Sweet Vendetta //Danger Days//

1. Twenty Four

For someone with such tiny hands, man, could I ever play the bass.

I prided myself on few things, but my musical ability was something that I had grown rather fond of. My hands moved with ease down the neck of the dented black bass, picking away to an old song I had forgotten the name to. After hours of sitting in the empty recording studio of Dr. Death Defying's shack, my fingertips had grown rough edges, and I was ready to call it a day. I placed the bass back on it's stand, and sat quietly on the carpeted ground.

I had pretty much claimed this studio as my own. I decorated it with old Christmas lights that were doomed to never glow again. There were posters and photo's covering the brown walls, and a small mirror in the corner. Surrounding the mirror were four old Better Living Industry fliers, each one showing the seemingly insensate faces of four men. Their photo's were crossed with a bold red 'x', a symbol of rebellion among the organization.

This was a tribute to my fallen friends.

Seven years ago, Jet Star, Fun Ghoul, Kobra Kid and Party Poison died in the lobby of B.L.I. I watched their blood fall to save mine, and I never forgot it. I walked closer to the mirror. Further away was a poster of a girl with bright blue hair. I hardly recognized her. Her face was much softer. I looked in the dirty mirror and saw nothing that could remind me of the Atomic in the poster. My hair fell across my shoulders in dark red waves, and my cheeks were hollow and battered. I had scars littering my body from countless battle wounds, and age had begun to settle in my eyes. The seventeen year old died with the rest of her group. Miss Atomic Bomb changed. Next to my old wanted poster was a smaller collection of photographs. Little windows into my world all those years ago. Party Poison was sitting on the hood of his classic Trans AM, which I had now claimed as mine. He tried to make his face look professional and serious, but I could tell he was struggling to hold back his laughter. Just below that photo, Fun Ghoul carried my younger brother, Mad Gear, on his shoulders. The little boy had grown so much, and I sometimes missed when he was young. Jet Star was chasing Missile Kid around the ancient diner that was once my home. Party was sitting cross-legged on the ground, my head in his lap.

Those were the days I missed the most. The days where I could just be young were over. I traced my fingers across the photo's, until I was taken out of my daze by a rough knock at the door.

"Come in." I coughed, turning away from the photos. The wooden door creaked open, and my second-in-command, Val Velocity, stepped inside. His white hair was sticking out at odd angles under his grey and red mask.

"Fancy seeing you here." He smirked, resting his shoulder against the walls.

"Yeah, well, where else would you find me?" I rolled my eyes, turning back to the photo's. Val walked up beside me, observing the covered wall.

"Jeez, are you sure it's healthy to have that many pictures on a wall?" He teased.

"What can I say? I'm a slut for remembering my dead boyfriend and how much of a better leader he was. I'm shit compared to him." I bit my cheek, facing the much taller Killjoy. Just the other day, a group of Killjoys ran into a group of Dracs. Five of them got out alive, but one of them was killed. I didn't know who they were, but they were utterly unprepared.

"Oh, lighten up a little. It was one bad fight, but it could have been worse." Val sighed in annoyance.

"One bad fight? Somebody died!" I retorted, widening my eyes at how small he thought the issue was.

"One person, out of how many? Be lucky it wasn't somebody we know." Val hissed, his voice hushed. I opened my mouth to argue, but couldn't really find anything to say. I was lucky to still be alive. It's a miracle that I hadn't been dusted yet. What was I expecting? I couldn't possibly believe that I could save everyone.