Asylum - Danger Days {Completed}

1. Cans, Dirt, and Killjoys

Just a quick note: this story will be updated every Friday, and is based off of My Chemical Romance's music videos for "Na Na Na" and "SING". It shouldn't be too hard to follow.

"Well, I'll choose the life I've taken, never mind the friends I'm making. And the beauty that I'm faking lets me live my life like this." --- Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough For The Two Of Us

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Cans, Dirt, and Killjoys

Sweat drips down the back of my neck from the heat the sun is radiating. The underside of my hair is drenched, my throat is dry and scratchy, and my overall mood is tired and pissed. My hands brush against my jacket, wiping off the dampness. The days are hot and the nights are frigid, but I haven't found shelter just yet.

I've been walking for nearly a day, leaving behind my home in Zone 5 and heading for Zone 6. My crankiness is partially from the heat, but most of it comes from the situation I've found myself in. The group of Killjoys I was with decided I was too unstable to fit in with them, and so they gave me a choice: tone down my attitude and become a loyal disciple, or get the hell out.

Guess which one I chose?

They were a bunch of low-life creeps anyway. Bullet Transistor was the leader; I was his second in command. He was the brawn, and I was the brains. He had a tendency to jump right into conflict without taking the consequences into consideration first. I'd always had a soft spot for him, and often overlooked his many mistakes. But after the last slip-up, I couldn't take his shit anymore. I called him all sorts of things and revealed all the secrets he'd told me over the years. He tried to shut me up to save his title, even attempting to throw a few punches. But while Bullet was strong, he lacked the intelligence to realize that I could match him blow for blow. I knocked him on his ass in under five minutes. It was then that he told me I could play by his rules or hit the road.

But whatever. He's Trigger Shotgun's problem now. Let him deal with Bullet's psycho mind and serious baggage. I'm better off on my own, anyway.

I kick at the dirt beneath my feet, further caking it onto my worn boots. It already covers my feet and the very bottom of my shredded skinny jeans. The Zones aren't exactly the cleanest place in the world. But it's preferable to Battery City, in any case.

I find myself wondering why I was heading for Zone 6. I mean, there's not much out there. But there's really nothing in any of the other Zones, either. The rumor is that the diner where four notorious Killjoys live is somewhere in the direction I'm walking in, but it's been so far unconfirmed. The Fabulous Killjoys are on the run from Better Living Industries and the head exterminator, Korse, and his Draculoids, and thus are trying to remain as incognito as possible. There are "Wanted" posters hung up all around in the Zones and probably the city as well, although I haven't been in there before. As if any Killjoys would even consider turning in the Fabulous Four; they're legendary.

I'm beginning to feel dehydrated. I didn't plan very well for my desertion. The sun is making me overheat in my jacket, and I quickly slip it off and tie it around my waist. I'll put it on again in a few minutes. It's too dangerous to leave your skin uncovered for too long in the Zones; the sun makes your skin boil and blister. I'll need it again in a few hours when the sun goes down, anyway.

I try humming to myself to pass the time, but nothing makes the endless desert seem any more entertaining. I count the number of cacti I see, but lose count after thirty. I still have yet to find any abandoned buildings or Killjoy camps. You'd think there'd be more than there is. The Draculoids must be catching more of us. That's never a good sign. I need to find shelter soon, or risk being turned into a brainless Drac. That fate is worse than death.