Guys, I can't believe it. Omg. I'm turning this in for a grade at school :DDD
My teacher noticed I was always writing and that I wrote little notes about it on the sides of some article we were supposed to be annotating so she basically told me to turn it in for an upcoming creative writing assignment, and she'd read the whole thing and grade it...I can't wait to see how this goes x3 I'm gonna be rushing to finish as much of it as I can by April 24!
but anyway here's the chap :D As always, please R&R!
CHAPTER 17: WE'RE NOT THE ONES WHO'RE MEANT TO FOLLOW
July 28, 2013
A Motel, Somewhere out in the Mojave Desert, California
11:58 AM
"Stay back!" the taller dark-haired boy gasped out, throwing his hands out in front of the pair as if to protect them from the pair. "W-we're armed!"
"But I don't want to hurt you!" Phoenix exclaimed. All the same, he didn't move forward.
Mike came up behind his friend, peering over the shorter man's shoulder. "Phi? What's up?" he asked, confused.
A weird look of recognition passed over the shorter boy's face. "Hey, aren't you Mike Shinoda?" he questioned.
The taller boy, who still had his arms out in some odd gesture of defense, cocked his head to one side and peered at the older Asian man. "It is," he murmured in surprise.
The emcee frowned and pushed past Phoenix to get a better view. "Who are you, what are you doing in this motel and how the fuck do you know my name?" he demanded.
The boys dropped their arms, adopting more unassuming poses once they'd identified the intruders as not a threat. "You're from Xero," the shorter one said.
"Yeah, we all are," Mike said impatiently. "Why do you care?"
"We were at your show last night," the taller told them. "We were fans before Day Zero, but we went back to the city to see you and recruit…"
"Recruit for what?" the Asian nearly yelled, his frustration nearly boiling over.
"The Killjoys," the two said in sync.
Rob entered the building just at that point, stopping behind Mike to take in the scene. "Who the hell are you?" he gawked at the teenage boys.
The taller one sighed. "Just call me Gerard and him Frank," he informed them. "We're here to make a broadcast for the Killjoy radio show, so can you just hold off on the whole confrontation thing for five minutes?"
"What the fuck is a Killjoy?" Mike called, but Gerard and Frank had gone behind the run-down reception desk and slipped pairs of headphones over their ears.
Gerard held up one finger as he clicked a button and adjusted the microphone attached to his headset before saying, "Poison and Ghoul, checking in for the noon report."
"Hope everyone's stayed safe," Frank added in.
Gerard nodded. "Us two just found out about rock station 103.5 getting dissolved…that was a total blow. We fucking loved that station. We're still not exactly sure why—our connection cut while we were coming out here—but we caught the part about the station being bad for Battery City society or whatever…"
"Fuck that," Frank muttered. "BL/ind is taking this all way too far. I'm glad we got out in time, before this whole thing explodes like I know it's going to. They can't keep you all under submission that much longer, can they?"
"I dunno, Ghoul, they're pretty damn convincing," Gerard said bitterly.
"Take it any further and they'll have to start using mind control on Battery City," Frank muttered.
The five members of Xero stood in the doorway, shocked, confused and astounded as they watched Frank and Gerard talk. They continued for a few more minutes, sarcastically discussing the possibilities for further control over Battery City and criticizing Better Living the whole time. Finally, Gerard ended their broadcast with "Killjoys, make some noise!" and shut off the computer.
"Nice job," Frank commented, slapping Gerard a high-five. The pair smiled before turning to leave and seeming to remember that there were five men waiting for their explanation blocking their exit.
"You hate Better Living?" Mike asked shortly.
Gerard nodded tentatively, gauging the older man's reaction.
The Asian smirked. "Then we can trust you."
His words seemed to reassure the teenage boys, because all of a sudden, they opened up at the same time, their words spilling out and overlapping, mixing together into one complicated but just-understandable explanation. Xero was able to tell that they had recently joined the mysterious organization known as the Killjoys, a group of rebellious anti-Better Living ex-Battery City civilians who were now living in the desert, running an illegal radio station. Best of all, the group seemed to be recruiting.
After Frank and Gerard's drawn-out conversation, Mike only had one question:
"Where do we sign up?"
Gerard and Frank exchanged confused glances, obviously surprised by the rapper's sudden request. "Well, I dunno, we're not really supposed to lead complete strangers out to the headquarters…" Frank said doubtfully.
"But we're not!" Mike said passionately. "We're Xero, anti-government rock band! You were at our show last night, right? Do you really think we'd sell you out to BL/ind after that?"
"Well, no, but still—"
"Then what are you waiting for?" the emcee exclaimed.
Gerard smiled cautiously, pushing past them and opening the door. "If you're sure…"
"Oh, believe me, we are," Mike assured him as the men piled into their separate vehicles.
The desert had never seemed more alive than it did during that drive from the Motel 6 to wherever it was the mysterious Killjoy headquarters were located. Rob suspected it was because of the lack of color in Battery City, but the area was seemingly more beautiful than the last time the five men had left it. The drive, thankfully, didn't take too long—only about half an hour—but the entire band was anxious and excitable as the vehicle raced through the desert after Frank and Gerard's car.
In the Trans-Am that the two boys drove, the mood was explosive. Frank and Gerard both spoke a mile a minute. Neither could help but draw parallels to their own journey to join the Killjoys—the meeting at the Motel, the short drive back to the warehouse, and the (hopeful) acceptance of the new recruits…
And then there was the fact that those recruits were, in fact, one of their favorite local bands.
"Are they seriously Xero?" Gerard asked, shocked. "Like, the rock band?" He glanced in the rearview mirror at the van behind them in disbelief.
"Well, he said he was Mike Shinoda and that they were all from Xero," Frank commented.
"But they want to be Killjoys," the older boy elaborated.
Frank laughed happily. "Isn't it awesome?"
"Fuck yeah, it is!" Gerard grinned, turning his gaze back to stare out the windshield at the desert in front of them as the warehouse began to appear over the horizon. The two teens shared a devious smile, and the older stomped on the gas pedal, bringing them closer to their base.
Xero's van pulled up in front of the warehouse only a few seconds after the Trans Am did. Gerard and Frank ran straight over to the guys as they piled out of the van like overeager tour guides, anxious to begin their explanation.
"So this is where we all live—there are seven of us," Gerard started. "It's me, Frank, my brother Mikey and our friend Ray—"
"And Mike, he's really smart, and Tré who's sort of crazy and Billie, he's like the unofficial leader cause it was his idea. They were the original three, we just joined up a couple months ago," Frank completed for his friend. "I think they're all in there right now…"
"Can we just go in?" Phoenix, who was highly excitable at the moment, asked anxiously. His statement was met with various noises of agreement from his band mates.
Gerard and Frank led the five men to the warehouse's massive double doors, still talking away, and pushed them open with a shove. They swung inwards with a creak and a blast of stale air to reveal a gigantic dark room inside.
"Gerard? Frank? That you?" an older male voice called out.
"Yeah, we're back, Billie," Gerard answered, walking inside confidently. Frank motioned to Xero to follow him in.
As he stepped inside the open space, Mike's eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness and he could make out the shape of five figures coming to congregate around Gerard, Frank and his band. Their faces quickly became visible. Three looked to be a year or two older than him, and the two others seemed about sixteen or seventeen. All of them were regarding him and his friends with curiosity.
"Aren't you guys Xero?" the curly-haired teenage boy piped up, peering at them more closely.
Rob nodded, but before he could speak up, Frank burst out "Not only that, they all want to join!"
"No shit?" one of the older men said. He stood in front of the other four as if he was some sort of leader, and he assessed them speculatively, sizing the five men up.
Mike nodded. "No shit. BL/ind fucking ruined our lives. If you're protesting them, then we're all for it."
"I think you'd better explain," the man said. "Come in."
The group stepped into the circle of light shed by a single lamp in the center of the area, and the Killjoys sat down on the floor. Xero exchanged wary glances before following their example.
"Tell us everything," the raven-haired man requested.
So Mike did. He started from Day Zero and told the seven men everything, omitting absolutely nothing about their time in the desert, their struggle to get the club up and running again, their first and only gig, and finally the terrible confrontation with Better Living that morning. The group of Killjoys listened attentively, Gerard and Frank quiet for the first time since Mike had met them. No one talked until his entire story was over.
Then the black-haired leader spoke up. "That's quite a story you've got," he said seriously.
"It does sound kind of out there, but I swear it's all true," the Asian emcee promised.
The older man regarded them for a moment speculatively, looking at the band as if making a decision. Then a broad smile split his face. "I'm Billie Joe Armstrong, aka Doctor Death Defying. Welcome to the Killjoys." He held out his hand to Mike.
The rapper grinned and took it. "Mike Shinoda. Thank you."
Billie introduced the other four Killjoys as Tré, Mikey, Ray and Mike D. ("Now we've got three Mikes, this could get complicated," the older Killjoy mentioned wryly.) Ray and Mikey offered to join Gerard and Frank in showing Xero around the warehouse, which Billie quickly agreed to.
"Me and Mike have got to run—we're just visiting Battery City cause we're running low on food," he explained. "If we're not back, assume the Dracs got us and we're dead. Gerard's in charge."
"Hey! I'm older!" Tré protested.
"But Gerard actually has a brain," Billie told his friend, grinning. Tré jumped up from the floor, looking like he was ready to protest, but the raven-haired man made a dash for the door before Tré could catch him.
"Was he serious about the dying part?" Brad whispered to Frank as the older pair left.
Frank laughed. "Not really. I don't think BL/ind knows about us yet, so we should be fine for now, but there's always a chance…"
"Was that meant to be reassuring?" the guitarist murmured to his boyfriend as Frank walked over to join Gerard. "Because it kind of wasn't…"
But Phoenix, like Mike, Rob and Joe, was watching Gerard and Ray raptly as they talked about life as a Killjoy.
"We mainly run a radio station from the Motel, so you guys will have to pick codenames for that later. There are announcements at eight AM, noon and eight PM each day, so we take turns, and we either hang out here or patrol the desert when we're not," Gerard explained. "Oh, and we do weekly missions to Batter City to check if BL/ind's done anything drastic and to get food and shit."
"And the recruiting trips," Ray piped up.
The black-haired boy nodded. "Yeah, we try to find opportunities to recruit too. Like last night, Frank and I were actually at your concert to find recruits and tell people about the radio station…we didn't really get any—"
"There was that one girl," Frank reminded him.
At this, Gerard's cheeks turned a pale pink color, and he smiled lightly. "She said she'd think about it, that's not the same thing. Anyway, we try to do that, too. And that's really all…"
"Doesn't sound like a lot," Joe commented.
"It's really not," Ray cut in. "I mean Billie started the whole thing what, six months ago? We're still not sure exactly what it's gonna turn out to be, but for now, it's the best alternative to living in Battery City. At least there's no Better Living Industries out here."
This, at least, was something Xero could agree with. They all nodded fervently.
"Plus, we've at least got a house-type-thing," Frank added.
Rob laughed at this stumbling explanation. "So we all live in here?"
"It's the home base," the younger boy confirmed. "This first level down here is where everything happens, kinda like a common area or whatever, but we've got ten rooms upstairs that we use for bedrooms. I guess we'll have to start doubling up now…"
Brad and Phoenix immediately sprung together as if they were magnets, exclaiming "We will!" at the same time.
Mikey raised an eyebrow. "What's up with you two?"
But the pair was too busy giggling about something together to explain, so Joe laughed awkwardly. "Well, er, funny story…I hope none of you are homophobic?"
"Ohhh!" the teenage boys chorused, and they laughed.
"Nah, that's totally cool," Gerard assured them. "We don't judge each other out here. So you guys can room, and I guess I can move in with you, Frankie?"
"Cool with me," the shorter boy answered.
The teenage boys laughed freely and chatted with Xero as they showed the men around the huge warehouse, pointing out important places like where they kept food, the two as-of-yet unused large rooms on the top floor that they were in the process of clearing out, and the ten rooms lining the second floor that they used as bedrooms. It wasn't much of a top floor, just a railing that jutted out over the large ground-floor area, but it did make a pretty convenient place to put bedrooms.
"We'll have to drive back out to the motel to get beds and shit for you guys—that van of yours will probably help with that," Ray explained. "That's where we got almost everything. It's probably a good thing you guys moved out, cause we kind of stole some of your furniture…"
"Not like there wasn't enough to start with," Rob laughed. "But speaking of the van, we should go bring the instruments inside…"
This statement cut Mike off mid-laugh. Only the drummer noticed as he paused on the way to the door, suddenly remembering the fate of his guitar.
"You okay, Mike?" his best friend asked, concerned.
The emcee swallowed. "I-I'll be fine," he mumbled.
"Sure?"
"Yeah." Mike smiled weakly. "Nothing I can do about it now, right? I can always borrow Brad's guitar…and hey, at least we're out from under BL/ind's control now."
"Yeah, we're lucky we found those two," Rob agreed as they started walking again. Outside, the four teenage Killjoys were helping Joe, Brad and Phoenix unload Rob's drum kit from the back of the van. All four wore a star struck expression, as if they couldn't believe they were actually allowed to touch such important instruments. It was funny to compare them to the rest of Xero, who were banging around noisily as they dropped amps from the back of the van to the desert sand.
"I can get your guitar, Mike," Rob offered, not wanting his friend to become upset by the sight again.
Mike sighed. "Nah, it's fine," he responded before clambering into the back of the van where the fragmented instrument lay on the worn-out vinyl seat.
Tenderly, Mike lifted his broken guitar out of the vehicle, cradling it as if it was a newborn baby. Functional or not, it was still his most precious possession. He knew there was an almost nonexistent chance of it ever getting fixed, but still he couldn't help but hope.
Gerard caught sight of the instrument first as Mike exited the van. He paused as he was rolling the bass drum to the entrance to question "Hey, what happened to your guitar?"
"One of the BL/ind agents—Draculoids, you called them?—stepped on it when we were trying to get away this morning," Mike said, trying to keep any strong emotion out of his voice.
"Damn," the teenage boy exclaimed. "That sucks! Sorry…"
It was getting harder and harder for Mike to keep passing the loss of his guitar off as no big deal, but somehow, he managed to say "It'll be fine, there's nothing you can do about it."
"We could try to fix it…" Frank said doubtfully.
"I don't think you can," the emcee sighed. "It's pretty busted, isn't it?" His friends made reluctant sounds of agreement.
"You can still sing," Rob reminded him.
Mike nodded. "Thank God for that."
"And you can always borrow mine," Brad offered.
"Thanks," the emcee nodded. He knew it would never be the same, but still, he appreciated his friends' efforts to cheer him up.
Soon, though, the guitar was forgotten in the whirlwind of activity that was bringing their instruments in, driving back out to the motel for mattresses, struggling to get said mattresses upstairs and into their requisite bedrooms, and finally, allowing themselves to just hang out with their new companions.
After setting up their neighboring rooms, Mike, Joe and Rob ventured back downstairs to where Tré and the four teenage boys sat, clustered around a fuzzy old TV. The oldest of the five had commandeered a broken old armchair. Gerard and Frank squished together in the other, and Mikey and Ray were seated cross-legged on the floor. Their attention was half-focused on the show, which looked to be some sort of news program.
"Hey." Mike gave an awkward half-wave. "Um, we're all set up. I don't know where Phi and Brad went, but you might not want to go in their room for a while, just judging by some of the noises…"
"A long while," Joe clarified.
Gerard grinned. "Does that happen a lot?"
"Nah, they're not too bad…I just think they've been missing it, since we were all cooped up in the same club for a while," the Korean man told them. "They can get a bit…horny, sometimes, though…"
"Don't we all?" Tré groaned. "At least they've got each other! There is a serious lack of females in the desert, and I'm getting bored of having to do it myself…"
"Ewww!" everyone chorused. Mike must have pulled some sort of face, because Mikey leaned over to murmur "He's not that bad, I swear, you just have to get used to him…"
"I'll take your word for it," the emcee shuddered.
At seven fifteen, Billie and Mike returned, laden with food and stories of Battery City. "The entire place is swarming with Draculoids," Mike informed them grimly. "I think they're ramping up security."
"Shit, that's never good," Gerard murmured.
"We'll just have to carry on," Billie reassured the group. "And speaking of, who wants to show the new guys how we work the radio station?"
At this, Gerard, Ray, Frank and Mikey all jumped to their feet excitedly with shouts of "I'll do it!" or "Me!" They then turned to look at each other in confusion and hostility.
"Jesus, don't volunteer all at once," the leader muttered. "Maybe Mike, Tré and I should just do it…"
"No!" four shouts rang out.
Billie smirked. "It's so nice to see enthusiasm."
In the end, every single one of the Killjoys—new and old—drove out to the motel to broadcast. Mike, Rob and Joe ended up in their van with Billie, Tré, Mikey and Ray, who informed them that before they made a broadcast, they had to pick Killjoy names. "I was Doctor D, but that somehow got expanded into Doctor Death Defying," Billie grinned. "Tré is Adrenaline, Mikey's Kobra, and Ray is Jet. We've got Revolution, Ghoul and Poison in the other car."
"So it's just random?" Joe laughed.
The four Killjoys exchanged glances. "Basically," Tré confirmed.
"Then I'll be Surgeon," the Korean man said decisively. Rob and Mike glanced at their friend, confused by his sudden assurance.
"What?" Joe shrugged. "It's what I wanted to be before the apocalypse."
"I didn't know that," Rob said wonderingly.
The man shrugged again. "It wasn't important…"
Mike and Rob, however, were much less decisive about their Killjoy aliases. They must have dreamed up thirty different options between them before Rob settled on Wolf.
"Damn, I was gonna take that one," Mike groaned. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" He glanced at his best friend helplessly, imploring him with his eyes.
"What do I look like I should be?" he asked Rob.
"Angel," Rob blurted out before he could stop the word from spilling out. He immediately slapped a hand over his mouth as if he could force it back in, but Mike was already turning the suggestion over in his head, repeating it to test how it sounded.
"Angel," the Japanese man repeated. "Angel. That's actually kind of cool."
"You're not very angelic, though," Joe guffawed.
Mike punched his shoulder. "Just shut up, you."
"You should use that one," Mikey piped up.
The emcee thought about it for a minute before announcing, "I think I will. I'll be Angel."
"Sweet," Rob exclaimed.
As long as Mike never asked why he'd thought of that, he would be fine.
A few minutes later, they pulled up to the motel to find Brad and Phoenix, now dubbed Crash and Detonator, following Mike, Gerard and Frank into the lobby they had left only eight hours ago. None of the new recruits could quite prevent themselves from talking rapidly and excitedly, in anticipation for their introduction onto the airwaves. Finally, Billie pulled on the headset and pressed play.
"Welcome back, Battery City. Doctor Death Defying here. We've got some surprise guests tonight, and I'm sure you'll be hearing a lot more of them in the future, because today, five new members have joined the ranks of the Killjoys." Without a word, he passed the headset to Mike, who nearly dropped it. He stared at the object with a mix of shock and excitement.
"Well, put it on," Billie urged.
So Mike did. He slipped the headphones over his ears and adjusted the mic before glancing back to the leader to confirm what he should do next.
"Just talk," the older man told him.
"Um…" Mike stuttered. "Hey, I'm Mi—I mean Angel. I'm Angel. Me and my best friends joined the Killjoys today because we hate Better Living, and we're still getting the hang of this thing, but hopefully I'll be able to get it sometime soon so I can actually contribute."
He could have said more, but Billie was gesturing at him to pass the headset to Phoenix on his right. Almost reluctantly, the Asian man removed the headphones and gave them to his friend, who greeted the listeners with a cheery "What's up, Battery City?"
It took close to fifteen minutes for all five to introduce themselves and for Billie to finish the announcement, ending it with an upbeat exclamation of "Killjoys, make some noise!" Xero watched, rapt, as the leader turned the computer off and smiled at the eleven men assembled around him.
"That's all there is to it," he announced. "Welcome to the Killjoys."