A/N: Well hello, my fellow Killjoys! A little ditty about this story before we get started. Yes, this is based off of My Chemical Romance's brand new (and totally awesome) album Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. I was so inspired by this that I've started to work on my own original novel, based off the ideas that My Chem has played with in post apocalyptic America, mind-controlling corporations, and rayguns. Seriously, I have like eight main characters I made up because of this. But when starting to write said novel, I hit a wall due to writer's block.
But seeing so many stories, I figured I wanted to add my own spin to the Killjoy-verse, and get this stupid writer's monkey off my back. Seriously, he's been throwing coconuts and bananas at me, and it's getting annoying. So here's my shot. Hope you like it, review it, and all that. And that's why it's a crossover (at least in my mind).
And now, everyone's favorite part...Disclaimer: All the characters, places, etc., etc. belongs properly to My Chemical Romance and their creative genius minds. And I mean everything that comes from the music videos, Twitter feeds, and stuff like that. However, any original characters are mine, and I rightfully ask that you don't use them without my permission. Or I will find you and hunt you down with my raygun.
Whew, that was long-winded. Well, let's get on with it!
Chapter 1: Look Alive, Sunshine
The last 24 hours hadn't gone well for the Fabulous Killjoys, Fun Ghoul in particular. A raid on a BL/Ind supply house had left them with a variety of injuries. And no supplies. Then, they ended up with a flat on Route Guano somewhere between Zones 3 and 4, only to find out that they had no spare. It took a few hours and a heated argument between Party Poison and Jet Star before they decided to call for help. At least Show Pony was on his way out.
Unfortunately he wouldn't be there until the morning.
So that's how Fun Ghoul ended up sitting on the hood of their beloved rusty Trans Am, watching the embers of their slowly dying fire flicker before the dawning sun. It wasn't that he didn't mind having to stand watch while they were sitting targets for any night-patrolling S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit while everyone else got to catch a few hours of sleep. He poked at the charred hole in his pants, hissing in pain as the material rubbed against the wound on his shin.
"Damn Dracs," he muttered to himself as the pain subsided. He fingered the green-painted gun lying close to his right hand, making sure it was still there. It had become a quick habit to know where your weapon was at all times, especially since patrols of Draculoids had grown in number in the last few months.
He sighed once again, running his hand through his messy black hair. It fell back into place over his face, much to his disgust. This situation needed something to make him feel better.
He began to pat his pockets, looking for the nicotine rush that was going to get him through the rest of night watch. They weren't in his pants or his vest.
"Damn, where are they?" he cursed, trying to shift himself to look around without jarring his injured leg. There wasn't much to see on the hood in the pre-dawn glow, besides his laser blaster and his crumpled up Frankenstein monster mask. He threw his arms up in frustration after the fruitless search.
Sighing in disgust, he gently eased himself off the hood of the Trans, holstering his gun and throwing his mask on top of his head. Careful not to put much weight on his injured leg, he attempted a sort of half-jog, half-limp to the back door without much pain. He fumbled with the car keys, cursing silently as they fell to the desert ground, before eventually finding the right one to open the door.
He could feel his nerves beginning to fray, craving the nicotine rush that was going to take his mind off of everything, that he didn't notice that the lock never clicked to signal it unlocked. His brown eyes scanned over the messy back seat, roaming over the giant blue mascot-like head of MouseKat (which Party Poison had adamantly kept, even though his yellow domino mask suited him just fine), a crumpled up map of the Zones, some empty cans of Power Pup and a mass of blankets on the back seat. Ghoul began to dig around, looking underneath the mascot head, moving the map and discarded cans without much luck in finding his menthol addiction.
"I know they're here somewhere," he muttered, letting his hand rest on the mass of blankets. He roamed the floor of the backseat again, but something now caught his eye.
And it wasn't his cigarettes.
Lying underneath a worn-out blanket on the back bench seat was a pair of scuffed and worn black leather boots with buckles and straps running up the sides, with a pair of grey denim-clad legs attached. Ghoul let his gaze run up over the blanket, where a shock of pink, purple and blue peeked from underneath on the other side of the car. Careful as to not awake the intruder, Ghoul removed the blanket in one swoop, letting it ball up on the seat.
Revealed was the body of a teenage girl. Her bare arms were covered in nasty burn marks, most likely from a multitude of laser shots. Her ripped top hung loosely over her frail frame, the yellow color faded and covered in desert dust. Her jeans were full of holes and burns, hiding what were likely more injuries. He studied her face, noticing how gaunt it was from lack of nourishment. Longer strands of vibrantly-colored hair dyed blue, pink and purple framed her dirty face as she slept on top of a balled-up black and yellow leather jacket.
A sharp intake of breath went through Ghoul as he noticed what was lying next to the girl as she slept. There was no mistaking the two cylindrical tubes attached at her belt running down her left leg, especially when he noticed the hilts near the top. But what concerned him the most was what was clutched in her left hand. The unmistaken appearance of a laser blaster, painted bright yellow, caused Ghoul to complete a 180 before running away from the car.
"Party! Kobra! Jet!" Ghoul shouted, running over to his sleeping comrades. Not seeing any movement due to his shouting, he kicked the nearest body, only to cause more pain in his shot shin. He cursed silently again as he bounced around on one foot.
"What the actual fuck?" Ghoul heard the mumbling voice of Party Poison through his little temper-tantrum. Ghoul could see Party's fiery red hair rise off the ground as he looked up, confused. "What's going on?"
"There's something…something…" Ghoul pointed furiously at the Trans Am, unable to formulate a complete sentence in his panic.
"Saw a ghoul, Ghoul?" Jet laughed, shaking Kobra awake.
"Seriously, there's something in the car!" The three now-awake Killjoys looked each other as Ghoul ran back in an awkward jog.
"I think that injury affected more than his leg," Kobra muttered, grabbing his motorcycle helmet as they followed Ghoul to the car. Jet laughed again as Party punched his younger brother in the arm.
"I hope this is important to wake us all up," Jet yawned. "If it isn't a bunch of Dracs, I'm going to have to shoot him."
Party nodded, trying to hide a yawn himself. There was no way he could handle anything without some coffee or some kind of caffeine stimulant running through his veins at this God-awful hour.
"So what is, Ghoul? What's the emergency?"
Ghoul just pointed into the open door of the car, still unable to form a cohesive sentence to explain the situation. Shrugging, the three remaining looked inside.
"There's nothing in there," Party replied, scratching his head.
"What?" Ghoul turned around to see the bench seat empty, the blanket still balled up where he threw it earlier. "I swear, there was a girl in here earlier."
"A girl?" Kobra's eyes widened. No one could tell behind his aviators, which looked out of place before the sun was up. "Well, that's a first. Sure the methane isn't affecting your brain?"
"But I'm serious! There was a girl in there." Ghoul looked around, throwing things out of the backseat as if she was hiding underneath something so small.
"Does this mean I can shoot him now?" Jet Star asked, annoyed, preparing to grab his blaster from his holster.
"No one's going to shoot anybody," an unfamiliar female voice responded behind the four Killjoys. They turned, to see a teenage girl standing near the trunk of the car, a blaster of her own aimed directly at them.
"Told you," Ghoul muttered.
A/N: Please review! I'm the kind of sucker who needs to know people like what they read! So please make me happy! REVIEW!