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.
"What about him?" Cyanide asked, looking at the shorter man towards the back. He pulled of his mask, oily black hair spilling out and hanging in his face. He brushed the stray strands back with his fingers, looking around the Hyper-Thrust before making eye contact with her and slowly grinning. She blushed, thankful for the dim stringed lights, and he winked at her. She broke the contact and looked at Blast, who had watched the awkward encounter.
"Oh no sister. He's bad news. He's probably had 20 girlfriends this month-"
"Blast, it's only the thirteenth." she interupted him.
"I know! Thats my point; he goes through girls as quick as cigerattes. He's not a bad guy, don't get me wrong. He just has some serious commitment issues and loves to flirt. He's a little old for you, anyways."
"Exactly how old do you think I am?" Cyanide huffed, her cheeks burning once again. "And how old is he?"
Cyanide watched the so-called flirt walk towards her through the swarming crowd of bodies, his group of friends in pursuit. Now seemed like the perfect time to go listen to music.
"Actually, I'm just going to go take your advice and go make friends, 'kay?" Cyanide said, quickly pushing herself off the couch and heading towards the front of the dancefloor closest to the stage.
"Make good choices!" Blast yelled after her, earning a few laughs from those who surrounded him. Blushing furiously, she continued on. People around her stumbled, bumped into her, and brushed her arm as she walked, trying to avoid the groping hands of those who had had too much to dirnk.
Someone grabbed her elbow tightly, and she grit her teeth together, a string of profanities running through her head as she turned to face her captor.
"Woah there killer! I just wanted to say hi!" Fun Ghoul chuckled, causing her to blush yet again. He let go of her arm and started to nod his head to the beat, lifting his arms and casually dancing to the music.
She bit her lip and followed his example, slightly swaying to the beat.
"So, I've only met you once, and you never did tell me your name. I'm Fun Ghoul, but all my friends just call me Ghoul." he smirked, lifting his shoulders and doing a weird dance she doubted anyone considered cool.
"Blue Cyanide," she laughed, "Just Cyanides's okay."
"So 'Just Cyanide', whats your 4-1-1?" He asked, shaking his hips at her.
"Uhm, I have no idea what your asking me. Are you asking for my phone number?"
"No, no no!" he laughed at her. "Sorry, your a new killjoy. I forget. 4-1-1 means your info, as in your story. Why you hear, what's your purpose, etcetera etcetera. Got a place to stay?" he asked, looking into her eyes.
"Uhm, yeah. Yes I have a place to stay, I meant. I stay here." she rushed out, looking anywhere but at Ghoul.
"Oh, the Hyper-Thrust? Shiny! I though you were just a tumbleweed."
"Nah, this is my home, my humble abode." Cyanide smiled, looking around the room as the band continued on.
"You wanna go towards the back? I can barely hear myself think, much less hear you talk."
"Uh sure, yeah that's cool I guess." Cyanide said, looking around the room for Blast. She could almost feel his disapproving stare at her retreating form. Ghoul grabbed her hand and she let him lead her towards the bar. Diamond caught her gaze and raised her eyebrows up and down with a grin,and Adrenaline bit his tongue and gave her two thumbs up. Cyanides eyes went wide as she jerked a hand across her throat, trying to explain without words what was really happening, but they both had already turned away, caught up in the music once again.
Cyanide gulped. Her palm was sweaty inside Ghouls large hand. As they arrived at the bar she quickly jerked her hand out of his and rubbed it on her jeans, sliding onto the old leather barstool. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, sliding onto the stool next to her.
"Loving the change of hair color," he said, taking a blue strand in between his fingers. He observed it closely, inspecting it the way some here inspected their food. "Why is only some of it blue and not all of it?"
"We ran out of dye and I've just been to lazy to fix it." She explained sheepishly, suddenly feeling embarrassed of her new hairstyle.
"Very nice." he said softly, letting it fall back against her cheek.
"So, uhm, what do you do for fun?" she asked, quickly trying to get his attention anywhere but her face.
"Motorbaby all the way! We like to push it to the red line, go as fast as we can! Get in a few claps with dracs, but they're the only ones that get ghosted." he smirked at her, leaning against the bar.
"Claps? Dracs? Ghosted?" Cyanide asked, the new words feeling foreign on her tongue.
"You know, draculoids. The Killjoy killers hired to exterminate all those in the zones. They wear vampire masks, so we call 'em draculoids. They like to party, but aint nobody party like us." he grinned, turning towards the bar.
"What'll you be havin' Gho- Cyanide?? What're you doing with a fabulous killjoy?" Shotgun asked, forgetting Ghoul and turning to face her.
"Oh, uhm, we just started talking and he's just kind of explaining stuff to me, you know?" She sputtered out, fumbling over her words and trying not to look too lame.
"Ahh, I see. I'll get you two kids beer-on the house!" He smiled at her before walking back to get the beverages.
Ghoul laughed at her, resting a hand on the counter and bending over in his stool as laughter shook his chest.
"I feel like he's your dad!" He huffed out, the laughter slowly dying out.
"He's not. He likes to act like it, though." Cyanide said, glancing at Shotgun out of the corner of her eye.
"Where are your parents? You look awefully young to be out here working in a club." he asked, looking past her to see where their beverages were at.
"Gone. Dead. And I'm 17, not that young thank-you-very-much." She said, trying her hardest to keep her voice even.
"Oh man, I'm sorry I asked. It was a stupid question.." he trailed off.
"Here you two are! Drink responsibly now!" Shotgun cut in, arriving at the perfect time. Greatful for the drink, Cyanide took a huge gulp, choking down the rancid taste.
"Don't be! Anyways, you were telling me about claps and dust?"
"Oh yeah! Uh claps are fights, and when you get in a fight and kill someone, the deceased are considered ghosted, or dusted." he rambled off, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible.
"Cool, cool." Cyanide mumbled before taking another large drink. She made a face at the repulsive taste as she set the bottle down on the bar with a clink.
"Do you not drink often?" Ghoul chuckled, setting his empty bottle on the counter next to hers.
"Try never." She groaned, sticking her tongue out.
"You're probably the first woman I've ever met to say that." he said, his smile stretching out across his face.
"Yeah, well from what I've heard, that's alot." She huffed, suddenly feeling brave.
"What are you talking about?" Ghoul asked, picking up one of the two new beers that Shotgun had slid down to them.
"You know, you talk to alot of girls. I'm not like that, so if you think that you're seducing me you better stop trying and find someone else to talk to." Cyanide finished, turning to get out of her seat.
"No! No, wait Cyanide. I really enjoy talking to you. I don't want this to be like that. Can we just talk? Please?" he asked, his hand lightly resting on her elbow.
She looked down at his hand on her elbow and cringed, causing him to drop his hand back to his side.
This is it, she thought to herself. Now's your chance. You can either make a new friend, or you can give him the slip. It would be easier, she mused. Just reject him and immerse yourself in your music.
Mother wouldn't want this. She heard a tiny voice say in the back of her head. He just wants to be friends, and you really need those right now.
"Sure, just remember that, pal." she laughed, shoving his shoulder and shifting back into her seat.
"So, I see you're still wearing that The Used t shirt. I love them!" Ghoul gushed, motioning to his matching shirt.
"Being completely honest, I've never actually heard them.." she trailed off, looking anywhere but him.
"What!! Are you serious? No way! You need to be educated in proper music." he rambled off, naming random bands she had never heard of, and a few that she had.
"You know what?" he asked, turning to stare at her intensely.
"Uhm, what?" she asked, squirming in her seat.
"I think I'll start coming by more often! I can bring my Cd's, you can just be your lovely self, and we can get to know eachother better!"
"Hmm. I'll think about it."
"You'll think about it, huh?" he repeated her, his smile causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle up.
She smiled back at him before being interrupted by a loud crash. She turned around to see the red head-Party Poison- carrying a kicking and screaming Kobra Kid with help from Jet.
"Hey Ghoul, we're gonna jet! Kobra's trying to start a fight again, and we can't have another group mad at us." Party Poison breathed heavily as he tried to contain the kicking and screaming Kobra.
"Just let me go! He's just a-"Kobra began before Ghoul clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Now now, Kobra. No need for profanities." Ghoul chuckled. "Ow! He bit me!"
"Let's jet!" Party yelled as he dragged the raging Kobra Kid out of the Hyper-Thrust.
"Listen, I love talking to you but I really have to go. Promise we will have our date?" He asked, sticking out his bottom lip.
"You can come by, yes, but it's not a date."
"Oh, whatever you say Cyanide. Make some noise!" he called over his shoulder as he ran out the door after his friends.
Make some noise.. she thought to herself as she leaned up against the bar, nursing her second beer. I'll remember that, Ghoul.
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