There’s an apartment building on the 3rd block sector that no Draculoid will enter. It’s said that their masks don’t work there and it’s a haven for those wanting to escape. People move in all the time but the building is always empty.
Some say that if your headphones become damaged due to age or injury that you’ll hear a broadcast in a language that doesn’t make sense; it doesn’t sound like any company approved language taught to the masses. Sometimes people say they can understand what’s being said. Those that do stop talking and appear more living ghosts then anything else.
Elizabeth’s Diner on the 5th block sector is always a hot spot for exterminators and enforcers who are off duty and want to enjoy a nice meal. If you go around to the back door, without being caught, and knock three times a small slot will open. Tell whoever is inside that you ‘need reeducation’ and wait exactly three minutes. Sometimes you’ll be slid a still warm bagel from the oven and other times you’ll get a single mitten. No one knows why; if you ask the owners they’ll tell you there isn’t a back door. Sometimes they’ll prove it.
There’s an elevator in the BL/Ind headquarters that’s perpetually out of order; yet everyone still uses it. Occasionally those who ride it disappear. Draculoids who go up sometimes vanish and leave only their masks behind. No one talks about it.
It’s said that if you manage to gain access to Korse’s private room that you’ll find a small music box on his dresser. Opening it causes a strange disjointed melody to play throughout the room. Those that hear it tend to find themselves outside the city without any recollection as to how they got there or why. Sometimes they’re missing limbs or articles of clothing.
A Juvie Hall by the name of Ripper claims to have found a way to become invisible to all of BL/Ind’s cameras and security equipment. He promises to share it if anyone has the right currency. Those that pay before receiving it tend to wind up throw into the cemetery ditches; those that wait tend to just disappear.
It’s said that if you toss a piece of actual metal currency into the cemetery ditch near the crematorium that you’ll be granted one wish. Those that wish upon the dead find themselves afraid to turn around; swearing that there’s a small girl there waiting for them. That she promises to do whatever they ask granted they never see her face. Do not wish upon the dead.
Found in BL/ind archives, shows footage of 20-year-old Gerard Way, who would later turn into the infamous rebel leader known as Party Poison, interrogated after being taken into custody by S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W operatives for refusing to wear his BLI headphones at the appropriate times and levels. Way claimed that the daily broadcasts were “unnatural” as he continued to show disinterest and even laugh through the interrogation. Many experts say this is the event that sparked the rebellion that would make it’s mark on Battery City history.
Here’s BL/ind’s form for filing us Killjoys away. If you wanna look cool, go ahead and copy n past this fucker into a document of your own, fill ‘er out, and file>publish to the web to get a shareable link. Slap that fucker all over kingdom come.
Battery City is the only major city known. What if it’s the only one? What if there’s no one else in the world? What if there’s nothing else than Battery City and the zones?
If we’re the only ones remaining?
If we’re alone?
Head cannon that Blurryface takes place in the same universe as Danger Days
Tyler and Josh have a
picture of them as Mad Gear and Missile Kid. For those who don’t know, Mad
Gear and Missile Kid is a band in the Danger Days universe.
basically what the Killjoys are listening to in the car as they’re having those
gun battles” –Frank Iero
If this is the case,
the songs on Blurryface make more sense
“Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol’
When our momma sang us to sleep but now
we’re stressed out.”
This line could suggest that Mad Gear (Tyler’s
character) misses the old days before the Helium Wars. Before he became
“stressed out” due to being on the run from BL/ind.
Yo, this song
will never be on the radio
Even if my clique were to pick and the people were to vote
It’s the few, the proud, and the emotional
Yo, you, bulletproof in black like a funeral
The world around us is burning but we’re so cold
It’s the few, the proud, and the emotional
This song represents most of the (canon) groups.
The Few = Killjoys
The Proud = BL/ind
The Emotional = Characters that have lost
families/family members due to the Helium wars.
believe what’s on TV,
because it’s what we want to see,
and what we want, we know we can’t believe,
we have all learned to kill our dreams.
This one is more self explanatory. The futuristic “Utopia”
created by BL/ind is supposed to be just that. Utopia. Every thing has to be “Perfect”
even if it’s not real. The last line also references the struggles Killjoys go
through with the constant battle against BL/ind. They couldn’t go through with
their dreams so they had to kill them.
A loser hides
behind a mask of my disguise,
And who I am today is worse than other times,
You don’t know what I’ve done, I’m wanted and on the run.
I’m wanted and on the run.
So I’m taking this moment to live in the future
This one is directly to the Killjoys. They
are inspired by Mad Gear and missile Kid to fight back. They hide behind a mask
of his (Mad Gear’s) disguise. At this point in time, Mad Gear is taken by
BL/ind and he is “Worse than other times”. He is also “Wanted and on the run”.
I’m a goner,
somebody catch my breath,
I’m a goner, somebody catch my breath,
I want to be known by you,
I want to be known by you.
Though I’m weak
and beaten down,
I’ll slip away into this sound,
The ghost of you is close to me,
I’m inside-out, you’re underneath.
After Mad Gear and Missile
Kid are defeated/on the verge of death, this is what they are. Goners. They
want to be known by YOU. The listener. The Killjoys are the listeners in their
timeline. Both MG and MK are “weak and beaten down”. It would make sense that
this is the song that closes of the Blurryface album.
My final point is the fact that Tyler’s character of
Blurryface appears as Mad Gear (Black paint around neck and hand). Implying
that they have relevance to each other.
Somewhere out in the zones, if you know where to find them, there are still a bunch of old DVD/VHR players that Bl/ind couldn’t get to. Sometimes there are actual, working DVDs and VHRs out there too: occasionally, a group of Killjoys will pick them up, figure them out and have movie marathons together (who cares if no one could find the fifth Harry Potter film - it’s still awesome).
Sometimes the killjoys can also find projectors. Flyers will be set up across the zones and radio DJs will send out encoded invitations, and pretty soon anyone who’s anyone will be on their way to the zones’ first Star Wars showing.
So one headcanon (that I still have) is that if BL/Ind ever got party long enough to erase their memories of the desert + the rest of the four, they would make Party in charge of a children’s show like sesame street.
Why would they do this? 1) to show off the fact they have Party 2) to slowly break the others as Party informs kids about the “horrible killjoys” that live in the desert 3) to brainwash kids for a young age
Gee and Lola would teach kids: -how to take medicine -the dangers of the desert -how to act in public -etc
It would also create the idea that music is a children’s thing and once you are older no longer acceptable.
Bonus Gee’s fun time band:
Gee said the designs came to them in a dream but they feel like they’ve seen these characters before…
i decided to start on this tonight because i had an idea. so, here. the killjoy au, part one
mad gear is tyler
missile kid is josh
You lay on the dirt crusted mattress in the back of the van. That’s where this story starts, not in a battle to the death with the bad guy, not with the cuddling of a couple in a clean bed with satin sheets. You remember those days, when the world was almost better, and then BL/ind came to power. You are now stuck in the zones, fighting for your life. You have no time for romance, unfortunate for the two guys sitting in the front seat.
“Where d'ya think we are, Kid?” Mad Gear asks from the front. You can almost hear Missile Kid shrug, telling his best friend all he knew was you were near Zone 3.
“Maybe we can stop soon, stretch our legs,” you suggest, crawling from the mattress to a seat in the back.
“Yeah, I can do with that, we’ll have to find a station soon, too,” Kid says. You nod your head, looking over the wheel to see the fuel gauge was dangerously close to E.
“There seems to be something coming up,” you point out, feeling slightly giddy at the sight of a building in this wasteland. It’s a small diner with an adjoining fuel pump. Kid shares the same excitement as you do. Gear seems hesitant but you need to get something in the engine, or you’ll be overrun by Dracs and not have a get away car. Van. Whatever.
“Ok, kids, we’ll stop here,” Gear sighs, “but only for a few. Worst case, we’ll stay over night.”
“Thanks, Gear,” you say, placing a hand on his shoulder. He smiles at you through the mirror and your heart almost melts.
No time for romance. Too busy fighting for freedom. Too busy surviving.
Gear stops the car a few hundred feet away from the diner, to be safe. You volunteer to make a round, Kid insists on going instead.
“I wouldn’t forgive myself if you went in and got dusted by a drac,” he says. You give him a reassuring smile.
“Don’t worry, Kid,” you reassure, “I’ve got a gun. I’ve got a knife. And my last words will be ‘Bitch!’ So if you hear me scream that, drive away.” Gear laughed at your joke. He wasn’t the same after BL/ind took over. As you had come to understand, he and Kid were in a band before it all happened. He barely swore, and he wrote songs about fighting his mental battles, now all he did was swear like a sailor and didn’t want anyone to remind him that he was even in a band.
“That’s not funny, Gear,” Kid sighs. He tries to convince you to stay again but you’re already out of the door. You walk around the building, and see a front door. On first glance, you can tell that it has been subject to wear and tear. You knock on it, hoping no one was ‘home.’ No one answers it, but you remain cautious, drawing your gun and opening the door slowly. The diner was completely empty, but there were signs of life, empty cans of power pup on a single booth and a radio in the corner. You look around once more, deciding there was nothing to salvage, and leave the building. You run toward the van and slide open the door.
“It’s got signs of life, but they’re not here,” you say, “we can fill up and sit for a while. They’re probably ‘rebels’ like us.”
“That doesn’t mean we should wait for ‘em,” Gear protests.
“Maybe it’ll help having more people on our side, Gear,” Kid says. The conversation ends on that statement, Gear pulls up to the fuel pump and gets out, obviously to pump the gasoline into the vehicle.
“He’s impossible,” you mutter under your breath.
“He’s just trying to protect us,” Kid replies, “We’re all he has now.” You jump at the sound of a loud knock on the side of the van. You open the door, allowing Kid and yourself to jump out of the opening. You see a Trans AM, almost completely intact, pulling up fast. The car isn’t even stopped when a red head jumps out of the passengers seat.
“What do we have here?” He asks, his hazel eyes digging deep into your own. His yellow mask hid most of his features and you noticed every guy out of the car had one on as well.
“Well,” you start, knowing your sarcastic and ‘bitchy’ tone would get you farther than Gears kindness and Kids anxious babbling, “you have three rebels on your doorstep getting gas from the only pump in this zone.”
“Who said you can take what’s ours?” The shortest one calls.
“I was under the impression that rebels help each other out,” you say. The red head cocks his head, almost asking you to keep talking.
“Why is a pretty thing like you out here in the zones?” Asked the one in the helmet, the words “Good Luck” scrawled over the viser.
“What’s it to you?” You snap. Gear places a hand on your shoulder and Kid almost hides behind you.
The man in the large space helmet shakes his head, or was he nodding? Either way, he began to speak, his voice more reasonable, “guys, the Young Bloods were there for us when we needed them, we could at least help out. It’s only logical.”
That starts a ruckus between the men and after a moment of bickering back and forth, the red head tears off his mask.
“Fine! Fine! We’ll help them! Jesus fuckin’ christ,” he snaps. You can’t help but notice how beautiful he is, his hair framed his face and his hazel eyes bringing his whole look together, “well, I guess we should at least get inside and introduce ourselves. Ghoul, check out their van.”
No time for romance. Too busy fighting for freedom. Too busy surviving.