adrenalynangel:

electricriot:

adrenalynangel:

electricriot:

adrenalynangel:

electricriot:

adrenalynangel:

electricriot:

adrenalynangel:

electricriot:

Riot was so tired. She had stayed up for days, clutching her gun with one hand and the steering wheel of her Chevrolet with the other, trying to stay awake and alive. She had contacted old friends that no longer knew who she was, the brother that she had believed to be dead had called out to her,…

Angel was in her own Trans Am, in front of an old diner that looked to be a kick from collapsing. Kobra had left after she’d woken up, going of to find Ghoul and she still didn’t know if either man was okay… or even still alive. She shuddered at the thought.

Even through all the dust she’d breathed in from every time she’d tripped running away, in her heart was still the urge to sing, but she knew someone could hear her, and that wouldn’t be good. So she looked around, spotting the figure of what looked like a girl.

She saw the neon of the diner before she recognized what it might mean. When her boot-clad feet finally pushed her up to the wall, she skidded to a halt and whirled around, her back colliding with the building with a thump. She checked her heart (pumping madly but still beating, at least), her thigh (blaster still strapped down tight), and her face (dirty and covered in her pink bandanna, sweat rolling down her temples), then willed her lungs to slow down. The white folder tucked inside her jacket poked at her stomach.

She realized she was being watched and glanced up, scanning the landscape. Her eyes landed on a Trans Am (don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it, her brain insisted) and the woman inside, and she raised two fingers to her forehead and flicked them outward. Her stranger’s salute, more friendly than a glance but not nearly as close as the way she greeted her friends. She wouldn’t care, anyway. She was probably preoccupied.

Angel returned the gesture, rolling down the window. “You lost or something, ma’am?” The almost southern accent stuck to her voice, her way of greeting people even if they were possible younger than her. She leaned out of the window, getting a better look at the stranger as she tied her hair back, to keep the black mass of tangles from falling in her eyes. “I’ve got some water in here if you’re thirst…” Her voice is uncertain.

Riot’s eyes narrowed above her bandanna, but she might have been smiling underneath it. “Not quite lost,” she panted, tilting her head up. The night air wasn’t cooling down much, but it helped a little. “Just tired.” When she could breathe normally again, she turned her gaze down to the other Killjoy. “If you could spare the water I’d appreciate it. I’ve been running a while.” She felt a little guilty, but she had been on both sides of this exchange before - freely exchanging goods and services was just something they did.

Angel smiled and leaned back inside the car, digging through her bag to retrieve a full bottle of clean, somehow cold water. She kicked the door open, not quite standing up, to hold the bottle out to the other Killjoy. “I don’t know how everything manages to stay like ice in that damn bag of mine. It’s like an old, tiny, portable refrigerator.” Angel laughs, pushing her fringe back that refused to stay up when she’d pulled her hair up. “I’m Angel, by the way. The haloless Adrenalyn Angel.”

She was skeptical about how cold it was - when was the last time the water had been cold? - but couldn’t bring herself to argue. “Thanks,” she murmured, popping the cap and taking a quick swig. It was crystal clear and tasted like clouds, the kind that had littered the skies before the Wars. She came forward a step or two once she had taken her share of the bottle. “Electric Riot. Or ‘Mama’, if you know the right people.” She prayed the other woman had never heard of her. She couldn’t make this much harder on herself.

“Mama sounds a bit familiar, but I’ve never heard of any Electric Riot. It’s nice to meet you.” Angel smiled again, shuffling her boots in the sand. Other than Aydan Bloodsilver and Sunset Melody, this was really the only Killjoy she’d ever met, aside from the Fabulous Killjoys. “If you don’t mind my asking, why were you running?”

Thank god. “Same to you.” She pulled her bandanna back over her mouth and sighed, kicking at the ground to keep her knees from buckling. It had been a long run. “Well. I.” She cleared her throat. “Just getting overwhelmed. It’s been a busy couple of days.” Understatement of the century, but it worked. Besides, the other Killjoy wouldn’t want to hear about Exterminators and old (ex-)friends that had taken bumps to the head. “How about you?” she asked after a moment of silence. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I was told to come here. Kobra Kid said I’d be safer.” Angel said, looking down. “He went off to find Ghoul and I haven’t heard a word from him since.” She shrugged, tilting her head back up. The other woman probably wouldn’t know who she was talking about, but it was worth a try anyway. “Considering Ghoul tried killing me,” Angel paused, giving a nervous sort of laugh, her mind replaying that memory again, of his unnaturally calm hands holding her own raygun to her throat. “He’s probably pissed off at himself now.” Her hands were shaking, but she didn’t notice. She just stared past them, at the sand around her feet.

Kobra Kid. Riot’s head jerked up and her eyes flashed, a million questions behind them. She bit down on her tongue until she tasted copper, trying to stay silent. “Well, if he thinks you’ll be safe here, this is probably a good spot to be,” she finally mustered. She didn’t ask the questions she wanted to, like is he okay? does he need help? what’s been happening with him? Instead, she shook her head. “I heard about Ghoul. That’s some scary shit.” She wrapped her arms tight around herself and the folder, holding everything in. She wouldn’t ask. They didn’t remember her, and it was better that way.