❝𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙞𝙩! 𝙄 𝙃𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪! (𝙄 𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧, 𝙄 𝘿𝙤.)❞

✯I✯

          ➵❝Got a photograph dream on the getaway mile.❞

I wake up, trying to blink the sleep out of my eyes. It didn't really work, but A for effort. I forced myself to get up with a slight groan, sleeping on the floor hasn't been too gentle on my body, and it's usually cold.

'...I'm so getting back problems by the time I'm 30.'

I kicked the blankets off of me and reached over to my backpack I'd tossed down next to me the night before. I pulled out the slightly broken brush and tried pulling it through my long, messy black hair. Not natural, of course, just box dye. Eventually I gave up and decided what I did was good enough.

'My hair is so fucking greasy, but when is it not?  The water hasn't been on in ages, and even if it was, I've got nowhere to wash it.'

I got up and groaned one last time, stretching out a little. The old gas station convenience store I've been using as a base is rather messy and I can't be bothered to clean any of it, dust, crumbling debris and everything. In all honesty, the place probably isn't too safe, but I can't be bothered to care. Finding a bottle of water in my bag, I took a drink from it and went to get the short-sleeved jean jacket I'd tossed aside last night, too. I tug at the collar and take the slightly dirty gauze from my bag, wrapping my arms and hands again, it's the next best thing to keeping my skin safe from the overexposure to the sun out here.

Getting ready was another slow, boring thing. I sat down for a while longer, keeping my radio next to me. I didn't exactly listen in to the broadcast, since I didn't hear anything of importance. Or maybe I did and just didn't understand since I was still half asleep and Dr. Death only ever talks in weird riddles and tongue-twisters. I tied my hair back a little, low and loose as to not get a headache later. The loose strands constantly in my face pissed me off every now and then, but it's what I get for cutting my hair in a mohawk some years back and just growing it out since then.
I took the gas mask from my bag and strapped it around my gauze-wrapped leg. I fastened it firmly to my thigh and got my Killjoy mask, slipping it around my neck.

'How the hell did I even get this gas mask again? I don't remember... and I genuinely don't care anymore.'

I sighed and drummed my nails against the bright orange mask on my neck with painted tire tracks and a caution tape pattern on the edges. My nails were bitten and a little dirty, but what else can I expect from living in the Zones? I eventually got up, loosely setting my studded belt over the studded, bleach and green dyed shorts I had on.

'Time to go change the world, or die trying.'

I slipped my knee high, lace-up shoes on, slightly struggling with them before getting them on and grabbing my backpack, slinging the straps over my shoulders and walking into the old mechanic garage. God, do I wish I knew how to use any of the stuff in there. I grabbed my radio on the way out, clipping it to the waistband of my shorts, climbing onto my motorbike and heading out into the desert.

'Do I have a plan? Nope. Am I just going to find some dracs to ghost? Yep.'

I turned my bike's radio on, turning the volume up enough so I could hear it without being obnoxious.

'Hm. The Sadie Hawkins? I haven't heard that one before. New bands everyday, huh?'

I cruised around for.... not that long before hearing the familiar sounds of ray guns firing carbons. I narrowed my eyes a little, scanning the desert sands for whatever was going on. It didn't take very long to spot familiar white suits. I watched for a little, slowing my speed down and eventually swerving off the abandoned highway, behind some smaller, cliff-like rock formations.