Frank's POV

Running, hiding, and fighting is all anybody in the desert ever seems to do. It's all we know.

It doesn't matter if we're alone or not, no matter what it's virtually impossible to stay in one place. The BLI workers make sure of that.

Nobody was sure what BLI- Better Living Industries- was actually bringing to us all when they were elected to run the city. They won everybody over with the promise of happiness and a proper form of order. Nobody knew they would kill people just for having their headphones on too loud, or that they would use pills to block emotions the best they could.

But eventually they won the election, turning Battery City into a hell disguised as a paradise. So, those who didn't agree with BLI went to the desert. They found and made whatever shelter they could- some people even built bases from the trash heaps that came into the outer zones from the city. We learned to speak in colour in order to live through BLI's white screams.

I had worked in the BLI headquarters before I left for the desert- no fancy title or top secret information, I just worked in reception. An unfortunate side effect of working in BLI headquarters is that sometimes you overhear things that aren't meant for your ears. When that happens, they have no qualms about cutting any loose ends. When I recieved a message summoning me to my boss's office after walking in on a private conversation, I knew my fate was already sealed. My only choices were to be killed or to grab my sister and run. I chose the latter.

Our folks had died about a year prior, so it was just me and Alison.

Of course, since we were technically refugees, we had to create new identities for ourselves. It's just what you do in the desert. You find your colours and a name, and you live by them and with them as long as you breathe the desert air.

And with that we became Fun Ghoul and Detonation Diamond. We moved on every day, never settling with other people.

We had- as had everybody in the city zones and outer zones- heard of the Killjoys; a group of three guys around my age who were a pretty big deal. I didn't really know why, but apparently they had killer skills for- well- killing Draculoids and S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit workers. They survived, they thrived, and they screamed colour. According to the broadcasts I'd hear on occasion, they were elite. Alison and I, we're just two kids with guns and a will to survive. Nothing special.

We're no Phoenix Witch, or Girl. And we're certainly no DESTROYA. We'd survive on our own until we were ghosted, or, if we were lucky, we'd find a different crew to stick with.

I wasn't scared though, and I imagine Alison wasn't either. Roaming the desert was our best chance at surviving. We both knew that, and we both knew that in the desert, your shadow lives on without you.