OMG. Worst Author Ever, I know I know I knowwww ;_; I'm so sorry guys, I'm just so incredibly busy (and incredibly prone to getting sick apparently as well) that I haven't had time till now...at least now it's here?

CHAPTER 25: HOLD ON LITTLE GIRL, THE END IS SOON TO COME

November 30, 2013

Killjoy Headquarters, Zone 4, California

2:47 PM

November 2013 had to be the longest month of Amy Lee's life.

"How is it possible to suck this much at shooting?" Poison groaned, throwing his hands into the air.

"I'm trying!" Amy exclaimed. She stared dejectedly at the green gun. Tomorrow, she would get her own painted by Poison to match her mask as the training month would be finally over, but she still was incapable of hitting the target wall.

"You'll get better soon, Ames," Chester called out from his position leaning against the wall. Poison had ordered him to stand at a far enough distance that he wouldn't 'distract' Amy, but she wasn't sure how the older boy had determined that exact distance. She could still feel his eyes, along with those of Angel and Crash, who were standing with him and chatting, watching as she repeatedly tried and failed to hit the wall.

She perfectly fine at everything else. Over the long, grueling month, she'd learned to operate the radio system and the computer, navigate the wide, empty desert, conduct a safe and productive sweep of Battery City and the Zones, and how to fight Draculoids. Everything had gone smoothly—everything, that is, except the raygun shooting lessons. Amy could not shoot straight for the life of her.

"Maybe I should just give up," she sighed, placing the raygun on the ground. "I'm not going to get better."

"Well, you won't with that attitude," Poison argued. He scooped the weapon back up and held it out to her. She stared at it reluctantly.

"Sooner or later, you're going to have to know how to use it," he said softly. "You'll have to protect yourself…and others."

Amy didn't miss the way his eyes drifted to her stomach, which was swollen beyond belief at this point. She sighed heavily. "Alright. I'll try again."

Chester watched her struggle with the weapon for a few more unsuccessful minutes, before following Angel and Crash to where they'd joined Wolf, Detonator and Surgeon in front of the TV. The five musicians were all raptly watching the screen with grim expressions.

"What's happening?" Chester took a seat next to Angel on the floor, glancing over at his friend curiously.

"More on the uprisings in the North," the Asian muttered. "The old President is gathering the remains of the military. I think they're planning an attack on BL/ind."

"Really?" Chester gawked. He'd known about the situation with the former American President and his closest advisors and Chief of Staff, who had hidden away in a bunker in Utah during the apocalypse. They had only come out of the haven in the past few months, and had immediately tried to rebuild the country. But Better Living Industries had beaten them to it. They already controlled all of California, Nevada and Arizona's survivors, and their influence grew greater with each passing day. The president, of course, wasn't going to let this happen. Or at least, he was trying not to let it happen. BL/ind was proving difficult to overturn, though. The company would not relinquish their grip on the country.

"I hope they get rid of BL/ind," Crash growled. "Maybe this whole mess will finally be over."

"Their army isn't that big," Detonator offered hopefully.

Wolf sighed. "The military is even smaller."

Onscreen, a young adult blandly guided them through a newscast, constantly reiterating that everything was fine and that BL/ind was in complete control of the situation. When the program shifted into a monotone weather report, Surgeon clicked off the TV disinterestedly.

"As long as it doesn't affect us, we can just ignore it," he announced. "There's more important stuff for us to worry about."

Five pairs of eyes shifted to Chester, and he blushed and grinned. "I can't wait for tomorrow," he murmured.

"Did you pick your name yet?" Angel questioned.

The younger nodded. "Amy and I discussed it last night. I was supposed to extend it to two words, right?"

"Everyone else is," Crash chuckled. "Heck, even I did. I'm Gravity Crash now, and he's Detonator Threat. Don't blame us—Adrenaline started it with his raygun obsession."

Chester cracked up at this. Adrenaline, who had fallen in love with the pure black weapon adorned with heart-monitor chart lines, had decided he wanted to change his Killjoy name to reflect it. He had demanded the rest begin to call him Black Adrenaline Raygun, complaining that Doctor Death Defying's name was already longer than everyone else's. Somehow, the trend of extending codenames had become popular.

"Mostly, though, I'm excited for the gun," the boy exclaimed. "Poison—sorry, Party Poison—won't stop talking about what he did for mine and Amy's. His designs keep getting crazier."

"He started doing masks, too, did you see? Doctor DS thinks we should start hiding our faces so BL/ind can't identify us," Detonator piped up.

"Jesus, we're turning into a cult," Surgeon muttered.

The conversation was broken by a loud shout from the other end of the room, and Chester jumped up, immediately protective. But instead, Poison was cheering and patting Amy on the back as the girl glanced form the smoking wall to her hands and back again in astonishment.

"Told you you'd get the hang of it eventually," the black-haired man grinned.

Not long after the group ate dinner, Amy retreated upstairs, telling them she was tired and wanted to be rested for the next day. The men immediately agreed, assuming it was pregnancy-related—something that slightly scared them all since they knew nothing about it. In truth, Amy's stomach was in turmoil and she was unable to hide the pain any longer. She tried the best she could not to worry the guys with her pregnancy problems. Sometimes, though, it just got too hard. Now was one such time.

If her suspicions were correct and it had been the night of her engagement that she got pregnant, then the nine months would be up soon. At least she and Chester had found the safe place they had sought for so long, and the other twelve Killjoys would help to raise and protect the baby. It was actually as good a place as any for her to finally bring her child into the world.

But, as much as she hated to admit it, she was scared.

Amy tried not to over think it that night. Instead, she let her thoughts become consumed by the next day, when she and Chester would officially become Killjoys. Soon enough she was asleep.

Chester came in an hour later. He couldn't help the involuntary smile at the sight of his peacefully sleeping fiancée, curled up silently across the two twin beds they had pushed together. Her black hair fanned out over the pillow, staining the glowing white with a dark patch, and her pale face shone softly in the sparse moonlight provided by the one window. She looked like a graceful angel lying there, a small smile playing at her pink lips and her arms curled around her stomach.

He smiled gently and kissed her forehead. "Sweet sleep, my dark angel," he whispered.

Amy woke early the next day from a combination of a searing ache in her stomach, a loud commotion outside her door and overwhelming excitement from finally reaching the end of the month. She sprang up, waking Chester with a shake.

"Chaz! Today's the day!" she exclaimed brightly.

"Day?" Chester murmured sleepily, blinking. "What…oh! Right!" He grinned and sat up too.

"C'mon, get up!" Amy laughed and seized his hands, tugging, then suddenly winced. Her face contorted into a mask of pain and she fell back onto the bed with a thump.

"What's wrong? Amy!" Chester exclaimed. His hands fluttered frantically, not sure how to help.

Amy held up a hand weakly. "No, I'm fine," she gasped out. "Just a growing pain. It'll pass."

"Are you sure?" He studied her with worry in his eyes.

"Better already," she whispered. She barely suppressed a moan as she gathered her will and stood again, making her way towards the door and forcing a smile onto her face.

Chester followed her out, frowning slightly and still apprehensive, but his fears were forgotten as the door was pushed open. Twelve ecstatic, wide-awake Killjoys waited with massive smiled plastered across their faces. Angel and Wolf immediately came to stand on either side of him, offering grins and handshakes, while a flurry of words surrounded him and his fiancée. Through the commotion he grasped for Amy's hand, finding it and clutching it tightly. Amy squeezed back in reassurance.

"Downstairs," Doctor D managed to shout over the burst of noise. The group began to migrate towards the ladder, laughing and yelling as they followed each other down the thin metal rails. Amy and Chester remained connected even as they descended. Their expressions never once shifted from pure, unadulterated bliss.

Once everyone was on the ground, Doctor D called for quiet, gesturing Chester and Amy to the front of the room. "Alright, this is the first time we're trying this in the history of the Killjoys," the older man announced. "I should probably have written a speech or a pledge or something. But I guess Amy can help me with that later." Amy grinned at his acknowledgement of her love of writing.

"For now, all I can say is I'm so proud of everyone. When me, Revolution and Adrenaline—or back then we were still Billie, Mike and Tré—came up with the idea, we never thought it would work. At least, we assumed it would be some pathetic, insignificant project, that no one would ever hear us. But look at us now—twelve strong and still growing, and apparently we've even gotten the attention of Better Living itself. Even better, we've actually beat them on multiple occasions!"

The group glowed at this. BL/ind had routinely been sending Draculoid patrols into the desert ever since the first incident and the Killjoys had continuously defeated them. They'd become so desensitized to killing the mindless drones by this point that they'd actually started a kill count competition between themselves.

"Because of that, we've had to install some new procedures. We can't just let anyone in anymore like we used to. But Chester and Amy have definitely more than proven themselves trustworthy. We might have had our doubts at first—" at this, Wolf snorted and clapped Chester on the back, grinning widely—"but I think I can say on behalf of us all that we're ready to welcome them into the Killjoys, and into our family."

Doctor Death Defying—or Billie, as Chester and Amy now knew him by—cleared his throat awkwardly. "I don't have a set routine for how to do this. Maybe we'll figure it out for next time. But for now, Chester, what's your chosen Killjoy name?"

"Ghost Revolver," Chester informed him, smiling. He'd thought long and hard about it, and the combination of his progress with rayguns and the memory of those he and Amy had lost on Day Zero led him to his new moniker.

"Good one," Billie said approvingly. "Chester Bennington, do you swear loyalty to the Killjoys and to rebel against Better Living Industries as well as you can and as long as you can?"

"Yeah, I do," the brunette nodded.

"Then I, Doctor Death Defying, name you Ghost Revolver and hereby induct you into the Killjoys," the raven-haired man announced solemnly, turning to Poison. "Gerard, the gun?"

Gerard stepped forward and held out two objects. One was an eye mask similar to those most of the rebels already wore, pitch-black with a white five-point star painted around the left eye hole. The other was the long-awaited raygun.

"Whoa," Chester breathed, reaching for the ebony weapon. It was black as the night sky except for the starburst of white paint splattered onto each side of the body. His fingers curled around the trigger, testing the feel of the gun in his grip. It fit into his palm exactly as if it had been made to fit there.

He looked up at Gerard in awe. "This is amazing," he whispered reverently. "It's perfect."

"I thought you'd like it," Gerard shrugged, grinning.

Chester turned the raygun over in his hands a few more times, seemingly content with staring at it until he had memorized every facet of the surface, but Billie cleared his throat.

"Amy, what's your Killjoy name?" he questioned.

The girl looked up at him, seeming to be startled out of some thought or preoccupation. "Oh, right," she murmured. Her words came out oddly strained, as if she was fighting back against something as she spoke.

"Are you okay?" Mike D asked concernedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she assured the group. "My Killjoy name. Right. It's Sc—Scream—shit!"

And with that, Amy collapsed to the floor in a puddle of liquid that was steadily gathering beneath her form.

"Oh my God!" Chester dropped to his knees next to his fiancée, Billie, Gerard and Joe crowding around the pair soon after. "Amy! Amy! Oh my fucking God, what's wrong with her?"

"Her water must have broken!" Joe exclaimed, quickly switching into medic mode. "We have to get her upstairs and into bed right now, before anything else happens!"

"What do you mean, before anything else happens?" Chester wailed. "What's happening?"

"The baby's coming," Joe replied grimly.

The group drew in a collective gasp. Amy's eyelids fluttered, and a low groan escaped her lips. She writhed on the ground, still unconscious but obviously in pain. Chester stared at his desperate fiancée helplessly.

"What do we do?" Gerard asked frantically.

"We have to get her into a bed before she starts her contractions," Joe ordered. "Believe me, I've been reading about it. The more comfortable we can make her, the better. There's not much we can do except be there for support…"

Mike, Rob, Gerard and Billie all moved toward the girl's form, but Chester waved them away, stooping down to tenderly scoop Amy into his own arms. "Help me up the ladder," he grunted, staggering under her extra weight.

After a torturous climb upstairs, Amy was finally laid down on her own bed and was slowly coming to. Just as her eyes slid completely open, an ear-piercing scream broke the air, and her body convulsed, her hands clutching at nothing and her irises flickering into the back of her head.

"Amy!" Chester yelled. He seized one of her fists. "Look at me, Amy! You're alright, darling, I'm right here!"

Sweat shone on the young girl's face as she panted heavily, her breathing fast and labored. She managed to force herself to stare into her fiancé's eyes with difficulty.

"That's it, love!" Chester encouraged. "Just stay focused on me. Forget everything else! Just look at me. Amy, I love you. Amy, you're going to be fine."

"Hurts…Chaz…" Amy groaned.

"I know it does," he whispered. Silent tears began to form in the corners of his eyes. "I know, love. I'm so sorry."

"Is there anyone else she's close to that we can bring here? A female relative, a friend? The more support she gets, the better," Joe suggested quietly.

Chester nodded without breaking his gaze. "There's a burned-out college on top of a cliff, five miles north of Battery City. Go to the convenience store and ask for Adrienne Nesser."

Joe turned to the group at large. "He can't go, obviously. I can't because I'm the only one that knows jackshit about giving birth. Somebody needs to go, and now."

The Killjoys exchanged nervous glances. All of them wanted to help, of course, but they didn't want to leave Amy, for all of them had grown very fond of the girl over the course of the month. They all wanted to be there for her in case her condition worsened.

Finally, Billie cleared his throat. "I'll go," he volunteered, stepping forward.

Joe frowned. "Are you sure? You're the leader…"

"Which is why I should be the one to do this," the oldest man said. "Mike, you're in charge while I'm gone." The sandy-haired man nodded.

"Good luck, stay safe, and for God's sake keep her alright." Billie couldn't allow a shred of the fear he held for Amy to show as he exited.

"I'll try my best," Joe muttered, dashing to Amy's side. "Guys, I'm going to need your cooperation. This won't be easy."

"Whatever you need us to do," Gerard agreed. Chester had zoned out, seemingly lost in his own little world with only him and Amy. At least he was keeping her partly occupied.

"Mikey, get me the laptop. Gerard and Frank, my medical kit and whatever medicine you can find in the warehouse. Brad and Phoenix, this won't make you happy, but I need you to take the van and check the hotel and gas station for anything at all that will help. Medicine, bandages, ice packs, I don't care. Anything that will help."

The five men rushed from the room without complaint. They knew enough not to argue or linger—Amy's life was too important to jeopardize.

"I'm gonna have to ask you guys to leave," Joe said apologetically, gesturing to the rest of his group. "We're gonna have to get her clothes off, and as much as we all care about her, we can't really ask her if she'd want you here. It's safer if you go. Chester, of course, you can stay."

Chester didn't acknowledge the comment as the rest of the men filed out of the room, still focusing all his attention on the sweaty, shivering figure atop the bed. He spared one distracted smile for Ray ion response to the curly-haired man's reassuring but worried grin. The door banged shit behind them with a sense of finality. They had no way of knowing what was going on with the trio behind the doors.

They could only hope for the best.

Meanwhile, Billie was racing across the dusty desert highway at nearly 100 miles per hour. The Trans Am was being pushed to its' limit, and yet the black-haired man still pressed the gas pedal further, urging the small vehicle towards the city at an even faster rate. He didn't allow his thoughts to deviate from the task at hand—he had to go find this Adrienne woman, and now, before it was too late.

He desperately wished he had some way of contacting the base, but they'd decided cell phones were too risky and easily traceable. Besides, Mikey and Joe were the only ones who still had the devices, and there were certainly none in Battery City. BL/ind probably didn't want citizens contacting each other without permission. The best he could do for now was tune into the radio station and pray that if there were any major developments, somebody would think of broadcasting them to the Killjoys' listeners.

The static finally crackled away into Brad's familiar voice when he was an hour away from Battery City, making Billie jump in his seat and his heart beat faster. He'd been away from the base for two hours…labor wasn't that short, was it? Amy had to be fine!

But all that he said was that there was an emergency at the base and radio broadcasts would be few and far between, and then new Killjoys they had spoken of would be introduced at a later date instead. He signed off by saying he and Detonator were out to look for medicine because they had no medical supplies at the base.

Billie sighed frustratedly. That was barely enough to tell him anything. Consumed with worry, he slammed on the gas pedal. He managed to cover the remaining distance in only forty-five minutes.

"College on a cliff," he muttered to himself under his breath, steering the Trans Am onto a winding road that led up a steep hill. "Convenience store. Adrienne Nesser."

Please be alright, Amy.

It wasn't hard to find the convenience store. There were only two buildings on top of the bare, windblown cliff, and one of them was a hulking skeleton of what must have once been a massive building. A small, broken-down 7-11 sat only a few yards away, overshadowed by the large building next to it. That had to be his destination.

Billie cut the engine and stepped out, running a hand through his pitch-black hair. Adrienne Nesser, he thought to himself once more as he pulled open the door.

A chime jangled and the woman at the counter looked up. Billie was suddenly caught in a piercing hazel gaze as she stared at him, immediately suspicious and on-guard. Black hair fell to her shoulders in dreadlocks, and her face was delicately feminine and yet somehow strong as well. The contrast fascinated Billie. She fascinated him.

"Can I help you?" she questioned, and Billie realized he had been staring at her.

He cleared his throat. "I'm looking for Adrienne Nesser."

"You've found her." The woman arched an eyebrow at him.

Billie nodded. Of course. He could see the resemblance now—Amy and Adrienne must be related. It was in their faces, their expressions. No wonder Amy would want her sister there.

Adrienne coughed rather loudly, tapping a red nail against the countertop. "Why do you need me?" she questioned.

"It's Amy," Billie said.

He'd guessed her reaction correctly. Adrienne sprang to her feet, immediately alert and on-edge. "What about Amy?" she demanded.

"She's gone into labor," Billie said grimly.

Adrienne stared at him for a moment, then locked down the cash register and grabbed her coat. She ducked under the counter and emerged in front of Billie.

"Take me to her," she ordered.