killjoypoet♥ signing on…
All is dark, roaming the zones are the “fly” cameras. Citizens are forbidden in Battery City to squish these BL/ind, or “Better Living Industries” surveillance creatures of the sky. They watch everything and anything, but people are to be put through the “Thought Adjustment” treatment day-in and day-out. “Take your medicine…Be happy…Optimism is important in daily lives…Be fortunate you’re alive…” The monotone monitor chimes again with its misleading phrases of hope and prosperity for the world and the humans inhabiting it. The zones of Battery City are desolate, not a soul to be found except for the few rebels of the BL/ind system: The Killjoys.
Through the scanner the ground is dry for miles, no sign of life, and almost resembles a desert in the distance. The dust would pick up and drag away what plants had tried to copulate their seed. As always, no one stayed long in Battery City. Each day the television would come on: Fact News, “THE ONLY NEWS!” They are continuously coming out with the greatest of technology, whether it’s the miracle pill, halo phone, or laser scissors. Those commercials constantly got old. If a person wasn’t brain-washed by all the crap and fake therapy filtered in, there were only two options: become a Drac, or die by the BL/ind Corporation. Too many Killjoys watched their loved ones become a part of the system, or transform toward the monstrosity of the blood sucking night crawlers.
The world of 2019 has disintegrated into a mess of liars, fighters, and cut throat killers. Now, the Killjoys have risen up out of the ashes of the corruption that engulfs their world and are ready to battle against BL/ind, along with the Dracs at any brunt force. They attempt the impossible task of taking back a world that was once ruled by the just and honorable, but stare into the faces of pure evil. Only armed with guns and ammo, these sinners become saviors in a time where all might be lost.
“Hey Korse! Where are these pathetic so called ‘Killjoys’?” “Right in here boss!” The gargantuan, burly sized man walks through the white tiled, white-walled room and opens a steel door with no window. The door number was 1313 and inside was the five sinners to save the world: Razorblade Rosa, Dominyk Apocalypt, Neco Luna, Ember Immortal, and Phantom Bullet. “When and where did you pick all this scum up?” Korse asked his apprentice. “These are the kids from yesterday.”