Welcome To The Zones | Frerard

Chapter One

(Gerard's POV)

I lay in bed, just staring at the ceiling fan above my head. It had been exactly four hours and thirty-one minutes since I'd first decided that trying to go to sleep was a good idea and the city had gotten no quieter, nor had I drifted any closer to unconsciousness. Outside, fluorescent lights flashed, shining intrusively in to my room through the shitty blinds on my window.

And in between the moments of blankness in my mind, I've been thinking: is there really someone out there who's made for me? That's the popular belief here in Battery City. One day, according to literally everyone, I will meet the woman who was made to be exactly everything I needed in a partner. A girl who I could depend on, someone I could entrust my deepest, darkest secrets too. Someone I wouldn't mind handing my life over to. And in between the moments of blankness, I've been doubting everything. I don't think that's possible. Girls are nothing special. At least not to me.

I think everyone in this city is so caught up in taking everything Better Living has to say like it's the word of God, that they've forgotten what free will feels like. What thinking for yourself is like. And I think I could, quite possibly, be the only one in the whole city who feels this way. That makes me feel lonelier than I'd really like to admit, but it's the truth.

There are others. I know there are. The people here regard them as fantasy, as little more than a bedtime story to tell your kids, but as usual, I feel differently. I think they're real. The Killjoys, that's what they call themselves. The colorful rebels out in the zones. They felt differently. They didn't take Better Living's bullshit. And they did something about it. But, that's where my similarities to the legendary Killjoys stop. They were brave enough to do something about how they felt and I'm still stuck here sitting on my ass, waiting for the day everything will change and doing nothing to bring about this change I so desire.

Sometimes the old radio in the corner of my bedroom will pick up a signal other than the typical constant stream of bullshit the population of Bat City is fed. Sometimes the disturbingly happy newscasters will get interrupted by a wave of static. Sometimes I can almost make out words. Somebody called Dr. Death-Defying is out there, broadcasting to the Killjoys. And sometimes I can hear him too. Sometimes I can pretend I'm out in the scorching desert, fighting for my life. But then the techs up at BLI HQ get everything under control and the incident is treated like a dream, glazed over, and effectively forgotten about.

There are heavy footsteps pounding down the hallway outside my unit. Loud voices yell and somebody screams. No one's safe here. Not even my next door neighbors. And even though I've done nothing wrong other than silently doubting everything I've been raised to believe, that still scares me. I wonder what my neighbors got caught doing, or were suspected of doing, more likely. See, here in this hellhole dressed up in shining metal and flawless much-too-perfect perfection, you don't even need to do anything wrong to be persecuted. You can't leave, and you can't do anything against BLI. There's no point in even resisting.

The screaming and yelling fade and a door slams. They're gone. I numbly wonder just who will take up residence in the unit beside mine. That family was nice to me, and I just hope the next people aren't complete assholes.

You see, the people here are just raised to be judgmental. Of course, you can't really blame them considering the cutthroat way BLI runs the city. In fact, I'm not sure why I am the way I am. Perhaps I'm an anomaly. Maybe I'm defective. Who knows? All I know is I'm different. Now, whether it's a good different or a bad different is something else entirely.

*****Frank's POV*****

There is so much sand in my boots and all over my body and I want to lay down and cry myself into a sleep that will last a thousand years. We've been walking for a full thirty-two hours and I really, really want to stop but of course, Jet Star says we have to continue, and if Jet says anything, then we have to do it, no questions asked. Maybe it's obvious, but in case it's not, I have severe problems with authority. That's why I left Battery City. And I definitely didn't expect it to be exactly the same out here. One person in charge, orders followed, no objections.

Still, out here I have the option to go rogue, which is at least some freedom and I guess that's a bit better than the noose I was choking on back in Bat City. And maybe it's pathetic that even that slight of a difference makes all the difference to me, but it does because free will is so important to me. With that in mind, I resign myself to walking through this god-forsaken desert and try to lose myself in my thoughts.

I remember when I was still a resident of Battery City. I was a happy kid with a loving mother and father and I was just another practically unrecognizable face among the crowd of people dressed in neutral colors, locked in the trance that the city places on us all. And maybe I wouldn't have broken free, if not for the incident that happened when I was eleven. When the dracs and the scarecrows and...

No! I fought the surge of memories flooding in. I fought them with everything I had, knowing that if I didn't swim to shore quickly I would drown. Drown in the mess of darkness that was my past. I'd done so well, trying to forget, but I was tired dammit! And it was all Jet's fault! Jet, up on his throne, high and mighty and nothing more than a dictator dressed as Jesus!

I knew I was being unreasonable. I knew I was just letting the fatigue and exhaustion turn into rage, but at this point I was too tired to care. Jet had driven me to the point of collapsation and I nearly had to relive it!

"Ghoul!" I hear Jet's unmistakeable voice cut through the fog in my mind, jolting me out of my thoughts. I roll my eyes before turning to face him. He picked a baaaad time to talk to me. I was ready to knock the shit out of him.

"Yes sir?" I ask, unable to keep the sneer entirely out of my voice. Honestly, I want even sure why I was trying. Jet needed somebody to knock him down off his pedestal, to lower his ego a bit.

"What's up with you?" He demanded. "You've been distant and angry and violent lately and I want to know why?"

"That's unfortunate, because I'm literally the only one here who isn't going to grovel at your feet and spill everything on my mind, so you can fuck right off, sir," I told him, not quite sure where this was coming from but not quite regretting anything because, yeah, it was how I felt. I came out here to join a rebellion. I came to make a difference! But trudging across the desert in a huge-ass single file line for more than a whole day at a time on our way to nowhere, running away from the dracs and scarecrows out here, was not my idea of rebellion.

"Look, Ghoul, I really didn't want to have to do this, but you've given me no choice," Jet said shrugging. I turned back to face him. "You've clearly lost your mind. I think the heat and the radiation have really gotten to you and I can't keep you around anymore. You're a danger to everyone here and yourself. You have two choices. Go to Dr. D's and stay out of trouble, or go rogue. You're not welcome here anymore." With that the esteemed leader of the fearless Killjoys turned around and fucked off to who-know's-where, leaving me stunned and just standing there in the middle of the desert and gapeing at Jet's receding figure.

Killjoys continued to walk, following Jet to some undisclosed location. They passed me by, as I stood frozen, not sure what to think or how to feel. The Killjoy's kicked me out. Dr. D helped charity cases, and I sure as hell was not going to stoop to that level. My ego couldn't take it. I guess going rogue is my only other option. So long and goodnight, Killjoys.

Soooooo, ig this is the draft. i'll continue it if y'all think its good. let me know what u think. also, feel free to point out the mistakes, i'm sure there are a couple. 

-CC