accioceruleanromanceatthedisco:

electricriot:

It was twilight, and Electric Riot was tending a fire.

The showdown (if one could call it that) with the Exterminator formerly known as Heartbreak Hustler had been weeks ago. Fairly uneventful, really - a few words, a couple of shots, and the crunch of tires on desert sand as she sped away. So why was it still replaying behind her eyelids every time she tried to sleep?

“There’s nothing to fear from BLI, Sarah. Mom and Dad are here.”

She shook her head, but the voice of her brother - still haunting and high-pitched - remained.

“They’ll find a way to make you feel all better, just like me.”

“No. Not again, Max.”

And then she had shot him. In the chest, then in the head. Once she was sure it was done, she ran for the car and left. She repeated her last words to her brother as she poked at a white folder in the fire pit. “Not again, Max.” With a careful smile, she watched as the BLI logo on the file’s front melted into ash.

Cerulean Dynamo was, for the lack of a better word, wandering. She’d lost the hut she’d been staying in to a couple of Exterminators. She didn’t, couldn’t deal with them, so as soon as she saw and heard the custom black car coming, she grabbed what she could, including the motorbike she’d gotten off of a Draculoid a few zones ago and still had some power left- just enough to get as far as possible as fast as possible. And then she dumped the bike and kept walking, cursing her luck that she’d only had a bottle of water. It wasn’t much, wasn’t all that she needed, and knowing her luck, she’d probably use it up within the hour and die from starvation and dehydration before anything else got to her.

It was twilight, and she saw a fire in the distance. No draculoid would’ve been stupid enough, even with their melted and altered memories and acting, to make a fire. They’d probably catch fire to themselves first. And she was going to use that fact as a chance to hope bigger, hand close to her raygun but still approaching carefully, hoping, reallyreally hoping that it was a killjoy making that fire, not anyone from BLI. Or one of those ambushers and thieves who’d been getting more and more common as times got more desperate.

Almost everything from the folder had been burned. It was almost all ash: the photographs; the reconnaissance reports; the list of their crimes. The only thing left was the tab at the top, with Hustler’s alias and real name on it, and Riot sat back on her heels and watched it burn. It was over. It was really over. The last ghost had been excised from her past - the Fabulous Killjoys had long since moved on, and Hustler was the only thing left. And he was gone.

Sand crunched behind Riot and a little to her left, and she sat completely still, holding her breath. Waiting. The slow steps were definitely not that of an Exterminator; they didn’t like getting close to begin with, and when they did, they ran. Cowards. No, this was different. She waited a few moments, and when the steps got closer she sprang up, blaster in hand. She wouldn’t shoot yet, she just wanted to know who was coming. When it was a Killjoy, she lowered the muzzle of the gun slightly. “Killjoy?” she called, just to be sure. She’d had enough of a scare last time.