What will save us?

The Mad Gear and Missile Kid

        The smell of sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes filled her nostrils, making her wrinkle her nose. She would never get used to the smell of the club, but she doubted she smelled any better. People swayed and danced, a sea of bright hair and equally bright clothing colliding on the dance floor. Some stumbled, some hung on to others for dear life, but overall everyone looked to be having a good time.

        The band performing that night were wonderful- they always were. They played with all they had, as if playing was saving their lives. Playing as if tonight was their last night to play, like maybe they wouldn't be alive tomorrow.Then again, who was there to say they would be? The life of a killjoy was dangerous, and we were all on the run from death, struggling to live through to the next dawn.

        The lead singer screamed into the microphone, his hands shaking, sweat dripping off his forehead and streaking his purple hair damp. Cyanide tapped her fingers on the arm of the sofa to the beat, humming along as if she had known this band her whole life rather than just for the last two weeks.  

        She found Diamond and Adrenaline in the swarming mass of bodies, dancing their hearts out. Diamond spun at an alarming speed, jerking her hips this way and that, flinging her long white hair over her shoulder as Adrenaline swayed and shimmied, trying to keep up with her. 

        "You know, it's not illegal to dance." Blast yelled at her, making sure she heard him over the loud music. He fell back onto the green striped couch she had claimed that night, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees. 

        "You see, I don't dance. I'd much rather enjoy the music from back here." She yelled back.

        "What are you afraid of? No one liking your 'sick moves'? Look over at our pal the friendly green giant," he said, pointing towards an abnormally tall man with bright green hair and matching attire. " I'm pretty sure his grandpa taught him those moves, but he's having a great time. No one around him even cares!"

        "I'll trip and make a fool of myself." She blushed, looking around to observe the dancers some more.

        "You don't even have to dance, Cy! Just go socialize! Pull the ol' Swaying palm tree and make some friends." 

        "But I don't need any friends. I have you-"

        "Besides me." Blast cut her off, smirking.

        "And Diamond, and Adrenaline, and Shotgun!" She glared at him, earning a quiet laugh.

        "Anyone outside the club you know personally?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

        "No." she sighed, exasperated. 

        "That's what I thought."

        Her eyes trailed around the room, looking anywhere but at Blast's smug face. She turned towards the entrance, watching as four men stumbled in, laughing at some unheard joke. Squinting, she recognized the bright red hair, the monster mask, the helmets. They were the group of reckless drivers she had met her first night! 

        "The Fabulous Four," Blast told her, directing her attention back to him. "They are kind of our inspiration, our leaders, almost."

        "Ha! Them? They almost ran me over!" Cyanide yelled, raising her eyebrows.

        "Nah, that's just Party. He likes to drive fast. The rest aren't that bad. The best driver is Jet Star, the one with the 'fro" Blast continued, pointing to the tallest man. "He's pretty chill. But Kobra Kid is crazy, man. He knows Kung - Fu and has a bad temper, so just stay out of his way." Blast shook his head, shrugging his shoulders.