Thank you to the awesome YouTubers who submitted their characters. You guys are the best! Your characters will show up in the next chapter. If anyone else still wants to submit a Killjoy character, PM me.

In all honesty, though, I'm seriously losing interest in this story and am probably going to ditch it within the next few chapters. I'll try to wrap it up nicely though…

And there's a plot twist coming right away in this chapter that comes out of nowhere. And you should know, it literally came out of nowhere. Made up on the spot because I needed something exciting to happen… so I don't know how this is going to affect things…

Well, here goes.

June 10, 2019

Dawn seeps through the dirty window in Missile's room. From my blankets crumpled on the floor, I gaze into the early sunlight for a few minutes. I am unable to see anything through it and yet… it's captivating. I can't stop looking at the hazy rays of light. Dawn just has that effect on me; it's like a visualization of a beginning. And every beginning, of course, can only get bigger and grander. Potential. That's the word to describe it.

After what seems like a second (but was probably at least ten minutes) I hear Missile moan awake. From the dirty mattress beside me, she smiles when she sees that my eyes are open.

"Good morning, Angel," she murmurs.

"Good morning, Missile. How'd you sleep? Any good dreams?"

She smiles. "I always dream. And when I dream, I sleep well. Anything with a dream is good."

More wise words from the Missile Kid. That girl is well beyond her years. I sit up and smile at her. "Are you hungry?"

She nods. "Uh huh. Will you make me breakfast?"

"Sure thing, kiddo."

Standing up, I hold my arms out and then cross them over my head, inhaling.

"What are you doing?" Missile asks sleepily.

"Yoga. It's basically stretching. It just helps me wake up a little. I'll go make breakfast now."

"Okay."

I make zero effort to be quiet as I roam the kitchen for food, keeping with my policy of giving zero fucks before ten in the morning. I throw open the cupboards, hoping for cereal but willing to settle for just about anything with carbs… wait. Last night's crackers. Yesssss… crackers.

The box is exactly where I left it last night: on the counter by the stove. I'm surprised at myself as I lunge for it; I'm really not that hungry. It's just that I FUCKING NEED THOSE CRACKERS. Suddenly crackers are just my best friend in the whole world. Before I know it, most of the box is gone. Shit. What am I going to feed Missile now? Oh well, I'll think of something… right now I just fucking need mayonnaise. Forget crackers. Mayo is my new love.

I don't even have time to open the fridge when my stomach lurches. It is at that moment that I realize two things:

I do not know where the bathroom is;

And HOLY SHIT I'M PREGNANT.

I throw up into the kitchen sink, with my hair getting strains of vomit in it. Oh, perfect. I cough up all I can, then rinse. By the time my mouth is fully clear of vomit, the sink is clear too.

Well, this is wonderful. I sigh as I tug my hair out of its ponytail, gather it in my hands, and lean into the sink to wash it. As I lather it with dish soap, I ponder the scariest question in my life:

Am I pregnant?

I did fuck that guy right before I left home the other day. But we used protection! But I have morning sickness… and who on Earth craves crackers and mayonnaise at any time of day, let alone six in the morning? Fuck. I wish I could get my hands on a pregnancy test. If I am preggers, I probably shouldn't be going on raids anymore. And no more cigarettes or beer. Oh crap, I did all of those yesterday! Will that affect my child at all?

I'm just rinsing my hair as I hear someone enter the kitchen.

"Grab me a towel," I command whoever it was, my voice surprisingly strong.

Whoever it laughs and says "Good morning to you too," as they disappear into the back of the diner. I'm not sure who it was, but I kind of think it was Poison.

He returns a moment after, giving me the towel by throwing it on my head.

"Thanks," I say without a hint of sarcasm. Quite an accomplishment. I wrap my hair in it, turban-style. Turning around, I see that I was correct—it is Poison.

Utilizing every calming technique I know, I paste a slight smile on my face and ask, "What are you doing up so early?" He must have just gotten up—his hair is a mess and in place of his usual tight clothes and leather, he's wearing wrinkled plaid pyjama pants and a soft black tee. Adorable.

"Coffee." He motions to a coffee maker on the corner counter. Making his way over to it, he asks, "So what are you up to?"

I laugh nervously. I'm still not one hundred percent sure I'm preggers, and I don't want to cause any unnecessary stress on anyone…. "Breakfast," I say simply.

He turns around from the coffee maker and raises an eyebrow. "Crackers?"

"Um, yeah. Carbs are a pretty important thing to have in the morning…" I have no clue if it's true or not, and I'm counting on him not knowing either.

He shrugs and goes back to the coffee. "OK, whatever." His back still turned, he asks, "So why is your head in my kitchen sink?"

"Um, I don't know where the bathrooms are. And my hair was really gross." Both complete truths.

"Oh, Missile didn't show you on her grand tour yesterday? There's one—or two I guess, men's and women's—in the back, in the little hallway off the left side right before the back door. And there's another two over there—" He points vaguely—"on the other side of the room."

"Okay, thanks. So, um, is anyone else up yet?" I ask. "I'd like to get going as soon as possible."

Shrugging again, he says, "No idea. They'll wake up when they do." He comes over and leans on the counter beside me. "I'd like to get going too, though. It's about three hours to Dr. Death's place from here. How much farther is it to your hideout?"

"'Bout an hour and a half. It's not a difficult drive or anything."

"Oh, so we've got plenty of time then." He smiles.

I nod. "Yeah, but I like to have a super-tight, clockwork schedule. I get the impression that you guys are a little more flexible with your time, so I need to factor that into the schedule I've got worked out in my head…"

He laughs. "You can let loose, you know. The world won't fall apart—well, won't fall apart any more than it already has—while you enjoy life. It's not all bad. Smell the roses once in a while, you know?"

I smile half-heartedly. "Well, I try. But whenever I relax, something always seems to come up." My hand flutters to my stomach, seemingly of its own accord.

He pays it no attention. "Then take control. Nobody controls your life except for you. You have the power."

I laugh. "So I'm supposed to force myself into relaxation then? That sounds effective…"

"You're right," he chuckles. "But still, think about it."

He checks the coffee machine. "Oh good, it's done." He turns around and opens the cupboard behind him. "Want a cup?"

Is it okay to have coffee? Better play it safe. "No thanks. I, um, think I'm going to go chill outside for a while. You know, smell the roses or whatever. Enjoys nature's beauty."

I wander to the washrooms in the back, finding them exactly where Poison told me they'd be, begging the question of how I hadn't noticed them before. Both the men's and women's doors look like they belong in a shady gas station. Hoping it doesn't smell as bad as it looked, I push open the women's room door.

I breathe a sigh of relief, happy that it is, in fact, breathable in there. And I relive myself in peace knowing that it is not horrible gross in here. What IS disgusting, though, is my appearance. I groan at the mirror, seeing my clothes wrinkled and stained. They smell even worse. My eye makeup is smudged all over my cheeks, and red lipstick is crackled around my mouth. I don't even have that glow that you're supposed to get when you're pregnant. Ugh.

There's a bit of paper towel in the dispenser, so I wet it and wipe my face clean. Though I realize it's vain, I can't help but gaze into my reflection for a moment. I like how I look without makeup. It's a clear face that looks innocent.

But I'm not innocent. I'm dirty and a liar, and most of all, a fighter. I simply cannot go around with such a sweet face.

I run back to Missile's room—she's still rolled up in her thin blanket—and rummage through my bag to find my makeup. It's a little orange bag with blue stars… yes, there it is.

Just as I'm about to head back into the ladies' room door, Jet pushes out of the men's.

He jumps a little. "Good morning," he chuckles a second later. "You startled me! I forgot you were here."

I pretend to be upset. "You mean I'm that forgettable?"

"With that hair? No. It's just we're not used to having guests."

Why does everyone knock my hair? I go to smooth it back, but my hands meet rough cloth instead. Huh? Oh, it's just the towel. I'm not really used to the concept of clean hair or towels anymore.

Realizing I must look like a retard feeling my toweled hair, I neutralize my awkwardness with a witty remark: "Yeah, my towel hair is the envy of Zone 2."

He smirks. "I bet. I wrap my hair up the same way after the rare moment that I get to shower, and the guys always laugh at me for it."

"Aww!" I laugh. "But the towel helps it dry so much faster! They just don't understand. Short hair freaks."

He nods in humoured agreement. "All right, I gotta go before Poison drinks the whole pot of coffee."

"Sure. Do you know if Ghoul and Kobra are up yet?"

He shrugs as he starts to walk away. "I'll wake them up if they're not up by the time I'm done my coffee, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you," I smile as he leaves and I push open the ladies' room door.

Smudging on the perfect amount of purple and black eye makeup is fast and easy, but it takes me a frustrating quarter hour to get it clean under the hand blow-drying thing. Plus it makes my hair really frizzy. But my bristle brush manages to tame it, and I put my hair into its proper place—long bangs bordering my face with a few extra locks hanging off my shoulders, and the rest pulled into a high side ponytail.

When I walk into the dining area, I'm pleased to see all four boys and Missile there. I stand in the doorway for a moment, watching the tableau: Poison and Kobra chatting quietly by the coffee machine, each with a mug in hand; Jet sitting at one of the tables, eating breakfast as he flips through a magazine; and Ghoul and Missile in the far corner, with Missile chatting her friend's ear off as he polishes a gun. It's a very peaceful scene, and once again I see them as a big family. It makes me long for my own family, way out in Zone 2.

Ghoul notices me first. "Well good morning, sunshine," He says.

Immediately, Missile rushes over to me and grasps me in a tight hug. "Angel!"

I laugh and tousle her hair. "Good morning, sweetie. You seem hyper today."

She pulls back and winks at me. "I'm hyper every day." Suddenly, her face crumples in thought. "Angel… you seem different. Are you feeling okay?"

My expression immediately falls, and a pit forms in my stomach. "Um, yeah, I'm fine."

Ghoul must have been watching, because he immediately makes his way over, saying, "No, I think you're lying. Your face changed when she asked you that."

By now the others have taken notice too. I tell everyone's concerned faces, "Guys, I'm fine. I swear." Unconsciously, I take a step back. Oh my god, why do they have to make such a big deal out of this? I feel tears coming on.

"Just leave me alone," I say as I turn on my heel and head out back.

Grabbing my arm, Ghoul pulls me back. "Hey, we're just trying to help, okay?"

"Just let me go!" I yell, angry. I try to yank my arm away, but his grip is too strong.

Humorlessly, he lets out a laugh. "Are you PMSing or something?"

"LET ME GO!" I scream at him. Tears stream down my cheeks.

"Come on, let her go," Missile urges to Ghoul, trying unsuccessfully trying to push him away.

"Just tell me what's wrong!" He says simply.

"Fine!" I yell. "I'm pregnant. I am fucking PREGNANT." Ghoul immediately jerks back, releasing my arm. I look around the room, taking in the shocked faces. "What, nothing to say?"

Trying to be calm, Poison says, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fucking sure. I slept with a guy last week. I have all the symptoms. Weird cravings? Yep, crackers and mayonnaise for breakfast. Morning sickness? There's a reason I washed my hair this morning. And check it out! I'm a fucking emotional WRECK. I am FUCKING PREGNANT."

Each one of them has a different reaction. Missile looks a little frightened, but excited; Ghoul takes a few steps back, looking like he still doesn't believe me; Jet has his head in his hands, still sitting at the table; incredibly, Kobra looks happy; and Poison—Poison is mad.

"Well that's fucking perfect. Just fucking perfect." He yells.

"What do you mean by that?" I challenge.

He takes a few steps over. "I mean pregnancy is a liability. You can't run or fight Dracs in such a condition!" He steps even closer. "And then when the child comes, how are you going to protect it, huh? This wasteland is no place to raise a kid."

"Maybe I'll move to Canada," I argue. "Things are still pretty calm up there."

Ghoul pushes us apart. "Okay, okay you two. Calm down a sec, okay?"

I glare at Poison a second longer, then storm out the back. "Where are you going?" Someone yells.

"I'm leaving," I yell over my shoulder. "Going back to my base."

I'm almost out the door when I feel arms around my waist.

"Don't leave," Missile wimpers.

I hate to hurt her, but… "I'm sorry, Missile." I remove her arms from around me and head out the door.

I don't look back.