Breath rhymes with death. Can breathing be what kills us? Ignore that
JUST SO YOU MOTHERLOVING KNOW
Greetings from Hell. Sorry it's been like two weeks, but I haven't been in the mood for long chapters so I didn't bother. But I've come to the conclusion that fuck long motherfucking chapters I'm just gonna write what I'm mentally capable of for the time and get on with my life. Means you fuckers(if anyone tracks this story) don't have to wait 924648 weeks for a new tea stained scribble, however short it is. Anyways, who the fuck am I to keep you waiting. Onwards
Back at Radiation's garage, Insanity sat thinking of the stranger from the park. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on him through the rough, mechanical sounds Blackie made with his bike. She knew she hadn't seen the man around the Zone, but he seemed familiar to her, like a dream. The tall figure had been passing through her thoughts constantly as she waited for Renegade in the garage, and she couldn't focus on what Blackie was saying to her. Only that it had to do with that Cyanide Bitch. He was so intriguing-the stranger, not Blackie. She didn't feel that way towards him- and the wished he had come to talk to him. Or that she weren't so shy. He kinda reminded her of the y-
"Shy Shy Shy Shy Shy Shyyyyy! I brought humans!" A newly appeared Toxic yelled. Insanity turned and saw the Killjoys. I shit you not, there stood her best friend's long-time heroes. In. The same. Garage. She was stunned, she didn't know much about them, but she knew they were celebrities among the Zones. The only thing she was capable of was a small and timid "Hi there," receiving an assortment of greetings, and that's when she noticed the one on the far right. Tall, lanky(but damn, those arms. Unfufuf if she did say so herself), and, might I add amazing, perfectly styled hair. Just like the stranger's. She was no longer capable of anything, spare staring at the gorgeous creature as he extended a pale hand.