Just the Worst Kind

It was hot. Hot and dry. Miles and miles of desert stretched out as far as the short, dreaded girl could see. By now, though, she was used to it. Five years of surviving on her own had taught her at least one thing: get used to be lonely because there isn’t that much good company out there for a rebel in the desert.

There was no shortage of bad company, though. She’d stumbled upon an old BL/ind storage facility a few minutes back, apparently completely abandoned of all human life at first glance and, in her eyes, a perfect source of sustenance. There was a surprisingly amount of edible food left in the abandoned buildings, something she was extremely grateful for, and her stomach was growling.

Unfortunately, fate had decided to be a bitch that day, and instead of making it easy for her it had gone and thrown a spanner in the works. She'd watched the place cautiously for about two minutes — just to make sure — and, just as she was about to make her move, two black cars emblazoned with the BL/ind logo came screeching into the parking lot. Out poured five skinny men in white suits and ridiculous white cartoon masks with sharp, blood-stained teeth and a shock of black plastic-looking hair.

Draculoids.

She drew in a sharp breath, dropping into a crouch behind a stack of tyres handily near by to hide from their sights. She yanked her black domino mask off her eyes and brought her ray-gun up to her eye level. To get a better shot she took a deep breath and squinted her eyes slightly, focusing on nothing but the bright white suits of the Draculoids mere feet away from her. Her whole concentration was on lining up the gun perfectly to take out as many of the enemy as she could with one shot.

She’d just about got it perfect when somebody laughed behind her and said, “Hey, can I have a go?”

The sound made her jump, and then she accidentally hit the trigger of her gun.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The accidental shot ricocheted off the wall of the building, rebounding and hitting a nearby Draculoid smack bang in the chest in an impressive show of luck. He went down like a ton of bricks, but unfortunately the others were left standing. They were instantly alert, ray-guns in their hands, searching out the source of the shot with cold, calculating sweeps of their eyes.

One seemed to take charge and started to shout orders at the others, and they spread out into a defensive stance with their guns covering every escape route she could see.

“You fuckwit!” The girl snapped, not even bothering to turn to see who the hell who had spoken. They weren’t a Drac — their accent assured her that — and at the moment in time that was all she needed to know. Pleasantries could come later.

“Hey, honey, no need to be so rude. I was just asking.”

She would have torn them — or rather, him, judging by the voice — a new one for calling her ‘honey’, but at that point in time she was more worried about getting out of the situation alive.

As she turned her head to see if she could dart sideways and find another cover quick enough not to get shot she noticed three shadows on the floor which definitely shouldn’t have been there. The people they belonged to were obviously hiding behind the nearby wall, and it was with sudden dread she realized it could be yet more Dracs. She wasn’t sure if this could get much worse.

But maybe it could. The person who’d distracted her dropped into a crouch next to her. She looked over at him. He was about her age, maybe slightly older, with shoulder-length dark hair, a weird purple-and-green rubber Frankenstein mask on the top of his head and an irritating smirk on his face. He may have looked young but his eyes still burned with a fiery knowledge, although even that didn’t relax her.

“On three, we’re gonna make a break for it, okay?” he said. He looked totally serious but all she could think was ‘Make a break for it? And what, get shot? Was he fucking insane?’ She shot him an incredulous look, thinking he was obviously one of those people she’d heard of who’d gone cuckoo thanks to the drugs BL/ind practically force-fed them.

He just quirked an eyebrow, quickly mouthed ‘one, two, three’, then grabbed her wrist and dragged her up into a standing position.

“Oi, you smelly motherfuckers,” he yelled, grinning manically and wildly waving his hands. “Want a piece of this, suckas?”

He darted forward, dragging her with him, just as all the Dracs spun around, bringing their guns up as they did so. Her heart leapt into her mouth as she prepared to die, squeezing her eyes shut and cursing herself for being a slave to her stomach and even coming here in the first place.

But, despite her certainty this was most definitely the end, no death came.

Instead, there was a loud ‘yodel-odel-lay-ee-oooo’ and then the sound of excited yells and the familiar pew pew pew of ray-guns going off. Her eyes shot open as she took in the sight of flying beams of various colours and all the Dracs falling to the ground within seconds of each other, clutching their chests where they’d been shot by... three newcomers to the whole insane as fuck scene. One, a guy with long, tangled hair such a bright red colour it hurt her eyes, winked in her direction just as he shot the last Drac again to make sure he was really dead, planting his feet either side of the Drac’s torso in a pose that made him look like he belonged playing the role of a hero in an action movie, albeit one with ridiculous hair.

The annoying-smirking-guy-who-obviously-had-a-death-wish standing beside her dropped his grip on her wrist, blew on the tip of his gun, slid it back into place in the holster strapped to his shoulder and spun around to face her. He stuck his hand out.

“Hi, I’m Fun Ghoul. You are?”

She ignored his greeting, and instead settled for yelling, “Are you fucking crazy, you fucking bastard? You could have gotten me killed! You almost did! I am going to fucking kill you!” at him at the top of her lungs instead and bringing up her hands, balled into fists, to her chest, ready to beat the living crap out of him. She probably could have, too, considering he was only about an inch taller than her and didn’t look that strong. Suddenly, though, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against a body and pinning her arms to her sides.

She screeched in surprise, automatically assuming it was another of the Dracs, and brought her foot up into their crotch, as hard as she could. Her assailant crumpled. She turned to see, wide-eyed, that it wasn’t one of the mask wearing bastards, but the red-haired man who’d winked at her, now curled up into the foetal position on the ground and groaning. He looked a lot less cocky like that.

“Oh man, you’re fucking violent!” Fun Ghoul cried gleefully at her, dropping down to his knees next to his fallen comrade and grinning at him in very unsympathetic way. “You okay, Gee?”

“Fuck,” the guy forced out through clenched teeth in response, looking like he was holding back tears. Fun Ghoul patted him on his shoulder like you would a dog and nodded.

“Ah, I feel your pain, man,” he said, getting back onto his feet as another guy with two-toned hair, which faded from bleach blond to dark brown at the roots, came forward and helped the red-haired one sit up. This one, clad in a red leather jacket to rival the colour of the other one’s hair and carrying a brightly coloured motorbike helmet, shot the girl a dark look but said nothing.

“So, name?” Fun Ghoul demanded, turning to look at her. “Or are you one of those weird kids who don’t have one?”

“My name is Zero,” she said shortly, smoothing down her dust-covered, formerly white jeans which had been almost clean a few minutes back. “Now care to tell me what the fuck just happened?” She glanced purposely at the pile of ghosted Dracs to their right, and then at the three other members of his group behind him. She tried not to linger on the dead, because then she’d remember that there were real people behind the masks, innocent people who could have been okay if it weren’t for the mind-altering drugs they were pumped full of. She’d never met a Drac who hadn’t tried to kill her, though, which definitely helped with the guilt.

She took the chance to look the Fun Ghoul one up and down, scrutinizing the army green vest and bright yellow-and-black Baseball top he wore. He certainly didn’t want to blend in, she thought, taking in his friends with another sweeping look and noticing that none of them did either. The red-jacketed one had helped the red-haired one to his feet, and now he was being held up by the third guy, a taller, more tanned one with wild, curly hair and barely hidden amusement on his face.

“We just saved your ass,” Fun Ghoul answered. “But you’re not very thankful, are you?”

“I was doing fine on my own!” she snapped. “If you hadn’t distracted me — ”

“ — you still would have been shot by that guy there, which my friend Jet Star handled for you,” he cut across her, pointing to the wall the three others had emerged from behind. She noticed, for the first time, a white-sleeved arm poking out and a white ray-gun laying on the ground nearby.

Jesus Christ, how had she missed that Drac? He would have been able to see her, for sure, even hidden behind the tyres. Still, she frowned, unwilling to admit that she may have actually been in danger. “I could have handled it,” she said, turning to the three others. “What about you guys? Do you have names?”

“These guys are my cheerleading squad,” Fun Ghoul said quickly, grinning. “They look awesome in the outfits, trust me.”

She felt a spike of annoyance, and the urge to slap him silly. “I was asking them,” she said, ignoring his joking tone of voice.

“I’m Jet Star,” said the curly-haired one, nodding and completely ignoring Fun Ghoul. “This is Party Poison,” he continued, pointing at the one she’d kneed and then at the guy with the jacket on, who was still scowling at her, “and his brother, Kobra Kid. Zone six Killjoys, at your service.”

“The Kobra Kid,” Kobra Kid said, emphasising the ‘the’ in his name.

Everyone seemed to ignore him. Zero was too busy thinking about what Jet Star had just said. Brother? That would explain the whole death glare The Kobra Kid was giving her; apparently kneeing his brother in the crotch didn't put her in his good books. Fair enough.

She stopped frowning, but didn't smile either. "What are you guys doing around here? Past zone six is usually abandoned... I haven’t seen anybody near here for months. Nobody wants to go this far out, the fucking acid rain scares them off.”

“We're hunting for resources,” Fun Ghoul explained, apparently the most talkative of the bunch. Party Poison was still busy groaning and looking like he'd been mortally wounded and Kobra Kid had taken over helping him stay standing from Jet Star, who was silently checking his ray-gun. “Can't live on dehydrated noodles forever and all.”

“That sucks,” Zero said, pushing one of her long dark dreads off her face again. “But I saw this place first so it’s mine. Find your own.”

“Sorry, honey, we did. We've been here at least half an hour. And anyway, didn't your mother teach you to share? She'd be so disappointed.”

"Do not mention my mother again," she snapped, her green eyes burning with anger. “Ever.”

“Touchy.” Fun Ghoul raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely taken aback. “You know, you can take whatever you need. We ain't gonna stop you, not after we saved your butt and all. It would be of ridiculous for us to do that and then hurt you or something, wouldn't it? Not our style anyway.”

Zero eyed him cautiously, calming herself down by shoving the flare of emotion out of her mind.

“I suppose so,” she said finally, maybe slightly regretting the way she'd reacted. She still wasn't entirely pleased with the situation — certainly not with this Fun Ghoul guy, who seemed to think he was the best thing since reconstituted soup — but she realized that it was best to just suck it up and deal with it. They had helped her, after all, and there was no need to throw it back in their faces.

He grinned and clapped her on the shoulder, ignoring the dark look she shot him in return. “I knew you'd come to your senses! So, who's up for looting this place, eh?”

They all seemed to know exactly what they were doing, like looting a place was a well-practised regime. Zero had no doubt it was — nobody was naïve enough to think they could survive in the zones which resorting to stealing; it really was the only way to assure a constant supply of meals for the times the smugglers failed the rebels. And the smugglers often failed them. Smuggling was a dangerous occupation, and it wasn’t unheard of for even some of the more well-known ones to go missing for weeks at a time when they had to hide from S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W operatives.

Jet Star led the way around the corner to the front of the facility and picked up a rucksack that had been left by the wall. Zero gathered it was one of theirs, judging from how beaten up it was — it was covered in holes and threadbare patches and it looked like if you put so much as one pound too much in it it would fall apart.

Kobra Kid pulled out his gun and stayed by the door as a guard whilst the others walked inside, and Zero followed after a few hesitant seconds. The three fanned out, Fun Ghoul taking the backpack and heading straight for the backrooms. Jet Star went off to scout the rest of the place and Party Poison just slumped down in a chair against the wall and stayed there with his head in his hands.

“Hey, Party Poison?” Zero said, shuffling over to his side. “I’m sorry about, uh, the whole kicking thing. It was just a reflex, I swear.”

“Forgiven and forgotten,” he said, glancing up at her only briefly. “Well, not exactly forgotten. It stills hurts like a motherfucka. But certainly forgiven. Don’t worry about it. Oh, and call me Poison, please, it’s easier.”

“Okay then.” She paused to smile slightly at him before swivelling around and going after Fun Ghoul to see if there was anything she wanted before he took everything. She found him in one of the smaller storage areas, a thin little room with scant space to move around in which had floor-to-ceiling shelves bursting with produce. Most of it wasn’t very fresh, and in fact the stench hit her as soon as she got close enough. She’d smelt worse — dead bodies for one — but the combination of the smell and the sight of the food wasn’t helping the sickness from hunger settling in her abdomen and she walked into the room with trepidation, wondering if there was a bucket nearby she could use if her stomach failed her.

“This place is like a treasure trove!” Fun Ghoul yelled at her when he turned to see the dark-haired girl standing at the other end of the room, still near the door. He laughed at the disgusted expression on her face. “Don’t worry Zero, just hold your nose and you’ll be fine.”

She took his advice, pinching her nose with her fingers and moving further in. “Find anything good?” she asked. Pinching her nose meant her voice came out funny and she saw him crack a smile at it. She was tempted to glare at him but held it back, biting her lip instead.

He grinned a bit more, holding up a thick slab of chocolate neatly wrapped in cling-film, she hadn’t noticed he had had in his hands. “This,” he said. “And it’s not even cooking chocolate, it’s the real shit. Here, try some.” He pulled back the wrapping, broke off a small chunk and offered it to her.

“No thank you,” she said. Chocolate was a rare commodity in this day and age and it was quite a find, but she knew if she had some now she’d be craving it for weeks. She dropped her hand from her nose and deciding to just suck it up until she was desensitized to the smell.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, popping it in his own mouth and then stuffing the rest of the bar in the backpack at his feet and crouching down to check out the lower shelves. She peered down at the pack and noticed there were quite a few cans and tins stuffed in there, very haphazardly. She smiled slightly at this, then turned her attention to scanning the shelves for something to quick and easy to eat which wasn’t off. Finally she spotted some granola-type bars tucked between a box of something which didn’t smell too fabulous and some raisins. She grabbed them off the shelf, took one out and threw the packet in the backpack.

Fun Ghoul glanced up. “Want to help?” he asked.

She took a bite of the bar, chewed it slightly, and shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better to do. What do you need?”

“We need all the basics because we’re down to pretty little, really. Completely out of stuff like sugar which has made Ge—Poison a pissy bitch, let me tell you now. He doesn’t like unsweetened coffee and it doesn’t help he’s moody to begin with.” Fun Ghoul grunted in what Zero gathered was annoyance. “If you spot any dried meat, sugar or crackers, let me know. Other than that, just toss useful shit in the bag.”

“Got it,” she replied, snatching the raisins off the shelf and dropping them in the bag.

“Thanks,” he said from the floor after a small pause, still digging through whatever was down there. “I appreciate it.”

She couldn’t help but smile, just a tiny bit. “Don’t mention it,” she said, chucking some juice boxes in with the rest.