Title: Dustups and Sundowns
Author: Deirdre
Band/Pairing: Gen or slightly implied frerard; My Chemical Romance
Rating: PG13. a few bad words, minor character death, implied sexiness
Disclaimer: Fake,okay. Don't own these fellows but OemGEE if I did.
Summary:Fun Ghoul gets into trouble in the middle of the desert and its his favorite Killjoys to the rescue.

I am prepared.

Its not like I didn't have a good run.

Everyone knows life in the desert is hard and short.

What's the saying? Crash and burn, young and loaded.

Check and Check. Fucking shiny.

As three Dracs move in to surround me, I lift my own ray-gun to my head and catch sight of the word "horror" I'd painted down the lyrics from the forgotten song that inspired it flash though my mind-a drink for the horror that I'm in. Accurate lyric is accurate, I think wildly.

I am ready to pull the trigger, knowing the fate that awaits me if I don't. It is well known BLl doesn't ghost Killjoys. They love to brainwash us, pump us full of pills and turn us into model citizens for Battery City. The most high profile of us become members of Battery City's law enforcement, Draculoids or if you're really special, Scarecrows. Korse, the Chief Exterminator, loves knowing he's leading an army of "reformed" Killjoys to kill and capture their friends and confidants.

Fuck that noise, I'd rather die.

Just before I pull the trigger, the Drac directly in front of me clutches his stomach and falls forward- a small smoking hole in his back the cause.

Like a domino effect, the other Dracs fall one after another sending up clouds of dust that burn my eyes and throat. As the dust cleared I see the three men responsible for taking care of my attackers.

The one with neon red hair red approaches me, close and personal, laying a light touch to my wrist, pushing the gun away from my temple.

"Now we don't want to go and do that, Sugar" he whispers. "Not with such a pretty face," he smirks.

I look up into his eyes and can't help returning the smile.

"Who you calling pretty? Everyone knows ain't nobody in the Zones prettier than you, Poison," I compliment in lieu of a real thanks, knowing this means more to him anyway. It wasn't the first time him and his gang saved my ass.

In a flourish of hips and hair, I earn a genuine smile from the Fabulous Killjoy.

"And don't you forget it, you fucking ghoul," Party Poison says as he turns, heading back toward the Trans Am I know I didn't hear pull up.

"Silent engine," Jet Star offers, reading the question on my face. I look to Kobra Kid knowing he is the mastermind behind it. He shrugs and turns to join Poison at the car.

Typical KK. The dudes a genius.

"Sun's setting soon, you'll be all right camping tonight," Jet Star said, eying my busted bike a few feet away from the cars bumper. It breaking down was the reason I got cornered by a patrol of Dracs in the first place.

"Yea Jet, don't worry about me. Thanks again, man," Knowing a compliment on his lustrous locks would just confuse him.

"All right man, keep running," he says giving the typical goodbye of the Zones and going to join the rest of his gang in the car.

I watch them drive away then loot the bodies of the Dracs for anything useful. I stuffed the batteries I find in my pack and kick my piece of crap bike for good measure.

Headed the opposite way from where the Killjoys went, I decide to walk a little more. I still had about an hour till sundown and the closer I was to my gangs home base the better.

Being more aware after my run in with the Dracs, I notice a car coming from the same direction as me immediately. I can barely hear the motor so I know who it is and relax. Poison slowed the car down beside me, all wind blown hair and bravado as he drawls, "I hear you could use a ride, Motorbaby."

Knowing Poison, that's a double entendre.

But I get in the car just the same.