GASOLINE

This is a My Chemical Romance fanfiction, set in the Dustverse (Killjoy universe) with entirely original characters. I'll be updating as I go along. I'm putting it here instead of a fanfic website because it's more original than just a slash fic, I guess. Features my own Killjoys doing their own shit. Marked yellow for swearing, homophobia, violence, etc. Enjoy it!

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2. One

 

The sun’s setting again, spilling bruise-colored purple and blood-hued crimson across the desert sky, and Laughing Ace doesn’t like it.

“What’s it this time?” asks Caffeine with a laugh in their voice. “Omens in the sky, or were you just hoping to get home before dark?”

“None of the above,” she snaps, patience wearing thin. Ace ignores Caffeine and shifts around, one hand firmly attached to a rail keeping aboard the top of this train. Ever since they lost their van to the Dracs, endless days hitching a train on BL/ind’s far-reaching transports with no other company but tumbleweeds and the occasional wavehead have added up to low morale. Little Atty Deuces must have sung every song they know the words to, but everyone got so sick of hearing that repetitive, reedy voice, so different than the explosion of the way Ace’s vinyls sound back home. Suicide Static hasn’t found any new BL/ind heads to spike on his poleaxe (and hasn’t talked to anyone in at least four days). Ace doesn’t even want to think about what the less patient members of her crew might have been up to.

Finally, with a shudder, the train pulls to a halt. Thank Poison, these things are automatically run; here are no employees to catch them, only surveillance they have to take down. Unfortunately, though, this train seems to have broken down, as there’s no station in sight. Plus, that dark figure in the distance definitely hasn’t stopped...and they haven't got enough batteries to take anyone down tonight.

“They’re catching up,” she calls down to Caffeine, who shrugs and climbs down the side of the train, plopping themselves down in the sand. Ace straightens and surveys the spread of land before her, straining her ears. “Might not want to get your ass dirty just yet, they’ll probably be here in five minutes or so.”

A snort. “Are you kidding? These pants are awful! I swear, these musta' been shitted these out somewhere and Deuces just happened to pick ‘em up on a run. It’s honestly-”

“Would you mind shutting your mouth for at least two seconds of your life?” Ace asks urgently. “I think I hear something.” They bolt to their feet, eyes wide. Ace, however, drops down from her perch. “Christ, I swear, if these are Dracs, we’re fucked…”

“Oh, don’t be such a pessimist,” mutters Caffeine. The kid moves a million miles a minute, thinks Ace. They’ve already taken out their guns and sounded the wolf-whistle that’ll bring the rest of the crew running along the top of the traincars. Ace drops behind the rock, cocking her own green pistol. Within a few seconds, Rock Opera, one of the squad, has joined them, breathing hard. “Sounds like motorbike tyres, oh god, what if it’s a Scarecrow, I knew we shouldn’t have wandered so far into Zone 3…”

“Skip the static, Opera, you want them to hear you?” At this point, Ace is only a little bit pissed. “Get the others over here.”

“They’re coming, they’re coming…” Opera fumbles with his blaster’s batteries, spilling them all over the ground with a frantic burst of swearing. Ace sighs. The remaining members of the crew - Cyanide, Explicit, and Suicide - arrive within the next minute or two, confused and dropping down from the train. They all take shelter behind the scatter of boulders.

“Check six,” mutters Ace, holding her zap ready. “On three, we’ll ambush the motherfucker. One, two…”

Raucous laughter rings out. Lady Cyanide, lowering her gun confusedly, exchanges a glance with the bemused leader. One by one, everyone in Laughing Ace’s killjoy crew stands cautiously.

There they are, standing astride that silver beast of a highly illegal motorcycle. Nine Knives is, as always, dressed in a skintight suit of ragged leather, with black bandanas covering their face except for their eyes - which have sunglasses on anyways - and that pair of sparkly purple vintage cat ears is perched on their head. As Cyanide (the most eloquent in the crew) used to say, Nine Knives is a smuggler 98 percent of the time and a Killjoy on alternate Thursdays - when it’s a good day, at least. Right now, Ace would probably call the genderqueer a-hole a smuggler.

“What the hell are you junkpunks doing?”, crows Nine Knives, throwing their head back in ecstatic laughter. “Ahahahahha, I swear to God, since when have I have the god-dang misfortune to roll into you tumbleweeds. Look at ya’, all geared up, ready to ghost your old pal Knives easy as that!” With fluid grace, they slide off the bike and have their arm around Caffeine in seconds. “How long’s it been, dust darlin’? Look at you!” Their gaze shifts. “Laughin Ace, you’re the same as always, ya’ fabulous. Lady Cyanide, still the best shot in the Zones? And of course, E and O, my sweet lovebirds.” Knives throws Rock Opera and Explicit Fiction a kiss and a wink. “So, I except the pigs’ve wiped ya’ clean outta batteries. Ah well, that’s what I’m here for, innit?” They yank down the lower bandana to reveal a dazzling grin.

“Slow down, motormouth,” giggles Caffeine - who isn’t one to talk, at all.

“You ain’t one to talk!”

“Ah, stuff it,” says Opera mildly. “How’ve you been, Knives? It’s been fucking years.”

Yet another roaring laugh. “Oh, y’know, just the usual.”

“Where’s your crew, man? You used to ride around with some great old rubberburners…”

They sigh. “Missing Lynx and System Sunshine started a new gang with some rodent outta Battery City. For all I know, they’re workin’ in S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W right now. I’m pretty sure Trigger Warning has gone independent, and Neon Knockout got ghosted years ago.”

“Damn, that’s a pity,” says Ace.

“Ah, nevermind it. We’re all going to hell, I suppose I’ll meet ‘em there in the end.”

“Whatcha got for us?” Explicit Fiction asks, smiling despite crossed arms.

A shrug from Knives. “Bit a’ this, bit a’ that, you know the deal. I’m really sorry, chicks, but the knapsack’s been leanin’ towards empty these past coupla weeks…”

It wouldn’t be exaggeration to say that Ace visibly deflates. “Dammit. Ah, well, I appreciate the niceness, Knives. We all understand.”

“Got some information for ya’, though!” They seem to brighten visibly. “Yo, I wouldn’t be tellin’ this to just anyone, so listen up. Out in back left side a’ Zone 2, I got a car for you. Niiiice old vehicle - probably still works, too! Only issue is, someone got there first.”

Suicide Static swears suddenly.

“‘S a miracle, Kitty!” beams Deuces, as Nine Knives winks at the use of the Atty’s nickname. “This has gotta be the first time Static has talked in weeks. I thought we was friends, bro.” They elbow him.

“God, Deuces, don’t be rude,” says Cyanide sarcastically.

Another raucous laugh. “Happy to help. Anyways, I was saying…”

“Zone 2. Dumped car. Currently, occupied by some angel food callin’ herself Crash Contemplation.”

“Sounds emo. Is she a wavehead or just new to the Zones?” Cyanide again.

Knives shrugs. “I’d say more like a motorbaby, not gonna lie. I think you’d do well to next expect this one to be too green. Of course, don’t be lookin’ for some fuckin’ queen, by the by.”

Ace frowns, “Is she alone? That’s awful dangerous for a kid.” Deuces, seated on the nearest rock, gives a laugh and imitates her, saying; “Looking at you, Ace, concerned mother already. When will I be let out on my own?”

“Anytime you’re ready to get ghosted,” interjects Cyanide dryly.

Nine Knives throws a glance at the setting sun. “This has been wonderful, my dears, but I’d better hit the getaway mile before the radiation catches up with me. I’ve got a battery or two to spare ya’, and although there ain’t naught to eat, I can let you know that Jimmy Lucifer’s out and about round Dead Channels area. He’d be sure to hook you up with a bite for dinner.”

“Dead Channels…?” Deuces frowns. “Ain’t that club in Zone 2? I love you, Kitty, but I think I speak for our sweet Boss here when I say I don’t wanna give my colors just yet.”

“Can’t imagine why not. I know, it’s close to Bat City, but if you’re up for a ride and some chow, I’d suggest a hop over there.” Nine Knives mounts their motorcycle. “Well, this has been fun...”

“Agreed,” says Explicit with a smile.

“See you around, old friend,” murmurs Ace as she pulls Knives into a one-armed hug. “Don’t let them devils get you, alright?”

Knives gives a flash of their stunning grin. “Don’t even spare it a thought, buddies. Seeya!”

The great silver motorbike pulls off in a rush of sound, spraying them all with dirt. Explicit smiles fondly at the retreating figure, as his partner disgustedly shakes the dust off his shirt.

Lady Cyanide shakes her head. “Perfect-looking Opera. Gotta get that Green Day aesthetic down to the core, huh?”

Rock Opera’s killjoy gear consists of a medley of ripped button-up shirts, armbands, headphones, and guitar strings, so she’s not wrong, but Opera still shakes his head decidedly. “I like Nimrod better than American Idiot.

“As if the faggot didn’t have enough to worry about with staying alive in the Zones, now he’s got fashion foremost on his mind,” grunts Suicide Static. He doesn’t look up from the flag he’s tying onto his long pike.

Like a firework fizzling over an audience, the demeanor Nine Knives's appearance has brought on stops dead in its tracks and fades out of view.

Opera’s outraged retort is stifled as Cyanide says, “Forget about it, alright? Style falls apart every second here. Is it really your priority? Neither of you need to give a damn.”

“He can’t call me that,” mutters Opera.

“Says who-!” says Suicide in an increasingly louder voice, eyebrows lowering into a scowl.

“EARTH TO THE NUTRITION-DEPRIVED BASTARDS OVER THERE,” hollers Atty Deuces, as if trying to be louder than the sound of verbal friendly fire. “YOU WANNA HIT THE TRACKS SOMETIME TODAY, OR JUST BITE EACH OTHER’S HEADS OFF INSTEAD?”

“Shut up,” says Suicide, but everyone’s on their feet, ready to push out. This train must have taken them halfway through Zone 3 by now, so it'll be a bit of a walk.

Silence falls over the group again.

Ace spits on the ground.

It'll be dark soon.

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