#like brass knuckle fucking bike chain with the lock on bat with nails in it etc. absolutely sick of that guy idc how sympathetic he is

[skrunksthatwunk]

i would really appreciate it if i didn't have a brain that thought torturing me was a helpful response to being scared of us. im your copilot stop fucking tazing me you dick

[dngrdyke]

Home Renovation With the Homosexuals

TW: gore

Monday.

Dyke and Faggot rode for hours until they found what they were looking for. Dyke had seen it a few times before the two teamed up, but she didn't have the strength or the motivation to fix it up. Now that she had Faggot to help her, she figured it would be a good time to put down roots.

The building itself used to be a house, she thought. It looked like it anyway. Four walls, two storeys and an attic? Didn't matter. Out there, it's free real estate.

The outside used to be white but over time it ended up looking kinda dusty and run-down, just like the rest of the buildings left after the Analog Wars.

"This is it?" Faggot asked when they pulled up. "I was expecting something with a little more..."

"Little more what?"

"Just a little... more."

"Oh, alright Mr Picky. You think you could do better?"

"No, no! That's not what I'm saying!"

Dyke laughed and kicked down the bike stand. "I know it ain't. I'm just yankin' your chain, kid. Now c'mon and haul ass. I want this place ready for the afterparty. Bring the radio."

Faggot grabbed it and followed Dyke inside. Some other Desert folks had obviously taken refuge inside. Here and there were empty soda and beer cans, as well as empty food packets.

"You keep checking down here. I'm gonna make sure the upstairs is still okay," Dyke said. Even though she said it calmly, she took out one of her guns, just in case. You never can be too careful in the desert.

The stairs were sound, and two of the upstairs rooms even had mattresses. The attic was clear as well.

"Faggot, we struck gold!" she yelled down.

"Fuck yeah! Can I put the radio on now?"

Tuesday.

Dyke stole- well, borrowed- some tools from D's station and was currently nailing down some loose floorboards upstairs. Faggot was blasting the radio while cleaning the kitchen room. Turns out Blind hadn't killed the water supply, so they even had running water. And the bathroom had a shower! Just imagine. No more shitty face splashes for her. Sure, the water would be cold, but damn it if that mattered.

She heard the song end from downstairs and D's voice started with the announcements.

"Crank it up!"

The voice got louder. "-and we remind you folks again to be on the lookout. Scarlet Ripper and the Mongoose don't wear masks, 'cause if you see 'em, you're dead. Our next announcement is just a little reminder from the DB and F- and from the Killjoys themselves- that there's still a drag race goin' down at the Hub Thursday night. For all you rock’n’rollers with motorbabies, don’t sweat it tryna find a babysitter for the night. Bring ‘em along. Fun for all the family. So, far our challengers are,” he cleared his throat dramatically. “Ahem. Party Poison and the Kobra Kid, Dyke on a Bike and Jet Star, Roadkill and Rock Machine-”

“Hey, Dee! Who’re Roadkill and Rock Machine?” Faggot called up.

“No idea, kid!”

Wednesday.

Most of the shit in the house was done. As housewarming gifts, Kobra and Ghoul had given them all their leftover cans of spray paint. Poison wasn’t too happy, but he settled for a trade: he got to paint a mural in the “living room”, as Dyke was calling the front room with some stolen beanbags. He spent the whole day locked in there with Cherri, the windows thrown open, and nobody else was allowed in. Except Ghoul, but Ghoul went where he wanted anyway. Dee, Jet and Kobra took the stairs and the upstairs rooms, while Faggot took the attic. He insisted on it. Said he was gonna make it look like “the coolest motherfuckin’ loft you ever saw.” They all camped out that night so nobody would die from inhaling the paint fumes, even though they were all pretty spaced out from them anyway. They all went to bed pretty early (by their standards), but as Dee was drifting off she muttered to Poison beside her. “I’m gonna kick your ass tomorrow night.”

He didn’t respond.

Thursday morning.

The crew were up bright and early with the rising of the sun. They had a party to prep for.

Poison took over the bathroom for a solid three hours to redo his roots. “Being this awesome doesn’t come from shitty dye jobs,” he said, grinning at Dee leaning against the doorway. She flipped him off as she walked away, shaking her head.

“I’m gettin’ the booze at the Rendezvous!” she called out as she left the house, popping the collar on her jacket and snapping on her mask. Sunburn was a killer in more ways than one.

The Rendezvous was a spot pretty near the new Killjoy House. You got in contact with Cherri Cola, who got in contact with his contact, who got you anything you wanted from Bat City. Then you met him at the Rendezvous. Dee went all out for this party. The strongest, rawest vodka, straight from the slums of the Lobby.

In the heat-haze of midday, Dyke saw two figures kneeling on the ground beside a third body. As she got closer, she could see that the body was a Drac, and the two figures were men without masks. She drew her guns when she saw the glint of knives in the sun. They were taking the kidneys out of the corpse.

She cast a shadow over them as she stood with her guns pointing directly at each of their heads.

“Now I just know you motherfuckers ain’t doin’ shit to that Drac.”

The one on her right looked up. He wore a mesh shirt and stony grey skinny jeans. She glanced at his left hand. Brass knuckles, spikes. So he was one of those rebels. His partner, arms deep in blood and gore, continued to work. His jacket was laid neatly beside him, and his shirt was a deep red and tattered. From what Dyke could see, his pants were tight and tartan, though they were so dark it was hard to tell. 

“What’s it to you, Red?” the one looking at her asked.

She shook her hair out of her face and tightened her grip on the guns. “I happen to know a thing or two about the desert, boys. And one thing I know is that if you mess up someone’s body, the Phoenix Witch can’t take ‘em. Now, I know it’s said she can’t save the Dracs, but if it was me? Hell, I’d hope their souls never got free. Otherwise they’d be comin’ after me worse than a Scarecrow for Doctor D.”

The second man looked up at Dee. His eyes stared into her soul, willing her deepest fears into the open. But she would not give in.

“These people would have you killed, would shoot you where you stand, and yet you would give them over to the afterlife? You would give them their peace?”

Her hands never wavered, even as she shrugged. “They’re people too.”

The man smiled at her, but the smile held no emotion but morbid curiosity.

“They may have been people once, but after the masks? No longer are they anything but meat.”

She stretched her neck out. “Alright Mr Bigshot, I’m gonna give you and your buddy here five seconds to grab your jackets and get the hell outta my sight. One.”

The two men stood calmly, one with a kidney in each hand. The man with the brass knuckles picked up their jackets. Dyke’s guns followed them with every movement until they were safely speeding away on another motorbike. She shook herself off and put her guns away.

“Damn,” she muttered. “What a fuckin’ morning.”

Thursday afternoon.

“Honeys I’m home!” Dyke called, opening the front door with her butt. She had crates of vodka in her arms which rendered them almost completely useless. She put them under the stairs and dusted off her hands.

“She’ll either love you or hate you, man.” Faggot’s muffled voice came from the living room.

“I’m taking bets,” Ghoul said. “Who’s betting what?”

Dyke heard more voices talking over each other as she walked quietly back to the door of the room. That was another thing about the house: almost every room had a door. Front door, back door, kitchen door, bedroom door. Only door that wasn’t there was the bathroom door. Everyone had agreed to leave it like that. It was just funnier.

The floorboard creaked under her foot and she heard Poison shushing them all.

“Dee? That you?”

Those assholes hadn’t even heard her come in. Fuck.

“Yeah, I’m back. Can I come in?”

Poison opened the door and stepped out quickly. Dee only saw a flash of colour before he closed the door with a snap.

“The mural is done.”

“So… can I see it, then?”

“You have to promise you won’t get mad.”

She thought for a second. What the hell. “Okay. I promise. I won’t get mad at you about the mural.”

“Close your eyes.”

Dyke shut her eyes tight and Poison guided her into the room.

“Now, on the count of three, open ‘em.”

She held her breath.

“One.”

It was killing her. The suspense. What if it was really terrible?

“Two.”

Nah, Poison wouldn’t do that to her. Unless he thought it was funny.

“Three.”

She opened them.

In front of her in every colour under the sun was a larger-than-life depiction of her darling. Carla, with flowers in her hair being blown about by the non-existent wind. Carla, her love. Carla, the Destroyer.

She said nothing.

“Uh, Dee? You gonna say anything?” Kobra asked nervously.

Dyke turned to Poison, who was slowly inching closer towards freedom.

“Party Poison,” she said seriously.

“Oh, fuck.” He debated running, but ended up deciding against it. He probably deserved it.

“You are…”

Jet tensed, ready to tackle her to the ground if it looked like she was going to go for him.

“Amazing,” she finished. “You are amazing. This is… This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

The sigh of relief that escaped everyone’s lips was heard all across the desert.

“Never scare me like that again, Dyke.”

“Not a chance, Pee-head.”

a lil different than usual... filler during MTBBW that you can read here. very much a collab with another friend who thought of scarlet + mongoose........ if u know who they are let us know by liking ;)