There's more dracs than i expected there to be. Just from where i am standing as i watch the fight, i can count at least fifteen of them, all descending on the four killjoys like hunting dogs to rabbits. However the four are giving back all they've got, already having taken down at least five of the dracs. I can see a bright red mop of hair on one of them, who is fighting three dracs at once.

I leave my bike a safe distance away, not wanting anyone to spot it and try to steal it whilst my back is turned. By this point i've pulled my ray gun out of my boot and am running over the sandy dune, stopping at the top so i can get a clear view of the fight.

All the killjoys have their work cut out, but the redhead is especially outnumbered, the dracs just seem to keep heading for him. By this point i'm assuming he's Party Poison, simply because he's always been renown for good aim and as i watch him shoot two dracs will one shot, it's easy to make an educated guess.

"Ghoul - behind you!' he yells, making one of the other killjoys jump and turn around just in time to stop an advancing drac. Ghoul - or as i've heard him described before as Fun Ghoul - doesn't seem at all fazed by his close encounter, and keeps spinning and shooting.

However Party's too busy looking at where the other killjoys are to see the drac that comes up behind him. He's successfully knocked from his feet by a kick to the knees, rolling over in the sand to face the drac that is now aiming a gun at his face.

Something within me snaps, jolting me back into the realisation that i'm not here to watch the fight - i'm here to help them. I can't stand by and watch one of the leaders of the killjoys get blasted in the head, no matter weather i'm part of their ranks or not.

In a flash my ray gun in off safety - i don't even have to look down the barrel of the gun to get a clear aim on the drac's back. In one fluid motion i've shot him, his limp body falling to the ground and temporarily crushing Party Poison. He soon pushes the body away though, picking up his gun in the process. It's then that he looks up and spots me standing on the top on the sand bank, my hair billowing over my shoulders as i stare right back.

His eyes are hidden behind a yellow mask, but i still clearly see his jaw slacken in surprise.

"Party!" A killjoy with blonde hair yells. Party immediately spins around and shoots one of the last dracs standing, leaving his friends to take care of the rest. But by the time he's turned back around to look at me, i'm already running back in the opposite direction. The dune hides me from his view, but i can still hear him call out, probably trying to follow me.

By this point i've reached my bike, figuring there's no point in staying around. I'll just get thanked and asked to join the killjoy's ranks. And when i refuse they'll want to know why. There's no way i want to go into my past.

this is why i don't help out i think to myself. I just get involved and end up with someone thinking they're in my debt, when actually i just want to be left alone. I don't regret it though - Party looked like he was a good force to have against BL/ind, so if i had let him die then i would only be contributing to the losing battle against Korse.

There's definite footsteps coming over the dune now, but by this point i've already kicked the ignition into start, revved the engine and started to speed back the way i came. I know they won't catch up with me - i'm already halfway down the highway and unlike them, i know where i'm heading.

I've already decided in a split second where I'll go. It's not the most exciting of places, but I'll head to the bar. I know that the fabulous four will be a mere mile behind me, and I'm not feeling like socialising. So I pull up outside the place I could almost call work.

 I put in the odd shift ever other day or two at the social hotspot, earning enough to tide me over. For every drink I sell I earn 25% of the profit, which keeps the carbons in my pocket in stock and my stomach full, even if it's only with the disgusting canned food. I enjoy working though - i know my way around the cocktail menu and i get to listen to all the news without having to just awkwardly stand around, trying not to engage in conversation with other people. 

A faint smile graces my features when i pull up around the back of the place. It's nowhere near as good looking from the back, that much is obvious. Even the front isn't exactly eye-catching. It's a building that's reasonably in shape, but pretty small from where anyone from the road would be viewing it. The main part is underground, where no dracs would possibly think to look. That's why the outside has nothing but a small yellow sign labelled 'The Battery' in decoration. It's name is a pun on battery city, suggesting that the killjoys had their own alternative, and a much better one at that. 

I pocket the keys to my motorbike and slip into the back entrance, being greeted with the familiar spiral staircase that lead down to the small world the killjoys had created. The owner, Crash, has often tried to strike up a friendship with me. However when he never got anywhere he simply settled on giving me a job instead, hoping it would win me around. I'm grateful, but his plan hasn't exactly worked.

"Hey Spark" He hollers from the bar as soon as he spots my boots stamping loudly down the thin metal stairs, each one echoing around the place as i do so. "You're early for once." 

"Meh" I make my way over to him, eyes briefly flittering around the familiar surroundings. It's a big place - with the bar, the dance floor, the stage and the various doors leading off to toilets or even spare rooms that Crash could rent out to passing killjoys for the night. It's the centre of the run down, rebellious community. "I was passing, and there wasn't exactly much time to do anything else before you opened up for the night." 

"Well can you start cleaning glasses? I'm running behind" he nods to where the various utensils are all lined up along the side. I roll my eyes and jump over the counter in one swift movement, my boots landed with a thump over the other side. As soon as i get behind the bar i feel more at home, and quickly get to work. 

Crash tries to engage in conversation a few times, but he can see from my various shrugs and one word answers, often laced with sarcasm, that i'm behind my usual anti-social self. He never stops trying though. 

He just sighs at me from under his mop of black hair, making him appear younger. Part of me wonders how old he actually is, but then none of the killjoys actually keep track of their age. I know i was a teenager when BL/ind took over and i had to run for my life, but now my age is just an unnecessary number. 

"Spark?" Crash snaps me back into the present and away from my mindless thoughts. 

"hmm?" 

"I was just talking to you" he chuckles. "Anyway, i was saying that i'm going to go open up so can you make sure you give all the alcohol bottles a top up? Last night was real busy and i think we're running a little low." 

"Sure" I give a small smile in his direction and start to reach around, pulling out various bottles of alcohol that has been smuggled from Battery city or in some cases brewed by a few killjoys who had actually managed to finish education before BL/ind took over. 

"Are you alright?" He asks just as he reaches the steps. "I know you're not the most talkative of people, but you keep staring off into space today." 

"Oh i'm fine" I curse myself for daydreaming about earlier. I guess i don't normally help other people, so the feeling was pretty alien to me. It was slowly reminding me of the past though, back when i found fight with other people, the memories painful - like a constant dig in the stomach for me to think about. That's why i try and block out the thoughts, instead sending Crash a reassuring smile. 

"I'm fine" I say, picking up a bottle of something a similar shade of blue to my hair. "I'm probably just tired. I woke up early this morning." Technically it wasn't a lie - i had woken up early. What i didn't mention to Crash was that i had woken up at the same time i did everyday, just before sunrise, and i was in fact not tired at all. Sleep was not something i constantly needed. A few hours a night were enough to keep me going. 

"Okay" he disappears after that to open up. Normally the bar's open all day, but once a week he takes the day off to clean the place and stock up on supplies. Sure enough, as i go into the back room i spot a few new stacks of crates, filled with drinks and food to keep the place afloat for the next week. I waste no time i stocking up the bar, and by the time i've finished there's already a few people at the bar, waiting to be served. 

I don't talk much when i serve people their drinks, but then i don't particularly need to. I just take their order, flash them a smile, and proceed to mix up their chosen cocktail or drink. I'm quick at the skill, easily throwing together drink after drink without properly paying attention. It's why Crash put's up with my sulky moods and lack of effort to become close to anyone. The bar's never too crowded when i'm working, as i always manage to keep the place in control. 

 Plus, me being pretty cold with everyone means most of the guys know exactly where they stand (without a chance in hell) so i don't tend to get any aggro. Not that i would have problem if i did, seeing as i always kept my gun close. It's not as if Crash would blame me either, in fact he'd probably help me shift the body. Especially if he thought it would get him into my good books, or even let us become friends. 

After the initial rush, which lasts for a good hour or so, i finally manage to catch a break. As i lean back on the counter, flicking my hair out of my eyes, i take in the bar before me. People are dancing to a face-paced rock song, whilst others stand around drinking. All their clothes are bright colours in every shade you could think of, including their hair. 

However none of those shades compare exactly to the shock of red hair belonging to one of the next killjoys to descend down the stairs, the three guys behind him all adjusting their clothes as they walk.  It only takes me one glance to recognise them, and another for my stomach to sink ever so slightly with every step they take nearer to me. 

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