A/N: Hey guys! This is my first ever fanfic and I'm super excited about it! There's definitely going to be more chapters to come. Please read and review.
Disclaimer: I don't own the killjoys or anything MCR related. Just my original characters White Noise and Rebel Moon so far.
Party Poison sat on the hood of the car, staring out into the wide open desert. It was somewhere around 2 am he figured. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he muttered curses to himself. He had to find a way to get in touch with Dr. Death Defying and get the hell out of this wasteland.
A burst of laughter erupted behind him. He stood on the hood of the car and turned to see his three friends lounging around the campfire.
Jet was leaning against a large rock telling a story to the group, while Kobra sat cleaning his gun with a silent, half-amused smirk on his face. Fun Ghoul, who was in an intense fit of giggles, clutched at his stomach with one hand while lifting a bottle of beer to his lips with the other.
Party let out a huff as he leaped off the hood of the car, "Well, I'm glad you all can have such a fantastic time in this situation."
Jet clamped his mouth shut and lowered his eyes.
"Come on, Gerard!" Fun Ghoul practically shouted. He always got rather loud when he drank. "Why don't you chill out and have some fun with the rest of us for once?"
"Because, in case you hadn't noticed, we're stranded in the middle of the fucking desert!" Poison took a long drag from his cigarette to calm his nerves, "And don't use my real name out here. You never know who's listening."
"I'm just sayin" The shorter man slurred, "It's not everyday we get ahold of something like this." He gestured to the two large crates of beer.
"We're stuck here. With no shelter, no extra food and water, a broken car, and a broken radio. We could be attacked by dracs at any moment, and our guns aren't going to stay charged forever." He threw down his cigarette and crushed it under the toe of his boot. "Still worth it, Ghoul?"
He nodded toward the alcohol, which Ghoul had literally gotten on his knees and begged for at their last raid.
"Fuck yeahhhh!" Ghoul exclaimed, revealing a flask of whiskey. "I couldn't think of a better way to be stranded in the desert."
He grinned as he turned up the flask and took a long swig.
"Look, Party..." Jet started, setting down his bottle of Budweiser. "I think Fun Ghoul might be right in a way. You need to relax, because stress isn't going to fix the situation."
Party Poison rolled his eyes and began to pace back and forth.
"I'm sure Dr. D and Show Pony will be out looking for us as soon as the sun comes up." Jet Star continued, "They know what route we're on, so it'll only be a matter of time before they find us."
He looked at Kobra Kid and received a brief nod of confirmation.
Poison fidgeted with his hands for a few moments before lighting up another cigarette. "We don't have time and you know that. Every damn second we're out here we're at risk of attack. We have something that they want, and I assure you they are on the hunt."
Ghoul stumbled to his feet and lazily draped an arm around Party's shoulder. "Dude, Imma tell you one last time... You needa get LOOSE!" He shoved the flask in front of his friend's face.
Party Poison glared at him, and pushed the whiskey away, "You know I don't drink." He stated and stomped back to the hood of the car
The sky was turning pink as the sun rose over the dusty horizon. The red-headed killjoy still sat perched on top of the car.
He hadn't slept. His brain was too busy preparing for the worst of circumstances.
He had been fiddling with the radio, trying to get it to pick up some sort of signal. Or atleast turn on.
He turned around, observing his friends passed out around the charred remnants of their campfire. He hoped that they didn't have any trouble for a while; hangovers were useless on the battlefront.
Just then he heard the sound of a motor approaching. Shit. He thought as he jumped to the ground and yelled for the unconscious boys to wake up. This was not good. Not good at all.
As the three Killjoys slowly picked themselves up off the ground, Poison turned to gaze down the road. He shielded his eyes with his hand and saw what appeared to be a motorcycle heading in their direction.
He watched warily for any additional vehicles to follow. When no more appeared, he let out a relieved breath. Whatever this was, they would be able to handle it.
"There's a motorcycle coming this way." He stated, pivoting back toward his team.
All three stood side by side with disheveled hair, sloppy clothes, and extremely pissed off expressions.
"One motorcycle?" Ghoul asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "Call the fucking S.W.A.T. team!"
Kobra kid rolled his eyes, "You got some shit on your face."
Ghoul quickly wiped the back of his sleeve across his mouth, then frowned, "That's drool."
"Let me see that." Jet sighed. He licked his thumb and rubbed it on the corner of Fun Ghoul's mouth, as a mother does to a small child.
"Guys!" Party interrupted and they all returned their attention back to their leader, "Just be ready for whatever might happen. We always have to be prepared."
Just then, the motorcycle whizzed past the Killjoys.
"See." Ghoul whined, "You woke us up for nothing!"
Before Poison could respond, Jet shot an arm out and pointed after the cycle. "Uhhh Guys, it's coming back!"
They all whirled around to see the vehicle whip back in their direction. As it got closer, the Killjoys realized it was headed straight for them and the Trans AM. Three of them quickly scattered to get out of the way, but Ghoul threw himself onto the back of the car.
"NOOOOOO!" He cried, squeezing his eyes shut. "Not my baby!"
His friends gasped in horror as the motorcycle barreled straight toward him. However, it suddenly slammed on brakes and skidded to a halt just inches from the car and Fun Ghoul, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Trembling, Ghoul opened his eyes to see two figures getting off of the bike. They were both obviously female.
One wore combat boots, black fishnet tights, short black shorts with a large, bright purple belt, and a bright purple bomber jacket over a white tank top with the words "Make Some Noise" scrawled in black and cropped to show her midriff which was nearly as white. Her belly-button ring glinted in the sunlight.
The other was several inches taller. She wore black jeans with slashes that ran down the front. Her Black flat-soled boots laced all the way up her calves, and her hands were covered with black fingerless gloves. Her lime green fitted tee was split at the neck, revealing an appealing amount of cleavage. Several dog tags hung around her neck and a half-sleeve of tattoos crept down her right arm.
Both wore helmets covered in hundreds of different stickers and logos, and had holsters slung around their waists.
Ghoul gawked at each girl's physique, and he hadn't even seen their faces yet.
Party Poison stepped forward, a stern look on his face, "Who are you?"
Slowly, the shorter one in the purple jacket removed her helmet to reveal a very pale heart-shaped face. Her grey eyes were heavily darkened with eyeliner and black eye shadow that contrasted sharply with her fair skin. Her hair was long and straight with a fringe of bangs that brushed the tops of her long eyelashes. Her most shocking feature was that her hair was stark white, giving her an almost ghostly appearance.
"They call me White Noise." She introduced herself, extending a tiny hand out to the Red-Head.
Then the second girl, who had been the driver of the motorcycle, lifted her helmet in one swift motion. She shook out her wavy black locks and evaluated the killjoys with critical amber eyes. She pursed her ruby red lips before finally letting them spread into a half-smile. She had a small ring in her nose.
"And I'm Rebel Moon." She stated, crossing her arms instead of offering her hand.
"What are the two of you doing out here in the middle of Zone 6?" Party asked suspiciously.
"Well I could ask you the same question, couldn't I?" Rebel Moon retorted.
Jet Star moved closer, "Are you killjoys?"
White Noise nodded, "We're originally from Zone 8, but we had a little trouble back home..." She trailed off.
"Was there an attack?" Jet asked nervously, "Dracs usually don't lurk around so far out."
She opened her mouth to answer but the tall girl cut her off, "You don't have to tell them anything, Noise. We don't know them, and we certainly don't owe them our life stories."
"Look," Poison stared at her with uncaring eyes, "If you wanna be a bitch, then you can hop back on your bike and take off. You came here and almost crashed into our car-"
"And me!" Ghoul piped up.
"Well that was your own stupid fault." Party muttered, then continued. "If you plan on barging up into our camp like that, then you better be ready to answer some damn questions."
"Honey, we're just a part of good old 'Generation Nothing' like all of you." Rebel said simply.