A/N: AU, Danger Days...The year is still 2019, but the ages in this fanfic are: Party Poison is 24, Jet Star is 24, Kobra Kid is 21, and Fun Ghoul is 20.

Also, this story is totally and completely set in the the fictional Killjoy-verse, or the storyline/concept of the album Danger Days. All of the unoriginal characters (for example, Party Poison) are characters, created by the band members themselves, specifically for this fictional world. That means, I am not writing about real people, and this is fan - fiction. Even if the actual names of the characters are ever used, that does not mean they are in any way the actual band members, as they did mention that the Killjoy names for these false, 2019 characters were only their aliases. True, I could have picked different names to avoid any mistake between the real people and these characters, but then I would be claiming the characters made by My Chemical Romance to be my own, which I'm not, and they are not.

That being said, in this fictional story, none of them are married, and they of course were never the band of My Chemical Romance. Their songs are mentioned as chapter titles and whatnot, but they were never them before any of this.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything or anyone in this entire story except for the plot (other than what was in the music videos and concept of the album, of course) and the OC's I made up. All titles of chapters are from My Chemical Romance songs unless said otherwise.

On with the story, hope you guys like it!

Chapter One

Look Alive, Sunshine

Exhausted.

That was the only word that could accurately describe the group of four Killjoys that sat at a table in an abandoned diner, staring at the empty cans of food in front of them; if 'food' was even the right word for the sloppy mush. But it was energy and strength nonetheless—something they very much needed to assure they did not fall under the capture of BLI, the insane government party that ran the state—or even others; it obviously couldn't be just California that felt the most hurt, but the last time they cared hadn't been recent. They would defeat it anyway, no matter how far their reign had gone, no matter how many people they had brainwashed into being on their side. They weren't alone in their rebelling; believe it or not, there were still sane people around. And despite the fact the BLI tried to get rid of every Killjoy they saw, they were still holding out against them.

"You all right, Poison?"

Brushing his brightly dyed red hair out of his eyes and raising his head, Party Poison looked at who had spoken, Fun Ghoul, and nodded. "Never better," he replied, though he had not stopping holding his side since they had arrived back from their most recent escape from the Draculoids, or the masked men that worked for BLI. Specifically concerning was a man named Korse; the BLI exterminator with a bad temper who had added Killjoys to the list of garbage they needed to get rid of in the zones surrounding Battery City. Something was clearly going on, because lately, the attacks had been more recent, like they somehow had a time limit to destroy all of them.

They had nearly succeeded, too.

After only a month of their frequent killings, there were less than half as many Killjoys as there had been before, which, to begin with, hadn't been many. So many young lives lost, all because they refused to be brainwashed by their medication…

What the fuck's happened to the world?

"What?"

Poison looked up without knowing who had said it, realizing he must have mumbled the words aloud. "Just…" He trailed off, then angrily slammed a fist into the table in front of them, gritting his teeth. "There's too many dying 'cause of those bastards."

"Like we don't know that," Jet Star sighed, leaning back slightly.

"No, I mean, we need to find another way to fight them."

"Like how?" Ghoul asked, gazing at him, and Poison felt him affectionately nudge him with his foot.

Having momentarily forgotten how limited their resources were, Party shook his head. "I don't know." he admitted, then paused thoughtfully. "We could always go looking in the zones closer to Battery City for allies."

"Yeah," Kobra Kid snorted, and Poison glanced at him. "Because getting closer to what's trying to kill us is such a good idea. We'd still be outnumbered, anyway."

Poison sighed, but his kid brother was right; he was usually right.

The boom box type radio settled on the counter hissed with static. After a moment, a voice sounded. "Callin' all Killjoys."

"Jesus, Doc," Kobra muttered; he knew what he was going to say. They just couldn't get a break, could they?

"Sshh," Poison gave him a hard glare as the man, Dr. Death Defying, continued. "There's a large group of Dracs attacking Zone 4. It's not lookin' too good. I know you've all gotta be pretty damn tired after all the fightin' that's been goin' on—"

Understatement, Party thought.

"—but no more lives need to be lost. It's your choice, tumbleweeds. Dr. D out."

"Shit." Poison murmured, and then stood and took a few experimental steps forward. It obviously hurt—no one hit with a ray gun got away feeling perfectly fine, if they got away at all. But he could walk, which meant he could force himself to run if needed—which meant he could help fight. He turned to the others; "You three good to go?"

"Of course," Jet instantly stood, followed by the two, who took just a bit longer.

"All right, then." Party sighed, grabbing the bandana around his neck and pulling it up to cover his nose. "Let's go."

It took the four Killjoys somewhere around ten minutes to drive their beat-up Trans-Am to Zone 4, five seconds to comprehend how bad it had gotten (and how outnumbered they were, as usual), and exactly one half second to see that most of the damage had been done. What must have been ten fallen allies lay on the dusty desert ground. Dead or injured, it was impossible to tell. And the ten or so that were still standing were struggling to fend off the thirty Draculoids attacking them.

Poison cursed viciously several times, stopping the car and getting his ray gun ready before he jumped out. Immediately, he shot one of the masked enemies, whipping around as he dodged a blast and returning it, assuring he did not miss.

"Where the fuck are all these Dracs coming from?" Kobra cursed, suddenly next to Poison as he tried to block both blows and gun blasts to himself and to other Killjoys around them. "There must be something they want—"

"Other than all of us, dead?" Poison interrupted, his teeth clenched, and Kobra noticed he was holding his side again.

"No—yeah—I don't know!" Kobra sputtered, and then a loud shout rose above the screams and yells. "Poison!"

The red-haired Killjoy flinched at the absolute terror in the voice, and then ran off towards where it had come from. Pushing through both Dracs and allies, avoiding blasts and delivering them, he finally reached Fun Ghoul, who was warding off four Dracs at once without help, and without a weapon. Actually, it seemed a Killjoy had tried to help him out—and was now lying on the ground, unmoving.

"Bastards!" Party shouted at the masked men, shooting at them and backing up, directly in front of Ghoul as staggered to retrieve the gun knocked out of his hand. Poison glanced back at him, then focused on the Dracs again, killing another and jerking back as the last two standing shot towards him at the same time. He bumped into Ghoul, and the two of them fell to the ground, missing the blasts in the process. Poison blinked hard and then picked up Ghoul's gun, aiming both and simultaneously pulling the triggers, killing one Drac instantly and causing the other one to drop to its knees, now unarmed.

Poison looked around to see most of the Draculoids running—the rest visibly limping—out of the battle, leaving hardly any Killjoys still standing. And those who were able to were getting the hell out of there, without a word, without a thanks. Thank you almost didn't exist out here; they all knew everyone was thankful of whoever helped them, the time they had to say it usually being used to instead run. He turned his attention to the Drac, placed the gun to its head, and fired. Then, he turned his attention to Ghoul. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just great." he gasped, managing to straighten up with Poison's help. He was cradling his shooting arm, where his jacket had been ripped open and was now bloodied.

"Damn," he murmured, taking off his bandana and wrapping it tightly around the wound, an arm around Ghoul's waist for both support and attempted comfort as they got to their feet. He looked up at Kobra and Jet as they came towards him, breathing hard. "Hey, what happened?"

"Nothing." Ghoul shook his head. "I'm okay."

Regarding his boyfriend doubtfully, Party sighed, glancing at the others. "You two, go look for any survivors."

They nodded and set off to look over the Killjoys on the ground, not exactly hopeful. It had been the same outcome the last few fights—those who did not walk away usually were beyond help, no matter how much of it they tried to give them.

Poison watched them go for a second and then tightened his grip on Ghoul, walking back to their car and opening the passenger side door for him. Ghoul smiled at him slightly, and then winced as he sat. "Hold that," Poison said as he released the other's arm, and Ghoul halfheartedly rolled his eyes, "I know."

"There's no one."

Poison sighed at his brother's voice and then nodded solemnly, having expected such news. He shut the door, going over to the driver's side as the rest got in the back and starting the engine. He looked around the area a last time, shaking his head in disgust. All those Killjoys dead…and, as always, it was BLI's fault.

They drove in absolute silence, the only sound being the wind rushing past them, whistling a sort of tune. Or an elegy, Poison thought, the scene of motionless bodies flashing through his mind again, though he was sure it was a mutual feeling throughout the survivors.

"Party," Jet began as they pulled up next to the diner, and they knew what he was going to say before he finished. "You know whose truck that is?"

He didn't; in fact, none of them recognized the dirty, rusty, beat up vehicle parked beside their hideout.

His sense of uncertainty growing, Poison opened the door and stepped out.

"No Drac would be driving something like that," Ghoul said, getting out along with the others, and Poison knew he was most likely right, yet did not lower his gun as he continued to make his way towards the opened door of the diner. They could not take a chance—whoever…or whatever was inside, they could very well still be their enemy; Drac or not.

He glanced back at the three, who were a little further behind, and entered the building with a soft, "Just, wait here a minute…"

His weapon at the ready, Poison very quickly inspected the side rooms, and then jumped slightly as a low, very soft groan came from somewhere close.

"Hey! Who's there?" Poison demanded, and when he got no answer, he curiously stepped towards the counter, placing his arms on it and pulling himself up a bit to lean over it—only to see the small form of a child, wrapped in several blankets. Confused, Poison set his gun down, wondering how she'd gotten here and realizing too late the very obvious answer that there was someone else there.

"Get the fuck away from her!"

Poison hadn't even the chance to turn around before the butt of a ray gun slammed into his skull, and he instantly slumped forward on the counter, out cold.

The boy behind him lowered his weapon, then growled in frustration as he heard someone else from outside call, "Hey, you okay in there?"

He hesitated a moment, then roughly grabbed the guy off the table by his shirt, an arm around his waist to support his surprisingly light but limp body. The boy took several steps towards the door, placing his gun to the guy's head. "If any of you come in," he shouted finally as they drew closer. "I'll kill him!"

"Shit," one of them said, and the footsteps abruptly stopped.

"You've got, like, two seconds to tell me what the hell you're doing here, or else—"

"We live here!"

The boy nearly dropped who he held. They lived here? "You guys are Killjoys?"

"Do we fucking look like anything else?" another snapped, and he finally really looked at the person he'd hit. His hair, about halfway down to his shoulders in length, was bright red, and his clothes weren't white or black...in fact, they were colorful. Too colorful for him to be whatever he'd previously believed. Which he wasn't sure had been anything, of course; he'd simply acted without thinking. Too many people had already tried to hurt them. "I'm just trying to heal my sister, okay?"

A pause, then: "We know a doctor!"

He closed his eyes in relief. "You do?"

"Yes." the same voice called, then added. "We're not going to hurt you."

"If you're lying to me, you're going to wish it was the other way around!" He allowed the Killjoy to drop, stepping over him to get to the doorway, inspecting the three outside, who were all holding their guns at their sides, and he pointed his own. "Drop them," he ordered, and they reluctantly did so.

He lowered his gun slightly and hesitantly nodded them inside, backing up and keeping his eyes on them.

"Poison!" Ghoul exclaimed, and he had hardly taken three steps towards him before the boy shouted, "Leave him!"

Ghoul stopped and turned, staring at the kid like he was crazy as he directed the gun at him. "What the fuck do you think I'm going to do?"

"Don't care," the boy replied, seeming extremely nervous, and he gestured to behind the counter. "My sister is sick. Help her."

Jet took a step forward and turned around so he could look at the boy better. He couldn't have been older than twenty, and his clothes, dirty and ripped in several places, were extremely vivid. His short hair was a brilliant azure, and he shook his bangs out of matching colored eyes.

"We're not doctors." Jet pointed out. "We said we knew one."

The boy stared at him. "Then get him here! Now!"

"All right, damn…" Jet muttered, carefully stepping over Poison with a silent sorry and going over to the radio on the table. He grabbed the phone attached to the radio on the counter and clicked the button. "Dr. D?" he began. "It's Jet Star."

Nothing but static answered him.

"Dr. D!" he tried again with the same outcome and lowered the phone, glancing wearily at the boy. "Look…"

"What is it, Jet Star?" the Doc's voice interrupted him unknowingly, and the three sighed in relief.

"Doc, we need you at the diner. There's a little girl…I don't know what's wrong with her, but uh…" He looked at the unnamed Killjoy again. "I think you better come."

"All right, I'm on my way." Dr. D replied after a moment, and Jet placed the phone back onto the radio, his eyes on the boy. He seemed relieved, but did not lower his gun. "Get in the booth," he said, gesturing towards the one nearest to him. "Now."

"We did what we said we would!" Kobra scowled as the boy pointed the gun at him. "What, do you still think we're a threat?"

"No. I'm trying to make sure none of you are lying."

"You heard his voice!"

The boy frowned at his lack of control over them, and then suddenly pointed his weapon at Party, resulting in the blonde to go silent.

"Now," the boy repeated, and the three slowly obeyed. He went around the counter, not ceasing his glare on them until he had reached where he had laid his sister down, bending over her and placing a hand on her forehead. She was still burning up, like she had been for the past day or two, and though she didn't seem to be getting worse, she wasn't getting better, either.

He stood, frustrated. "That doctor of yours better hurry the hell up," he said, walking back beside them. He noticed that the one who'd argued with him had not lifted his gaze from the unconscious Killjoy several feet from him since he had sat down. He was tensed, as if about to hit something, though he had no expression on his face. The guy with the shoulder-length black hair was also focused on the floor, but the other was staring at him, as if daring him to do anything.

He scowled and bent down, taking a grip on Poison's jacket and yanking him up to shove him into the empty booth across from them. The three glared at him as he then sat as well, facing the barrel of the gun in Poison's direction, sending a very clear silent message.

"Bastard," Ghoul mumbled, shaking his head in utter aggravation, exchanging a glance with the other two.

"Might as well do something useful," the boy said after a moment. His voice had stopped shaking; as long as he knew they weren't going to do anything, he was okay. "You guys got any food or water? We ran out and need some for when we get back on the road."

No one answered, and he shrugged. "I already know you do. I was lookin' for meds and saw some in the back." He glared at Kobra. "Go get some and put it in a bag."

Kobra did not move for a minute, and the boy reached over, pressing the gun into Poison's side so hard he groaned. "I'm not asking for all of it. And I believe I have something against you, am I wrong?"

The blonde held back a string of curses and stood, reluctantly stepping past them and disappearing into the other room.

"I'm Neon Explosion, or just Neo." the guy introduced himself.

"Because we wanted to know so badly," Jet muttered, and Neo shrugged again. After a few minutes, Kobra came back, holding a pillowcase that contained a few cans and bottles. The Power Pup mush was easier to find and obtain than water was; they had already been low in their supply.

He hesitated, then set it down before Neo, who smiled and nodded, satisfied. "Good."

"Yeah, glad we could help!" Kobra snapped, plopping down on the seat next to Jet again and folding his arms across his chest.

"Ne…" a very soft, very weak voice split the silence, and Neo suddenly scrambled out of the booth like he'd been electrocuted, rushing behind the counter.

"Come on, Doc…" Ghoul breathed, staring anxiously out of the glass.

"Ah, fuck…"

All three instantly turned their attention to Poison as he raised his head and placed a hand on the back of it. He blinked at them and then sat up straight, his eyes wide. "Where's that asshole?"

"Right here," Neo interrupted, and Poison flinched, looking up at him in surprise as he approached him. "And it's Neo."

"Listen!" Party scowled, looking him over and then standing up, clenching his fist like he was going to punch him. "Whatever you—"

Neo drove the barrel of his gun into the Killjoy's stomach, and Poison doubled over, gasping, staggering and falling back into the booth.

"Hey!" Kobra shouted, jumping to his feet.

"Watch it," Neo growled, and then tightened his grip on the ray gun, placing it to Poison's temple. The red-haired Killjoy did not move, immobilized by the ache in his head and agony in his side. The blow had hit where the Drac had previously shot him, practically bringing him to tears.

"What the hell is going on?"

All but Poison looked up to see Dr. Death Defying in the doorway, his brow furrowed as he took in the scene. An older female Killjoy, known as Cloudy Skye, stayed outside by the van they'd arrived in, unaware of what was going on inside; the truck hardly caught her attention.

"You're the doctor?" Neo asked, and Dr. D nodded, frowning.

"Then come help my sister," he demanded, releasing the Killjoy to stand and lead the hesitant man behind the counter, though it was with a bit of difficulty, considering he was in an electric scooter.

Poison groaned softly and leaned over to put his forehead on the table, and Ghoul moved quickly beside him. "Hey," he murmured worriedly, and then gasped as, when he moved his arm to wrap around his waist, he hissed in pain and shifted away from his touch. Ghoul removed his hand instantly, and looked at the others as they got in the seat across from them.

"Party," Kobra tried, though his brother did not answer other than shaking his head slightly.

Finally tuning in the conversation beside them, Ghoul heard Dr. D say, "…and rest. A lot of rest."

"Sure, of course," Neo replied sincerely, and then Dr. D slowly wheeled out. "Thank you," he added, standing and now holding the little girl. She was about ten, her curly hair matted and sticking to her face, and her face was very pale. Pressed to her blankets in Neo's hand was a small packet of several painkillers.

Dr. D did not reply, and Neo stepped past him, grabbing the bag with his free hand, grunting with the effort of carrying both his sister and then stuff, and then stopped at the door. "I'm sorry," he softly murmured, not turning around, and then left. The Doc shook his head and moved his attention to the four at the table. Ghoul looked at him and then stepped out of the booth, pulling the red head towards the edge of the seat.

"Party," Dr. D said, and when he did not respond, his head lowered onto his chest, the Doc looked him over, noticing he was holding his side. He pushed the boy's hand away, opening the Killjoy's jacket and lifting his shirt slightly to reveal a large, bloodied gash along his midsection.

"Holy shit!" Kobra breathed. "That asshole just did that?"

"Did he shoot him?"

The blonde shook his head. "No. He didn't. He might've gotten hit before."

"He'll be okay," Dr. D assured him after a moment, and then they looked up as Skye finally came in, her eyes widening as she saw them. "Um," she began, gesturing with a thumb behind her, utterly confused. Dr. D sighed and reached down to the first aid kit he had brought for the girl, opening it. "It's fine," he finally replied, pressing a cloth he'd dabbed with alcohol onto Poison's side.

"Ow! Damn!" Poison suddenly exclaimed, jolting into full awareness and trying to shove the cloth away. Ghoul grabbed his wrists, holding them up and away, and Poison groaned as Dr. D rewet the cloth with the cleaning solution, sympathetic but unable to help it. He'd probably grown a little too used to seeing people in pain, obviously hating it each time but no longer acknowledging it as anything but what he had to do. He'd simply tended to too many Killjoys for it to affect him as much as it used to.

Ghoul hesitated, then leaned down as Party moaned again, pressing his lips to his. Poison immediately relaxed a bit, and he smiled weakly as Ghoul pulled back, the pain momentarily forgotten, wincing after a long moment and then sort of pursing his lips towards him, wanting it to go away again.

Ghoul gladly accepted the request.

At last, Dr. D removed the cloth, and Ghoul pulled back, glancing at his side again. Now cleaned, the gash looked far less awful. The Doc wrapped it gently and then lowered his shirt, and Poison turned to lean back, breathing hard, his eyes closed.

The man glanced at Ghoul, who was noticeably favoring his arm, and frowned. "You get hit too?"

Ghoul gave a small shrug. "Earlier." he said, and Dr. D gestured for him to sit in the other seat, backing up and then turning to face him completely, removing Poison's bandana and rolling up his sleeve. Ghoul hesitatingly looked at it, feeling a bit relieved as he inspected it for longer than the glimpses he'd been taking. It was neither large nor deep—simply a gash from the Drac he'd been fighting, though he still hadn't much of a clue what exactly had happened.

Kobra scowled and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall beside him.

"What?" Jet asked, and the blonde cursed. "We're gonna have to find more water."

"You didn't give them all of it, did you?" Jet demanded.

"Of course not!" Kobra snapped. "But we were low already."

"W-we need gas, too." Ghoul winced as Dr. D finished cleaning and wrapping his arm, placing the kit on the counter with a long sigh, lifting an arm to wipe his forehead.

"Damn," Jet shook his head. "Every gas station around here is guarded by Dracs now."

"Not…" Party began, blinking to focus and finally raising his head, looking at them. "Not closer to the city." The ones out where they were were only guarded in case any Killjoys attempted to try and raid them. Almost none of them dared to go to the ones near Battery City, and therefore it wasn't needed as much.

"Yeah," Kobra shook his head, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Because that's a good idea; go to where the station would be the only place not swarming with guys trying to kill us."

"If they don't know we're Killjoys, they won't care."

Kobra crossed his arms, noticing his brother had a slight glimmer in his eyes, his gaze going to Dr. D in a silent communication and then back to the blonde, who sighed.

"Fine. What's your plan?"