2. 109 in the sky, but the pigs won't quit.
Outside the diner sat a car. A real beauty of a car. Trans-Am with the Killjoy's symbol of a Desert Spider decorating the side, the trunk, and the front.
Jet-Star sat in the back seat, arms crossed, sulking. Fun Ghoul piled in next time him, spouting aimless gibberish about past adventures. As Party climbed into the car, and Kobra finally left the diner, Star's mood shifted.
He was always the lonely kid before, in the other life. The weird kid no-one talked to, playing endless games of Dungeons and Dragons with kids who were so smart, their IQ could probably beat a computer... That life, was boring. As a Killjoy, he felt like he was part of something, he was changing the world, and he could feel it in his bones. Looking around, he could see his team. Bright, bold men, who were willing to die for this, as much as he was. He knew adventure was out there, and he wanted to taste every last bit of it.
"We're heading to zone-six", Star said. "Missile went out there earlier, her first solo mission. It's our turn to clean up the mess. She went with the girls team. All came back okay, but a few...things.. Need finishing off."
"Zone-Six it is" Party Poison sighed. He rememered the last time they'd been in zone-six — a time when diaster had almost taken his brother, a disaster named Korse.
They chose the desert root to zone-six. Tactifully avoiding Battery City centre, drawing attention from Better Living Industries, was the last thing they needed. Another fake death would not go down well at all with Dr.D. Not only did it mean they avoided trouble, but it meant Party could drive. Really drive.
He slammed down on the acceleration peddle, and the car, with it's stream-lined look, sped through the desert. Clouds of sand blown up from the tyres covered the path they took, winding between rocks.
Ghoul sat quite for a moment. It wasn't often he did this. The long, black-haired, hazel eyed man often had a lot to say, and often, it was nonsense. However his flare of a personality made it okay, and the giggly humour that hung around him, added something special to the team.
"Mikey?" Ghoul questioned.
Everyone fell silent. Ghoul, gasped, realising his fatal error.
In this world, there are 3 names. The name you have, the name you take, and the name you are known by.
The name you have, is the name you're parents gave you at birth. However, in this world of war, that name gives the enemy the power of you're history, and the power to destory you. So, there is the name you take. This, for Killjoys is known as you're code name — Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, Jet-Star and Kobra Kid. However, the enemy, knows you by the final name. The name you are given. These tend to be numbers, because in Better Living Industries, no-one has time for names.
"Kobra, sorry. Shit, oh God dammit. I didn't mean to, I swear. I... I didn't think, fuck" Ghoul stammered. He was confident, always, but he hated knowing inside him that he had put his friend into almost certain danger.
"Cool it, I don't think anyone could have heard, we're going too fast, and no-one's around. Fun Ghoul, watch you're mouth. You know how crucial it is not to say those names!" Party Poison snapped.
It wasn't often that he lost it with Fun Ghoul, and he disliked the times when he did, but he had almost lost his brother once, and he didn't intend to do it again.
*Better Living Industries*
The static noise crackled.
"Mikey... Kobra...Sorry shit" could just be heard. Korse smiled. He knew who one of them was, now, he just had to get the data. With his boss on vacation, and his battery pack charged for a month, he could work on his plan, total Killjoy annihilation. Gosh, wouldn't Anette be pleased when she saw what he'd done...