Acid Angel and the Fabulous Killjoys

I slammed the door of the truck closed and stood on the hot pavement of Zone 1. "Fuck. Fuck," I yelled. My stupid truck had black smoke billowing out of the hood. This was the last thing I needed. I needed to find supplies and get my ass on the move. I ran my fingers through my lavender hair, catching on tangles and ripping them out. I hadn't had a shower in too long. I sighed. Guess I was gonna have to foot it and find something in this wasteland. I looked around me in all directions, sand dunes and bare cacti were all I saw. Suddenly, I heard a noise. I yanked my gun off my hip and aimed in the direction. I heard it again. "What the fuck is that?" I took a few steps closer, not lowering my gun, and listened. I heard laughter, very faintly, and shots. "What the hell." I stuck my gun back in my belt and grabbed my backpack out of the passenger seat. I kept that backpack ready to go with supplies, and things I didn't want to leave behind should I have to leave my ride. I ripped the keys out of my truck, pissed. It was probably some sixteen year old Killjoys. I was gonna demand supplies and get the fuck out. If I had to sleep in my truck bed for a few weeks, whatever. I'd done it before.

I slung my backpack onto my back and set off in the direction of what I heard. It felt good to stalk again. It brought back good memories from before BL/ind took over. Muscles I hadn't used in a while tensed and flexed. I chuckled to myself and narrowed my eyes, scanning the horizon. Miles away, I saw a low building with a flickering neon sign that was barely visible in the glow of the late afternoon sun. I could just make out a couple figures outside. I strode off in that direction.

Before BL/ind took over, I had a good life. I was engaged. I had the job I always wanted. Things were great. When the take over happened, I was at home. I got a call from my boss, telling me to pack what I needed and run. I didn't ask questions. I didn't call him back. I just packed up every weapon in the entire house, my medical kit, all my ammunition, batteries, extra gasoline, and a couple changes of clothes. I put it in the truck and I drove into the desert, never looking back. My boss had warned me, months before that day, to be ready. There were things happening that didn't make sense. He told me I needed to be ready at a moment's notice, so I had a survival kit already in the truck. That was three years ago.

Wisps of sand blew around me as I made my way toward the building. For Killjoys, they were woefully unobservant, but then again, no one ever saw me coming. The sand brushing the bare skin of my legs felt good. Warm. I paused and looked around me. Heat waves rolled off the sand, the sun was blazing hot. It was hazy. I looked down at myself. I tugged my shorts up, my bare, tan legs shining. I kicked some sand off of my bright purple cowboy boots. I straightened my black corset top, making sure it looked decent. Beauty wasn't too important out here, but that had been one of my advantages years ago. It didn't do much, but anything that would distract enemies for even a second was worth it. I wasn't proud or vain - it was just a fact. I looked harmless, but I was deadly.

I was close enough to count four men having target practice outside what looked like an abandoned diner. I crouched low and observed, drawing circles with my fingers in the sand absentmindedly. One had brilliant red hair. Another, a mass of curls surrounding his head. The third and fourth were opposites, one tall and lanky, the other short and stocky. I'd faced worse. They all had guns, naturally. I reached into my backpack and found the cool metal I was searching for. I hid the knife between my breasts, where it was easily accessible and unexpected. I still liked old weapons. You could come back from a ray gun injury, but a knife to the heart was different. The ray gun wound would cauterize itself, staunch the bleeding enough for you to make it to a medical kit. A knife wound was cold and open. You couldn't do anything about it unless you had a hospital close by.

My body felt lithe beneath me, like a cat, ready to pounce. I was calm, and no tension mantled my shoulders. I moved a few feet closer. I could hear them talking to each other, but I didn't care about what they were saying. I wanted food and equipment so I could fix my truck and move on. I was focused. A sudden movement grasped my attention and I dropped to the sand, invisible to them. A man had walked out of the diner. His deep voice carried across the dunes to me. I recognized that voice. It was Dr. D. Shit. These were the Killjoys. How could I be so stupid? How could I not remember Party Poison's flaming hair? I realized the mess I was in. If I turned back, I was still stuck with no food and a fucked truck. I hadn't eaten in two days, which wasn't my record, but I was hungry nonetheless. I stood. I had to go over there. "Fuck," I spat onto the ground. I hated having to play nice. I wanted to come in, gun blazing, knife in hand, get what I needed and get out. I made my way toward them.

Ten yards away, I was spotted. Four ray guns pointed at me. Dr. D stood calmly behind them, arms folded, smirking slightly. "Motor babies, it's a fellow Killjoy. Why don't you just chill out?" his deep voice radiated in my direction.

"How do we know she's not double?" Party Poison called out.

"'Cause I would've already killed you all, fucktard," I called out, venom dripping off my words. This pissed me off. I didn't want to talk. I kept walking. Everyone but Party Poison lowered their guns. I reached him and I kept walking. I stopped, toe to toe with Party Poison, our faces almost touching. "You gonna shoot me, Party?" I hissed in his face. "You gonna kill me?" His gun was pressed up against my left breast. His eyes glared into mine, anger vibrating off of his skin. He lowered his gun.

"What do you want?" he asked. He backed up a few feet. I caught a look on his face. He looked shaken. Good. He should be scared of me. Fuck it if he was one of the Fabulous Killjoys. I didn't care.

"I need supplies. Some shit to fix my truck up. A shower," I said. Dr. D came over to me.

"We've got what you need, Acid Angel," he said. "Why don't you come inside?"

I followed him in, every inch of my skin crawling. It didn't feel right. I hadn't talked to another Killjoy in almost a year. Three of them followed us, I didn't know their names, but Party Poison stayed outside. I could see him through the dirty window, firing off into the distance. He was seething. I'd embarrassed the big baby, probably. "My office is this way," Dr. D said to me. I stepped into a small dark room. It had a desk and a couple chairs, some old radio equipment, and a dirty window. "Sit down." He sounded a little angry. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah. That's the point," I said. I wasn't in the mood. I wasn't prepared for someone from my old life.

"I'm sorry to hear about Dean," he said, staring at me. That surprised me. I didn't know he knew about Dean. I blinked at him. He chuckled. "You had no idea I knew, did you? That's the thing kid, I knew everything. You shoulda known that. Still. He was a good agent, he would've made a great Killjoy."

"Thanks...Listen, I'm not looking to join a gang. I just really need supplies and to fix my car. I prefer to work alone." I rested my elbows on my knees and rested my head in my hands. I could tell he wasn't for it.

"That's great and all, Luce, but that's not how we're gonna win this," he says. Hearing my real name come out of someone else's mouth shocked me. I hadn't been called Luce in three years. I was surprised he didn't call me what I was last known as, my last cover for my last assignment. At least he didn't pull out the full "Luciana." "We need to work together. And...We got a kid here. The boys do real well taking care of her, but she's ten. Pretty soon, she's gonna need another girl around to talk to."

"Woah, woah, woah, listen up, Steve," I used his real name to get his attention, to let him know that I still knew it. "I'm not a mother. If you really want me to stay here, I'll stay for a night or something, but-" He cut me off.

"Look, I know. You're a cold-blooded killer. I know. I remember working with you years ago when you first started out, though. You used to tell me that you weren't sure if it was what you wanted and I kept telling you you had it - because you did. Now it's time to move on from that. I don't mean you give up all those skills you got, I just mean...Look, she needs somebody like you. You can teach her all the girl stuff that we don't know how to handle and you can teach her all of your sick skills."

"I know what you mean but... Look, all of this screams, 'Hey, Korse, come find me! I'm hanging out with the other members of your most wanted list!' I mean seriously, is it really a good idea for BL/ind's self-designated top enemies to all hang out together?" I had a point and he knew it. Even just the four of them living together was asking for it. Although, I had to admit, if they were gonna do it, the deserts out here in Zone 1 were probably the best place to do it. If you didn't know where you were out here, you would die. Quickly. "Besides, I hate other people," I grouched.

"I know it's not what you're used to. But in all reality, the Killjoys are starting to organize. There are others close by, close enough anyway. We've started doing missions. Don't you want to be in on that? The only way we are ever going to win this is if we are all working together. I'm calling a lot of the shots, but we both know you're better at organizing missions and infiltrating than I am. If you stick around here, you'll get to be a part of that. I know you used to work alone, mostly, but there are reasons why agents never go in totally alone. You know that. C'mon, Luce. You liked other people, once upon a time." The much older man raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, well... Fine. I'll do it. But at least promise me that I'll get some action at least once a week." I sighed. To be completely honest with myself, having some company around would be kind of nice. Being alone in the desert for too long could make a person feel crazy. And as much as I hated it, he was right. The only way we could have a hope of getting rid of BL/ind was if the Killjoys all worked together.

"Trust me, there's plenty of action," Dr. D laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised if we saw some tonight or tomorrow. Oh, and Luce?" he stopped me as I got up. "Try not to kill Party Poison, okay?"