Hello to all!

This is the promised sequel to Five Times Someone Saved Party Poison! We start off on another journey, my fellow Killjoys. Slow at first but keep your boots tight cause I promise you this will be wild ride XD

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ Five Times Someone Saved Party Poison, I would highly recommend that you check it out, especially the last two chapters, as they are key explanations to Na Na Na and SING and therefore important to this SING aftermath story.

As I've mentioned before, this begins the long adventure that I thought of to follow the events of SING.

This is also by no means a completely tragic and depressing story (even that makes up a large part of it) but a happy ending looms...perhaps :D

We're dealing with OC Killjoys for the beginning, and moving on from there!

Don't forget to feed a writer's soul by REVIEWING!


"What now Dr. Death Defying?"

Dr. Death glanced at Show Pony, and ducked his head, voice a whisper so as not awaken the young girl sleeping close by.

"We can't stay here forever Show Pony. Hyper Noise means well but this place is small. And she's a good Killjoy but she ain't exactly very patient with Missile Kid. I think it's time."

Show Pony played with the visor of his helmet.

"This will be our last call, right Dr. D?"

The pirate radio DJ nodded, "Last emergency call. We gotta round up all the Zone leaders and have ourselves a good ol' meeting to decide what to do about everything…You've been keeping Missile away from the TV right?"

Show Pony nodded vigorously, "I don't let her watch it. But she's getting curious Doc. Sooner or later she's going to see what those bastards are broadcasting."

Show Pony's hands balled in anger. He'd watched the transmission once, just to see it and to try to understand what had silenced Missile Kid.

He'd watched the crystal clear footage until Korse had slammed Party Poison against a wall, pressed his ray gun against the leader's throat and then he'd turned it off quickly, feeling sick.

Missile Kid did not need to see that. Not again.

Another thought struck him suddenly.

"Dr. D?"

"Yeah Show?"

"What are we going to do about BL/Ind.'s offer?"

Dr. Death tugged lightly at his beard, thinking hard.

"I don't know Show. That's the thing that's scaring me the most."

Tommy ChowMein was preparing to leave the communications room and go to sleep when he heard it.

The red light on the comm. board blinked insistently and he accepted the call quickly.

Dr. Death Defying's tragic news six days ago had been the last contact they'd had with anyone.

He expected another message.

Not the steady drumbeat that suddenly filled the small room.

He turned around at a sudden noise at the door, dropping his hand from his holster when he saw it was only DJ Hot Chimp.

The man was staring at the comm. unit.

"Turn it up Chow."

ChowMein did as he was told.

The signal was obviously weak; the sound kept cutting in and out.

But he managed to catch snippets of what he now realized was a song.

"Destroya, destroya, destroya…against the sun we're the enemy…"

DJ Hot Chimp's face spread into the first real smile ChowMein had seen for days.

"Get our gear packed on the bikes. We leave within the hour."

Tommy ChowMein just stared at the radio, dumbfounded.

Sequin Anarchy was sorting through the wrenches he'd spread out on the table when sudden sound filled the mechanic shop.

He shot a quizzical look to Disco Panic, who simply shrugged and went over to check the small radio they kept in a corner.

It was a steady drumbeat that grew louder and louder.

The sound fluctuated as the result of a weak signal, but the words that blasted through the speakers were unmistakable.

"…They don't believe in us, but I believe we're the enemy…"

He was about to run and get Crimson Sigh when he spotted the man across the room, grey eyes fixed on the radio.

A grin came over the Zone leader's face then, as he toyed with the yellow bandana wrapped around his right forearm.

"Get the car ready. We're making a trip."

Disco and Sequin shot each other a look.

"Where are we going?"

"To the meeting of course."


Electric Revenge quickly rose from her bed and looked at the hazy outline of the Killjoy in front of her.

After rubbing her eyes she finally recognized Rocket Revolver.

"There's something you need to hear. Another emergency call."

She was alert instantly, "What was the message?"

His brow furrowed. "I don't know. It's a…song…"

They walked quickly to the communication room.

"…You won't like where we'll go, brother protect me now, with blood they wash in the money…"

A grin spread over Electric Revenge's face as she tapped her fingers on her ray gun along with the beat.

Chemical Revolver glanced once at Techno Beat, who wore a matching smile.

"What does it mean?" He asked, frustrated at being left out.

"It means that Dr. Death is calling us for a meeting," She paused, gripping her katanas, "It's a call to arms."

"Do you think they're coming?"

Dr. Death looked out at the large room.

It had been used as a factory once. The heavy machinery was still there, gathering dust.

"Oh they're coming Show Pony. They must."

His gaze travelled to the large, circular table at the far end of the room.

It could seat sixteen Killjoys.

Four seats would remain empty.

He sighed and looked towards Missile Kid, who appeared to be having fun climbing on top of the abandoned equipment.

She'd still not spoken a single word.

"Still asleep I see."

"Well, sir. They are recovering. The first, second and third pods are scheduled to be opened in three days."

Korse nodded as he moved forward, gaze set on the cryogenic chamber, or 'pod' as it was termed, at the far end of the wall.

"What about this one?"

"We still estimate around a week…" The scientist trailed off, fidgeting with his white lab coat in fear.

"You were unable to remove all the red hair dye?"

"Yes sir. We can re-do the procedure again if you'd like, it's just that–"

"It's fine. Leave it," The Exterminator turned, a menacing smile on his face, "Now…Explain to me, in lavish detail, why exactly he can't be operational in the next few days…"

Missile Kid watched everything from above. She'd found a rafter, through rusted, that could support her weight and she'd climbed onto it, gazing down at what was occurring below.

Dr. Death Defying would surely scold her if he knew where she was but right now, she didn't care.

She was too busy staring at all the Killjoys that arrived. She'd never seen so many in one place, never had her eyes beheld so many colors.

The majority stood around the factory, in tight groups, remaining with those they'd arrived with.

A few offered terse and short greetings to others but mostly they remained quiet, watching the table in the center of the large room closely.

There were a select few, she noted, that moved to the table and took a seat.

She saw that they all wore a yellow bandana somewhere on their body and her hand tightened around the one on her wrist.



She finally understood what Party Poison had left her.

Dr. Death Defying rolled his wheelchair to the table and instantly the room fell silent.

He settled his eyes on those gathered around him, purposefully ignoring the empty seats.

The air in the room was tense and thick, as suffocating as the heat outside.

"Let's begin with a simple roll call."

He looked to his left.

"Zone 1, Emergency Exit."

An uncomfortable silence followed. The death of Tiger Triggerpull still fresh in all their minds.

"Zone 2, Motorbaby," The female Killjoy continued bravely.

"Zone 3, DJ Hot Chimp."

"Zone 4, Epsilon Entropy."

"Zone 5, Demolition Shot."

"Zone 6," Dr. Death paused, suddenly feeling winded, this isn't right, "Dr. Death Defying."

"Zone 7, Sugar Fiend."

"Zone 8, Quantum Kill."

"Zone 9, Blood Ballistics."

"Zone 10, Battery Burnout."

"Zone 11, Electric Revenge."

"Zone 12, Volume Virus."

"Zone 13, Crimson Sigh."

Their voices died away, and all the Zone leaders looked at each other, wondering who would be the first to speak.

Dr. Death Defying wasn't surprised when Blood Ballistics stood up.

He was surprised however, at the words that came out of the Killjoy's mouth.

"I'm taking BL/Ind.'s offer."

Tumultuous sound took over the silence that had reigned earlier, as voices both opposing and supportive became a sudden loud chorus.

The Zone leaders at the table sat stiffly, too shocked themselves to say anything.

Volume Virus was the next to stand, blue eyes fixed on Blood Ballistics.

"So am I."

The sound in the room reached a crescendo of noise and unrest began to grow in the crowd.

Dr. Death knew that he had to take back control now or risk a brawl breaking out.

"Enough!" He yelled, slamming his fist on the table.

The Killjoys in the room slowly became quiet again.

Dr. Death Defying rarely got angry and even if the man was in a wheelchair, he was still definitely a force to be reckoned with.

The pirate radio DJ looked at Blood Ballistics, "Are you sure you're making a wise decision, Ballistics?"

The male Killjoy drew himself up to his full height. "I am. The majority of the Killjoys in my zone agree with me."

That declaration was stunning and the noise level in the room again rose to a peak.

One Killjoy choosing to give in was one thing. But an entire Zone?

It was Blood Ballistics who quieted the room the second time, clapping both his hands against the table.

"There are a few who disagree with me," He sent a quick, pointed look at his second in command. DJ Houdini seemed to shrink under his gaze, "But the overwhelming majority stands with me."

Volume Virus nodded her head. "The same goes for my zone."

"And mine," Quantum Kill murmured, looking at his hands, "we see no point in continuing to fight the inevitable."

"The inevitable? Since when was our cause a lost one?"

Quantum Kill glared at Motorbaby. The Zone 8 leader had a nasty temper and he was in no mood for such a question, especially from the woman across from him, whom he'd never really gotten along with.

"You have no right to question the decisions of other Zone leaders. I don't question yours."

"You should question your own decisions," Motorbaby leaned forward, "You coward."

Quantum Kill was out of his seat in an instant, hand at his black ray gun.

"I wouldn't even attempt to get that if I were you."

Quantum turned to his right, quaking with barely repressed anger as he glowered at the Zone 7 leader. If there was anyone he disliked more than Motorbaby or the late Party Poison, it was her.

Sugar Fiend returned his gaze evenly and calmly, not withdrawing her raised weapon.

"Stay out of it Sugar," Quantum sneered, "This doesn't concern foreignerslike you. You might get hurt."

The response to his biting words was immediate. Before Dr. Death Defying could try to take control of the situation, the Zone 7 Killjoys surged forward, moving towards the table.

Wolf Bled Venom was the quickest, but the Zone 8 Killjoys were also advancing, ready to defend their leader. Being accused of cowardice was equivalent to being accused of betrayal.

To be called a coward was one of the most heinous insults against a Killjoy, and they would not stand idly by while their beloved leader's name was slandered.

Sugar Fiend, however, could handle herself perfectly and with one raised hand, she stopped her Killjoys. Still seething they moved back quietly, allowing the situation to diffuse, if only a fraction.

"Everything being discussed here, right now, concerns me Quantum. I don't care what you think of me."

Quantum Kill refused to relent, "You should have never been chosen as a Zone leader!"

"But I was. Every single Killjoy in my Zone voted to have me named. Which is something that can't be said about you."

Quantum snarled. "Party Poison was a fool to support you!"

Motorbaby had had it. She'd tried to stay out of it, had tried to let the two Zone leaders reach some sort of peace on their own.

But Quantum had dared to insult a man she and so many others respected with all their being…

"How dare you even speak his name?" She growled out, slamming her hands on the table, "How dare you? When you're standing there, ready to renounce everything he fought for?"

Quantum rounded on her, "Where is he now? Tell me! What did he die for?"

"He's right you know," Blood Ballistics said, softly. The two fighting Killjoys fell quiet, waiting for him to continue. The Zone 9 leader sighed heavily, and he nodded in the direction of the four empty seats.

"We are being offered amnesty. A chance to start again. They wouldn't have wanted us to die for nothing."

"You're right," A new voice spoke up, strong and calm. All eyes turned to Crimson Sigh, the leader of Zone 13. His grey eyes shifted from the table to stare straight into Ballistics', "You're right. They wouldn't have wanted us to die for nothing. But they'd have trusted that we would continue to believe in our cause, to believe that it meant something. Something beyond every single one of us, even them," Crimson let out a dark chuckle, "Every time we needed something, whether it was supplies or even just some advice on how to run things. We turned to them. We turned to him. And we were never turned away. Never," His voice became cold, ringing with truth, "Haven't they bled enough for your trust?"

Blood Ballistics was stunned by the question. He knew he couldn't answer it.

And though the passionate speech stirred the beginnings of doubt inside his chest, he knew he couldn't back down. Too much was at stake. Too many lives on his hands that he knew he could save if only he made the right choice.

And he'd never been surer about what exactly that choice was.

He reached to his holster slowly; deliberate in his movements to show that he was not a threat of any kind.

And he placed his red and white raygun on the table, sliding it to the middle, followed closely by the yellow bandana he'd once worn proudly around his wrist.

"I've made a choice."

The finality in his words was clear. He would not be swayed. Quantum Kill and Volume Virus copied his movements.

The sound of their rayguns scraping the table was hollow, much too loud in the now silent room.

Murmurs of defeat rose in the crowd, in several lips and within too many hearts. Because if Zone leaders, the fiercest and most cunning of them all, were choosing to give in…

Electric Revenge got to her feet, placing her hand on the hilt of the katanas strapped to her belt.

"You're doing what's right by you, and I will respect that," She looked around the room, "As we all should," The leader's voice dropped, "But if you ever take an active role against us, against the Killjoys…Don't think I will hesitate for one second to stop you."

Blood Ballistics nodded his head in a small, almost imperceptible bow.

"I understand."

And with those final words, he removed himself from the table and left.

He awoke suddenly, gasping for air that seemed hesitant to enter his throat.

His first thought was that it was cold. He could see his breath rise in front of him in a foggy mist, clouding against the glass already covered by condensation.

Panic filled his chest. He remembered nothing.

The memories danced at the edge of his consciousness. He grabbed for them, felt them slip away like water through his fingers and he pushed against whatever was holding him prisoner.

The glass gave way, opened against his pushing palms and he stepped out his enclosure, so unsteady on his legs he nearly toppled to the floor. In morbid fascination he stared at the object that he'd been lying in, spotting several more exactly the same white when he allowed his gaze to roam the room.

It was casualty that he felt the need to look down when he noticed how cold the white tile of the floor felt against his bare feet.

Casualty as his peripheral vision caught the strange markings on both of his hands. He stared at the inked designs the letters, shapes, colors. Quickly, he rolled up the white sleeves of his plain white shirt; uncovering more and more of what decorated his skin.

Vaguely, he was aware that he'd left something unfinished. The urge to protect something someone stirred in his chest, accompanied by an inexplicable feeling of loss.

The memories began to shift into place then, sliding against each other slowly, connecting until he finally realized where he was.

What he had to do.

The impossibility of the situation did not escape him but he pushed that aside as he moved to the two pods beside his own, trying to open the doors. Trying to free the men his brothers inside.

Alarms blared but he ignored them as well, fingernails scrapping against glass and plastic and metal, trying to find purchase.

The last thing that he became aware of, however, was a prickling sensation against his neck, as sets of unknown hands pulled him away.

There was a voice at his ear. Familiar oh so familiar, but cold and empty and hollow. Emotionless and devoid of the faded-but-still-there New Jersey accent.

"Time to go back to sleep, Frankie."

How's that for a first chapter?

NEXT UP: The continuation of the meeting of all the Killjoys and all the things that end well...and those that fail.