A/N Well, you asked for more, and I wrote more. Not like I could have kept the idea this big silent though. And just to let you guys know, the girl, Sarah aka Crash Baby? That's me. It was my original Killjoy name in accordance to the name generator online, but I pushed it aside and thought of another one, one a bit more creative and fitting for me. Anyway, she is me. She's a bit more comical then me, but what Killjoy isn't? But I should stop blabbing about myself now and let you read the chapter.
By the Way (pun intended), if any of the Killjoys seem out of character, let me know.
Copyright: I don't own anything My Chemical Romance related. I do own myself though…wait that sounds weird…
"Is she awake yet?" Fun Ghoul asked. Kobra Kid muffled a growl in the back of his throat that was just itching to get out.
"No, Ghoul, she is not awake yet. She hasn't been for the last 5 hours you've been asking. Honestly, it'll probably be a while before she comes around. That bruise on her head is going to be an eyesore when it turns black and blue," He winced, "the gash on her forehead didn't look that great either."
"At least Poison is taking care of the gash. It could have gotten a lot worse if she hadn't found help," Jet Star piped up.
"Always the voice of optimism," Kobra smiled wryly, "yeah, but she should be fine. It's only a few stitches and a very hideous bruise. Not like she'll die or anything. Hell, if she's lucky she might not even have a scar."
"Well, seeing that her sister just dumped her on us and is probably dead, she doesn't seem like the lucky type so far," Ghoul frowned.
"Truer words have never been spoken," Jet nodded.
They were sitting in what was the closest thing they had to a home: an underground apartment, where they could not be detected by the Draculoids. It was as cozy as a home underground could get: relatively dark, yes, but worn and bright with color splashed here and there. They were in what would have been the living room, on a circular couch with a little island in the center where their coffee cups sat. Poison had left the room only while before, having to have had come to the conclusion with them that the girl was going to stick around as long as she needed.
So, he had gone to the bedroom where he had laid her, and cleaned the gash on for forehead. He was just getting to the stitches at the moment.
He found himself replaying the letter in his mind over and over in a repetitive, continuous loop. He couldn't help but mentally pause at the bit about the girl's eyes. What could possibly be so strange about them that he could just stare at him the way Lady L - Beatrix had described? He observed the worn appearance of the young girl, including a small dirt smudge on her face. He gently wiped it away with his finger, and his eyes automatically fell on her closed eyes. Why couldn't she just wake up so he could see?
She appeared to be in her mid to late teens, so Poison had a feeling if she were to stick around she wouldn't be an easy person to keep control of. He sighed and pushed his red hair away from his face and mentally readied himself for the next bit: stitches. To say he was scared out of his mind was an understatement. He hadn't done this type of thing enough to know what was right and what was wrong, and considering the fact he hated the sight of blood didn't make it much easier. He did use a laser gun after all, instead of a real gun for that reason. He threaded the needle and shakily held it. Needles were another thing he hated. After a moment he gently began to weave it from either side of the gash, pulling the ends of the cut together so that it formed a strange line. Once he was done he smiled down at his handiwork and put small strips of medical tape on it vertically so it would stay together.
Walking back to the living room, he wondered what they would be eating for dinner. They didn't have much of a stash, but it was occasion enough to try to make something out of the ordinary, even if none of them cooked very well.
"Hey Poison!" they greeted him in unison. He smiled sheepishly: his friends were all he really needed to get by in any situation. Brother included too, really.
"How is she? How is she? How is she?" Ghoul bounced in his seat. He had the impeccable appearance of an eager child.
"Sure she's seen better days but she'll be alright. She should be coming around in a while," he smiled patiently.
"And the cut?" Jet asked.
"Sewed it up. Shouldn't have a problem with it," he responded automatically, the words flowing smoothly.
"And the worst that can go wrong?" Kobra asked.
"Infection, but that can be treated pretty easily," he whipped back. He had been prepared for these questions as soon as he had set foot in the bedroom ready to treat this girl, Sarah. This Crash Baby.
"So boys, what will it be? We've got Spanish rice and some beans and maybe even some chicken. Sound like a good meal?" he asked with a grin.
He got enthusiastic response from all of them. He laughed to himself: he could practically see them salivating. Not that he could blame them: the casualty these days was Power Pup. He washed his hands and filled an old, battered and dented pan and filled it with water and turned on the stove, the flames roaring to life. The beans he would have to boil too, so he took out another small pan, filled it with water and set it on the other flame and let the two sit to boil. He was in the middle of messing with the chicken when Jet asked;
"So what are we going to do with this girl, Poison?"
Poison visibly stiffened and paused. His mind reeled as he realized he didn't have a reply.
"Honestly Jet? I have no fucking clue," he confessed.
"We can't just leave her though; she's all alone according to that letter. And she's not old enough to survive alone," Jet said informatively.
"I know, I know. I'm just not sure, that's all," Poison defended, his hands in the air and still facing the old stove. There was no wall distancing the living room from the kitchen and was technically the dining room according to its proximity.
"I mean, a teenage girl? Would be able to handle that?" he asked, adding seasoning to the chicken as it broiled in its frying fan. Kobra laughed.
"If we can shoot down a bunch of Dracs we should be able to take care of a teenage girl," he laughed heartily.
"A rebelliousteenage girl. Could we handle a rebellious teenage girl?" he asked, getting more and more concerned with the matter.
"Bro, I hate to remind you but we're not exactly slaves to the Dracs either," Kobra lashed back at his big brother with a smiled. They were outlaws, the same as she.
"...I just don't know. She might slow us down..." he shook his head, not finishing the thought.
"The letter said she was a pretty good fighter though..." Ghoul said quietly. It wasn't like him to be quiet in any way, but seeing that Poison wasn't in the best mood he knew better then to be blunt about his opinion.
"The letter said a lot of things, Ghoul. I'm just not sure extent to believe it though," he sighed, "it could have easily been an exaggeration of her ability to fight to get us to take care of her, to take her in. Because let's face it, if Lad- Beatrix had come straight out and said in that letter 'she sucks at fighting, sorry. You'll need to fight for her' what would the odds have been of us wanting to take that on our shoulders?" he asked, his voice becoming sad.
"And what if she doesn't suck at fighting?" Ghoul asked hopefully, with a small smile.
"Then we'd have that much less to worry about." Poison said flatly. He let the chicken fry in the fan, the grease bubbles sizzling. Ghoul smiled broadly.
"So does that mean we're going to keep her?" he asked. You would have thought he was referring to a stray kitten.
"For now," Poison murmured.
"Yes!" Ghoul punched the air. Jet and Kobra smiled wide, loving the idea of having a new Killjoy among them, even if it was just for a little while. Poison tried to bite back a smile and failed, his lips curving with pleasure. Even he had to admit the prospect of having a new Killjoy was exciting.
He moved the chicken around the pan, not letting the pieces burn and wanting them to cook evenly. His smile widened as the distant name "Rachel Ray" popped into his mind.
Jet, Ghoul, and Kobra's gazes snapped as they heard the sound of a door creaking open. Could the Dracs have found them? Poison remained unaware, focusing on dinner and smiling at thoughts of the past, before the days the Killjoys and the Dracs. Footsteps creaked down the hall, the Killjoys who had noticed pulled out their laser guns. What they saw next though, they were not ready for.
"Where the hell am I? Who the hell are all of you?"
Cliffhanger! But no worries, I'm already busy with the next chapter…which I will post if you review. Yeah, I'm making you guys work for it.