The fabulous Killjoys: After SING

“We need to find her now,” Charles yelled as a bunch of BL/I goons scrambled out of the way of the person flying through the air, thrown by their Boss. “We discovered that the van got hi-jacked, the body taken, the driver dead in the middle of the road, and Rose is nowhere to be seen. We need to find her now, or else I’m going to start taking everyone down until I find her.”
“Sir, we found her on the security camera,” one of the goons that was in charge of security said, zooming the camera up to the image of a girl with long black hair, limping up to the entrance of the building. Charles took one glimpse of the security screen, then strode hastily out of the room, quickly yelling “Carry on,” over his shoulder as he left.

Rose had to feel and look like shit in order for suspicion not to be aroused. She knew that if anyone felt suspicious, that they would monitor her movements with the precision of a hawk.
Well, she thought to herself as she continued to limp towards the main entrance, I guess twisting my ankle on the way here’ll defiantly make the act more convincing. She had just made it past the main doors when her uncle turned the corner and walked briskly in her direction, his face looking like he was ready to kill. Oh shit, I’m in for it now.
“Boss,” she started to say, but had the breath jerked right out of her when Charles grabbed her wrist, and started pulling her roughly down the halls, forcing her to jog on her bad ankle. This continued until the two of them were in Rose’s Living quarters, her uncle blocking the door, keeping her trapped in the relatively small room, “Boss, I can explain.”
“It’s okay,” Charles replied, letting his breath finally come out, “You don’t have to call me that in here, remember?”
“Right, sorry, force of habit.” Rose replied, remembering that her room was one of the few places that didn’t have any security cameras. “Just so use to calling you that from work.”
“Here, take a seat,” Charles said as he helped her walk over to one of the cushioned dining room chairs, “You look like you got hurt.”
“Not really, I just twisted my ankle,” she replied as she plopped down into the chair, the cushion making a small whoosh sound as the air left its confinement. “Though it hurt like hell on the walk back.”
“What happened to you?” he asked, pulling up a chair of his own, “We came to inspect the area around the van, but we didn’t find you or the body.”
“We…” Rose started, trying to make it sound like she was trying to remember something important, “We got ambushed by these weird guys that were wearing masks, they killed the driver, knocked me out and took the body. When I woke back up, I was tied up a few miles from the road. After wiggling myself free I walked back because someone took the van.”
“That doesn’t explain the ankle,” Charles said, looking down at her foot.
“I tripped on the walk back and twisted it,” she answered simply, “though I think resting it a little really helped.”
“Well, we better not risk it,” Charles replied as he got up, moving his chair so that he could have Rose’s ankle elevated. “I’ll send someone by later with some ice for your ankle. Keep it rested and then you can help me after breakfast.”
“Alright, thanks Uncle Charles,” Rose said as she lifted up her leg, resting it on the cushion of the chair. Even though he might act like a major pain in the ass, he’s actually an all-around nice guy.
“It’s no problem,” he replied as he started to leave. “Just don’t walk too much on that ankle, and it should be fine in the morning.” And with those words, Boss opened up the door and was gone.

It was around ten when a BL/I goon came walking in, carrying a small bag of ice. It was eight when she got back to the HQ, and in that time Rose had changed into her baggy, white Better Living Industries t-shirt and gray sweatpants, hopped over to the bed, and was reading one of the short stories in “The Year of the Vampire.”
“Here,” the goon said as he walked over to the bed, holding the bag of ice like there was a goldfish in it, “I brought you your ice.”
“Thanks,” Rose said back, not even looking up from her book, “Just put it on the bed.” The goon did as he was told and set the ice near her leg on the bed, but instead of bowing and leaving the room, he just stood and stared at her. This continued unnoticed for about a minute, then Rose finally noticed that there was still someone else in the room, and looked up from her book.
“I don’t understand,” the goon said, tilting his head a little to the right, “How did he choose you?”
“Choose me for what?” Rose asked, closing her book, but keeping her thumb in the page she was on.
“You possess no special talents. You’re weak, both physically and mentally, and you can never harm any person, dead or alive,” the goon said, taking his white monster mask off to reveal his face, which was slightly chubby. He had short black hair that stuck out in tufts from the mask, and his eyes were blood-red, “So why is it that our boss decided to single you out for special treatment?”
“How should I know,” Rose replied, finally setting her book down onto the floor. “He just did for some reason, and I’m not one to pry into someone’s personal life.” There was a look of slight fury on the man’s face as he glared at the girl sitting on the bed in front of him. Still holding his stare, he took a large step and, in one fluid motion, had Rose pinned on the bed.
“Listen here, you little weakling,” the man growled through his teeth. “I don’t care how special you are to him, cause either way you’ll find this out. Everyone secretly hates your guts because of your lack of work, while we work our asses off and don’t get so much as a whoop-de-doo. You get so much as a paper cut, and we have to drop everything so that we can wait on you, hand and foot. Just do the world a favor and actually do some more work and suck it up when you get injured, you whiney little weakling.” Rose just laid there, her face emotionless, not even moving a muscle. This stillness stayed for a moment before she reacted.
“I understand,” Rose said calmly, her violet eyes boring a hole into the man’s forehead, “I have been a little lazy, and have shoved my work off to you and your co-workers. I will take what you have said to heart,” her stare then widened, and the goon suddenly felt like his heart was flowing away, coursing through his body with his blood. There soon came a sharp pain where the feeling of his flowing heart was, and in no time, he was on his knees, clutching his chest.
“However,” Rose continued, sitting back up and rising to her feet, “The way you said it threatened me, and people who threaten me don’t deserve a second chance.”
“Wha-,” the man gasped as he felt his lungs fading away, no longer allowing him to breath.
“Farewell, the world will be a better place without you,” And in under a minute, the man was gone, only a pile of dust and a BL/I ID card. Being careful not to step in the dust, she picked up the ID card, taking the thin piece of plastic out of the protective sleeve, “Dylan Snouzer,” she read off the card, “You’re better off this way. At least now you won’t have to face what’s soon to come.” Being careful, she found a small pile of junk paper and used them to sweep up the pile of dust, sticking the card haphazardly into her book. After a moment of sweeping with the papers, she dumped the pile of dust into the steel silver waste basket, carefully covering the dirt over with the papers so as not to arouse suspicion of her uncle. Once she made everything look normal, she put the book away and went to bed, the ID card still freely shoved into the book.