Chapter Two: The Sharpest Lives

Rasta Blasta, alive.

He was alive!

Desi couldn't believe her eyes. The man she'd thought dead, when she couldn't silence her fears, was alive. She had spent the last nineteen days grieving for him, the only Killjoy to truly have her heart, and he was right there, alive and breathing. Rasta was conscious, safe, and definitely not a Draculoid. Desi was frozen with shock. Her mind was screaming. Go to him, stupid! Jump into his arms and kiss him like a woman who thought she'd never see her man again alive. He's your soul mate. Killjoys didn't doubt their hearts as much as people had back before BL/ind. Life was too short to break hearts, and to doubt was to spend useless seconds not living life to the fullest.

But no matter what her head was screaming, her eyes were telling her something else. His eyes were shadowed, and doubtful. It almost seemed like she was coming back from the dead to him, too. Only he was in even more disbelief than she was.

"Dizzy?" Rasta asked. He seemed worried, like if he dared touch her, she'd turn out to be a ghost. The look in his eyes told her too much. Rasta had been haunted by as many nightmares as Desi had, and they were probably more than flashbacks. He'd told her once, that before he started spending his nights under the sky with her, that he'd woken up every night, shaking from nightmares.

Desi swallowed. It was suddenly like the desert itself had crawled into her throat. "Ra-" she paused, licking her dried out lips. "Rasta?"

The change in him wasn't absolute, and it wasn't obvious. He didn't break out into his usual infectious grin, but the weight hanging his shoulders was suddenly lifted, and some of the shadows fled his eyes, to be replaced by a bittersweet happiness that spoke of his grief and his love all at once. His arms reached out, and finally, Desi's body became unglued. She dashed into his arms, and he pulled the cliché move she'd seen once with him on an old DVD when they'd shared the abandoned motel. He wrapped his arms around her and spun her around.

He kissed her, just once on the lips, and that was all he had to say.

"I'd thought you'd died, Ros. I wouldn't let myself believe it, but I was almost sure you were dead." Desi whispered fiercely into Rasta's ear as she held him tight.

Rasta gently pulled her away to look into her ocean blue eyes. "You know that even being called to march in the black parade could not have stopped me from coming back to say goodbye, at the very least." He said it with such conviction; no one could have denied that he meant every word.

Desi slowly slid down Rasta's body to place her feet on the dusty desert ground. "You'd be ashamed of who I've been the past few days. I was losing hope in everything. I almost forgot what it means to be a Killjoy..." She trailed off, and buried her face in his shirt, fighting tears.

A hand gently brushed her hair. "I could never be ashamed of you, Dizzy," Rasta said. "Even if I was gone, you would have snapped out of it and given BL/ind everything you had. Three cheers for sweet revenge, even though seeing you alive is even better than I could have hoped for. I was just as unsure about you, as you were about me, Desi." Rasta laid his head on hers, and they simply stood there together, glad to know they were safe, alive, and together.

A tap on Desi's shoulder ended the quiet moment. "I don't want to interrupt you," Candy whispered. "But, my sister wanted to see you, and all the Killjoys are anxious to go meet up with the Fabulous Killjoys."

Desi peeled herself away from Rasta to face Candy, only to have him grab her hand, threading his fingers between hers. "Well, it seems this man is unlikely to let me out of his sight anytime soon, so she'll have to see us both." Candy smiled.

"No biggie, and besides, I think everyone will give it some slack, since those poor eyes don't look so hollow anymore. We might have the real Desi back." She spun on her heel and called over her shoulder as she walked away. "Alright, you two. This way."

Desi and Rasta followed Candy around the crowd and behind the large RV that she had earlier thought was a van. The thing was huge. Twelve feet tall and fifteen feet long, it could easily carry a good fifteen Killjoys. Fitting the crowd surrounding the RV inside would be a bit of a squeeze, but it was possible.

"That monster must get horrible miles for all the petrol it would need," Rasta chimed in.

Candy talked over her shoulder as she replied, "It's electric, actually. BL/ind used to use it for transporting unconscious Killjoys to a Drac brainwashing site. Until we stole it, and a load of about twenty Killjoys, almost all of which stuck with our gang once they woke up. It needs recharged pretty often, but BL/ind won't send workers out into the Zones to kill the power grids. Too much risk, or something like that.

"Well, here we are," Candy said as she led us around the back end of the RV, to reveal a battered green 1968 Mustang. Growing up BL/ind, Desi didn't know much about cars. But, Lithium Razor, the leader of the infamous crew she and Rasta had been in, was a fanatic, and the only member of the team who had a vehicle with four wheels.

Leaning on the hood of the Mustang was, Candy? Well, someone who looked almost exactly like her. Except she was about two inches taller and wore a tight, fluorescent purple tank, with a Day-Glo yellow blaster in a shoulder holster and a paint-splattered pair of BL/ind worker coveralls that were rolled down to her hips. Her feet were covered in a pair of motocross boots similar to Rasta's, except that they were electric blue. This girl had a bleached streak in her afro going from her left temple all the way to the nape of her neck, and a bright purple braid curved around her right ear, hanging down her chest. She also had a feather earring, only in her left ear, unlike Candy.

The only other thing that stood out about her was the laughing skull tattooed on her left arm. You didn't see many Killjoys with tattoos these days, because few people knew how to do them were around anymore.

The girl turned to face them as they approached, and reached out a hand. "I'm Shasta De/Tox, Candy's older sister, and I keep this gang in line. I've seen your man around, but I never got the chance to meet him. I got the impression he's pretty mysterious." As Desi reached out to shake Shasta's hand, she noticed her eyes. They were brown and full of spunk and 'kick-ass' as Candy described it. But she seemed weathered, more so than most Killjoys, like she'd looked the hell California had become straight in the face, and seen all its darkness. But way she spoke and the firm hand-shake she gave Desi told her she was still full of Killjoy hope and ready to stir up some chaos to give BL/ind.

"Oh, Ros isn't mysterious. You should have met Silent Apocalypse. The only thing the guy ever said to me was his name. And he was the scariest Killjoy in my gang." Desi said, as Rasta took his turn shaking Shasta's hand.

"I'm Rasta Blasta," he said. "Not mysterious, just withdrawn. I was dealing with the idea that I might've lost my crash queen." Rasta smiled, and looked at Desi. "But, as you can see, all's well now." Shasta nodded.

"So no more vibes that are gonna bum out my Killjoys, right?" Rasta nodded an affirmative, and came to stand behind Desi, with his arms around her. "Good." Shasta focused her gaze on Desi. "You are climbing up the ranks of legend, my girl. Better make yourself worth their praise."

Desi nodded. "I'll do my best, just had a bad couple of weeks. I should be ready to chase into a clap and make some noise just like everyone is expecting me to, any day now."

"Okay, vital business has been dealt with." Shasta uncrossed her arms, putting her hands on the hood of the Mustang, and standing up. "Do either of you two want a beer?"

"Sure." Rasta said.

"No, thanks," Desi piped up. "You got a soda around here, though?" she asked.

"Anything for Miss Party Poison," Shasta looked to Candy. "Can you go get us some drinks, please?" Desi's eyebrows rose. In a world of chaos, terror, and kids who grew up too fast, manners were rare.

As Candy bounded off, Shasta started talking again. "So you're heading for the meet?" When Desi nodded an affirmative, she sighed. "If I hadn't heard Dr. D himself tell us over the radio, I wouldn't trust the info. Searching out Killjoys in their own hideouts is all right, 'cause they negotiate on their safe ground. Calling us all out to some random location... It's not right."

"But, you've got a huge group of Killjoys. You can overpower a squad of Dracs, right?" Desi asked.

"Not when only about a dozen of us have got guns." Shasta replied.

"Crap." Rasta said.

"Wait!" Desi exclaimed. "The convenience store I've been squatting for the past week or so has a BL/ind distribution unit. Candy probably didn't notice because she found me before she finished scouting out the building."

Shasta zeroed in on Desi. "Great news," she said icily. "do you have a Vend-a-Hack stashed somewhere on that bike of yours? We sure don't."

Desi's shoulders drooped. "No." Lithium Razor had been the only one he'd trust with the precious item, and had taken it with him when their group disbanded.

"Actually," Rasta started, "we've got something even better." he continued, beginning to hunt around in his leather jacket while Desi was still wearing it. "That is, unless my girl here lost the Drac IDs we found in the stash box when we stole the bike." As he said that, he squeezed her waist, trying to show her he was joking. Desi was ticklish, but of course, Rasta knew that, and wasn't surprised at all when she jumped six inches in the air.

"A-ha!" Rasta exclaimed a few moments later, pulling out two plastic cards. They were a lot like BL/ind citizen IDs, but the only thing that was different was that there was no picture. Just three letters, followed by a nine digit code covered the front, with a barcode and magnetic strip on the back.

"So, I guess we should grab a couple of Killjoys and head back to that convenience store with you," Shasta said as Candy came back around the RV with an armful of cans.

As she passed Desi, she handed her a cola, and tossed a beer at Rasta. Candy leaned against the hood of the Mustang with her sister. They all drank from their respective cans in the comfortable silence that tended to happen among Killjoys, especially around food.

Shasta finished her beer, crushing the can in her fist and tossing the remains into a trash can that was attached to the back of the RV.

"Nice throw." Desi commented, since it was a fifteen foot toss.

"Thanks," Shasta replied, and turned to her sister. "We may have a way to get more guns out to the Killjoys. Do you have a crew in mind to drag along? We only need about two, since we're taking the 'Stang."

Candy pulled a straw out of a hiding place somewhere, and stuck it in her cherry soda. As she appeared to run through the Killjoy roster in her head, she sipped thoughtfully at the can. "Hmmm," she said after a minute or so, "I'd probably bring Epic Strike and Cyanide Smash. Do you want me to go round them up?"

Shasta stood up again, and looked at the sun. "Yeah, go do that. I want you all together and ready by Desi's bike in fifteen, or less." She looked at Rasta and Desi. "You two taking that bike, or rolling with us?"

Rasta looked at Desi. "Well, with a bike, we could get away faster," he murmured, so only she could hear. "But if we go on our own vehicle, it looks like we're trying to be our own group."

Desi nodded. "Let's roll with them. I'm all for unity, and Shasta seems dependable, if a bit lacking in trust. But what Killjoy doesn't have a trust complex?"

"Okay." Rasta turned to look at Shasta again, and raised his voice. "We'll roll with you, if that's all right."

"Check your gear first." Shasta pulled out her own blaster, double-checking the power setting (extra high voltage for Dracs) and the safety switch. She flicked it off, as they were gearing up for a mission and every second counts when you're in a clap with some Dracs.

Desi pulled out her own blaster, realizing that the thunder bolt emblem on the muzzle was almost worn off. The laser voltage was on extra high (sometimes Killjoys left them that way so long they got stuck there), and the safety was off. Expected, since she'd been alone for nineteen days and her nerves had been hair-trigger. You don't relax; you don't turn off the safety.

When she straightened from placing her blaster back into its holster, Desi saw Rasta returning his own blaster to its usual place, tucked into the waistband of his jeans. "You know, Ros, one of these days, you are so gonna shoot yourself in the ass, and I'll have to nurse you back to health."

Rasta grinned at her, his infectious smile back in full force. "You know it, Dizzy, and I'd enjoy every second of your... attentions." He said, his eyes roaming all over her body. He stepped toward her, and pulled her into his arms for a long and heated kiss.

They pulled away a minute later, with both of them breathing a little bit harder. "You have no idea how much I've missed you." He said fiercely, his face buried in her hair.

Shasta coughed, and the two pulled apart. "You two gonna get a room, or get in the car and head out with me?"

"Sorry," Rasta mumbled, and they both climbed into the back seat. Shasta started the engine, and started the slow drive around the crowd of Killjoys. A few minutes later, they pulled up next to Rasta's bike, where Candy and two killjoy boys who looked about fourteen and sixteen stood.

The older killjoy boy had bright yellow (not blonde, yellow) hair that stood up in a shock from his skull. He was wearing a black leather jacket so faded you could call it grey, and yellow skinny jeans, with scuffed combat boots and a faded spider t-shirt. The younger killjoy had a head of black-blue hair and very blue eyes. His shirt was bright green, and he wore a blue motorcycle jacket that seemed about a size too big. His pants were baggy and had a bunch of pockets, and were so long on him you couldn't even see his shoes.

Both had holster belts with white blasters, which meant that they had either recently lost their painted ones, or had never been in a clap, and therefore hadn't earned their colors. The former was more likely, especially since so few Killjoys in the group were armed. Rasta and Desi scooted over in the backseat to share with Epic Strike (who turned out to be the boy with black-blue hair) and Cyanide Smash (the yellow-haired killjoy), while Candy took the shotgun seat.

Once everyone was settled in, Shasta revved the motor and they sped away toward the abandoned convenience store.

The ride was short, and even though it was a bit cramped, there was a stereo in the Mustang. They all sang along to the punk music most Killjoys favored, even though it turned out Cyanide Smash was so tone deaf, cats might have howled in his presence (if there were still cats somewhere in the Zones).

Kiss and Tell by You Me At Six was rolling into the opening verse as the Mustang pulled up in the parking lot of the abandoned convenience store that Candy and Desi had left only a few hours earlier. "Epic, Cyanide. You two go scope out the place while we raid the distribution unit."

"Yes, sir!" The pair said, grinning, and climbed out of the car, drawing their blasters as they went.

Desi and Rasta climbed out of the back seat while Candy and Shasta got out of the car and shut their doors almost simultaneously. Rasta handed Desi one of the Drac cards. "It looks like we're lucky, girls. This unit was built to be able to serve two at a time. Odd, but why question BL/ind, if it serves us?"

"Precisely! So, let's team up: Candy and Rasta, while I'm with Desi. One person works the machine, while the other one loads all the guns into the trunk. Sound good?" Shasta asked.

They all agreed and paired up. "So, how many Killjoys do you have?" Desi asked, curious.

"Not entirely sure, since a lot of them come and go, but at least forty-five. So I say we clean out the machine, and if we got extras, I bet there will be Killjoys running around at the meet unarmed." Shasta said.

In the end, they ended up with about sixty-five blasters before the digital displays started scrolling 'Selection Slot Empty' over and over again. "Well, girls, I think it's time to meet up with the rest of the Killjoys back at the RV and head for the meeting place." Rasta announced after Shasta had nearly resorted to kicking the machine.

Candy whistled sharply, and the two Killjoy boys came clambering down from their posts on the roof. Everyone piled into the car again and they headed back to the Mustang. For most of the ride back, they all screamed along with 'Alligator Blood' from Bring Me the Horizon. It was quickly decided that Rasta Blasta had the best voice for the heavy metal music.

Killjoys, having heard of the mission earlier, ran up to the car as they pulled in. So it was fairly easy for Shasta and Candy to pass out blasters to the other Killjoys while Desi and Rasta got out of the car and headed for their bike. "Since they'll be a while heading out, Candy told me where the meet was likely to be." Desi told Rasta as she wriggled out of his hoodie and motorcycle jacket. "There's an old shack with a black widow graffiti sprayed on the side. Dr. Death Defying used to use it as one of his bases for his radio station before he set up shop in the diner." Desi said as she handed him the jacket. "So he left a flag flying as a sign. Kind of like Dr. D's own version of a welcome mat."

Rasta slipped into the dark red hoodie and scarred brown leather jacket. He mumbled something like 'damn, I missed my gear' and looked back up to face her. "So we're heading out first and scoping it out, so Candy and the other scouts don't have to?"

Desi nodded. "Pretty much, but since Dr. D ran the pirate radio station out of there and never had any troubles, we should be pretty safe on the Drac side." She looked Rasta up and down. "Have I ever told you how good you look in that jacket, Killoy boy?" Desi traced a finger down the red, yellow, and green stripes that adorned the sleeves of the leather coat.

Rasta stepped closer, smiling, and put his hands on her hips. "No, I don't think you have," he muttered, and started nuzzling her neck. Desi laughed, and gently pushed him away, smiling.

"Mmm, you know I missed you, Ros, but we've got a lot to do today. We can… get reacquainted this evening." Desi stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. "Let's go. We need to get down to mile marker 57, and the highway we were on today connects to Route Guano at about mile marker 15."

Rasta heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I guess you're right," he mocked, and broke out into his ever present grin. "I've been away from this baby way too long," he said, sliding a hand along the curve of the bike. He turned and looked at Desi. "I wanna drive."

Desi smiled again herself. "Go right ahead. You know I always thought that the bike handled a little heavy for me. I only drove it because you weren't here, and I had to keep an eye on it." Rasta was practically bouncing up and down. Boys and cars…

Rasta straddled the bike, and twisted the throttle. Desi climbed on behind him, and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his back. It was good to have Rasta with her again. She hadn't been separated from him at all since Lithium Razor, Silent Apocalypse, Nuclear Spider, and Rasta Blasta had saved her butt from the Dracs in her first clap. Being without him was like being fresh meat in the desert all over again, and it had royally sucked.

The engine roared under her body as the desert flew by, and she quickly fell asleep. For the first time since the morning attack by those Dracs, she slept without dreams. Or nightmares, even, for that matter.

She awoke to the bike coming to a stop, and the roar of the engine dying. She sat up, groggy, and slowly crawled off the bike. "Nice nap, Sleeping Beauty?" Desi muttered an obscene proposition, and flipped him the finger. "You're so sweet when you're sleepy, Dizzy. But you might wanna wake up fast, because we're here and the Fabulous Killjoys are likely to surprise us any moment.

Oh, shit. Desi practically slapped herself awake, which made Rasta nearly double over laughing. "Oh, shut up, Rasta. You'd be embarrassed to meet your heroes with sleep lines and bike hair."

Rasta kept snickering. "It doesn't make you any less funny." Desi lunged at Rasta, tackling him to ground.

"Help, help!" Rasta mock yelled as he let Desi overpower him. But, quickly, he grabbed her hips and rolled so he was on top. "I win."

"Ahem," a strange voice interrupted. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think you two were here for a different reason, right?"

If they hadn't recognized the voice as one that sang nearly every song on Dr. D's radio station, both Killjoys would have drawn their blasters and pointed them at the voice. Instead, they both turned to face Party Poison. What an interesting story to pass on to younger Killjoys: "How did you meet Party Poison?" "Well, you see, he caught me and my boyfriend wrestling around in the dirt this one time."

Four men stood in front of the shack, all trying very hard not to laugh. The leader, even though he didn't act like he was in control of anything, was Party Poison, with his telltale cherry red hair, blue leather jacket and dingy white skinny jeans. To his left, there was the Kobra Kid, his hair short and blond, wearing a red motorcycle jacket and yellow shirt. To his right was Fun Ghoul, in a dark green vest with a long sleeved yellow shirt, striped with black. A little apart from them (and obviously protecting whoever else was inside) was Jet Star, hiding behind his aviator shades, with wavy dark hair and a black leather jacket. His hand was resting on his blue blaster, but he was looking beyond Desi and Rasta, out into the distance.

"Oh, my… Fuck!" Desi scrambled to her feet, and started stammering uselessly.

Fun Ghoul stepped forward, grabbing her shoulders. A noise whined behind her, and Desi realized dimly that Rasta Blasta had pointed his blaster at Fun Ghoul, with the trigger even primed. Who would point a blaster at a Fabulous Killjoy? They were heroes. "I won't harm your girl," Ghoul said over Desi's shoulder at Rasta. "Promise."

Rasta snorted. "I know the stories. You flirt with every girl Killjoy. And, if you don't mind, I just got her back when I thought she was dead, so if you don't mind, I'd like to keep her." He said, with his voice icy.

Fun Ghoul smiled a bit. "The world is ending, thanks to BL/ind; and guys still worry about losing their girls to their heroes. Ain't it great?" He sighed. "I'm just trying to calm her down. From what we know, she seems like she's been a little high strung lately, and going into a big ball of shock at meeting us probably isn't helping. Even though we're all flattered, of course, because it's not every day a rising legend still freaks out over us." Fun Ghoul turned to look at Desi. "Desi, or, erm, Destroya, whatever you want us to call you," He started. "Please relax. We're just normal Killjoys like you. Only we're maybe a little crazier and stupid, and at least ten years older than most of you." Desi stopped yammering, but she wasn't really processing his words. "Please, please, I don't want to slap you. It would be completely 1950, and Kobra would get so mad at me." He looked over her shoulder at Rasta again. "And your guy over there would probably shoot me. That wouldn't feel too great." Fun Ghoul frowned, and focused on Desi's eyes again. "What's your guy's name?"

"Rasta Blasta." Desi spat it out automatically. "He's mine, and the Dracs knocked him out, and took him away, and I almost thought he was dead, and I was turning totally lame, and then I found him! Everything is fine, and now I'm never letting him leave again, and you can't touch him, I won't let you…" Desi continued on, but Fun Ghoul turned his attention to Rasta.

"Oh shit, man, I made it worse." He looked between the muzzle of Rasta's blaster and Desi's face several times. "Erm, Rasta, is it? I think right now, you'd be the best man to handle this." He immediately raised his hands, and backed up. "She needs you, man."

Somewhere in her mind, Desi heard Rasta's blaster powering back down, as well as the scuff of his boots in the dirt as he stood.

Suddenly his face was right in front of her. "Dizzy, it's all fine. I'm right here, okay?"

Apparently, Rasta decided the verbal approach wasn't working, so he kissed her. Shock wasn't much different from kissing Rasta, one just felt really great while the other mostly consisted of a buzzing around her head. Either way her thoughts were still very fuzzy. But somehow, Desi came back to Earth and started kissing Rasta back. When he was satisfied that she was going to be alright he pulled away.

He moved to face the Fabulous Killjoys with her, still leaving one arm around her shoulders. "Okay, now that Desi's not freaking out, I have a big question."

Party Poison, Desi suddenly noticed, seemed a little displeased. "What?" Party Poison asked.

"How the hell do you guys know who she is?" Rasta demanded.

"What do you mean?" Jet Star asked.

"When Fun Ghoul was trying to calm Desi down, I heard him say her name, and mention her rising fame. She's only popular mostly around Zone 7, where Lithium Razor's crew used to run. This is Zone 11, almost 12, actually." Rasta looked at all of the Fabulous Killjoys. "And while you may care about all the Killjoys and know most of them, you wouldn't recognize every local Killjoy hero on sight. Nobody gets recognized like that except you, because you've been around since the Fall, and everyone knows what you look like.

"So, again, how the hell do you know who she is?" Rasta said, raising his voice.

Kobra Kid sighed. "Well, I guess we should explain, Party-"

Kobra was interrupted by Party Poison raising his arm at the elbow, hand fisted. Kind of like old military code for 'I'm you superior so shut the fuck up.'

Party spoke. "We don't need to tell the mushy girl anything."

Rasta scoffed. "Seriously? Dozens of Killjoys have come straight from BL/ind life. I expected you to be more welcoming, being the epitome of Killjoy good spirit and all."

Party Poison narrowed his eyes. "Not from Battery City, they don't." Party waved a hand at Desi. "And that's irrelevant. We hold grudges for our own reasons."

"We?" Kobra Kid spoke up. "Excuse me, brother, but we decided a long time ago that you'd stop speaking for the two of us as a whole about this."

"It doesn't matter," Party Poison replied. "I still refuse to trust her."

"Why?" Rasta asked. "So, she ran around with Lithium Razor. So did I. He had a little more hate and bloodlust than the average Killjoy, but he saved her ass from a couple of Dracs in her first real clap. She felt she owed him something. And I grew up with the guy, so I put up with his psycho crap, tried to keep him in line."

"It has nothing to do with Lithium Razor." Party's voice was empty of emotion, which was pretty damn scary for one of the boldest, craziest, most badass Killjoys.

"What does it have to do with, then?" Rasta was getting impatient.

Desi finally spoke up. "I wanna know, too. Why do you hate me, Party Poison?"

Kobra Kid stepped toward her, but stopped, probably a little afraid of his older brother. "It's because you're our half-sister."

9