Chapter Text
The day started out normal for Kobra.
He and Ghoul had woken up early, long before the desert sun had even risen, and now they were on a simple supply run. It was just the basics: food, water, maybe a new jacket for Party- because he’d ripped his old one pretty badly a while back- and some battery packs for their guns.
All in all, a simple run.
Party, as always, was hesitant to let him and Ghoul go out on their own.
It makes sense really, with Kobra being his younger brother and all. Party has always been protective of him, sometimes to a fault.
As for Ghoul, well he and Party aren’t officially dating but they sure act like they are. Stolen kisses and soft looks are common and Kobra has a suspicion that they’ve already told each other their names.
That’s a big deal, something he isn’t sure he fully supports, but he does trust his brother’s judgement. And he doesn’t know for certain that they’ve shared their names; his brother always seems to change the topic whenever he asks. When he tried to confront Ghoul, he’d just blushed horribly and ran off.
The couple’s reaction was dumb, considering Party had literally saved Ghoul’s life last year. Ghoul had nearly died, something Kobra doesn’t think he’ll ever forget, but now he’s content with wasting time with admitting his feelings.
Sometimes when Ghoul takes his shirt off- the desert heat getting rid of any modesty that they have- Kobra finds himself staring. Not in an attracted sort of way, Ghoul is so not his type, but more in the morbid fascination sort of way.
He still has scars left over from his near death experience. There are five of them in total, Kobra knows because he’d been the one to help Party sew him back up. Five bullet wounds; his chest, stomach, and hip holding one bullet each. There’d been two in his shoulder.
Ghoul was a lucky bastard to say the least and yet he’s still content with dancing around his and Party’s feelings. To Kobra, it’s obvious they both like each other but who is he to argue with their logic?
He’d never win anyway.
“Dude, I’m gonna fuckin’ melt,” Ghoul whines childishly from the passenger seat.
Kobra doesn’t look at him, eyes kept firmly on the road, but he does smile a little at his friend. “Stop bitchin’.”
Ghoul groans and sinks a little in his seat with a few muffled curses. He’s acting like a child but Kobra has learned quickly not to humor him. It’s better to just ignore the attitude until he stops.
He cares about Ghoul, he really does, but sometimes tough love is the only option. Unless Kobra wants to listen to him complain about the heat for the rest of their trip home. Which he most certainly does not.
Besides, they have the windows down and the old Trans-AM’s roof is open as well. The wind that blows in their faces stings a little because of the heat and the sand mixed in, but it’s still refreshing.
Air conditioning had once been a feature in the car, a long time ago. However after years in the desert it was no longer a comfort they have the option of. Kobra kinda wishes they knew a real mechanic so they could get it fixed but, he also knows that trusting new people is a good way to get killed out here, more often than not.
“How much longer?” Ghoul asks, actually making a valiant effort in keeping his whining to a minimum.
Kobra shrugs. It’s maybe another half hour before they get home, depending on whether or not they make it through the final stretch without any incident.
This run has been… uncharacteristically easy.
They’d found a running convenience store out by the edges of Zone 3, complete with gas pumps and everything, and had stocked up pretty well. The prices were high, 50 for a fucking pack of granola bars, but it was their only option unless they wanted a fight or to steal.
Despite feeling a bit cheated by the prices, Kobra’s in a good mood. Their trunk is currently packed full of supplies, enough to last the three of them well over a month.
They hadn’t managed to find a jacket for his brother but that wasn’t a priority, just something that he’d like to have. Party probably won’t mind too much, seeing as they’d at least tried.
“Shit. Time ’s it?” Ghoul mumbles, leaning forward to fuck with the radio dial.
Kobra glances at his watch.
“Quarter ‘till three,” he informs him, watching Ghoul grin and turn on the radio.
Doctor Death Defying’s voice soon fills the speakers, giving the traffic report like he does every day at this time.
“Good evening Motorbabies! Looks like a peaceful day out here in the Zones. No raids or Dracs ‘av been spotted by my Eyes but that don’t mean y'all should go all soft on me. Quiet ain’t ever a goo-”
The broadcast cuts out abruptly and Kobra swerves when he jerks to look at the radio. After a few tense, quiet moments, the radio cuts back on and the broadcast continues.
“Sorry ‘bout that darlins, just got word of a patrol heading down Guano. Looks like they’re coming out of Three and down into Two as we speak. So, keep your eyes peeled and your guns close ‘cause I’ve gotta bad feelin’ ‘bout this one, folks.”
Kobra and Ghoul exchange a worried glance.
They cross into Zone two at that moment- which is where their current base is- and instantly Ghoul is alert. His gun is in his hand, eyes trained on the road behind them while Kobra keeps watch in front. It’s tense, neither of them really breathing.
A clap with a bunch of Dracs is not something they wanna do today. Not when there’s only two of them. Hell, not even when there’s three of them.
Everything is silent except for the engine thundering as Kobra guns it down Guano.
They need to get home, now.
The radio kicking back on startles Kobra yet again, but he manages not to swerve this time. His brother’s concerned voice comes through the radio just a second later, high and panicking.
“Party to the AM.”
Ghoul grabs the CB radio’s microphone, clicking the button in and answering Party quickly so that he doesn’t freak even more than he already is.
“Sup.”
Kobra fights back a smirk because he knows how worried Party probably is. He continues to keep his eyes on the road, searching for the tell tale signs of Dracs, as Party answers Ghoul.
“You guys okay out there? Doc’s broadcast said there’s Dracs out.”
Ghoul looks over to Kobra, grinning.
“Are we okay?” He asks Kobra, serious except for the mischievous gleam in his eyes.
If Party doesn’t punch him, Kobra will.
“Just answer ‘im before he has a heart attack.”
Ghoul frowns at his joke being shut down but listens to Kobra for once.
“Yeah we’re milkshakes dude. Haven't even seen anythin’ yet. ‘prolly gonna make it back without seenin’ ‘em.”
Being a City rat- not Kobra’s favorite term but the first one that came to mind- Ghoul had struggled a bit in understanding their slang at first. He always used to ask why they shortened everything and gave most things a nickname, which of course led to Kobra and Party teasing him endlessly about it. Lovingly of course. He’d soon picked up on it though. His long, drawn out sentences, ones that flowed together perfectly just like the City likes, soon transformed into chopped bits of slang and filler words.
He grew into a true rebel if Kobra’s ever seen one.
“Thank the Witch,” Party’s relieved voice comes over the radio a moment later. “Just get yer asses home safe. That’s an order.”
The last bit was clearly teasing, supposed to lighten the mood.
Party has only just recently realized that hey, they were a crew now and that crews were supposed to have shit like leaders and baddass names.
They’re still working on the name part, toying with Demolition Lovers and simply Venom, along with a few others. However, Party had been legitimately shocked when Kobra and Ghoul had agreed, unanimously, that he should be their leader. He’s still trying to get a feel for the dynamic of the whole thing. They had already basically followed his lead in fights and things, but none of it was official.
Not until recently at least.
“Yes sir,” Ghoul says, mock saluting and turning off the radio.
Party couldn’t see him but it does make Kobra break a small smile.
A small one.
Just as Kobra is beginning to think that they were going to make it back home without incident, the radio kicks on yet again. This time it's the normal one, still turned on and tuned to Doc’s station.
“Bad News my darlin’s, looks like an unlucky bunch jus’ ran head first into that Drac patrol. My Eyes are tellin’ me that they took most of the City’s goons out but their damages are still being assessed…”
Doc begins to talk about keeping safe again, warning them all to stay inside and not go out unless they have too.
Kobra isn’t listening anymore, his attention now on the dusty cloud kicking up about a mile ahead of them. He can just barely see the outlines of Drac vans and what might be motorbikes, but it’s clear that this was the clap Doc had mentioned.
Kobra, while keeping one hand on the wheel, uses the other to pull his gun from its holster on his thigh. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever may be ahead.
All of Ghoul’s jokes are gone, replaced with stone cold concentration. He’s afraid but hiding it well.
As they speed closer, the vans begin to come into view. They’re all shot up, laser marks scorching all over them. And while Kobra can’t see any movement, they still park the car about a thousand yards away.
Glancing over at Ghoul, they share a nod and get out to investigate.
It stinks of burned metal and clothing, the stench nearly enough to make Kobra gag. As they get closer, he wants to throw up for a different reason.
Scattered out over the road and into the sand are bodies.
A fuck ton of them.
Dracs lie dead, still smoldering wounds in their chests and on their masks. Even worse though, there’s rebels laid out as well. Their bright colored hair mixes with the sand as they lie, masks on and guns still in hand. Ghoul retches behind him and Kobra feels a pang of sympathy. He’s never been in a real firefight. Not like Kobra and Party have.
That doesn’t make it any easier as the two of them wonder around the battlefield in a state of shock.
That’s what it feels like. A battlefield. Like one of those old pictures from the Wars, bodies everywhere and no way to tell who is who.
It’s horrible.
It’s so quiet too, unnerving, when Kobra knows that just a few minutes ago these people were alive and fighting for their lives.
He notices how all of the bikes are turned on their side. The crew probably had to hop off quickly. There looks to be about 15 bikes, a big crew, but Kobra can’t bring himself to count the bodies.
A piercing cry breaks through the silence, scaring Kobra so badly that he fires accidentally out into the open desert. Looking around hastily for the source of the sound, something unnervingly close to a baby’s wailing, Kobra’s eyes land on one body in particular.
It’s a woman; her long, curly brown hair tangled and covered in sand. She’s laying facedown, a huge blaster wound burned into her back. It’s still smoking a little as Kobra leans over. The screaming is loudest here, whatever it is laying right underneath the fallen rebel.
He turns her over, gentle as possible, while Ghoul hovers behind him. When the woman is turned over, her eyes peer into Kobra’s. They’re full of pain but they also have a softness to them that he was not expecting.
Then he sees the thing she was on top of.
A small, squirming, and screaming bundle lies on the ground the woman was laying over. All Kobra can see is a mop of curly hair and the beginnings of a forehead poking out of the blanket, but he’s already picking the baby up.
He pulls the blanket away, revealing a red-faced and screaming infant. She looks pissed, as every baby is, but unharmed. So, he wraps her back up in the light material to keep her from the worst of the sun’s radiation and turns to Ghoul.
She’s stopped crying now, going still in his arms and Kobra swears she cuddles up to him. Ghoul is still staring, unmoving as he watches Kobra with the infant.
“What are we gonna do?” Kobra asks, attempting to keep the uncertainty from his voice.
They’re not cut out to raise a baby. They’re freaking teenagers in the middle of a goddamned desert!
There’s a groan and Kobra instantly stands and starts to search the bodies once more.
Maybe someone else is still alive?
He allows himself to hope so because he desperately needs something good out of this whole situation.
They find the groaning man only a few feet from where they found the infant. He’s got similar hair to the child and is clearly not dead. But those are the only good things Kobra gets from finding him.
He has one hand over a nasty wound on his stomach and is lying prone in the sand with his other hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He’s filthy and there’s a cut on his forehead that’s bleeding pretty badly that has sand and shit sticking to it.
Kobra hands the baby to Ghoul, who takes her without complaint, and goes over to the man. He seems conscious but only barely so, the wound in his stomach is likely the cause of that.
“Hey,” Kobra says, keeping his voice quiet and calm. “Hey, can you hear me?”
“Whoosethere” the man slurs, removing his hand from his face and squinting up at Kobra.
“Friendly face, here to help.”
With that the man opens his eyes fully and begins to look around with a growing panic at the scene surrounding him.
“Oh god,” he mutters, visibly turning pale at the sight of his crew’s dead bodies.
Then a look of absolute horror passes over his face and he tries to push himself up. He fails, unsurprisingly, and collapses back down onto the sand with a moan of pain.
A little bit of blood begins to trickle between his hands and Kobra starts trying to get him to stay still. All the while, the stranger keeps mumbling about a woman and something about a sidecar, none of which Kobra has any clue what he means. But he’s fighting surprisingly strong for a man shot in the stomach and Kobra has to give him a bit of credit for that.
If only the stranger could fucking realize he’s trying to keep him from dying out here and just stop fighting him.
“Hey. Hey, dude calm down, can’t understand ya.”
The man does calm a little but Kobra notices more blood coming from between his fingers and places his hands over the man’s own. Pressing down, the stranger winces and groans, but he looks at Kobra with surprisingly clear, yet fear ridden, eyes.
“My ma, she was with us. I went down and I-”
The baby decides to cry again at that moment- perfect timing Kobra would realize later- and the man jerks his head to try and peer around Kobra.
Ghoul shushes the baby, his hand coming up to hold her head as he bounces a little with her against his chest to try and soothe her.
“Oh god, is - is that- is that-”
The stranger is breathing faster, panicking as he fights Kobra’s hands and tries to get up again.
“Damn it dude, stay the fuck down.” Kobra presses harder on the wound. “You’re gonna bleed out-”
“My sister- she’s my-” the man interrupts desperately.
It surprises Kobra enough that he lets up on the pressure slightly. Ghoul swears behind him but he does get the baby to calm down again. Kobra wonders absently if they should probably get her out of the heat.
“She’s okay,” Kobra assures the man, pressing hard once again against the torn skin and clothing of the man’s abdomen.
All of his thrashing and fighting has torn the blaster wound badly and Kobra knows that they need to get him to calm down before he does himself in.
“She’s okay?”
The stranger’s voice is weak all of a sudden, the fight leaving him. He stares through half opened eyes at Kobra, like he’s watching somewhere beyond him. Likely, he’s watching Ghoul and the baby.
“Yeah. Not a scratch, can’t say the same for you though.”
“Ma?” he questions, the single word slurred as he begins losing the battle for consciousness.
Kobra tries to convince himself that the man is just falling asleep. Instead of, ya know thinking of the possibility that the- very highly attractive man, his head supplies unwantedly- stranger is dying.
“I’m sorry,” Kobra whispers sincerely.
Maybe if they were sooner they’d have been able to save his mom too.
Suddenly the man is moving again and Kobra can’t stop him in time. He sits up in a blink of an eye, a blaster in his hand that they hadn’t noticed, and fires.
Kobra freezes, realizing that this very well might have been a trap for the stranger to lure them in and then kill him. He waits for the burning pain and unconsciousness that will accompany being shot.
It doesn’t come.
However, a thump comes from behind him and Kobra turns around quickly as the stranger collapses back against the sand. A sinking feeling tells him that it’s Ghoul who has just been shot and is laying in the sand dead. Instead, he’s met with a new body, but not his friend’s.
A Drac lays dead now, only a few steps behind a very surprised Ghoul. He’s holding the baby close to his chest, eyes wide as they glance from Kobra to the dead Drac and then to the rebel.
His attention back on the stranger, Kobra realizes that he saved them. Their attention hadn’t been on the Dracs and they would have just been ghosted if it weren’t for the rebel laying in front of him.
The man is unconscious already but there’s still blood coating Kobra’s hands. It comes out far more quickly than before when he goes back to applying pressure. His mind is trying to think quickly, rushing to find some way to save the man.
Do they just carry him over to the Trans-AM and bring him back to their base?
They can’t just leave him here to die though; he just fucking saved their lives!
With that, Kobra’s mind is made and he leans over to pick the man up. It’s difficult, the man is taller than him and built sturdy. Kobra’s scrawny and not very strong, but he manages to hurl the stranger over his shoulder with some effort.
He nods to Ghoul, telling him wordlessly to follow back over to the Trans- AM.
Fuck.
Party’s gonna have a lot of questions when they pull up.