He tried his best to remember, and only a faint memory of unbearable pain came back to him. He eventually opened his eyes.
A black and white nurse was looking at him.
"He's awake!" She said. Then she pinched his arm. He moved back a little and realised he was handcuffed to his bed.
"Did this hurt?"
"A bit." Poison replied. He voice sounded husky, as though he had been yelling at the point of breaking his vocal cords.
"14's a failure." She simply said, and got away from the bed.
"Wait..." Poison feebly muttered, not understanding "come back..." But she didn't.
Suddenly another face appeared above his bed, another nurse. But that one wasn't as black and white as the other.
"Hey..." She whispered "Are you okay?"
"I don't know..." Poison mumbled.
"Do you remember your name?"
Poison thought about it for a moment. And suddenly everything came back to him.
"I'm Poison. Party Poison." He said "where are the others?"
"I thought you were." The nurse smiled, while sitting on the side of his bed. "I'm a big fan. What you do... It's great... One day I'll get out of here too, and I'll join you all, in the Wasteland. Already got my Killjoy name, it's Bunny." She rapidly said, smiling broadly.
"Don't smile so much, you'll get noticed..." Poison hushed "where are the others?" He repeated.
"Ah, um, Fun Ghoul's right across you, he woke up a few minutes before you. He's resting for now. His vaccine didn't work either, except it seems his brain got damaged... He's nuts!"
"Oh no..." Poison replied softly "he already was like that before."
"Oh good." Bunny replied.
Even though he was in the heart of the Better Living Industries, everything wasn't so black and white for Poison, ever since he had started talking to Bunny, she lighted up his day, when everything had seemed at its worst.
"Jet Star is next to Fun Ghoul" she continued, unaware of Poison's thoughts "He's very lucky, his just didn't do anything. Maybe he'll get side effects later though. But for now he's fine. If you are strong enough to sit up you could see them. And Kobra Kid is right next to you. He's very feeble. Honestly, it still might kill him, he's in between life and death... The thing is that, from the start, his constitution was really weak, so he didn't take it as well as you all... I'm sorry..." She said, looking down.
"Help me to my side... " Poison whispered, suddenly concerned for his brother.
Silently, Bunny gently turned him around, so that he could face his brother.
"Kobra..." He called softly "I'm sorry... It's all my fault..."
"I don't mean to intervene" Bunny cut him "but I really don't think it is."
Coming from anyone else, Poison would have thought this rude and offending, but Bunny really sounded like she was trying to help, and Poison found this comforting.
He gazed at his brother's sunken face, his skin, paler than usual, almost as white as the bed's sheet, his red eyes, his distorted look, as though he was suffering, his burning skin. Poison reached out his hand and clumsily caressed his hair.
"It'll be okay..." He whispered "I promise..."
Bunny gently helped Poison back into place.
"You should rest a little, I'll take care of him, he'll be fine. You're still weak, you'd better gather up your forces."
Poison nodded, his eyes were already closing.
"We will see each other again a lot, Party Poison." She whispered.
When he opened his eyes again, Bunny was gone. He was now able to sit up in bed by himself. Fun Ghoul was still sleeping, facing him, but Jet Star was gone. On his side, Kobra's bed had disappeared too. He hoped nothing had happened to him. Was he still alive?
He guessed that if his brother was dead, he would have known.
A few moments later, four fully equipped Dracos entered the room and unlocked his handcuffs from the bed, immediately tying his hands behind his back and leading him with a lasergun aimed at his back.
Had he been stronger, he would have tried to fight back and flee, but maybe that was the point, making them lose their strength, their willingness. And, surely, this was way more cruel than death, reducing them to their basest instincts : staying alive was all that counted: breathing, eating, sleeping was all they cared for now. The Rebellion was long gone. And soon, even staying alive would become meaningless.
At least, for Poison, it would have, if it hadn't been for Bunny.
Killing them would have turned them into martyrs, but keeping them alive was letting them slowly being forgotten by the population as well as their comrades and themselves, so that when the end would come, they would be nothing but four other humans amongst 7 billions, nothing more, nothing less. Not a life that mattered more, not a thing to be remembered. Nothing.

"Bad news from the Zones, tumbleweeds.
It looks like Jet Star and the Kobra Kid had a clap with an Exterminator
That went all Costa Rica
And uh,
Got themselves ghosted.
Dusted out on Route Guano.
So it's time to hit the red line
And up-thrust the volume out there.
Keep your boots tight,
Keep your gun close,
And die with your mask on if you've got to.
Here
Is the traffic..."
Doctor Death Defying sadly pushed away his mike while Cherri Cola started reporting the current traffic, trying his best to ignore the bomb Doctor D had just dropped.
To be honest with himself, Doctor D had no idea if the fabulous Killjoys were still alive, though they probably weren't, so that he had been reporting their death on the Radio. Honourable Deaths while fighting. It was a lie, of course. But, as symbols, they were better off Dead than Alive. Dead made them martyrs. Alive made them or cowards or forgotten. Was this propaganda? Was this the very thing they had been reproaching the Better Living Industries to do? But it seemed like the right thing to do right now. Maybe the BL/ind and Rebellion weren't so different, after all.
Doctor D wondered where his friends' bodies were, at this very moment, in which state, and if they had found peace. He pictured their four bloody masks, teared away from their faces, lying there, on the black and white floor, without no witch to collect them.
Having finished reporting the traffic, Cherri Cola put on a song and turned off his mike, turning to Doctor D.
The latter didn't even wait for his friends question, already seeing tears raising up to his eyes.
"The Fabulous Killjoys are dead."
But little did he know.
He didn't know that
Killjoys never die.

Notes

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