[fanfiction] smile as I respire ('cause I know they'll never win) part 1

[kisforkurama]

smile as I respire ('cause I know they'll never win)
When he wakes up, Brendon has a feeling that the day is going to be different somehow. He is not really sure how, although he thinks about all the ways it could be during his morning cleansing. All the ways he thinks of seem a bit unlikely (and also the kind of thing he should never say out loud, just in case one of the teachers overhears him and reports him to an Exterminator). So, Brendon decides to just wait and see what's going to be different about the day.

He does not have to wait long.

The three boys are brought in by the teachers just after Brendon has finished his breakfast. They are around Brendon's age, and Brendon is curious about them but knows better than to asks questions of the teachers. They only tell him what they think he should know, and what they think Brendon should know is very limited. He waits until one of the teachers says that the boys are named Ryan, Spencer, and Jon, and then Brendon smiles warmly at them without any plastic fakeness to make them feel at home. After introducing himself, Brendon welcomes them to the facility although they don't seem very happy to be there. He wonders what part of the facility they have come from and why they were transferred to this area.

When the teachers leave, Brendon tells the three of them a little more about the facility and what their days will be like. In brief, anyway, because Brendon really cannot cover the things like surprise filming and product promotion when he is talking about the schedule in general. Those are usually schedule for early in the month anyway, and it's not really near that time anymore so Brendon think it will be something to explain later. Pausing, Brendon watches the boys. They seem nervous, eyes scanning the walls for reasons that Brendon does not quite understand. He suspects that it might be the particular shade of white the walls are painted, because Brendon has been told that the facility's walls are an especially pure white. They get washed every day, and when Brendon is too curious he is the one to do it. When Brendon is done talking, he asks the boys about themselves. They tell him curtly where they are from (two are from Battery City and one is from Turbine City, although Brendon has never heard of that sector) and sit awkwardly at the common room table. They are still looking at the walls.

Brendon has grown up with the white walls that have a starkness to them that he suspects would drive most people mad. Well. He cannot really know if that statement is true, but the walls seem to be driving the new boys a little crazy and they are an especially pure and glistening white. He has never known anything different, but Ryan and Spencer . . . Ryan and Spencer weren't informed of their transfer to this section before it happened this morning. They are not happy about it. Brendon thinks they might even hate it, although such an emotion would be dangerous, but he does not think they hate it as much as Jon. Jon was brought from a far, far away sector and he misses his old sector. Jon doesn't understand Battery City. Jon does not understand what they are meant to do in this sector, and neither do Ryan and Spencer. It is okay, though, because Brendon knows. He knows exactly what they are meant to do, because he has been training to serve in this sector as long as he can remember. They are meant to spread the word about Better Living Industries and show people The Way. This has been explained to him since he was very little, and the time is right. Together, they will spread the word and make life a better place for everyone.

When he tells this to Jon and Ryan and Spencer, they look at him skeptically and Brendon frowns. They cannot see the magnitude of the task they have been given-cannot see its importance. It is okay, he will teach them soon enough. They will learn.

"What are you," Ryan says to him, "some kind of robot?"

No, Brendon tells Ryan with a smile, he's just a messenger. Jon stares at Brendon with an expression Brendon has never seen before. It is not anger or sadness-things which Brendon can identify in his sleep, because they're the only emotions that Brendon is trained to identify so he can alert the proper authorities-no, it looks a little bit like . . . confusion? Maybe not. Spencer narrows his eyes.

"How can you say that? Don't you know what's going on outside?"

What is outside, Brendon asks. He has never heard of it, none of his teachers have mentioned it. Is it a kind of machinery? That would be nice, because Brendon is tired of all the machines they teach him about. That is the only thing they teach him that he finds interesting-how to use the machines, how to speak clearly into them, how to repair them. They say it is all part of the grand plan, but Brendon is as bored of the machines around him as he is with the rest of his lessons. He has been playing with the same machines since he was old enough to say machine. This outside sounds interesting.

"What do you mean what is outside? How do you not know what outside is? Haven't you been under the sun, in the heat of the desert? Haven't you seen the zones?"

Sun? This is also a new word for Brendon. Perhaps these new faces for the cause will be able to teach him new things. They seem very educated in areas that are outside the teachers' scope, and more willing to tell him about anything he asks. Brendon has never had access to people who were willing to tell him things he did not strictly need to know.

Ryan and Spencer are looking between each other and speaking in the silent manner Brendon has become accustomed to. People rarely talk directly to Brendon unless they are teaching him something, and it used to bother him but he has better control of his emotions now. He waits, head tilted curiously, for them to answer his questions.

Jon has curled into himself, maybe from loneliness or maybe from the shock of being in a new place, and Brendon wants to tell him it is not so bad (and maybe also warn him that he could get reported for that). Brendon knows that it will not help any, though, because it never helped when the teachers told him similar platitudes when he was younger. It just made him more lonely and then they put him on the happiness regulators and Brendon felt like he was trapped in his own head. He disliked that feeling enough to treat it as incentive to hide his emotions better. Ryan pulls a chair over to where Brendon is and sits on it incorrectly in front of Brendon. He sighs.

"Better Living Industries has drained the world of color, music, and life," Ryan says emphatically, "Don't you see anything wrong with what you're surrounded by?"

It's very white, Brendon says thoughtfully, but I don't mind. His teachers tell him that the white makes it easier to calm yourself and find your center. It keeps you from being overwhelmed with emotions and getting sick with them. There is nothing wrong with the white walls, in Brendon's opinion, except that they are an especially pure shade of white. Sometimes it can be blinding.

"He doesn't get it," Jon whispers, "He's never been anywhere but this facility. His parents probably work here too, guys. Does he even know what music is?"

Brendon does know what music is, and he tells them so. There is light, preapproved music during meditation hour, which is sometime soon, and he thinks all of them would benefit from a little meditation. Ryan and Spencer are getting very agitated, and Jon seems very out of sorts. He looks like the emotions in his heart are making him sick. Brendon mentions this, mostly wondering if maybe Jon is in need of medication but is not sure of what dosage. Everything explodes.

"Emotion is not a sickness," Spencer hisses.
"There's nothing wrong with me," Jon insists, "Better Living Industries is full of shit."
"Right," Ryan says, "You have a lot you need to learn."

That is okay with Brendon. Ryan, Spencer, and John have a lot to learn too, and Brendon does not mind learning from them if they are willing to learn from him. He says this and Spencer looks like he is going to object, but Ryan shoots him a look and Spencer settles again. Jon is still curled into himself and Brendon really thinks that he should try and stop looking so sick with emotion. Brendon is not going to report him, because Brendon is lax about reporting people, but others might.

"We'll teach each other," Ryan says.

Learning is never a bad thing and Brendon agrees to learn if he can teach. Before the teachers come in for the day, he learns a little bit about outside and zones and color. The last of those is something Brendon knows about, vaguely, because he knows that Color Is Bad because it Promotes Individuality and other Bad Things that Only Killjoys Do, but what Ryan is telling him seems like the reality is the opposite of what he's been taught. It is very confusing for Brendon and when the teachers come, Brendon sits quietly through his lesson. He wonders what they are not telling him. He wonders why they have never taught him that there is two sides to every story, and he wonders if they even know that there are two sides. He wonders if they even know what they are not telling him, or if they have been given a half-story too.

About halfway through the lesson there is a commotion outside and Brendon turns toward it, worried. His teachers tell him to focus, but the commotion gets louder and Brendon disobeys a direct order for the first time in his life. It will get him in trouble later, but he does not mind the looming idea of punishment for once. Today is different, so Brendon stands and walks out of the room to see what the commotion is. Ryan is being dragged down the hallway by some guards and Brendon is walking toward them before he knows what he is doing.

He asks to speak to Ryan and the teacher that is supervising the guards dragging Ryan away looks at Brendon before motioning for the Guards to release Ryan. Sometimes being a Model Citizen has its perks. Ryan starts to launch himself toward the guards and Brendon stops him. It is okay, he says. Ryan just needs to cooperate and everything will be okay. He just needs to have an open mind and be willing to learn, and everything will be fine. The words taste sour in Brendon's mouth, which is an unpleasant and new sensation, and he tries to tell Ryan with his eyes that fighting only makes things worse. When you act badly, they put you in The Room and they will not let you come out for a day or more.

Brendon has been in The Room before, back when he was a Very Bad Boy and Such A Troublemaker. It is a little square, just a little box that is barely tall enough to stand in with thick walls painted a brighter white than the rest of the facility. The purest of whites, maybe. The Room is the quietest place Brendon has ever been and he knows that if Ryan already does not like the sterile nature of the facility, he will really go crazy in The Room. Something in Ryan loosens, like he knows that what Brendon is saying is true. His head drops low, perfectly submissive, and the teacher leads him back to a room while Brendon returns to his.

Sliding back into his seat, he apologizes for disobeying and says he will not do it again, but the new students are not acclimating well, and he wanted to explain some of the rules more clearly. Punishing them for being a little out of sorts was not going to make them like the facility any more and his teachers nod curtly before continuing the lesson. When it is over, Brendon is allowed to return to the common room and wait for the others. He thanks his teachers, like he does every day, for teaching him about the world and improving him. The words are even more sour in his mouth than the ones he told Ryan, and when he gets to the common room he sinks to the space next to the water machine, Marina, and coaxes her into giving him a ration of water. This is probably not what the teachers intended his powers to be used for, but no one has reported him for it yet so he figures they must not mind that much.

Swishing the water around in his mouth and swallowing carefully, Brendon leans against Marina and waits for the others. Jon comes in first, and he stands in front of Brendon for a moment before sitting down on the floor too. Brendon tries to smile at him, but it feels like it comes out all wrong and he cannot figure out how to fix it. Brendon squeezes his eyes shut and breathes out slowly. Jon places a hand on his shoulder, a little awkwardly.

"Hey," Jon says, "Are you okay, Brendon?"

No, Brendon wants to say, but he cannot make his mouth form the words. He shakes his head instead. The world feels very wrong, like it has suddenly stopped turning and Brendon cannot figure out how to make it start again. He just wants to curls into himself and wait until everything makes sense again, until he knows what to believe and what not to believe. He tells this to Jon, who squeezes his shoulder gently.

"It's hard," Jon tells Brendon, "especially when you've had your entire worldview dismantled. I'm sure you'll figure out what you want to believe soon."

The words sound false to Brendon, but everything sounds a little false to Brendon right now. He tries to smile again and this time it feels like he succeeds at least a little. Ryan comes in then and stares down the water machine. Brendon sits up and asks if Ryan wants some water. Ryan looks down at Brendon.

"I already had my ration of water, though."

Marina will not mind, Brendon tells Ryan with a shrug. She likes Brendon, and if anyone has ever noticed that Brendon often steals rations of water (which he does not think they have since no one pays very much attention to him), they have never made him stop. Touching his fingertips to Marina's side, he asks if she will give Ryan a ration of water. She does. Jon and Ryan stare at Brendon. Brendon is thanking Marina, so he fails to notice that they are staring until he looks back up. Tilting his head, Brendon asks if something is wrong.

"How," Ryan says slowly, "did you do that?"

He does not know how to explain it, so Brendon just says that he asked Marina for some water and she gave Ryan some water. Ryan stares at Brendon for a moment more and then takes the glass of water and goes to sit at the common room table. Spencer comes back in then, sliding into the seat across from Ryan and having a silent conversation with him. Jon sits next to Brendon and watches Ryan and Spencer frown at each other like he cannot understand them either, which is nice. He seems tired, and Brendon touches a hand to Jon's shoulder, asking if he is okay.

"I'm fine," Jon smiles at Brendon, "Are you hungry? I'm hungry. Dinner rations are supposed to be coming around soon, right? I feel like eating will make everything seem better."
Ryan looks over at them, "What kind of rations do we get for dinner anyway?"

There is not one all-purpose answer to that, but they do not generally get rations for dinner and Brendon tells Ryan so. Dinner is real food usually, which is either a good thing or a bad thing depending on what real foods the kitchen has. Sometimes it means slightly shriveled apples and sub-par genetically altered Things of Questionable Origin, but sometimes it also means real meat. This seems to surprise Ryan, and Brendon cannot blame him. He knows that he is treated far better than some of the people at the facility. He also knows that his privileges can be revoked if he does not behave and he tells Ryan as much. Spencer scowls.

"So they expect us to act like perfect little robots or they'll take away our privileges? Seems a little juvenile to me. I'd rather live freely than have real food."
"Spencer," Ryan says quietly.

Spencer looks over at Ryan, and there is a moment of silence between them before Spencer quiets again. Brendon says it is not so bad most of the time and that, well. Maybe it is if you've been other places. He cannot imagine anything better. Ryan stares at Brendon for a long moment.

"Would you like to get out of this place?"

It is a question that Brendon has to turn over in his mind, because until a few hours ago he was not aware there was anywhere besides the facility. Still, Brendon thinks he would like to see the outside, would know better what he believes in if he had experienced both sides of the story. He says that yes, he would like that. The corners of Ryan's mouth turn up in a tiny smile, and he produces something from one of his pockets. It is a tiny little radio he should not have at all, like the toy Brendon had for a few weeks when he was little, and Brendon is gently moving it out of Ryan's hands before he quite knows what he is doing, running his fingers over it and whispering to it.

He learns its named Fidelity, and that it can talk to other radios if he wants it to. Brendon tells this to Ryan, who looks at him with the same expression he did earlier, when Brendon was talking to Marina. Jon has come over to peer at the radio too, and Ryan finally takes the radio back from Brendon and flicks a switch. Soft, soothing music pours out of the device and Brendon is transfixed.

"You talk to machines," Ryan says simply, "Don't you, Brendon?"

Brendon is still absorbed in the little device and the music coming from it, and it takes him a moment to register the fact that Ryan has asked a question. Then it takes him a moment longer to figure out how to answer. That is how he sees it, yes. He talks to machines and they seem to like him, but that is not what the teachers call it. The teachers call it technopathy and Brendon tells Ryan this. He adds on that yes, it is basically talking to the machines. Ryan smiles for real this time, an expression that makes him light up. Brendon looks up at him, head tilted in mild confusion.

"Good," Ryan says, "I need you to get Fidelity to transmit a message for me. Tell it to tell every radio that will listen that four subjects are trapped in a Better Living Industries facility and need help."

Pressing Fidelity into Brendon's hand, Ryan locks eyes with him. Brendon can tell how important this is to Ryan, so when he tells Fidelity to send the message out, he stresses that importance. Fidelity is happy to do what Brendon asks, and he hands it back to Ryan with a smile.

"Now," Ryan sighs, "we wait."

There is nothing more to say, because a couple of the teachers come with dinner and then Ryan quickly pockets Fidelity again. Their dinner is a baked potato and a small piece of chicken. It is a pretty good portion of food, all things considered, because Brendon had been worried that Ryan's earlier outburst and his disobedience would get them Something of Questionable Origin. They eat in silence while the teachers hover nearby, which seems to make the others nervous. Brendon is used to it, because he knows they're only there to make sure nothing is wasted. When the food is finished, the trays are whisked away and they are escorted to their room. Brendon notes that someone (probably several someones) has replaced his single bed with two sets of bunk beds. It makes his tiny room a little crowded, but Brendon sort of likes it. Everything feels less lonely, more alive.

Spencer and Ryan take one bunk bed, Spencer on top and Ryan on bottom, leaving Brendon and Jon with the other. Jon climbs into the top bunk, and Brendon takes the bottom. He closes his eyes and begins waiting.

For the first time that Brendon can remember, his sleep is restless and plagued with dreams of dry heat and a warmth that sinks into his skin. He dreams of bright streaks of color painting a new world, of music flooding the world. He dreams in flashes and sparks, dreams of things he cannot comprehend, and wakes with a start when the artificial lights of the facility first flicker on.

Brendon breathes in and then out, trying to slow his racing heart, and then slowly gets out of his bunk to start getting ready for the day. He bathes quickly, soaping up and then toweling the soap away quickly before slipping into a new uniform. Spencer wakes up just as Brendon is finishing up, and Brendon smiles at him, pointing out where all the soaps and new uniforms are stored before he starts his morning exercises.

Jon and Ryan wake up while he is stretching, and they stumble toward where Spencer is getting ready. They are slow to dress and get everything taken care of, and Brendon finishes his exercises before they are done. When the teachers come in to escort them to the common room for breakfast, the others have barely gotten dressed and ready. They do not do their exercises, but Brendon doesn't mention this to anyone. At breakfast, they eat their morning grit ration with a mechanical air, and the teachers whisk the trays away when they're done, leaving them to their own devices.

"They didn't give us pills," Spencer says, a little shocked.

The teachers do not usually give out pills, because everyone at the facility is expected to monitor their own pill intake and know how to take care of their emotions. Brendon explains this while they wait for their lessons to start, and Spencer listens with a curious expression of his face. There is a pill dispenser in the common room, mounted to the left of the door-just like in their room and every other room of the facility-and Spencer gets up to inspect it once Brendon is done talking. He punches in the code for happiness regulators and receives the basic dosage for it. Pills in the palm of his hand, Spencer stares at them for a moment before glancing over at Ryan. They have another silent conversation, and then Spencer takes the pills.

The change is subtle, and mostly manifests as a slightly plastic smile on Spencer's face. Brendon can only see the difference because he spends so much time around people who cannot keep their happiness up to acceptable levels. He does not take the happiness regulators, because he has gotten very good at pretending to be happy when he is not really that happy. It is probably good that Spencer is regulating, because they keep track of that sort of thing and Brendon does not know how the pill machine would feel about lying for four people instead of just Brendon. Brendon rarely takes any pills at all, because he does not like the way that they make him feel, so he has learned how to be what they want him to be. They think he is taking his pills regularly anyway, thanks to a deal he has with the machine.

"That's freaky," Jon mutters.
"It's just for a little while," Ryan says quietly.

Ryan does not seem particularly happy that they are all going to take the pills, but the pills cover that up nicely. Before their lessons, Ryan and Jon teach Brendon more about outside and the other side of the story. He listens eagerly, asking questions and learning more in a couple hours than he has in years from the teachers. Brendon is disappointed when the teachers come to collect them for their lessons, but he rearranges his face quickly and puts a bright smile on.

The lesson drags on, and Brendon finds himself barely paying attention to what the teachers are saying. They quiz him, noting his absent-mindedness, and Brendon answers their questions quietly. He says he feels slightly under the weather, and they note that there has been a sickness going around. They tell him that he should ask the pill machine for antibiotics when he gets back to the common room. Everyone needs to take care of themselves, they tell him, and Brendon nods in agreement. When they release him and let him go back to the common room, Brendon stares at the pill machine until Spencer comes in. The first cracks in his artificial happiness are staring to show, probably only visible because Brendon knows what to look for. Brendon asks how Spencer's day was, voice light and cheerful.

"It was good," Spencer says, "I learned a lot."

Brendon reads between the lines, knows that Spencer's words come from the pill and not Spencer. He nods and goes back to staring at the pill machine.

"What are you thinking about?"

Turning toward Spencer, Brendon says that he is thinking of taking a happiness regulator for the first time in several years. Apparently he is not keeping himself together as much as he needs to, which is Not Good because the last time it happened he was put in The Room. Spencer's brows knit together, and Brendon slumps down on the table. Jon walks in then, and Brendon knows he should probably drag himself off the table to greet Jon for appearances and not because Jon will report him, but he can't make himself get up.

Jon touches Brendon's shoulder, "You okay, Brendon?"

I don't know anymore, Brendon mumbles into the table. Jon slides into the seat next to him and rubs soothing circles into Brendon's back. He thinks the action is something Jon would do anyway, but the tinge of the pill is still on what he does and Brendon can't see his face so he can't tell where in the pill's cycle Jon is. Still, Brendon does not move from his position slumped on the table, only shifting slightly when he hears Ryan enter. Ryan takes the last seat at the table and Brendon can hear him fiddling with Fidelity. He smiles into the formica and finally manages to drag himself up. Brendon knows there is a passable smile on his face, and Ryan seems vaguely concerned, but he does not say anything. Brendon appreciates that.

"Waiting is the worst part," Ryan tells Brendon, or maybe everyone, "but it'll be worth it. I promise."

Brendon hangs onto those words through dinner and through the next twelve days. He hangs onto those words through Fidelity giving out on them, batteries so dead even Brendon's powers cannot coax more life out of them. He hangs onto those words until there is a commotion in the halls and Brendon first lays eyes on the Killjoys.

They seem a little like a dream when they storm the compound, all bright colors and flashing ray guns. Ryan had given Brendon a crash-course on the Killjoys that was a little more informative than the cursory lockdown procedures and basic identification that Brendon had associated with them before that. There were a lot of posters tacked up at one point, but then Korse stopped being so afraid and they came down. Brendon should be afraid of them, has been trained his whole life to be afraid of them, but instead he gravitates toward them. They are there to save Ryan and Spencer and Jon and Brendon, who had not known he needed saving. They are there to take him away, show him outside, and something clicks in Brendon.

He walks, standing straight, between Ryan and Jon. Ryan produces Fidelity, looking up toward the leader of the Killjoys, the one Brendon thinks they call Party Poison. Brendon knows that they're safe when maybe-Party-Poison smiles, pulling a spare ray gun from somewhere and handing it to Ryan.

"You know how to shoot this, motorbaby?"
Ryan curls his fingers around it, "I can learn."

It seems to be the right answer, because maybe-Party-Poison leaves Ryan with the ray gun and continues shooting the teachers. They are only ghosted, Brendon knows, but it still twinges something in him. One of the other Killjoys is pressing a ray gun into his hands and Brendon hears it say that his name is Paradise Found and that Brendon better get to shooting if he wants to live. Raising the ray gun, Brendon starts ghosting the obstacles in his way. He follows the Killjoys and says a silent goodbye to the only home he has ever known. There is a lot of gunfire, a lot of commotion, and Brendon is a little overwhelmed by the time they make it to a part of the building Brendon's never been to. Logically he knows that the section of the building that he has been exposed to is rather small in comparison to the actual size of the facility (he has studied blueprints, he knows the relative size difference), but this is the first time he is actually being exposed to that fact.

Not that Brendon has a lot of time to absorb that fact, being that he has a lot of other things to worry about. In fact, he mostly just focuses on not getting shot and paying attention to everything that is going on around him. There is not a lot that Brendon can absorb otherwise, and so that is mostly what he registers until they are pushing through one last set of doors, and Brendon is enveloped in a sudden warmth. He is transfixed for a moment, and then someone is pulling him toward a transport and Brendon goes. He lets himself be tugged and then suddenly he is in a moving box with Ryan and Spencer and Jon and some other people, but he does not know what it is or where they are going, and everything is suddenly too much all at once. Letting the ray gun clatter from his fingers, Brendon curls into himself.

"We're safe now," Ryan says, fingers squeezing Brendon's shoulder, "You don't have to worry, Brendon, we're safe. They won't be able to get us now."

Brendon does not say anything, just shakes and tries to come to terms with the fact that he is no longer a part of the facility. That he can have whatever emotions he wants, that he can wear whatever he wants. Focusing on breathing, the steady in and out of slightly tangy air, Brendon finally calms down and uncurls enough to properly look at his surroundings. Their transport device is full of holes that let light stream through, catching on particles of dust fluttering in the air. Brendon runs his hands through the light, more than a little fascinated with it, and Jon smiles, joining in.

"Sun," Jon says, "That's where the light is coming from. We're in a van right now and we're headed to the zones. You're going to love it, Brendon."
"I already do," Brendon says.

The words feel light, free as the swirling particles of dust, and Brendon marvels at the way the words feel when nothing is weighing them down. He's himself now, not a mouthpiece for someone else or a piece of technology to be used, and that's. Brendon doesn't known how to describe it, so he doesn't. He just runs his hands through the light and laughs.

One of the Killjoys nudges Ryan, pointing toward Brendon. "What's the story with that one?"
"He was raised at Better Living Industries," Ryan shrugs, "and he can do some strange stuff with machines. I think he was some kind of experiment for them, raised to be in those commercials in stuff."
"My name is Brendon," Brendon supplies cheerfully, "and I'm very excited to learn about outside."
"You've never," the Killjoy says slowly, "been outside?"
"No," Brendon shakes his head, "I was born at Better Living Industries and raised to show people The Way. Ryan has been teaching me that there is more than one Way, though, and I think I like yours better. Did you know there are two sides to every story? I didn't. They don't teach you very many things at the facility except how to promote The Way and harness your true powers. I don't think they really meant for me to use my true powers to get extra rations of water and get the pill records to lie about how much medication I was taking, but that's really what I mostly ended up using them for. Do you have lots of machines? I like meeting new machines, Paradise Found is very nice, you know."

At that, Brendon looks around for the discarded ray gun and then curls his fingers around it. He apologizes for dropping him, and then sets the ray gun in his lap. He won't be needing it at any time soon, but he likes the weight and security that it provides him. Letting his fingers brush against it, more of an assurance that he's still there than anything, Brendon feels that Paradise Found is content. The Killjoy is looking at Brendon funnily, and Brendon shrinks back into himself a little.

"He's got a little static in the signal," the Killjoy says finally.

Brendon has no idea what that means, but it doesn't seem to be bad so he smiles and goes back to watching the fluttering dust. Ryan talks to the Killjoy more, but Brendon stops paying attention in favor of talking with Jon. Brendon's asking him questions when he feels like it and trying not dwell on the fact that he's . . . free. That fact still sits awkwardly in his chest, and Brendon's not quite sure what to do about that, but he figures it'll settle eventually. Jon told him it was hard, and Brendon has no doubts it will be.

In fact, he knows it will be when the van rolls to a stop and Brendon is blinded by light. His eyes take a second to adjust, and then he climbs out into the blanket of heat that wraps around him. Brendon turns around, squinting up and trying to make out where the warmth comes from. Spencer touches his shoulder and points to the bright light in the sky.

"That's the sun," he tells Brendon, "Don't look at it for too long or you'll burn your eyes out, but it's what's making everything hot."
"I like the sun," Brendon decides, "I like it a lot."

Grinning, Brendon things his expression gets brighter when Spencer smiles back. It feels like all the emotions he never used are all trying to explode onto his face. Spencer drags Brendon toward the building they've stopped in front of, and Brendon lets the warmth of Spencer's fingers around his wrist sink into his bones. It's a fascinating sensation, new and easy to focus on, but Brendon stops caring when they get into the building itself.

It's the most exciting place Brendon has ever been, machines covering the walls from floor to ceiling and spilling out into the room, and he runs his fingers over the walls to fill his head with happy hellos from everyone. His fingers stop on a faint murmur, the whisper of a very sick machine, and Brendon kneels to get a better look at it. It's a little machine with rubber pads all over it, and Brendon doesn't know what it does but it's in his lap before he really registers that maybe he isn't supposed to touch it.

All the machinery within his reach at the facility had been his to work with, and he knew the inner workings of everything so well he barely thought when he fixed things. This machine is new, exciting, and so sick it makes Brendon hurt. He hums to himself, a soothing tone that calms down machines while he opens them up and heals them. The innards go everywhere like the mess they are when Brendon finally gets the machine open, and he straightens all the bits and baubles out before he runs his fingers over the chip and feels the code. There's bumpy bits that he smooths out, a few broken places that he mends seamlessly, and then he closes the machine back up. She gushes all over him and says that her name is Timpani and she's a drum machine. Brendon doesn't know what that means, but he's happy she's better and chatting with her about what she is when a shadow falls over him.

"That there's a ghosted piece of music-makery. I've never been able to figure out how to patch it up."
"Oh," Brendon runs his fingers over Timpani, "I cured Timpani. She needs some power, I think, but she should work fine now."

Finally looking up, Brendon hands Timpani up to the scruffy Killjoy-esque man standing over him. He's covered in drawings that seem printed onto his skin. They match the look of the drawings on the Killjoy with the black hair, and Brendon makes a note to ask Ryan about the drawings later. The man takes Timpani and plugs her into something Brendon guesses is a battery before he starts tapping the pads on the front. The rhythm is a little wrong, somehow, but Brendon likes it all the same.

"Well, ain't you a regular microchip. You got a name?"
"Brendon."

The man raises an eyebrow, and Brendon is about to ask for his name when Spencer wanders back over to Brendon is. Spencer is about to say something before he catches sight of Timpani, but he zeroes in on it, hovering but not touching, and the man laughs. Scooting Timpani over to Spencer, he smiles.

"Give her a go, motorbaby. She's a beautiful piece of music-makery again, now that microchip over there has fixed her up."
"I can't," Spencer says, "that's a real instrument."
"Not a big deal," the man says, "Microchip can probably fix her up again if you break her."

There's still some hesitation in Spencer's face, but he finally pulls Timpani toward him and starts tapping out a more precise and fluid rhythm than the one the man did earlier. Brendon is entranced, partially by the noise, but mostly by the way Spencer loses himself in what's happening. He's a little disappointed when Spencer stops, and Brendon can tell the man is too, because the man pushes Timpani toward Spencer.

"Keep her. Ain't many good homes for a piece of music-makery, and you seem to be one to get a signal going."
"I couldn't," Spencer whispers, "We don't. I'm not."
"Keep her," the man says firmly, "I know you'll do great things."

Spencer seems to give up fighting, instead clutching Timpani to his chest a little tightly, when he realizes that the man is actually serious about Spencer keeping her. That's about when the Killjoys and Ryan walk back into the room. Jon is a little behind them, and Brendon turns toward the group with a sheepish smile. He's probably missed something important fooling around and fixing Timpani, but that's okay. That's really just fine with Brendon.

"Spencer, Brendon? Are you ready? We're leaving now."
Spencer nods, "I'm ready."

When they're back in the van again, Spencer sits with Timpani on his lap and his fingers running over her gently. Ryan scoots close to Spencer, who lifts Timpani up and deposits her on Ryan's lap. Ryan looks a little puzzled, but them something clicks and he smiles.

"It's a drum machine. Where'd you get this?"
Spencer takes Timpani back, "The tattooed guy gave her to me after Brendon fixed her. What's her name, Brendon?"
"Timpani," Brendon says, "She likes you and she's very happy to be better now."

Running his fingers over the pads, Spencer repeats Timpani's name to himself quietly. Brendon thinks it's good that Spencer seems to like Timpani as much as Timpani likes Spencer. That's a good sign, really, and Brendon mostly watches Spencer fiddling with Timpani until the van stops again and they all get out. This time they're in front of a building with a sign that reads DINER, and Brendon is already turning to ask someone what that means when Ryan is next to him.

"It's a place where you eat food," Ryan tells Brendon, "They're from Before, I think, and they don't exist anymore. This is just a leftover building that the Killjoys use for shelter."

Brendon nods, tasting the new word on his tongue while they walk toward the building. The inside is obviously a little haphazard and slightly dusty, like things just land where they land and no one really bothers to clean up, but Brendon likes it a lot. There's so much order and so much emphasis on cleanliness at the facility that never clicked with him, and Brendon thinks he'll like this new style of living. It seems a lot less structured and a lot more free. Brendon likes being free so far, and he tells Ryan so.

"Good," Ryan smiles, just a tiny quirk of his lips, "I'm glad you're not itching to crawl back to Better Living."

The rest of the group is sitting at some tables with backed benches for seating. The benches are covered in stickydusty material that fascinates Brendon, and he keeps touching his hand to it before pulling it away. He only stops because one of the Killjoys, the one with the bright hair that's maybe-probably-Party-Poison, clears his throat. Brendon sits up and pays attention, years of lessons having drilled the response into him.

"So," the Killjoy says, "now that we've got these motorbabies into the zones proper, guess it's about time to turn 'em into real Dust Angels, transmission understood? Little Contact, stand up."

Ryan stands, waiting.

"Pick a code name that rolls off the tongue like a good street drug name, something that makes you a little dizzy like a Ritalin Rat."
Ryan pauses, then says: "White Album."
"I see you listen to long-gone signals," the Killjoy smiles, "but it's a good name, and it's yours from now on. You're White Album now, not who you were. Out in the zones, a body's got to be careful about names and suchlike. Never tell anyone your real name, tell 'em you're White Album. Transmission received?"
Ryan nods, "Transmission received."
"Good. Little Turbine, stand up."

Jon stands up, grim-faced like the Dracs that Brendon sometimes saw lined up for combat.

"Pick a code name, Little Turbine."
"Photo Finish," Jon says without thinking, "It's what I had fighting vamps in Turbine City, it's what I'll have fighting Dracs in Battery City."
"A name with history," the Killjoy nods, "always a good choice. Little Drummer, stand up."

Spencer stands, Timpani still clutched to his chest like he never wants to let her go.

"Pick a code name, Little Drummer."
Spencer shifts, "Ghost Note."
"Shiny," the Killjoy says, "I see we've got a beat-keeping machine on our hands. Now, last but probably not least: Little Microchip, stand up."

Brendon stands, still not sure what or who he wants to be.

"Pick a code name, Little Microchip."

The silence stretches out while Brendon thinks, wanting this code name to be something he can really get. Something he can really be.

"I want to be New Perspective."
"Fitting," the Killjoy smiles, "very fitting. And, now that you've got code names, you need new threads. Can't go zonerunning in those white suits or you'd get ghosted for looking like a Drac. White Album picked out some shiny new threads for you guys, so thank him."

Each of them gets handed a package wrapped in plain brown paper and tied up with rough twine. New Perspective opens his carefully, smoothing out the paper to reveal a little pile of clothes that he eagerly holds up. His outfit is a brilliantly white shirt that he can't wait to get dingy with dust and a gray vest that matches a grey hat. The pants are a pale brown criss-crossed with white, and everything is going to get so awesomely dusty when he's worn it for a while and it's been stained. At the very bottom of the package there's a thin strip of fabric, rainbowed curves of color all over, and New Perspective doesn't know what it is but he thinks it'll look awesome with the rest of the clothes. There's also a pair of bright red socks.

Once he's done pulling on the clothes, New Perspective looks at the others. White Album is wearing a long-sleeved shirt, red with stripes of blue and orange, and a vest of light brown leather. His pants are similar to the ones the Killjoys are wearing, only less beat up and more gray, and an identical strip of fabric to the one New Perspective has is tied around his head. New Perspective would do the same, but you wouldn't be able to see it under his hat, and he likes his hat. Looking toward Photo Finish, he sees that Photo Finish is wearing a rusty red vest with a bright red shirt and pants like White Album's with socks to match his shirt. His strip of fabric is also tied around his head, which isn't super-useful to New Perspective.

Ghost Note, though. Ghost Note's wearing pants similar to New Perspective's with a similarly light-colored shirt and a vest criss-crossed with reds and grays. His strip of fabric is tied around his neck in some complicated fashion, and New Perspective grabs his and walks over to Ghost Note, holding it out. Ghost Note laughs, taking it from New Perspective and deftly tying it on in the same manner. New Perspective can't see himself, but he knows that they look pretty snazzy and definitely like an actual group. Like . . . like a family, New Perspective thinks. Yeah, like a family.

Just as they're finished dressing, a small girl barrels into the diner, going straight toward the Killjoy with the curly hair (New Perspective should probably learn their names at some point), and hugging him tightly. She's babbling about something New Perspective doesn't quite understand, all about a Cherry Cola or something, but New Perspective is more interested in the fact that she's a tiny girl. He's never seen one before, having been mostly surrounded by males with the occasional female teacher. He didn't know that they came small.

"She's tiny," New Perspective says.
"Don't let her hear you say that," the Killjoy with the black black hair says, "She'll kick your ass, New Perspective. Hey, Little Bulletproof!"

The little girl turns, beaming, and New Perspective smiles too.

"This is New Perspective. You gonna come say hi to him?"

She looks toward the curly-haired Killjoy, who nods, and then she comes running toward them. Stopping just in front of New Perspective, she waves.

"Hi, New Perspective! My name is Bulletproof Heart. Did my dads save you? Is that why you're here?"
"They did," New Perspective says, "They saved me, White Album, Photo Finish, and Ghost Note from Better Living Industries. Did they save you too?"
"That's what Party Poison likes to say. Says they found me in a wreck and brought me home to raise me up good. Party Poison is always saving people," she motions for him to bend down and then whispers, conspiratorially, "It really annoys Fun Ghoul sometimes, but mostly Fun Ghoul loves Party Poison too much to stop him."

The black-haired Killjoy squats down next to Bulletproof Heart.

"What're you whispering with New Perspective about? Telling him lies about me?"
"Always," Bulletproof Heart laughs, "Fun Ghoul."

Her grin is missing teeth, and New Perspective thinks that if this girl who'd probably lived her whole life being chased could be happy, then he could do the same. Photo Finish calls his name, and New Perspective turns toward it, walking over to them when Ghost Note waves him over. They're making plans about what to do next, because there isn't any way they can stay with the Killjoys forever, and New Perspective understands that, but he wishes that they could. It's starting to feel like he belongs, and he likes that feeling, wants to keep it close for as long as possible. White Album bumps their shoulders together, and New Perspective finds a smile for him.

"Party Poison says they can give us a ride to Dr. DeathDefying tomorrow," White Album says, "and Dr. D can help us get everything else together before we go out into the zones on our own. He also said . . . you remember the place we were at earlier? Where Ghost Note got Timpani and I picked out our clothes?"
Ghost Note looks up from Timpani, "Yeah, why?"
"They also said they can give us a ride back there," White Album shrugs, "Kobra Kid said that Peter Pan has been a little lost since his crew split up, and he seemed to take a liking to us, so he'd be willing to put up with us for a while before we head out on our own."
"I'd be okay with that," Photo Finish shrugs, "Peter Pan is a Turbine City transplant like me, and we didn't run in the same crews but we're on fairly friendly terms."
"I like him," Ghost Note taps on Timpani absently, "He seemed like a good guy."
New Perspective tries not to vibrate with excitement, "Do you think he'll let me fix up all the machinery if we go?"
Photo Finish laughs, "Yeah. I'm sure he would."

New Perspective likes that they're all in agreement about things like this. He wants to see this Peter Pan again, wants to fix every piece of broken equipment in his building, and he's glad the others don't seem to object to that plan. They shake hands in agreement, and then the sun is fading away and taking the warmth with it. Probably-Party-Poison says it's time to go to sleep, and shows them to some makeshift blanket piles that they're supposed to sleep on. It's not much better than the stiff mattress at the facility, and Brendon is exhausted so he's asleep almost as soon as he's lying down.

Sleeping under the stars is weird after spending his whole life being told when to sleep and when to wake, but New Perspective thinks he could get used to it. He dreams in bright streaks of color that paint the landscape they're rushed past, browns and flashes of green all tinted with a hazy, golden yellow. He loves it, never wants to get away from it, and when he opens his eyes on a new day he feels light for the first time in a long time. Stretching, New Perspective wanders around. He finds Bulletproof Heart sitting at one of the tables, carefully writing something on a piece of paper. New Perspective slides onto the bench across from her, and she doesn't look up until she's finished with the sentence she's writing.

New Perspective tries to see what she's written. "What are you doing?"
"Writing a letter," Bulletproof Heart says, shielding it from his view, "to my mom."
"Oh."

It's interesting, because she seems so young and New Perspective doesn't know much about her but he doesn't know anything about having a mother (or a father). All New Perspective knows is the teachers, and they all seemed to view him as a responsibility rather than something to cherish. To a certain extent, New Perspective can understand that. They weren't his parents, and it was only their job to educate him-a job that he sometimes made rather difficult-but it's suddenly sinking in how many things New Perspective has missed out on.

"What are you going to do with it," New Perspective asks, "once you're done writing it?"
"I'm going to put it in the mailbox," Bulletproof Heart says, like New Perspective's an idiot, "and the mailbox is gonna get it to her somehow, wherever she is."
"That sounds pretty awesome."

Bulletproof Heart looks up suddenly, eyes very serious and a little too wise for someone that's probably half his age. She looks at him for a long moment before producing a piece of paper and a orange, waxy writing tool. Setting them down in front of New Perspective, she smiles.

"There. Now you can write one too."

New Perspective looks down at the paper for a moment, contemplating what to write. He can feel Bulletproof Heart watching him, waiting for him to write something, and finally he picks up the waxy writing tool and writes, carefully:

Dear mom,
I don't even know why you weren't there for me or if you exist, but I hope you're okay. I'm okay, I've got a family of sorts now and I think we'll get it together. They saved me from a pretty bad situation, and maybe we're not living in luxury, but I like it fine. Maybe when you see the sun (if you can ever see the sun), you can think of me.

Your son,
Brendon New Perspective

Setting the writing tool down, New Perspective looks down at the letter for a moment before he looks up at Bulletproof Heart. She's tucking her letter away in an envelope, and New Perspective watches as she seals it up and writes to: MOM in careful lettering on the front. When she's done, she looks up and then fumbles around for an envelope. She slides it across the table when she's found it, and New Perspective folds his letter up and puts it in the envelope. He seals his envelope up and then writes to: mom in careful handwriting before smiling at Bulletproof Heart. She smiles back, which is about when the curly haired Killjoy wanders into the room.

"Writing a letter to your mom?"
"Yup," she says easily, "New Perspective wrote one to his mom too. We can put his letter in the mailbox too, right?"
"Of course," he ruffles her hair, then looks toward New Perspective, "By the way, I'm Jet Star. I know that we never got properly introduced, Party Poison is a little forgetful about that kind of thing. You're New Perspective, right?"
"Yeah," New Perspective says, "Thank you for saving us."
"No problem," Jet Star smiles, "I hear you guys are going to run with Peter Pan for a while before you strike out on your own. He's a good guy, and he'll teach you the ropes. The Turbine City folk are a little scary, being that they've been dealing with Dracs for a good while longer than us, but they're solid. You'll be okay."

Nodding, New Perspective is going to say something when Ghost Note and White Album tumble into the room. They're sleepruffled and groggy the same way they were on the first day New Perspective saw them wake up, and it makes New Perspective smile because he feels like he's seen them wake up this way for months and months instead of a few weeks. He feels like they've become part of his consciousness, something that he's always aware of and unhappy when he can't locate. White Album and Ghost Note squeeze onto the bench next to New Perspective, who scoots over to make room for them. Jet Star rummages around and comes back with three cups of absolutely vile mudwater something. He calls it coffee, but New Perspective thinks it's a little strong to be called that. Jet Star shrugs.

"Take it up with Party Poison and Kobra Kid, motorbabies. They like coffee strong enough bring back ghosted folk right quick."
Bulletproof Heart doesn't look up from what she's drawing when she speaks: "That's because in the morning Kobra Kid and Party Poison's right ghosted, Jet Star. You know they ain't living until they've had a cup or ten."
Jet Star laughs, "Very true. And, if I'm not mistaken, that's them now."

The one with the bright red hair and the one with the yellow-black hair are slowly making their way over to the coffee machine and New Perspective has to admit that he can see where Bulletproof Heart gets the impression of them being ghosted in the mornings. He can't say that he's seen many ghosted folk, but they certainly do look a little dead or otherwise incapacitated. It's kind of endearing in a totally strange way, New Perspective has to admit, and it makes them seem a lot less intimidating. The one with the red hair wanders over and glances down at what Bulletproof Heart is drawing.

"That for me or some other lucky fella, motorbaby?"
"It's for New Perspective," she says, looking up to level an impressive glare at him, "You don't get all the drawings, Party Poison. Sharing is caring."

If the one with the red hair is Party Poison, New Perspective figures that the other one must be Kobra Kid. He tries to match the names to faces and figures he'll get it eventually. Photo Finish wanders into the room then, and squeezes into the nonspace on the bench next to White Album, who hands over his coffee cup. Photo Finish, surprisingly, has no complaints about the coffee and seems to like it, if anything. Maybe it's a Turbine City thing.

Once they've finished their coffee (or rather, Photo Finish has finished the dregs of all their coffee), Bulletproof Heart slides her drawing across the table to New Perspective. It's a pretty faithful rendition of New Perspective, Ghost Note, White Album, and Photo Finish for someone her age. They're holding hands, the sun bright above them, and New Perspective runs his fingers over the waxy lines and smiles at her.

"Thank you," he says, "I'll have to bring you a present sometime soon, okay?"

He's going to say something else, but then Fun Ghoul's voice rings out through the diner.

"Are you fuckers ready to burn rubber or what?"
Jet Star rolls his eyes, "Language, Fun Ghoul!"
"Aw, it ain't like Little Bulletproof don't know what it means. Are we ready or what?"

Draining his second cup, Party Poison sets it on the table and grins at New Perspective and the others.

"I don't know. We ready, motorbabies?"
"We are," White Album says, decisive.

<< < master post > >>

This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D