A/N: I'm sorry. I'm terrible at updating…I know. Please don't ghost me, KTHXBYE :D So, here it is, with much anticipated glory, the second chapter to 'Look Alive, Sunshine'.
.
Look Alive, Sunshine
.
The Trans Am was probably the most comfortably warm and cozy thing that Babygirl had inhabited in a long time. She was seated between a shorter dark-haired Killjoy who was chain-smoking like no tomorrow (which was a thorough possibility at any given point of day), and a thin blonde Killjoy who was more than eager to welcome Babygirl into their dysfunctional family setting. He had his head resting on her shoulder, his eyes drooping into a nap-like state.
"Jesus, Kobra, you're like a puppy!" The Killjoy that Babygirl came to know as Jet Star chirped from the passenger seat. Kobra lazily lifted his hand and presented Jet Star with his middle finger, before letting it fall back to his lap. Babygirl snorted, beginning to find the whole situation quite hilarious. The dark-haired Killjoy leaned forward, giving the pair an analyzing glance before resting back in the dirty seat.
"Kobra just wants in your pants, you know." Kobra threw his hands up in a militaristic way, expressing his frustration.
"Am I not allowed to make friends, Fun Ghoul?" The other Killjoy chuckled and began to light another cigarette.
"Nope. You may only be a friendless loser for the rest of your years. Enjoy loneliness, bitch." The blonde gave up hope with the rest of the team, keeping quiet while he rested against Babygirl's shoulder. The car seemed silent after this whole shindig, finally reaching there destination with much anticipation after the sun had completely disappeared behind the California horizon. Party seemed to be the most relieved as they parked in front of an abandoned diner. A small light shone bright in the desert night, illuminating the shadows of the Killjoys as they exited from the beat-up vehicle. A slight breeze whipped Babygirl's hair back, causing her to pull up her bandana over her mouth to keep from inhaling the sandy air. She cautiously and wearily trailed after the group, straggling behind.
"Coast is clear, captain!" A small, high-pitched voice called from inside the diner before the figure whom the voice belonged came barreling out the wooden-board (which was a makeshift door).
"Perfecto, Gracie! No Dracs came rolling around these parts, then?" Party Poison addressed the small, curly-haired, vivacious girl who stood at his feet.
"Nope. No sir. Just boring desert day, like always," Innocence touched her voice, the new-born smile on Babygirl's lips seeming to form because of it. Jet Star reached his hand out, and instinctively, Grace reached up to hit it with a satisfying 'smack' to follow. This was, quite apparent to Babygirl, a pattern that was normal for the whole group. The newest member of the dysfunctional group placed her palm flat against her forearm, reaching across her body in a nervous habit.
The child changed her glance to that of Babygirl's, her stare intense and unlike that of someone her age.
"Hey, Party…who's that?" The red-head grinned and placed a hand on his hip.
"That, right there, is a new friend of ours. We found her while we were out on route Guano, coasting through Zone 3," The girl known as 'Grace' trudged through the sand, walking directly towards Babygirl, who was still rather close to where the Trans Am sat quietly. The sheer will power of Grace alone caused Babygirl to backpedal herself closer to the vehicle. Both paused in there footsteps, cautious of one another. Both caught the other's eyes, and for a split second, they shared something deeper than most people find in an entire lifetime of friendship. Quite suddenly, Grace launched herself at Babygirl's legs and squeezed tightly.
"You're gonna be my new best friend! I'm tired of boys! Come on inside, I'll show you where you can sleep at!" The Killjoy felt a tug at her hand, a smaller one finding hers and clutching instinctively, pulling her into a new world of something long forgotten to the post-apocalyptic world…family.
.
"Wakey, wakey, bite from a snakey, get the hell up and let's roll!" The sun wasn't even touching what was left of the earth by the time Kobra Kid had woken the whole group with his shouting. Babygirl's eyelids were still heavy as bricks and she had Grace resting at her side. Another nightmare…? Babygirl tried not to get anxious quite yet, reasoning with herself why it was normal for a child to want to crawl into bed with someone they trusted…
"Hey, how about you calm the fuck down and hold on for one goddamn minute, Kobra," Babygirl's messy head popped into the hallway, her voice hissing at the blonde.
"Unless you feel like dying today, I suggest you hurry up," Was the older Killjoy's poisonous response. Babygirl shook her head and retreated to the darkness of the dirty room. Gently, she leaned down and rested her thin hand on Grace's shoulder and jolted her lightly.
"Gracie, up and at 'em girl. We've gotta go and contaminate, babe," The soft moans and groans that rose from the smaller being were the only sign of her awakening. Babygirl shook her head and lifted the girl from the ratty sheets, sitting her upright in the twin-sized mattress.
"I know, you're tired, but Kobra's gonna shoot me if I don't have you ready in the next five minutes," Grace rubbed her tired eyes, nodding in exhausted agreement. She allowed the older girl to place all the necessary clothing on her and adjust her wild curls.
"Are you hungry?" It was a terrible question to provoke, knowing that the limited supply of food they had was not going to satisfy the cravings on a 9-year-old. Grace gave a small nod, a yawn escaping with it.
"Alright, hold on, I'll be back with something for you, okay? Go on and talk to Kobra, make him chill out a little bit. You're his favorite, anyway," Delighted, Grace slid herself off the bed and raced out into the main area of the tiny diner. Babygirl shook her head, chuckling to herself before making her way to the kitchen. She passed the largest room in the entire building on her way, catching a glimpse of Jet Star lacing up his boots with a frustrated look set on his face. She would assume, unless finding out otherwise, that Jet and Kobra had gotten into it before she had even woke.
"Something edible, something digestible, something not-shitty for Gracie to eeaattt," The brunette sang to herself in a low voice, rummaging through cabinets and grimy recesses of the ancient kitchen. "Something that's not dog food, something that will taste good, something that will get us going so Kobra doesn't have an aneurism!" Nearly dancing at this point, the Killjoy bumped into Party Poison, who was entering through the swinging doors. Both lost balance, but remained on their feet.
"Shit, sorry Party!" The leather-clad man looked at the open cabinets, taking in the surroundings.
"No problemo. Were you the one who was singing?" Babygirl nodded sheepishly.
"Uh-huh. Only to keep from losing my mind, really. Trying to find something for Grace, but…" Her voice trailed off, eyes following suit. Party knew how motherly Babygirl could get, even if it was one of her biggest downfalls.
"Don't get your hopes up or anything, but there might be some sort of canned fruit way in the back, near the trashed stoves…" Party Poison groped his way through the darkened kitchen, Babygirl trailing behind.
"Almost there…" This was followed up by a multitude of clanking and crashing, a few curse words, and a final sigh of victory, "…one can of Better Living 'Pears'." The brunette's eyes lit up, her hand tentatively reaching out for the can.
"Yes, perfect! Thanks, Party, I would have felt like shit if I would have gone back to her with dog food." Like with any other member of the small, rebellious family, Babygirl reached forward and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him into a tight embrace. It was as soon as the hug began that it ended, the smaller of the two running off into the depths of the diner to seek out Grace, leaving the red-head with the lingering warmth of her body. Three weeks ago, he had found the new Killjoy alone in Zone 3, fending for herself like a lone ranger. Three weeks later, he was finding sliced fruits for her in their dirty make-shift home. And three weeks after that? Well, that was a story in the making…