Name Not Final (frerard killjoy au)

Chapter Five: A Lot Of Sodium

Look alive, Sunshine.

109 in the sky but the pigs won't quit, you're here with me...

Dr. Death-defying.

Party Poison jumped off the car and ran into the diner Dr. Death's studio was located.

His cousin was sitting on a wheelchair, waiting for him.

"Party Poison," Dr. Death wheeled into the sun to meet his cousin. Handing the 18-year-old a dusty yellow ray gun and mask. "You're here, you're finally here."

Party Poison bent down and hugged the Dr. His eyes were shining with a childish excitement. "Not only me, Dr. Death," he turned and pointed at Fun Ghoul and Jet Star and Kobra Kid. "They're here, too, Frank and Ray and Mikey."

"Mikey?" Dr. Death wheeled over to the 14-year-old with badly dyed blonde hair and a helmet under an arm. "You're... You're here too?" Ruffling the kid's hair, Dr. Death looked at Kobra Kid's apparel. "You've grown so much."

Kobra Kid just shuffled away awkwardly, his long legs trying not to knock each other over. "Sure, St- Dr. Death."

Dr. Death just smiled sadly at him and wheeled to Jet Star. "And you, Ray... Last time I saw you was when Party pulled you with him to the edge of the city to see Show Pony away," Turning to Fun Ghoul, his smile widened at the boy Party always babbled about. "I've heard Party talk about you a lot, it's a pleasure to meet you... And Peppers, if I'm not mistaken?"

I'll be your surgeon, your procter, your helicopter.

Pumpin' out the slaughtermatic sounds to KEEP YOU LIVE.

The next morning, Dr. Death gathered them around in the diner.

"You guys want to destroy BL/ind, right? Then you gotta..."

A system failure for the masses.

Antimatter for the master plan.

Louder than God's revolver and twice as shiny.

"... Find her."

This one's for all you rock'n'rollers.

All you crash queens and motor babies...

Party shuffled into his jeans and jacket, and grinned at his friends eating canned tuna and laughing at the table. "Killjoys, you ready?" He asked, throwing them each a ray gun.

LISTEN UP!

The Fabulous Killjoys swaggered out the broken-down diner as Dr. Death, the DJ of the desert, wheeled slowly back in.

Party Poison's radio crackled slowly to life as the four of them rode, singing at the top of their lungs to long-since banned rock music, deeper into the zones and to the deserted city that they once lived in.

The future is bulletproof.

"Party..." Kobra tugged at his brother's jacket.

The aftermath is secondary.

Korse was facing them, white gun pointing into their faces.

"I knew you'd come for her. But she's not here."

It's time to do it now, and do it LOUD.

Party gripped the gun in his trembling hand tightly as he shooed Kobra Kid behind him.

"Fuck off," he cursed.

Killjoys, make some noise!

The radio erupted into song as Korse and the goddam draculoids shot.

And the killjoys returned the favour.

Two years of training didn't waste on them.

Rays and rays of light erupted from their guns, shooting holes in the draculoids, holes in the car, holes in the bushes.

Bulletproof vests, Dr. Death had told them. Wear them. It'll come in handy.

They had.

Party took a blow to his chest, the bulletproof vest saving his life, but the force still pushing him off his feet.

He shot a quick glance at his fellow killjoys. Fighting.

Fighting for the lives in Battery City.

Fighting for the lives BL/ind took, so long ago.

Running to the car, he snatched out a handful of grenades they'd stocked.

Pull this pin,the song told him.

Gritting his teeth together, he pulled and threw it at Korse and his draculoids.

Let this world explode...

"Gee!"