Plastic Parade is an average Killjoy. She spends her time running from BL/ind, looking for shelter, and finding food.
But one day, she gets in an accident. She is wounded, and found.
But not by who she thought.
She is taken in, and is given a place...
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Plastic woke with a start. She had a strange nightmare involving a giant yellow trampoline, candy canes, and velociraptors.
She shook off her sleepy feeling and blinked. It was early, probably four or five. But then, Plastic had never been great at telling time. It could also be two or six.
She sat up from her bed and shook the dust off herself with a high-pitched sneeze.
As quietly as she could, she crept from her bed. Now would be a good time to explore, while everyone else was asleep.
She walked down the hallway, looking at all the different colored doors. Nicotine's was red with a black spider on it, and quiet snores came from the inside.
She continued along until making it to the courtyard. It was empty, and dark, but fireflies danced through the air. Plastic had never seen fireflies before.
She followed one for a little bit before reaching out quickly to grab it out of the air. She looked at it down in her hand, and it flew up quickly into her face. She leapt back.
Suddenly a laugh rang out from one of the doors. It was open. Intense Revenge stood there, smiling crookedly.
"Jerk," she muttered to herself, walking over to him. "So what are you doing up this early?"
"Working."
She frowned. "On what?"
He ignored her and went back into the room, closing the door.
She followed him, to see a garage filled with cars of all shapes and sizes. The hood of an old black Firebird was up, and it's parts were scattered on the floor. Intense leaned over into it, his arms and face stained with grease.
"You're a real motorgoblin huh?"
He turned to glare at her. "The hell did you just call me?"
"I called you a motorgoblin," she snorted. "Someone who likes working on cars? Motorbaby? Ring a bell?"
He let out a snort and went back to working.
"I guess I'll leave you here then."
He did not respond.
"Don't smash your fingers in the hood."
Silence.
Plastic left. The air was cold, and she was without her sweat shirt.
A bit of light shone from over by the door to the kitchen. Actually, not shone. More like... something she couldn't describe. A very faint glow.
She walked over to it, to see a tall girl catching fireflies in a jar. Her hair was long and black, with neon green, pink and blue tips. She would blend in with her turtleneck and hair alone, but her jeans were neon green, and she wore dozens of glow braclets on her arms.
