Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Exterminate Me
let me know if you're enjoying it! R&R :) xoxo, K
It would be many years before we knew when exactly everything started. It can all be pinpointed back to the Great Fires of 2012, although nobody knew it at the time. It was 2014 when the war started that we realized the world was going to shit. That was when the little company that had taken a quiet seat in the background swooped in and started subtly taking over the world. That was when BL/Ind came in with their pills and promises, giving us hope for a better tomorrow. Even after the killings began, we were still oblivious to what they were doing.
It started with the pills. Well no, that's not quite right. It started with what starts most wars. Doubt. Some people began to question the pills we were taking. What were they really doing? How were they benefitting us? And then the counters began to disappear. By early 2015, protestors were going into Battery City and not returning. My family and I remained quiet, taking our pills like good civilians were supposed to. I was sixteen when they dropped the bomb in the desert. It killed every rebel living out there. Any rebels considering running now risked radiation poisoning. I was seventeen when they set the new education system in place. They took away our normal core subjects and replaced them with classes like "Rebel Spotting" and "Resistance Enforcement." They stopped teaching us. They clearly didn't want us to learn and nobody knew why.
But Mikey figured it out. The tall, lanky neighbor boy that I'd been friends with since Kindergarten shared his theory with me as we were walking home one afternoon.
"If they dont educate the masses, then the masses won't ask questions. The dumber they make the sheep, the more compliant the sheep will be." Mikey turned to me, placing his slender fingers on my shoulders.
"Promise me that you'll save yourself," he whispered earnestly, glancing nervously towards his house. I didn't understand what he meant.
"Mikey? What do you mean?" I asked.
"Dallas, promise me!" he shouted, shaking my shoulders.
I nodded, smiling at Mikey, trying to assuage him. "Okay, Mikey. I'll try." Mikey sighed. "I guess that's the best I can ask of you." He smiled, wrapping his arms around me. "I'm so sorry, Dallas. Hold on, okay? Just.... Keep running. Alright? Keep running for me." He released me, turning towards his house. His brother opened the door, glaring at Mikey.
"Did you-"
"No."
"But you-"
"Gerard, I didn't. I promised you I wouldn't. And I didn't. Okay?"
Gerard softened. "Mikes, I'm sor-"
"Leave me the hell alone," Mikey growled, shoving past Gerard. I stared at the house for a moment, puzzled. Gerard smiled, waving at me. "Goodbye, Dallas. Keep running."
There was that phrase again. I didn't understand it. Keep running. It didn't make sense. Where was I running? Why did I need to keep running? The questions followed me around all through that evening. I was considering walking over to the Way's house to try and get a straight answer from my friends when I heard it. Screaming. It was coming from a few houses down. My mother swore quietly and grabbed my arm, shoving me into a closet and slamming it shut. The screams got closer. Two houses down now. Oh, God. Mikey, I thought. Our houses were close enough together that I could hear them break down the Way's front door. Then I heard something else. An explosion. It sounded like a bomb. Despite the gravity of the situation, I chuckled. Leave it to Gerard to find a way to slow down BLI. I heard them fire shots and a piece of me died as I pictured Mikey and Gerard laying in the floor, blood dribbling from their mouths. But I wouldn't let myself cry. If they found me, I would not give BLI that satisfaction. I heard our door being kicked open. Footsteps entered. "No," a voice growled. It was followed by the sound of a gun. "No and no," the voice said, firing his gun two more times. He sounded bored. I heard him turn to leave and I breathed a sigh of relief. The footsteps stopped and came towards me quickly. The door flew open. the bald man in the frilly
Suit stared at me. I raised my chin defiantly and he smiled, showing off his shark-like grin. "You. You'll do Nicely." He picked me up by my arm, dragging me outside. He tossed me into a black van. Sixteen other people stared back at me. One girl smiled.
"We've been chosen," she breathed dreamily. I thought about it. She was right. We hasn't been killed and we obviously been chosen for something. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe we'd be alright.
I'll spare you the gruesome details of the experiments. It was painful and terrifying. Not only did it reprogram my memories, but it left me devoid of all emotions aside from hatred, resentment and vengeance. And of course compassion, care and love, but I didn't know that yet. By the time 2018 came around and we were ready for fieldwork, what wasn't Better Living was barren desert. it was infested with rebels. Killjoys, they called themselves. We were broken off into teams and assigned different groups to exterminate. My team was assigned a group of motorbabies, and we exterminated them quickly and quietly. Six successful missions later, my team was promoted and assigned the group that Korse himself was unable to catch. They were considered the leaders of the Killjoys, motorbabies and crashqueens alike. They were known as The Fabulous Four and consisted of their leader Party Poison, his second-in-command Kobra Kid, their tech man Jet Star and their grease monkey Fun Ghoul. Our first mission was to discover their true identities. And we set out, intending to do exactly that.
I sent my team to start pulling records and begin trying to match identification photographs with the blurry and grainy shots we had of our enemies. After seeking Korse's approval, I disguised myself as one of them and went off into the desert in search of information.
I entered the colorful bar in Zone 4, terrified of these monsters. They looked like they'd take my face off with their bare hand. However, training had erased fear from my mind and I allowed it to wipe away any I was feeling now too. I approached the bar, sitting next to a man with shoulder length, dark hair. It was greasy and gritty, the hair of a man who hadn't seen a shower for months. He turned to me, grinning. It seemed to be the only clean part of him.
"Haven't seen you around here before, friend," he exclaimed brightly. I nodded hesitantly.
"I'm new," I mumbled. He made a sympathetic face. "what're you calling yourself now?" he inquired. I smiled. "Checkered Radiation," I said. "But I go by Chex." The man smiled and waves the bartender over. "Get me something for this infant," he said, pointing at me. The man handed something to the bartender, some kind of payment. He handed me the drink and stood. "Well I hope we meet again Chex." I took a swallow of the burning alcohol and nodded. "Keep running," I said, turning back to my drink. I felt someone jerk me back around. "What the fuck?" the man yelled. He pulled his fun from his holster and smacked me with the butt of it. My vision swam for a moment and then failed me. I fell into blackness.
The next few hours, I was tortured relentlessly. This gang of Killjoys had somehow sensed that I was a spy of some kind and were trying to drag the truth from me. I longer to shoot them and watch as their dead bodies smoked and smoldered. I knew that it was these rebels who had slaughtered my family and all I wanted was vengeance.
The main door opened and I turned to the newcomer, snarling at his tall frame. He took a step closer. "Poison, who is this?" he asked. He stepped into a patch of sunlight and I stared at him. His face seemed so familiar. I leaned forward against my restraints, trying to figure it out when I felt something burst in my mind. I gasped, cringing as memories changed in my mind. I recognized them as my true memories and the others as false. Lies. When the throbbing, intense pain subsided, I looked up to the tall man again and felt myself grow faint with shock. "M-M-Mikey?" I asked. The last thing I heard was him whisper "Dallas?" and then I blacked out again.
It would be many years before we knew when exactly everything started. It can all be pinpointed back to the Great Fires of 2012, although nobody knew it at the time. It was 2014 when the war started that we realized the world was going to shit. That was when the little company that had taken a quiet seat in the background swooped in and started subtly taking over the world. That was when BL/Ind came in with their pills and promises, giving us hope for a better tomorrow. Even after the killings began, we were still oblivious to what they were doing.
It started with the pills. Well no, that's not quite right. It started with what starts most wars. Doubt. Some people began to question the pills we were taking. What were they really doing? How were they benefitting us? And then the counters began to disappear. By early 2015, protestors were going into Battery City and not returning. My family and I remained quiet, taking our pills like good civilians were supposed to. I was sixteen when they dropped the bomb in the desert. It killed every rebel living out there. Any rebels considering running now risked radiation poisoning. I was seventeen when they set the new education system in place. They took away our normal core subjects and replaced them with classes like "Rebel Spotting" and "Resistance Enforcement." They stopped teaching us. They clearly didn't want us to learn and nobody knew why.
But Mikey figured it out. The tall, lanky neighbor boy that I'd been friends with since Kindergarten shared his theory with me as we were walking home one afternoon.
"If they dont educate the masses, then the masses won't ask questions. The dumber they make the sheep, the more compliant the sheep will be." Mikey turned to me, placing his slender fingers on my shoulders.
"Promise me that you'll save yourself," he whispered earnestly, glancing nervously towards his house. I didn't understand what he meant.
"Mikey? What do you mean?" I asked.
"Dallas, promise me!" he shouted, shaking my shoulders.
I nodded, smiling at Mikey, trying to assuage him. "Okay, Mikey. I'll try." Mikey sighed. "I guess that's the best I can ask of you." He smiled, wrapping his arms around me. "I'm so sorry, Dallas. Hold on, okay? Just.... Keep running. Alright? Keep running for me." He released me, turning towards his house. His brother opened the door, glaring at Mikey.
"Did you-"
"No."
"But you-"
"Gerard, I didn't. I promised you I wouldn't. And I didn't. Okay?"
Gerard softened. "Mikes, I'm sor-"
"Leave me the hell alone," Mikey growled, shoving past Gerard. I stared at the house for a moment, puzzled. Gerard smiled, waving at me. "Goodbye, Dallas. Keep running."
There was that phrase again. I didn't understand it. Keep running. It didn't make sense. Where was I running? Why did I need to keep running? The questions followed me around all through that evening. I was considering walking over to the Way's house to try and get a straight answer from my friends when I heard it. Screaming. It was coming from a few houses down. My mother swore quietly and grabbed my arm, shoving me into a closet and slamming it shut. The screams got closer. Two houses down now. Oh, God. Mikey, I thought. Our houses were close enough together that I could hear them break down the Way's front door. Then I heard something else. An explosion. It sounded like a bomb. Despite the gravity of the situation, I chuckled. Leave it to Gerard to find a way to slow down BLI. I heard them fire shots and a piece of me died as I pictured Mikey and Gerard laying in the floor, blood dribbling from their mouths. But I wouldn't let myself cry. If they found me, I would not give BLI that satisfaction. I heard our door being kicked open. Footsteps entered. "No," a voice growled. It was followed by the sound of a gun. "No and no," the voice said, firing his gun two more times. He sounded bored. I heard him turn to leave and I breathed a sigh of relief. The footsteps stopped and came towards me quickly. The door flew open. the bald man in the frilly
Suit stared at me. I raised my chin defiantly and he smiled, showing off his shark-like grin. "You. You'll do Nicely." He picked me up by my arm, dragging me outside. He tossed me into a black van. Sixteen other people stared back at me. One girl smiled.
"We've been chosen," she breathed dreamily. I thought about it. She was right. We hasn't been killed and we obviously been chosen for something. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe we'd be alright.
I'll spare you the gruesome details of the experiments. It was painful and terrifying. Not only did it reprogram my memories, but it left me devoid of all emotions aside from hatred, resentment and vengeance. And of course compassion, care and love, but I didn't know that yet. By the time 2018 came around and we were ready for fieldwork, what wasn't Better Living was barren desert. it was infested with rebels. Killjoys, they called themselves. We were broken off into teams and assigned different groups to exterminate. My team was assigned a group of motorbabies, and we exterminated them quickly and quietly. Six successful missions later, my team was promoted and assigned the group that Korse himself was unable to catch. They were considered the leaders of the Killjoys, motorbabies and crashqueens alike. They were known as The Fabulous Four and consisted of their leader Party Poison, his second-in-command Kobra Kid, their tech man Jet Star and their grease monkey Fun Ghoul. Our first mission was to discover their true identities. And we set out, intending to do exactly that.
I sent my team to start pulling records and begin trying to match identification photographs with the blurry and grainy shots we had of our enemies. After seeking Korse's approval, I disguised myself as one of them and went off into the desert in search of information.
I entered the colorful bar in Zone 4, terrified of these monsters. They looked like they'd take my face off with their bare hand. However, training had erased fear from my mind and I allowed it to wipe away any I was feeling now too. I approached the bar, sitting next to a man with shoulder length, dark hair. It was greasy and gritty, the hair of a man who hadn't seen a shower for months. He turned to me, grinning. It seemed to be the only clean part of him.
"Haven't seen you around here before, friend," he exclaimed brightly. I nodded hesitantly.
"I'm new," I mumbled. He made a sympathetic face. "what're you calling yourself now?" he inquired. I smiled. "Checkered Radiation," I said. "But I go by Chex." The man smiled and waves the bartender over. "Get me something for this infant," he said, pointing at me. The man handed something to the bartender, some kind of payment. He handed me the drink and stood. "Well I hope we meet again Chex." I took a swallow of the burning alcohol and nodded. "Keep running," I said, turning back to my drink. I felt someone jerk me back around. "What the fuck?" the man yelled. He pulled his fun from his holster and smacked me with the butt of it. My vision swam for a moment and then failed me. I fell into blackness.
The next few hours, I was tortured relentlessly. This gang of Killjoys had somehow sensed that I was a spy of some kind and were trying to drag the truth from me. I longer to shoot them and watch as their dead bodies smoked and smoldered. I knew that it was these rebels who had slaughtered my family and all I wanted was vengeance.
The main door opened and I turned to the newcomer, snarling at his tall frame. He took a step closer. "Poison, who is this?" he asked. He stepped into a patch of sunlight and I stared at him. His face seemed so familiar. I leaned forward against my restraints, trying to figure it out when I felt something burst in my mind. I gasped, cringing as memories changed in my mind. I recognized them as my true memories and the others as false. Lies. When the throbbing, intense pain subsided, I looked up to the tall man again and felt myself grow faint with shock. "M-M-Mikey?" I asked. The last thing I heard was him whisper "Dallas?" and then I blacked out again.
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