Chapter One: The Newcomers

Romance hated caves.

The days in the desert were blisteringly hot, and the nights were too cold to snow. Their cave kept them warm, and so did the campfire, but there was no privacy. He had to change in front of the two girls he travelled with, and the bathroom was just a hole dug into a far corner. The three days they had been there was three days too long.

But they couldn't leave; not when Masquerade was as ill as she was. Somehow, she had caught an infection after leaving Manhattan over a month ago, and with their water rationed, she was struggling to stay hydrated.

Romance knew he should have taken more water.

But he couldn't have done; they only had two bags between them after losing the third in an ambush, and they could only carry so much.

Not to mention the fact that he hadn't seen it rain since the day the moon exploded.

He still couldn't believe that it actually happened, even now, three years later. He remembered sitting in his home with Masquerade when that beam of light crossed the sky. They shared glances, knowing something bad was about to happen, and fled to the Reagan Shelter underneath their city.

Napalm yawned from her spot at the cave mouth. She was keeping watch while Romance took care of Masquerade. He took solace in the knowledge that he wasn't the only one who had been losing sleep.

'How's she doing?' Napalm asked. Romance couldn't see her face, but he knew she was concerned.

He looked over at their barely conscious friend. Masquerade lay with the back of her hand on her face. A groan escaped her dry lips followed by a terse, 'She is awake, thank you very much.'

'You're an idiot,' Romance told her. 'I told you to leave the bag.'

'My necklace was in there. It was the only thing I had left from home.'

Home.

Romance didn't want to think about the time when he and Masquerade were actually happy. Or as happy as they could be, anyway. He used to be jealous that she still had something from the house they owned together; all he had was the clothes on his back.

At least they didn't have to pay their mortgage anymore.

Napalm's head jerked. 'Did you hear that?'

'Hear what?' Romance asked, then glared when she held up a finger.

They listened, and sure enough above them was the shuffling sound of feet against rock. Someone was climbing down the cliff.

Make that two someones.

Napalm mimed zipping her lips and crawled out of the cave. Romance watched her disappear from sight before turning his gaze back on Masquerade.

How did she hear that? He mouthed to her. She looked at him with tired eyes and shook her head.

From outside came a blast against rock, and a cry.

'Watch where you're shooting!'

They exchanged glances. That was a woman's voice – angry and hoarse, but definitely human. Not whatever those masked men were.

Napalm ducked back into the cave. 'Get the bags; we're leaving.'

Romance nodded and slung both of the duffels over his shoulders. Napalm grabbed Masquerade by the hand and hoisted her to her feet. Romance walked backwards out of the cave; gun trained on a spot just above his field of view.

When he stepped out from the shelter, he saw two women sat atop the miniscule ledge that formed the cave roof. One was a ginger girl wearing a green beanie, and the other a brunette who wore the worst combination of leopard-print and fishnets he had ever seen, and why was she wearing combat boots?

Something must have shown on his face, because Leopard-Print barked a sharp, 'Quit staring, creep.'

'Not sure how I'm the creep,' he said, his gun still pointed at the woman's face. 'You two are the ones crawling 'round our base.'

Beanie pointed to the top of the cliff. Romance squinted to see the edge but saw nothing out of the ordinary. 'We were trying to get away from them.'

'I don't see anyone,' he told her.

'Well obviously,' Leopard-Print snapped. 'We were about a mile ahead of them! Now please let us hide!'

'We won't all fit,' came Masquerade's too-sweet voice.

Romance looked back to his friends; Napalm was supporting Masquerade out of the cave. They both had their ray guns in their hands with their fingers ready on the trigger. Napalm's expression was grim, but Masquerade just looked amused.

'You're delirious,' Romance told her. 'Nothing about this situation is funny.'

'I think it's hilarious,' she answered. 'You can finally leave this cave, and I can watch us get murdered by vampires.'

Napalm rolled her eyes. 'They're not vampires, Masque.'

'Draculoids,' Beanie said, her voice barely above a whisper. 'That's what they're called.'

'Good to know,' Romance muttered. 'At least now we know what to call the things you've brought to us.'

Leopard-Print jumped down from the ledge and marched up to him. She bared her teeth as she loomed over. 'We didn't know there was anyone here, short stuff.'

'Well,' Masquerade sang. 'They do.'

Romance looked past Leopard-Print to see Masquerade pointing off to the distance. He followed her finger but couldn't see anything past the horizon. 'Are you hallucinating?'

'Shocking, but no. There are two vans; they're camouflaged.'

He knew he wasn't the only one staring at her, but he was still annoyed that she actually surprised him. 'How on earth did you know that?'

'Yeah,' Leopard-Print said. 'We've learnt all we could about BLI's tech, but this is the first I've heard about camo.'

Masquerade shook Napalm off and pulled herself onto the ledge. 'I'll tell you later, Romance.' She cradled her gun in both hands, peering down the sight. After a short moment to adjust, she pulled the trigger.

There was an explosion, which must have been one of the vans she mentioned. All Romance knew was that he was never letting her out of his sight again. He turned back and saw both Napalm and Leopard-Print gaping at her.

'You just took out an invisible van,' Beanie whispered. 'With one shot!'

'Not invisible; just camouflaged.'

'What's the difference?' Leopard-Print asked.

'See the way the light is shining? When the sun hits it, you can see the reflection. It's like it's made out of mirrors.'

Beanie whistled. 'Do it again.'

Napalm scowled at them. 'We should be leaving. We don't know how many people are chasing us, and what do we do when we run out of battery? Besides,' she turned to the two newcomers. 'We don't even know your names.'

'I'm Synthetic Flame,' Beanie told them.

'Crash Poison,' said Leopard-Print.

'I'm Napalm Erotica,' Napalm sighed. 'These are my friends, Electrifying Romance, and Black Masquerade.'

'Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate,' Masquerade muttered, gesturing at the three of them with her gun.

'Watch where you're pointing that thing,' Romance said.

She shrugged and turned back to fire again. Something that she saw made her pause and curse under her breath.

Romance looked back out and saw a white-and-black van slowing to a stop fifty metres away. He tried taking it out but only succeeded in burning a hole in the door. 'We're screwed.'

'Get up here,' Masquerade demanded, holding out her hand. 'We're gonna be here a while.'

Romance didn't take it. He watched in horror as three vampire-masked men (Draculoids) climbed out of the front seats, and fifteen more exit the back. They were vastly outnumbered, tired, and weak.

'Romance!' Masquerade shouted. Behind her mask, her eyes were wide and frantic. 'I need your help!'

He swallowed and grabbed hold of her hand, letting her pull him on top of the ledge. They flinched as a ray grazed the tip of Masquerade's feather. Next to them, Flame had stood and was firing wildly at the draculoids. Her hands shook violently.

He took a deep breath and aimed a shot and fired. He missed a draculoid by an inch and was rewarded by Masquerade's cry of pain. He didn't have the time to see where she had been hit, so he prayed that it wasn't anywhere vital.

Another shout – this time it was from Flame. Instinct made him look, and he watched with dread as she slipped from the ledge and cracked her head on the ground below.

'FLAME!' Crash screamed, dragging her into the cave. Romance could hear worried tones underneath his feet.

'Masque,' he managed, finally catching sight of his friend. His heart dropped as he took in the sight; her hand clutched a scorched hole in her jacket just below her navel. He couldn't see her expression properly, but he could see the veins in her hand.

'We're not gonna die here, Romance,' she told him weakly as she took out another draculoid. 'I won't let it happen.'

'Look after Flame,' he answered.

She climbed down without argument, leaving him alone on the ledge. There were still thirteen draculoids left, and his gun's battery was almost dead. He barely hung onto hope. He was exhausted, and hungry, and weak. Any moment now, and one of the rays would actually hit him.

In the end, they were saved by luck. Romance called it divine intervention.

Reinforcements arrived in the form of a Pontiac Firebird. There were two men – one driver, who ran straight through the crowd of draculoids like they were nothing, and a passenger who killed the remaining seven with one shot each.

Crash and Napalm helped Romance down from the ledge. He took stock of their injuries. Flame and Masquerade were both unconscious, and Crash had been shot in the shoulder. Somehow, he and Napalm had both made it through the battle without being hit.

He didn't let himself dwell too much on that. Not when Masquerade was in a dire state, and their saviours were making their way over to them.

Crash's jaw dropped. 'Holy shit.'

And Romance understood why. Really, he got it. Because he and Masquerade had been running for months trying to get to the Killjoy base.

And Jet Star and the Kobra Kid had delivered themselves to the group as if they had been sent by angels.