Chapter Four: Desolation Row
Every Killjoy in sight turned to look at Fun Ghoul, who was immediately pointing with both arms to his left, where Manic Phantom held a radio above her head with both hands.
"Hey there, tumbleweeds," Dr. D's voice came crackling out of the stereo, at full volume. Desi wondered why he hadn't just come on out, but she figured maybe he was paranoid, or maybe he just spoke to the masses better through his radio station. "Glad to see there was such a turnout. To think that Jet Star and Party Poison doubted me, too. Just 'cause I'm the old man sitting behind the mic doesn't mean I don't know what's what."
"You proved 'em wrong didn't you, Killjoys?" cheers rippled through the crowd. "Now, tumbleweeds, it's time for you all to head down to meet up with the rest of your friends. The boys will tell you all where you'll be going. No need for S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. to overhear. Now, keep your boots tied, your guns close, and die with your masks on if you have to!"
Manic Phantom lowered the radio and headed around behind the shack, presumably to stash the radio in the trunk of the Trans Am. Jet Star peeled away from the shack and walked over to where Fun Ghoul was standing. Desi realized she hadn't noticed him until he moved. Very ninja of him, and here I thought Kobra was the karate guy.
"You all know how to get to L.A., right?" Jet Star asked; his voice was surprisingly deep, carrying easily in the attentive silence.
Shasta stepped forward. "I do. What am I looking for?"
"The Warehouse region, in the South end of the city. It's right on the coastal side, and easy to hide in." Jet Star informed everyone.
Desi raised a hand, drawing the attention to her. "How do you know it's not inhabited or under surveillance?" she asked.
Jet Star snapped his head to look at her. If he hadn't been wearing those dark sunglasses, she would have seen his eyes narrow. "We know it's not inhabited because we've been scouting it for over a year. And with the surveillance, even if S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. tapped into the city's system, we've sprayed every lens we could find."
"What if you missed something?" she retorted.
"We don't miss," Jet Star replied."Aren't you just a little paranoid?"
"One, I used to live in Battery City, I know what S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. can do. Two, I've had a long month. I got damn good at second-guessing every shadow."
"Point taken," he conceded. Jet Star looked at the crowd again. "Anything else you need to know?"
A random Killjoy shouted, "What's the deal between Desi Destroya and Party Poison?"
"That's not my story to tell. Ask Party yourself." With that Jet Star headed around behind the shack, and Fun Ghoul followed.
"Well, I guess that's my cue. We've got to head down to L.A., too." Kobra Kid said. "Take care of yourself, Desi. I'll see you soon."
As Kobra Kid walked away, Desi headed straight for Rasta, who was standing with Shasta near the bike. Shasta turned to look at her. "You wanna convoy with us? We'd all feel safer all around." she asked.
Rasta raised his eyebrow. Obviously, it was up to her. "Sure, strength in numbers, and all that." Desi turned to Rasta."Ready to go?"
"Whenever you are," he said, taking her hand. "It looked like your conversation with Kobra Kid went well." he whispered in her ear.
"He's a great guy to have as a brother," she whispered back. "I just hope that Party Poison comes around, too." Together, they walked back to the bike.
'You guys take the lead, all right?" Shasta called. "Just don't get too far in front, or I might have to shoot you when we get to L.A." Rasta laughed, and gave her a thumbs-up. With the bike engine roaring, and the RV backing up, Shasta wouldn't have been able to hear any other reply.
The ride to L.A. was supposed to take about three hours, give or take any interference with Dracs, or so Shasta had said. Even less, Desi had expected, since they were going to be in point position. But to Desi, it felt like it took twice that long before they even made it halfway. She tried to fall asleep, and it should have been easy with Rasta so close. But, there was so much new information cycling through her brain.
This morning, she'd woken up from a nightmare, which always set her day on edge. She'd almost shot a Killjoy, and after that, she had discovered Rasta alive and healthy. Then, there had been the Fabulous Killjoys. So much had happened in one day, and a lot of her expectations had been altered.
Dr. Death Defying was like the war-grizzled grandfather she'd sometimes imagined having, if she'd been born in a world without BL/ind. Party Poison was surprisingly confusing, being both the man she'd hoped he would be, and someone frighteningly different. Fun Ghoul was laid back and fun-loving, a perfect convivial Killjoy role model. Jet Star was quiet and definitely deadly, but without the ruthless psycho edge that Silent Apocalypse had possessed.
Kobra Kid was his own surprise altogether. Everyone talked about him like a playful Killjoy with a ninja hobby. But to Desi, he was protective, caring, and genuinely interested in becoming a real brother to her. While Party Poison was threatening and harsh, Kobra Kid accepted her as his own sister, even though they'd never met before today.
So many new and confusing events lay in front of her, the impending assault on BLI the least of her worries. Hopefully, none of the Killjoys in L.A. decide to hate me. Party Poison's misplaced rage and Jet Star's lack of belief in her abilities were bad enough at the moment.
Hours later, a headache was beginning to bloom in the back of Desi's skull. Dimly, she noticed the faded green sign proclaiming LA: 10 mi. Good, she thought, maybe soon I can get some food and sleep. The headache was something she would live with, because most Killjoys abhorred all kinds of pills, reminding them of the Medication that mushies were prescribed. Desi was even worse, having been within days of that life herself.
The miles flew by, and soon they entered the infamous City of Angels. Before BL/ind, this city had been full of sun, smog, and addled celebrities living outside of modern convention. In early 2015, there had been a streak of major riots, and many predicted the city would burn itself to the ground. The city had recovered slightly by the time BL/ind took over, but they weren't stable enough to take the end of the world. So, Los Angeles had become one of the biggest ghost towns in the country.
Just as Desi had started to wonder how they would find their way, she noticed the graffiti. Jet Star's emblem, a blue star with a mini lightning bolt, was sprayed near a vaguely inconspicuous arrow. She pointed it out to Rasta, and he followed the sign. Several blocks later, a red and white pill, centered above a sideways 'X', was sprayed on a building behind a 'One Way Street' sign. The sign was pointing to the left. Desi pointed it out, as well, and Rasta took the left. For the next twenty minutes or so, it was like that. Desi would spot the signs and show them to Rasta, and then they would follow the clues.
Eventually, the bike was headed down a street in the port section of the city. Directly in front of them, at the end of the street, was a large warehouse. Its condition was somewhere between well-kept and something that would have been condemned, if the city still had a society functioning within it. As they got closer, they noticed the graffiti sprayed over the top of the gigantic barn doors. All four of the Killjoy symbols were in a row, the clearest 'Welcome Home' sign any Killjoy could find.
Rasta pulled the bike over about a block away. Despite the signs, it was hard to stop being wary. When he turned off the bike, the headlight died, revealing that dim light came from within the building. Desi opened the stash box on the back of the motorcycle and withdrew her own jacket. Dark violet, with the winking star-eyed skull stitched onto the back, it fit her pretty good, and was warm enough for hot California nights. Still feeling a little paranoid, she bent over and pulled her thigh holster a notch higher on her leg.
Rasta grabbed her elbow, and gently made her stand. "Don't worry, Dizzy. Party Poison trusted this place to protect something like a couple thousand Killjoys." he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, kissing her on the side of her head.
Just then, Shasta, Candy, and several other slightly frightening looking Killjoys came over from the RV. She saw Epic Strike and Cyanide Smash standing near Candy. There were also other girls carrying their roller skates like they planned to use them as clubs, if necessary. "You guys ready to see what the Danger Days gang has to offer?"
Desi looked at Shasta. "I thought it was an army?"
Shasta shrugged. "Whatever. Killjoys thrive on chaos, but an army is based purely on rank and order. I think they used the term 'army' simply to imply the sheer size of the Killjoys we have in one place."
"Whatever we call it, it had better make S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. piss their pants when we all come rolling into Battery City in a couple of days." Rasta grinned as he talked. He had always been waiting for something like this to happen, the uprising. What use was a revolution if you never made a statement?
The group of Killjoys walked down the street with Desi and Rasta. Together, there were was about fifteen of them. The closer they got to the warehouse doors, Desi heard more and more blasters charge up. She looked around, and saw it wasn't any of them. Briefly, she wondered if the other Killjoys could hear, but she trusted Rasta's belief that this place would be safe.
Shasta was the one to knock on the large double doors. The metal clanged loudly throughout the warehouse on the other side. Desi's fingers strayed to her blaster in its holster as she felt the gazes of every Killjoy that pointed a blaster in her direction.
"Sing it from the heart, sing it 'til you're nuts, sing it out for the ones that all hate your guts," a voice called from within. Desi couldn't tell if they were singing.
"Sing it for the damned, sing it for the blood, sing it about everyone that you left behind," Shasta continued the lyrics in a clear voice that Desi was positive could project across an entire stadium.
"Sing it for the world," the voice came back.
"Sing it for the world." Shasta finished.
Instantly, Desi could hear the clanking and grinding of the doors on their hinges. Behind her, Candy tapped two scouts to retrieve the rest of the Killjoys from the RV.
The sight within the warehouse was a complete surprise to Desi. She had no idea what she had been expecting, but this blew all of that out of the water. Easily, there were over a thousand Killjoys mingling on the ground floor of the warehouse. They were dancing to music, having target practice (inside!), and generally hanging out.
When Desi walked inside with the rest of the group, she noticed several hundred more Killjoys on the upper level, a balcony running all four sides of the building, jutting out a good twenty feet, at least, from the walls. The Killjoys ranged vastly in age, from seven or so, to some that were easily twenty, although no one really counted birthdays any more. California barely had any seasons, and calendars were hard to come by and keep around.
"Pick up your jaws, Killjoys," a vaguely familiar voice called. "This is only the main warehouse. We have several others, filled to varying capacity." Manic Phantom emerged from the crowd, her boot steps still managing to echo in the vast space, despite the many bodies inside it. "Last real head count wasn't very clear. I think your group," she said, motioning at Shasta, "puts us over five-thousand."
Manic looked around, and pointed at two Killjoys conversing several feet away. "You and you," she said, snapping her fingers. "Yes, you," she said, rolling her eyes when the Killjoys looked up, confused. "Show these new kids around, tell them how things work. I need to check in with the boys. Sounds like the Trans Am pulled in about ten minutes ago."
Desi noticed that the two Killjoys were vastly different from each other. One appeared in her early twenties, tall and slender (not to the extremes of Manic Phantom), with sleek black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had a blonde highlight along the left side of her hair, and several inky strands escaped her ponytail to curl around her face. She wore black skinny jeans, and tall combat boots that she kept polished and properly laced. She had a dark red blaster on her hip, with a matching biker jacket, over a dark gray tank top proclaiming 'Bite Me' in faded letters.
The other Killjoy would have been lucky if she was fifteen. She was a fairly short girl, barely clearing five feet, not counting the hair, which was a tightly curled mass of grape purple. Her jacket was also the same insanely violet color, over a bright yellow tank top and gray jeans. Her feet were covered in fairly well abused black Chuck Taylors.
The shorter one spoke first. "Well, as Manic Twit said, this is only the main warehouse. There are five others, which we'll show you in a minute. Here is mainly where the higher-ups crash, but until late night, pretty much anyone hangs out in here."
Desi raised a hand, feeling like she was back in a strange twist of her Orientation for School. "Higher-ups?" she asked.
This time, the other Killjoy spoke. "The good shots, experienced ones, and of course, the Fabulous Favorites, as Fanta loves to call them. She's a great fan of nasty pet names for authority figures." Surprisingly, the girl had a British accent. That was odd, because there was no international travel anymore. Not even from Canada or Mexico. BL/ind was super uptight about security.
"That's me," the purple-haired one spoke up. "I'm Fanta, Fanta Explosion." She waved her hand. Ask about the name later, it's kind of a long story."
"Before you all ask, I might as well tell you," the one with the dark red blaster said. "I'm Black Rain. Not the craziest name, but the Canadian has an excuse to be a little different."
"Canadian? You sound British." Shasta said.
"My parents were from England, originally. They lived in Vancouver for about a decade, before they escaped down here in 2012, when BL/ind took over up there. It was a little more subtle and passive up there, since they hadn't come up with Medication yet.
"My parents still thought they deserved to keep their rights. I grew up in Washington with not many people but them, and my aunt. I moved down here in 2019. My parents had just died, and I'd heard about the Fabulous Killjoys through a chain of pirate radio stations."
"Well, let's get going. It's almost completely dark out, people." Fanta interjected.
With that, Fanta Explosion and Black Rain showed the group, as well as the other Killjoys from Shasta's gang, around the main warehouse, and the five others (all marked with different Killjoy symbols, the fifth unmarked and full of non-perishable foods and stolen BLI goods). They were told that the higher-ups would be sorted out in the morning, and to crash anywhere there wasn't another Killjoy laying claim.
Desi and Rasta headed towards the warehouse with Fun Ghoul's symbol, just because it was the most empty. They weren't used to large groups after spending so long with only each other. And the day had been full of so many people; they were tired of the social scene.
"Isn't it odd that you two aren't that social for the average Killjoy?" A familiar voice called out to them from the dark alley between the warehouses. "You'd think, after being alone for so long, you'd crave company, right?" Rasta's hand instinctively went to his blaster, and Desi resisted doing the same.
"Lithium Razor, in the flesh," Desi laughed, but it was forced. She continued talking. "I'd have thought Apocalypse would have shot you for all that talking ages ago. God knows I wanted to about a thousand times." Her fingers twitched at her side.
This Killjoy scared her. Other than S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W.'s minions, and the idea of going back to Battery City, he and Silent Apocalypse were the only things that scared her. Oddly enough, though, Apocalypse had never seemed inclined to harm her, or any other girl. Maybe that man's ruthlessness had a weak spot.
Even in the dark, she could picture his thin, angular face with the two piercings in his left eyebrow, and the one in his lip. His greasy, spiky dirty-blonde hair, streaked with highlights from time spent in the sun; an ink-black jacket, emblazoned with a yellow spider on the back, over a deep red T-shirt with a laughing decapitated head; his worn black jeans, and steel-toed boots.
But the thing that haunted her the most? His blaster: black as night with yellow grips and a bright blue line along the barrel. The voltage wasn't just stuck on high, the knob was broken off. And Desi had woken up screaming for two months straight, unable to get the sight of that blaster pointed at Rasta's head, only inches from his skull.
"Nah. You know me, Des. I owned that punk, and Spider, too." Suddenly, he peeled away from the shadows. Lithium traced a cold finger along her cheekbone. She knew without seeing that his nails were ink-black, just like his heart. "And even if Apocalypse had tried to ghost me, I still would have come for you." Desi reached behind her, groping in the darkness for Rasta's hand. She desperately wanted to not be afraid of Razor, but she couldn't control it.
Rasta wrapped his fingers around hers. Without speaking, she knew that he was planning to shoot Lithium the instant he could see him. For once, Desi cursed the smogged-out sky that she'd dismissed as a simple fact of L.A.
"I made my choice almost a year ago, Razor, and I haven't looked back. I never looked twice at you as anything other than the Killjoy that saved my life one minute, and tried to shoot me down the next." Desi hoped he didn't notice the slight quake in her voice.
"Ah, babe, don't be so harsh. First impressions aren't everything."
"What about second impressions, and thirds? Rasta was always holding you back from overkill. I saw him talk you down multiple times from ghosting Killjoys just for looking at you cross-eyed. He grew up with you, and spent years kicking around the Zones with the crew. But the instant he seemed like he had something you didn't, you were planning to kill him in cold blood." Desi paused. "I lived in Battery City. I've seen worse monsters than you outsiders can imagine. But, Lithium, you make Dracs look like toys. They can't help it, they're just brainwashed. But, you, you're heartless."
"Don't be like that," Lithium's voice slowly gained an ice-hard edge. "I wouldn't have killed him."
"You would have, if he had let you. But, that isn't the point, Razor. You never looked at me like anything but a mushy turned damn-good Killjoy. You hardly realized I was even a girl until I was with Rasta. It was never about me. It was always about other people having things that you didn't. You always have to be better, Razor. You never let anyone have the best parts; you saved it all for yourself."
"I was the leader, it was my right," he protested.
"We were a team. The only reason you were a leader was because you insisted on being one. Everyone had to be second-best to you."
"Everyone is second-best to me!" Lithium's voice had a crazed energy to it, and if it had been any other lunatic, Desi would have expected him to start giggling like he had lost his mind completely.
In the darkness, bodies shuffled, and Desi knew Lithium was launching himself at her. She reached down her leg and pulled her blaster, flicking the voltage down from fatal as she moved. A white beam of light shot from her blaster, illuminating the alley for a moment, and Desi saw that she had shot Lithium right between the eyes. She kneeled down beside his body while he twitched from the electricity, not quite unconscious. "You're going to have an awful head when you get up, man. Maybe that will teach you to stay away." With that, she stood and holstered her blaster, continuing down the alley to the warehouse she and Rasta had been heading toward before Lithium's ambush.
"Nice shot," Rasta remarked as he wrapped an arm around her.
"It was dark, and I acted on instinct. It was pure instinct." Desi leaned into Rasta's body as they walked.
"Then you've got good instincts. You should totally tell the other Killjoys tomorrow." he said as they turned the corner.
"I already get too much attention as it is!" Desi protested.
"Attention is fabulous. Killjoys thrive on it." Rasta pointed out.
"Yeah, yeah, so you might be right."
"Admit it. You're secretly happy that people know your name."
"It is kind of cool that my blaster has a reputation."
"Stop being modest, Dizzy. Sometimes, you are so socially impaired." Rasta laughed as Desi elbowed him in the side.
"Hey, that hurts."
"Oh, waah. Suck it up, Killjoy."
They reached the doors of the Green warehouse, as Desi thought of it. She color-coded them all related to their Killjoy signs: yellow for Party Poison, red for Kobra Kid, blue for Jet Star, and green for Fun Ghoul, obviously. It matched their guns, and the colors of their symbols.
Rasta helped her slide open the doors, and to close them after they were inside. Desi sighed. Now, can I go to sleep? Or do I have another surprise/shock/assault to deal with? Rasta took her hand and headed towards the stairs that led upstairs. "I know you'd rather sleep under the sky, but the warehouse feels safe enough, right?" he asked over his shoulder. Dang, he is so nice to me, and thoughtful.
"It's fine. The stars are smogged out here, anyway. And there are so many Killjoys. I'm not afraid of waking up to Dracs hovering over us." She turned Rasta around by her grip on his hand, and kissed him. "Fuck, you have no idea how much I missed you."
"I think I have a great idea. I thought you were dead, too, Dizzy. Remember?" Desi kissed Rasta again, and sighed.
"It has been a long damn day." she said.
"No kidding." Rasta put his arms around her and rested his head on hers. "Let's go find a spot to crash."
"Sounds good to me," Desi said. They wandered around until they found a stack of mattresses and another stack blankets set up for newcomers. After they had grabbed several, they found an empty spot near a large and broken window. Luckily, the glass had been swept away long before, and between the two of them, they pulled over a mattress in no time.
Desi and Rasta curled up together, and she fell asleep almost instantly. So much for getting reacquainted, she thought distantly as her mind began to shut down. They'd just have to catch up and hang out tomorrow.
"OH, MY GOD!" A male voice yelled. Desi jerked sharply, coming out of the first deep sleep she'd had under a roof since she left Battery City. "Desi, wake up. Please, please, please wake up."
"Shut up!" a voice yelled sleepily from somewhere in the warehouse. Rasta pulled Desi closer to her as she tried to sit up.
"Ignore him," he muttered, kissing the back of her neck sleepily.
"He'll just keep bugging me," Desi stated. "I might as well get rid of him sooner than later."
Desi blinked her eyes groggily as she looked around for the noisy Killjoy. Suddenly, a face was looming in her vision. Shock struck her as her eyes cleared. "Spider!" she shouted.
"I said, shut UP!" the faraway voice yelled again.
"Oh gosh, Desi, you have no idea how long it's been," Nuclear Spider whispered, hugging her fiercely. "When you and Rasta left, I was the last sane Killjoy running around in that group. I left the next day, before Lithium or Apocalypse murdered me in my sleep." He hugged her again. "It's so good to see you!"
Desi hugged Spider back. "It's great to see you, too. I met a girl yesterday who would make a great friend for you. If I promise to introduce you, will you let me sleep?" she bribed. "I had a terribly long day yesterday, and I'll fill you in on all of it later, I promise."
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, you go get some sleep." Spider pulled back and smiled at her, beaming brightly enough to be measured in kilowatts.
"Later, Spider," Desi mumbled as she lay down next to Rasta again.
"I take it that that was Nuclear Spider, as in the short, excited comic-obsessed Nuclear Spider?" Rasta mumbled. Spider had always made Rasta look kind of tired.
"The one and only," Desi murmured, before returning to unconsciousness.
When Rasta nudged Desi awake a few hours later, she realized that they were the last ones still upstairs.
"Hey there, sleepyhead." Rasta said. "Didn't Black Rain say something about competition or ranking today?"
Desi nodded sleepily. Rasta nudged her again. "What did she say?"
"Funta shed muffin flout antsy dance."
"What?" Rasta decided to move up from nudging her shoulder to poking her in the side.
Desi let out a gigantic yawn, and tried again. "Fanta said something about fancy pants. You know all those good shots and bossy people sleeping over in the main warehouse?"
"Ohhh. Well, get up. We might miss it." Ignoring him, Desi snuggled closer to his body, squeezing her eyes shut.
"It's not worth standing around shooting at things. You know they're all better than me."
Rasta yanked the blanket off of her, and she curled up into a ball. "Bull, shit. I watched you shoot Lithium Razor between the eyes, in the dark. And I know for a fact your blaster was on high while it was in your holster. Even with switching down the voltage, you were still faster than him."
"Lucky shot." Desi grumbled.
"You lie, Dizzy. Now get your ass out of bed, girl."
"Don't wanna."
Rasta decided that her answer wasn't good enough and quickly stood up. He grabbed her by the ankles and started to drag her toward the stairs. Desi immediately began squealing like a little girl.
"No, stop, no! I'll get up, I promise!"
Rasta continued pulling her along the floor of the warehouse balcony. "I don't believe you."
"I promised, didn't I?" Rasta mocked sighed, and dropped her feet.
"I guess you did. Come on, let's go." he said, and headed toward the stairs. Desi scrambled to her feet and ran to catch up with Rasta.
"Again with the modesty, Dizzy. Why do you always do that?"
Desi shrugged. "I don't know, Rasta, I just don't like attention as much as the average Killjoy."
"I think you actually love it, but you don't know how to take it. People grow up seeking praise; it's human nature. You grew up without that. So you don't know to handle it."
Desi elbowed Rasta. "Since when does the Killjoy boy know all about psychology?"
"I'm smarter than I look."
"I'm sure you are, Ross." Desi said, and kissed him on the cheek. 'Thanks for telling me I'm better than I think I am."
"Someone's got to do it." Rasta replied, wrapping his arm around her.
As they came close to the main warehouse, they could easily hear the distinct sound of laser blasts.
"Told you we'd be late." Rasta said.
"Shut up."
Suddenly, Fanta came running out of the warehouse, screaming at the top of her lungs. "She's gonna kill me! Help!"
11
