A Bullet's Embrace: A Danger Days Fan Story

PART 0: No One Wants To Die (Prologue)

FOREWORD FROM THE AUTHOR:
So this is kind of meant to be an exercise in writing. It's been a long time since I tried writing anything. Mostly Terry Pratchett-esque comedic fantasies that I got bored of writing after the first chapter. Mainly because I think my ambitions outweighed my patience and very short attention span. So in the vein of trying not to let myself get carried away. I give you 'A Bullet's Embrace'. a Danger Days fan-fiction story concerning my own original Killjoy (I suppose self insert author surrogate) and something akin to an origin story.

How long this will go on for I have no idea. I'm just doing it for practice but I've been a fan of MCR for years now and Danger Days has not only always been my favourite album of MCR's but also one of my most favourite concept albums ever. A few months ago I read The Umbrella Academy and the True Loves of The Fabulous Killjoys for the first time, and since I lack the patience to write and draw and colour comic books, I wanted to write something to do with the Danger Days universe, and that's why this is less a fan fiction of the album and more of a fan fiction for the comic. so... here it is...

READER WARNING - THIS PIECE OF FICTION CONTAINS:-
-Very Strong Language
-Strong Violence
-Mild Terror

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Can't breathe. Can't see. Can barely hear the mutterings of the S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.Ws dragging me through what I can only assume to be clean, clinical corridors of white and beige. The burlap sack over my head only letting in patches of the luminescent lights illuminating my surroundings.

Still a little dazed from the stun gun they hit me with out in the zones, can barely feel my legs and they have my arms crudely restricted with a couple of zip ties. I hear a muffled announcement over the tannoy. A voice that is unmistakably that of Korse, Head of BLInd's S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W division.

"Attention all personnel, we have ourselves a 'visitor'. As we speak, he is being transported to debriefing room three. This prisoner is believed to have information on the group of radicals known to the Killjoys as the 'Fabulous Four'. Do not, I Repeat, Do NOT attempt to speak to this individual. although unarmed he is still to be considered extremely dangerous. Although unconfirmed, we believe he is responsible for the deaths of at least 13 S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W Exterminators and the dispatch of over 40 Draculoids. I will deal with this individual personally. Chief S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W Enforcer Korse, Out."

My god what a fucking asshole.

my senses slowly began returning, I heard the swiping of a keycard and the sound of a door opening before they dragged me through it, my bare feet catching on the lip of the door frame.

"Ow, Jesus! Do you mind?!" I manage to slip past my lips, still slurred from the rather violent tazing earlier.

"Target is active. Repeat. Target is active."

"Get him cuffed down now!"

I feel the two guards doing just that. I can feel movement return to my muscles, but not quick enough to put up anything more than a weak protest. The two have me cuffed to the chair in less than half a minute. Just as my senses start to sharpen back to normality, They pull the sack roughly off of my head, but my eyes do not have the time to adjust as I find myself staring down a blindingly bright light in an otherwise dark room. I can just about make out the shape of a steel table and a second chair laid out in front of me.

As my eyes continue to adjust, I begin to see two human shapes stood in each corner of the room opposite me. their hands ready on their holsters. A third shape enters my vision, and stands in font of the blinding light like an angry silhouette... a tall, svelte, very bald silhouette.Korse.

I muster up all my bravado and showy arrogance, I've heard what this guy can do to get a Killjoy like me to talk.

"Hey Korse, how's the whole secret police thing going? if it's not going so well you could always audition to be Dr. Evil at the Battery City Theatre's production of Austin Powers."

"This isn't a time for jokes rebel."

"Honestly I'm just disappointed you weren't sitting in a spinning chair stroking a bald cat."

"You're very funny. you're going to need that sense of humour for what I've got planned for you."

"Well I'd heard humour is comforting in stressful situations, which is good because the light radiating off that dome of yours is getting in my eyes and another 30 minutes of it is really gonna stress me out, seriously do you wax that thing?!"

he stays silent, I put on a not very convincing smile. I have no guns, no armour, no car, not even my shirt or shoes and absolutely no way out of this room. Trapped with two armed guards and a BLInd programmed attack dog by the name of Korse. I'm strong, really strong. But even if I did tear the cuffs off of me, the guards would fill me full of laser blasts before I got onto both feet.

"Are you going to tell me where Poison is and the rest of his little troupe of degenerates are?"

"Not a clue, I've been running with Val Velocity's crew for the past few months. I don't know where Poison is."

I'm lying.

"I know you're lying."

fuck.

"I know you're lying because we've had that set of reprobates under surveillance for weeks now ever since they made a rather sloppy, heavy handed raid on a BLInd processing facility out in Zone 4. Do I have to start pulling teeth out of your skull before I can pull the truth out of you?"

"I've been running supplies for the kids out in the Zones."

I'm still lying.

"You've been sighted running arms to the rebels with one..." one of the guards passes him a file which he proceeds to scan through "...Cherry Cola."

My eyes involuntarily open wide, I can't believe I got that poor kid mixed up in this. He's already been grabbed by S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W once before , I can't let him go through that again.

"I see that got your attention." he smiles, god that smile creeps me out. "If you don't tell me where the four are, I'll drag that kid in and he will not be coming back out."

He's not bluffing, I can tell by his eyes. he's not bluffing.

"alright, alright, al-fucking-right! I'll tell you what I know."

He places his fists on the table and he leans in close, just close enough for me to try something really stupid, so moronic, so absolutely fucking dumb that it might just work. 

"I'm listening."

"What I know is... is that you're probably the biggest fucking idiot I've ever met. don't get in a prisoner's face. Rookie mistake."

The crunch of my forehead meeting the bridge of Korse's nose forces a smile out of me. As he's reeling I tense my arms hard with all the strength I can summon and pull the chair underneath my apart like steel Legos. In flurry of action, I grab Baldy by the throat and throw him into one of the guards, before he's able to pull his pistol, as if by pure survival instinct, flip the table in the direction of the second. the hard, steel edge makes contact with the guard's head, slamming it into the concrete wall behind him with an audible crack, leaving a splatter of blood behind. I'm running almost completely on adrenaline now. I can't stop panting heavily.

I grab the now, I can only imagine, very dead guard's raygun and charge at the door, throwing all two hundred and twenty pounds of my weight at it, shoulder first and with a clattering thud, the whole door gives, and I find myself in a blindingly bright corridor, the floor cold on my bare feet. I hear Korse and the other guard scrambling to give chase and I know I have to move. Doesn't matter the direction, as long as it's away from that room.

I just run. I run with the sound of their guns going off behind me and the fizzing pop of the laser bolts hitting the walls and ceilings around me. I clutch my shoulder and whince. I guess throwing myself at a steel security door wasn't such a good idea when in hindsight I could have just blasted the lock with the gun I'm holding in my other hand.

I charge through another door at the end of the corridor, thankfully not barging it from it's frame this time. With Korse hot on my tail, I have to think quick. The only thing I can think to do is tip a nearby cabinet against the door. just in time too, as I hear the screaming and slamming of a very angry, bald man from the other side of the door.I turn around to get my bearings and find myself in their contraband and vehicle lock up. Finally some luck. Clothes and weapons of probably dead or Dracced Killjoys... And hopefully my Baby Girl.

I root through the clothes quickly to pull on a vest, and a pair of boots. the vest is a little tight, but not surprising, most killjoys tend to be a little on the slim or athletic side. Not the broad, muscular built like myself.Turning my attention to the vehicles in lock up, consisting of lots of dull, grey BLInd suppression vehicles, S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W cruisers and Armoured Personnel Carriers mixed in with a series of impounded, vibrantly painted, modified muscle cars. I scan around frantically, knowing every second I waste looking is a second closer to Korse getting through the door, or worse, he catches on with my plan and locks down the garage gates. If that happens I'm fucked.

"There you are!" I gasp in excitement. The love of my life.

And there she was. my matte black, Modified V8 Interceptor. As retro as they come, complete with gull wing doors and 8-track player. My 'Baby Girl'. She even had my pistols still inside her, two chrome plated Killjoy Classics, hanging from the mirror like a pair of very dangerous fuzzy dice.

I have no time to get sentimental. Time is Running out. I hit the ignition, gunning for the gate. aiming my pistol out of the window for the door control. a squeeze of the trigger, an air crackling 'ZAP!', the roar of the V8 Engine and I. Am. Out of there!

"Yeehaw! fuck you, you S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W shitwhistles! service here is fucking awful! zero stars!"

I have no idea what is coming out of my mouth.

I'm finally back out into the wide, sprawling desert, the zones, my home. Just me, my baby girl and the open road. No S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W exterminator is going to keep me down. Not when I've got so much work to do. I flick the radio on to hear the ever comforting rambling's of the man himself; Dr. Death Defying.  However, my ears are greeted instead by a different, less comforting familiar voice.

"Attention all S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W patrol units, This is Korse. I am placing an APB on the rebel dissident known as 'Saint Cyanide'. 5 foot 9, muscular build, black hair. distinctive scar across the right eye. Last seen driving a black modified Interceptor and heading east towards Zone 2. I will personally reward fifty thousand carbons to anyone who brings him in alive. I want that Killjoy. Transmission over."

Christ I hate this station.

I adjust the dial on my radio until I find the station I was looking for...

"Look Alive, Sunshine..."

To Be Continued...

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NEXT TIME: Saint meets up with Dr. Death Defying and Show Pony, and sets out on a journey across the zones on a life-or-death mission that could change the course of the fight against Better Living Industries.

NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR:
Well, that's a start at least. I've only got a rough idea where this thing is going so I'd be happy to take on suggestions. And to answer a question before it's asked: Yes, Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, Jet Star and The Cobra Kid or all probably going to make an appearance in this, although I want to shine a light on the less well known Killjoy characters like Show Pony, Cherry Cola and Val Velocity.

There may be smut (gay and straight) in future updates but I have no concrete plans, I'd like this more to be an actual adventure story, though it's heard of that people find comfort in the physical company of others during stressful situations.

EDIT:  Okay, so the more I slept on the last few paragraphs of this, the more I hated it. It sure seemed REALLY fucking cool at midnight with a few Amaretto and Cokes in me. However reading it back it was so fucking cringe I just wanted to crawl up inside my own body and die. I've edited so it's a little less gnawingly cliche.