My bloodied, stinging hands groped for the gun I thought I had at my belt. The last of the drywall crumbled down around me and I let out a cough as dust flew into my throat. I shakily stood up and glanced down at my belt. My blood, despite the nervous adrenaline, turned to ice.
"Where the heck is my ray gun?" I rasped. I looked around wildly through the rubble of yet another makeshift B.L.I. headquarters, placed awkwardly out in the desert.
"C'mon, where is it?" I shoved past a dead Drac and saw it pinned under him. I yanked it out and was crestfallen, seeing the state it was in. The barrel was smashed, the metal twisted and broken. There's no way I could use it now! I was shaking with nerves as I made my way through the mess and ran off. I could still smell the smoke from the bomb I set off minutes before. Each and every one of the Dracs were dead with that explosion. I was proud of it, to be honest. Never was I able to do that much damage to so many Dracs. My hands were shredded when the explosion burst a window, sending shards of glass into them. I grimaced as I yanked out more glass from both my ungloved hands. Pressing them against my shirt did little to staunch the flow of blood. Besides my hands, I was relatively unscathed.
"You got lucky this time," I muttered, still running from the scene. The motorcycle I had for a few weeks was stolen a couple days ago. Now I had no choice but to get everywhere on foot. With my ray gun at my side, I wasn't scared of running into anyone. But seeing how useless it is now...
I didn't have anywhere to go to. I had no home or shelter to seek refuge in. Normally Killjoys do, but not me. I haven't run into any for the months I've been out here, or I'm sure one of them would offer me a place to stay. I hope, at least.
I stopped abruptly as I heard something. Dusk was falling and I can't rely on my sight for much longer. Instinctively I raised my gun to eye level. But I bit back a sigh when I remembered what happened to it. There was no use in keeping it but I dare not throw it away yet.
When I froze it froze too. Heart pounding, I curled my throbbing hands into fists and whirled around. I cursed myself when I realized it was just a lone bird flitting from one sparse bush to another.
There's nothing to be scared about. You just killed all the Dracs in a hundred mile radius. Now you better find a place to camp for the night.
Examining my stinging palms, I saw just how deep the cuts were. I've been running for a good ten minutes but the bleeding hasn't stopped. They ran pretty deep and the pain bothered me. I could take pain, sure, but I don't know how long I could keep this stoic act up. If they got infected, I was done for sure. I'd be dying from the inside out. No matter how tough I'd gotten from months I've been living on my own, I never enjoy pain. I can only take so much. And not to mention that I was constantly on the run, constantly in danger. I had a goal in mind: to kill all the Dracs I could. I mean, not like that's the mission of every other Killjoy in the world, but I was flying solo on this one. Teams aren't really my thing. It's just too much pressure to put on me. Well, I never really worked in a group before, but if there's one thing I hate most besides the B.L.I is change. I feel like if I was in a band of misfit Killjoys, I just wouldn't get along with anyone. I have my opinions and I express them, a bit harsher than I can mean at points. And besides, I know this'll sound selfish, but I couldn't imagine myself risking my life for another person. It's dog eat dog world out here. I don't know how groups work that well and I'm not too keen on finding out. I have my own mission to complete. I can't be distracted by other people.
By this time, the sun was completely down and I could barely see a thing. I stopped and looked all around until I found a decent sized rocky outcropping.
"Good enough," I whispered. I crawled under it, making sure it was clear of snakes. Just in case of an attack, (you can never be too careful) I went to grab a tough looking branch that fell off from a large bush.
But as my cut palms came in contact with the bark, sharp bolts of pain coursed through them. I let go of it so suddenly, like I placed my hand on a hot stove for a full five seconds. I remember what an oven was... vaguely. We had one in my home back in Battery City. Even though I hadn't run all too long ago, maybe two months or so, it felt like years. I'm so glad I'm gone.
My stomach twisted nervously. If I did happen to run into an enemy any time soon, they could definitely take me down. My hands were scarred so bad I couldn't hold anything. My ray gun was shot. Even if it was functioning, I doubted for a second I could keep it in my hands.
I hesitated for a second when I went to take off my mask. It was completely black with dark blue hues in it you could still pick out. Simple, nothing totally fancy. It covered a bit more than a quarter of my face. It was my only way of hiding my identity out here. Without my mask, the B.L.I would recognize me. And we all know how messy that would become. We don't have real names out in the desert. To be honest, I don't think I remember my birth name. But I do know my Killjoy name-Lost Matrix. I'm a bit proud of it; I named myself. It's not too bad if I do say so myself.
My thoughts were interrupted suddenly when I let out a yawn. I yanked the sleeves of my worn leather jacket down and laced up my boots once more. In the morning I'd have to get up early to scrounge for food. Just as I curled up, I put my mask back on. I don't know why, but I felt like any of the B.L.I that was left in that explosion would come looking for me. Even though I knew that wasn't possible; they all died. Brushing away the uneasy feeling, I drew my knees into my chest and leaned back against the rocky wall, drifting into a fitful sleep.
"Hey, hey. What are you doing?" Jack reached out to tap my shoulder
"I'm trying to do something here, Jack." I slapped his hand away and stared at the book, drinking in every word.
"C'mon, Cylus! Just walk away! That's all you have to do!" I yelled. Just then Jack snatched the book away from my hands.
"Hey!" I exclaimed. "I was reading that!" My older brother snickered and ran off. "Jack! Come back here!" I took off, running after him. Oh, he's gonna get it. No matter how much I loved him, when Jack does things like this it gets me totally pissed.
Just as I reached out to grab the book back, he stopped suddenly. I crashed into him and fell onto the ground. I looked up and saw him standing rigid, a person dressed in a white suit you would wear to a radioactive plant towering over him. Jack shrank back as the person lunged forward and grabbed him by the throat. I leaped to my feet to scream out, but nothing came. There was nothing I could do as I watched him drag my only brother, the one I could tell anything to, the one I could joke around with, the one that loved me unconditionally, away into the shadows. My gut twisted with agony as I heard those all too familiar blood curdling screams. Jack was thrown back into view, his body slashed to ribbons and his face beaten senseless. My brother was dead. And it was all the B.L.I's fault.
"No!" I yelled, bolting upright, fists clenched at my sides. My heart was pumping twice its normal speed as I came back to reality. The horror of the dream was slowly fading. When it was gone, I flopped back against the wall, exasperated.
"It's always that same dream. Always the one about Jack being killed by Better Living..." I whispered under my breath.
Jack was my only and older brother back in Battery City. I loved him so much, and one day we heard a knock at the door. He opened it up and saw the one of the B.L.I standing there. Before any of us could utter a hello, the person lashed out and grabbed him, literally dragging him out of the house. I screamed and ran after them, doing everything I could to save Jack. But I was shoved back just as Jack was thrown into their van. He was pounding on the door, completely terrified as they sped off. Stunned, I stood there for a very long time. I couldn't move a muscle as I replayed everything that happened in the last thirty seconds over and over again. I hadn't moved when the van came tearing back hours later, throwing Jack out at me. For a second my heart soared. Then it came crashing down when I saw what state he was in. Jack was beaten and ripped to pieces, like someone sent a rabid bear on him. I sunk to my knees right there, just staring. Jack was gone, I could see that by just looking. My brother's face was completely white, bled out. He bled to death. The B.L.I killed him.
Traumatized, I got up and walked to other way. Just like that I turned around and walked in the opposite direction of my dead brother. No tears came. No hate. No sadness. No pain. Just nothing. It was like every nerve in my body was numbed.I didn't feel anything until I walked miles away from home. Jack was dead, so there was no point in living there anymore. And I just left him out there on the pavement. Jack was killed, and I never knew the reason why. All I knew was that I had to get back at the B.L.I somehow. So I ran away, out into the desert. I had heard about Killjoys before, but never knew who or what they were. Getting information from different people, I knew that I wanted to be a Killjoy, to seek revenge on the people that murdered my brother for absolutely no reason. Lost Matrix was my name, now and forever.
I swallowed and shoved hair out of my eyes angrily. There's no use in thinking about this any longer, I thought. Shifting my mask into place again, I fell back into sleep. But I was not prepared for the event that would change my life when I was woken up by boots crunching towards me.