The Oncoming Storm – Mega Short Prologue
Pairing(s): Jet Star/Kobra Kid, aka Ray/Mikey (Rikey)
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Warnings: Language and mild violence
Notes: Right, here are the facts for y'all - this is a fanfic I started to write back in the latter half of March. So far, there are six chapters - the seventh is being written right now - and a prologue, all of which I'm uploading today.
For now, this fic will be rated T, but that's certain to change. I'm removing all author's notes after this one so you don't have to read my ramblings. This fic can also be read on Livejournal and Tumblr, as can all of my others. If you are actually reading this, I hope you enjoy it! c:
September, 2019. Mikey Way, a resident of Battery City, had hit the all important age of 21. The age where the boys were separated from the men; the age where kids were finally given freedom.
In a city that was supposedly 'perfect' under the 'watchful' eye of Better Living Industries, the transition into adulthood was vital. You either spread your wings and flew the nest to a better place in society, or took off only to come crashing back down to the slums – a fate worse than death.
It was all bullshit. Mikey wanted out.
He'd always been one of the few who could see through BLIND's force-fed lies and brainwashing. One of the few rebels in District 7 that stayed up late, that played his music loud and proud. His most valued possession was his battered old bass that he would often play into the early hours of the morning, until his calloused fingers ached and his mind went completely calm and numb. Music was escape from the troubles of an oppressed society, an escape he valued dearly.
Now he was old enough, he was taking his bass and getting the fuck out of this city. No longer would he stand to live in this hellhole; this den of unnatural selection, liars and thieves. Instead of taking a leap of faith into the inevitable monotony of ordinary life, he was gonna take an entirely different path.
Mikey was heading out into the wider world. Into the Zones of the New Californian desert.
He'd heard about the Zones. Heard they were dangerous places, full of outlaws and rogues – Killjoys. The more the Reverends degraded and insulted them, the more Mikey grew to respect them. As a teenager, he wanted nothing more than to BE a Killjoy. He wanted to be the stuff of legends, an enemy of Better Living Industries that could never be forgotten. A hero to the kids – 'Drac-slayer Extraordinaire'.
It was crazy, it was far-fetched. He knew that, but he just didn't give a fuck. Now was his chance to soar above the scum and make his mark... he just had to follow his dreams.
Grabbing a well-worn rucksack and packing it with the bare necessities for survival, Mikey crept past his parents' makeshift floor-beds and out of the front door. He gave his guardians a final glance before he stepped outside. Leaving them behind without so much as a goodbye was bittersweet: whilst it saved him the awkwardness and interrogation, it left him with a burning guilt. These were the pair who'd tried their best to support them in this shithole District, and he hadn't even thanked them for their valiant effort.
It was too late to turn back now, though.
The night air was pleasantly cool on Mikey's face, a contrast to the usual sweltering heat of the day. Slowly and almost silently, he worked his way through the maze of streets – he was in no hurry, the night was young and he didn't want to be caught by any stray patrols. Minutes spent navigating soon turned to hours, until he finally reached the lowest, least protected area of Battery City's great outer wall.
Show time.
Mikey clambered awkwardly over the ruined segment, freezing upon any sudden noise. It was well past midnight by the time he had safely crossed into the unknown.
Freedom had never tasted sweeter.
Adjusting the rucksack on his back, Mikey Way stepped out into the Zones to face his future.