Chapter Text
Ghoul admired Kobra as a racer. Ze didnt admire him as a killjoy.
There were a lot of rumors about where Kobra came from, and he was mysterious and quiet enough that no one knew for sure. He had run with the Lorettas for a little bit, but not enough to really be called part of the crew. He’d never fit in with them. Too quiet.
Some people- not Ghoul, but some other killjoys- thought he might be an Agent. “More a pig than a snake”, that's what people said. More an agent than a killjoy. Even outside of the Lorettas he had run with a couple of crews, but only for a few days or maybe a week or so. And then he strayed, he strayed with his calculated movements and too-straight back and city-talk. Ghoul never understood the phrase “more a pig than a snake”. Kobra, in the few days Ghoul had now known him for, was very much like a snake. BLI spy scum, crouching in the sand, waiting to strike. Ghoul knew what it looked like. Maybe more so than anyone else in the Zones.
Kobra, meanwhile, avoided Ghoul like the plague.
He liked Jet and he liked Party. He liked the fact they cared about his well-being and didn't just see him as a tool or a drifter. He wanted to actually stay somewhere for once, and to not worry about whether he was going to sleep in sand dunes or at the Crashtrack again. Ghoul was a reminder he didn't belong here. The trio clearly had known each other a while. Kobra was an intruder, a foreign invasion in the diner.
And he acted so much like everyone Ghoul had tried to leave in the city.
It was easy enough to ignore each other, though. Ghoul spent most of his time at the diner and Kobra spent most time on his bike or at the Crashtrack. But he came back every night, and slept in his little room on the twin-sized mattress. And for the first time, he allowed the place he was staying to feel like home.
He woke up near-screaming.
It had been a nightmare. He didn't get them often anymore, but it was always like this. Being in the passenger seat as a drac hits them head-on, Jack drags him out and tries to run, carrying Kobra. But he doesn't get far, and Kobra tells him to run, and Jack does, because it's what he’s good at. And the dracs hold Kobra, taking him back into the white streets of Battery City, into a white room, feeding him white pills, trapped to a white chair. And in the nightmare, he thinks he’ll be stuck there forever.
But he's not, thank whatever is out there. He’s in the little yellow room of the little teal diner, still wrapped in his red jacket. He could smell someone smoking, and he followed it.
Fun Ghoul was sitting on the side of the building, next to the abandoned ice box. His legs were straight out, and they were lighting up another cigarette already. The only light came from the Ghoul’s lighter and the distant, warm glow of the Diner’s sign. Ghoul looked over, and patted a seat next to them for Kobra to sit down.
Kobra obliged, and the two just waited like that for a few minutes, Kobra sitting tense and cross-legged before Ghoul sighed. “Listen….I just want to say that I’m sorry.” He stated, and it felt so genuine to Kobra. In the little time he’d gotten to know the fellow killjoy, he hadn’t seemed like someone who apologized much for any reason. Ghoul rustled for a minute before offering a cigarette. Kobra- face still wet with drying tears- smiled but shook his head.
“Thanks, but I don’t smoke.”
Ghoul snorted. “Little Ian Mackaye we have here, huh?” They chuckled before smoking the cig themself. Kobra was sure the name meant something to someone, but he’d never heard it. Ghoul caught up to this. “Old rockstar, though he’d probably hate the title. Made straight edge, no drinking, no smoking, no drugs, no sex thing?” He clarified, and Kobra clicked his tongue. “Whole thing sounds miserable, if you ask me.” Ghoul continued.
Kobra leaned his head against the side of the diner, taking it in for a minute. The city had been so quiet. Not even the sound of wind blowing, no sounds of rain or storms, even if they hit. With the Lorettas, it had been constant noise. Yelling, talking, eating, laughing, dancing, music- and it was fine. Kobra wasn't averse to sound, but it had been non-stop, and it was jarring to be exposed to so much so often after a lifetime of impeccable silence. Out here, right now, was a good blend. Warm wings blowing through his hair, cicadas buzzing, low hum from the diner’s light. He looked back over at Fun Ghoul, jet black hair, pale skin, button nose. He couldn't be that much older than Kobra, could he? He still had so much baby fat and little pimples on his shoulders and face. They were short, too, but he imagined ze would still be like that even once they got older. “Im sorry too. About bothering you out here.” Kobra whispered, a little surprised at his own voice. It was still slightly hoarse.
Ghoul just shrugged. “‘T’s alright. You’re not being super loud at least. And I’m guessing from the red eyes you had a nightmare?” Kobra nodded sheepishly. “It’s no big deal. Most cityborn get them. That’s why I’m up too, actually.”
“You’re from the city? No way.” Kobra chuckled. Ghoul just smirked.
“Battery City, born and raised. Party is, too. Jet’s the only sand pup here. Thank the Witch for it, his mom still lives out a commune in Zone 5. She’s real nice.” And Kobra’s eyes widened a bit, because the idea someone out here still had family they were close to was absurd-sounding. But he wanted to believe in it. Ghoul took another drag. Was this his third or fourth cigarette since Kobra sat down? They’d both lost track. “Listen, I’ll let you in on a secret. It's not really a secret, since Jet and Party know, but you seem like you’re sticking around with us for real so-” Ghoul adjusted himself anxiously. “I used to be a drac. They picked me up when I was a kid, put a mask on me, y'know. I was a little hard on you because you just reminded me of all that.”
Kobra swallowed, taking a minute to take it all in before looking down sheepishly. “I get that a lot. I’m not an agent though, I promise. It’s just….everything out here is so difficult to adjust to. I feel like I'm putting on a performance every time I try to act like other people.”
Ghoul nodded, and then shrugged. “You don't have to. Around us. Plus, people can say what they want but, I never suspected you were an age limit. Anyone can be a drac, but agents take time, and training, and spies have to actually blend in. And, uh, no offense to you, but if people suspect you of working for BLI based on how you act, that means you don't." Kobra smiled, taking one last look at Fun Ghoul.
“Thanks. I needed that, I think. I’m gonna head back to bed, though. You try to rest up too, okay?” He said, patting Ghoul’s shoulder and standing up, joints cracking. Once back in his room, he fell asleep fast, not dreaming.
✩✩✩✩
The next day started slowly, thankfully. Jet had found food, and the four ate together before Jet and Party headed out to go to a swap meet. That had left Kobra and Ghoul together again, and after several hours of attempting to play baseball with no bat, making “dust angels”, and Kobra giving them a Black Flag tattoo after seeing Ghoul’s previous sloppy attempts at other tattoos on himself, the two of them had become bored out of their minds. When Jet and Party returned, Jet with food and radio parts, and Party with the clunkiest pair of clip-on earrings Kobra could imagine, it left them to go wherever the two wanted in the zones unsupervised by the older duo.
Which left them in the Diner’s parking lot, debating the best plan.
“We could bother Tommy Chow Mein.” Ghoul suggested, and Kobra sighed.
“We could, but I’m banned.”
Ghoul’s eyes went wide from the passenger seat. “You? You got banned?”
“Yes. Me. I got banned. It's not that difficult.”
“Alright, alright. We could visit Dr. D. Force him to MC5 again. Also, Cherri owes me money, and I need to harass him about it.”
Kobra looked over. “Cherri?”
“Yeah! Cherri Cola! You guys haven't met?”
Kobra shrugged. “I’ve met Show Pony and Hot Chimp. No Cherri, though.”
Ghoul grinned. “We have to go then! By the Witch you’re gonna hate this guy.” And Kobra exhaled, realizing Ghoul’s mind was set.
“Alright. Let's go to the diner.” And he started the car, making their way down Route Guano as Ghoul sang off-key to every song that was on.
Once they got there, Ghoul led him around back, to find a guy- not much older then them, by the looks of him- laying on a sunchair, shirt off, wearing nothing but jeans and dogtags. But his skin- his skin was sunburnt completely, bright red all over, some parts partially peeling. His auburn hair was largely buzzed, and he looked like he was in the afterlife, completely relaxed and not noticing as they moved closer.
“Heya, Cherri.” Ghoul grinned, standing over the boy and blocking his view of the sun.
Cherri peaked an eye open, glancing up at Ghoul- then staring straight at Kobra. “Frankie. You’re blocking my view.”
“Someone needs to pay me back.”
“I don't got it.”
“You said that last time.”
Cherri huffed. “And I didn't have it last time. Get out of my way, Frankie.”
Ghoul stared up at the sky, then back down. “I thought D said you shouldn't be out here.”
“And Dr. D isn't my dad, and he was just upset because people could see me when they drove past the station. No one can see me back here.”
Ghoul was right. Kobra hated this guy. But he pitied him, too. The guy was clearly a wavehead, or at least, that's what Kobra remembered the term to be. Plus, he couldn't have been much older, and for as much as he’d been though, Kobra got the feeling this guy’s life had been worse. He drifted off to the station, intent on leaving Ghoul and Cherri to argue.
Pony greeted him when he got in, asking a million questions on how things were with the new crew. By the time they finished, the sun had begun to set, and Ghoul had finally come back in, still out of luck with their fiances. The two said their goodbyes, and headed back out.
“Why did Cherri call you Frankie?” He asked once they were in the car. Ghoul turned the radio down.
“Its because he says I look like Frankenstein’s Monster. So, just Frankie. You hang out around him, he’ll find some name for you.”
“Is that what he does all day? Sunbathe?” Ghoul nodded.
“Pretty much. He's addicted to it. He used to be a killjoy, the story is that back when he was still a puppy, his entire gang got killed. I don't really know. It's probably rude to ask. Show Pony took him in, but that's all he’s done since I met him. That and drink soda. And complain.”
Kobra nodded. He was right. Cherri was pitiful.
The drive back to the diner was slower, but the duo was met with dinner- real food tonight- and gossipping from Party. A couple hours later, and Kobra was back in bed.
That night, he slept uninterrupted, and he didn't dream at all.