Danger Days- S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W
Title: Danger Days- The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys
Author: 6_pack_apathy
Pairing: Gerard/Ray Mikey/Frank
Rating: R
POV: 3rd- Gerard-centric
Summary: Our fabulous Killjoys discover that art is the weapon and use it to take down Better Living Industries
Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction, none of the characters or events are true.
Author's Note: I am so so SO SORRY it took so long to update. Between finals, packing, coming home, and the holidays it's just been tough to stay on top of anything. But I'm back and after New Years Eve I don't foresee any distractions for awhile. So here's another chapter, enjoy!
Warnings: language, violence, sex
Previous Chapters:
Prologue- Look Alive, Sunshine
Chapter One- Art is the Weapon
Chapter Two- Bullet Proof Heart
03
Telling Mikey to meet him in the West had seemed like a good idea when they were still inside Battery City but now Gerard was starting to rethink his plan. The sun was rising from the east and the tall steel walls around the city were casting a huge shadow that left him feeling uncomfortably cold and he knew that once it got dark he would be freezing. Not to mention the slum Raymond had mentioned yesterday was in the east. All he could do was hope that Mikey heard and followed his directions and that they would at least meet before nightfall.
As he walked, Gerard had nothing to do but think. Things seemed much bleaker now than when he’d been woken up by the Scarecrows this morning. He thought that he’d feel liberated; that the natural air - no matter how much it burned his throat - would be sweeter and that seeing the sky would make him feel free. Instead all Gerard felt was doomed. For miles there was nothing but sand and the tall steel walls of Battery City. And what if Raymond had lied to him? What if there was no slum to the northeast? What if there was nothing beyond Battery City but other corporate complexes?
Even more than that, Gerard wondered what a Killjoy was. After some thought and deliberation, he’d come to the conclusion that the other Scarecrows were unaware that Raymond had been amongst them. They were too lax - no way would they have been so comfortable if they’d known the second in command was with them. And it definitely was Raymond, there was no mistaking that voice. The real question was: what was he doing there? Neither Gerard nor Mikey had ever held a position that would allow them weapons so there was no threat of their expulsion being anything but standard procedure. The only reasoning Gerard could come up with was that Raymond either wanted to make sure that Gerard was deported to the north or to deliver that cryptic message. Maybe both.
But why split him up from his brother? Why wouldn’t Raymond let them both leave from the north? He could have easily spoken up and saved Mikey. After seeing how desperate Gerard had been to stay with his little brother Raymond had to have known that Gerard wasn’t going to carry out any sort of mission or quest without him.
Maybe, Gerard started to think, Raymond flat-out wasn’t supposed to be there. He’d already concluded that the other Scarecrows weren’t aware of his presence so maybe he just wanted to make sure he kept it that way… But why couldn’t he be there, Raymond could do whatever the fuck he wanted; was it really just to whisper something nonsensical? What the fuck was a Killjoy?
For hours Gerard wondered about the same questions and kept going in the same circles. Eventually he gave a groan of frustration. That’s when the pain hit him. He’d been aware of the stress that the radiated air was putting on his throat but making sounds turned the irritation into a burning fire. He grasped and scratched at his throat while falling to his knees. The pain was so intense that he screamed out, only furthering his suffering. He was going to die and it was going to be because he couldn’t stop screaming. Each breath that he dragged in and every yell that he let out caused the most agonizing torture he’d ever experienced.
Soon tears were streaming out of his shut eyes. His fingernails were bloody from scratching and grasping at his neck. And towards the end, some distant part of his mind registered the roar of an engine over the sound of his own cries. He tried to stop, tried to open his eyes, and for a few brief seconds he saw a brown van blazing towards him from the south - then everything went black.
When Gerard’s eyes reopened everything was dark. There was a helmet over his head and he was inside a moving vehicle. The next thing he realized was that his throat didn’t hurt anymore. It was easier to breathe and there was no burning sensation when he inhaled. But when he raised a hand to gently touch the sides of this throat where he’d dug in his fingers, he winced in pain at the feeling of raw skin.
Next to him was a figure wearing a BL jumpsuit and yellow motorcycle helmet with the words “GOOD LUCK” across the tinted visor. Even though he couldn’t see the face, Gerard recognized his little brother. He sat up and moved over to Mikey, urgently shaking him. “Mikey! Mikey, are you okay!? Mikey!?”
The van swerved hard to the right and cut into a donut then stopped out in the middle of nowhere. The man driving whipped around in his seat, a Scarecrow laser gun in hand and only inches from Gerard’s face. The man’s hair was long, greasy, and an unnatural black. Despite his unkempt hair and dusty face, he was clean shaven. He wore long sleeves - bright yellow - and a heavy leather vest. Gerard could see exposed skin around the man’s gloves and noticed it was covered in ink. It was amazing how many details Gerard noticed right before he was sure he would die. Even more amazing though was the thrill that ran down his spine just at seeing someone wearing anything other than a BL jumpsuit.
“Stay off him, Drac!” The man yelled as his finger shook on the trigger.
That brought Gerard back to reality. “I’m not a Drac,” he said urgently then realized how muffled his voice was under the helmet. Quickly he threw it off and tried again. “I’m not a Drac. That’s my little brother!”
The man lowered his weapon and looked skeptically at Gerard before placing it back in the holster on his thigh. “What were you doing up the zone? You’re brother wasn’t coasting more than a couple clicks before I eyed him. I know I didn’t miss you.”
How could Gerard explain everything without seeming insane? Especially to an outsider who would probably find the exceptions he’d been granted even more bizarre. As if possessed Gerard suddenly realized what he should say. “I need to find the Killjoys.”
The man’s hand was back on his weapon so quickly that Gerard only had time to squeeze his eyes closed and try to protect his brother’s body before he was sure he would be nothing but vapor.
Nothing happened.
Slowly, Gerard opened his eyes then saw that the man hadn’t moved after he’d closed his eyes. In fact, the strange man looked somewhat like he was going to shit. “Perch shotgun,” he said slowly and moved his hand from gun to gearshift as Gerard climbed over the consol and into the passenger seat. It’d been so long since he’d been in a gasoline powered vehicle that the rumble of the engine and roar of static from the stereo unsettled him as they took off through the dust and sand. “I’m Fun Ghoul,” the man said.
“What?”
Fun Ghoul turned to look at Gerard. “You’re looking for the Killjoys? I can get you to Dr. Death-Defy before the party’s over…”
Gerard didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what to say. Apparently knowing of the Killjoys was enough to prevent him from being killed but he didn’t understand anything that Fun Ghoul was telling him… Was that really his name? Who was Dr. Death-Defy?
It looked like Gerard’s lack of response was making Fun Ghoul increasingly anxious. “You didn’t know that the others were dusted?”
Unsure of how to answer, Gerard shook his head. He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know who any of these people were nor did he understand half of what Fun Ghoul was saying. For the sake of keeping the gun out of his face, he decided to change the subject. “Will Mikey be alright?”
“Oh yeah,” Fun Ghoul said while tossing his head back to look at the passed out man in the back, “got to him just after the light’s on. He’ll barely be shifty with the radiation.” After a beat of silence Fun Ghoul added, “he’s not dusted or anything, just coasting.”
“What does that even mean?” Gerard knew better than to get a short temper with someone carrying a gun but couldn’t help it. It sounded like the guy was speaking English but none of the words made sense. It was like a whole other language.
He watched as Fun Ghoul snapped his fingers while trying to think. “Um, it’s like…” he kept snapping, “he’s not dead he’s…” here he made a wave motion with his hand , “coasting… he’ll be back.”
“Unconscious?” Gerard asked, “he’s knocked out?”
Fun Ghoul snapped his fingers again and winked at Gerard. “Yeah! Unconscious! Konked on the mask, you know?”
“No,” Gerard said numbly while shaking his head in disbelief. “This is fucking unbelievable. The one goddamn person who can help me and you can barely speak English.”
“Hey,” he yelled while cutting the wheel into a hard left, “we don’t jabber like Drac so Drac can’t sight and ghost us. If you had any meat under your mask you’d shut up and start to jabber too. They don’t let the goose fly and I’m not going to leave my shadow just ‘cause you’ve got no same touch!”
Gerard still didn’t fully understand but he was pretty sure by now that ‘ghost,’ ‘dust,’ and ‘leaving shadow’ all meant dying and he didn’t want any of those things to happen to him. Especially at the hands of… whatever the fuck a Drac was. “Alright, sorry, I just don’t understand.”
“It’s okay,” Fun Ghoul said reluctantly, “once you shed and scrub we can common, right?”
Gerard just looked hopelessly at him. “Yeah, alright,” he agreed while wondering what exactly he was agreeing too.
They drifted into silence with the static on the radio and the roar of the engine being the only sounds they heard. Fun Ghoul was driving erratically and it took a while for Gerard to realize why. With every jerk of the wheel, the static would shift and sometimes Gerard could make out music. As more time passed the music became more clear. Fun Ghoul was using it as a navigation system.
The song playing was something punk rock with lots of drums and power chords. Something Gerard probably loved before the fallout but now just felt uncomfortable listening to. He wasn’t used to any sounds that weren’t Krose or Raymond’s voices.
From behind them there was a muffled sound, a click, and then “is that Black Flag?”
Fun Ghoul started laughing while Gerard whipped himself around and saw Mikey sitting up with the visor on his helmet raised. He looked groggy and his eyes were still distant but maybe a few more days off his meds and he’d be okay. He crawled up behind Gerard’s seat and squeezed his brother’s shoulder then sat back and leaned his head against the side of the van.
By this time the music was blaring crystal clear and Fun Ghoul was thrashing and grinning in his seat. Gerard could see the crumbled remains of roads and strip malls in the distance. Frank parked casually and leaned over Gerard to grab a thick monsters mask out of the glove box. There was a small square pack attached to the back of it. He pulled it over his head then reached back to grab Gerard’s discarded motorcycle helmet and slammed it back over his head and flipped Mikey’s visor back down.
“Time to shake boots with Dr. D.”
Author: 6_pack_apathy
Pairing: Gerard/Ray Mikey/Frank
Rating: R
POV: 3rd- Gerard-centric
Summary: Our fabulous Killjoys discover that art is the weapon and use it to take down Better Living Industries
Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction, none of the characters or events are true.
Author's Note: I am so so SO SORRY it took so long to update. Between finals, packing, coming home, and the holidays it's just been tough to stay on top of anything. But I'm back and after New Years Eve I don't foresee any distractions for awhile. So here's another chapter, enjoy!
Warnings: language, violence, sex
Previous Chapters:
Prologue- Look Alive, Sunshine
Chapter One- Art is the Weapon
Chapter Two- Bullet Proof Heart
03
Telling Mikey to meet him in the West had seemed like a good idea when they were still inside Battery City but now Gerard was starting to rethink his plan. The sun was rising from the east and the tall steel walls around the city were casting a huge shadow that left him feeling uncomfortably cold and he knew that once it got dark he would be freezing. Not to mention the slum Raymond had mentioned yesterday was in the east. All he could do was hope that Mikey heard and followed his directions and that they would at least meet before nightfall.
As he walked, Gerard had nothing to do but think. Things seemed much bleaker now than when he’d been woken up by the Scarecrows this morning. He thought that he’d feel liberated; that the natural air - no matter how much it burned his throat - would be sweeter and that seeing the sky would make him feel free. Instead all Gerard felt was doomed. For miles there was nothing but sand and the tall steel walls of Battery City. And what if Raymond had lied to him? What if there was no slum to the northeast? What if there was nothing beyond Battery City but other corporate complexes?
Even more than that, Gerard wondered what a Killjoy was. After some thought and deliberation, he’d come to the conclusion that the other Scarecrows were unaware that Raymond had been amongst them. They were too lax - no way would they have been so comfortable if they’d known the second in command was with them. And it definitely was Raymond, there was no mistaking that voice. The real question was: what was he doing there? Neither Gerard nor Mikey had ever held a position that would allow them weapons so there was no threat of their expulsion being anything but standard procedure. The only reasoning Gerard could come up with was that Raymond either wanted to make sure that Gerard was deported to the north or to deliver that cryptic message. Maybe both.
But why split him up from his brother? Why wouldn’t Raymond let them both leave from the north? He could have easily spoken up and saved Mikey. After seeing how desperate Gerard had been to stay with his little brother Raymond had to have known that Gerard wasn’t going to carry out any sort of mission or quest without him.
Maybe, Gerard started to think, Raymond flat-out wasn’t supposed to be there. He’d already concluded that the other Scarecrows weren’t aware of his presence so maybe he just wanted to make sure he kept it that way… But why couldn’t he be there, Raymond could do whatever the fuck he wanted; was it really just to whisper something nonsensical? What the fuck was a Killjoy?
For hours Gerard wondered about the same questions and kept going in the same circles. Eventually he gave a groan of frustration. That’s when the pain hit him. He’d been aware of the stress that the radiated air was putting on his throat but making sounds turned the irritation into a burning fire. He grasped and scratched at his throat while falling to his knees. The pain was so intense that he screamed out, only furthering his suffering. He was going to die and it was going to be because he couldn’t stop screaming. Each breath that he dragged in and every yell that he let out caused the most agonizing torture he’d ever experienced.
Soon tears were streaming out of his shut eyes. His fingernails were bloody from scratching and grasping at his neck. And towards the end, some distant part of his mind registered the roar of an engine over the sound of his own cries. He tried to stop, tried to open his eyes, and for a few brief seconds he saw a brown van blazing towards him from the south - then everything went black.
When Gerard’s eyes reopened everything was dark. There was a helmet over his head and he was inside a moving vehicle. The next thing he realized was that his throat didn’t hurt anymore. It was easier to breathe and there was no burning sensation when he inhaled. But when he raised a hand to gently touch the sides of this throat where he’d dug in his fingers, he winced in pain at the feeling of raw skin.
Next to him was a figure wearing a BL jumpsuit and yellow motorcycle helmet with the words “GOOD LUCK” across the tinted visor. Even though he couldn’t see the face, Gerard recognized his little brother. He sat up and moved over to Mikey, urgently shaking him. “Mikey! Mikey, are you okay!? Mikey!?”
The van swerved hard to the right and cut into a donut then stopped out in the middle of nowhere. The man driving whipped around in his seat, a Scarecrow laser gun in hand and only inches from Gerard’s face. The man’s hair was long, greasy, and an unnatural black. Despite his unkempt hair and dusty face, he was clean shaven. He wore long sleeves - bright yellow - and a heavy leather vest. Gerard could see exposed skin around the man’s gloves and noticed it was covered in ink. It was amazing how many details Gerard noticed right before he was sure he would die. Even more amazing though was the thrill that ran down his spine just at seeing someone wearing anything other than a BL jumpsuit.
“Stay off him, Drac!” The man yelled as his finger shook on the trigger.
That brought Gerard back to reality. “I’m not a Drac,” he said urgently then realized how muffled his voice was under the helmet. Quickly he threw it off and tried again. “I’m not a Drac. That’s my little brother!”
The man lowered his weapon and looked skeptically at Gerard before placing it back in the holster on his thigh. “What were you doing up the zone? You’re brother wasn’t coasting more than a couple clicks before I eyed him. I know I didn’t miss you.”
How could Gerard explain everything without seeming insane? Especially to an outsider who would probably find the exceptions he’d been granted even more bizarre. As if possessed Gerard suddenly realized what he should say. “I need to find the Killjoys.”
The man’s hand was back on his weapon so quickly that Gerard only had time to squeeze his eyes closed and try to protect his brother’s body before he was sure he would be nothing but vapor.
Nothing happened.
Slowly, Gerard opened his eyes then saw that the man hadn’t moved after he’d closed his eyes. In fact, the strange man looked somewhat like he was going to shit. “Perch shotgun,” he said slowly and moved his hand from gun to gearshift as Gerard climbed over the consol and into the passenger seat. It’d been so long since he’d been in a gasoline powered vehicle that the rumble of the engine and roar of static from the stereo unsettled him as they took off through the dust and sand. “I’m Fun Ghoul,” the man said.
“What?”
Fun Ghoul turned to look at Gerard. “You’re looking for the Killjoys? I can get you to Dr. Death-Defy before the party’s over…”
Gerard didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what to say. Apparently knowing of the Killjoys was enough to prevent him from being killed but he didn’t understand anything that Fun Ghoul was telling him… Was that really his name? Who was Dr. Death-Defy?
It looked like Gerard’s lack of response was making Fun Ghoul increasingly anxious. “You didn’t know that the others were dusted?”
Unsure of how to answer, Gerard shook his head. He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know who any of these people were nor did he understand half of what Fun Ghoul was saying. For the sake of keeping the gun out of his face, he decided to change the subject. “Will Mikey be alright?”
“Oh yeah,” Fun Ghoul said while tossing his head back to look at the passed out man in the back, “got to him just after the light’s on. He’ll barely be shifty with the radiation.” After a beat of silence Fun Ghoul added, “he’s not dusted or anything, just coasting.”
“What does that even mean?” Gerard knew better than to get a short temper with someone carrying a gun but couldn’t help it. It sounded like the guy was speaking English but none of the words made sense. It was like a whole other language.
He watched as Fun Ghoul snapped his fingers while trying to think. “Um, it’s like…” he kept snapping, “he’s not dead he’s…” here he made a wave motion with his hand , “coasting… he’ll be back.”
“Unconscious?” Gerard asked, “he’s knocked out?”
Fun Ghoul snapped his fingers again and winked at Gerard. “Yeah! Unconscious! Konked on the mask, you know?”
“No,” Gerard said numbly while shaking his head in disbelief. “This is fucking unbelievable. The one goddamn person who can help me and you can barely speak English.”
“Hey,” he yelled while cutting the wheel into a hard left, “we don’t jabber like Drac so Drac can’t sight and ghost us. If you had any meat under your mask you’d shut up and start to jabber too. They don’t let the goose fly and I’m not going to leave my shadow just ‘cause you’ve got no same touch!”
Gerard still didn’t fully understand but he was pretty sure by now that ‘ghost,’ ‘dust,’ and ‘leaving shadow’ all meant dying and he didn’t want any of those things to happen to him. Especially at the hands of… whatever the fuck a Drac was. “Alright, sorry, I just don’t understand.”
“It’s okay,” Fun Ghoul said reluctantly, “once you shed and scrub we can common, right?”
Gerard just looked hopelessly at him. “Yeah, alright,” he agreed while wondering what exactly he was agreeing too.
They drifted into silence with the static on the radio and the roar of the engine being the only sounds they heard. Fun Ghoul was driving erratically and it took a while for Gerard to realize why. With every jerk of the wheel, the static would shift and sometimes Gerard could make out music. As more time passed the music became more clear. Fun Ghoul was using it as a navigation system.
The song playing was something punk rock with lots of drums and power chords. Something Gerard probably loved before the fallout but now just felt uncomfortable listening to. He wasn’t used to any sounds that weren’t Krose or Raymond’s voices.
From behind them there was a muffled sound, a click, and then “is that Black Flag?”
Fun Ghoul started laughing while Gerard whipped himself around and saw Mikey sitting up with the visor on his helmet raised. He looked groggy and his eyes were still distant but maybe a few more days off his meds and he’d be okay. He crawled up behind Gerard’s seat and squeezed his brother’s shoulder then sat back and leaned his head against the side of the van.
By this time the music was blaring crystal clear and Fun Ghoul was thrashing and grinning in his seat. Gerard could see the crumbled remains of roads and strip malls in the distance. Frank parked casually and leaned over Gerard to grab a thick monsters mask out of the glove box. There was a small square pack attached to the back of it. He pulled it over his head then reached back to grab Gerard’s discarded motorcycle helmet and slammed it back over his head and flipped Mikey’s visor back down.
“Time to shake boots with Dr. D.”