It's Death Or Victory // A Killjoy/MCR FanFic

Chapter 28 - What's Left

"Well, I was there on the day they sold the cause for the queen, and when the lights all went out, we watched our lives on the screen.  I hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene." ~ Disenchanted

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The ride following Blood Blaster was silent, the vehicle filled with anticipation. I sat next to Ghoul and Jet in the back, with Kobra and Party in the front as usual, watching the dark landscape blur by as we followed the brightly colored Jeep back into the Zones.

Blaster and his buddy Blue Blazer, the blue haired man that was with him, opted to lead us to where the rest of the Killjoys were hiding. He revealed that there were indeed others still alive, but wouldn't say much more than that due to the fact that we were in the open and he was worried about "prickly ears" listening in.

Blood Blaster had never been the warm and fuzzy type, but despite that, he still seemed to act exceedingly cold towards us. No expression of relief that we were alive or questions about what had happened. It were almost as though he didn't want to be helping us, and that he was only doing so out of obligation or duty. I'd never been close to him, but I'd always considered him a friend, or at least a brother in arms.  Hell, he'd apparently even come to visit me when I was on death's doorstep after being poisoned by Korse.  But now, it was like none of that had ever happened, like he didn't want us here.

"You guys shouldn't have come back."

His words echoed in my head like a broken record.  What did that even mean?  Why shouldn't we have come back?  We were the Fab Five, the leaders and the faces of the Killjoy resistance since day one.  Shouldn't our return be a good thing?  What had changed so drastically in the Zones that we shouldn't have even bothered returning?  It didn't make sense, and I couldn't fathom what our old comrade might've meant.

The drive flew by, despite it taking a couple hours to arrive at our destination, and it was well past midnight when we pulled up to the abandoned ruins of what appeared to be an old BLI warehouse of some sort.  We followed the Jeep, pulling through one of the garage-like doors and parking inside.  Blaster and Blazer got out and hoisted a large bent piece of sheet metal, placing it over the doorway, sealing us inside.

The building smelled strongly of dust and explosives.  The only light was the glowing moon, filtering in through the many collapsed parts of the ceiling.  Rubble littered the ground like a minefield, and we followed the two killjoys carefully as they picked their way through it across the building.

Blaster pushed open a creaky door with a sign that said "stairwell," and we followed him down the crumbling steps in the dim light.  It was dead silent save for our footsteps and light breathing, not even the sounds of the night able to reach us through the thick concrete walls. After descending a few floors, the stairs stopped and we stood in front of a single door.  I could feel my anxiousness rising just looking at it.  What was beyond it?  The Killjoys for sure I knew, but I could sense that it was much more than just our old comrades behind the few inches of metal.  It felt sinister and unknown, and I instinctively reached out and laced my fingers with Ghoul's, needing the reassurance.

Blaster stopped at the door, turning to face the five of us.  "This is your last chance to turn around," he said, staring each of us in the eye.  I couldn't tell if it was a request or a test to see what we would choose.  It was impossible to read the man.  "You can walk back up those stairs, drive out of here, leave the Zones, and go back to whatever lives you were living before you showed up back here."

Party shook his head.  "That's not an option.  Even if we had lives to return to, we have a job to finish here.  We made our decision the moment we stepped back into the Zones."  Party stepped forward, hand outstretched towards the door handle,  but Blaster intercepted him, stepping in front of the white haired man almost as though he were a bouncer at a club, blocking him from entering.