Danger Days [ON HOLD]

Danger Days- The Black Parade Is Dead

*Party Poison’s POV*

 The first thing I noticed was that everything was sepia-tinted. Instead of being white, the clouds that loomed in the sky above me were an unusual beige colour. The clouds cut off any available sunlight and cast a melancholy feeling over the empty, desolate highway. The road was riddled with cracks and I stood alone.

 I compared this to the bright but bleakly vast desert of my California, where the sun and azure skies never ended and constantly attacked your eyes, the cracks beneath your feet were carved into compact, sun-baked sand, and I always stood beside my friends.

 Yes, I concluded, this is a dream.

 I had been to this place many times before; once in reality and then many times after that within the realms of my mind.

 I slowly rotated on the spot, arms and face pointed upwards, towards the sky and heavens, thankful for this brief escape from 2019. In spite of this, I felt strangely empty without my gang of Killjoys.

 Without Kobra Kid, Jet Star and Fun Ghoul I was incomplete.

 I heard the beating of a far off drum and my head snapped towards the direction of the distant noise. It was so quiet I was surprised I could hear it at all. I looked far into the distance… but for now all I could see was tarmac and clouds.

 And then the voice interrupted everything.

 “Look alive, Sunshine…”

 My eyes snapped open. The sepia-tint was gone and my eyes could see in full colour again. My fellow Killjoys were also waking up around me; we were lying on a cold, black and white chequered tiled floor. I sat up and looked over to the crazily decorated transmition station.

 “…109 in the sky, but the pigs won’t quit! You’re here with me, Dr. Death Defying. I’ll be your surgeon, your proctor, your helicopter; pumping out the slaughtermatic sounds to keep you alive!”

 We were stood now, pulling on our boots, fastening our holsters, checking our guns.

 “A system failure for the masses, anti-matter for the master plan!”

 Dr. D. picked up his own gun and smiled at it, winking at Show Pony who was as silent and masked as always, casually leaning against a grimy counter.

 “Louder than God’s revolver and twice as shiny…”

 We were- currently- situated in an old-style diner which we had had to partially restore after the 2012 apocalypse. On the counter that Show Pony was leant against was our breakfast; the usual crappy tinned food which had somewhat survived the seven years of war.

 “This one’s for all you rock ‘n’ rollers- all you crash queens and motor babies-”

 “LISTEN UP!” we all roared in unison.