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One Small Spark 02 - Assassinate

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            Skeletons of old suburbs lined these parts of the desert. They were abandoned with the notable exception of those looking for trouble and Disco was definitely looking for trouble- and then some. The air was toxic that far out but the gas mask built into her helmet kept her breathing. Poison in the air from wars long since past left a thick yellowish haze amidst the dust and dirt that she kicked up on her old motorcycle. This far out into the zones was unsettling. She half-expected monsters to crawl from the sand and attack her.

            The midday sun reflected off of her matte silver helmet in a blinding light. She was looking to be stealthy but this far out no one would see her anyway. Disco had never run across anyone in Zone Seven before and she didn’t think today would be any different.

            One crack in her mask and it would be over. She hated Zone Seven. Just a breath of this stuff would make even the strongest Killjoy sick for weeks. A few minutes? Permanent damage. An hour? That was the longest anyone had ever lasted before the damage had been irreparable. It choked, spread, shut down organ after organ until finally the body could no longer function. Suffocation in the Outer Zones was one of the most brutal and horrid ways to die.

            She came to a stop, turning her bike back toward the inner zones. Recently, her superiors had been in touch with an arms dealer, one that thrived on anonymity but was friendly to the Killjoys’ cause. There was little she knew about the manufacturer just that they were difficult to contact and left weapons at odd drop points. That’s what she was doing there, after all, in the last so-called habitable Zone before the desert became too radioactive. She’d been told to go to these coordinates which were right behind the huge concrete walls that had been built to stop the spread of radiation into the outer zones.

            Sure enough, there was a beat-up old briefcase lying in the dirt, waiting for her. Flames were drawn all along the bottom of it. She grasped the handle and returned to her bike, attaching the briefcase to the back.

            “Disco.”

            She looked away from the notebook filled with kanji and shut it immediately. The red jacket would have been telltale enough but the nearly white pompadour he sported was a dead giveaway. Kobra Kid. Setting down her book she folded her legs and gave him her full attention.

            “Poison needs to see you.” When she didn’t move, Kobra sat next to her, back to the table she’d been using. It wasn’t a personal call. She could tell that from his body language. Usually Kobra was engaging and funny but right now he was all business. It wouldn’t do any good to ask why Poison wanted her. She’d have to go see for herself. “He’s waiting on you. Not exactly the patient type either.”

            That wasn’t a threat. It was a well-known fact that the leader of the Eastern faction of Killjoys in Zone Three didn’t have much patience for anything. If she didn’t go to him when he called then he’d give the job to someone else and she’d be admonished for it later. It was likely that: a job. Either that or she had to help dig him out of some mess he’d gotten himself into. Poison was always getting into trouble.

            She left Zone Seven as fast as she could. There were few other places she hated more than that. The quiet, the still air, the sick yellow color, it was disgusting. If she’d had an accident and died out there no one would ever find her. That was one of her worst fears. For a few hours she drove until she reached the western end of the Third Zone. This wasn’t her destination but it was easier to hide her vehicle there in a crowded parking lot than it would be out in the emptiness of the end of Zone Four. She ditched her helmet with her bike and carried the briefcase with her past the crude shelters that littered this part of Zone Three.

            Very few looked up at her as she passed. Most people living in the Zones knew better than to engage with strangers. The briefcase had piqued her curiosity. She couldn’t wait to open it up and see the beauty that lay inside. Poison hadn’t told her what kind of gun it was but she had assumed it was a sniper rifle she’d have to assemble. Anything with a scope was difficult to find. Should be an easy, clean job with little mess left behind. She’d do it from afar once she found her target’s location.

            This far from Battery City, no one would give her a second glance and no one would ever guess what she was up to. She was dressed for anonymity, black pants, black boots with a red heel, silver jacket tied across her middle, sunglasses over her eyes. They’d never mistake her for a Killjoy either. Most Killjoys wore outlandish colors and Disco was usually the same but when she was working, that was a different thing altogether.

            Party Poison wore his yellow mask at the top of his head, his red hair pushed chaotically from his face, shaved sides of his head exposed. He hunched over his yellow and blue raygun that was now in pieces. The trigger had melted. Disco was certain this was because of some dumb experiment Poison had run and not because he’d been in a fight. He was fiddling with an odd looking lighter in his grasp, staring at it curiously. She cleared her throat when he didn’t turn to greet her. He’d had no idea she was there.

            Immediately his gaze snapped up at her and he flicked the lighter closed before shoving it into his pocket. Still, he played with it even there, seemingly infatuated.

            “You wanted to see me?”

            “Yeah, I did.” He stood, moving his raygun onto a small desk before pacing in front of it. He seemed frustrated by whatever task he was about to give her. “Disco Bitch…” He smirked as if the name amused him. “I have a very important job for you.”

            “Name it, boss.” She shrugged. Disco was often called to handle gruesome tasks. She had the stomach for it. Years ago, she had separated herself from the guilt that came with taking lives.

            “Tiger Beatdown.”

            “Another Killjoy? You want me to kill one of our own?” Disco’s response had been expected and Poison folded his arms across his chest. “Not just one of our own but the leader of the Western faction of Killjoys? Your partner? I won’t do it without good reason, Poison. Once we start turning against each other then they win. You know that better than anyone.”

            “I know very well what I said.” He was very serious, a side of Poison that Disco rarely saw. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his tight tan pants.

            “Give me a good reason. Why should I kill him? Why shouldn’t I kill you for suggesting it?”

            “I haven’t hurt any kids. I haven’t taken a deal with the Dracs. I’m not setting us up for a fall.”

            “And he has?”

            “I have reliable information that he’s using his Killjoys to make deals with the Dracs. He’s ratted out several Killjoys that have gone missing in the past weeks. Getting our people killed. Reports he’s selling the orphans we save to the Dracs. Trust me, I don’t want to do this but these reports are monstrous and something has to be done. I’d hope that if I ever did anything so fucking disgusting that someone would put me out of my goddamn misery because I wouldn’t deserve to keep breathing.”

            An hour passed and she made it into Zone Four. Thankfully she wouldn’t have to walk the whole thing. Obvious signs of Killjoys began to emerge: graffiti, watchtowers, makeshift gates and fences. Once certain she was alone, Disco knelt in the dirt and opened the briefcase. A smile spread across her face. The gun was in pieces but was beautifully crafted. It made her giddy. Each time she snapped a piece into place she found something new and exciting. It was a piece of art. It was a shame it was designed to ditch after the job. She’d at least keep the scope.

            Beneath the gun was a switchblade with a note scrawled in red pen. It was complementary with the purchase of the rifle. Pocketing the blade, she ditched the suitcase. No one would think twice about finding it in the desert. It wasn’t like the Dracs would investigate the death of a Killjoy anyway. They were practically considered rats in Battery City.

            Guards patrolled the perimeters of the Killjoy camp. It was less of a camp and more of a small town with guard posts positioned strategically around the perimeter. A storm was rolling in, Disco could see it on the horizon so the guards were staying at their posts and keeping a sharp eye out. The buildings she could see in the distance through the dust and haze were low to the ground, some of them sunken underground. The Eastern faction tended to build up rather than out like the Western faction did.

            Quietly, Disco approached one of the guards. As they turned the corner, she knocked their feet from underneath them and leapt on top of them. With her hand over their mouth and nose she waited until their breathing was so stifled that they passed out. She would drag them to the side and by the time they woke up she’d be long gone.

            A shape shifted before her and she watched as another guard appeared around the corner. Cursing, she ducked out of the way of laser fire. In a panic, she rushed the guard and knocked him to the ground. They fought over the laser pistol in his hands for a brief second before she managed to pull his fingers free. Tossing the gun out of the way she sat atop the guard before pinning him to the ground. Then she forced her arm against his neck and waited for his breath to leave him like his friend.

            It was likely that they had already sounded the alarm. Killjoys on guard were careful. Alert first, attack second. That wasn’t part of her plan but she’d work around it. All she needed to do was to locate her mark and then get the hell out of there. Catching her breath, Disco took a bandana from her pocket and wrapped it around her face. Dusting herself off she searched for anyone coming after her. So far nothing.

            For some reason she had expected more resistance, especially if this faction of Killjoys had been infiltrated by Better Living Industries. Then again, if Tiger Beatdown was setting his Killjoys up for a fall it might have been better to keep security lax.

            “What do you want me to do?” She’d been pacing for a good twenty minutes. It was unsettling to have to take out one of their own. “You think he’s prepared for an attack? If he’s turned sides then it’s likely he’s upped security.”

            “Likely.” Poison was no longer looking at her but playing with that damn lighter again, like it held some kind of secret. “I’ve thought about this for a long while before coming to this conclusion. Don’t you think I thought about it? Tiger Beatdown is a competent man. Even if he hadn’t turned sides security would be tight. Getting into our place isn’t easy, is it? Would you expect any different from them?”

            “So, what do you suggest I do? Walk in there with a big gun and shoot him in the face?”

            “Have I ever suggested that?” Poison frowned and Disco chuckled. “Forget I said that. I know I’m impulsive. I pay you not to be. Sneak in there. I happen to know you’re good at sneaking. Watch him. Kill him. Report back here.” He finally put the lighter into his pants pocket and stopped playing with it. “I understand if you don’t want the job.”

            “I didn’t say that. I’ll do it. It’s difficult to believe that one of our own has turned. Once we start fighting amongst ourselves then we’ve lost sight of our cause.”

            “You said that. Trust me, I don’t like this anymore than you do. But something has to be done. My sources are reliable. You need a gun and Kobra Kid has provided one for you. You can find it here.” Poison walked to her and handed her a folded-up piece of parchment.

            “Zone Seven? Really?” Disco scoffed in disgust.

            “It’s dangerous but I have faith you can handle it. Anything else?”

            “No.” Flooded with determination she turned to leave him and his lighter be. She trusted Party Poison. When he had a reliable tip, it was always right. When an organization got as big as the Killjoys had it was bound to have a few traitors in the group. “I’ll see you when it’s done.”

            “Have you told Tiger yet?” She stopped short and ducked low behind a set of crates covered in a tarp and listened. A man and a woman were chatting just around the other side of it. Both of them were armed and looked worried. They had been alerted and were watching for her. Worried guards were often trigger happy so she hoped to avoid contact if she could.

            “No, he’s still out at the edge of the zone. I sent a runner to spread the message to him and Alpaca.”

            “Good. What’s he doing out there anyway? There’s a storm coming. We should be hunkering down.”

            “I was told it was none of my goddamn business. You know Agent Alpaca. He’s defensive about anything that involves Tiger.”

            That was all Disco needed to hear. They thought she was breaking into their faction for supplies. The wind was picking up and a haze of sand hung in the air offering her cover as she turned her back to the faction and continued into the desert.

            Her goggles kept getting blocked up with sand and she had to keep wiping them in annoyance. It was odd to her that she met little resistance on the way to where their leader had been. Sticking along the edges of the zone it wouldn’t take her long to find him. With any luck he'd be vulnerable or heading back to the camp before the storm hit.

            The sound of children playing and laughing carried on the wind. Ducking low to the sand she lifted the gun into place and stared through the scope. Children shouldn’t have been out in the storm. It wasn’t just the dust, but dark clouds were approaching. Many rainstorms carried acid and rot with them these days. The whole of the zones would be taking cover soon. Through the scope she could see at least ten small children running around playing with a few old toys. They were thin and malnourished but seemed happier than most kids she saw in the Zones.

            Tiger Beatdown sat with them on an old milk crate. He was handing out cans of food to the kids that he was opening with a utility knife. Disco wiped the scope to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. The can was familiar. These were rations that had been recovered from a raid earlier in the week. Why would a man who planned to sell these kids to Dracs be sacrificing his personal storage of food for them? She hesitated then adjusted the position of her gun.

            The shot was perfect. She could squeeze the trigger and be out of there before anyone knew she was there. She didn’t do it. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. He was feeding orphans. Even if he was a turncoat it felt like bad karma to blow his brains out all over those kids. Besides that, they looked happy. He was smiling and joking with them, telling them wild stories. These didn’t seem like the actions of a man who was going to send kids to their deaths.

            Some of the older kids were reinforcing their housing in preparation for the oncoming storm. The weather out there was unpredictable. She could see him instructing them on what to do. To make matters worse the kids were wearing patches on their jackets given out by the Killjoys to identify them. They had to have been saved from the Dracs and recently at that, judging by the state of them. She looked away from the gun and took a breath. What if she decided not to do it? What if Party Poison’s reliable information was wrong? Maybe he’d been misled.

            On the other hand, she trusted him. He’d never steered her wrong before and stuck his neck out for her time and again. Either Tiger Beatdown was an excellent liar or Poison was being deceived. But how? He only trusted a handful of people. She wasn’t even sure he actually trusted her. If his information was reliable it had to have come from someone close to him. She was torn. Disco always trusted her gut and her gut said that they were being deceived.

            She’d return to Poison and tell him what she’d observed and maybe instead of killing Tiger Beatdown they could meet with him and check their sources a bit better. Getting up, she started through the sand, gun in hand. Suddenly she was struck from behind and she felt the blood drip down the back of her neck past her short-cropped hair.

            Stumbling forward she fell face first onto the ground and blacked out.

 

            When she opened her eyes again the world spun around her. Everything was dark and uncomfortable and so she closed them again. She heard voices nearby.

            “It’s a Killjoy from the east.” A stern voice spoke.

            “Another Killjoy? Why attack us?”

            “No clue but she was carrying a pretty deadly gun.” The stern voice sounded angrier with each word. “We should kill her. Send a message.”

            “No. If she was here then she was here for good reason.” A third voice interjected.

            Her head was splitting. She could feel the swelling on her forehead from where she’d been struck. Opening her eyes again she felt her vision burn as blood dripped into them. There was a metallic table set before her and sitting on the other side of it were two men. She’d never seen either one of them before but from the scowl on the one’s face she guessed he’d had the stern words in regards to her. Everything he wore was lined with fur which she thought was silly out in the desert. There was no way he wasn’t sweating.

            Making an attempt to stand she found her hands were cuffed and the chain was looped behind her through the bars of the chair she sat on. Momentarily she thrashed to try and escape but stopped quickly. There was no point. All she would accomplish was hurting herself and wasting energy. Her head was spinning and she felt sick to her stomach. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in this position only this time the people on the other side of the table were supposed to be her allies.

            “You came here to murder Tiger Beatdown, didn’t you?” The stern man spoke calmly but his face was filled with irritation. He wanted to kill her where she sat. He had no interest in hearing her explanation but something was keeping him from doing so. Behind him she saw Tiger Beatdown himself leaning against the wall. He said nothing but watched them curiously instead. She guessed that he was the reason that she wasn’t being beaten. A third man sat at the table, his teal leather jacket draped over the chair behind him.

            “Hey. Pay attention to me.” Alpaca smashed his hand against the table. She recognized him now. Agent Alpaca, right hand man and best friend to Tiger Beatdown. Disco turned her attention back to him. She’d guessed his identity well enough. “Did you or did you not come to kill Tiger Beatdown?” Disco turned her attention back to Agent Alpaca as he slammed his fists on the table before her. “Yes or no!”

            She stared at him blankly. While she had decided not to take the shot, she was loyal to Party Poison. She wouldn’t be giving them the satisfaction of an answer.

            “Where did you find such a sophisticated weapon?” Agent Alpaca placed the gun onto the table piece by piece. It was useless taken apart like it was. Disco didn’t even bother to look down at it, she kept her eyes on Agent Alpaca’s, narrowed, her face calm.

            “She won’t answer you.” The man seated next to Alpaca scowled. Disco would wait to see what their judgment decided upon. Either punish her or execute her. She didn’t care either way. When she hadn’t taken that shot, she had sealed her fate and prepared herself for every outcome.

            “She will or we’ll start cutting off fingers.” Alpaca stood and walked toward a cabinet on the far right and pulled out a tray of tools.

            “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?” Tiger Beatdown interrupted, his voice smooth and soft in comparison to his counterpart. He didn’t move but he did look at her for the first time since she’d woken up. He seemed sympathetic.

            “She’s not going to answer you. There’s point in reasoning with her.” Agent Alpaca set down the tray in frustration.

            “Quiet, Alpaca. I repeat: Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance? I’m sure you had a good shot. I let my guard down. Hell, I wasn’t even wearing my helmet. We could barely see ten feet around us with all that dust. That scope gave you quite the advantage.” Tiger sounded like he was kicking himself. “I should have been more careful.” Disco didn’t see the harm in answering this question. The answer had been plaguing her anyway.

            “I was told that you’d turned sides and were worthy of my gun. You’ve been shipping orphans to the Dracs. Turning on your own. You’ve been bought.” She answered, voice monotone. “I would have taken the shot but you were feeding children with the food from our last raid. Why would you be sharing your personal store with these kids you were going to sell? Helping them take shelter from the storm? I decided in the moment that there must be some miscommunication.”

            The room fell silent. Tiger eyed her from against the wall then looked to his men with a sigh. “Alpaca? Lucky? Go. Make sure everything’s secure before the storm hits. I’ll take it from here.”

            “Tiger, I strongly advise against this. She is an assassin who left many of our men unconscious out in the desert, leaving our perimeter at risk.” Agent Alpaca sat upright with a clear frown on his face. “Allow me to at least sit in for protection.”

            “I appreciate your worry, Alpaca, but I’m fine. Dismissed.” Tiger Beatdown waited for Alpaca and Lucky to leave the room before he took one of the seats. He folded his hands neatly on the table before him and tilted his gaze toward the woman who had been captured during an assassination attempt. His messy brown hair fell around his face over dark eyes. He watched her curiously and Disco did not turn her gaze. She was waiting for the axe to drop, for the pins to fall.
Meet Disco Bitch, Tiger Beatdown, and Agent Alpaca. None of these characters belong to me, but rather a friend of mine who has let me take lord over them and helped me come up with this concept in the first place. I hope you enjoy the new chapter! Don't worry, Fire Frenzy will be back next chapter.

Killjoys story idea belongs to me, as well as the situations the characters are getting themselves into.

The Killjoys concept came from My Chemical Romance and their almighty awesometasticness.

Next: Chapter Three: Ka-Boom
First: Chapter One: Burn Down the Bar
© 2010 - 2024 Khadrimx
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