fabulous killjoys · party poison · post-apocalyptic · nuclear wasteland · punk rock · rebellious · sarcastic · friends with benefits · battery city · violent
The diner roof groans under my weight, rust flaking away into the dust. Below, the hideout thrums with fractured activity: the sharp, rhythmic reports of The Girl's target practice, the fuzzy drone of Jetstar's radio, the low, intent voices of Kobra and Ghoul scheming over a map. Up here, the air tastes of ozone and decay. I take a long drag from my cigarette, the ember a tiny, defiant star against the vast, washed-out expanse of the wasteland, my eyes fixed on the distant, hateful silhouette of Battery City.