"Bright lights that won't kill me now, or tell me how. Just you and I, your starless eyes, remain." ~My Chemical Romance, "It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Deathwish"

Korse stared out of the hotel window at the rising sun. It was looking like a very nice day, or as nice as it got in the Zones, when the temperature mostly wavered somewhere around 110 Fahrenheit and the air was full of toxins. It was worth it, though, all the work and danger of tracking the Killjoy threat. What better way to give back to the company that had given him a purpose in life?

He remembered vividly how he'd wandered into the perfectly ordinary office in search of a job after the first 2012 fires. He had been lost in life, alone, and felt that there was so much more he could be doing to help the world than just sitting around drawing comics. Better Living Industries had not only gotten him a job, they'd offered him a chance to reinvent himself. Most places he'd worked at had merely ignored him, but BLI let him have a direct effect on what they did.

And what they did was mind-blowing. On the surface, they were a manufacturing company- they made antidepressants and other medications, as well as various laborsaving devices like the Laser ScissorsÔ - but their ideology went far beyond merely buying lots of neat things. They were on a mission to truly make every aspect of life better, and that meant major changes.

When the inevitable wars broke out, BLI used the chaos of the times as a way to show their true ability to fix the world's problems. They'd begun with a simple new marketing campaign: the guarantee that "we can fix you." Then they'd upped the production of medication, because those were trying times, and started construction on the safest buildings known to man. All the frightened people had flocked into the quickly growing Battery City, and, with plenty of money and a lot of dedication, BLI became the most stable company in all of history, a rock during the storm of warfare even as governments toppled around them.

They supplied the lost, lonely people with the means to have a decent life in the aftermath of the wars. There were just a few things the people would need to do in return. Firstly, they were encouraged to give up religion, because that only caused disagreements over who was going to Heaven and what god to worship, and all that. It confused things, and the people would be better off without it; most of those who had believed in God before now felt abandoned by Him, anyway. Secondly, the people were asked to give up a lot of cultural heritage. It might be asking a lot, but most culture-specific traditions, like festivals, served no purpose now that half the countries on Earth (or more) were complete wasteland. It didn't make sense to cling to the remnants of a dead society, especially when the new one being built was destined to be the greatest ever.

Korse had accepted all of this whole-heartedly, as he could see firsthand what problems cultural or political disagreements caused. They promoted nothing but hatred and anger, and BLI sought to replace all of it with love and happiness. What could be better? He had not only believed in everything this marvelous company came up with, he supported it enough to attain higher and higher positions in it, finally making his way to the Head of Security.

Battery City, the only city left standing in California after all the nuclear bombs fell, became BLI's masterpiece. It was pristine, perfect, everyone was happy. The only problem was the Killjoys.

These groups of rebels had decided that they were too good for such things as a little conformity or a little sacrifice for the sake of everyone. Oh no, they were going to fight back with neon and run rampant with self-expression. They were willing to go out in the desert, live like animals, like vermin, and for what? So they could write some songs and draw some pictures about how great they were?

Korse knew that they had it all wrong. BLI wasn't even against self-expression, as that was also a large part of having a fulfilling life, just as long as it didn't make you too flamboyant so you didn't bother anyone else. It was a little like trying to talk to someone across a canyon: if everybody started yelling at once, no one could be heard at all and you just wasted your breath. Everything in moderation, like people said. But the art-obsessed Killjoys insisted on complete freedom, complete anarchy.

Korse muttered a few words of thanks to the Battery City skyline, as he did every day in the Zones. He was so grateful to BLI for letting him do this job; he had come up with the title and role of Exterminator himself, once he saw how the Killjoys went about "expressing" their rebellious feelings through violence and vandalism. He had started a group consisting of the most dedicated BLI workers he knew to go out into the blasted sand, leave the comfort of Battery City, and fight for what they believed in. It was the most noble, meaningful thing Korse had ever done, and in fact, it was soon after his first Zonerun that he'd taken his name. The adoring crowds needed something to chant, after all, and he didn't want his old name and his old life to defile his medals.

Korse smiled, turned from the window, and surveyed the dingy motel room. There was a pathetic Killjoy corpse lying on the bed, its overzealous colored clothing stained by its own blood and burns from Korse's pure white laser blaster. Seated around the room, one reading the Battery City Times and others listening to music, were his faithful Exterminators. They had followed him through firefights and bomb scares, and he wanted to reward his four most loyal underlings by letting them accompany him to the duel he was planning for next week, where they would make history and strike fear into the hearts of the foolish Killjoys after he killed their leader.

But right now he had a more pressing matter to attend to, and that was the health of his right-hand man, Leonard, who appeared to be waking up.

I'm alive

.

That was the first thought in his head as he returned to consciousness, and with the light searing his half-open eyes and mind, it was all he could handle right then.

The disappointment was overwhelming.

Sweet Revenge blinked and sat up, pressing a hand to his neck to keep the bandage in place- the little blue lifesaver he currently despised. His vision came into focus slowly, and he noted that he had ended up in a motel of some sort. It was the kind of trashy, run-down place (where the frayed curtains hung over the dusty windows like poisoned rain and the air had an ever-present stench of sweat) one only saw outside of Battery City. That was some consolation, then: They hadn't taken him back.

The Exterminators lounged around, waiting for something to do, and Sweet Revenge could see a dead Killjoy on the bed. He closed his eyes in disgust, but reopened them when Korse (who else would've dragged him back from self-bestowed death?) said, "He's still alive, you know."

"Who?" Leonard grumbled. Did he have to deal with anything else right now?

"The Killjoy you attacked last night. He's recovered, and now he and the other fabulous"- he sneered the word- "one are hiding out. You'll never guess who ended up helping them."

Sweet Revenge waited, not really caring about the latest news on who was a traitor and who wasn't, as he was the utmost example: He'd betrayed one side with a single laser blast, but he felt no connection to Korse and the Exterminators, either. Whatever had drawn him to BLI was gone, and all he had left was small talk and guilt.

"Andrea," Korse finally dropped the bombshell.

"What? Really?" Leonard tried to feign surprise; he was actually just shocked that Korse hadn't seen it coming sooner.

"She's in love with Party Poison," he spat. "The hopeless girl!" He ranted on about how the relationship would end terribly and Andrea would be sorry that she'd ever messed with such a nasty combination of things as love, the rebellion, and BLI. In fact, Korse would make sure that Andrea would rue the day she tangled with them; he'd kill Party Poison himself and blah blah.

Leonard smiled at this bravado, but not with the same admiration he had previously. "How do you plan to find him, exactly?" he asked, careful to keep his condescension to himself.

"They're obviously together at her base- that nice little radio station of hers. We tracked her cell phone back there," Korse replied. "I won't make the same mistake you did, charging in without a plan. I'm challenging their leader to a one-on-one duel, so we can finally settle this. And that's where you're going to help."

Sweet Revenge bristled at the accusation that his attack had failed- but realized suddenly that his gun had been set to "Stun" the whole time! That was why he was alive, and Fun Ghoul too. What a stupid blunder!

But his anger at himself dissipated when Korse detailed his plans, the first of which involved getting Leonard to write a formal invitation to the Killjoys, explaining the duel. It sounded like Korse had never listened to anything Leonard had told him, all the information he'd gathered with so much sacrifice. He didn't know that the "terrorist group" he sought to eliminate couldn't be gotten rid of by taking out Party Poison. He kept referring to his enemy as the "leader" of the Killjoys, which was false: Party was no more the leader than the dead guy in the bed. The Killjoys didn't have a leader; that's why they were so effective. As long as there was one of them left, the rebellion would still be alive, and could come back like a bunch of cockroaches after fumigation.

Leonard had tried to explain this before, but would not do so again. If Korse still wanted to believe there was a simple solution to the mess he'd landed himself in, fine. Sweet Revenge would have no part of it.

Then Korse said something that made Leonard's cool apathy towards him vanish entirely. "You can come to the duel, of course, as long as you're feeling up to it. I wouldn't want my successor to feel like he'd be attending my funeral. Not that I'll be the one dying, but I don't want you there if you can't handle it."

"Can't handle what?" Leonard snapped.

Korse smirked. "Being responsible for the units if I should lose. I mean, you've been rather…self-serving lately, what with being the only true BLI worker to escape that terrible raid. I heard you filmed that traitor and the Killjoy leader leaving the outpost, instead of attacking them or helping your fellow Exterminators out."

"What's your point?" Leonard tried to sound like he wasn't this close to yelling at Korse.

"Well, I know that you're going through a bit of a rough spot, because of your extra medication, and I wanted to make sure you were strong and confident and ready for whatever job I need you to do."

So he wants to know whether I'm a weakling, a traitor? Sweet Revenge thought bitterly. How unfortunate, then, that I'm both. He'd fire me on the spot if he knew I gave myself this neck wound.

"I can take it." Leonard assured him.

"Good," Korse replied briskly. "I'll be glad to have you there. One more thing, though, Leonard. Would you help me get ready for that day- make sure everything's operating properly and all?"

He nodded, but he had one grievance he could freely air to his boss. "Please, when we get out among the rebels, would you call me by my Killjoy name?"

Korse chuckled. "Certainly, Sweet Revenge. That's very fitting, you know."

Oh, he knew it, all right. Revenge indeed.