Danger Days

Chapter Fifteen

Plastic Parade woke up in the same position that she had fallen asleep in—curled up in a ball, her head under the blanket. The buttons of the green jacket dug into her side.

When emerged from her bed, the cold stinging her cheeks, blinking the sleep from her eyes, she noticed something by the door. It was a plain black backpack, with a note on it. Upon closer inspection, the note read:

'Dear Plastic Parade,

This backpack is for you, to use on Killjoy missions, or just to hold your belongings. Every Killjoy owns one, so it is encouraged to personalize yours, to tell it apart from the others. That, or put your name on it.

- Scientific Inhale'

Plastic allowed a smile to creep onto her face, although she couldn't hide the slight anxiety knowing someone had come into her room while she was sleeping. She vowed to put a lock on the door as sooon as possible.

She looked a bit closer at the backpack, and saw that it had a plain white tag where her back would be pressed if she were wearing it. She quickly grabbed one of her mother's pencils and wrote 'Plastic Parade' in sloppy handwriting on it.

Plastic slipped a few things into the backpack (a ball of pale yellow yarn, the stuffed dog, the maroon sweater, and the pencils), just in case she suddenly had to leave in a hurry, and leaned it against the side of the dresser. Somehow, it made the room look nicer—more lived in. Plastic smiled.

She used a black pencil to scribble over the writing on the card, then wrote a simple 'thanks' on the other side, leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

She slipped the card under the door, which opened just as she was straightening up.

"Hey there," Scientific smiled, his blue eyes crinkling behind his mask.

"Hi," Plastic awkwardly chuckled. "I got you a thank you note, for the backpack. So um. Thanks." She shoved her hands harshly in her pockets, cursing her awkwardness.

"It was nothing," Scientific smiled. "Rocket and I both have on too. Say, do you want to walk to the food hall with me? It's about breakfast time."

"Sure!" Plastic chirped. The two began walking, their shoes scuffing the floor.

"Uh," she hesitated. "So I know this is a personal question, but are you and Rocket.. a thing?"

"I mean," Scientific stammered. "We didn't like, put a label on it or anything, but yeah, I think so."

"That's so cute," she gushed. "I ship it."

Scientific seemed slightly confused, but didn't question it.

"So," Plastic said after a moment. "What's your story?"

"My story?"

"You know, how did you join this group, and stuff. I don't know, I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Well," Scientific conceded. "I was born in battery city, and my older brother ran away, taking me with him. We basically just... lived in the desert until he died. I think it must have been that some Dracs poisoned the water we were drinking from, because one day he got really sick—throwing up blood, really feverish, and some... other stuff—and then he just... died. I was watching over him and I fell asleep and when I woke up he was.. all stiff, and pale. I buried him the best I could, then tried to find some other killjoys to stay with, because I basically didn't know how to do anything, survival wise, despite living in the desert most of my life. Before too long, Rocket found me, and we found this group together. I.. guess that's it."

"I'm sorry about your brother," Plastic mumbled. "I'm sure he's very happy now. Wherever he is."

"Yeah," Scientific sighed. He gave a weak smile. "He probably is."