It's all Linn's fault. And totally a WIP. You get it raw, as it happened. Because I'm not writing fic. Really. Even if Mikeyway's hot, and Frank's badass and Gee's srs bsns.

Linn's commentary as I go is great, the perfect Greek chorus of a motorbaby in need.

Untited as fuck, since it's not being written.


Linn: unffff

Linn: God, I want so much porn

Bee: Mikeyway in his Flintstones shirt.

Bee: See, I want badass fic that's all tension and no porn

Linn: *snort* And his pants that are halfway down his ass

Bee: Frank killin' bitches, Gee impressed, but no sexin'

Linn: *laughs*

Bee: As long as they're snug on that ass, I don't care where Mikey's pants sit

Bee: and they all do have stare-at-my-crotch pants

Linn: They all do

Linn: Also, I notice that they've all got dirt lines on their thighs

Bee: yeah

Bee: well, desert, duh

Linn: Yep. And as soon as you sit down...

Bee: I do wish Mikey's jacket had slightly longer sleeves, but it fits the story that they're like 2 inches too short

Linn: that dust gets everywhere

Bee: yep

Bee: hell, when it's windy at all, you don't even need to sit

Bee: and even with sunglasses, the dust gets in your eyes

Linn: Yeah, but to get those creases, I mean

Bee: yeah

Bee: ...and I am not going to write you IM fic about Killjoys





Bee: Once the sun goes down, it's cold. The desert was always like that, and they sort of knew this. But it didn't really hit until *everywhere* was desert and suddenly it matters what time of day it is. There are really only 2 hours to the day that are comfortable - dusk and dawn. Otherwise it's scorchingly hot or so damn cold Mikeyway can't stop shivering, no matter how hard he tries.

Bee: Shopping's a pain in the ass, but somehow Frank manages to find a jacket that *almost* fits Mikey; cold wrists are an improvement on the full body shakes, on being too cold to sleep. The other guys aren't quite as suseptible to the cold, but when everything went to shit, Mikey'd gotten sick and they almost lost him. They did lose Bob, but there wasn't time or energy to mourn - it was survive or die.

Linn: ...

Bee: what?

Linn: ;_______________________________;

Linn: BAWB


Bee: BUT I HAD TO. (canon - I think his surgery probably didn't help as much as he'd hoped and that the docs said he has to give up drumming)

Linn: (Yeah. This is my headcanon as well, no matter what anybody else says.)

Bee: (unless the band says otherwise, and it seems unlikely they will)

Linn: (They only did once with Otter, and they've learned since then. Now tell me more.)

Bee: At first it was just chaos, everything gone to hell. As bad as that was, Mikey still too weak to do much of anything and everyone in LA - and everywhere else - freaking out worse than post-9/11 and Y2K combined, looking back it seems like they had it easy. That was before they had to flee, after all. Before everything'd gone down into gangland lines in the sand.

Bee: Ray, calm serious Ray, is the one that arms them. The internet is crippled, nothing really the way it was before. But there's enough out there to find the plans he needs, and he's the only one with the electronics experience to take the plans he finds and turn them into reality; what they see in the streets is proof enough they need something more than Frank's fists and a knife or two.

Bee: Wearing the ray guns - Frank had snickered a few times over that, and asked why his doesn't have a fro - makes them feel stronger. Visible weapons decreases the chances anyone attacks them, marks that they're not easy prey.

Linn: (*snerk* Frank.)

Bee: Gerard's jittery for the first week, but he gets used to it. Doesn't pull it often, but his hand gets steady when they practice.

Bee: They all learn how to do basic repairs with the soldering iron. Just in case.

Bee: (dude, I snicker about it. Frank totally would.)

Linn: (You're both losers. Go on.)

Bee: But having the ray guns also draws attention of the worst sort. Mikey's the first one to notice; with his strength returning, he goes out more. Since his surgery, he's been the one with the best vision, so he usually takes on scouting duty.

Bee: At first he just watches out for them, but Frank's so restless that when Mikey talks in his quiet way about the shit he sees on the streets, Frank goes vigilante. Nothing too serious, not getting caught up in the drug wars or anything. But when people who are clearly helpless are getting fucked with, Mikey knows who to tell. They dig up an old set of Ninja Turtle walkie talkies - they're short range, but it's enough for them.

Bee: It's after that when Mikey notices they're being watched too.

Bee: It's spooky, but as long as nothing's happening, they can't waste energy worrying about it. Except late at night, when Mikey's tossing and turning and Gerard's eyes are getting bigger because he can't turn his mind off even when he knows he should. So they watch the watchers, and wait, and keep policing their neighborhood.

Linn: Korse and his goons?

Bee: of course

Bee: The girl's scared when Mikey spots her. Scared, but in that tough way where she's trying to act five times her size and confident as balls. He knows a set-up when he sees one; apparently the watchers are tired of waiting.

Bee: They know their weakness, the way Gerard softens just that little bit on the outside when they see a kid. The guys will take one in every once in a while, sometimes for a day or two, more often just for a can of beans - motorbabies are usually too hungry to say no to free food, but they didn't survive this long by trusting strange men. Even strange men that smile and crack horrible jokes - "No, really, Frank, that was nasty!"

Bee: But it's a kid, so he calls Frank on the walkie, tells him it's an Ackbar and that he'd better rally the troops.

Bee: Ray's not exactly a pro with cars, but he's managed to get this old hunk of junk into working shape. "It has to be an old car," he'd explained. "Steel, none of this modern fiberglass shit." They all understood.

Bee: So Gerard and Mikey pack up what they need - not much, mostly food and water. Bottled water's the key to surviving; natural water supplies are mostly contaminated and there's no way they can fight that kind of sickness, especially on the road.

Bee: They're not coming back, not to LA. Not if they can help it.

Linn: And??

Bee: *g* the end

Linn: Bitch

Linn: You promised me UST, now deliver

Bee: I'm fucking with you. I had to go make my dye

Bee: It's a disaster. A mother-fucking disaster. Because whatever they were expecting, it was never this. Not even close, even knowing it's a trap.

Bee: There's blood everywhere, and yelling, and the plan - if you could call "grab the girl and pedal to the metal" a plan - fails utterly, even with how simple it is.

Bee: Gerard's pinned down, of fucking course, and still hesitating. The ray gun wavers when he points it at someone, even though it's someone that they know won't surrender.

Bee: Frank, on the other hand, is a mother-fucking cowboy. Mostly gut shots, as gruesome as they are, but he's gotten a couple of the goons on the ground when he whirls towards Gerard, who has gone unusually silent. He shoots first, then drags Gee back to the car. The bright sun's almost blinding, too much to see if Gerard's bleeding, if he's dying. But he's still alive, gasping for huge mouthfuls of air. Frank shoots another goon, yelling for the others to "Get the fuck in the car, assholes, let's motor!"

Bee: The girl's riding bitch, short enough that even her wild hair isn't obstructing the rearview mirror. He slams on the gas and tires squeal as they jet out of town.

Bee: There's another vehicle in the mirror, and Frank knows they're not going to outrun these guys forever. They gotta regroup, do some fucking research.

Bee: When Ray fixes the radio in the car - Mikey'd begged, even though Ray told him all the stations were dead, because he fucking misses music like it's runs in his veins alongside red bloodcells - they find Dr. DeathDefying. Between his station - the only station, Ray hadn't been wrong about the others - and the gossip they pick up refueling and eating at shitty diners that serve the same crap they have filling their trunk, just as bland, they start getting a better picture of how things are.

Bee: Apparently there's more to it than just surviving, now.

Linn: (So why are THEY being hunted? By Korse and the Dracs, I mean.)

Bee: (you say this like I know anything. I'm just writing.

I know what they know. Which is jack fuck. But I assume Korse has issues with their vigilante justice thing)

Linn: (And his issues will keep on coming when they manage to avoid asswhooping time and time again, I assume)

Bee: (and it's escalate into this big thing. They don't name themselves the Killjoys. That's what others start calling them, because of fucking course they get bigger than what they meant to be. It was just doing the right fucking thing, and now they're some kind of underground heroes, what the fuck)

Bee: (, don't rewrite a sentence partway in. *it's escalated)

Linn: It's kind of cool, but also weird and scary and augh

Bee: Gerard's sure if they can find Dr. DeathDefying, they'll get more answers. But nobody knows where he's based. It's a big secret, probably to keep anyone from hunting him down. Which is great when the issue is Korse and company, but not so much helpful to the guys.

Bee: this whole album is going to make us all go "weird" *click repeat*

Linn: Word to that

Linn: So tell me more

Bee: On the road, the desert's worse. In the city, they could hardly tell but now- Dust is everywhere. It gets into their bottled water, no matter how fast they put the cap back on. It gets in their hair so much it feels like it'll never come out, no matter how much they scrape their fingernails across their scalps. It settles into the crinkles around Gerard's eyes, even behind his huge sunglasses. He feels dry all the time, dry and squinty and somehow almost clean; the dust makes it hard to actually get greasy even when they go a week or two without bathing beyond a quick splash in a sink with stale water.

Linn: Of course that would be a bonus with him

Bee: well, yeah

Bee: They'll toss around theories, Ray waving his hand as he tries to figure out the words for what he's thinking. The computer got abandoned when they left, but apparently there's a newspaper still in production. They first notice when one blows onto the windshield of the car, their own faces looking back at them.

Bee: Whoever's putting out the paper is clearly on Korse's side; it makes them out to be something so much more than they are. All they did was stop some menacing and thievery. They didn't even kill anybody until that last fight, and Frank's not sure that anyone actually died then either. They were all a bit more focused on getting the fuck out of Dodge.

Bee: Nobody seems to buy the paper, at least nobody admits to putting money in Korse's pockets, but there's always a tattered copy of the latest issue, making the rounds. In the margins, people ink in where the paper's been, and if anybody's headed a place it hasn't gone yet, they bring it when they go.

Bee: For whatever reason, the motorbaby sticks with them. Whenever they ask about it, she shrugs and says she'll move on without them when the wind's right. It's classic motorbaby talk, but it's not like the guys mind having her around anyway.

Linn: Stop making lenghty pauses. Then what?

Bee: I am working on dyeing clothes. I had to go check on that, since I'm supposed to be stirring it constantly, and clearly am not doing so

Bee: Bit by bit, they piece together rumor and things that aren't quite rumor, and start making notes of anything Dr. DeathDefying says. Gerard keeps them in a notebook in the glovebox and the motorbaby writes them carefully in big, round handwriting; Frank says she has to, since it's not like she can go to school or anything. Mikey corrects her spelling, because his might not be perfect but it's better than Gerard's or Frank's and usually Ray's driving.

Bee: They find a map and mark out the range of the station, knowing it's gotta be somewhere near the center. Unless Dr. DeathDefying's mobile too; they have no idea how to even start tracking him down, if that's the case.

Bee: But he doesn't seem to be, and when they get close, finally ready to go door to fucking door if they have to, there's a guy on rollerskates that almost kicks Frank in the head.

linnisabell: I'm impressed with Showpony's balance, I have to admit

Bee: I know, right?

Bee: Frank grins and Gerard can't help grinning too. "Can you get a message to him?" he asks, ripping a fresh page from the notebook and scribbling quickly. The skater leans against the wall, obviously bored, until Gerard hands him the paper and he skates away in a cloud of dust.

Bee: "That was Showpony," Ray says once he's gone. Dr. DeathDefying has mentioned him a few times, but it's still almost a fannish moment, realizing they've met him now.

Linn: I'm sure the feeling was mutual

Bee: *grins* possibly.

Bee: although Showpony's obviously the biggest fangirl Dr. DD has

Bee: not sure he has energy to fan anyone else

Linn: True dat

Bee: They slip into the diner, eating while they wait for an answer, any kind of an answer. Motorbaby finds a pinball machine, and leaves them to her food so she can try to wrestle it into working.

Bee: Normally, Gerard would be making a face, sick of beans for every damn meal. But he's too distracted to care and hungry enough his stomach doesn't care what he eats. He could probably eat lizards and shoe leather and his stomach would just beg for more; it's a big change from the days of living off coffee. Coffee doesn't exist anymore - too dehydrating, and it's not like they could import the beans anyway.

Linn: Not beans, bro. Dog food

Linn: Finest government kibble

Bee: coffee beans, motherfucker

linnisabell: Beans for every meal, asshole

Bee: is so beans

Bee: not kibble!

Linn: Nope. Kibble.

Bee: says who?

Linn: GeeWay!/gerardway

Bee: where?

Linn: Background! Look at it

Linn: Those are the exact cans from the video

Bee: ohhhh

Bee: fine, fine, kibble

Linn: Thank you

Bee: pre-moistened kibble

Linn: Yes

Bee: They've been on the road long enough Gerard doesn't remember what it's like to be still. He almost hates leaving the car, his body conforming to it like home. Even sitting in the diner, he can feel the thrumming of the engine in his thighs. His back's sore as fuck, muscles screaming for attention when an hour ago they were silent; they seem to like the car better too.

Bee: Frank's thumb presses into the small of his back, the pressure loosening the ache. Gerard gives him a quick smile between bites of kibble, arguing with Ray even though his mouth is full.

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