FicWad

"Bad news from the zones, tumbleweeds, it looks like Jet Star and the Kobra Kid had a clap with an exterminator that went all Costa Rica, and uh, got themselves ghosted, dusted out on route guano. So it’s time to hit the red line and up-thrust the volume out there. Keep your boots tight, keep your gun close, and die with your mask on if you've got to. Here, is the traffic..." The beat-up radio crackled
“Fucking hell!” Atomic Detonator shouted, slamming her fist down on the innocent radio.
“What’s wrong sis?” Stormi Lace asked, concerned, walking into their tent having heard shouting.
“Jet and Kobra got ghosted.” Detonator spat, putting her face in her hands, black and blue fringe hiding electric green eyes that may or may not have been crying.
“Oh fuck...” Stormi mumbled softly and dropped to her knees, putting an arm around her younger sister. “What happened?” She asked
Detonator sniffed, “Doc D just said they got dusted by an exterminator or somethin’…” she explained, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder.
Stormi let out a sigh of sheer exhaustion and disbelief.
“That’s just a shame…” She said finally
Detonator looked up, emerald eyes shining with hurt and admiration. “Kobra was my hero…” She whispered.
“I know D, I know…” Stormi sighed, hugging her little sister close.
A silence hung, louder than any bomb could have been.
“Well… I guess the fantastic four have dwindled down to the dangerous dos…” Stormi noted, tilting her head to the side, “But hey, two’s ain’t bad! Look at the two of us, we’ve survived just fine…”
“Except for the boot-scorpion incident…” Detonator giggled
“Oi! You promised not to bring that up! And anyways, I’ve learned to always check my boots before I put them on now, thank you.” Stormi defended, “THE POINT IS, the world isn’t faerie tales and candyland anymore. People get hurt. People get killed. And it hurts a-fucking-lot. But we…we just have to keep moving on. Keep fighting. And we’re gunna fight twice as hard, for Jet and Kobra, ‘kay ?
“Yeah…” Detonator sighed, wiping her eyes.
A coyote sang, sounding far off and lonesome. Stormi poked her head out of the flimsy tent, noticing stars pop up, pinpricks of light shining through a black sheet, and the moon, a cheschire grin.
“Fuck it’s dark out already.” Stormi said bitterly, “I’ll keep watch.”
“No, you kept watch last night, I’ll do it.” Detonator protested
“I don’t care. You’re pretty shook up, and no offense, in that state you wouldn’t be much good as lookout anyhow.” Stormi noted
“But-“, Detonator started.
“No but’s. Except your butt, inside this tent.”, Stormi commanded, slipping out of the tent, feeling slightly nervous.
It was ridiculous, really. Thinking that you’re safer behind a flimsy sheet held up by bendy poles than a foot outside of it. But something about it felt secure… Maybe because you can’t see what’s after you. Can’t see the horror outside. Perhaps that’s why the citizen’s within BL/ind’s zones felt so safe…they couldn’t see what’s really going on outside.
Stormi pondered this as she sat, criss-cross on the sand, and toyed with one of her long aquamarine curls, watching the horizon. She yawned, bored as fuck. Have you any idea how bored fuck is? Pretty fucking bored…
Nothing out there but sagebrush and scorpions… If only something would happen for once..
No. Don’t think like that, she thought. Safe is better than excitement, her brain told her. But still, her ever-beating heart longed for adventure…