Haru is Korse's best Exterminator and she enjoys finishing off the Killjoys...(summary continues inside)
Haru wiped her hands free of blood and prised the plastic gun from the dead Killjoy's icy grip. Her victim was fifteen year old Cyanide Bullet, a trouble making boy that had reached number twelve on the Wanted list, but that was back when his heart was beating and his lungs had breath, now he was just the shell of a person he used to be.
Haru zipped up the body bag, a cold smile on her pink lips as she did so.
By her fair complexion, deep amber eyes and raven hair, no one would of suspected she was Battery City's top Exterminator who was responsible for the deaths of fifty of the Zones best Killjoys, all of which she had collected their guns from to make an appealing, colourful, but heartless display of trophies nailed to her living room wall. Yet something troubled Haru, she was a bloodthirsty Exterminator, fuelled by greed and power, but fifty dead Killjoys still wasn't enough!
She had her eyes set on the major prize, the prize which she had saved room for on her wall, she just didn't intend to take their guns as trophies, but their jackets and helmets too.
The Fabulous Killjoys.
That was where the money was. That is what would get her rich and famous. Haru was already well known for injuring the red headed deamon known as Party Poison in a shoot off last month. But he had managed to get away along with the rest of his scumbag gang of outlaws that roamed the Wastes. She wouldn't just have Poison's outfit, but his head too. Haru thought it would look delightful mounted upon the wall beside the front door; she could use it as a coathanger alomgside one of his hands to use the fingers as keyhooks.
Haru chuckled to herself as she thought of the idea. She hated Killjoys, the whole lot of them, they were nothing more than filthy streetrats to her and she loved killing them off like vermin. There was nothing more pleasant than cornering a young, adolescent Killjoy, and nothing more beautiful to hear than the screams they sang when you tortured them so badly they had to beg for death.
"Job well done, Haru." Korse smiled, his hairless head shining in the radioactive ball of heat they called the sun. Haru bowed low,
"Thankyou, Master, though this would not have been possible without your great leadership." Korse smiled and patted her shoulder before walking off.
Korse was not a man of many words, Haru was one of the only people he ever spoke to on a regular basis so she considered herself honoured. She looked at her new trophy in her gloved hands, the gun was toxic green with black stars running along it in diagonal lines, definatly one of the more beautiful fire arms and would be nailed next to the more vivid and eyecatching weapons. She slipped it into her side bag and got on her bike, setting off at high speed and leaving the Draculoids to tidy up the mess she had left behind her.
Draculoids weren't the most effective killers and Haru was grateful for that; it made her look better. They were more or less used as intimidators to use up Killjoy gun batteries so they were easier to attack without the risk of being shot badly. They were trained to fight, but with Haru's combat, knife, gun and tracking skills, no other Drac could compare.
Haru sighed happily as she reached Zone Two, gradually pulling to a stop at an abandoned old cottage. She had decided to live here due to the fact that if any Killjoys try to sneak into Battery City she could get a taste of the action first. She parked up around the back and slid off the motorbike with and grace, pulling out her keys swiftly and letting herself into the house. Haru left her bag on the kitchen counter, promising to herself that she would put the gun to the wall later. She flicked on the lights and was attacked by the brightness of the living room wall.
Pinks, yellow, reds, purples, greens, blues, blacks, browns and oranges littered the wall in a sea of neon and sticker patterns. Each gun had the name and a picture of the deceased Killjoy attached to it, it was such a wonderful display of artwork. Haru slumped into the couch and did what she did every night; simply admired the view.
Kobra Kid clamped a hand to the bloody wound on his stomch, hissing in pain and disgust as the blood seeped through his long, boney, white fingers. Kobra had suffered shots before, one to the leg, arm, spine, even his face and lived to tell the tale. But none of those injuries were as deep as this.
It had happened not an hour ago, he and his best friend Jet Star were planning to raid an abandoned warehouse full of goods, but it all went wrong. They were ratted out, a bunch of Dracs were waiting for them, ready for a fight and all their weapons loaded. He and Jet had tried to run, but Kobra had got unlucky; Draculoids aren't the best of shooters, so most aims missed except for one rogue blast that caught him full on in the atomach. Jet ran, not noticing he had left his friend behind and Kobra couldn't wait for him to realise and back track, so he ran the opposite way to seperate the Dracs into two groups.
Kobra had lost the gang following him about one Zone back. It was dangerous out in Zone Two so Kobra had to seek out the nearest cover available and fast.
The young man tottered on his feet, leaning his weight against rocky outcrops for support. His stomach burned like a wild fire, eating him from the inside out, he was all but ready to give up when he found it.
A small, ramshackle cottage stood out of the dusty ground, a black shadow against the sunset which had turned the green sky orange and red. Lights flickered on from the upstairs window and Kobra made out a figure, he bit his lip. This was too risky, not all Killjoys took to playing host to the injured. One of the Killjoy rules clearly states: Should one Killjoy be injured and slows down the group, it is upon the group's desicion to leave that Killjoy behind or put him/her out of their misery.
Kobra winced as his stomch flared up in pain, reminding him of the wound that could be infected. His knees buckled, but he caught himself before he fell. He staggered forward, heart pounding harder with every step he took that brought him closer and closer to the door. The paint was peeling and the hinges were rusty and blackened, Kobra raised his fist to hit the wood that was seperating him from sanctuary when his legs gave out and he fell against it, hitting the floor hard. He cried out, clutching at his stomach and howling in agony. The pain was so intense his eyesight began to blur and his hearing left him, rendering him deaf. There was a sharp stab of pain and he slackened, head lolling sideways as his eyelids closed and he fell unconscious on the crooked wooden floorboards.
Erm, hope you liked it? :D It was a kind of random idea I came up with ;)
Please R&R and let me know what you guys think :D
- Sara xoxo