Chapter 1

It all started a long time ago. When the wall was put up to keep the imperfections out, when the domestication of the human race began. The world was split in two be sheets of metal and poured concrete. One side was home to the ‘perfect’, the captured and domesticated population of humans. The other was ruled by a colony of people, Desert Rats, the name given to them by themselves and by the soldiers of the ‘perfect.’

RBT, Rebirth for a Better Tomorrow, the company that started all of this. A soldier by the name of Z’koo, and his wife Ana had a dream that lead to nothing but destruction, but in their eyes the world was getting better. While one side fell, went hungry, lost population, the others grew. Each new perfect was to be assigned a number, and by the third month of the wars, the number of ‘soldiers’ enlisted, domesticated, stationed,  and working, were well into the thousands. Each new soldier was a man shorter to the rats. Each new soldier was a loss and a gain. Life was more than a battle for those stuck in the rings, and more than torture to those lost in the city.

Each group feared one thing equally. The shadow creatures, mutts according to the Desert Rats, were monsters. There was no other word to describe them. They’d learned to take human like forms, enabling themselves to slip in and out between both sides. That was until the differences were noticed. Day time for the people of the rings was a battle in itself, but at night, while the world slept, both sides prepared for war.

As the sun would set and the moon would arise to take its place, the mutts would come crawling from the barren trees, their shadowy bodies creeping forward as they hunted. The Desert Rats would flood their makeshift camps with light to drive the creatures away. Years of hiding had taught them. The mutts didn't like the lights. Their eyes would squint, they would hiss, and they would back away from the brightness. The RBT, to keep the shadow creatures away, relied on a moat built around their soldier post. The creatures, afraid of drowning, would slink away. Only the hungriest and the boldest would dare to leap the waters. Then hell would be upon the building. Many would die.

Our story begins in these wastelands. The Rats ran; hid their leaders from Z’koo's wrath, and the RBT would hunt, all while the secrets inside of the steel walls would silently continue. Soldiers flowed out, captured rats flowed in. Rats lost their sense of being, and came back out with odd scars.

Night was falling again. So long of practicing their routines, the people performed their tasks automatically. Light flooded the tent-cities, and beams of light shone around the tall, steel RBT post. From outside the rings, the mutts stared at their prey. Hunger rumbled in their stomachs. Grunting, whistling, chirping to one another in their odd tongue, they began their prowl. From inside the random patches of light all that was heard were the engines. Miles of sand separated the Rats different posts and their main city, made up of a large collection of tents.  Since the war started the rats way of living had changed. They were once rarely found in groups, living on their own with the most being only four or five together. Now they herded together, staying in one area at night, protecting each other and holding their own ground. There were exceptions of course, those who still thought isolation was the way to survive this.

Considered the top vermin by the RBT, Dusties were their top priority when it came to domestication.  The ones that grouped together, the ones that were only trying to stay alive, they were less important, unless, of course, they happened to be one of six main rats. Considered the most wanted, and the main priority of Z’koo’s life, these rats were wanted for nothing. The RBT wanted them dead, as simple as that. 

As the sun continued the sink the main camp filled in. Each post team pulled out of helmets and sand filled boots, cars and motor bikes filled the once empty looking area. Most of the rat population was teen and up, no one ever living in the rings past their thirties. So young faces filled the camps and fires were lit, preparing for the chill of another desert night. Just as the sun dropped behind the hills two more bikes tore through the center of the camp, stopping at the largest. The rings of lights were brought as the two disappeared inside the tent. Every young man and woman knew who these two were, and every heart had a feeling of nothing but gratitude.

Inside the two shed layers of clothing. Helmets, jackets, gloves and masks were piled onto the center table. A young woman, eighteen, wiped the extra sand from her eyes and retied her hair with the worn leather strap. The other, a man the same age shook the white powder from his blue hair, growling a little when kicked off his boots. There were four others inside the tent, either asleep or making something out of the only source of food the rats could find anymore.  This mash up of dirty bodies and intelligent minds made up the main force that held the Rats together.

Pony Boy, was the oldest and while he was probably most mistaken for the leader of this crew he was the body guard. He was head of all security holds on the posts, and helped keep the creatures under control when attacks were made. Decode was the youngest, and by far the brightest mind in probably the entire tent city. He was a technician, who earned him his first name, Tech, thought Decode was what he preferred to be called, and he was the master mind behind the lights that kept the mutts away. Jett Kid was the teams’ runner. The fastest Rat on foot and bike, he was a messenger and aid during security runs.

The medic and mechanic for the city was Max Ghoul. Born to his parents as Maxwell, his first name was kept, shortened, and he pieced together rest on a whim. He was a close friend to the leader of the group. Virus Cousin, the blue haired biker, held strong at the right hand of the young Crimson. His knowledge of the rings and positioning strategies of RBT was limitless, and he could always figure out their next move. Above them all, born into the leading position after the death of her father, was the eighteen year old, young woman. Her name was Crimson Cyanide.  After the capture of her lover, Acid Styles, her heart had become as cold as the night that was falling on them. Her mind was all survival, and nothing more.

“Lights up.” Crimson growled, dumping out her boots, and locking eyes with Decode. He gave a hesitant nod, disappearing through one of the many doors. She let out a soft sigh and turned to Virus when the lights around the camp were turned on. Year of doing this and the Rats were used to it. They had no more understand of what dark was. The sun kept them safe during the day, and the lights by night, and without those the entire population would be dead.

Virus met Crimson's gaze, and the two shared a long stare, silent conversation passing between them. How's the food storage? Low. We're running out. Fast. How is everyone holding up? Well, they're holding. Can we really ask for more? No, of course not. Things are alright. They'll get better right? Virus broke the eye contact before that question had an answer. Even Virus, who had all the answers, wasn't sure.

With knowing sighs, they retired for the night.

---

Resting within the fourth ring of the desert wastelands, the RBT building was also closing up for the sun fall. Sheets of heavy metal slid closed around the lower stories of the building, and the men and women all tucked themselves inside their pods, pods that induced artificial sleep, and they slept dreamlessly. It was to keep them strong, the program would say. But dreamers were thinkers, and thinkers were unwanted inside the building. Everyone knew. Everyone accepted it.

Lights flooded the outside of the tall building. They illuminated the faces of the creatures who waited in the dark, black shadows and pale light falling upon black surfaces. They squinted. Perhaps they were satisfied still, from the attack last week, which had claimed the lives of twenty-three soldiers, and wounded ten. Thirteen bodies were never recovered. Snorting softly to themselves, they watched, and listened, and licked their chops with inky black tongues. Z’koo kept watch from his high window, standing close to an alarm if the need arose to take action. But when the creatures turned away some hours later and paced on, even the mighty Z’koo found peace in his sleep pod.

Without the pleasure of induced sleep, the Rats found themselves awake many times through the night. The one up and moving around most was Crimson. With every growl, every kind of sound she was awake, reaching for a weapon. Nights like there were the hardest on everyone. They were so close, growling, snapping, and panting. The mutts were hungry, and at this rate they would even risk the light for their next meal. Sighing, Crimson rolled to her feet, slipping back into the boots and ducking out of her own personal tent. Her gun was on her hip, and one knife in each boot. A soft growl stopped her in her tracks, and the air warmed up around her.

There was a breath on her neck, and in a flash she spun, drawing her gun ready to shoot. Pony Boy hooked his arm around her waist with a concerned look.

“Calm down, I heard you get up.” He breathed, looking down at her and brushing a few loose strands on her hair from her eyes. “They’re horrible tonight, huh.” Crimson just nodded, not bothering to step back from him. Pony Boy had been her main source of comfort since Styles had been taken. With a sigh she leaned into the taller boys’ chest, just letting him hug her. True, she was the strongest willed in the camp, but that never meant she was able to hold her own. She needed these boys, just as much as they needed her.

“I miss him, Pony, I miss him so much.” She felt his shoulder drop in a sigh, and he locked his arms around her shoulder.

“I know you do, Crim, but...” He was gone. She knew where that sentence was going to end. She stepped away from him and made her way into the main meeting tent. The convoy would be here tomorrow, that was if they lived through the night. The Rats had been tracking this group of RBT travelers for three days now, considering their movements they were traveling at the coolest times of the day, which meant they were on foot. It was a three day journey tops on foot. They were too close for comfort so the men had to be more than ready.

True they had communicated with Crimson beforehand and agreed to her terms of meeting. They carried no weapons and the man the Rats called ‘the Hunter’ was to stay behind. There would be no deaths today.  Pony Boy sat up with Crimson the rest of the night, until the hissing and snarling in the trees faded away, and dawn began to creep up along the horizon.

The Rats, rising from a restless slumber, emerged from their tents, blinking in the bright flood lights. Sleep quickly left their faces, and they began to go about their daily routines. Some pulled on their best gear and set out on foot, to hunt. To try. They had to be careful, because those monsters were out there still, and were just as dangerous. Crimson had to stay in the tent camp, awaiting the arrival of the RBT soldiers. Her fingers itched to go out with her people. She wanted to help on the fruitless hunting, but they couldn't tell when the RBT would be there. Going out was a risk.

A guard of the camp revved their motorcycle engine, revved it loud, and the camp, which had broken out in soft murmurs, fell silent. A convoy crept slowly along in the distance. So they weren't on foot. They must have been resting frequently. Maybe they ran into trouble. The camp was silent. At the point of guns, the convoy slowed and came to a stop. Two figures stepped out, arms lifted, hands empty. They were patted down, their eyes were checked, and slowly, guns to their temples, they were led towards the camp.

One was a soldier who went by the name of Raj, who never experienced the life of a Rat. His hair was a dusty brown, eyes piercing green. His muscles rippled under his tight undershirt. The emblem of the RBT was branded on his breast, on his jacket, and his skin. Raj was one of the best soldiers, with a scar over his right cheek. The other was a young woman, named Ahyahna, whose firm body was decorated with scars, her long blonde hair tied on the back of her head. She had once been a member of Crimson's very camp, before her capture three years prior. Her shirt exposing her stomach revealed her battle scars, all of which she was proud of, and as she walked with her hands folded behind her head, her chin was high.

Author's Note

CO-WRITTEN with ALEX FRANKER

if you can notice a difference in writing styles, please let us know.

Please note that some characters in these stories WERE developed in the mind of Killjoys. Killjoys were 'developed' by My Chemical Romance for their album Danger Days. While some characters were developed with that album's influence the story, characteristics and life of these characters are totally original.