Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Shockwave Current
Author's POV.
The woman sat underneath the tree quietly, a drawing pad in her petite hand whilst the other traced the page softly, smudging in the shading. Her cropped purple hair shone brightly in the afternoon sun; despite the cool shade of the tree she was still all but too warm.
She shifted into a more comfortable position on the ground beneath her, wary not to strike her right arm on the bark of the tree. It was still broken and still very painful, there was barely anytime to have it rested and fixed correctly, what with all the Dracs and Bounty Hunters about.
The woman's real name was Jennifer Cosby - a name she had begun to use less and less over the years. The last time she had ever heard her real name spoken so freely to her was when 'he' had said it.
He's dead now! That's behind you now, Violet! She berated herself, using her cover name - Violet Rage - to snap her back to her senses.
Tim was gone, dead and gone. She had no feeling toward that man, she never had. That bastard deserved what he got; in fact death didn't even seem a worthy enough punishment for what he did to her. She shuddered as his smirking face came back from the recesses of her mind to haunt her, it was the same cold hearted face that graced her nightmares, waking her in a cold sweat and causing her eyes to widen in terror. Many a time had she found herself jolting awake in her Army Truck, crying out curses and shrieks of fear.
But then Party Poison came along.
Party Poison.
She broke into a smile, remembering the time they had met. It was so long ago now, but she remembered it as if it were yesterday, how could anyone forget flinging a chair at Fun Ghoul?
That was so many weeks back...
She sighed and scooped up her sketch pad in her good arm, the other hanging limply at an awkward angle. She packed the book away into a crate and made her way around to the front of the vehicle, her thick combat boots crunching on the gritty dust.
The tree she had been sat under was really beautiful. The way the sun dappled through emerald green leaves, creating circular patches of light on the barren desert floor was magnificent. Violet loved trees, real trees, not the gnarled twisted skeletons with peeling dead bark that littered the Wastelands. Trees like these were a rare sight ever since the bombs dropped, killing every living species of plant within a nine hundred mile radius. Clear and I mean clear, blue skies were equally just as rare. Usually the sky was a tinted green, tinged that colour due to the methane that pervaded the ozone layer. It was all BL/ind’s fault; their entire fault that so many lives were destroyed, so many families torn apart and the amount of rebellious Killjoy’s that threatened to pull down their drug induced empire every day.
Life was much simpler back in the Good Old Year 2011. No one worried or even cared about BL/ind; they were just a small, family run industry that were trying to make it big time but so far had to actually do something to grasp the public’s attention. No one expected the bombing attack or the assassination of the President or even dreamt of witnessing the burning down of the White House in an arson attack. BL/ind began to get attention, but for all the wrong reasons.
Then one day, Shane Korse declared himself as the ruler of America. Anyone who dared to question his authority would mysteriously disappear, their family following shortly after them. Then came the broadcasting; Better Living Industries took over the media. They created propaganda against anyone that had not taken the Happiness Pill. Heck, Korse even made his own military, the guys and gals lined up in endless queues, desperate for a job that would give them a quick way out of their miserable excuses for a life.
But the people who signed up came back different.
Their faces were constantly covered by a white mask with green hair, dark eye holes and a bloody, fanged mouth piece. Korse named these...these...things, Draculoids; or more commonly known as Dracs for short. These were people once, beings of emotion and compassion, but they were replaced by mind numbing drugs and machinery. They became androids.
They were monsters, feared far and wide across the Wastelands. Draculoids were notoriously known for their merciless acts and laser weaponry. They were Korse’s right hand men and they lived to destroy and maim.
Then a rebel took his stand.
His name was Ricky Crowe; the first ever Killjoy. He was seen as an emblem all across America. He was fearless and a dangerous man. Violet was part of his secret committee back in the days when she was known as Jennifer Cosby. That’s where she met Tim and Gerard. Gerard had a daughter that she never saw, but she had seen many a picture of her. Her name was Grace and she was six back then. Gerard said he had never had much time for her, due to these secret meetings Ricky held, but he always spent every spare second he had with her.
Tim, on the other hand, had no child issues and was more outlandish and flamboyant than Gerard was; always partying and womanizing with every lady he could get a hold of. He was sweet and kind and gentle toward her.
But all that glitters is not gold.
When it came to Ricky’s members having to create groups for a big attack he had planned to be launched on the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Medic and Pill Distributing Factory, Tim showed his true colours. He was abusive and on more than one account raped her.
Violet shuddered, that was a series of memories she never wished to relive for as long as she breathed and her heart had a beat. She hated Tim then and she hated him now despite the fact he was dead. She never forgave herself for not discovering his grave; she wanted to dance on it, dig up his corpse, drench it in gasoline, burn it before her eyes and stamp the ashes into the ground, then she would accept the bastard was gone.
Violet clenched her hands and slammed her fists into a nearby crate, hissing as the broken bone jolted violently, causing pain to flare up her arm and shoulder. She spun around, clutching her arm as a thread of profanities so strong it would make a nun blush, spewed in an anger filled torrent from her mouth.
Suddenly, a white line on the horizon caught her eye and she stopped, halfway through yet another extremely foul curse. She squinted, shielding her eyes with her good hand to block the glare of the white-hot sun.
Motorbikes, seven white motorbikes were on the horizon, tailing what appeared to be a car that had obviously seen better days. In fact that car seemed all but too familiar to Violet. It was dusty but she could tell that it was originally white underneath all the dirt and grime. It streaked past her with such force that it whipped her purple hair in a back blast and forced her T-shirt to ride up slightly. She grabbed her ray gun, twirled it round on her finger once and pressed her body against her Army truck, surveying the scene.
A blur of black and a blur of blue which soon appeared to be two Killjoys were shooting from out of the sunroof, their guns bucking and exploding deep, vibrant colours out of the noses. Jets of green and neon blue streamed through the air.
The Dracs were beginning to gain ground, one blasted its pistol and it clipped the cars tyre, causing the vehicle to swerve, the driver slammed the brakes and the stench of burning rubber pervaded the air, making Violet gag. The Dracs whooped in sheer delight and high-fived a comrade driving beside him, steering the bike one handed.
The car spun round, jerking violently. There was a scream and the blue haired Killjoy from the sunroof was flung out hitting the ground harshly, rolling to a stop meters away from Violet’s truck, face down. The Dracs pulled up their bikes around their victim, laughing crudely.
“Master wants a word with you.” One of them sneered, swivelling his gun by the trigger round and round his gloved finger. “It seems you need a reboot, girly.”
Violet got angry as the Drac kicked the small girl.
“Yo! Dickhead!” Violet bellowed.
“Wha-?” The Drac never got to finish the word, a blistering beam of white smacking him right between the eyes. He crumpled, blood leaking from his mask. Violet unsheathed her blade, which she had named ‘Ricky’, and rounded on the six other Dracs.
“So, which one of you bitches wants to dance?” She smiled, Ricky flashing menacingly in her palm. She waited for no reply and flung the blade, sinking it deep into another Drac’s throat. The gang rounded on her, pistols raised and armed. Her smile melted off her face,
“Awww, shit.” She cursed.
There was a round of gunfire from behind and all the Dracs froze, their bodies rigid and the guns dropped from their loosened grip. They all toppled down like a stack of cards, dust spewing up from the heavy impacts.
The dust cleared and revealed four men, three were stood with their pistols still aimed despite the fact that they were already dead. The other one was hunkered down by the girl on the floor, pulling her limp body to her feet. Violet stared, totally shocked.
She watched the red haired man, brush the electric blue hair from the little girls face, examining her over. He had a bandana over the bottom half of his face; brown with pink polka dots. He moved stiffly and Violet noticed the jutting out shape of thickly wadded bandages underneath his shirt. He traced a pale finger over her face before looking up at the other men,
“No marks on her. Not a single break or scratch, not even a bruise...She did fall out of the sunroof, right Fun Ghoul?”
“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Violet gasped. “It’s you!!!”
The men turned to look at her.
“She knows us.” Jet Star panicked.
“Gag her and bind her up, cover her face too, we don’t want her to know where our hide out is.” Commanded Party Poison.
“What the fuck? Party, it’s me!” Violet screeched.
Party looked up immediately. His hazel eyes wide and he pulled down his bandana with his free hand,
“Vi?” He asked, unsure.
Violet smiled,
“Y-yeah, Party...it’s me, it’s Violet.”
Kobra and Jet took the small girl under the arms, leaving Party free to grab Violet, pulling her into a hug so fierce she thought she would suffocate for sure. Party buried his face in her hair and impossibly managed to hold on tighter.
She smiled and clung to him also, breathing in his scent; a soft cologne with a faint smell of sweat, just as she remembered.
Party took either side of her face in his soft hands and kissed her hair with the most gentlest of caresses and sighed, staring into her eyes with his smouldering hazel ones, a smile dancing on his pale lips and a mournful sadness in his eyes from hurt and heartbreak as he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He loosened his grasp and snaked his arms around her slender neck, her slightly tanned arms wrapped around his incredibly skinny waist, due to the lack of nutritional food out in the Wastelands.
He was just as she remembered, apart from the thick wadding and gauze around his stomach area that rubbed against her arm. His red hair was still a vibrant scarlet, framing his porcelain face, his dark eyelashes casting long shadows on his high, pronounced cheekbones. She leaned up slightly, her lips meeting his. The kiss only lasted a few seconds but she didn’t mind.
He looked into her eyes once more,
“Never leave again.” He whispered.
R&R please and lemme know what you guys think! :) Destruction Battery will be appearing soon!
Frank Iero's for all!
Unicorns-are-real xoxo :D
The woman sat underneath the tree quietly, a drawing pad in her petite hand whilst the other traced the page softly, smudging in the shading. Her cropped purple hair shone brightly in the afternoon sun; despite the cool shade of the tree she was still all but too warm.
She shifted into a more comfortable position on the ground beneath her, wary not to strike her right arm on the bark of the tree. It was still broken and still very painful, there was barely anytime to have it rested and fixed correctly, what with all the Dracs and Bounty Hunters about.
The woman's real name was Jennifer Cosby - a name she had begun to use less and less over the years. The last time she had ever heard her real name spoken so freely to her was when 'he' had said it.
He's dead now! That's behind you now, Violet! She berated herself, using her cover name - Violet Rage - to snap her back to her senses.
Tim was gone, dead and gone. She had no feeling toward that man, she never had. That bastard deserved what he got; in fact death didn't even seem a worthy enough punishment for what he did to her. She shuddered as his smirking face came back from the recesses of her mind to haunt her, it was the same cold hearted face that graced her nightmares, waking her in a cold sweat and causing her eyes to widen in terror. Many a time had she found herself jolting awake in her Army Truck, crying out curses and shrieks of fear.
But then Party Poison came along.
Party Poison.
She broke into a smile, remembering the time they had met. It was so long ago now, but she remembered it as if it were yesterday, how could anyone forget flinging a chair at Fun Ghoul?
That was so many weeks back...
She sighed and scooped up her sketch pad in her good arm, the other hanging limply at an awkward angle. She packed the book away into a crate and made her way around to the front of the vehicle, her thick combat boots crunching on the gritty dust.
The tree she had been sat under was really beautiful. The way the sun dappled through emerald green leaves, creating circular patches of light on the barren desert floor was magnificent. Violet loved trees, real trees, not the gnarled twisted skeletons with peeling dead bark that littered the Wastelands. Trees like these were a rare sight ever since the bombs dropped, killing every living species of plant within a nine hundred mile radius. Clear and I mean clear, blue skies were equally just as rare. Usually the sky was a tinted green, tinged that colour due to the methane that pervaded the ozone layer. It was all BL/ind’s fault; their entire fault that so many lives were destroyed, so many families torn apart and the amount of rebellious Killjoy’s that threatened to pull down their drug induced empire every day.
Life was much simpler back in the Good Old Year 2011. No one worried or even cared about BL/ind; they were just a small, family run industry that were trying to make it big time but so far had to actually do something to grasp the public’s attention. No one expected the bombing attack or the assassination of the President or even dreamt of witnessing the burning down of the White House in an arson attack. BL/ind began to get attention, but for all the wrong reasons.
Then one day, Shane Korse declared himself as the ruler of America. Anyone who dared to question his authority would mysteriously disappear, their family following shortly after them. Then came the broadcasting; Better Living Industries took over the media. They created propaganda against anyone that had not taken the Happiness Pill. Heck, Korse even made his own military, the guys and gals lined up in endless queues, desperate for a job that would give them a quick way out of their miserable excuses for a life.
But the people who signed up came back different.
Their faces were constantly covered by a white mask with green hair, dark eye holes and a bloody, fanged mouth piece. Korse named these...these...things, Draculoids; or more commonly known as Dracs for short. These were people once, beings of emotion and compassion, but they were replaced by mind numbing drugs and machinery. They became androids.
They were monsters, feared far and wide across the Wastelands. Draculoids were notoriously known for their merciless acts and laser weaponry. They were Korse’s right hand men and they lived to destroy and maim.
Then a rebel took his stand.
His name was Ricky Crowe; the first ever Killjoy. He was seen as an emblem all across America. He was fearless and a dangerous man. Violet was part of his secret committee back in the days when she was known as Jennifer Cosby. That’s where she met Tim and Gerard. Gerard had a daughter that she never saw, but she had seen many a picture of her. Her name was Grace and she was six back then. Gerard said he had never had much time for her, due to these secret meetings Ricky held, but he always spent every spare second he had with her.
Tim, on the other hand, had no child issues and was more outlandish and flamboyant than Gerard was; always partying and womanizing with every lady he could get a hold of. He was sweet and kind and gentle toward her.
But all that glitters is not gold.
When it came to Ricky’s members having to create groups for a big attack he had planned to be launched on the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Medic and Pill Distributing Factory, Tim showed his true colours. He was abusive and on more than one account raped her.
Violet shuddered, that was a series of memories she never wished to relive for as long as she breathed and her heart had a beat. She hated Tim then and she hated him now despite the fact he was dead. She never forgave herself for not discovering his grave; she wanted to dance on it, dig up his corpse, drench it in gasoline, burn it before her eyes and stamp the ashes into the ground, then she would accept the bastard was gone.
Violet clenched her hands and slammed her fists into a nearby crate, hissing as the broken bone jolted violently, causing pain to flare up her arm and shoulder. She spun around, clutching her arm as a thread of profanities so strong it would make a nun blush, spewed in an anger filled torrent from her mouth.
Suddenly, a white line on the horizon caught her eye and she stopped, halfway through yet another extremely foul curse. She squinted, shielding her eyes with her good hand to block the glare of the white-hot sun.
Motorbikes, seven white motorbikes were on the horizon, tailing what appeared to be a car that had obviously seen better days. In fact that car seemed all but too familiar to Violet. It was dusty but she could tell that it was originally white underneath all the dirt and grime. It streaked past her with such force that it whipped her purple hair in a back blast and forced her T-shirt to ride up slightly. She grabbed her ray gun, twirled it round on her finger once and pressed her body against her Army truck, surveying the scene.
A blur of black and a blur of blue which soon appeared to be two Killjoys were shooting from out of the sunroof, their guns bucking and exploding deep, vibrant colours out of the noses. Jets of green and neon blue streamed through the air.
The Dracs were beginning to gain ground, one blasted its pistol and it clipped the cars tyre, causing the vehicle to swerve, the driver slammed the brakes and the stench of burning rubber pervaded the air, making Violet gag. The Dracs whooped in sheer delight and high-fived a comrade driving beside him, steering the bike one handed.
The car spun round, jerking violently. There was a scream and the blue haired Killjoy from the sunroof was flung out hitting the ground harshly, rolling to a stop meters away from Violet’s truck, face down. The Dracs pulled up their bikes around their victim, laughing crudely.
“Master wants a word with you.” One of them sneered, swivelling his gun by the trigger round and round his gloved finger. “It seems you need a reboot, girly.”
Violet got angry as the Drac kicked the small girl.
“Yo! Dickhead!” Violet bellowed.
“Wha-?” The Drac never got to finish the word, a blistering beam of white smacking him right between the eyes. He crumpled, blood leaking from his mask. Violet unsheathed her blade, which she had named ‘Ricky’, and rounded on the six other Dracs.
“So, which one of you bitches wants to dance?” She smiled, Ricky flashing menacingly in her palm. She waited for no reply and flung the blade, sinking it deep into another Drac’s throat. The gang rounded on her, pistols raised and armed. Her smile melted off her face,
“Awww, shit.” She cursed.
There was a round of gunfire from behind and all the Dracs froze, their bodies rigid and the guns dropped from their loosened grip. They all toppled down like a stack of cards, dust spewing up from the heavy impacts.
The dust cleared and revealed four men, three were stood with their pistols still aimed despite the fact that they were already dead. The other one was hunkered down by the girl on the floor, pulling her limp body to her feet. Violet stared, totally shocked.
She watched the red haired man, brush the electric blue hair from the little girls face, examining her over. He had a bandana over the bottom half of his face; brown with pink polka dots. He moved stiffly and Violet noticed the jutting out shape of thickly wadded bandages underneath his shirt. He traced a pale finger over her face before looking up at the other men,
“No marks on her. Not a single break or scratch, not even a bruise...She did fall out of the sunroof, right Fun Ghoul?”
“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Violet gasped. “It’s you!!!”
The men turned to look at her.
“She knows us.” Jet Star panicked.
“Gag her and bind her up, cover her face too, we don’t want her to know where our hide out is.” Commanded Party Poison.
“What the fuck? Party, it’s me!” Violet screeched.
Party looked up immediately. His hazel eyes wide and he pulled down his bandana with his free hand,
“Vi?” He asked, unsure.
Violet smiled,
“Y-yeah, Party...it’s me, it’s Violet.”
Kobra and Jet took the small girl under the arms, leaving Party free to grab Violet, pulling her into a hug so fierce she thought she would suffocate for sure. Party buried his face in her hair and impossibly managed to hold on tighter.
She smiled and clung to him also, breathing in his scent; a soft cologne with a faint smell of sweat, just as she remembered.
Party took either side of her face in his soft hands and kissed her hair with the most gentlest of caresses and sighed, staring into her eyes with his smouldering hazel ones, a smile dancing on his pale lips and a mournful sadness in his eyes from hurt and heartbreak as he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He loosened his grasp and snaked his arms around her slender neck, her slightly tanned arms wrapped around his incredibly skinny waist, due to the lack of nutritional food out in the Wastelands.
He was just as she remembered, apart from the thick wadding and gauze around his stomach area that rubbed against her arm. His red hair was still a vibrant scarlet, framing his porcelain face, his dark eyelashes casting long shadows on his high, pronounced cheekbones. She leaned up slightly, her lips meeting his. The kiss only lasted a few seconds but she didn’t mind.
He looked into her eyes once more,
“Never leave again.” He whispered.
R&R please and lemme know what you guys think! :) Destruction Battery will be appearing soon!
Frank Iero's for all!
Unicorns-are-real xoxo :D
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