Earlier that morning _
Retro Viral was sitting on the bar wiring Dr. Death's mobile gear to the one she kept in her backpack. They needed to broadcast this over the whole rage, leaving no zone with out the news. The Fabulous Killjoys, as they had been nicknamed by their comrades, had passed on in an altruistic mission and they needed to be held as the heroes they were. She remembered when she had just made it into the desert; Kobra Kid had taken her in and helped her, watched over her and taught her the tricks of the trade. Every little thing she knew now, she owed it to the master. To Kobra Kid and his love-hate relationship with electronics, without them most killjoys would have gone back on the four men had started this movement to live life they way they wanted. To laugh, to love, to feel every butterfly and the nerves of doing something for the first time, that adoration you feel when you see a young one get it right after you've learn it like a well-worn glove.
They fought so they could be free to feel this pain, this loss and the misery when they thought of how cold the world had become. The pain and sorrow wasn't always a bad thing as most people would say it is, it's what helps you secure your humanity, it's that thing that reminds just how much you hold someone dear and how much they loved you back. These men made it so they could live, dream, love, cry and just be who they are. Because of them, she had something to live for, something to keep her living and some day find that thing that was always meant for her, that bright side and the strength to cross the bridge to get to it. That movement became an army, that army became a family. It was a family that never turned its back; a family that would stand by you, take your hand and hold you when things went from bad to worse. They would die for you and you would do the same, because that's how much they cared. They never cared how banged up they were, they would always make sure you were safe and even though you knew nothing and barely knew them you would worrying about them; the urge to keep them safe and living would overcome the fear and the uncertainty. You believed in not just a cause but in life and in being human and free; you believed in love and to make your own choices. They said it's okay to have problems, to not be okay because happiness isn't not having any problems its being able to look past them and be happy. Just the way you are, because you are beautiful and you don't need to change for anyone and no one can change you just because they don't like you.
She remembered Party Poison and something he had written down, even though he had been reluctant she had made him sing it. She recorded it and the other boys had picked up some instruments and played them like they had been dong so their entire lives. Funny thing was they didn't recall ever learning to, or ever playing together. For a moment it scared them and they found that maybe they had known each other before. Party knew Kobra was his brother and that he had known Ghoul and Jet form before, just never being able to remember beyond that. Every now and then he'd get glimpses of his life before the Inferno, the name they gave the end of the world, the great fires of 2012 was just too long. That moment, it felt so right, like they had done that for years on end, the same feeling they had when they went up against BL/ind in their hearts. That's when they remembered their real names; she didn't remember her own until she saw he sister get shot in the stomach by an exterminator. The fear of losing her and the white-hot hatred she felt for the agent had made her kick a drac so hard in the head it dropped dead, when she reached for her sibling's gun she didn't even hear herself scream as she ran to the achromatic being in the other wise quiet desert. She only remembered gunning him down, a scorch mark dead between his eyes. She kept firing until her older sister put a hand on her shoulder and she dropped the gun hugging the woman, when the tears had started was still a blur but she suspected they had begun when the agent had aimed his gun at the bruised and bloodied woman. From that day on Faded Electric and Retro Viral were like each other's shadow and it would scare people when the other didn't need to talk and one always knew what she meant or wanted.
The set up was done and all of this was still running through her mind when she called the DJ to the mike. He looked at her as she tried to busy herself with the screen and keeping her head down or to the side. A hand went to her chin and another to her shoulder, he turned her head and she pursed her lips averting her eyes, tears about to fall from the surface tension on her long black lashes. When she looked at him, he gave her that look only a grandmother should be able to give, the hand on her shoulder moved to her cheek and she held on to them bowing her head and letting the tears fall, a small sob escaping and a sniffle. He took her in his arms and held her, she clung to his leather jacket, the one Kobra had found for him. He never spoke; if he did she might have pushed him away and held back the pain that would have only hurt her further. She was sure she heard him stifle a few sounds as he cried, arms flexing and face buried in her hair. Faded was putting Grace to bed or she would have hugged her from behind, making her feel warm and safe in a cocoon of people who felt the same way she did, who would cry with her. After a few minutes they pulled apart and she wiped the tears with a portion of the tie around skirt and she chuckled a little, her throat still aching and closed. She reached up and wiped the tears off of his cheeks and kissed the left one. "Better pinky?" he spoke in his deep tone, though his voice was still a little rough. "Soon, let's be the bearers of bad news." She sniffed and moved their gear to a booth, cursing about not setting it up there in the first place, taking a seat and messing around with two sets of microphones.
The raven haired man got back in his wheelchair and went to the end of the table, he had regained mobility for a few years now but he still needed the chair every now and then when the pain was too much. Amazing thing about the desert, it can heal the worst pains you've ever felt just because it liked to be so desolate or look it anyways. The sun had begun to rise and it hit them how long the chase had taken.
"Wake up my detox babies Dr. Death Defying here with the early happenings at the best spot in this hell or the next. Bringing you the freshest news and grimmest greetings, telling you you're never alone in this big ol' sandbox. Give it up for the infectious cure to Acrome, my dosage of lovely poison Retro Viral." He spoke into the mike his voice still a little raw as he chalked up the radio persona. It was her turn now, "That's right Dr. D I'm here bringing the scoop on where the hot spots stick and where the hot mess lays. My job ain't a pretty one kiddies and last night proves just how fucked it can be. Keep running and never look back is a rule we live by and one that, right now, babes is what we need to do."
She backed away from the device and put her hand on her mouth as she bit back tiny cries of pain and anguish. They had gotten good at doing morning editions together when they met up. The radio pirate took over.
"I'd like to say Good Morning to all you zone runners, this morning is anything but good. Yesterday at dusk, the Fabulous ones had a show down with an exterminator and bit the dust. Achromatics abducted a young on' and our brothers fell in the rescue, gunned down by a horde of dracs getting the girly to the rescue ride. These four gentlemen gave their lives to protect our future, this time by saving a killjoy to the bone kid, and way back seven long years ago by dragging our drugged derrieres out of the cities, having the balls and flipping the birdie. Giving us a place to be uncensored and unmonitored" He gripped her hand and she began, the all familiar ache of be wronged and a need for retribution biting at her insides.
"A few years back, I found out Party was a real shiny singer, he told me and that sometime we'd all have to sing it out, for the everything we ever cared about, everything and one that hurts us and everyone that needs a hand." The sun was up and Marauder had begun to make something akin to coffee, the scent stirring her stomach to hunger, she hadn't eaten anything since yesterday's lunch. "We're on the high way to hell, going down with our friends shooting from the hip." The good old Dr. purred into the microphone. She joined him for the last bit their voices in sync. "Retro Viral and Dr. Death out for the time being, zones to run, calamity calling me" she continued "lets make those Dracs regret the day they crossed us," vocalizing the way that would've made Party give a 'fuck yeah' face. "Keep running, Dust Angels" they turned off the mikes and kept the feed open in case they got any messages from anyone who needed a hand.
A/N:
Last part of your x-mas gift sugar butt, Merry x-mas, don't get too shit faced and sing it out, motor babies. Never let them take the light behind your eyes. Let me know you kiddies are alive and give a review, anon reviews are open btw...
Next transmission: January
Code: Planetary
Keep it Ugly
Faded Electric, over and out