Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey! Get back here!” Party Poison yelled after the hooded figure running away with the very energy sphere they’d been tasked to retrieve. Kobra was going to have their ass if they didn’t bring it back to Killjoy HQ.

The stranger looked back at them, and, even though they wore a mask that covered their entire face, Party just knew they were smirking at them, mocking them.

“You’re only making it harder for yourself,” Party warned. Killjoy was a powerful and respected superhero agency. There was no way the stranger didn’t know who they were, which meant there was no way they didn’t know the trouble they were putting themself in by going against them. “It’ll be much more unpleasant for you when we catch you! If I were you, I’d cooperate.”

Apparently, trying to play the friendly angle didn’t work with whoever the little shit was. They just flipped them off and ran all the way to the end of the rooftop. Haha , Party thought. They’re cornered. Nothing else to do now than to turn around and turn themself in.

Party had almost made it to the crouched person when they let themself freefall off the edge. Alarmed, the killjoy ran to the ledge, looking down with dread. No matter how annoying they might have been, Party didn’t want the other to die ! And especially not with the sphere.

However, Party didn’t come across the gross mess they’d expected to find. No, there was none of that. As a matter of fact, there wasn’t even a body. It was like the stranger had vanished into thin air.

They looked more closely, eyeing every and each balcony with particular care. “Fuck,” they swore as they headed back into the building to do a sweep. “That shit….”

♡

“Wait, wait, so let me make this clear,” Kobra said, disbelieving. To be fair, Party didn’t blame him. You had to be there, they guessed. “You had the sphere, and then some no-name stole it right from under your hands? And you couldn’t get it back? And the fucker disappeared?”

Party sighed, wringing their hands. “Listen—”

“No, I don’t wanna ‘listen’,” Kobra cut them off. “This sphere was essential to our plan! We need the fucking energy sphere, because it’s a source of fucking energy, and we need the fucking energy to charge up the fucking weapon against fucking BL/ind!”

BL/ind; also known as Better Living Industries; also known as a front for the mob. Better Living was the company it operated under, but behind the corporate nightmare hid the real monsters. Or rather, the real monster, singular: Korse. He was the whole organization’s frontman, as well as its boss. Both Scarecrows and Draculoids answered to him. Crows were considered elite, while Dracs were usually the ones stirring up trouble in the streets.

“Language,” Jet lamented, replacing her glasses. Then, she turned to Party. “It’s alright, Party, we’ll get it back. In the meantime, we’d better write this stranger into our database,” she finished off with a sigh.

Kobra angrily tapped on his keyboard as he looked for anything that matched the brief description Party had given him.

“Skin color?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hair color?”

“I don’t know.”

Kobra hesitated. “Eye color?”

Party grit their teeth. “Sure, Kobs. I couldn’t help but notice their beautiful baby blues as I was running after them. You know, facing their back.”

“... I’m going to go ahead and assume that means you don’t know.”

“Yeah, no shit,” they snapped. “All I can tell you is that they’re probably a girl, based on their height. They have a small body and wear a small black suit with green and grey lines. They had this fucking ugly army jacket with the sleeves cut off and black sports short, but I’m hoping they don’t always wear it because it’s a painful lack of drip.”

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up,” Kobra groaned. “Face?”

“Covered by a mask. It was like this weird Frankenstein kind of mask? I don’t know, bro. The fit was not it .”

Jet blinked once. Twice. “I don’t think the ‘fit’ matters if we have a new supervillain on our hands, Party. I’ve just browsed quickly, and it seems like this little encounter isn’t isolated. I can see reports of this stranger all over the city already. And no , before you can ask, they don’t always wear the jacket and shorts.”

“Do they go by a name, by any chance?” Kobra inquired.

Jet squinted, and Party looked over her shoulder to see she was reading a news article. “The press refers to them as the Zombie? But the individual themself doesn’t seem to have made their villain name a public statement.”

“Yeah, what about their real name?” Kobra half-joked, half-snapped. At Jet’s irritated expression, he kicked the floor and mumbled a quick apology.

Party frowned. Something didn’t make any sense. They’d all spent months looking for the sphere, but this random supervillain who didn’t exist the week before swoops in and steals it? Something wasn’t adding up. “Jet, in your articles, what kind of crime does that Zombie person commit?”

“See, that’s the thing. They’re almost all petty, superficial crimes. The Zombie tagged a building, the Zombie breaks and enters some rich man’s condo, the Zombie robbed a handful of chain stores, shit like that. But then that’s where it gets tricky: they keep stealing batteries, power cords. My guess is they decided to aim for something a bit more… sophisticated.”

Kobra glanced Party’s way. “But how did they know about the sphere?”

Jet pursed her lips. “Either, like I said, they got a taste and decided they liked leading a life of crime, or they’ve been flying under the radar for far too long.”

“Fuck,” Party breathed, and, this time, Jet didn’t protest.

♡

Head still reeling, Party stepped out Killjoy HQ. “I need fucking coffee,” they’d told Jet and Kobra, and while that was true, they mostly needed some time alone to think things through. They couldn’t explain why, but something about that Zombie person felt different than most supervillains they’d encountered. What they’d originally thought would be a quick capture was turning more and more complicated.

All they knew about the mysterious Zombie wasn’t actual information. As a matter of fact, Zombie wasn’t even their name! And while, sure, a suit color was a good way to identify them as their supervillain alias, it didn’t actually help identify the actual human under it.

Whatever, they told themself. They’d caught criminals with less information in the past, and they’d do it again if they needed to. They only wished the damned alarm bells ringing in their head would shut the fuck up about something being fishy. 

If you took the main streets, the coffee shop was about fifteen minutes away, but Party always took shortcuts through alleys. They wouldn’t recommend it to any civilian, but they knew they could handle themself in a fight, so they weren’t particularly worried. Plus, it wasn’t so bad to remind low-level thugs that, wherever they were, they weren’t safe from the killjoys.

Speaking of!

What they guessed were two gang members were fighting with some kid they had cornered. Under their mask, Party narrowed their eyes. Not on their watch, they weren’t.

Thinking of it, they probably shouldn’t have felt that much glee at the sight of crime, but they really, really, needed a distraction, and the two thugs were what they would call a distraction handed to them on a silver platter. 

“Hey! Assholes!” they interpelled the criminals, and smiled to themself as the two figuratively shit their pants.

One of them made a move to flee, but his partner gestured for him to stand his ground. Grinning, Party squared their fists.

The fight was brief, but the rush kicked in nonetheless. They came back out triumphant, their bleeding knuckles a token of their victory. Smiling, they turned to the kid, who—now that they were up close—had to be about their age.

“I had it under control,” he spat. 

Party raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know… from where I was standing, you were outnumbered by guys twice your size.”

The boy scoffed before looking at them right in the eyes. “I can take guys twice my size.”

Party coughed, taken by surprise. The other’s mocking expression sobered them up soon enough, though. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Shoving his hands in his hoodie, the guy spoke up. “Ugh. You heroes think you’re so entitled. I didn’t need, nor wanted, your help. I was doing just fine before you came barging in, but hey, if you need to feed your inflated ego some more, feel free to tell yourself whatever you’d like. It won’t keep me up at night.”

Party snapped their gaping mouth shut. “Damn, okay, dipshit. I’ll just let you get fucked over next time, Jesus.”

The boy just derisively laughed, flipping them the bird. Party glared at the back of his black-haired head as he walked away. 

“I definitely need this coffee, now,” Party mumbled to themself.

♡

Back at their and Kobra’s apartment, Party sprawled on the couch, ready to tell Kobra all about the alley asshole. To coerce him into listening to their story, they’d even brought him a coffee—black, with no milk and no sugar because Kobra was boring and didn’t like fun.

“Alright, alright,” their brother said, sitting down on the armchair’s arm. “What happened and why are you pissed?”

“Dude, you would not believe what the fuck just happened! So I was walking in the alley between the 5th and the 6th, right? And I see this kid getting beat up, so naturally I go over and help his sorry ass out, y’know?”

Kobra rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I mean, it’s your textbook job description. So go on, then, what happened after?”

“I shit you not, this kid—that’s not actually a kid—goes on a fucking spiel about how heroes suck or whatever? Like, what kind of person doesn’t like superheroes? We save lives and shit!”

“You were in the alley between the 5th and the 6th, Pois. You probably interrupted a small gang dispute, no wonder he was pissed. Criminals don’t like heroes. Also, get your head out of your ass. Lots of civilians don’t like us. And I don’t blame them all that much, either. We do a shit ton of property damage when shit gets real. Maybe a car crashed into his house once and he resents us for it, you never know.”

“Okay,” they admitted, dragging the -ay, “but that doesn’t excuse the attitude. I saved his ass and homeboy was pissed . Oh, and did I tell you he whipped out a fucking innuendo, too?”

“Ah, I see,” Kobra wisely nodded. “A pretty boy cusses you out and now you’re smitten.”

Party scoffed, not quite sure if they should laugh it off or be offended. “Fuck all the way off, Kobes, that’s so not what happened.”

Kobra had the decency not to add anything. Well, anything on that particular subject. “On a whole other topic, the Zombie has struck again. They’ve targeted a politician, this time. Apparently, they beat him up for information, and threatened him when he wouldn’t give him any. He claims he had no idea what they were talking about, but he also didn’t say just what he was being interrogated on, so who’s to say. You owe me ten bucks, by the way.”

“I what? Why?”

“Zombie’s a boy. Politician man said so.”

“Fuck off, I never made a bet with you on that. Besides, I just bought you coffee!”

“Yeah, yeah, well as the resident boy in this house I demand compensation.”

Party shook their head, eyeing Kobra. “Thou shalt not rob me of my money, younger annoyance of mine.”

“Fine, keep your money. I don’t want it anyway. Where’s Jet? I like Jet better than you,” Kobra said, but his words had no heat. 

The two of them stayed silent as Kobra turned on the TV. It wasn’t until they were 10 minutes in the episode they were watching that Party let out a guffaw.

Kobra paused the television, bored. “What.”

“It’s just, that’s the shortest fucking boy I’ve ever met in my entire fucking life,” they laughed.

Chapter Text

Ever since the Zombie—which, really, was such a bad name. That man really had to claim a cooler alias, in Party’s everright and absolute opinion—had stolen the energy sphere, his crimes had doubled. Not that the aforementioned crimes were related to the sphere. Maybe Jet had been onto something when she’d guessed that he had developed a taste for crime. By the way things were going, the guy would be a fully fledged supervillain in no time.

Party was doing a routine lookover the neighborhood—aka walking the rooftops—when they heard an alarm blare, drowning out the city’s nighttime noise. Party’s head snapped that way, spotting the broken window. 

“Hey Kobes,” they said through the radio. “I’ve got a B and E round the corner, last floor, alarm’s just gone off. Any info on the situation yet?”

“That’s odd, the alarm company hasn't been alerted. According to your GPS, the building you’re speaking of is 1880 Wilson Avenue, is that right?”

Party confirmed, and Kobra hummed. “That’s odd,” he eventually said. “The company is supposed to be alerted if an alarm goes off. I’ve notified them of the system failure, but be careful out there.”

It was odd indeed. They jumped on one of the building’s balconies and climbed the remaining floors. They looked through the sliding door’s window to make sure they weren’t walking right into an ambush before giving it a good shove, breaking yet another window in the apartment.

Huh. Maybe Kobra was onto something when he said superheroes were expensive.

“Alright, whoever you are, playtime’s over. Out, out. And through the door, this time.”

No answer. They groaned: why couldn’t criminals make it easy? It was always like a fucking game of evil Twister, with them.

“Listen up, fucker. I know you’re there, so either we do it the nice way, or I personally chase you down and it’ll suck for the both of us.”

“What if I like it rough?” a familiar voice asked, but Party couldn’t place it. They could, however, place the fucking pint-sized supervillain.

“So we meet again,” Party commented, eyeing the Zombie. “Would you do all of us the honor of identifying yourself, or shall we all keep on using Zombie? ‘Cause that’s a pretty lame name. Just so you know.”

The other was still wearing that damned mask, but Party just knew he was smiling underneath it, taunting them. They just knew it. Or maybe Kobra was right and they were quick to jump to conclusions.

“Fun Ghoul’s alright.”

Party’s smile was instantly wiped off their face. “Are you shitting me? What are you, twelve? That’s even worse than fucking Zombie! God !”

Fun Ghoul protectively crossed his arm over his chest. “No one asked you….” 

Party stared at him in disbelief until they remembered what they were there for. Right, the trespassing. “Okay, the chit chat was fun, but it’s time for your arrest.”

“Um, okay, genius, but you still haven’t caught me yet. But you’re right, though. The ‘chit chat’ was fun. We should do it again some time, except that I’d really rather not see you again.”

Then, the little shit grabbed a chair and threw it between the two of them to facilitate his escape.

“You fuck!” Party yelled, following him. “What are you even doing here?”

“With all due respect, which would be none, I think I’ll exercise my right to remain silent.”

“Jackass,” Party mouthed. Not that Fun Ghoul could see it, but it felt good to have the last word. Ish. 

It turned out that the smaller boy was good at parkour. He jumped over the furniture scattered all over the apartment, reaching the window Party had broken, thank you very much, and using it to escape.

“Use your own fucking exit!” They yelled after him. Watching Fun Ghoul leap from balcony to roof top was almost mesmerizing, but they didn’t have time to stop and stare. They ran after him, cursing him off.

They soon had to admit defeat, though. The little shit made a jump, and Party knew they’d lost him. Following him would be too fucking risky, and they needed to get back to the crime scene anyway. Hopefully, Fun Ghoul had been careless in his hurry.

Back in the apartment, they contacted their sibling. “Hey, Kobes? Who lives here?”

They heard tapping on a keyboard, and then Kobra answered: “It’s some BL/ind employee. It says here he’s some executive for… something? His job description’s not really clear, so, if I had to guess, I’d say he’s not all that legit.”

Party sighed. The tricky thing with BL/ind was that they were good at covering up their track. Dracs—and sometimes Crows, even—would take the fall for BL/ind, which meant that the majority of the common population wasn’t aware of the ties that Better Living had with the mafia.

Which, consequently, was why Killjoy was so focused on catching Korse. With his arrest, both BL/ind and the mob would be in shambles, thus easy to eliminate. However, the killjoys couldn’t do that if someone kept on stealing their weapon and shaking things up in the organization. By targeting BL/ind employees and other affiliates, he was only scaring them into hiding better. Not only that, but the killjoys had no idea what he was after. He wouldn’t be the first supervillain to go after Better Living Industries in the hopes of ruling over the city.

Supervillains tended to go after one another. Party supposed it was a good thing: it meant less work for them. They’d rather the bad guys turn on each other than assemble and turn on the killjoys. It would be neat of them to stop messing with Killjoy operations, though.

“I don’t find anything missing, Kobes. Er—apart from the two windows.”

They couldn’t see him, but they had a feeling Kobra was pinching the bridge of his nose somewhere up in Killjoy HQ. “Look again.”

“I still haven’t checked the bedroom. Wait, I see something!”

“Party? See something? You’re supposed to see a lack of something!” Party shut off the radio.

Fun Ghoul had left a note on the bed pillows. Party slipped on their gloves before picking up the piece of paper.

hey there p! tell ur friend the press it’s he/it bc they keep thinking im a girl <3 alr thx babe better luck next time (catching me, i mean. loser.)

Party gaped at the note. Who the FUCK did this kid think he was? Oh, they’d catch it alright. 

♡

“I won’t lie, I’m getting tired of this dude,” Kobra said when Party sat down next to him and Jet.

“Tell me about it!” Party agreed. “First the outfit, now the name. It’s like he’s not even trying to be taken seriously.”

“Who cares about credibility?” Kobra asked at the same time Jet said, “The name?”.

“Fun Ghoul,” Party declared, slamming the note on the table they were seated at. 

Kobra squinted at the note. “Talk about a chicken scrawl. And so he’s made a public statement.”

“This is bad,” Jet commented. “It means he’s gaining traction, and it knows it. We need to put a lid on this, and quickly, before it inspires any aspiring criminals.”

“I hate him,” Party whined.

Kobra laughed. “Why does this keep happening to you?”

They narrowed their eyes and directed them at Kobra. “What do you mean?”

He grinned, and that smile meant nothing good. “Oh, just, y’know. Your rivals just tend to be flirty towards you. Or did you forget that evil pink lady?”

Party groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me of her, she made me so uncomfortable. She made so many comments about my ass, man. Like, I know it’s a great ass, but it’s inappropriate! What happened to work ethics?”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that,” Jet chimed in. “She did give off weird vibes. But what about Thunder something?”

“Or the pretty boy from the alley,” Kobra added.

“Or Fun Ghoul,” Jet concluded, waggling her eyebrows.

“I hate you all,” Party declared. “Jet, get back to arresting people. Kobra, get back to your nerdy computer savviness.”

Kobra gave them the middle finger. “That nerdy computer savviness has saved both your asses countless times, so pay some respect and bring me food.”

“Being your sibling is so bad for my wallet.”

♡

About a week had passed since Party’s last encounter with Fun Ghoul, but the latter had been nothing but active during the said week. Jet had even met it a few times, and from what Party had gathered from her rants, she didn’t like him much either.

“He’s just so infuriating,” she’d said, and Party had had no choice but to agree.

They were walking in the street when they saw him again—not Fun Ghoul, pretty boy . Not that Party thought he was pretty, but Kobra had taken a liking to calling him that and the nickname had stuck. 

And, okay, he kind of was pretty, but he was also a massive asshole. The looks simply couldn’t compensate for the personality.

He was apparently a trouble magnet, too. At first, Party hadn’t noticed him. It was only after they’d shoved him out of a speeding truck’s trajectory and that their eyes had met that they’d realized who they were staring at. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting each other like this,” they laughed. 

Party had grabbed him to stabilize him after the push, but the boy was quick to take a step back. “Well it’s your job, isn’t it,” he spat.

The killjoy looked at the truck—that was now far, far away. Party wished they could’ve gotten a look at the bastard’s license plate. “Still think you had it under control?” they teased.

The boy looked them up and down in disgust before spinning around and walking away. Party couldn’t miss the way he looked both ways twice before crossing, but what they did miss was the smile he bit back once his back was turned to them.

Not seeing the change in his cold facade also meant that Party was pissed at him, which in turn meant that Kobra once again fell victim to their ranting. Though, to be fair, he got food out of it, so he couldn’t really complain. It was a nice compromise.

“It’s like, ugh! Who is he to be offended that I saved his life? Twice! There’s gotta be something more interesting than hating on superheroes!”

Kobra snickered as he loudly sipped his iced coffee through a straw. Loudly. “Or maybe he just hates you .”

“Yeah well I hate him too,” Party grumbled. 

“So much hate in such a tiny body,” Kobra sighed, shaking his head dejectedly. 

“I’m taller than you, asshole! And I’m not even small. You know who is small, though?”

“I don’t know, Fun Ghoul?” Kobra said as he shrugged.

“No! I mean, yeah, but no! Pretty—erm, the dude from earlier,” they corrected themself.

Kobra erupted into laughter. “Maybe that’s why none of them like you. The shorter they are, the more condensed the anger is.”

Party glared at him. “That’s not fair! I’m not the only one they don’t like! Jet has met Fun Ghoul too and she despises him. And from what she’s told me, the feeling is mutual. Yeah, she’s still taller, but she’s closer to his height than I am. I mean, c’mon, the guy can’t be pissed at anyone taller than it, that’s everyone!”

“Maybe that’s why he’s a supervillain,” Kobra snickered. “That’s its villain origin story.”

They both chuckled before staring at each other, sobering up. “We should stop laughing at small people behind their backs now, right?” Party asked.

“... Yeah,” Kobra agreed. “It was fun while it lasted, though.”

“Too bad it was short lived,” Party added, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. Kobra answered by throwing a cushion at them.

“Alright, losers!” exclaimed Jet.

Wait. Jet? What was she doing in their apartment? Confused, Party and Kobra snapped their heads her way.

“Jet? How did you get in here?” Kobra asked for the both of them.

“No time to explain. Suit up and follow me!”

Both siblings obliged, albeit confused. While, yes, she knew their identities, they hadn’t expected her to barge in their shared apartment. Not that they knew how she’d even managed that. Nothing seemed broken, so Party guessed she hadn’t kicked the door open. It would’ve been just enough for their landlord to kick them out: Party swore the woman was only waiting for an excuse.

“Where are we going?” Party asked a few minutes later, ready for whatever Jet would throw at them.

“This one,” she said, sticking her thumb out Kobra’s way, “is going to HQ. We’re going zombie hunting.”

Chapter Text

Why was it that every time they ran into each other, it was nighttime?

Fun Ghoul had been active in the daylight, after all, so why was Party only there for the nightly felonies? Realistically, Party knew that crime tended to be higher at nighttime, so the odds of it weren’t that improbable, but still .  It was fucking dark out, and it just had to rain that specific night.

“Quit bitching,” Kobra told them over the radio. “Or, at the very least, turn your radio off.”

Party looked down at their radio, confused. It hadn’t even been turned on.

“You’re hearing them through mine,” Jet explained, gritting her teeth.

Kobra swore. “Jesus, Pois. Shut the fuck up, maybe? Aren’t you supposed to ambush the son of a bitch?”

Party rolled their eyes, but kept their mouth shut. They would just follow the plan silently, then. They had to give it to Kobra: it was smarter for them to keep quiet.

According to Jet, a task force of heroes were trying to keep Fun Ghoul out of a Killjoy building. Killjoy HQ was the biggest and most protected building they had, but they had plenty of bases all over the city. They mostly held extra equipment or supplies, which still counted as stuff they didn’t want villains to steal from them. 

Fun Ghoul was getting more and more daring. Very few were those who got away with targeting the killjoys. And by very few, Party meant no one. Okay, maybe Korse—and BL/ind, by association—but that didn’t count. Individuals alone didn’t stand a chance against them, so Party wasn’t quite sure they understood what Fun Ghoul’s endgame was.

At the moment, though, its endgame didn’t really matter, because he was trying to break into a killjoy building, apparently? Or had broken into one? The details were blurry, but they couldn’t let it fly either way. 

Jet and them stopped around the corner from the fight. Party could hear explosives going off and shots getting fired.

“Wait,” they said, suddenly more worried. “Did we store guns in that warehouse?”

Jet shook her head no. “I’m guessing the responding team was armed. At least, I’m hoping they are, because if they’re not the ones with weapons….”

Party nodded. If Fun Ghoul had gotten his hands on weapons, the situation was dire. They heard another bomb go off and froze. “Jet,” they said, urgency dripping from their voice.

She had begun to run towards the fight, but halted when she heard Party’s blooming panic.

“Batteries. It kept stealing power sources. Jet, the bombs .”

Jet’s face fell as she put the pieces of the puzzle together. “He has the energy sphere! Oh my God, he’s the one setting off the bombs. And it’s got a sphere full of volatile energy.”

Both killjoys turned their heads towards the noise with apprehension. “Well. Die with your masks on if you’ve got to, right?”

Jet looked at the fist they were holding out and bumped it. “Die with your mask on.”

With those parting words, they ran into battle.

Up close, the carnage was even worse. One of the warehouse’s walls had been completely blown up, and there was no doubt that Fun Ghoul’s attempt at breaking in had been successful. It was then that Party noticed it was way too fucking hot for a rainy night. Another look at the building revealed fire. With all of the chaos, they hadn’t even noticed the flames. Luckily, the rain was keeping it from spreading, but it was horribly decreasing visibility.

Party grabbed the nearest killjoy—she couldn’t have been more than 16, and she looked scared shitless. This was way above her paygrade—not that they were paid or anything, but she was nowhere near experienced enough to be dealing with rising supervillains. They remembered their own debut, not so many years ago.

“Where is he?” they asked her.

If the terrified face she shot them meant anything, they would guess it meant they wouldn’t be seeing her around Killjoy HQ. No, she had the face of someone who was about to pack her bags and move far, far away.

“Fun Ghoul,” they repeated. “Where is he?”

Trembling like a leaf, she raised a finger. Party followed it, and saw a group of killjoys fall to the ground. Ah .

They could spare five seconds, though. “Listen to me. Your fight here today is over. Turn on your radio and go to channel 8. My brother’s on there, he’ll help get you to safety. You did good.”

She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. They tried to give her a reassuring clap on the back, but their stress made it more awkward than anything. Another explosion saved them from their pathetic attempt at cheering her up. Sighing, they flashed her a small smile before hurrying to the commotion. 

However, when they arrived, they were informed by the surrounding killjoys that none of them actually knew where Fun Ghoul was. They knew where its explosives were, though. Apparently, he’d first set off a smoke bomb, and since then, all they’d managed to do was catch glimpses of it. 

“He’s planted explosives beforehand and all we keep doing is setting them off,” some killjoy lamented. “Every time we spot him, we lose him ‘cause someone steps on a trap!”

Party glared at the group. They were mad at the situation, but since the situation wasn’t exactly something they could glare at, the group would have to do. They suspected that, much like the girl from earlier, they were new at the whole hero thing. Patrols usually—keyword: usually—were simple enough: small, nightly misdemeanors were a relatively easy thing to deal with. It wasn’t every day that supervillains decided to execute a grand attack on a Killjoy building. 

“Everyone split up!” they yelled, and, thankfully, they had enough authority that they all listened. Usually, splitting up wasn’t considered a smart move, but by staying all together, they didn’t cover as much ground as they could. Not only that, but every time someone set off a bomb, everyone else lost vision.

What mattered was finding and stopping Fun Ghoul. Party didn’t dare imagine the chaos that would ensue if criminals got the word that they could get away with ransacking a Killjoy warehouse. They would have to double security at all public locations. And no matter the outcome of the night, too. One could never be too safe.

When something exploded under their feet, they had to admit they’d underestimated both the killjoys and Fun Ghoul. Those pesky little explosives were harder to spot than they’d previously thought. Paired with the fire, the lingering smoke from bombs that had detonated earlier made it even harder to see.

“Fun Ghoul!” they yelled, trying to trick it into coming out of hiding. It obviously didn’t work—they weren’t sure why they still bothered. Maybe in the hopes that it would stress him out? Stress made people do all sorts of crazy things.

“Come on, man. I was having a perfectly nice evening before now. What’s the point of having a Netflix subscription if I can’t even be home to use it?” Perhaps thinking out loud wouldn’t lure Fun Ghoul to them, but it sure kept them entertained.

“You know what I’ve never understood? If you’re going to be evil, why be a supervillain?” they continued.  “There are way more legal ways to be evil. Take politicians, for example. Or Better Living, y’know. Seeing as you keep targeting them, surely you must know they suck. Either that, or you’re a very twisted individual who genuinely wishes to hurt people but inadvertently keeps going after bad guys. That would make for a good comedy show. That I would watch on, say, Netflix .”

Despite their comedic genius, Fun Ghoul wasn’t tempted to come out. Well, fuck him, Party thought. It was missing out on lots of fun, obviously. 

It had been silent for far too long, Party decided after not speaking for approximately thirty seconds. “You know—”

“Oh my God . Do you ever shut up ?!”

They smirked to themself. “You’re, like, really bad at being a supervillain,” they told him.

“And yet here I am,” Fun Ghoul replied. That little shit was probably so proud of itself, too. Party wasn’t quite sure where he was—it had remained hidden in the shadows, but, from what they could tell, he was somewhere up on a roof or balcony. “Or maybe you’re just a bad superhero.”

“Dick,” they muttered, just loud enough that Fun Ghoul would hear it.

“Well, you know what they say,” the supervillain said as he dropped to the ground next to them.

It sounded like he was muffling a laugh, and Party quickly grew wary of what he was going to say next. “Don’t say it….”

Alas: “You are what you eat,” he finished off with two fingerguns. Party was going to wring its neck. Kobra was never going to let them hear the end of it. ‘Oh, but Party,’ one could ask, ‘why would you even tell him he was right when saying that their rivals had no fucking shame?’ Good question, Party would answer, but they were going to do it either way.

“I hate you,” Party groaned.

“Aww, you wound me,” the other laughed. “Anyway! If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my merry way with the brand new Killjoy shit I just stole.” It even had the guts to brandish its ‘findings’ before booking it out of there.

“Oh, no you don’t,” they growled, setting off after him.

This time, they didn’t have to do damage control like they had back in the apartment. The only thing they had to focus on was right in front of them, trying to escape, and Party just wouldn’t have that.

They had to give it to him: he knew the city well. Every turn was calculated. Or he was a lucky bastard. Party thought they’d caught it when he turned to a dead end, but he was saved by a huge garbage container. It jumped on it, and then proceeded to jump again, over the half-wall that made the alley an impasse. 

The two of them landed on the other side of the cut-off street before emerging on one with much more light. Recognizing the boulevard, Party smirked. Fun Ghoul might have known this city—or this part of it, at least—on the back of its hand, but he obviously didn’t know that Party’s great-aunt used to live near there.

They and Kobra had spent a huge part of their childhood in the neighborhood. Their grandfather had passed away when their mother was really young, so their father had been raised by their grandfather’ sister—the sibling’s great-aunt. Because of that, their father and great-aunt had been really close, and the former had often visited the latter. As kids, Party and Kobra were bored out of their minds by the visits, and would run out in the streets to play while the two adults talked.

All of that to say that they knew every nook and cranny of the neighborhood. When Fun Ghoul turned right on Grand Ave, they turned left, taking the street adjacent to it instead. There would be stairs, and they thus would be able to climb the buildings on Grand Ave. From there, all they had to do was drop on the villain and catch it.

Indeed, they could see him from their standpoint. A rookie mistake, they guessed. He should’ve known to evilly look into Party’s great-aunt. Though they were kind of relieved they didn’t. She deserved to rest in peace, and they liked having their identity secret anyway.

Fun Ghoul had noticeably slowed down, probably thinking he’d lost Party in the chase. From the roof, Party grinned. The fall would hurt, but victory would heal their wound. That, and their suit was actually really good at preventing fall damage.

Handcuffs in one hand, they leaped at the unsuspecting supervillain, who went down with an ‘oompf!’

“Ha!” Party exclaimed. “Gotcha.”

“Fucking fine!” Ghoul bit back. “Cuff me, but get the fuck off me. I’m getting crushed down there!”

They obliged, but it was worth noting that, “Hey, you chose the job, now deal with the consequences. The hazards of trying to pierce as a supervillain is the risk of getting crushed. Shouldn’t have tried to be evil if you didn’t want that.”

Fun Ghoul grunted, but didn’t protest.

“All right, Fun Ghoul,” Party said, which reminded them just how much of a hassle his name was. “You don’t mind if I call you Ghoul, right? Just a small nickname between archnemeses!”

“We’re not archnemeses ,” Ghoul whined with a scowl, as if the very word pained it. “That’s so lame. You should let me go just so that I can tell everyone just how lame you are. The people have a right to know!”

“Ha, good try, but no.”They moved him to the nearest lamppost so they could tie him to it. That way, it wouldn’t escape while they waited for backup.

“Kobes,” Party said through their radio. “I’ve got Fun Ghoul here with me. Say hi, Ghoul!’

“Fuck ooooff,” Ghoul answered instead.

Party winced. “It’s not really cooperative.” Then, they turned to Ghoul and flipped him off. Kobra couldn’t tell them off for being provocative because he wasn’t there to see it. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

They shut their radio off. “Alright, so let’s play a game to kill time!”

“You’re really really irritating, has anyone ever told you that?”

Party waved his insult off with a flick of their wrist. “Oh, all the time, don’t worry about it.”

Ghoul shook its head. “No, I really have to know. Do you always speak with that weird false cheer in your voice?”

“Yeah….”

 Ghoul groaned, and if they had any modesty, Party would’ve bit back their smile. They didn’t, though, so a smile Ghoul got. 

“Okay, game time, now!” Party declared. “Let’s cover the basics: why are you evil? Who do you work for? What’s your goal?”

Ghoul humored them. “I wouldn’t say evil . Maybe chaotic, at most? And I work for myself. Do you think I’d really go through all this trouble to be bossed around? I’d just be a hero and not get arrested, if that was the case. Wait, no, I take it back, fuck y’all. Yo, what’s an antagonistic job that requires listening to orders?”

“Uh… police?” Party guessed, and Ghoul snorted. “Also, don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding my question. What’s your goal? What do you hope to achieve? Why the crimes?”

“Does ‘because it’s objectively funny’ count?”

“Obviously not?!”

“Ugh, you’re boring. Do all superheroes have a stick up their ass, or…?”

Party craned their neck, hoping to see someone, anyone , from Killjoy coming to rescue them. Alas, they were left alone with the infuriating criminal. “Work with me, here. You’re about to be taken into custody anyway, and they’re all going to bug you with the same questions I am anyway, so, goal?”

Ghoul cocked its head, the empty black eyes of that damned mask boring into their soul. “Wouldn’t you say that’s more like second date material?”

Party breathed in. Breathed out. “God I fucking hate you.”

They then turned their back to Ghoul, who quickly grew bored. “Come back. Party Poison. Partyyyy. Come back. Come back and untie me.”

They sighed, gritting their teeth as they turned back around. “I’m right here , Ghoul. Not going anywhere. And, no, I’m obviously not uncuffing you?”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

Party thought that would be the end of it, but then something shifted beneath Ghoul’s mask. It took them some time to realize what exactly had changed, due to the fact that it was covered up pretty well, but worry filled their mind when they finally realized. 

Under the blacked out eye part of the zombie mask, they could vaguely make out the outlines of Ghoul’s eyes. But then, it happened: the white of its eyes turned black, and the entire circle part—pupil and iris—turned pure white.

Staring at Party, Ghoul extended both his arms, effectively breaking the cuffs. “Alright, well, see you later!” it said before karate-kicking them in the face. Then, while Party was incapacitated—because, really, how had Ghoul even reached their fcae? He was so short—he jumped, launching itself ten feet in the air.

Gobsmacked, Party lost several seconds looking at him disappear into the night before they thought to follow. When they finally reached the roof, it was already too late: it was like Fun Ghoul had vanished into thin air.

What the fuck .

Chapter Text

“Okay, okay,” Kobra said. “Can we debrief again, please?”

Party rolled their eyes. “You can ask the questions all you want, the answers are going to stay the same.”

“So you had Fun Ghoul in your custody, but it broke through our reinforced cuffs?”

“Yeah.”

“And you say his eyes glowed white?”

“ Yeah . Believe me, I know how it sounds.”

“It sounds bad,” Jet said, worried. “It sounds really bad.”

The three killjoys were sat around their usual table, doing their best to process the situation. It wasn’t the first time they’d had to face a villain with superhuman abilities, but it sure was the first time one’s powers had broken their enhanced equipment. The old equipment had been replaced, made to sustain greater blows, and even that hadn’t been enough to hold Ghoul.

“Alright,” Jet spoke again, defeated, breaking the anxious quiet that had settled in the room. “I’ll alert the manufacturers that we need stronger bonds.”

“And I’ll add the new info in his folder. And save that folder in the superhuman folder. Fuck.”

Party smiled sadly, patting their brother on the back for support. “We’ll get him, Kobes. We just weren’t prepared.”

Kobra smiled back, and his broken smile twisted and shattered Party’s heart. “It’s not just him I’m worried about, Pois.”

And Party knew. Party knew . 

Every single killjoy would have to be on high alert, ready for anything. Ghoul successfully raiding a Killjoy building meant nothing good. Him getting away with it made Killjoy look weak, inadequate in the eyes of both supervillains and the population.

If they lost the city’s trust, chaos would ensue. And in that chaos, criminals would strive. There was no better climate for crimes than a city sunk in fear. 

Criminals were going to grow confident, and confident meant trouble. Confident meant daring, and daring meant more damage.

The only way to stop the trainwreck was to remove the train. And the train was currently at large. Not only that, but it had the highest source of energy in the city in its possession. Oh, and superpowers, apparently.

They’d had Ghoul, though. It had been right there, humoring them. He could’ve escaped at any moment, but he’d stayed there, taunting them. Party couldn’t wrap their head around why.

They kept replaying the events, trying to find something they could’ve done differently. They could’ve called Killjoy before, maybe. Ghoul would’ve been safely carried to a detention center. Surely jail cells were bound to be stronger than simple handcuffs. 

How the villain had kept escaping so easily made more sense, though. His senses seemed to be enhanced when his eyes glowed. It explained how he’d managed those crazy leaps across rooftops, how he seemed to disappear so quickly. Party simply wished they could’ve connected the dots faster. They should've considered the possibility of it having abilities right off the bat, after their first meeting.

A hand landed on their shoulders and they tensed. They hadn’t realized someone else was in the room. Jet and Kobra had left a few minutes ago to notify everyone of the latest updates.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jet said, and Party frowned. They could’ve sworn she’d left. When had she come back? As if she were reading their thoughts, she added, “You’ve been sitting on this chair for nearly thirty minutes. I figured it was time someone came to get you.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Had it really been that long? It hadn’t felt like more than five minutes, tops. When Party looked at the clock on the wall, though, they saw just how much time had passed since they’d first zoned out.

Jet sat down next to them. “I know how frustrating it is to lose someone when you thought you had them. It’s happened to all of us. At least once. It doesn’t make you a bad superhero. Think about it this way: you managed to find it not even fifteen minutes after you first arrived on scene when killjoys had been there for at least an hour. You caught him. And yeah, okay, you lost him, but no one else came close to even laying their hand on it. And yet you caught it.”

Party chuckled wetly. “Well yeah, but what good is it really if I can’t keep him caught? It’s worse that he escaped, because I’m losing credibility here, Jet. Now I’m just the guy that let the ciminial go. And I can’t shake it off as some rookie mistake—I’m not a rookie anymore. I haven’t been in a long time.”

“It doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to make mistakes. You lost credibility? Big deal. So you take it back, Party. You take it back by arresting the next criminal that makes the mistake of underestimating you. You’re a damn good superhero, so stop beating yourself over what you couldn’t help. You can do good in this life, but first you have to shake off what’s holding you back and get up.”

“Wow. You don’t hold back, huh?” Party laughed. They still felt like shit, of course they did, but they admittedly felt a little less like shit.

Jet shot him a poorly disguised pitying glance. Not in a mocking way—Jet couldn’t do any bad even if she wanted to—in a worried way. And she did try to hide it, but Party had known her for far too long to miss it. “You needed it.” 

“I did.”

Jet got up and lightly punched the side of their arm. “Well, come on, now. Victory will just taste even better once you catch it for good.”

♡

Party Poison was enjoying a nice, celebratory coffee—they’d just successfully put some wannabe supervillain behind bars—when they saw Fun Ghoul again. It had been a week since their last, miserable encounter, also known as the time Party inadvertently let them go. 

Pro: they’d been waiting for, well, a week for this opportunity.

Con: they currently were in their civilian clothes, their mask stashed away in a zipped pocket in their backpack.

Sighing, they ran outside and crouched between two trash containers so they could contact Kobra in relative safety. “Kobes, has anyone reported a Fun Ghoul sighting near my area, and if so, is someone following up on it?”

Kobra’s answer was not reassuring. “Um… no….” 

“Fuck,” Party swore.

“Why ‘fuck,’ Party?”

“Because I don’t have my suit on, brother of mine, and he’s right next to me.”

“Fuck,” Kobra agreed. “You have your mask?”

“Obviously,” Party said with a scowl. “What do you think I am, an amateur?”

“We don’t have time for your attitude! Can you follow it? I’ll alert a team so they can relieve you. Do not engage.”

“I won’t engage if they come soon,” Party grunted as they slipped on their mask.

They ran back out onto the street, sighing in relief when they saw Ghoul still out on the roofs. Luckily for them, he wasn’t aware he’d been noticed, which meant he wasn’t in any hurry to get the hell out of there.

Party hurried into the nearest building, demanding access to the roof.

“Listen, son,” the store owner said, eyeing their outfit. “You're not the first Party Poison I’ve seen barging in this store like this. You’re going to need more than a mask.”

Party halted, confused. People impersonated them enough often that store owners were used to it? They shaked the thought off: they’d unpack it at a later time.

“Ma’am, look past the outfit for a second there, okay? There’s a class four criminal on your roof right now, so if you’d excuse me, I really, really have to go.”

Without waiting for her approval, they jumped over her counter and ran up the stairs. They’d smooth things over later. In costume.

Ever since the Killjoy raid, Ghoul had been elevated to a class four criminal. In theory, a successful attack on a Killjoy building would’ve boosted him to class five, but when the grading system was created, it was assumed that only the most evil and twisted individuals would attempt to do it, and much less succeed.

Class for was for city level terrorists, and seeing as Ghoul had never even killed anyone, Killjoy had judged he didn’t really qualify as such.

There was a theoretical class six, which meant that everyone was fucked and that the supervillain was a country/world threat, but that had never happened, so, as of yet, class five was considered the highest class. That made four the second to highest. At the mention of it, people panicked—and rightfully so.

When Party reached the roof, Ghoul was preparing to jump over to the other building. 

“Wait!” they yelled, effectively announcing their presence.

“You fuck ! I almost fell!” Ghoul screamed back, waving its arms in the air as it tried to regain his balance.

“Um. Sorry?”

Ghoul finally turned around, freezing when he noticed who he was talking to. “Oh. It’s you again.”

Party feigned hurt, dramatically bringing their hand to their forehead. “You didn’t recognize me? You wound me so!”

Ghoul turned its back to them, then whirled back around to do a second take. “I see you revamped your outfit.”

“Motherfucker. I have a life outside of this, you know? Couldn’t you have waddled around somewhere else?”

“And miss out on those booty shorts? Uh, no thanks!” it snickered.

Party really, really wanted to rip his mask right off his face so they could punch it in the nose. 

“Anyway, if you’re done talking, I’ll be on my way, now,” Ghoul declared. “It was fun catching up, though! Let’s do it again sometime and all that! Toodles!”

Okay, escaping custody, Party could forgive—not really, but that was outside the point. Explosives? Yeah, okay, fine, bombs were fun, they could sweep that under the rug. Stealing from politicians? Politicians remorselessly stole from everyone all the time, they could excuse that too. Saying ‘toodles,’ though? Nu-uh. That was worth a lifetime sentence.

“Oh no, you stop right there!” they told it, picking up their pace so they could catch up to it.

Feeling the wind in so many places threw them off. Usually, when they were jumping from rooftop to rooftop, they had their suit on. Now all they had were booty shorts and a crop top, leading to usually covered body parts being exposed.

Fun Ghoul might have had super abilities, but, fundamentally, he was short on legs. And Party Poison was a lot of things, but short was not one of them. And they made good use of their long legs by running fast—and catching criminals, also by running fast. 

They leaped at the smaller boy, knocking it to the ground. They both rolled around on the roof, stopping just short of the edge, and Party was painfully reminded that they weren’t wearing their suit when the cemented surface scratched through their skin.

“Are you trying to get us both killed?!” Ghoul exclaimed, outraged.

Party opened their mouth to reply, but the ringing of their cellphone cut them off.

Ghoul faltered. “You don’t put your cellphone on do not disturb when you’re out on missions?”

Party glared at him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, fuckface, but I’m not supposed to be out on  a mission, right now. So yeah, forgive me if I forgot to put my phone on silent after spotting you roaming the streets.”

“Aw, that’s actually cute, you dropped everything to come chase me!” 

“Fuck offfff. God, I hate you,” they whined.

Ghoul wiped off imaginary tears from its mask’s eyes. “The famous three words. I didn’t know our relationship was at this point already. And on the second date only!”

Party had half a mind to push him off the roof, consequences be damned. Fortunately for the little shit, Kobra had decided to leave a message, and they elected to listen to it instead of cussing Ghoul out.

“Hey Pois. Can you call me back, like, five seconds ago? We need to talk.”

“Heh,” Party told Ghoul. “Sorry about that.”

Ghoul laughed, something Party admittedly hadn’t expected it to do. “Sorry, that was just, like, so anticlimactic. ‘Pois?’ Who even was that?”

“Just my—”

“Secret hook-up!” Ghoul interrupted. “Spurned lover! Betrothed!”

“... Brother ,” Party finished.

While they’d have loved to either answer Kobra or turn their phone off—they still couldn’t get over the fact that they’d forgotten in the first place—their hands were currently occupied with something else, aka pinning Ghoul down.

The distraction over, the latter decided he’d had enough of being stuck between Party and the roof. It tried to shove Party off, but they pushed him back down. “Not this time, shitface.”

Ghoul sighed, going limp under them. “That’s so unfair, though? You’re so tall.”

“Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but everyone’s ‘so tall’ compared to you. Besides, don’t you have superpowers or something?”

“Or something.”

With that, he grabbed both of Party’s arms, rolling the two of them over so he wound up on top. If they’d had a suit, maybe they would’ve put up more of a fight, but they’d obviously sustained more damage than Ghoul had. They did the best they could to regain control, but Ghoul pressed into them harder, keeping them from moving as they felt pavement tear through their shirt and scratch their entire back.

The concrete wasn’t the only thing they were feeling. They suddenly became very much aware of just how little clothes they had, and just how close Ghoul was. They felt their cheeks flush, and prayed that their mask covered enough of their face that Ghoul wouldn’t notice. It didn’t mean anything, it was probably just the close proximity. Party was only human, after all. There was just a lot of someone else against their skin right now.

Party tried to stand up, but Ghoul forcefully pushed them back down, much like they’d done with it not so long ago. Just like that, the heat magically vanished off of their face, their body catching up with their brain as it got the painful reminder that this was not a fun situation at all .

“Well go on, then,” Party spat. “You’ve got me, I’m all yours. Tear off that mask off my face, if you must.”

In all honesty, Party had never imagined their identity would be revealed that way. They weren’t sure exactly how they’d thought it would go, but that definitely hadn’t been it. Ghoul leaned in closer, and they thought, this is it. This is how it ends .

They closed their eyes, and waited, but it never came. Instead, Ghoul pushed itself off the floor—which, really, meant he pushed himself off of Party and pushed them into the floor—and got up to its feet. It walked away without a word, leaving Party alone and battered on the roof.

Chapter Text

Their cellphone ringing again pulled them out of their daze. “Yeah?”

“Party?” Kobra asked. “Where are you? I dispatched a team to your location, but they say they don’t see you.” He paused. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright. Uh, tell your team he went north of Blue Street, on St Mary’s.”

“Okay,” he said, but even without seeing his face, they knew he knew they were full of bullshit. “See you tonight.”

“See ya.”

They picked themselves up from the floor, wincing at the uncomfortable sensation. They were properly scratched up. Disinfecting it all would hurt like a bitch. Maybe Kobra had been onto something when he’d told them not to engage. 

In their defense, Kobra’s team had taken their sweet time to arrive, and they’d warned him that they would do something if no one came. And no one had, so Kobra couldn’t hold that against them.

In the distance, they could hear shouts from killjoys—probably out chasing Ghoul. Party got up to their feet. The killjoys could do whatever they had to do. They, on the other hand, needed to get home and clean themself.

Back home, they slammed the door, locked the two locks, got in the bathroom, and locked that door before stripping out of their beyond destroyed clothes. Oh, well. They’d had a good run. Maybe they could still wear them at the punk shows Kobra dragged them to.

On one hand, they’d really been looking forward to that shower, but on the other hand, they’d really, really apprehended it—and rightfully so, too. Excruciating was an understatement. While, sure, it felt good to wash the grime off of their body, it also hurt like a motherfucker.

They glared at the soap. They knew they had to, but they really, really weren’t looking forward to using it. The remainder of the shower was a blur of pure fucking pain . Crime be damned, Party was never ever tackling a bad guy without a suit ever again.

After putting on long sleeves and pants and socks, they opened up the cabinet, looking for theKilljoy-issued wound treatment lotion, realizing only too late that they would need to take their clothes off once again.

About half an hour later, they were all lotioned up and back in their clothes, nestled in blankets on the sofa. The TV was on, but they were blankly staring at the screen instead of whatever was playing. They mostly wanted the background noise so they wouldn’t have to think.

Think about what had just happened. About how they’d had Ghoul, again, and had let him go. Again . They didn’t like the pattern that was forming.

They didn’t want to think about the way they’d been overpowered by some guy half their size. Though they had to admit it had a suit while they hadn’t been wearing adequate equipment, so maybe that was an unfair assessment of the situation. The pain had admittedly been near unbearable.

… So much for not thinking about it.

Party forced themself to turn their attention back to the television. Kobra would be back soon, and they knew he would pester them with questions. They’d be forced to think about it all soon enough.

‘Soon enough’ came in the form of Kobra quietly prying the door open, comfort food in hand and Jet in tow.

“Hey, buddy,” the latter said.

Kobra sat down next to them and placed Chinese take out on their knees. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. You just didn’t sound okay over the phone, so I thought we could all just chill. No need to make a big deal out of it if you don’t want to. Also Jet was with me at HQ and we were both starving, so.”

Party chuckled. “You’re a fucking walking stomach.”

“Guilty as charged,” Kobra admitted, cracking a mischievous smile. “Now eat before your food goes cold.”

Jet settled down on Party’s left and wrapped them in a hug. “Wanna hear about my day?”

Party nodded, and she began to tell them all about the perp she’d spent all day chasing down. It was a welcome distraction from their racing thoughts. 

“Hey, wanna hear about the last perp I chased down?” Party joked when she was done, and the silence turned weird. “Ah. I made it awkward. Never mind, then.”

“No, it’s fine!” Jet assured them, and she sounded genuine enough that Party believed her. “Maybe my story wasn’t the most sensitive, sorry.”

“It’s alright, Jet. Really,” they added when she didn’t seem convinced. “I tried to make it funny, but….” But it obviously didn’t land. 

“No offense,” Kobra said, and Party had a feeling whatever he’d say next would be mildly to horribly offending, “but your face doesn’t look like it was all that funny.”

Party brought their hand to their face and just as fast as they’d put it there, it was gone. They’d kind of forgotten about the whole open wound ordeal. 

“Yeah…” Kobra let out, wincing in sympathy.

“It looks worse than it is,” Party told them. “Trust me, I’ve seen what it looks like. I put lotion on it, so it should be fine soon enough.”

“You shouldn’t have needed lotion in the first place, though. Party, you told me you wouldn’t engage and—and I’m sorry, now’s not the time to talk about this,” he lamely finished off, shooting Jet an apologetic look.

Party would’ve like to add something to explain why they had. Something like: ‘he would’ve gotten away from us if I hadn’t,’ but the truth remained that, in the end, he’d still gotten away.

They just wished they knew why Ghoul hadn’t removed their mask.

It felt as if, along the way, the lines had been blurred, but they didn’t understand what had shifted. The lines had been blurred, but no one had thought to tell them what the lines were.

Ghoul hadn’t removed their mask, and that meant something. They just wished they knew what.

Maybe it was payback. Party hadn’t removed his when they’d had it in their custody—not that they would’ve been allowed to. Killjoy had an extremely specific set of rules that forbade them from revealing a supervillain’s identity if the said supervillain wasn’t in a Killjoy holding cell. Party wasn’t sure who had created that rule or why, but they’d decided not to question it and respect it. It gave criminals… privacy? Usually, not being allowed to remove a mask wasn’t a problem Party faced, because—again, usually —the criminals they were after ended up in custody the first time Party caught them.

Whatever it was, Party would wait for it to blow down before talking to Kobra about it. He’d probably only tell them that they were too close to the matter and that he was afraid they were letting it get personal. Which they weren’t, but Kobra would still think it, and they didn’t need their brother’s judgy eyes boring holes in the back of their head.

“...zoned out again. Worried for them, y’know. They’ve barely moved ever since we got here,” they heard Jet tell Kobra, and they were about to turn around when they realized she was talking about them.

Instead, they stayed still and waited for their brother’s reply. “They’re proud, and their pride’s been hurt a bit. Don’t tell me yours wouldn’t, too. They were the first to chase him, and now they feel it’s their duty to catch it.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling. He’s impossible to deal with, it drives me crazy. It’s like it wants you to feel you’re in control and then, at the last second possible, he books it.”

That analysis of Ghoul really made Party want to jump in the conversation, seeing as it was pretty much what they’d obersed, but they didn’t want Kobra and Jet to know they’d overheard their entire conversation, so they kept silent. 

Ghoul had a goal. Party wasn’t sure what, exactly—it wasn’t exposing killjoys, that much was certain—but they’d figure it out. They’d figure it out, and then they’d catch the bastard.

They were getting closer to the truth. They could feel it.

♡

The following week was a blur of intercepting Ghoul. Even though, most of the time, they stopped Ghoul from doing whatever it had been there to do in the first place, it still felt like they were losing.

Like, sure, Ghoul escaped, but he wasn’t doing any damage, so Party wanted to count it as a win. Except that it had happened one too many times—or rather, five. Five too many times was more accurate.

Party had practically spent every waking moment of their days running after him, and it was starting to feel like a game of mouse and cat. Not that they knew which one they were supposed to be. The more they thought about it, the less they knew: they’d run into Ghoul too often for it to just be a coincidence.

It was like they were playing right into Ghoul’s sick game with no way of knowing how to do anything differently. Either they let it do whatever it wanted, or they did exactly what it expected them to. He didn’t even bother to act surprised when they met up anymore.

Party had tried voicing their worries to Kobra, but he’d swept them under the rug. “You’re probably just tired. I mean, yes, it’s crazy just how many attacks the fucker has planned in one week, but how could he plan for you to be there? You’re being paranoid.”

“I know how it sounds,” Party had protested. “But don’t you find it suspicious? I’m telling you, it’s like he expects me to find him.”

“It doesn’t, okay Party, it doesn’t !” Kobra lashed out. “ How could it? How ?!”

Party opened their mouth to reply, but shut it close. It was pointless to argue with him when he was angry. Kobra had worked his ass off all week, too, and he was tired. Perhaps they could try again when he was more receptive—they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t, because Kobra would tell them the same thing, except more calmly and more intelligently, and Party didn’t want to be convinced.

All they knew was that Ghoul was aiming at something. He wasn’t just acting out, as Jet had suggested a few weeks ago. It wasn’t a power trip—or, if it was, it was a very precise and targeted one. Despite all the chaos, its moves were calculated. They weren’t sure to what extent—from what they could tell, Ghoul was a bit unhinged, too. The villain was basically three contradictions walking around in a trenchcoat.

They also knew that Jet and Kobra were worried about them, but that couldn’t be helped. Party was right. They knew that much. Something was happening right under their noses, and they were all none the wiser as to what.

Last but not least, Ghoul had a very specific m.o.: it stole power sources and/or targeted authority figures. So far, its most prominents attacks had been stealing the energy sphere, assaulting the politician, and raiding the Killjoy storage warehouse.

They had the dots, they just needed to connect them in a way that made sense. The best comparison Party could muster up was those drawing games they’d played a kid where numbered dots filled the page and they needed to be connected to reveal the drawing, except that someone had erased the numbers and some of the dots along with them.

Which didn’t leave Party with much.

A nearby explosion brought them back to reality. Get your head in the game , they told themself.

Oddly enough, Ghoul wasn’t involved in the day’s attack. Party wasn’t quite sure why an ache formed in their stomach at the thought of that. They wrote it off as anxiety: Ghoul had been awfully silent that day, and surely that meant nothing good.

When they’d heard the first bomb detonate, they’d run to the scene, persuaded they would find Ghoul amid the smoke. What they could name as none other than disappointment had washed over them when they’d realized they were only facing a Scarecrow. They’d expected more of a challenge than some Crow. Still. It was better than a Drac, they figured. That would’ve bored them out of their mind.

“Really?” they asked the Crow, unimpressed. “Ripping off of some supervillain is all you have to offer? I thought Better Living was better than this. If this ,” they said, gesturing at the so-called carnage the Crow had wrecked, “is what they consider elite, I fear we may have overestimated their threat level.”

The Scarecrow didn’t bother replying with anything else than a grunt.

Party exaggerated their sigh. “Ugh. Not really talkative, are we? It’s so much more interesting when you guys talk,” they lamented. That Crow should draw inspiration from Ghoul. They’d already stolen the bombs, they could’ve afforded to talk just a little more: Ghoul managed to sprinkle just the right amount of banter in its fights.

Oh, well. Party guessed what the Crow had going on would do, too. Party probably couldn’t do with more than one archnemesis anyway.

The Scarecrow charged at them, and, wow, they really weren’t dancing around the pot.

“Woah, there, cowboy,” Party laughed, dodging their attack. “Or cowgirl. Or cowperson; I’m the last one to judge.”

Leaping at Party like that had thrown the Crow off balance. From there, it wasn’t hard to send them to the ground with a precise sweep to the legs. 

“And that’s karate for ya, buddy.” Thank fuck their brother had dragged them to his lessons as a kid. Kobra could send anyone flying—Party included—but, compared to the general population, they didn’t do too bad themself, either.

Party crouched next to the fallen Crow, cuffing their hands with Killjoy’s newly reinforced handcuffs. No superpowers would surprise them tonight.

They watched the Crow get transported to the Killjoy detention center, the adrenaline gradually leaving their body until they felt like dropping to the ground. Maybe the week had been more tiring than they’d previously thought.

Ghoul’s attacks had worried Better Living Industries enough that they’d started deploying Scarecrows. Mediocre Crows, sure, but Crows nonetheless. In other terms, the killjoys would have to catch Ghoul soon: he was shaking things up, and not the way Killjoy wanted things to shake. They’d spent too much time planning strategic strikes for some random supervillain to swoop in and ruin their chances of success.

Party’s encounters with Ghoul had been… entertaining , if they could call them that, but their time had come to an end. If the killjoys wanted a shot at stopping BL/ind, they either had to stop Ghoul so they could continue their meticulous hits, or they had to charge at Better Living in the hopes that the present chaos would sway the odds in their favor.

Whatever the option was, though, they had to do it fast, because time was running out.

Chapter Text

“Alright,” Jet declared, slamming a stack of papers on the table Party and Kobra were sat around. “This ends now. I propose we move forward with a plan to catch Fun Ghoul.”

Party raised an eyebrow. “In case you haven’t noticed, that’s what we”ve been trying to do these past few weeks, Jet.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree with Pois,” Kobra told her. “Every attempt the two of you have made has, well, failed. No offense.”

“None taken,” Jet assured him. Party kept quiet. “So far, we’ve only ever intercepted him. He’s in control of these situations, and I believe they’re all carefully planned out. What I suggest is this: we lure it out. Let us be in control, this time.”

“What makes you think he’ll come? If you’re right—and I think you are: he knows what he’s doing—then why would he want to risk that advantage?”

“Because we’ll make him believe it was his plan all along!” Jet exclaimed, overjoyed.

Kobra cleared his throat for her attention. “In theory, that would work, but how would we even achieve that?”

Jet smiled, more than happy to show off her genius. “We know, or at least strongly suspect, that he’s got some way to spy on us. How else could it have known about the energy sphere or the warehouse?”

“Ooooh,” Kobra said, a smile spreading to his face as well. “I get it! We fake valuable info and it piques his interest. Quick,” he demanded, grabbing a paper and a pen, “what has value to him?”

“Uh, batteries, energy sources, equipment,” Party listed off. “That’s mostly what Ghoul has stolen so far.”

“Ghoul?” Kobra asked with a barely concealed smirk.

“Fun Ghoul is just such a hassle to say,” Party was quick to explain. “Also, it’s fucking lame—Ghoul sounds a thousand times better.”

“I mean… they’ve got a point,” Jet weighted.

“Besides,” Party added. “We all have nicknames here, it’s nothing special.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re friends !”

Party glared at their brother. “You try calling someone ‘Fun Ghoul’ with a straight face, Kobes.”

Jet nodded in agreement. “Sorry, Kobra, but the match goes to Party. Valiant effort, though.”

Kobra shot Party a look of we’ll talk about this later , and Party pointedly ignored him. Kobra didn’t have any idea what he was talking about, even Jet agreed. They couldn’t take Ghoul seriously with that name, and, given his threat level, they really needed to, hence the nickname

“Ugh, can we go back to the plan?” Party encouraged Jet.

Just like that, she was back on track. “Yes! Thank you , Party. My plan is to bring down the security on a radio channel of our choice. On that channel, we leak information about a precious electrical weapon we need to move to a secure location—that’s bound to attract him, right? If I’m right, it listens in on our comms. He’ll think he uncovered something big, and he’ll want it.”

“So our plan depends on whether or not Fun Ghoul has hacked our comm servers?” Kobra asked, not quite convinced, and Party couldn’t blame it. They weren’t sure of the plan themself. “What if it has hacked more than we thought and he listens in on other channels? Other channels in which we plan the capture, no less.”

“He’ll bite,” Party declared. “He’ll come even if he knows we’re playing it.”

“What makes you say that?” Jet inquired, her curiosity genuine.

“If it doesn’t know it’s a trap, the temptation will be too hard to resist. And if he hears us plan its capture, he’ll have something to prove. He’ll want to shove it in our face that he’s better than us. You’ve said so yourself, Jet. He likes control. If it knows what we’re planning, the control of the situation goes back to it. Either way, he believes he’s on top of the situation. He’ll come, trust me.”

Jet hummed appreciatively. Kobra, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes at his sibling, but didn’t voice any of his concerns.

After one too many awkward seconds of his staring, Party hugged themself defensively. “Stop looking at me like that! I’ve just had a lot of chances to observe the way he operates on the field.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Kobra, who nodded and grabbed the papers Jet had previously slammed in front of him. Party imitated him, their racing heart going back to a normal cardiac rhythm.

♡

Planning Ghoul’s capture had taken five days during which they hadn’t heard from the supervillain. Killjoy had taken it as a good sign: he was likely busy planning its own strike, hopefully unaware that he would be walking into a carefully crafted trap.

Finally, it was time: the mission would take place the same night. If everything went according to plan, Fun Ghoul would be in their custody before the clock struck midnight.

Party couldn’t shake off their jitters. Whichever way it would go, they had a feeling the encounter would be significant. They could feel it in their gut, and their gut was oftentimes right. Ideally, things would go their way, of course, but they still felt…  excited, maybe? Excited to see how it would all turn out.

Them and Jet were already in their respective places, not-so-patiently waiting for the sun to set. Since, along with Kobra, who was back at HQ, they’d been the ones to plan the mission to begin with, they’d gotten the best places, ready to set off after Ghoul in the off chance he escaped.

The plan went as such: Ghoul would intercept the Killjoy car carrying the weapon—not that it contained one, but he didn’t know that. From there, Jet would go out of hiding, and arrest him. If he refused—which he was obviously going to, but it was a matter of free choice and all—snipers would shock it from afar with a special dart, weakening him long enough for Jet to retrieve it. Party kind of wished they could’ve been the one to officially arrest him, but Jet had been the brains behind the whole operation, so it was only fair she got the best part.

The sun was nothing but an orange line in the far horizon, and Party could feel the adrenaline building up. They would have loved to ask someone if the car was close, if Ghoul was on its way, but, for obvious reasons, they couldn’t use any radio channel: they couldn’t risk Ghoul hearing their plan so close to the mission.

Finally— finally —they could see the reinforced Killjoy car closing in. Relief washed over them when they saw Ghoul follow suit. Not only that, but he wasn’t even wearing his sleeveless jacket and shorts! It had probably only opted for the suit to reduce its visibility, though.

Ghoul swiftly jumped on the car’s roof before breaking the passenger window with a swing of the leg. Purely from a spectator point of view, he was impressive. Its movements were both graceful and violent. Now that they weren’t busy running after it, Party found themself admiring his technique.

“Stop the car,” they heard it say through the car’s radio channel—it was the only one still open, the others left silent for the mission’s success. Since it was the channel Ghoul had been tricked into thinking he’d broken into, it would’ve raised his suspicion for the killjoys to stop using it.

The driver obliged, parking the car in front of Jet’s place of hiding.

“Great. Now let’s see the trunk of this car,” Ghoul ordered. 

The two of them stepped out of the car, and Party thus lost their access to audio. It didn’t bother them all too much: they’d regain it soon enough, when Jet would step in with her radio turned on. Staying radio silent—no pun intended—wouldn’t be necessary after that, the capture plan revealed to Ghoul.

The driver gave Ghoul a set of keys, and Ghoul handcuffed him. He was careful through it, Party noted. The driver had been given a gun to assist Jet in case she needed help, but Ghoul had been cautious enough and had made sure he wouldn’t be a threat. It wouldn’t be enough to stop Killjoy, though: nothing could save him from the shock snipers.

Ghoul unlocked and opened the trunk, only to reveal… an empty truck.

“Fun Ghoul!” Jet called out, restoring Party’s audio, and it spun around, eyes wide.

“What—”Ghoul let out, realization dawning on its confused self, and Party couldn’t help but feel bad at the way his voice cracked.

“This is your chance to surrender calmly. I would strongly advise you take it.”

Ghoul took a step back, obviously in flight mode. It turned around, his side facing Jet, and made a move to start running. Before he could get far, however, two darts hit him in the arm and upper chest. Staggering, he fell to the cold pavement, and Jet moved forward, hand placed on her Killjoy-issued gun.

She hesitantly pushed the villain sprawled on the road with her boot, but he didn’t bulge. Satisfied, she crouched next to it, getting her handcuffs ready.

Jet secured one of his hands but, before she could turn to the other hand, Ghoul grabbed her shoulder.

Her eyes grew twice their normal size as she let out a pained scream. A white spark of electricity appeared where Ghoul’s hand had come in contact with her. Then, as sudden as it had happened, she fell to the ground, and Ghoul took off.

“ Fuck !” Party swore. They wanted to check up on Jet, but they knew, realistically, that there were people much more qualified than them on site for that very purpose. Besides, if they were right, she’d only received the shock the snipers had hit Ghoul with. They weren’t sure how he’d achieved it, but he’d somehow transferred the energy onto her. As soon as they’d have the time to sit down and think about it, they had a feeling it would all make sense.

They chased Ghoul all the way to a rooftop, because of course it had to be a rooftop. The little fucker took way too much liking to them.

“Party!” it greeted, as if he didn’t already know. Also—since when had Ghoul started calling them Party?

It didn’t really matter, they decided. “Alright, Ghoul. Don’t you think this is getting old?”

“You, me, on a rooftop? Never,” it said, playful.

Party took a step in his direction: they didn’t have time to banter. The night should’ve gone so well….

“Shit, are you in a hurry?” Ghoul laughed. “Got somewhere to be?”

“A Killjoy detention center, actually,” they muttered.

Ghoul’s stance changed after that: it became more rigid, more serious. Party squared their fists, ready for anything. “I’m afraid you’ll have to cancel,” Ghoul said, any hint of playfulness gone from its voice. As he spoke, his eyes turned black and white, and Party gulped. They’d never seen Ghoul look pissed, they realized. Annoyed, sometimes, sure, but never angry . They missed the banter, all of a sudden.

Before they could do anything else, Ghoul charged at them, and they barely had enough time to get the fuck out of the way.

“What the fuck!” they protested.

“I thought you were different,” Ghoul growled, the glow in his eyes increasing. “But you’re just like everyone else.”

Party had no idea what the fuck that meant, but, for some reason, it stung . Ghoul didn’t leave them time to process it, though, swinging a punch. Once again, they barely dodged it. Ghoul wasn’t pulling any punches—quite literally. A nice surrender obviously wasn’t in the works for the night: they had no choice but to fight back.

Their punch didn’t quite land, but their fist grazed against Ghoul’s mask. Almost instantly, they felt an electrical shock spread through their hand. Shocked—in both senses of the term—they jumped back. “What the fuck?” they said again, eloquent as ever.

Ghoul seemed genuinely surprised, if the way it looked down at its hands said anything. Party’s eyes followed, seeing sparks of electricity flying around them.

When the villain looked up again, his eyes were back to normal. It didn’t leave Party much time to stare, though. He looked like he’d calmed down a bit, but he was still very much agitated. It wasn’t long before Party was dodging hits again.

They waited for him to tire out, but it never came. Sighing, they started returning punches and kicks, and the thing turned into a full on brawl.

The last time they’d been in a fight so physical, they hadn’t been wearing their suit. This time, though, they were prepared. At some point, Ghoul’s eyes turned black and white again, and his hits hurt more, but Party gritted their teeth and endured the pain. It felt like tiny electrical shocks, and they quickly got over the initial surprise. After a while, they barely even felt it.

Overall, they could safely say the fight was going well. As a matter of fact, they were about to land a major blow when it happened.

Party’s worst nightmare.

Ghoul moved his arm up, blocking their punch, and Party felt its hand get stuck under their mask. He dodged their hit and, as he stepped back, they felt the mask leave their skin along with him.

They reacted in a split second, both their hands hiding their face from Ghoul. All those years of being a superhero, and they’d never even come close to losing their mask in a fight. The worst part was that they didn’t even believe removing their mask had been Ghoul’s intention.

“Your mask…” Ghoul breathed. “It—it must’ve gotten caught in the fight, it fell off.” He sounded just as surprised as Party was.

Hesitantly, they peaked at Ghoul between their fingers, only to find him already looking away, his hand holding their mask extended towards them.

Still protecting their face with one hand, they grabbed the mask with the other. “Who even are you?” they asked, slipping the mask back on.

Once the mask was secured, they looked at Ghoul. Slowly, he turned back around, but under its own mask, its eyes—that once again were back to normal—refused to meet theirs. “No one you want to know,” he mumbled before walking away.

Party remained silent, not finding the right words to say. “You’ll have to let me be the judge of that,” they yelled over the wind. At that, Ghoul halted, almost looking back. Almost .

It resumed walking, and Party watched.

They could’ve stopped him. They had their suit; the fight hadn’t hurt them enough for them not to run after Ghoul. They supposed it was a silent mutual understanding of sorts. A twisted version of an eye for an eye: Ghoul had given them their mask back, and now Party was letting him walk away.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe we’re back here again,” Jet said. Party had rarely seen her look so dejected. “ We had him . I don’t get how he got away. Again .”

Party looked down, not meeting her or Kobra’s eyes. They hadn’t told anyone of their choice not to arrest Ghoul. It had had his back turned to them. They easily could’ve caught him, and both them and Ghoul knew it. They still weren’t sure why they hadn’t: the superhero life wasn’t fair, and it didn’t make sense for them to act according to a situation’s fairness.

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” they said, like the hypocrite they were. “I was sure that night was the night, y’know?”

Kobra patted their back. “Sorry, dude. I know you were looking forward to locking it up.”

The three friends were back in their usual room, doing their best to debrief after the previous day’s events. After their defeat, they’d all gone back home, agreeing to meet up the next morning in the hopes that a night of sleep would help them process what had happened.

And now here they were, still confused and angry and disappointed. Or, in Party’s case, confused, angry and disappointed at themself.

“Let’s go over it step by step,” Kobra recommended. “Maybe we missed something in the heat of the moment.”

“All our radios were turned off, so that’s not it. Though I guess maybe he did know it was a trap?” Jet speculated.

“He didn’t,” Party said. “You were right there, surely you must’ve heard his confusion. Besides, its stance changed when it realized. He’s many things, but I don’t think a good actor is one of them. He’s too spontaneous for that.”

“Alright, then the shock dosage, maybe?” Kobra asked. “What even happened there anyway?”

Jet grabbed her own shoulder, shivering. “It was so weird. I could feel the electricity going from its body to mine. I don’t know how he did it, but it was freaky as hell.”

“He did it to me, too,” Party let out. At Jet’s worried stare, they quickly corrected: “I mean, nowhere as strong as you had it! My guess is that he can transfer energy from it to someone else somehow? But, then again, my guess is as good as yours.”

“Elaborate,” Jet demanded, interested.

“So we were fighting, right? I think he had some residual electricity from the blast, so it shocked me when he hit me. I think he can mostly control it, although maybe a little less when it’s undergoing strong emotions. As far as I can tell, the only telltale sign that it’s going to shock you is his eyes.”

“The black and white thing you said they did, right?” Kobra asked, and Party confirmed.

“Huh,” Jet huffed. “So he’s got fancy eyes and electrical powers?”

Party shrugged. “‘S just what I observed.”

“Okay. Okay,” she repeated. “So after he took me down, you ran after him. What happened next? I was, well, kind of out of it.”

They could feel their cheeks turn hot under the shame. If they played it well, their friends would hopefully write it off as guilt for not having caught Ghoul.

“It all happened so fast. The shocks took me by surprise, and I guess I just wasn’t prepared enough for it. Ghoul—erm, Fun Ghoul,” they corrected, eyeing Kobra, “throws surprisingly mean punches, too. Anyway. I got over it, and I thought it was in the bag, but I must’ve miscalculated my hit, ’cause he dodged and indisposed me right there.”

‘Indisposed’ . Fancy word for ‘accidentally ripped their mask off’.

“Ugh, I get that,” Jet sympathized, and fuck did they feel horrible. “I was sure this was a done deal, too, and the shock completely threw me off my element.”

She sighed miserably, sinking on the table.

“Hey, come on guys, don’t let me do the cheering up,” Kobra begged after seeing both their defeated expressions—albeit for very, very different reasons. “I suck at the cheering up.”

Jet raised sad eyes at him, and he had no choice but to do the cheering up.

“Let’s rationalize. Sure, yesterday absolutely did not go the way we thought it would, but at least we know more about Fun Ghoul. We have a better idea of how his powers operate, and that’s huge . We can already start investing in insulating suits! I know it’s frustrating right now, but we’ll get him eventually. There’s only so much surprises it can keep from us.”

“So what’s our next step?” Jet sighed. “I need to get my head back in the game because I’ll go crazy if I don’t.”

Party worried their bottom lip. “We could… we could attack BL/ind.”

“What?” both Jet and Kobra exclaimed, staring at them in disbelief.

“Just listen! Ghoul’s been fucking shit up with Better Living, and if he’s on the loose, then that means he’s going to continue to fuck shit up. BL/ind’s been on edge lately—we’re losing our window for an opportunity to tear them down.”

Jet and Kobra shared a look, and the latter shrugged. “I mean, they’re right.”

“So we give up on Fun Ghoul?” Jet asked, her face filled with barely filtered judgment. “After we spent all that time trying to catch it?”

“It’s not so much giving up on him as it is putting our focus elsewhere. Ghoul will be suspicious of any attempt we make of catching him for a while, so we concentrate on BL/ind in the meantime. Besides, all things considered, BL/ind is way more hurtful to the city than one individual, no matter the personal and emotional baggage we have with that one individual.”

“I hate when you make good points,” Jet told them.

And with that, the conversation steered into safer waters, Kobra and Jet growing more and more excited as they planned out the strike on Better Living Industries.

♡

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bloody fucking vents, Party swore in their head as they tried to hold in a fit of sneezes. For an institution that had so much influence in the city, you’d think BL/ind would think to clean their vents more often. The dust was making their nose act up like crazy. If not for the crimes they commited on a daily basis, the health regulations breaches would’ve warranted an arrest.

Tears pricked their eyes, and they had no choice but to stop crawling, trying to get ahold of themself. God . Their only consolation was that they’d almost reached their destination.

Killjoy’s plan was to find incriminating proof that BL/ind had ties in the mafia. Which shouldn’t be too hard, given that BL/ind was the mob. All Party had to do was disable the main alarm system and switch up some camera views so they could cruise around the place as they wished.

Finally, finally , they kicked open the vent access and jumped into the control room. Or rather, jumped on the security guard posted in the control room. He went out without a sound, and Party was quick to steal his access card.

They looked back up at the vent they’d just left, and made a mental note to remember to whine to Jet about it later. She’d taken one look at the dimensions on the blueprints and had burst out laughing, informing them that there was no way she was going to crawl in such a tiny space for the hell of it. “You’re on your own, big guy,” she’d said, and it apparently wasn’t up for debate because Kobra started jotting down that Party would be doing the crawling.

After securing the access card, they grabbed the guy’s radio and turned towards the computer. Time for the hard part.

Since they were looking for dirt on BL/ind—and, ideally, Korse—they’d guessed the boss’ office was the hotspot for all things mafia. That being said, they needed to clear a path to the said office. With the guard’s access card, they could easily navigate through the place unnoticed—assuming no one saw them sneak around.

However, they had to take into account the fact that, for whatever reason, someone would probably check up on the control room at some point, which was precisely why they had to hack into the computer. And by they, Party meant Kobra, actually. They’d brought some sort of USB key or whatever that let Kobra remotely access BL/ind’s computer. Their brother had tried explaining that, “No Party, the key doesn’t do anything, it’s the program that’s on the key that you have to install on the computer that’s going to do something,” but Party had tuned him out after he’d first said, “No Party.” They were content in doing whatever he wanted them to do without understanding why.

“Ok, you’re good,” Party whispered into their radio, giving Kobra the green light for his informatic genius.

Party watched the little cursor move on the screen without them having to touch the mouse. They tried to keep up with the code Kobra was typing, too, but it just wasn’t as entertaining. They didn’t understand what it meant and it made them feel stupid, so they went back to chasing the cursor with their eyes.

A few minutes later, the screens showing the camera footage had been set to the previous week. “Did you change it to today’s date?” Party asked, and they didn’t have to see him to know Kobra was rolling his eyes.

“You’re right there, why don’t you check for yourself, smartass.” Party didn’t answer, squinting at the screens. “For fuck’s sake, Party, are you really looking? Of course I changed it, idiot!”

Pettily, they turned off the radio. They would've had to do it soon anyway: sneaking around Better Living wouldn’t be easy with Kobra whining all over the place. They simply hadn’t said a polite goodbye.

Hm. Maybe that was what their ex-girlfriend had meant when she’d said it was impossible to communicate with them.

Granted, they’d never been good at the whole relationship thing. Being a superhero meant that they had to keep a huge part of themself secret, which, in turn, meant communication quickly became an issue and they would get lost in the lies, hence why no strings attached was easier for them. Though, to be fair, she’d had the whole secret thing down as well. Party might’ve been secretive, but at least they hadn’t cheated on her for the last three months of their relationship before calling it quits and blaming it on her. Unlike someone .

Anyway! Party took a peek outside the control room. Two employees turned the corner, and then it was all clear. They ran for the nearest flower pot, crouching behind it until the open space was empty again.

They made their way through the building by running and hiding behind objects and corners, breathing out a sigh of relief when they reached Korse’s office. He was going down.

They pried the door open, satisfied when the room came up empty. According to the data Kobra had hacked, he was out on lunch break and then a meeting, but one could never be too certain, especially when it came to BL/ind.

It was almost insulting how easy finding dirt was. If they’d known, they would’ve planned this way sooner. Not that this was legal in any way, but the mob arguably wasn’t any more legal, so it canceled out.

Besides. The government liked superheroes. Killjoy did their work for them, so they were kind of allowed to do whatever without them batting an eye. Party chuckled to themself: maybe that was what pretty boy had meant when he’d badmouthed superheroes. However, just like their cheating ex-girlfriend, he was also a massive hypocrite, because his life had been saved by a superhero. Twice.

Party went back to snapping pictures of the documents in Korse’s office. They couldn’t risk taking the papers: BL/ind would notice and thus have time to cook up an excuse the authorities would eat right up. As much as they enjoyed superheroes doing their job, they loved being agreeable more than anything: if they saw the opportunity to nod and go along, you could bet your ass they would take it.

Satisfied by their findings—it couldn’t get more incriminating than that—they stepped out of the office, headed for the nearest vent. Again. 

They only had one last open space to run across. While there weren’t any employees walking by, there also wasn’t anything to hide behind, so they would have to be fast. They checked one last time that they could safely cross before sprinting across the distance.

They were halfway across the space when they crashed into someone, the both of them falling to the floor. Party looked up, dazed, to see the stranger jumping to their feet. Except that Party must’ve hit their head harder than they’d thought, because in front of them stood no stranger.

Suddenly very alarmed at the implications behind the situation, they scrambled to their feet. The universe had to be laughing at their expanse. It had to be a massive fucking prank.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” both them and Ghoul asked at the same time, seemingly as startled as the other.

Party crossed their arms. “You answer first.”

“Fine,” Ghoul relented. “But let’s get out of here, first.” He grabbed them by the wrist, pulling them towards the nearest door. It stepped aside so Party could step in first. They shot them a suspicious glance, but obliged nonetheless. Ghoul followed and closed the door.

“So. Spill.”

Ghoul chuckled. “Wow, you’re not even going to try to guess?”

“We don’t have time!” Party pressed. “I’ve got to bring this back to HQ,” they explained, brandishing their cellphone, before realizing they’d played themself. “Wait.”

The other’s chuckles turned into full on laughter. “Did you seriously just tell me yourself why you were here? Unprompted?” Party miserably nodded, and Ghoul took pity on them, asking them what was on the phone instead of laughing some more.

“Just some evidence to take BL/ind down. By the way you keep targeting them, you either know how shit they actually are, or you just … or you’re just that insufferable.” Or, a third option they didn’t want to consider: Ghoul worked hand in hand with BL/ind, which made Party was incredibly stupid.

Ghoul laughed again, but it wasn’t directed at them, this time. “Why not both? And you’re wrong, by the way.”

“Huh?” 

“You’re wrong about me targeting BL/ind. I’m not targeting Better Living. I’m targeting Korse.” Oh. So not working with BL/ind. That was a relief.

Party frowned. “Isn’t that, like, potato potahto?”

“Ugh. Yes, but actually no, y’know?” Ghoul let go of their wrist to wave his arms around, struggling to elaborate. No, Party did not, in fact, know. They grabbed their own wrist, trying to replace Ghoul’s hand’s warmth. They would’ve loved to pry, but Ghoul’s head snapped up. “What time is it?”

Party looked at their cellphone before placing it back in their suit’s inner pocket as gracefully as they could. Which wasn’t an easy feat, considering that the suit was skin tight. “Um. Four thirty, why?”

“Oh!” Ghoul exclaimed, giddy, and Party felt a wave of stress hit them. “We don’t have much time. Let’s go, darling!” 

Party knew it was teasing, but they had to try really hard not to latch onto Ghoul calling them darling. He didn’t leave them much time to dwell on it, once again taking their wrist as it guided them outside the room and through the open space.

They thought he would stop to check for people passing by once they’d crossed the open space, but Ghoul obviously didn’t have the same thing in mind: it raced right in front of confused—and then panicked—employees, Party in its unwilling tow.

“Ghoul, wait!” they tried to protest, but Ghoul laughed in what could only be described as a maniacal way.

All around them, employees ran to nearby guards, who in turn yelled in their radios, trying—and failing—to get the alarms to work. Well, Kobra had obviously come through.

Oh, fuck. Kobra. He was going to be so pissed. Trying to prevent their untimely death at the hands of their brother, they turned on their radio with their free hand. “Hey, Kobes?”

“Why is everyone screaming? What the fuck did you do?”

“Not their fault!” Ghoul butted in, and if looks could kill, Party would’ve have murdered the fuck out of him right there and then. Sadly, their eyes couldn’t quite kill, so they had to settle on glaring at him in the hopes that it would shut the fuck up.

“... Who was that…?”

“Uhh…. Tell you later, Kobes! For now, let’s say I just really need a ride out of here,” they told him just as they heard the first gunshots.

“Wha—”

Party turned off the radio and glared at Ghoul some more. “ Why .”

It completely ignored their question to ask one of his own. “Who’s Kobes?”

“Could you fucking gossip at a later time?” they asked, ducking as they dodged a bullet. 

Ghoul didn’t answer. Instead, he dragged the two of them to an even more crowded hallway.

“What the fuck are you even doing?” Party asked, seething. “Do you at least know where you’re going?”

“Sure,” Ghoul replied, nonchalant even through all of the gunshots, smoke bombs and guards. “Quickest way out.” 

As if that explained anything. Party still didn’t know why they had to leave quickly in the first place. Certainly, nothing warranted being seen by so many people. Mob people with weapons, too.

They had to give Ghoul a point, though. Two turns of the corner later, they were outside of the building, standing on a bridge Party instantly recognized. “You brought us to the main entrance?” they yelled in disbelief.

Ghoul brought a finger up to Party’s mouth, shushing them. Party spluttered, not knowing whether to be confused or offended. Or both. Probably both.

“You’ll see in three, two, one!”

When nothing happened, Party went back to glaring at it.

He chuckled nervously. “One….”

Annoyed, they made a move to cross their arms together again, but Ghoul was still holding their wrist. “What even is supposed to—”

BOOM!

Even from afar, the impact sent Party and Ghoul flying. It was only when their ears started ringing and that they smelled smoke that they understood what had happened. They opened their eyes, dazed once again. Admittedly more than when they’d just fast crashed into Ghoul earlier in the open space.

Speaking of Ghoul. The thought of it  snapped them out of their thoughts and they scrambled to their wobbly feet. Had the bastard escaped? They did a whole 360, finding the villain laughing on the pavement.

Furious, Party walked to him. “What the actual fuck? You could’ve killed us!”

Ghoul raised weak fingerguns at them. “But I didn’t,” it singsang.

The small respite Ghoul’s explosion had allowed them was short-lived: they hadn’t been the only ones to make it out of the building. Many guards had, too, and just like that, they were being shot at again.

Where was that Kobra lift?

Party pulled Ghoul to his feet, and it was their turn to carry the other one around. They needed to get closer to the main road. There was too much surveillance at the bridge’s entrance for anyone from Killjoy to make it through. If only they could just cross the bridge….

On their right, Ghoul cried out as it collapsed to the ground.

“ Ghoul !”

They dropped to their knees next to the fallen boy. Amidst all the noise, they hadn’t heard the gunshot, but here Ghoul was, his blood staining his mask red.

Alarmed, they pressed their fingers to the side of its head, growing only more worried when they came out red and wet and hot. So it wasn’t anyone’s else’s blood; it really was his.

Party looked up, still cradling Ghoul’s body as the crowd of guards closed in. “Ghoul. Ghoul, you have to wake up !”

Ghoul only mumbled incohesively. They glanced at the guards, who were only getting closer, hands tight on their guns, ready to shoot. Desperate, they turned their eyes to the bridge’s railing, sparing only a split second to think before carrying Ghoul bridal style all the way to the edge.

“Stop them!” a guard yelled as she brandished her gun, and that was all the encouragement Party needed to jump overboard, holding Ghoul tight as they plummeted at high speed towards the water.

Chapter Text

Party Poison was drowning.

They came to their senses, unaware of anything except the fact that they had run out of air and that it burned . They tried to breathe, but only water filled their lungs.

Their eyes snapped open, but they couldn’t see anything. They tried to scream, but no sound came out. They flailed around, desperate, before their memories kicked back in. The mission. The bomb. The bridge. Ghoul .

Party kicked their way to the surface, coughing out all the water they could. They could see the bridge in the far distance. How long had they been out?

They patted the water around them, trying to find Ghoul, but their hands didn’t land on anything solid. “Ghoul?” they screamed. “Ghoul, where are you?”

They scoured the surface, trying to see something—anything—that resembled Ghoul, panic creeping its way into their brain when they couldn’t find him. They swam to the shore, hoping they might get a better view from the land.

“Ghoul!” they yelled again, to no avail. It was nowhere to be found.

They looked back at the water, and their eyes caught something on the rocks near the shore. Party ran as fast as their tired legs could carry. “Ghoul?”

It was him, they realized with a sigh of relief. He was out of it, sure, but its heart was beating and he was breathing, somehow. “You lucky bastard,” they laughed,exhausted, wiping tears from their wet face. They didn’t even know why they were so worked up over him. Trauma bonding, maybe. Probably.

Right, it had been hit. Presumably by a bullet, but its mask was barely damaged, so it must’ve only grazed him. They tried to move the mask a bit, but they couldn’t access the wound correctly. Not only that, but it seemed like he’d gotten hurt in his fall to the pavement, too.

Party hesitated, but ultimately took its mask off. Ghoul could be mad at them all it wanted once it was safe, but now they were hurt and unconscious, so Party called the shots, Killjoy rules be damned.

“ Pretty boy ?” they whispered. Their thoughts were racing, but they decided they would process the new information after they’d both gotten to safety. Ghoul—or pretty boy, Party didn’t know anymore—was still bleeding. The two of them couldn’t stay exposed on the beach forever, and they still needed to bandage him before they could move it.

They ripped out a piece of their suit, sending an apology to Kobra in their head. The bandage was nothing fancy—as a matter of fact, it was quite pathetic, but it would have to do for the time being.

For the second time that day, they had to pick Ghoul up, their arms protesting under the effort. Who knew almost drowning could suck out so much of your energy?

The way out of the beach was uphill, and Party felt their knees buckle as they trekked up. Walking on their own was hard enough as it was—adding a whole other human being who wasn’t supporting his own weight in any way made it near impossible to walk.

They considered their options: HQ and Party’s place were both out of the way, for obvious reasons. Killjoy HQ was the last place they could bring Ghoul, and Kobra lived with them. The answer came when they reached a street—they knew that name! Their grand-aunt’s house was only a few blocks away.

The only issue was walking those few blocks unnoticed. Luckily, the sun had totally gone down while they’d both been in the water—again, the question of just how long they’d been out of it begged to be asked—so it made the whole ordeal easier. As long as they avoided big crowds, they should be safe. It wasn’t the most active neighborhood anyway. Besides, they were in a big city: everyone who lived there had learned long ago to live and let live.

Party wondered what their grand-aunt would think of them if she hadn’t kicked the bucket a few years ago. She probably would’ve disapproved, they thought as they let a wanted criminal in her condo.

To be fair, the criminal was passed out and in need of medical attention, so maybe she would understand. Speaking of medical attention, they walked to what used to be the living room. They’d repurposed the condo into a sort of personal warehouse for superhero equipment and medical kits a few years ago, and it was finally coming in handy. They’d never thought of mentioning it to Kobra, so he shouldn’t come looking for them there.

It wasn’t like they’d kept it a secret on purpose: they’d started to bring some stuff they didn’t need over at some point, and they’d kept it up over the years until they’d decided to finally bring over useful things in case of an emergency. It had been a gradual change, and it had never seemed important enough to mention. The thought that they might actually use it one day had never even seriously crossed their mind until they’d read that street sign.

They walked back to their old room, smiling at Ghoul’s peaceful sleeping form. A boy in their bed? If not for the whole criminal thing, that would be just the thing to send their grand-aunt rolling in her grave.

Party treated Ghoul’s injuries—with actual medical supplies this time—seeking any sign of it waking up. It didn’t come, though, and Party left to get changed out of their wet and cold suit and into real clothes.

They brought a chair from the kitchen into the bedroom, placing it next to the bed so they could watch over Ghoul as it slept, ready to help if his condition changed. He looked so calm. Not that they’d known it was it at the time, but every time they’d seen him without his mask, it had been so angry, mocking or annoyed. But there, sleeping? He was like a statue carved out from the finest stone; ethereal. They let their eyes roam its relaxed face, from the scar on the side of its mouth to the stray strands of hair delicately falling over his forehead. It was only so they could recognize him easier next time, they told themselves as they fought the urge to tuck his hair behind his ears. Their superhero duties and all that.

Party waited, but Ghoul didn’t move. Their eyes started to close on their own, and, eventually, they couldn’t find the strength to open them.

♡

Party woke up to the sound of someone shuffling. Confused, they looked around, trying to locate themself. Had they fallen asleep on a chair? Were they at their grand-aunt’s ?

The mattress creaked, and they frowned.

“Where am I?” they heard vaguely, still not quite free from sleep’s tendrils. “Pois?” the voice said again. Who— oh .

Ohhhh!

The sleepy daze they had been in disappeared, replaced by the previous evening’s events. They turned to ghoul, smiling in the most welcoming way they could muster so as to not freak it out more than he probably was. “Hey, you’re awake!” they said softly. “Thank god,” they added, no louder than a breath.

“Your mask…” Ghoul mumbled, cocking its head. Then, his eyes widened, its wake-up being just as brutal as Party’s had. “My mask!” he exclaimed, suddenly fully awake, the peaceful features gone from its face.

He jumped to its feet and wobbled. He would’ve fallen back down if Party hadn’t scrambled to catch and steady him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay! I’m sorry, I had to.”

Ghoul sat back down on the bed, nervously toying with the blanket. Even with the mask, his body movement had always been expressive, but without it, its expressions were bare on his face. He was easy to read, Party marveled, and that made him seem so much more vulnerable than the villain he played behind the mask.

Party caught themself staring and forced themself back in check. Maybe Ghoul wasn’t so easy to read normally. Maybe, like Party, it was too exhausted to keep a facade up. Or maybe they were both really bad at secrets without a mask to do it for them.

Nah, it had to be the sleep, they decided. They usually had more self-control. Their helpless staring was just pathetic.

“I’ll go get you some food and then I’ll check on your bandages, that alright?” they asked, scared they were overstepping boundaries.

Ghoul bit his lip, looking down before nodding.

As they closed the door, it spoke up. “This—this doesn’t change anything.” Party frowned, but didn’t say anything, instead making their way to the kitchen.

The pantry was empty except for a bunch of canned food. They winced at the selection of beans, corn and peas. Surely there had to be something more interesting?

They dug around, their fingers closing around a can of fruit salad. It wasn’t a five star hotel breakfast, but it would have to do. All Ghoul needed was something to eat so he could regain some strength.

They grabbed a can opener and a spoon before walking back to the bedroom, knocking before entering. They weren't exactly sure why they had: there wasn’t much Ghoul could be doing that would’ve made Party need to wait, but they figured it was at least ten times more stressed and uncomfortable than they were right now, so if knocking could make him feel just a teeny tiny bit better, then knock they would.

“Is that… fruit salad?” Ghoul asked, squinting.

“Erm, yeah? Is that bad?” they panicked. Fuck, what if Ghoul didn’t like fruit salad? What if it was allergic? Oh fuck, what if they’d saved him from imminent death only to kill him the morning after with a fucking can of fruit?

“No, it’s alright,” Ghoul chuckled lightly, and Party’s head spun a bit at the sound. What the fuck. “I was just surprised. I haven’t eaten any in so long.”

He seemed lost in thought, so Party didn’t pry. They let him finish his fruit in peace before asking to see his bandages. “I’ll just wash the wound and replace the bandages, if you don’t mind.”

“Are you the one who—” Ghoul mimed wrapping a bandage around its head, and Party smiled at his antics. “Never mind, of course you are. Who else? Sorry, I’m still a bit out of it.”

“It’s okay,” Party assured it. “Aaand I’m done. How do you feel?”

Ghoul smiled at them as it raised a thumb, and maybe Party was concussed, or something, because that sight had no business making their head spin.

“What happened?” it whispered, barely breaking the silence that had settled into the room.

“How much do you remember?”

“Um, the bridge? I mean, the explosion, obviously.” He laughed a bit at that. “I could’ve planned it for five. Would’ve given us more time right?”

Party would’ve elbowed it, but that would’ve meant coming closer, and there was no way they were stepping any closer right now, not when just the sight of him was almost too much.

“But yeah. The explosion. And then… I don’t really know, it’s all a big blur.”

“Oh. well, you were hit, though you probably gathered as much already, what with the bandage and all.” God, they were rambling. Why were they even rambling? They weren't a rambly person. “And, um, I didn’t have time to cross the bridge, so I acted on a whim and took us down the bridge?”

Ghoul narrowed his eyes. “You… jumped ?”

Party didn’t like the scrutiny. “I didn’t have a better idea, and you weren’t all that useful.”

“Weren’t you going on and on about I’d almost killed you right before that?” Ghoul asked, teasing, and Party gaped at it.

“That was different, that—you almost killed us .”

Ghoul stayed silent, its green eyes meeting theirs. They’d never noticed how vibrant they were. Party didn’t dare breathe, afraid to break the spell.

“What then?”

“Huh?”

“After the bridge. What then?”

Party chuckled, looking down self-consciously. “I don’t know. I passed out.” Ghoul laughed again, and it was clearly directed at them this time, but Party couldn’t find it in themself to be annoyed or anything. They only stared.

“I mean, I woke up again, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Ghoul parroted, and Party glanced at it to see its teasing expression.

“Hey, now. You’d already washed up on the shore when I did. From there, I brought you here and… yeah. Sorry about the mask, by the way. I tried not to take it off, but….”

They didn’t tell Ghoul about the panic when they thought they’d lost him. There were some things it didn’t need to know.

“You had to, I get it,” Ghoul said, and it took them a while to remember he meant the mask. “I probably would’ve done the same. Not that your mask hides much, so I most likely would’ve been fine without taking it off. The only reason no one recognizes you is because their attention is drawn to that awful yellow and polka dots mix.”

Oh. Oh, so now Ghoul had an issue with fashion? “You’re one to talk! You and your ridiculous outfit!”

“Well, thanks,” it said, more serious. “For saving my life, I mean.”

Party looked away, losing the fight against their face turning hot. “Thanks for not dying.”

‘This doesn’t change anything,’ Ghoul had said, but it felt as though everything had.

Chapter Text

Ghoul was gone.

Part of Party had expected it, but a smaller part couldn’t help but feel… disappointed. It had been foolish to believe he would stick around.

Party had left to buy actual food and more bandages and, when they’d come back, Ghoul was nowhere to be found, the not quite closed bedroom window the only confirmation that it had left. The killjoy sat down on their bed, loosely hanging onto the warm bag of takeout.

If their life was a movie, this would be the point where they’d realize that their bed still smelled like Ghoul, but the reality was that it only smelled like water. They set the food down on the bed. They’d bring it to Kobra later.

God, Kobra. He must be worried sick , Party realized. It had already been a day since they’d last checked in with him.

They felt guilt wash over them. Now that Ghoul had left, now that the situation wasn’t critical, they were finally coming to their senses. As far as Kobra knew, Party was missing. As far as anyone knew, actually. Well. Anyone but Ghoul, but Party doubted it was eager to announce to the world that he’d spent the last twenty-four hours with them. It kind of went against the whole supervillain thing.

The spell had been broken. The little bubble of peace had burst, and it was time to go back to life as it normally was. They would get home, take the longest shower they’d ever taken, and when they’d wake up the next day, Ghoul would be their enemy again.

They’d run out of excuses not to catch him. Ghoul had been lenient, twice, and Party had returned the favor. They were even.

Except that Party didn’t want them to be. Their ridiculous heart had grown a will of its own despite their head’s rational warnings, and now Party wished that Ghoul still held something over them, anything that would justify not putting him away.

They vehemently shook their head, trying to clear out their confused thoughts. They just needed to get home and forget about all this. They would see clearly in the morning.

Party grabbed their suit and mask, and something fell to the carpeted floor with a muffled thunk . They froze, expecting the worst, before remembering the cellphone. The cellphone that was definitely toast—there was simply no way that it could’ve survived the explosion; the fall; the water . They tried to turn it on, and their fears were confirmed: the screen remained blank.

They shoved it down their civilian outfit pocket. Hopefully, Kobra could salvage the data. Speaking of Kobra, they really needed to get home. He’d probably tried calling them countless times, too. Not that Party could’ve answered, even if they hadn’t been by Ghoul’s side the entire day.

Their superhero stuff packed away in a bag, they walked home, thinking of what they would tell Kobra.

They definitely weren’t telling him about Ghoul. They weren’t ready to unpack that. Not to themself, and much less to Kobra. Party still couldn’t wrap their head around the fact that Ghoul and the asshole that Kobra called pretty boy were the one and the same.

They supposed it made sense: they were both small and they both hated superheroes. Party probably should’ve connected the dots faster, but hindsight was what it was. They really ought to stop referring to them as two different people, though.

Which brought them back to the question of what they would tell Kobra. They had disappeared for an entire day, and Kobra wouldn’t let that slide without a damn good explanation. An explanation Party couldn’t give him.

‘Oh hey Kobes! Went missing? Oh, no, I was just hanging out with my good buddy archnemesis Ghoul! Remember it?’

Yeah. That was not going to do it.

They groaned, and looked up to find out they were already home. They’d been so lost in thought, their legs had gone on autopilot mode and brought them to their apartment before they could find an acceptable excuse as to why they hadn’t shown a proof of life.

Time to face the music, they decided, knocking on the door because of course they’d lost their house key. Their landlord was so going to kill them. If Kobra didn’t first, that was.

“If you’re here to try and sell me something, I don’t want it— Pois ?”

“Heyyy Kobes,” Party weakly said, opening up their arms.

Kobra didn’t speak, throwing himself in their arms. “I thought you were dead!” he yelled, and, yep, that was a conversation they needed to have inside, away from any potential eavesdroppers.

Closing their arms around their brother, they maneuvered him into the apartment, shutting the door behind them.

“I thought you were dead,” Kobra repeated, tears pooling in his eyes. “We came to get you and—and the explosion….”

Party stared with wide eyes as their younger sibling let out a distressed sob. “I really thought we’d lost you,” he said, his voice breaking at the same time Party’s heart did.

“Hey, no, I’m fine. I’m right here, Kobes. I’m not going anywhere,” they assured him, sitting the both of them down on the sofa so they could rub soothing circles in his back.

Kobra wiped away his tears and asked the question Party had been dreaded. “What hap—how are you even here? What happened?”

Party looked down, their red hair falling in front of their eyes. “I was outside when the explosion hit. I was on the bridge, and I was getting shot at, so I jumped.”

“You jumped?” All of a sudden, Kobra sadness vanished, replaced with genuine concern. “Party, you had no idea how deep that water was! That was such a stupid move—you could’ve died!”

“I didn’t have a choice!” they protested. Kobra eyed them, doubtful. He would’ve understood if he’d had all the facts, Party thought. “I was surrounded, Kobes. My entire job depends on my ability to make split second decisions, and that’s what I did.”

Kobra kept quiet.

“I brought you food?” Party offered, and their brother couldn’t resist. “Listen, I’m alive now. That’s what matters. I can’t worry about the hypotheticals, Kobes. I can’t afford to second guess every single one of the decisions I make as a superhero, because there are always so many ways things could go wrong. The important part is that I’ve been fine in the past, and I’m fine now.”

Their sibling lowered their head. “I know that, but yesterday was different, Pois. You were off the grid for an entire day. We tried to force answers out of Better Living, but they kept blaming us for the explosion and denied any responsibility for what had happened. Jet and I really thought you were a goner.”

“My phone died. It didn’t take too well to water.” They gave him the device. “There. See if you can salvage anything. The evidence may be gone. Sorry.”

“Screw the evidence! You matter more to me than evidence, Party. Jesus .”

♡

Kobra maybe didn’t care about the evidence, but Party sure did, they thought a few days later.

Not that their sibling hadn’t been able to do his science-tech-magic and salvage the pictures on Party’s phone. No, what Party wished could’ve been preserved weren’t the pictures, but rather the actual papers they’d photographed.

Killjoy had tried to present the photos as evidence so that they could get Korse convicted, but Better Living Industries had augmented that, since their skyscraper had blown up, there was no way to prove or disprove what Killjoy was accusing them of. It was a tragedy, BL/ind had said: they would’ve loved to show their innocence. All Killjoy had were false accusations that lay in a pile of ash and debris.

“How convenient,” Party had mumbled. It was a good thing for Ghoul that they believed him when it swore it wanted Korse’s demise because, so far, its actions screamed the contrary.

BL/ind had received a slap on the wrist and a government official had been hired to look over their future operations, but who was to say this official wasn’t part of their ranks? All it meant was that BL/ind would be more careful in covering up their tracks.

“Should we leak the pictures?” Kobra asked Party and Jet one night. “I can erase any ties back to us.”

Jet sighed. “You know as well as we do that that would only send civilians into a frenzy. They’d panic all over the street and riot and get hurt. The whole point of the operation was not to go public until Korse was safely locked away. We don’t want civvies to start playing the heroes. No matter how tempting leaking the pictures sound,” she admitted.

“I know,” Kobra said, defeated. “A boy can dream.”

“Ugh,” Jet groaned. “I bet BL/ind bombed their own building, too. Only they could be twisted enough to make their evidence vanish this way.”

Party looked at her with wide eyes. In the days it had been since the failed mission, they thought that the truth about Ghoul being there would’ve washed up. Evidently, it hadn’t.

They guessed it made sense, in a way: Better Living hadn’t mentioned their presence either, even when Killjoy had accused them of Party’s disappearance. They’d vaguely acknowledged their presence when they’d blamed the explosion on the killjoys, but not once was the name ‘Party Poison’ muttered. Maybe, in all the chaos, they hadn’t had the chance to take a good look at Ghoul. He’d been with Party, after all, so perhaps they’d mistaken it for a superhero.

That bastard really had gotten away with it, they thought. Oddly enough, they couldn’t seem to be angered by the fact, and the insult sounded more endearing than an actual insult in their head.

Maybe they should get checked for a concussion again. Two opinions had never hurt anyone.

“Hello?” Jet said, waving a hand in front of their eyes. “Earth to Party Poison? You’ve been staring into space for like five minutes.”

“Two minutes and thirty three seconds,” Kobra clarified. “Do better.”

“Are you alright?” Jet asked when they didn’t answer. “Is this about what happened at BL/ind? You know no one blames you, right?”

For once, Party agreed with her, in the sense that there wasn’t anything they could’ve done to prevent the explosion at Better Living. They didn’t regret the way they’d acted: the only other way they could’ve made it out of the place was by leaving Ghoul behind, at the hands of BL/ind, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted—not Ghoul, not Party, and certainly not Killjoy. Ghoul was too valuable to fall in the hands of their common enemy. Besides, there was no guarantee they would’ve been able to escape through the bridge access, either. They’d been dramatically outnumbered. No, they knew they’d made the right call.

“It’s not that,” Party told the two of them, shaking their head. “It’s silly.”

And it was silly. Ghoul had made it plenty clear he wanted things to stay the same when it had left Party’s grand-aunt’s place. Oh, and when he’d explicitly told Party that what had happened wouldn’t change anything.

“Oh,” Kobra laughed, and Party really didn’t like the glee in his eyes. “I know that look. Matter ‘fact, I know what this is about,” he claimed.

Both Party and Jet stared at Kobra, albeit with very different expressions. While Party was glaring at their brother, Jet was looking at him expectantly.

“Well, are you gonna stand there all day looking proud?” Jet pressed him. “Come on, man, spit it out!”

“Alright, alright,” Kobra relented, and his grin meant nothing good. “Party’s got a special someone . That is a hundred percent their pining face.”

“What?!” Party exclaimed, insulted. “That is so not true. And I don’t have a pining face, for fuck’s sake, Kobes!”

Jet shrieked happily. “Oh my God, Kobra, I see it. Oh man, you’re right—they’ve got it bad .”

Party scowled at their traitorous friends. They weren’t even seeing anyone. They weren’t even thinking about anything romantic! And they’d know: romance was the last thing on their mind. They had too much on their plate as it was, what with Ghoul and… well, and Ghoul, but that was a pretty big thing that was happening in their life right now, so forgive them for focusing on that.

It wasn’t every other day that you found out that your archnemesis was also the annoyingly infuriating shithead that seemed to resent you more every time you saved his life.

“You just did it again!” Jet lightheartedly accused them.

Under the table, they tightened their fists, fighting to keep the raging blush on their face at bay. A blush that didn’t prove anything, by the way! It was simply a normal reaction to embarrassment. Based on something entirely inaccurate, dared they add. “There is no ‘special someone’ in my life,” they insisted, glaring at kobra in a defying way. “So stop looking at me like that!”

The ‘that’ in question was insulting: Kobra was barely holding in his laughter, looking at them in a mix of pity, mocking, and amusement. ‘I know you better than you know yourself,’ his eyes said, and Party disrespectfully disagreed. They knew themself just fine, just as they knew Jet and Kobra were wrong about this. However, there was no way of explaining this to them without telling them about every Ghoul encounters and details they’d kept to themself, so Party had dug a pretty grave for themself there.

“I hate you all,” they grumbled. “Trust me, if something was happening love life-wise, you guys would be the first to know about it.”

Kobra grinned. “Oh, we know .”

Chapter Text

Ever since Party’s failed evidence mission, things had been… quiet. BL/ind was being overly cautious, not causing anything worth their attention, and Ghoul hadn’t made an appearance. It was like the whole world had stopped, leaving Party stuck in the frozen aftermath.

They spent every night canvassing the city, hoping to catch sight of the boy, but came out empty handed each time. No other superheroes had run into it, either. Party was almost worried: he’d been alright when he’d left their grand-aunt’s, but maybe the injury hadn’t healed properly. They constantly had to remind themself that the wound wasn’t deep. Ghoul was probably just scared. He had no way of knowing Party wouldn’t turn it in. Which they hadn’t, and wouldn’t. Something Party could tell it, if only he’d reappear.

To make matters worse, not only were things too quiet, but Kobra and Jet were having the time of their lives mercilessly teasing them about a crush they didn’t have. No matter how many times Party reminded them that they weren't twelve, they didn’t get crushes , Kobra, their friends didn’t buy it.

So it was to escape them that Party found themself at the small coffee shop near Killjoy HQ. It had cute plants and no annoying friends, so Party considered it a win-win situation.

It became a win-win-win situation when they noticed a small figure in a booth at the back of the shop. Out of all the places and circumstances in which Party had expected to see Ghoul again, something as mundane as a coffee shop hadn’t been it. Though they supposed it made sense: each time they’d run into civilian Ghoul had been in the shop’s vicinity.

Careful not to spook it, they walked up to him, smiling brightly. Ghoul must’ve heard them coming, because its head snapped up. The colors drained from its face as he whispered, “Oh shit.”

Before Party could even say something, he jumped out of the booth, sprinting out of the coffee shop. Gaping, Party took three seconds too long to run after it.

“G—Wait!” they cried out after him, only barely reminding themself not to call him by his villain alias.

Ghoul might have had desperation on its side, but Party not only had it too, they also had long legs. After way too much chasing across the street for their liking, their hand closed around Ghoul’s arm.

“Would you fucking stop for five seconds?” they asked, annoyed.

“Sorry for not wanting to be fucking arrested,” Ghoul replied with a scowl.

Party dropped his arm, taken by surprise. “Why would I arrest you?”

Ghoul looked at them like they’d asked the stupidest question in the history of the entire universe. “Are you serious right now? Why wouldn’t you arrest a class five criminal is the question you should be asking.”

Oh, yeah. That. They supposed Ghoul’s mistrust wasn’t misplaced. He wasn’t officially class five, seeing as no one knew he’d been the one to blow up the BL/ind building, but both of them knew that as soon as the truth got out, Ghoul would get bumped up a class.

Party smirked, crossing their arms. “Why would I arrest a civilian peacefully drinking a cup of coffee?”

“ Party. ”

They sat down on the street bench behind them, pulling Ghoul along. “I don’t even have my mask on. I’m just as much of a civilian as you right now. I won’t go around revealing my identity to everyone just to arrest you. Don’t think so highly of yourself. Besides, no one knows you were at Better Living Industries, so you’re not class five yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself. And here I thought we superheroes were the ones supposed to have a big head,” they concluded, elbowing the smaller one.

“Ha-ha,” Ghoul deadpanned.

“Don’t ‘ha-ha’ me, they’re your own words.”

Ghoul shook his head. “Yeah, you were never supposed to know that.”

They really weren’t. It was crazy how different things were from what they’d imagined they would be. They’d thought capturing Ghoul would be a handful of days’ affair, but it had turned into so much more. If you’d told them about a month ago that they would end up having a chat with Ghoul on a city bench, both out of uniform and aware of just who exactly the other was, they never would've believed you. And yet, here they were.

Maybe a past version of them would’ve arrested Ghoul right there, right then. A younger version of them, when they were still a rookie. A more righteous version, one that hadn’t survived an escape from a common enemy with the very same person they were sitting next to.

Which reminded them. “Can I?”

Ghoul cocked its head, confused. “Arrest me? No. Anything else, sure.”

Party moved the hair out of his face, searching for the hopefully healed injury on the side of its head. The scab was almost all gone, leaving only a faint white line peppered with some dried blood.

Their (new) cellphone rang, and both them and Ghoul jumped.

“Um, sorry,” they excused themself, picking up the call. “ Brother ,” they mouthed to Ghoul.

Ghoul smiled as he got up. Party desperately wanted to reach out, but Ghoul motioned for them to stay put. “I’ve got to get going anyway,” he assured them.

“Oh! Of course, yeah. Sorry. See you?” Should they be saying ‘see you’? Nine times out of ten, they only ever saw themselves when they were fighting. 

Ghoul chuckled. “You’re a fucking dork. Until next time, Pois.”

Party’s brain stopped working. When had he picked up that nickname? Only Kobra ever called them that. Kobra, who Ghoul had heard over on the radio or their phone. Kobra, who was currently on the phone with them.

“Hey, Kobes! Sorry, I was saying bye to a friend.”

Kobra snickered. “Sure, Pois: ‘Oh! Of course, yeah. Sorry. See you?’? That was fucking pathetic. Say hi to your date for me next time, by the way. Or, y’know, put your phone on silent.”

“ What ? Kobra, that was not a date. We ran into each other so we caught up with each other.” Or rather, ran after the other, Party amusedly thought to themself. “I do put my phone on silent when I’m on dates. Just so you know.”

Not that they had been on any dates lately, but their point still stood. They weren’t the best at relationships, but they still met the bare minimum.

“Oh, alright, sorry,” Kobra mocked. “My bad for interrupting your discussion with your huge, massive crush that you weren’t on a date with, then.”

“You are wrong, and I hate you. Now, did you just call me to make fun of me or…?”

“Oh, I just wanted you to bring me a pretzel while you were out.”

Party opened their mouth to answer. Closed it. Opened it again. They couldn’t come up with a better answer than incoherent screaming. “You couldn’t have texted me that?” they decided on, exasperated. “I was having a perfectly nice talk with someone before you called and now he’s gone, so thanks for that!”

Kobra gasped, and Party wanted to take back everything they’d ever said ever. “So it’s a boy, then!”

“What? No!” Party groaned.

“So… it’s not a boy? It’s a person, then!”

“No! I mean, yeah, but you know that’s not what I meant by that. It’s just not what you think it is. It is a person, it is a boy, it’s just not a fucking date. Or crush.”

“Fine,” Kobra surrendered. “Be boring. But be boring with a pretzel for me okay thanks bye love you!”

Their brother ended the call on that, and Party huffed, rolling their eyes. Now he was just being ridiculous. First, implying they had a crush, and now, implying they had a crush on Ghoul ? 

Ridiculous .

♡

In hindsight, it might have been a bad idea to tell Ghoul that he wasn’t wanted for the BL/ind explosion. Not even a week after their conversation on the bench, he was out and about in the city, back to his petty crimes.

“Can’t say I missed him,” Jet grumbled.

“He could’ve stayed gone, for all I care,” Kobra agreed.

“Um, yeah, what you said,” Party added when they looked at them expectantly. “Screw him.”

“Wow, you look pretty down. Did something happen with your date?” Jet teased them, cracking a smile.

Party inhaled. Exhaled. “Jet, I love you. Don’t become Kobra, please. One little sibling is enough for me.”

“They’re deflecting,” Kobra theatrically whispered to Jet.

They narrowed their eyes at him. “No, nothing happened. Because nothing has been happening in the first place . I’m gonna go deal with Ghoul, now,” they announced.

All they could hear as they slammed the door behind them was the irritating sound of Jet and Kobra’s laughter.

Luckily for them, Ghoul had chosen a spot close to HQ for its misdemeanor, so Party didn’t have much time to stay angry.

It was weird, seeing it back in the mask again. They hadn’t seen him in it ever since they’d removed it from its face, and yet there it was, staring down at them with that weird zombie stare.

“Party!” it greeted, waving at them. “I see you’ve come to try and fail at catching me again!”

“Hi Party. Nice to see you, Party. How have you been, Party? Good? Oh me too, thanks, Party.”

Ghoul snorted, and Party didn’t understand how he did it. Not snorting, that was, but going on with life as though nothing had happened. It was like the day they’d shared didn’t exist.

They didn’t know why they’d thought things would change. In the grand scheme of things, one day meant nothing, and yet… and yet Party couldn’t seem to find in themself the determination, the want to put Ghoul away they’d once had.

Party just needed to put Ghoul behind bars. They’d lock him away, and everything would go back to normal. Things would make sense again.

“You know,” Party said between exchanged punches. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-oh,” Ghoul giggled. “That’s never a good thing.”

Party scowled. The worst part was that Ghoul was right, kind of: they didn’t have a single idea what they were thinking. Not even the slightest clue. At the moment, they quite literally were the embodiment of no thoughts head empty. And yet here they were, saying they’d been thinking. Like a liar.

“Sorry,” Ghoul said, but he didn’t sound very apologetic because it was still laughing. “Go ahead, darling.”

That fucking nickname again. They should've known better than to let himself get distracted: not a second later, a well-placed punch met their jaw.

“Motherfucker?!”

Ghoul shrugged. “You let your guard down. I wonder why that is; don’t you, darling ?”

Party gaped at it, a little offended by how easily Ghoul had seen through them. “I don’t know what you mean. You landed a good hit, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”

That little shit. Party took back everything they’d ever said about it being endearing.

“You were saying something about thinking earlier, I believe?” Ghoul prompted as he threw another punch.

Party blocked that one easily. “I was thinking, since you know who I am and I know who you are….” Wait, what? They interrupted themself, confused. That was not what they thought they’d been thinking about. They didn’t like where this was heading.

Bad brain, stop , they told their brain. Their brain said: “There’s this Hallloween party next weekend. I was thinking we could go.” What .

It was Ghoul’s turn to freeze. Only to get hit right between the eyes by none other than Party.

Taken aback, they covered their mouth with both hands as Ghoul fell down. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I thought you were blocking!”

“I thought I was too!” Ghoul exclaimed, shaken. He took the hand Party was offering him and got up. “I was blocking. At least until you said this !”

“I wasn’t planning on saying it! It slipped out!” they blurted out. And they meant it, too. They were as surprised as Ghoul was, if not more.

“You asked me out… by accident ?”

“It sounds stupid when you say it like that,” they mumbled, looking down. “Never mind the invitation, I really don’t know what came over me. It’s silly.”

“Party.”

“I mean, how could it even work, right? It’d be weird, right? A hero and a villain at a Halloween party in some random bar? Crazy. It’s crazy, right?”

“Pois.”

“I’m sorry, forget I said anything. I swear I had no idea I was going to say that.”

“Party!” Ghoul repeated, louder. “You’re rambling. Stop it. Of course I’ll go with you. I didn’t have any felony planned on the 31st.”

“You—what? You’re kidding. Really?”

“About planning felonies? Yeah.” Party rolled their eyes, mouth pinched. “It’s a date, Poison.”

Chapter Text

“It’s a date, Poison,” Ghoul had said. It had been two days, and Party was still obsessing over it.

Party had been about to protest, defend themself, before they’d remembered that Ghoul wasn’t Kobra. It meant it in a teasing way, the same way he would give them nicknames, would crack inappropriate jokes.

So why was its answer affecting them so much?

“What are you thinking about?” Kobra asked in that voice. The Party’s-got-a-crush voice. The I’m-so-wrong-I-sound-stupid voice.

“Nothing you should worry about,” they grumbled.

Kobra gasped excitedly. “It’s a date, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s only the Halloween party.”

“Okay, that's totally a date. Can I come and watch you embarrass yourself?”

Party glared at him. “No! No, you absolutely can and will not!”

“It’s such a date,” Kobra laughed, and he was lucky Party loved him, because he would’ve gotten strangled otherwise. “Are you gonna wear matching costumes?”

Kobra was mocking them, but he did raise an important issue: Party had no idea what Ghoul was going to wear. If it decided to wear anything with a mask—which he probably would, given the whole supervillain thing—Party would never recognize him.

“Oooh, you forgot to plan a cute couple costume, didn’t you,” Kobra laughed, although he sobered up a bit. “That’s alright, just call him and plan it!”

Ha. yeah. Call him. Party would just pull a random number out of their ass.

“It'll be alright, big sib,” Kobra said as he patted them on the back, but Party was feeling anything but alright. Why oh why had they blurted out an invitation, again?

“I’m going for coffee,” they announced, defeated.

Maybe a foolish part of themself hoped it would be there. Maybe. Maybe they walked there faster than they usually would’ve. Maybe they felt a pit in their stomach when they didn’t see a familiar face in the shop. Just maybe.

“Oi! Redhead!” said the barista. It wasn’t anyone Party knew, so they figured it was a new hire. “Yes, you!” she instead when they pointed at themself. “You see another customer?”

No, they did not. 

“Dude left this for you,” she told them, handing them a letter. “Black hair, about wee tall.” She gestured at her shoulders in ‘a about that high’ way. “Wee short,” she rectified.

Eyes widening in understanding, they snatched the letter, thanking her profusely. 

“Just consider yourself lucky you came here in time. I finish in fifteen,” she commented, picking at her neon blue nails. “You gonna order anything?”

“No,” Party said, placing a twenty dollar bill on the counter. “Thanks anyway.”

“Um, sure?” she replied, uncertain, as Party made a hasty exit out of the store. 

They struggled to unfold the note, almost giddy.

hi p! meet up at ur place sat b4 the party? thx <33

Their place? That was a terrible idea, they thought. Kobra lived there! And how did Ghoul know their address? Also, unrelatedly, they needed to have a talk with Ghoul about written notes not being texts, because this writing was just sad.

It was just so sad, they thought as they carefully tucked the note in their pocket.

Party’s place. The party was Saturday which was… Party checked their cellphone and almost fainted. The next day!?

Great, so they just had to figure out a way to kick Kobra out for a few hours. Surely he’d understand. Especially if Party played the date card. Not that it was an actual date, but Kobra refused to accept that, so they could use it against him.

The only question that remained was how did Ghoul know where they lived? Either it had stalked them, which was kind of creepy, or he was a really good hacker, which they doubted. Ghoul was probably talented, but it took some serious skills to break through Killjoy’s defenses. Kobra had spent a lot of time on them. It was like his baby, his pride and joy.

That only left the stalker option, an option that, quite frankly, Party didn’t like. What was the point of going so far not to see their face, only to follow them home? They’d expected it to respect their privacy a bit more, to be honest. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to meet up at that Halloween party. After all that they’d gotten through, they’d thought that—oh.

Oh!

Ghoul didn’t mean Party’s place! Well, he did, but he didn’t know that it wasn’t Party’s place. All he knew was that Party had brought him to a place when he was injured, hence Party’s place . Aka their grand-aunt’s.

Relieved, they walked all the way back to HQ feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off their chest.

“So?” Kobra inquired the instant they placed a foot in their usual room.

Party jumped, startled. “Jesus, Kobes!” Then, “I sorted it out.”

“What are you guys going to wear? I have to know if I need to eternally judge you.”

They shook their head. “I don’t know yet, but we’re meeting up early tomorrow so we’ll have time to decide.”

“Party. Party, no. All the good costumes will be gone. I am definitely eternally judging you for this.”

That was a good point, but: “I don’t even know if he wants to dress up.”

“Dump him if not!” Kobra exclaimed, mildly distressed.

“I didn’t invite him for the costumes,” they admitted. “I wasn’t even thinking when I asked, it just slipped out and I’ve been freaking out since. So no, costumes weren’t my biggest concern.”

“Aw, Pois. Sorry for laughing earlier. I personally think it’s good you’re dipping your toes back in the dating pool!” Kobra sounded genuine, which made the truth worse. Party was going to a party with a soon-to-be class five supervillain, and there Kobra was, blissfully unaware of the situation, but proud nonetheless.

“I’m not, I—we’re just friends.” If they could even call Ghoul a friend. They genuinely didn’t know where the two of them stood.

“Ah. So we’re back to denial. My bad, I thought we’d made a breakthrough.”

Party friendly punched him in the shoulder. “I’ll tell you one day.” Kobra probably thought they meant they’d tell him about the dates, which seemed to satisfy him. That wasn’t what they meant, though, and the promise of eventually having to come clean made their stomach churn in a rather unpleasant way.

It was ridiculous: they were getting excited over the prospect of a not-date with a villain. They didn't know why they’d suggested it, didn’t know why Ghoul had accepted, and didn’t know what to call it.

‘That’s totally a date,’ Kobra had said.

‘It’s a date,’ Ghoul had said—albeit jokingly.

And that was when it hit them: they’d asked Ghoul on a date.

They’d asked Ghoul on a date, because Kobra was fucking right and they were going to have to die in the next five seconds so they would never have to face him again. Kobra was right, because Party had a huge embarrassing fucking crush on Ghoul.

They were taking that to their grave .

♡

Saturday had finally caught up with them, and Party was properly freaking out. Before they’d left the appartement, Kobra had yelled “Have a great time on your date!” and Party was so stressed they hadn’t even tried to correct him.

Right now, though, they were busy pacing around their great-aunt’s living room. How were they supposed to deal with this recent knowledge of liking Ghoul? Of all people , Party thought, hysterical.

Speaking of Ghoul, they heard knocks on the door and felt their soul leave their body. This was the single worst idea they’d ever had.

They tried to cheer themself up: they had this; they could do this. Then, they hurried to the door. They needed to answer it before the waiting time became awkward.

“Hey, Ghoul,” they forced out, stepping aside so Ghoul could enter the condo.

Ghoul beamed at them, and Party couldn’t believe they hadn’t realized the way they felt sooner. No one’s knees went weak at the sight of someone’s smile if they weren’t a goner for the person.

“Oh, you got my message! At least, I hope you did and that you’re not panicking right now.”

“Nope, no, I got it. That’s not actually where I live, you know? My place looks a bit more like somewhere a human would live and a little less like the bastard child of a storage unit and an evil lair.”

They hadn’t thought it possible, but Ghoul’s smile brightened. “So, are we thinking fashionably late to the party, or bright and early?”

“I… haven’t thought that far ahead,” Party admitted, flustered.

“That’s alright!” Ghoul declared, walking to Party’s room before jumping on the bed. It frowned, patting the mattress. “This is harder than I remembered.”

“I thought you liked it rough,” Party snickered.

“You remember that, huh?” He looked back at the bed, pouting. “I guess I was too out of it to notice how bumpy it was.”

“Hey, um, Ghoul? Did you have an idea for costumes?”

Ghoul turned to stare at them, wide eyed. “Oh fuck. Costumes. I forgot. Tell me you didn’t and that was an opening sentence for you to present your awesome costume idea, right?”

“Er—not really? It's funny you said you forgot, ‘cause, heh, I did too. Or rather, I’ve spent the last twenty four hours obsessing over the fact that I didn’t have one. Hope this helps.”

Ghoul slumped on the bed, shaken by laughter. “Ugh, we’re terrible at this.”

Party sat down next to it. “See what happens when you’re evil? No time for costumes.”

The other smirked at them. “See what happens when you’re a superhero? You get so busy worrying about everyone else, you forget to think about yourself.”

They gaped at him, a surprised chuckle squeezing its way through. “Woah, now! That was not lighthearted like mine!”

Ghoul shrugged, grinning. “You know what the worst part is, though?”

“About being evil?”

“No, dumbass! About the costumes.”

“Oh,” Party, said, dumbly.

Ghoul toyed with the blanket on the bed. “I love Halloween. Me and my mom would make it into a huge holiday when I was a kid. She’d let me skip school so we could spend the whole day together.”

Fuck, not now , Party thought as they felt a blush spread to their cheeks. Ghoul had whipped out a cute childhood story, how were they supposed to act casual at that? “That’s actually really cute. She sounds nice. Your mom.”

“She was,” Ghoul breathed, and Party knew better than to push.

They wanted to hug it or take his hand in theirs, but they didn’t want to step on any boundaries. They weren’t sure what they could afford to do without making Ghoul uncomfortable, so they stayed put, stupidly sitting on their bumpy bed.

Probably noticing their silence, Ghoul nudged them. “It’s alright. I mean, sure, it's sad or whatever, but it was years ago. I don’t want to be sad right now. Can we get food instead?”

They nodded, slightly smiling. They wished they could’ve done something else, something more, but right now Ghoul was asking for food. Food was something they could do, easy.

“Do you want to go get it or do we order takeout? I can’t really offer anything else, I gave you the last fruit salad last time, and I doubt you want to eat chickpeas straight out of the can.”

“But chickpeas in the candlelight sound so romantic,” Ghoul jokingly lamented.

It was hard to think over the sound of their inner screaming. “See, that’s where you went wrong. You assumed I had anything remotely romantic in here. You won’t find any candles.”

“I mean… you’ve got a bed,” Ghoul commented, and Party almost died. Their saving grace was Ghoul telling them ordering in sounded good.

They continued talking while they waited for the food to come, and Party couldn’t help but be struck by the domesticity of it. Ghoul was a public enemy, and they were a public hero, yet here they both were, in Party’s guest bedroom in their dead grand-aunt’s condo, having a conversation. If they didn’t think about it too hard, they could almost forget that they were most definitely committing some form of treason right now.

The doorbell rang, effectively bursting the bubble. “I’ll go get it,” Party said. “You don’t have to come, if you want to, y’know.”

Ghoul laughed. “What, hide? Pois, I’ve ordered takeout before. You do know I have a life outside of the crimes, right? This will not be the first time—nor the last—that someone sees my face. Objectively, you’re a hundred times more likely of being recognized than I am. Your mask hides nothing, darling. Not even your undying love for me,” it concluded, and it took Party an embarrassingly long time to realize he was joking.

“Oh! Oh, you’re joking!” they exclaimed, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“I mean, it’s true that your mask serves more as a symbol than anything, but the rest of it was a joke, yeah. You can stop looking at me like I just killed your childhood dog in cold blood,” Ghoul said, amused.

“Sorry. I’ll—um—takeout.” They motioned at the door before making their retreat.

The walk from and back to the bedroom gave them a chance to get a hold of themself. This was getting out of hand—they needed to reel it back in a bit before they said something they’d forever regret. Worst case scenario, they’d just have to arrest Ghoul so they would never have to face him again, but the thought of that didn’t really offer any comfort.

They mostly ate in silence, sometimes interrupting the quiet to exchange a handful of words.

“So, costumes,” Ghoul said between two bites. “Worst ideas, let’s go.”

Their answer was almost instant: “Pineapple and pizza.”

Ghoul turned green. “I’m canceling this whole thing. It was fun meeting you, Party Poison, but I’m afraid our paths can never cross again.”

“You said worst ideas!” they protested. “I don’t put pineapple on my pizza! Buuuut you have to admit it’s still a pretty iconic costume.”

“Over my dead body,” it solemnly declared. “Okay, my turn. I go as you, and you go as me.”

“I don’t think your suit would fit me,” Party pointed out. And then, genius struck. “ Ghoul . Oh my God. We go as ourselves!”

“What? No way in hell!”

Party pouted. “Why not? You have your suit with you, right? Of course you do, you’d be a shit villain if you hadn’t brought it with you to my place.” They waited for Ghoul to reluctantly confirm it had packed it with him before resuming their irrefutable argument. “Trust me, no one will suspect it’s actually us. We hate each other! It would literally be like hiding in plain sight. Plus, people dress up as people like us all the time. Aaaand it won’t be weird if I call you Ghoul.”

Ghoul blinked too fast for Party to count how many times it did. “Okay, no. I don’t think you understand, so let me spell it out for you. This. Isn’t. Happening .”

Chapter Text

“I hate you,” Ghoul complained over the bar’s loud music.

“It’s Halloween, cheer up!”

Ghoul gestured at itself. “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one dressed up as the city supervillain!”

“Supervillain?” they replied with a smirk. “Don’t be so full of yourself.” Ghoul’s glare was seething, his eyes switching to black and white mode. “Also, lose the eyes.”

They were only wearing their suits, figuring it would draw as much attention as their entire attires. It had taken a lot of convincing for Ghoul to get on board, and it seemed he’d immediately changed its mind the instant they’d stepped into the bar.

They had barely made it two steps in that some partygoer had yelled, “Your hair’s the wrong shade of red.” Party but back a smile, amused. If only they knew just who they were saying that to.

“See, I told you so,” they told Ghoul, in reference to their earlier argument. Ghoul looked like he was starting to calm down, slowly starting to accept no one would recognize them. Its eyes were even back to their normal color! That was, right until another stranger informed it that, “Fun Ghoul’s not that short!”

“I hate this fucking city,” he muttered, his right eye twitching. That said right eye changed color again, creating a weird effect of black-white versus green-white on the right and left eye respectively as he tried to stay composed.

Party pulled him away from the crowd, trying as hard as they could not to tease. They were here for a fun time, and they doubted it would be anywhere near fun if they jumped into the height joke in front of Ghoul.

They stayed in the relatively empty corner until Ghoul calmed down enough for its eyes to be the same color again. 

“You know what?” Ghoul said once he’d calmed down. “It’s a good thing you’re not wearing your mask, because I would definitely lose you in that crowd of Party Poisons.”

Party looked at where he was pointing, stifling a laugh. About five or six friends were walking together in an array of red wigs, blue jackets and yellow masks. ‘“Is that a me group costume?” they asked, amazed and a little bit intimidated.

“Okay, let's play a game: whoever spots the most Parties win.”

Oh, that was a game they had to win. Surely they could recognize themself better than anyone else. “You’re on!”

The two of them walked up the second floor and sat down by the railings, letting their legs dangle off the balcony. From their vantage point, they spent the next thirty minutes or so seeking Party Poison lookalikes, progressively evolving into a game of pointing out costumes they thought looked cool when Party found themself losing the game.

“Wanna go get something to drink?” Party asked, standing up.

“Sure.”

As they walked, Party turned to Ghoul to ask what he wanted to drink, only to find a concerning lack of Ghoul by their side. They whirled around, worried they’d lost it, only to find him stuck in place a few steps back.

“Ghoul?” they called out, confused by the horrified face it was making. “What is it?”

They followed his stare, only to land on the single funniest sight their eyes had ever been graced by.

Ghoul glanced at them, looking for a confirmation that they were both seeing the same thing, before returning his stare to the girl in front of them. “Is that supposed to be… me?”

Before Party could answer, the girl had waved at them and leaned towards Ghoul. Their height difference was almost comical: any average height girl would have at least a few inches over Ghoul, but she was well over six feet. She had to bend over to look at Ghoul comfortably. “Cool costume!’ she exclaimed brightly.

Party had to keep themself from laughing as they saw the five stages of grief pass over Ghoul’s face. Clearly, they hadn’t quite managed to hide their amusement, because Ghoul glared at them. The girl looked over too, only then noticing Party.

“Party Poison and Fun Ghoul. A bold choice,” she hummed.

She momentarily looked away from them, motioning at someone in the distance to come over, and ghoul took advantage of her inattention to look at Party. “That’s not practical!” it exclaimed, motioning at the girl’s outfit, distressed.

Much like Ghoul, she was wearing a skintight suit, but the similarity stopped there. Her suit had a zipper in the front, and it was halfway down. She also wore heels Party couldn’t even dream of ever being able to walk with. They genuinely respected her for that.

She did lose points for wearing a jacket and shorts, though. Party had thanked the skies that Ghoul had only brought the suit with it, but she obviously hadn’t faced the same problem. Admittedly, her clothes were nowhere close to what Ghoul usually wore. Which, now that they thought of it, was probably why Ghoul was throwing a fit. 

They were kind of jealous of her shorts, truthfully: if she hadn’t been wearing the suit underneath, the tiny piece of clothing would’ve been fire. Horrible or not, it was still insanely better than Ghoul’s ugly ones, so they made a mental note to convince him to shorten his shorts. With no ulterior motives for that, obviously. As for her sleeveless jacket, all they had to say was that surely that had to be uncomfortable: it looked about three sizes too small.

“I mean, are you seeing this?” Ghoul whispered through gritted teeth, and Party really was trying not to laugh, they swore, but a giggle escaped.

Ghoul looked about ready to chew them out for it, but the girl turned back to them. “Are you okay?” she asked, frowning. “You look a little red.”

It eyed her up and down, demoralized. “I—Fun Ghoul’s not even a girl,” was what he decided on, but Party doubted that was what bothered him the most.

The girl cocked her head, confused. “Why can’t she be a girl? She’s small, she’s swift, and she’s a badass. All evil aside, obviously.” Ghoul opened its mouth to reply, and she frowned. “What, you don’t think girls can be supervillains?”

Ghoul glared at them in a we’re-talking-about-this-later way, and Party couldn’t hold it in anymore. They erupted into laughter, clutching their hurting ribs.

“ STOP LAUGHING! ” Ghoul cried out. Then, more silently, “You’re the one who dragged me here, show some support.” Their best attempt at comforting it was patting its shoulder.

Another girl a bit shorter than the one they’d been talking to walked up to them, beaming, as she greeted, “Hey, babe,” and Ghoul’s eyes almost left their orbit as it choked on the air.

The two girls were talking giddily, and Party had to side with Ghoul on that one. Something was off .

“Is that…” Ghoul started, glancing at Party, but they weren’t the one to answer.

“A matching costume? Yes!” the newcomer exclaimed with shiny eyes and a toothy grin.

Party expected Ghoul to explode, but it only squinted, growing tenser under their hand on its shoulder. “A couple’s matching costumes?”

The two girls nodded brightly, and Party could pinpoint the moment Ghoul’s soul left its body.

“You think Fun Ghoul and Korse are dating ?”

“Yeah!” the girl dressed as Korse agreed. Her head was shaved and she was wearing a long grey coat, and she wasted no time explaining in heavy details why Fun Ghoul and Korse had chemistry. “Hell, maybe Fun Ghoul targeting BL/ind employees is some form of foreplay, you never know! Villains who slay together, stay together,” she punctuated with a proud smile.

Party and Ghoul stared at the two of them, shocked out of words. 

“Aw, come on!” Ghoul shouted, and there was that explosion they'd awaited. “They hate each other! Fun Ghoul would fucking join the fucking so-called heroes before dating him! Hell, before even coming within a touching distance of him! And Fun Ghoul’s not a girl! Have you ever seen straight villains? HAVE YOU?!”

An awkward laugh slipped from Party’s mouth at the face the two girls were making. “Fun Ghoul has made it public that he’s not a girl, but we both agree that girls have their place in the supervillain industry.”

Wow. Saying that with a straight face had to have been the hardest thing they’d ever done. That had so not been a discussion they’d expected to have that night.

“But that’s not the point, though!” Ghoul protested, looking at them. His eyes thankfully hadn’t changed colors, but they were filled with horror. Then, it turned towards the girls again, glaring, and they slapped a hand over his mouth before he could cause more of a scene.

“Heh. You’ll have to excuse my boyfriend,” they apologetically told the girls. Ghoul’s head whipped back to them so fast they lost their hold on him, and only then did they realize what they’d just said. They looked straight ahead, careful not to meet its eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see how flustered they were. Being self-aware was the worst—they missed the time when they didn’t know the extent of their feelings for Ghoul.

The two girls shared a glance. “Too much to unpack here,” one of them declared, throwing her hands up. They walked away, leaving Party alone with a fuming Ghoul.

♡

“So, boyfriend, huh?” Ghoul teased.

After the debacle with the two cosplayers, they’d forgone the drinks and had walked to the roof instead.

The cold night wind was their only ally against their embarrassingly hot face. “It’s what made the most sense to say, given the circumstances. They thought you were in a loving relationship with Korse, Ghoul. Korse. Surely you and me being an item was in their realm of understanding. I mean, not that I mean anything by that! But the first girl seemed to think we had a matching costume, so I just played along and—”

“Pois,” Ghoul laughed. “I get it. Now stop friendzoning me before I start crying. Stop stomping on my broken heart so I can mend it and all that,” he teased, cracking a mocking smile.

“Wow, wow, wow, sounds like we’ve got a comedian in the house. Aren’t you just hilarious ?” Party said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“No, seriously, it’s alright. You might be cute when you’re rambling, but there’s no need for it. Really. Just know I’m never letting the whole boyfriend thing go.”

“Ugh,” Party whined, burying their face in their hands.

“I do have one comment, though, and it’s that it was a missed opportunity to say I was your ghoulfriend.”

Party stared, unimpressed. “Just for that, consider us broken up.”

Ghoul snickered. “Oh well. This thirty minute relationship was fun while it lasted.”

They friendly shoved him. If their exterior was composed, their inside was anything but. In fact, their brain was screaming so loud they couldn’t hear their thoughts, and if their heart rate sped up any more, they might just have a heart attack.

Just as Party was about to say something in the lines of ‘hey, it's hot in here, right?’, Ghoul said, “I’m kind of cold. Are you?”

Party entirely blamed their answer on their traitorous brain. Maybe if it hadn’t been in crisis for the last hour or so, they could’ve come up with something else than, “Want my jacket?”

They were showing their hand. Like, way too much. There was no way Ghoul wouldn’t see right through them. As a  matter of fact, when they dared look down at him, his stare bore right into their soul.

“Your superhero jacket?” It asked, as though he couldn’t quite believe Party, as though that was the only thing it found an issue with.

“I’m really hot,” they blurred out.

Ghoul smirked as he said, “Damn right you are.”

Someone kill Party. “N—no, well yeah, but I meant—”

Ghoul’s smile fell, and it stared at them. The ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ was left unspoken, but it didn’t take a genius to read it all over his face. “I know what you meant, Pois. And you know what, fuck it. Sure, I’ll take your jacket,” he decided, making grabby hands at them.

They were quick to untie it from their waist. Maybe—just maybe—a bit too quick, but Ghoul didn’t say anything about it. It simply accepted the jacket, and Party did their best not to spontaneously combust at the sight of him floating in the oversized piece of clothing.

Party thought so hard about saying ‘you can keep it’ that, for a moment, they were scared they actually had. It wouldn’t be such a big deal in the way that this wasn’t their main jacket—they’d worn the black version since their usual navy one was too recognizable and thus at home—but they couldn't just go around giving their jackets to any boy who made their heart beat faster.

Ghoul felt different, though. Maybe because, unlike the other people they’d dated in the past, they’d bonded over a shared life or death situation. They guessed the fact that they had a similar profession helped, too. Ghoul understood their experience in a way someone else couldn’t, because he lived through it daily, too.

“Party?” By the sound of it, he’d been trying to get their attention for quite some time now.

They apologized. “Sorry, I spaced out.”

It nodded, smiling. “Thanks for dragging me out here. Even if showing up in our suits was a horrible idea.” He kneed their knee, but didn’t quite pull away, their knees still touching. 

“You’ll just have to choose the costumes next year,” they said without realizing the implications behind what they’d said. It took every bit of their willpower not to cover their mouth. Play it cool, Party , they reprimanded himself, because they were not cool right now.

 Ghoul smirked. “I’ll hold you on to that.” He paused, then: “Looking forward to it.”

Chapter Text

“What’s this?” was the first thing Party Poison heard after waking up. This could be explained by the fact that they were the exact same words their brother used to wake them up.

Groaning, they opened an eye, only to be met with something… grey? They opened the other eye, pushing what turned out to be a newspaper away from their face.

Without bothering to read it, they scowled at Kobra. “What the fuck? You can’t just barge into my room unannounced! What if I’d been naked?”

“Ew!”

“Don’t ‘ew’ me! You’re the one who let yourself in!”

Sighing, they lowered their eyes on the newspaper Kobra was holding.

Class Four Criminal Fun Ghoul Taunts City Superheroes , the headline read, and Party had to do a double take at the picture, every single last ounce of their sleepiness vanishing. The paper showed an image of Ghoul captured walking around the city in none other than their fucking jacket .

“Couldn’t this have waited until I’d had my coffee?” they lamented, pushing their blankets off of them. 

Kobra scoffed, as though that had been ridiculous a request. “No? Party, this is serious!”

“It’s just a jacket. Prettier than the one it had before.” Except for the fact that they’d forgotten to take their jacket home with them, they didn’t see what the big deal was. They knew it was a big deal because they had all the information, and that information was that Party sucked at having an archnemesis because they’d fallen for him, but Kobra didn’t have all the facts. For all he knew, Ghoul was walking around with a rip-off of Party’s jacket. They'd both seen supervillains do worse.

Ghoul looked kinda hot in their jacket, though, their brain unhelpfully provided. Luckily, Kobra was there to stop that train of thought by bringing them back to the present:

“No, Party. It’s not a jacket, it’s your jacket.”

“I mean, it’s not like it’s mine-mine!” they lied through their teeth. “I didn’t get a say in this!” Which was only technically a half-lie. They’d given Ghoul the jacket, but forgetting to take it back had been a genuine oversight on their part. They hadn’t meant for it to take it home, much less wear it the very next day. Especially knowing that Kobra would wake them up in distress.

“It still sends a bad message,” Kobra said with a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What if someone mistakes him for you? What if people start doubting us? I shouldn’t have to explain to you that a supervillain wearing a superhero symbol is a bad thing, Party.”

“Well, for starters, if they mistake it for me, they should get their eyes checked out. My hair is bright red and his is black. Oh, and he’s short. And, for the record, I’m not saying it’s good, I’m just saying maybe don’t wake me up in a pani—”

“Wait, wait back up,” Kobra said, frowning. And not in a good way. In a very confused way that instantly made Party’s skin crawl. “What did you say about his hair?”

“His—” Fucking shit. They weren’t supposed to know its fucking hair color. “Um, the fuzz on his mask. Black.”

Kobra narrowed his eyes and pinched his mouth into a thin line, but didn’t say anything.

“Hey, at least it’s not my blue jacket?” Their attempt to lighten the mood wasn’t made with much enthusiasm, but it got Kobra off their case, at the very least.

“Yeah. Now we just have to find a way to straighten things out without it turning into a PR nightmare.”

Party really should’ve known better than to try to untense the situation by now, and yet… “I mean, we can’t just force it to strip it off.”

Kobra’s eyes lit up in a worrying way, and Party gulped. This was precisely why they didn’t want to have this conversation without coffee: their foot-in-mouth disease was much more prominent.

“Maybe not strip it down, but….”

Party motioned for him to continue. They were too tired to follow without it being spelled for them.

“We’ve been targeting BL/ind and it has horribly failed. I say we move back to Fun Ghoul.”

Party snorted. “Oh, because that has gone over so well the last times—’times’ plural, mind you—we’ve tried,” they snarked, only to realize a tad bit too late that Kobra was a hundred percent serious. “Oh. You’re not joking.”

“Why would I even joke about this?” Riiight. They’d momentarily forgotten about their brother’s allergy to fun. He only seemed to like it when it was placed between ‘make’ and ‘of Party’. “We know more about it than we’ve ever done. He’s becoming too sure of itself: someone needs to take it down a peg.”

They had to agree. Kobra would grow suspicious if they didn’t. Besides. They did agree. They weren’t stupid enough to let their feelings get into the way of their job. Well—ultimately. Party admittedly hadn’t been the best at locking Ghoul up recently, but that was only because it hadn’t been Killjoy’s focus. They could totally do it should it come down to it.

“No, no, you’re right. I know you’re right. And I agree! BL/ind’s a closed door right now, so we should put our energy where it matters. I just want to make sure you understand the implications of what you’re suggesting.”

“The implications being….”

“So far, Ghoul’s defeated us at every turn. We have to keep in mind that he might—and honestly, probably will—outsmart us again before we catch it.”

“I do know that, but it doesn’t mean we should just stop trying. What kind of message would that be? To criminals? To the city ?”

Party groaned, running a hand through their hair. “God, Kobes, I’m not saying we let him fuck shit up, I’m just saying we need to prepare for disappointment. We’ll get him.”

Kobra smiled tightly, and Party knew he’d understood their point, just as they knew he knew they’d understood his.

They’d barely placed their feet on the floor when their phone rang. Groaning, they picked it up from their bedside table. “Yes?”

Jet's voice blared through the tiny speaker. They winced, putting space between the phone and their ear. “Party! I was gonna call Kobra but then I figured that this concerned you more than him and I just—have you seen this ?”

♡

“Hey Ghoul! I loved our totally-not-a-date yesterday! You know what would be cooler, though? Me arresting you! We could have so much time to chat, you wouldn’t believe! What says romance better than one on one time… in a jail cell....”

Party groaned at their reflection. “You’re so fucking stupid,” they told mirror-Party.

Kobra had gone out to buy groceries, leaving his sibling alone with their thoughts. Which, by the way, was never a good idea. They had too much time—and thoughts—on their hands.

They’d accepted the fact that they would have to arrest Ghoul a long time ago. Hell, they’d even looked forward to it. They’d just had to go and catch feelings for the little shit. Because of course that wasn’t counterproductive in any fucking way.

No, they’d come to terms with having to arrest Ghoul, but they weren’t ready to deal with the aftermath. Ghoul would never forgive them, and he’d be hurt. It would hurt him so much, and he would try to hide it, but Party just knew it would feel betrayed. And rightfully so!

Ghoul hating them was one thing. They would understand and respect that. But causing it pain? They leaned against the wall, silently sinking to the floor. They were so fucked.

It was all their fault, of course. They had no one else but themself to be mad at. Which was kind of worse in itself, now that they thought of it: it meant that whatever they could’ve done to prevent it, they hadn’t done. Party wasn’t quite sure where they went wrong—they’d never fallen for a supervillain before.

They pushed themself off the floor and suited up—they were supposed to meet with Jet and Kobra as soon as the latter was done with his groceries.

For the first time in, well, a longer time than it should have been, they prayed they wouldn’t run into Ghoul on their walk to Killjoy HQ. If they did, they’d either have to lie to its face and pretend everything was fine, or betray Killjoy by warning him of the new developments. It was a lose-lose situation, and Party didn’t particularly like losing.

Maybe the universe had decided they deserved just a tiny smudge of inner peace, because they made their way to Killjoy without any issue. They should’ve known that only meant trouble ahead.

They’d barely placed a step inside HQ that alarms started to blare. 

“All available killjoys are requested at 511 Summer Drive, I repeat, 511 Summer Drive. Class four villain confrontation in progress.”

Party swore. They only knew one active class four criminal, and that one criminal was no other than Fun fucking Ghoul. By that logic, the fucker had gotten his sorry ass in some deep shit wherever the fuck 511 Summer Drive was. Party was going to kill him if another killjoy didn’t take care of that first.

The fact that an alarm had rung could only mean two things: either Ghoul had done something bad and was on its way to an official class five and Killjoy was requesting backup, or he was overpowered and Killjoy wanted to make sure he wouldn’t escape again. 

The chaos that awaited Party at 511 Summer Drive did not clarify the situation.

“What the fuck’s happening?” they asked, running up to Jet. She’d somehow already been on scene—not that Party knew how. To the best of their knowledge, they’d both been at KHQ when the alarm had rung.

Their two questions were answered when she replied. “I got called in on my radio while I was waiting for you and Kobra. Before this became an alarm situation. Fun Ghoul’s down, and we’re trying to retrieve him without taking any, erm, drastic measures.”

Eyes wide open, they stared at her in disbelief. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

She ran a hand through her afro. “Exactly what you think it means. He’s locked himself up in there after sustaining an injury to its leg and he keeps shocking anyone who tries to touch it. We obviously can’t shock him back,” she said, and Party had no choice but to nod. The last time they’d tried that, it had gone horribly. “And we’d rather deal with it without having to sedate him.”

Party nodded again. They didn’t know what else to do. “Let me try to talk to it.”

“What?” Jet asked, incredulous, and all Party could think was, my thoughts exactly .

They struggled to find words, taken by surprise by none other than themself. They really needed to start thinking before speaking. Especially when it came to Ghoul. “It can’t hurt to try. Has anyone spoken with him?”

Jet looked down. “Well, no.”

“Listen, it’s worth a try. I don’t know if he’ll listen to me, but I hope so? I do know that, out of everyone here, I’m the one he’s the most likely to hear out,” they declared. It might have been incriminating, but they weren’t exactly thinking clearly enough to care about that right now. Ghoul wasn’t the type to hide and wait it out. If an injury was holding him in place, then he needed help. Help he couldn’t get if it stayed locked up in there.

Jet stared at them for a good ten seconds before nodding. “If it lays just one finger on you, I’m giving them the go to shoot. Are we clear ?” 

Party gulped: her tone made it clear she was dead serious. “It won’t come to that.”

They pried the door open, following the killjoys already in the house’s directions. Party was led all the way down the stairs in a pitch black room.

Before they could flip the light switch, a voice said, “Don’t.”

“Ghoul?” they asked. As if that voice could ever belong to someone else. 

“..Pois?” Ghoul whispered back, and Party could hear the fear in its voice.

“Yeah. It’s me. Just me. I mean, there's a shitload of people upstairs, but I’m the only one here-here.”

Ghoul let out the tiniest laugh Party had ever heard. “That’s pretty stupid of you.”

Even though Ghoul couldn’t see, Party cracked a small smile. “Can I turn on the lights now? I can’t see shit.”

Ghoul hummed, and it sounded like a ‘yes’ enough for Party. Even with the lights on, the visibility was mediocre. They swore every time their feet hit an object or a corner. At the very least, the mocking huffs Ghoul made each time that happened served as proof he was still conscious—and feeling well enough to make fun of them.

They finally made their way to a very much injured Ghoul. “What the fuck happened to you?” they whisper-exclaimed, because it was way too silent for them to full-on yell.

“Ran into one of your friends,” he answered with a grunt as he removed his mask. Party eyed him warily, but Ghoul only shrugged. If it wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it, Party wouldn’t either—besides, they had more important matters to attend to.

Party removed their own mask to inspect the cut on his leg. It was bad . He’d already lost way too much blood. “Who did this? They can’t—they can’t do this!” Except they could, and Party and Ghoul both knew that.

Ghoul groaned as it tried to sit up, but Party placed a hand on its shoulder, silently asking him to stay still.

“I’m gonna patch you up real quick, is that alright?” they asked.

“Something tells me that’s not what you were sent here for,” Ghoul joked, but Party only looked at him sternly.

“You’re bleeding out, Ghoul. You’re no use to Killjoy if you’re dead,” they said, unable to stop their voice from cracking. “I don’t want—you can’t die.”

“Relax,” Ghoul told them as he weakly patted their arm, leaving a bloody handprint that did nothing to help Party relax. “I’ll be fine.”

“No you won’t!”

Ghoul chuckles. “No I won’t. But I won’t die , stop being dramatic! It’s only a cut, Pois.”

Party eyed his leg, uncertain. It definitely looked worse than ‘just a cut’. They were so going to chew out whoever the fuck had done that. Superheroes couldn’t just go around slashing people up, no matter how wanted the criminal was. Like, yes, it was legal and, sure, they were biased, but surely that wasn’t ethical anyway?

As Party bandaged his leg, Ghoul laughed again. Party raised their eyes, concerned. Was the blood loss making it delirious? Nothing about this was funny.

“Sorry, sorry,” it breathed. “I’m just getting major flashbacks.”

It took so much control not to glare at him. He was lucky he was injured, because almost dying was not something to reminisce about.

“You should arrest me,” Ghoul whispered as Party tightened the bandage.

They let go of its leg. “ What ?”

“You should arrest me,” Ghoul repeated. This time, Party didn’t hold back their glare. They’d heard loud and clear the first time, and it still sounded just as crazy.

“What?” they repeated too, because two could play at this fucking game. “No! That’s unfair, you’re injured!”

Ghoul smiled as it placed a hand on their cheek. “Pois?”

“Yeah?” they whispered, holding their breath, frozen in place.

Ghoul slapped them with all the force it had left to offer. Party opened their mouth to protest, but Ghoul beat them to it. “Now you’re injured too. Do your fucking job.”

“Wh—wait, no, this is not how this was supposed to go,” they told Ghoul. “I was supposed to go down there and talk to you. You can’t just do that. You’re not allowed to give up. You can’t—you can’t just….”

“I’d rather you be the one to do it.”

Finally—finally—their rational thoughts kicked in. “Ghoulie. Listen to me. I am not arresting you. You’re going to surrender on conditions, and I will accept those conditions, and Killjoy can’t do shit.

“Ghoulie? That one’s new,” it commented, smiling.

“Shut up!” Party exclaimed. For once, the panic didn’t stem from a gay crisis. No, it came from Ghoul latching onto a fucking nickname and ignoring Party’s amazing suggestion.

Ghoul laughed, but it wasn’t as strong as when Party first came downstairs. He was getting weaker with every passing second. “Okay. Okay, I’m surrendering with conditions. One: no one removes my mask. Speaking of, could you put it back before we leave?”

Party nodded, grabbing the bloody mask.

“My face can’t go public, Party. I mean it. If there's only one condition that Killjoy respects, let it be this one.”

“Okay, what else?”

“I’m deathly allergic to kiwis. Don’t serve me kiwis.”

“Why didn’t I know that? Ghoul, I brought you food many times, a deadly food allergy kind of seems like something you should’ve told me when I was getting you food! And that’s not what I meant by conditions!”

“Fine, forgive me for asking Killjoy not to kill me with kiwis, Jesus. I don’t know what else to ask for, Pois. Should I be asking for something else?”

‘I… I guess not? Some villains ask for fancy cells, I don’t know.”

Ghoul shook its head. “Thanks for looking out for me, but my mask is all I need. Being a supervillain was fun while it lasted, I guess. I’m ready, Party,” he said, presenting his hands.

“What about Halloween?” Party asked stupidly. As if Ghoul cared about their half-promises of another Halloween outing. As if the night before had meant to it as much as it had meant to them. As if—

“Come visit me, ‘kay? You’ll know where to find me.” When they didn’t answer, Ghoul put his hand back on Party’s cheek. “I’m ready, Pois. It’s time.”

Fighting back their tears, Party slipped both his and their masks back on. Not so long ago, this would’ve felt like a victory. Now, it only felt like losing.

Chapter Text

It had been three days since Ghoul’s capture, and Kobra was currently trying to pry his sibling off the couch.

“You’ve been camped there for days, Party. You need to go outside.”

Realistically, they knew they were being too transparent, but they couldn’t find it in themself to care. “I’ll get up when I’m needed at HQ, Kobes. I’m just tired.”

Kobra sighed, sitting down next to them. He turned off the television and took the ice cream away from them. “No, that’s enough mopping now. I know you’re pissed about the conditional surrender, but Fun Ghoul’s in custody and that’s still huge.”

Ah, yes. That.

Kobra and Jet seemed to think their bad mood was caused by Ghoul’s conditional surrender. The thought of their reaction if they knew Party had been the one to suggest it was almost amusing.

Party barely remembered how the night had gone after they’d stepped out of the house with an unconscious Ghoul in their arms. It had lost consciousness while Party had been going up the stairs and hadn’t woken up until after he’d been locked away in a jail cell. Not that Party had been there for it. They’d merely been told hours after the fact.

Jet and Kobra hadn’t hid their disappointment when they’d found out that Ghoul’s identity would remain secret, and they’d assumed that Party felt the same. Which, under normal circumstances, would’ve been a valid assumption, too.

“You’re gonna have to interrogate him, y’know,” Kobra pointed out.

And Party knew. They knew they would. They were the one to catch Ghoul, so it was left unsaid that they would get a shot at interrogating him. Killjoy wanted them to talk Ghoul out of wearing a mask, and they refused to do it. Well, they hadn’t told Killjoy that, of course, but they were still thinking it.

“Seriously Pois, come on. The conditions suck, but the only way to get him to agree to cancel them is to talk to it.”

And that—Kobra’s annoying insistence that they get off the couch and talk to Ghoul—was how Party ended up getting off the couch and talking to Ghoul.

It was… awkward, to say the least.

“What the fuck, Party?” was the first thing Ghoul said to them. Or, more accurately, yelled at them.

“Um. Hi?”

“It’s been three days, where the fuck were you? I—” he turned his back to the camera, crossing its arms. “Is there someone else here?”

“No.”

Ghoul took its mask off its face, leaving it half on its head like it was a fucking pair of sunglasses. Party kind of wished it would put it back on so they wouldn’t have to see his angered expression. “You’re an asshole, Party Poison,” and Party winced, because, damn, their full name?

“I don’t get it,” they said, scrunching their brows in confusion. “What happened?”

Ghoul scoffed. “What happened? What happened is that you’re a fucking jerk. Fuck me, man, and to think I was right about the likes of you all along. Fucking superheroes.”

“What’s this about? I don’t get it,” they said again, stupidly.

“What’s there not to get?” Ghoul replied, furious, and Party really felt like a fucking idiot because they truly had no idea what Ghoul was mad about. He was the one who insisted on turning himself in! Hell, it was going to do it without conditions! “I thought you were different.”

“Ghoulie,” they began, but Ghoul cut them off.

“Don’t call me that!” His back still facing the camera, it sat down on the floor, hugging his knees. “Just… forget it, okay. I was misguided, that’s on me. Don’t beat your pretty face up over it and go back to arresting criminals or whatever it is you do.”

Party looked back at the camera behind them and, fuck it, they decided. Killjoy could chew them out later if they wanted to. They swiped their access card, unlocking the cell so they could get in.

“What are you doing?” Ghoul asked, glaring at them. From up close, though, Party could see its eyes were wet. “I’m not all that well-versed on Killjoy protocol, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that.”

They sat down next to Ghoul, careful not to touch it. It wasn’t out of fear for themself, but rather the opposite. Something was up with Ghoul, and they didn’t want to upset it further.

For a while, the two of them just sat there without exchanging any words. Party didn’t speak up, letting Ghoul break the silence. He would talk when he was ready to.

“I guess… I guess I just don’t understand. Was it all an act to you? Did you pretend to care about me to build a twisted sense of trust? Like, was all of this planned from the beginning? Was this all a game to you?”

“What?” Party asked, because, genuinely, what ? “What do you mean, a game? Pretending? No, what?”

Ghoul tightened its hold on his knees. “I don’t know, I just think there are more efficient ways to catch villains than to emotionally manipulate them,” he told them with a shrug. He acted nonchalant, but, from up close, the pain twisting his features was all too evident.

At what Ghoul said, though, Party froze. Was this what Ghoul thought they’d been doing? Was this what they’d done, without realizing it? “I’m—I didn’t mean to.”

Finally—finally—Ghoul turned to stare at them. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want you to get caught. I didn’t want to catch you.”

Ghoul frowned, confusion all too evident on its face. “What?”

“Jesus, Ghoul! Did you really think I faked an entire—you thought I was playing you?” They rubbed their face, doing their best to clear their head. “No!”

The other looked down, toying with a strand of hair. “Then why didn’t you come sooner?” it asked, and he didn’t even sound reproachful. He just sounded sad.

Oh. Was this what this was all about? “I’m sorry,” they said, and that apparently hadn’t been the right thing to say, because Ghoul’s head whipped back to them so fast they would’ve missed it if they’d blinked. “I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t visit before!” they quickly corrected, and they could see the tension leaving Ghoul’s body. “I didn’t realize you expected me to. You wanna know where I was? I was on the couch, feeling sorry for myself, and I’m so sorry I didn’t realize how shitty that was because you were out here in a fucking holding cell and—”

“You were mopping on your couch?”

Leave it to Ghoul to jump over their heartfelt apology to make fun of them. “Yeah,” they laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s so stupid.”

“It is pretty pathetic,” Ghoul agreed as it cracked a smile. “I’m glad you’re not an asshole, for what it’s worth.”

“I can’t believe you thought I was evil enough to pull that off. Or smart. I’m really not that smart.”

“Yeah, that was pretty silly of me.”

Their shoulders were touching, now. Party wasn’t sure where that had happened, but they didn’t mind it. At all. Maybe Ghoul was onto something: it was pretty pathetic how excited they got about their shoulders touching.

“I’m sorry,” Party whispered. There was no need for anything louder than that: they were close enough for whispers to be perfectly acceptable. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was too busy wallowing to think of the way you were feeling in all this.”

“It’s okay,” Ghoul said, smirking. “It’s not everyday you arrest your archnemesis. You didn’t know what to do with yourself.”

Party perked up. “You said it! You used archnemesis!”

Ghoul groaned. “Yeah, and don’t get your hopes up, because it’s never happening again.”

♡

Jet’s irritated sigh was monumental. “I spend three days— three days! —trying to get him to show me his face. Three days, Party!” With another earth-shattering sigh, she slumped on a chair, defeated. “But you swoop in down there and it instantly shows you? You knew where the camera was, couldn’t you have stood somewhere else? Anywhere else?”

Party forced themself to look her in the eye. She’d grow suspicious if they didn’t. “I didn’t think of it,” they defended themself, but Jet wasn’t really throwing blame. She was just disappointed.

“That little man is going to be the end of me,” Jet told Party. “Mark my words, I will die a high blood pressure related death in my thirties because of him.”

Party chuckled, shaking their head.

Weirdly enough, Killjoy hadn’t reprimanded them for their little stunt back in the holding cell. They’d been warned not to do it again, but apart from that, Killjoy thought it meant Ghoul was growing more comfortable. Hopefully, it would be willing to show his face to someone else soon. From there, it was only a matter of time until it gave up on his surrender’s conditions entirely, Killjoy said. Or, at least, the condition that mattered to them. It wasn’t like they’d planned on serving it a kiwi to begin with.

“He’s not so bad,” Party said, because they seemed to only say stupid things these days.

Jet looked at them, dubious.

“Alright, he’s an acquired taste,” Party compromised. “Just talk to it! No one likes being bossed around.”

She pouted. “I know that, rationally, but he’s just so annoying. It’s got a shiteating grin because it knows—it knows—just how much he gets under my skin. He’s in prison, for God’s sake, and he still manages to be on top of things. I don’t get it.”

Party patted her on the back. “Look at the bright side of things: at least he’s not out on the streets! We may not know who he is, or if he’s committed other crimes apart from the ones he did as Fun Ghoul, but at least he won't create any more trouble.”

“You know who he is, though,” she pointed out, but Party knew as well as she did that that meant nothing. Without Ghoul’s explicit accord, Party wasn’t in any power to reveal its identity. Jet sighed. “I wish you could run his face through the system. Just to appease our minds.”

It was concerning that they hadn’t even thought of doing a background check. They’d known what Ghoul looked like for quite some time and the thought hadn’t even crossed their mind. Yep, concerning was the right word. 

“I’ll visit it again tomorrow,” Party promised Jet, though they weren’t sure if that was more of a favor for her, Ghoul, or themself.

“Try to get him to look at the camera, next time,” she huffed. “This has gone on long enough.” Then, to herself as she walked away: “ Three days. ”

Three days indeed, Party thought to themself. Three days of them laying on a fucking couch because they felt like shit. Not that they had any business to, either.

They’d been acting like they’d just gone through a break up, they realized. Now that it had hit them, they couldn’t believe they hadn’t noticed sooner. They’d done the same when their ex had dumped them, and they were doing it again now that Ghoul was locked up.

Which was… disconcerting. It wasn’t like them and Ghoul had ever gone out that way. Ghoul had a somewhat flirtatious nature, but it had never acted in a way that said it had feelings for them. No, Party had dug that grave for themself and they were going to decompose in it alone.

So basically, they were mourning the loss of a relationship that had never existed—and never would, either—while the other half of the ‘relationship’ was locked up in a Killjoy detention center. Party guessed it was no surprise that Ghoul had been pissed at them. It didn’t even have all the facts. They didn’t want to imagine how bad it would’ve been if he did.

Maybe he’d find it funny. He could get a good laugh out of Party being a brilliant example of a superhero being shit at their job. After all, superheroes were not supposed to fall for supervillains. Which was also why Ghoul would never, ever know about their feelings. What even was the point of telling it? Nothing could ever come of it.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Party woke up bright and early, excited for the day to come. Not quite woken up, their brother glared at them as they happily shuffled around the house.

“Aren’t you a ray of pure joy this Monday morning?” Kobra deadpanned.

Party frowned, confused. “It’s Friday.”

“Whatever,” he sighed, only brightening up when Party placed a cup of coffee in front of him. “I changed my mind,” he told them, sipping the beverage. “Please be this chipper always.”

Usually, Kobra woke up before Party, so if he wanted coffee, he had to do it on his own. He didn’t wake up first out of choice, he often reminded his sibling. Kobra woke up early, but he was not a morning person. It would take him about two hours of staring into space before he properly woke up. Party had often suggested he try to wake up later, but Kobra had informed them that his body simply didn’t let him. After a handful of these exchanges, Party had stopped commenting.

Party liked mornings, though. They didn’t often get to be awake during them due to their job requiring them to be up at night, but on the rare cases that they were up and about with the sun, they felt so much more productive. Paired with the fact that they’d soon be on their way to see Ghoul, they couldn’t help but feel energized. Not that they’d told Kobra that last part. No, they’d kept that all for themself and themself alone.

“You’re happier than you usually are on mornings,” Kobra commented. Perhaps Party hadn’t been as slick as they’d hoped. “You’ve been sad for days and suddenly you’re all excited? What happened?”

Party watered their houseplant, grateful for the reason to avoid Kobra’s unwavering stare. “Nothing!”

They could feel their brother’s eyes boring into the back of their head. “Bullshit. Oh! Is it your boyfriend?” Party turned around to glare at him. When they didn’t reply, though, Kobra took it as a sign he was right. “It totally is! I thought you guys had called it quits because you’ve been a wreck—”

“Gee, thanks.”

“—but now you’re happy again so I’m going to guess… lover’s quarrel?”

Party shook their head. “There’s no boyfriend, Kobra.”

The look Kobra gave them made it obvious he didn’t believe that one bit.

Party was about to insist when genius struck: “Fine. Yeah, we had a fight. We cleared things up yesterday.” It was scary how close to reality the affirmation was. 

They’d probably regret telling Kobra they had a boyfriend, but no amount of them denying it had worked on him, so they’d simply given up. Besides, if Kobra thought they had a boyfriend, he’d never suspect Party having anything else than archnemesis feelings towards Ghoul. It was the perfect cover up story, and Kobra had been the one to hand it to them on a silver platter.

Kobra would be happy for them, and Party could rest easy and bring their secret to their grave.

♡

“Hey girlfriend!” Ghoul greeted, and Party wanted to die. Behind them, Kobra cleared his throat. Ghoul cocked its thankfully masked head. “And hello to you, too, person that I don’t know.”

“It’s Kobra Kid,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the prisoner. He then redirected that glare at Party, who pointedly avoided it.

When Ghoul had said he wouldn’t let Party accidentally calling him their boyfriend at the Halloween party, they hadn’t thought he meant that . And by that, Party meant calling them its girlfriend in front of fucking Kobra.

“You’re shooting your shot in the wrong basket, by the way,” Kobra said, and Party internally groaned. This conversation was the absolute worst. “They have a boyfriend.”

Ghoul snorted. “Do they, now?” It turned its stare to Party and dramatically whispered, “Babe, I don’t think your boyfriend will approve of our relationship.”

Kobra glared at Party. They had no choice but to raise their hands in a I have no idea what he’s talking about way.

The three of them stood in awkward silence until Ghoul spoke up again, and Party wasn’t sure if they should be grateful or praying it would stop talking. “Oh, wait. You’re not the boyfriend, aren’t you? ‘Cause that would be awkward. I promise I’m not after your, erm, Party. Poison.”

Okay, definitely grateful, because they’d never seen Kobra look so uncomfortable. “What! Ew, no! Ew, ew, ew! No, what? No! They’re my—” Before Kobra could fumble the bag and reveal they were related, they elbowed him so he would shut up. Party didn’t care if Ghoul knew, but they had a feeling it would bother Kobra. “—colleague.”

“Totally platonic,” Party assured.

“Ooo-kay.” And with Ghoul’s uncertain reply followed another awkward silence. 

“You know what?” Kobra told Ghoul. “We’ll be back in five.” He grabbed Party and dragged them out of the room. All they could offer Ghoul was an apologetic shrug before they were whisked away next door.

“Why does Ghoul call you girlfriend?” was the first thing Kobra asked.

Party had expected his reaction. “It’s a long story,” they sighed. Kobra crossed his arm. ‘I’ve got time,’ his entire expression and posture said. “It’s a long story that can quickly be summed up! It’s just to annoy me.”

“Yeah well it annoys me,” Kobra grumbled.

“Stop being homophobic,” Party teased, because the best way to defuse the situation was to turn it into a joke. If Party acted like it wasn’t a big deal, Kobra wouldn’t think much of it.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not. I just don’t like him.”

“I know,” Party said to both his affirmations. “Ready to go back in? It’s rude to dip without saying a proper goodbye.”

Kobra followed them out the door and back into the room where Ghoul was patiently waiting for them.

“Alright fuckface, let's get this over with.” Party side eyed their brother, but decided not to comment. This was probably the nicest he was going to get.

“You’re so right,” Ghoul agreed, and maybe it was wrong, but Party was kind of enjoying the show. “I wouldn’t want to waste your precious time, so let’s cut to the chase. No, I will not let you see my face. I know, I know, it’s a real shame. You're clearly missing out—just ask Party!”

Never mind it being fun to watch. Party was going to strangle it the next chance they got. Kobra looked at them dejectedly, and they flashed their best attempt at a smile. “Cool, so we won’t get anything out of Ghoul today. How ‘bout we call it a day?”

Kobra pointed at Ghoul, seething. “This is not over. I will be back.”

Ghoul simply laughed and did a whole show of shivering. At that very moment, the cell was protecting it more than holding it captive. “Oh, I'm so scared.”

Before Kobra could add anything, Party grabbed his sleeve. It was their turn to drag their sibling out of the room. Maybe it would be wiser to wait until they’d both calmed down before him and Ghoul met again.

Children, the lot of them were. Literal children.

Party dragged Kobra all the way to their usual table, pulling a chair so he would sit down. They’d decided they would wait for Jet before making any decisions. The last thing they needed was a feud between their brother and their… whatever Ghoul was to them.

They wished circumstances were different. In an ideal world, Party would’ve fallen for someone available. It could’ve been Party and Ghoul, two regular people. It could’ve helped them annoy the shit out of Kobra, and the four of them—Party, Kobra, Ghoul and Jet—could’ve hung out without being at each other’s throats.

Oh, well. It was foolish to wish for things to be different. Party could dream on and on about things being different, but, in the end, it would only make them more sad when reality reigned their thoughts back in.

“What’s up, gays!” Jet exclaimed, slamming the door open.

“Kobra introduced himself to Ghoul!” Party informed her in lieu of an explanation. They figured that explained plenty in and of itself.

“Ah, ”said Jet, proving Party right.

Kobra groaned, looking up at Jet. “I miss thirty minutes ago when I’d never spoken to it. I wish I could take back that five minutes of my time. Such precious moments, wasted away.”

Party whacked him in the back of the head. Lightly. “Stop being dramatic.”

“I can’t wait to meet your real boyfriend,” Kobra said with a sigh. “I bet he’s nicer than Fun fucking Ghoul.”

Sitting down next to them, Jet raised her eyebrows. “Context? I feel like I missed something.”

“Party’s in—” he interrupted himself, glancing at his sibling. “I mean, Party will tell you the good news themself.”

They smiled, but they felt miserable inside. Lying to Kobra could be considered a passtime, but they didn’t want to lie to Jet . They had too much respect for her. Couldn’t Kobra have ripped off the bandaid? The little shit liked meddling way too much for his own good. “It’s official!” they exclaimed, hoping the cheer in their voice didn’t sound as fake as it felt. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Wait, I thought that had already happened,” was Jet’s answer. So much for delighted surprise.

“Er, no.”

“Oh. Oh! In that case, happy for you!” Maybe she wasn’t surprised, but she sounded delighted, at least. Which only made it worse, considering the fact that none of it was true. The relationship was nothing but a way to cover up Party’s feelings and get Kobra off their back, but now Jet knew and Ghoul knew—kind of?—and the way things were going, it was only a matter of time before it exploded in Party’s face.

They guessed they would relish in the peace while they still could.

♡

“So, a boyfriend, huh?” Ghoul asked when Party visited him again.

Jet and Kobra had agreed that the best way to get Ghoul to crack was to send Party in alone. Of course, Party themself hadn’t had a say in this. They’d simply been informed of the development after the two had made up their mind. Their main argument was that they were the one Ghoul seemed to trust the most.

Actually, that was their entire argument.

Anyway. So there Party was, forced to  face the consequences of their actions.

They walked closer to the transparent wall between them and Ghoul. “It’s actually pretty stupid,” they said after checking to see if the audio recording was on. It was not. “Wanna hear the story?”

“Sure.” Gesturing at his cell, Ghoul added, “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

Obviously, Party wasn’t going to tell it the entire story. They’d save the last of their dignity. Ghoul didn’t need to know about their embarrassing crush.

“So Kobra, the dude you saw this morning, strives to be as annoying as he can be. You two have a lot in common, actually!”

Ghoul still had his mask on, but Party had an idea of the type of expression he was pulling underneath it. “I must’ve missed the part where you told me the story.”

Party laughed. “I was getting at it! I love Kobra, he’s just a piece of shit. But in a good kind of way, y’know. So yeah, he got it into his head that I was going out with some dude—I’m not, by the way, I forgot to say that—and he’s been teasing me mercilessly .”

“ No . Party, tell me you didn’t.”

“I did. I told him he was right. But Ghoul, you have no idea how bad it was,” they insisted.

Ghoul chuckled, and Party had forgotten how cute that sound was. “I mean, it’s kind of a relief. I don’t think your hypothetical boyfriend would’ve loved knowing some random dude was hitting on you every time you saw him.”

“Haha, yeah,” Party laughed, confused.

It sounded like Ghoul was talking about himself. But surely he didn’t mean it like that . Surely it meant it in a funny, no homo kind of way. It was the only possible explanation, right?

Right?

It was more than enough to send Party spiraling.

No, what Ghoul had said made sense. Of course he was aware that its jokes were borderline flirty. This had to be another one of his funny little sentences. Ha! Good one, Ghoul, but Party was not going to fall for it. Besides, bros did that all the time. Jokingly flirting with your rival was totally normal, and obviously what Ghoul was referring to. It had promised Kobra he wasn’t interested in them, after all. The only reason Party was making a big deal out of it was because they had a big fat crush on Ghoul.

Speaking of Ghoul. Party had kind of totally zoned out in front of it. This was so embarrassing.

“Hey, you’re back!” Aaand he’d noticed. “Do you think you could sneak in a burger for me? Prison food kind of sucks.”

“What? Burger, yeah.”

“Thanks babe!” Ghoul exclaimed, and Party could see it wink behind the mask.

They felt the heat rise to their cheeks and decided retreat was the wisest course of action. “Ha. I have to go.”

“Go… get me a burger? Wait, can you get me the veggie one from the little shop on the corner of 5th and John’s?”

Party didn’t waste any time replying. Time was of the essence: the more seconds spent in the room meant the more seconds Ghoul had to notice the blush on their cheeks, and they’d rather have it not notice at all. They walked backwards out of the room, as was the norm after being asked for a veggie burger.

Their love life was a joke.

Chapter Text

Ghoul had been locked up for a month and Party was losing their mind. Not as much as Jet, Kobra, Ghoul and Killjoy were, though. No, Party was slowly losing their entire fucking head because they were forced to watch all the others lose theirs. Too many people were losing their mind and it was hurting their brain.

Kobra, Jet and the entirety of Killjoy were losing their mind over Ghoul being difficult to crack. Since they couldn’t force Ghoul to remove his mask, time and effort were spent on trying—and failing—to convince it to reveal its face.

Ghoul, on the other hand, was starting to lose it under the pressure. He didn’t say, but Party—and everyone else, really, hence why they’d all started pressing more—could see it. If Killjoy continued to drill him questions, he would eventually slip up. It was inevitable.

And Party… Party didn’t know who to side with. They were torn in half: on the one hand, they were a superhero, so it was only logical for them to side with Killjoy. On the other hand, though, a teeny tiny part of them wanted to keep Ghoul’s identity all to themself. Knowing each other was their hidden secret, and they didn’t want to lose that to Killjoy, no matter how selfish it was. But that was just a teeny tiny part. The bigger part of that half was irritated because keeping its identity secret was practically Ghoul’s only request, and Killjoy was doing nothing to respect that. Where was the honor?

All of that to say that they were not feeling themself. At all. And they had a horrible feeling something horrible would happen. They just weren’t sure if the horrible thing was Ghoul or Killjoy giving up. The whole situation was just, well, horrible .

Even though Jet and Kobra had informed them a month ago that it only made sense for them to be the one to talk to Ghoul the most, Party had kind of… avoided it….

Truth be told, they didn’t know who they were doing it for—them or Ghoul. It was either very selfish or very thoughtful. Or both? They’d admitted to their friends that they felt it wasn’t moral to try and persuade Ghoul to give up its secret. Party had then proceeded to tell Kobra and Jet that they wouldn’t do it. Ghoul had asked for so few conditions, the least Killjoy could do was respect them. Sure, Party had been the one to tell Ghoul to make requests, but this only concerned the two of them. No one else had to know.

Jet and Kobra had been disappointed, but they’d understood. Party wouldn’t stop them from trying, and, in return, they wouldn’t force them to try. Their mutual understanding was probably the only thing keeping Party slightly sane. It was not easy to keep a clear head when your entire world was turning to shit right before your eyes.

… That might’ve been an over exaggeration, but they stood by it nonetheless.

Anyway, instead of talking to Ghoul, they’d avidly watched every interrogation footage. “Like a dog with its favorite toy,” Kobra had said. “Why don’t you interrogate it yourself if you’re so invested?”

Party hadn’t replied, because Kobra hadn’t expected an answer. He knew that they knew he knew they wouldn’t go back to interrogating Ghoul. They couldn’t help but wonder if they would’ve taken the ethical road if it had been someone else than Ghoul. Party kind of wanted to say yes, but, if they were being honest, they had a feeling the truth was… not yes….

So basically, that was the gist of why Party hadn’t visited Ghoul in almost a month. They’d meant to tell Ghoul, but they hadn’t had a chance to: now that they’d told Killjoy they wouldn’t interrogate it, they didn’t have a legitimate reason to see it anymore.

It sucked, but what could they do? (The answer was very simple: lie).

“Sorry Kobes, I’ll be coming home late tonight,” they lied. Actually, that part was the truth. The lie followed after.

Kobra frowned. “Why?”

The lie: “I’ve got some paperwork left to do. Last night’s burglar is going to be a pain for the insurance company.”

“Party Poison, you liar,” Kobra accused. If not for the very amused tone of his voice, Party would’ve been really worried. “You do not care enough about paperwork, much less insurance companies. You don’t have to hide your dates from me anymore.”

Ah . They should’ve known that was where he was going at. He’d sounded way too happy. What Kobra didn’t know was that Party had considered using that as an excuse, but they’d felt it was too close to their  truth. To them, that was.To Ghoul, it would’ve been enough of a lie. Which was partly why Party hadn’t started with that: it felt unfair to Ghoul. He already was their unwilling and unknowing boyfriend of sorts in Kobra’s eyes, they wouldn’t start planning dates it’d have to unwillingly and unknowingly attend. It just felt wrong.

“Shut the fuck up, Kobra,” Party said, neither confirming nor denying it. It was enough of a moral grey zone for them.

They didn’t go out of their way to go by unnoticed. If Kobra, for some reason, looked back on the night’s footage, he would be able to see Party go down to Ghoul’s cell, but really, why would he? 

Once Jet and Kobra had left HQ, they walked all the way to the detention center—which wasn’t a particularly long way. Ghoul was currently held in the detention center attached to HQ. Since Killjoy didn’t know who he was, they couldn’t discover any other crimes he might’ve made under its civilian name. Because they couldn't process him accordingly, they’d left him in the temporary detention center.

To be fair, temporary wasn’t all that accurate. While most criminals ended up leaving it, a lot actually stayed there indefinitely. And not just the unidentified one. Just as some criminals weren’t ever locked up there in the first place. For instance, Dracs and Crows were sent straight to a special BL/ind-related detention center, where a cell was bound to be waiting for them from the very moment they were arrested.

Party made their way down the stairs, dreading them and Ghoul’s reunion. The last time they’d ghosted Ghoul, it had not gone over well. And that had only been for three days. It had been weeks since they’d last spoken.

“Oh my God , I already fucking told you. No, I will not be revealing m—” Ghoul stopped its whining when he saw who had just gone through the door.

“Finally ” the killjoy interrogating it sighed, hurrying out of the room. They probably though Party was there to relieve them.

“Hey Ghoulie,” Party hesitantly greeted, sitting down in front of the cell’s window pane.

“Oh, hi Party. Didn’t expect to see you.”

They winced. Understatement of the year. Part of them wanted to explain, but they weren’t sure Ghoul wanted to hear it. More importantly, they weren’t sure it was worth the risk of exposing themself. ‘Haha, sorry Ghoul, I couldn’t visit because you’re so hot and sexy and I want that to remain a secret from the general public.’ Yeah, that would’ve gone over well.

Instead, they remained silent, self-consciously scratching the back of their head.

Ghoul didn’t initiate a conversation either, though, so all they were really both doing was just staring at anywhere but the other in silence.

“Are you here for Killjoy?” asked Ghoul, which only really stood as a way of asking if he could remove his mask without Party exposing him. They shook their head and, sure enough, Ghoul removed the zombie face from its own face. “The mask doesn’t breathe all that well,” it explained. “I hadn’t planned on wearing it in prison when I bought it.”

For some reason, Ghoul buying his crime mask in a normal retail store was a funny thought to them. It seemed so anticlimactic.

“Don’t let them see your face.”

Party frowned. They hadn’t planned on saying that. At all. They hadn’t even been thinking about it. One second, they were laughing over the mental image of Ghoul buying a Frankenstein-like mask and the next, that had just slipped out.

“Um. Wasn’t planning on it, but okay?” Ghoul was frowning too, but without his mask, he couldn’t hide his expression, and he had a very expressive face. Seeing it only confirmed what Party had been losing their mind over: it was getting closer and closer to giving in to Killjoy’s constant insistence. 

They vividly shook their head. “I mean it. You can’t let them win. I’m not even supposed to be here, I just—this was the only thing you wanted. You only asked for one thing , and they won’t even let you have it. You have to fight for yourself, because no one else will. You’re a supervillain, Ghoul. No one will say a word about the way Killjoy goes at getting what they want because you’re condemned in their minds, but that doesn’t mean you should let them. Your surrender was conditional, and don’t you let anyone forget it.”

Ghoul stared at them blankly until the stare grew too long and Party had to look away. “I also asked for no kiwis.”

That was enough to bring Party’s eyes back to it, annoyed. “Why would you ignore my entire speech to say that?”

“I’m not ignoring it, I have to dismantle it in my head so I can process it and I had to get you breezing past my kiwi allergy out of the way,” he said, and Party couldn’t tell if it was serious or joking. Maybe both? “You did just say a lot of things I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to say.”

“Heh. You would be right to assume that.”

“Quick question, though. Why?”

Why indeed. “I… don’t know. I wasn’t thinking,” they admitted. “I just—I don’t like what they’re doing. I still have a set of morals outside of Killjoy. I’m not stopping them from interrogating you, but they’ve been made aware of my stance and they respect it.”

“Do they respect you telling me not to give them what they want?” Ghoul asked. This time, Party had no trouble identifying it as a joke.

“Ha-ha,” was their reply. “I’ll just let you fuck yourself over next time.”

Ghoul smiled fondly. “I remember you saying something like that to me once.”

Party cocked their head, trying to pinpoint the time it was talking about.

“The first time we met,” Ghoul smiled. “Or well, the first time you saw me without a mask, back in the alley. You were so fucking sure you were my savior,” he laughed, reminiscing.

“You remembered,” Party said softly, in awe, before catching up to the rest of his sentence. “Oh, fuck off.”

In hindsight, Ghoul was more than perfectly able to handle himself in a fight—and it had, countless times, against Party, no less—but how could they have possibly known that at the time? “You were an asshole about it. I can’t just walk by street fights in the off chance that one of the fighters is a closeted supervillain.”

“I was an asshole? Party. Party, babe, come on. You were fucking full of yourself.”

Party waved the insult away, grinning to themself. They’d missed their easy banter. The pet names weren’t hurting either, but that was just for them to know. They hated how Kobra was right: a pretty boy had cussed them out, and they had fallen for it. God, they were so predictable.

“I missed you,” Ghoul said, echoing Party’s thoughts.

“Yeah,” Party emotionally agreed. “I’d miss me too.”

Ghoul gasped. “Bastard!”

Party innocently raised both their hands. “What? It’s true.”

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say!”

“Oh, I see.” They smirked. “You only said you missed me because you wanted me to say it back. And I’m the bastard.”

It shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

“‘Well yeah ,’” Party repeated in a mocking voice.

“I think you’re wrong, by the way,” Ghoul said, and Party truly had no idea what it was talking about. “Your speech,” he added, as though he’d read their thoughts. “I didn’t read your thoughts, your face says enough. Stop looking stupid.”

“I don’t control that!” they protested. Then, “What about my speech?”

“You said no one would fight for me.”

Party raised an eyebrow. “And no one will.”

Ghoul shook his head, looking down as a shy smile grew on his face. “That’s not true, though. You already did.”

“I—what?”

“I don’t think you meant to be wrong. But you wouldn’t have told me all that if you weren’t. I don’t know why you chose to, but thank you. Or thank the part of you that did without you meaning to. But you’ve been fighting for me since the beginning.”

“Have I?” they asked, dubious.

“The only reason I’ve had to fight for myself to begin with is because you fought for me first, Pois. I told you to arrest me. You refused. I didn’t surrender on conditions, I listened to you and then passed out. You could’ve just as easily locked me up, but you didn’t. Again, I don’t know why, but frankly, it doesn’t really matter. Thanks anyway.”

“Huh,” was the only thing Party could come up with, because huh ?

Ghoul shrugged. “I don’t know. Sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to piece your actions apart or whatever. You just don’t make sense.”

“And you do?” The question begged to be asked, because what the genuine fuck?

When they got home that night—many, many hours later—they still hadn’t unpacted what Ghoul had laid out flat.

“You already did.”

And he was right. They had, and they hadn’t even realized it. Party had been in Ghoul’s corner, and it had noticed before them. Sure, they’d known all along that they were biased, but they’d kept on finding excuses for their behavior. And then, at some point, they’d just continued acting that way and had stopped looking for excuses, but they’d never thought of it as fighting for Ghoul.

But Ghoul had, and, somehow, that made all the difference. They didn’t know how, they didn’t know why, but it changed the entire game. And it terrified them.

They’d thought of it as losing versus winning, a patient game of moving pawns, but was there really any losing or winning to do when both unknowingly played on the same side?

Chapter Text

Party was laid out on their bed, wide awake. Kobra had gone to sleep two hours ago, which meant he was gone out cold. Like a stone or however that saying went.

They couldn’t stop thinking about Ghoul.

Not that that was anything new, but….

But this time, they couldn’t get it out of their head. What he’d said resonated with them, even days after their last conversation. It had changed their entire perspective on the last few months of knowing Ghoul.

For starters, when had they started… fighting for it… as Ghoul had put it? Because they vividly remembered the feelings of defeat they’d experienced the first few times they’d failed to capture it, and they hadn’t imagined that. That had been genuine disappointment.

Maybe it dated back to the time Ghoul had walked away. Back when Party had been open, vulnerable, and Ghoul had simply walked away. He could’ve taken off their mask and ruined their entire career, but he hadn’t. To this day, Party still didn’t understand why. And it had happened again, too. Hell, Ghoul had had the mask in its hands and he’d given it back. They made a mental note to ask Ghoul about it later.

To put it very fucking briefly, they hadn’t seen Ghoul in days and yet there he was, living rentfree in their head. Again, not particularly unusual these days.

They sighed, rolling around so they’d lay on their stomach instead of their back. Even though the temperature outside was freezing, it felt as though their skin was burning.

Ghoul was fucking hot too, said the part of their brain they were trying to shut up. They groaned, defeated: they really couldn’t escape.

Party didn’t understand Killjoy’s obsession with knowing who Ghoul was. Sure, they were biased, but they could still recognize that it was getting ridiculous. It had been over a month: they’d clearly gotten nothing out of him, apart from the knowledge of a kiwi allergy. Which Party was still mad they hadn’t learned of earlier: what if they’d fed one to a half-conscious Ghoul when the boy had been recovering at their great-aunt’s old condo?

But really, though. It had been over a month—even the fucking town residents had started to forget about Ghoul. They slept well at night knowing he was safely locked up and didn’t worry themselves over his true identity. Why couldn’t Killjoy do the same?

All Killjoy was doing was making Ghoul miserable. One would think rotting away in a jail cell was punishment enough, but no. No, Killjoy had to go in there every day and harass it with questions that borderline broke his surrender’s conditions. Party wished they could help him—they really did—but, at the same time, they couldn’t risk their place in the organization.

It wasn’t about the job, being a superhero. Well, it kind of was, but they were only in it for the community. They kept innocent—and sometimes a little less than innocent—citizens safe on a daily basis, and they couldn’t give that up.

They wished there was a miracle solution. A push it and it solves everything button. They guessed they could try bringing up the morality angle to Killjoy again, but they weren’t sure just how much it would help. Killjoy would probably whip out some excuse about the greater good and, really, who would Party be to argue against the greater good? It was a death trap they couldn’t dodge.

They’d just have to try, no matter the inevitable failure. Hey, maybe it would help them sleep better at night. But that was a problem for future Party. Current Party needed to start sleeping about three hours ago.

♡

“What’s the progress on the Fun Ghoul front?” they asked a tall lady that they couldn’t remember the name of. Was it Smith? Mason? She was a bureaucrat, so she had no use for a superhero name, which made her… unmemorable. Party winced to themself: that didn’t sound good.

She pursed her lips: “It’s not going as well as we would like, but we feel like we’re closing in. Something has got to give, and we’re hoping it’ll be him.”

Party chuckled awkwardly. “Yeaahh… about that…. I was thinking, maybe we should just let it rest?”

“Let it rest?”

“I mean, his surrender conditions were pretty clear, and it kind of feels like we’re doing everything to ignore them. Shouldn’t we just, like, let it go? Do we really need to see his face?” Ugh. This had no business being so embarrassing. 

She stopped walking so she could turn and stare at them. “Party Poison. You’re a smart kid. Don’t let your delusions get in the way of your service to Battery City.”

They scoffed, a bit offended, and when they replied, their voice was colder than it needed to be. “That wasn’t what I was doing. Fun Ghoul’s locked up. What’s it matter if we know what it looks like or not? We should be putting our time and energy on the criminals still running around freely in this city. That’s my biggest concern, not whatever delusions you seem to think I’m having.”

She shook her head and suddenly they felt like they were six again, helplessly walking up to the disappointed teacher’s desk because they didn’t know the answer to 1+1—spoiler alert: it was not 11. They hadn’t been the brightest kid out there, school-wise. Kobra had always been the smartest one out of the two siblings.

“And that’s why we have you, yeah? Jet Star has mentioned you wouldn’t interrogate the prisoner. See? You can look over this city and catch any supervillains you trouble your mind with, and we can keep running Killjoy the same way we always have. It’s worked for us all this time. Why change the formula if we like the outcome?”

It took every last inch of willpower in their body not to reply with something in the line of ‘because the formula fucking sucks’. Really, what kind of shit excuse was that? 

Oh, well. It wasn’t like they hadn’t expected that very outcome. Party loved being of service to the community, but the bureaucratic red tape could be a hassle—read: was a fucking pain in their ass.

They smiled briskly, and made a show of walking past her, trying their best to keep their irritation in check. She didn’t deserve them remembering her last name. All they needed to remember was her face and how much they loathed her.

The hatred didn’t come from nowhere, either. Needless to say, this was not the first time she’d flat out refused a proposal of theirs without listening to what they were saying. She simply dismissed their brilliant arguments to tell them that they would be doing things her way anyway.

Well, screw her. Party wouldn’t do anything, obviously—because they literally couldn’t—but they would at the very least keep on disliking her in her back. They prayed her coffee would be very room-temperature-y in the next month. And not in a I can finally drink this kind of way. No, in a this drink tastes as empty and void as my existence kind of way.

Party was too busy praying on Smith/Mason's coffee’s downfall to see Jet, queue them crashing into her.

She caught them to stabilize them, surprised. “Party! What are you doing here? You usually come in later than that.”

“Had to talk to someone,” they mumbled.

“About and to who?”

“Something and I don’t remember.”

She crossed her arms, but decided to drop it. “So what are you gonna do now?” she asked instead.

They shrugged. They hadn’t thought that far ahead. Truth be told, they were powerening on caffeine and caffeine alone. They’d barely gotten any sleep last night due to the unexpected heat and their brain. As soon as it had turned six—a time they’d deemed acceptable enough to start their day—they’d jumped out of bed and had marched to HQ, set on advocating for their unattainable goal of convincing Killjoy to leave Ghoul alone.

“You alright?” Jet inquired, picking up on… well, Party wasn’t sure what exactly she was picking up on. Their anger? Their tiredness? Their indecision?

“Couldn’t sleep last night. I think I’ll just stay at HQ and take things easy. I have some leftover paperwork to fill up from Tuesday.”

Jet nodded in sympathy, and Party dragged their feet to their usual table. They had the sinking feeling that today was going to suck .

They hadn’t placed much hope in their half-baked plan to talk to Killjoy about Ghoul, but they still couldn’t help but feel disappointed. They wish they could’ve done more to help him, but they couldn’t think of anything else.

Abandoning their paperwork—to their credit, they’d spent an entire thirty minutes on it—they got up to go look at Ghoul’s live cell footage. An interrogation would take place in a few minutes, and they didn’t want to miss it.  It wasn’t like they’d been particularly proactive with their paperwork anyway.

As if on cue, a killjoy entered the room just as they sat down in front of the screen.

Party kind of tuned the guy out in favor of watching Ghoul’s body language. They guessed it was to be expected, but he did not seem happy. It avoided looking directly at the killjoy, instead looking slightly on their right or left, down, or away altogether.

“We could make your stay here so much more pleasant,” the killjoy told it. “We could even move you to a different, nicer prison.”

Party narrowed their eyes.

“Not that you’ve got a bad setup here,” the killjoy continued. “It’s just that it would be a shame if your bathroom access were to be revoked.”

Party leaned back on their chair, disgusted. Even if what the killjoy was insinuating was possible—which it weren’t—surely threats couldn’t be an acceptable way to get Ghoul to reveal his face? Killjoy weren’t allowed to take away rights from prisoners unless it was a (temporary) punishment. And that only worked if the prisoner was doing something wrong to begin with. Ghoul refusing to show its face didn’t fall in that category.

They turned their attention back to the screen, only to hear the killjoy sprouting some more nonsense. Pissed off, they pressed a button that made a buzzing sound in the cell room, cutting the killjoy short. He looked straight into the camera, annoyed, before making his way out of the room. As he walked away, Ghoul raised its head to look up at the camera, probably questioning the reason for the interruption.

They allowed himself a few seconds of staring at it before leaving to meet the killjoy halfway.

“What the fuck was that back there?” they spat. “You know as well as I do that we can’t take away basic prisoner rights unless the situation calls for it. Fun Ghoul hasn’t been violent or a danger to himself or others, hasn’t been disobedient, hasn’t done anything to warrant this!”

The killjoy snorted, like what Party was saying was funny. “But he doesn’t know that, does he?”

“Wh—” They were left speechless. Was this kid really throwing empty threats at Ghoul in the hopes that he wouldn’t call his bluff?

The other didn’t let their silence stop him from elaborating on his thoughts. “The shit’s annoying as fuck anyway. He’s refusing to answer our questions and ignoring us, which could be considered as insubordinate, by the way. Hey, maybe I should file a demand for prisoner punishment.”

“It’s not refusing to answer your questions, dipshit! He’s merely exercising his rights! He surrendered on conditions, you can’t bully it into revealing anything!”

“Jesus, what’s up your ass this morning?” the killjoy asked, but his joke fell flat. He nervously replaced his mask before adding on, “Killjoy said I could go to whatever means necessary to get him to talk. Or, well, remove his mask.”

Party gaped at him. They were nothing short of fucking horrified. “Alright, what the fuck?” they asked, because, alright, what the fuck ?

“That’s what Tanner said! I thought it was alright.” 

Tanner. That was the name of that unpleasant woman. They knew it was some sort of medieval job kind of last name.

Party took a deep sigh, looking back at the killjoy. It wasn’t his fault, they reminded themself. He was probably new, and ate Tanner’s instructions right up. “No, it’s not okay. It’s very wrong. You can’t threaten prisoners with removal of rights if they aren’t aware of said rights. No matter how annoying the prisoner is, no matter what Tanner says.”

“Oh,” he said, dumbly, and Party almost felt bad for him. “I didn’t know.”

That kind of explained why he’d been such an asshole about it. Not to misunderstand: Party was still very pissed, but they could understand his thought process. He’d tried to turn the whole thing into a joke, wrongfully believing that Party followed the same mentality Tanner did.

At least he’d seemed apologetic after the fact, but Party couldn’t help but be worried. Just how many others had Tanner given the same instructions to? Party had caught one and set him on the right track, but they weren’t always at HQ. Hell, they weren’t even supposed to be here right now. They’d usually still be sleeping at that time!

Fucking Tanner. They knew they’d been right not to like her.

How could Killjoy pride itself on integrality when people like Tanner pulled shit like this? They groaned, sinking to the floor. They leaned on the wall, watching superheroes walk past them, merrily going on about their day.

“Party? What the fuck are you doing on the floor?”

They raised their eyes to find their brother staring at them in concern. “I’m exhausted, Kobes.”

Brows furrowed, Kobra sat down next to them, hesitantly enveloping them in a hug, and Party felt like maybe things would be alright.

♡

Nothing was alright.

They didn’t know how they’d gotten here. One minute, they were home, angrily frying up vegetables to try and get over the frustrations their morning had brought, and the next, they were back at HQ, walking down the corridor leading to Ghoul’s cell.

It was the dead of night, this part of the building mostly empty. Most superheroes were out on their respective calls, and Party was supposed to be sleeping. They were supposed to be sleeping—and as far as Kobra knew, they were—and yet here they were, about to do the stupidest, most reckless thing they’d ever done in their life. And this time, they weren’t even exaggerating.

The rational part of their brain knew they were acting out on a lack of sleep, that they weren’t thinking clearly. The other part? Well, the other part of their brain was the only one awake at the moment.

That other part of their brain was the same that punched in the bypass code on Ghoul’s cell’s little keypad, unlocking the cell.

From the moment they’d walked in, Ghoul had been staring, backing away the closer Party got. Not that he knew that it was Party. They were being stupid and reckless, but they weren’t stupid or reckless enough to let themself be captured by the cameras. They were dressed in black, and had a blank mask covering their entire face. They hadn’t even used their employee code, going for the security override one. It was significantly larger and only meant to be used in an emergency, but every killjoy had access to it. It couldn’t be traced back to them.

Party opened the door, stepping aside to let Ghoul out. It stared for several more seconds, and everything in his body language screamed reluctance. Annoyed, Party motioned for him to hurry. They really didn’t have all day.

Ghoul hesitantly made its way towards them. “Who are you?” he asked as he walked past them. For anonymity’s sake, Party didn’t answer, choosing to stay silent.

They walked back out of the room, methodically working through the locked doors. Again, for obvious reasons, swiping their access card was out of the question, so they had no choice but to type the code again. After so many uses of it, it was only a matter of time until concerned killjoys flooded the place, and Party really didn’t want to still be there when that happened.

“Hey! Hold up!”

Party froze as they looked back, finding a killjoy in the distance. They were almost out. They just had to make it through the emergency exit door.

Without thinking, they grabbed Ghoul’s wrist, running towards the exit at high speed.

Apparently, that had been a mistake. Ghoul was very obviously staring at their hand on his wrist.

“ You… ” he started, and Party could heard the pieces of the puzzle arrange themselves in his head.

Party ran faster, effectively cutting it off.

When they made it out HQ, a small gathering of killjoys was fast on their track. Ghoul halted, facing them, and Party impatiently pulled on his wrist. They had to get a move on right the fuck now.

Ghoul held out a hand, and Party decided to give him five seconds. Five seconds, or they were lifting it off the fucking ground and running. 

Electricity crackled at his fingertips and, okay, maybe he could get more than five seconds.

At the sight of the sparks, the killjoys slightly recoiled. They’d all heard horror tales of the shock taking Jet out during their failed capture attempt. Party couldn’t blame them. They’d taken a step back, too. Ghoul didn’t know who they were—at least, not for sure. It could turn on them at any time.

“Feel free to take away my rights for that !” Ghoul yelled as he sent out a wave of electricity the killjoys’ way. They were knocked to the ground, and Ghoul whirled around to look at Party, arms crossed.

Maybe another step back was in order, they thought, taking another step back.

“I won’t hurt you! You just broke me out of prison, dumbass,” it said, and Party could hear the disarray in its voice. He uncrossed his arms, and when he spoke again, its voice was softer. “Thank you.”

From afar, the killjoys that had been sent to the floor started to groan, and out of a silent mutual accord, Party and Ghoul ran away, each in a different direction.

Party didn’t stop running until they were back in their bed, the mask they’d used thrown away in an industrial garbage container out on the fifth, Kobra—and Killjoy—none the wiser to their nightly whereabouts.

Chapter Text

Party woke up to Kobra waiting for them at the kitchen table.

“I was going to wake you up, but I figured you’d need as much sleep as you could get,” Kobra told them, smiling sadly.

They sat down across from him. “What's up?”

“Fun Ghoul… Fun Ghoul escaped, Party.”

Feigning surprise, they brought a hand to their mouth. “What?”

“He was broken out, more exactly. We don’t know who did it yet, but we’ll find them. I’m sorry, Pois.”

“What do you mean, broken out?” They needed to know what Killjoy knew. They couldn’t risk slipping up and accidentally revealing something that wasn’t public yet.

“So far, our two options are new supervillain or corrupted killjoy.”

Yikes. That second option didn’t bode well for Party. At least Kobra didn’t seem to suspect them. Their only option was to play dumb: “Shit. Can I see the footage? I don’t understand how this could’ve happened.”

“Me neither,” Kobra sighed. “Whoever did it knew the security override code. That means we’ve either been betrayed or breached. That’s shit indeed. Killjoy’s requested a mandatory meeting tonight. They’ll show everyone the footage there.”

“My God,” they let out. Now that they’d had some sleep—admittedly not a lot: they’d been gone for a good part of their night—the gravity of what they’d just done had hit them.

Party had broken a class-four—or was it five now? Surely escaping prison warranted being bumped up a class—criminal out of a Killjoy detention center.

If the truth got out, they’d be locked away for life. They really needed to watch their mouth. A single mistake could cost them everything. There was no going back now, just like there was no admitting their wrongs. It wouldn’t do any good.

Kobra wordlessly handed them a burnt toast, and they ate it without question. Their brother was a shit cook, but they were too tired, and frankly, too fucking terrified to really process the bread’s taste or texture.

They’d just committed fucking treason, and they were eating shitty toast like it was nothing.

“How long do you think until we see him again?” Kobra asked, seemingly out of the blue.

That was a good question, actually. Party guessed it would either reappear instantly, or go off the grid. No in-betweens. They let Kobra in on their thoughts, and he hummed agreeingly.

The toaster beeped and Party jumped before realizing where the sound came from. Fuck, they were so out of it. They needed to get a grasp about ten minutes ago. Kobra got up to retrieve his toast, and the two siblings finished their meal in silence.

♡

The Killjoy meeting was cut short by the ringing of an alarm, and Party had never been more grateful for a supervillain before. The entire thing had just been torture. Tanner—annoying lady influencing the younger killjoys—kept on talking about how the whole thing had been an unpreventable tragedy. Which, first off, not true. If she’d listened to their concerns, it wouldn't have come to that, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was how easy breaking in and out of the detention center had been. The fact that no one had managed to stop them was honestly appalling.

When they’d brought it up to her—only the last part, obviously—she’d sent a death glare their way, so they’d raised their hands up in surrender. They considered their job raising awareness done anyway: many killjoys had pensively hummed, frowning.

In the end, no other concerns had been brought up, the alarm effectively putting a stop to the shitshow that the meeting had been.

“Fun Ghoul’s after BL/ind again,” a killjoy that had been on patrol duty whined, barging into the room, and Party was reminded of just how much they wanted to kiss him on the lips. Ghoul, that was. They didn’t particularly care about the killjoy.

Tanner groaned. “Party Poison, I’m putting you on this. For some reason I do not get, Fun Ghoul seems to appreciate you. I expect him back in his cell by the end of the day, capisce?”

Party made a noncommittal noise, but got up nonetheless. They weren’t about to pass up an opportunity to see Ghoul. They hadn’t told Tanner they’d capisced her request anyway. The lady wasn’t even Italian to begin with.

Also, they were pretty sure she’d just insulted them, so fuck her. Or maybe she’d just expressed genuine confusion at Ghoul taking a liking to a superhero—Party or other—but fuck her anyway.

They picked their jacket up from the back of their chair, putting it on as they ran out of the conference room.

Even though they’d told Kobra they thought Ghoul would either act instantly or not at all, they couldn’t help but be surprised it had taken so little time. Wasn’t Ghoul tired? They knew they were!

Maybe you wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t spent the night busting your archnemesis/crush/friend(?) out of prison , the voice in their head said, but Party shushed it. It wasn’t like they felt bad about it.

And that was the scary thing. They didn’t actually have any remorse. Party simply didn’t regret helping Ghoul escape. The only thing gnawing away at them was worry over the fact that it might fuck everything up for themself, and that in itself was concerning. Like, if they were being honest, they felt as though they should be feeling bad about the whole ordeal, but, really? They were just pissed. Pissed at Tanner for the bullshit she’d pulled, pissed at Killjoy for turning a blind eye, and pissed at themself for having let it go on for so long.

God, they needed to book an appointment with their therapist. This much resentment couldn’t be good for anyone. Killjoy had a handful on a paycheck, but it wasn’t like they could casually walk in and share their feeling of guilt over not feeling guilt after breaking a public enemy out of prison. It was the most efficient way to get a ticket to a shiny jail cell of their own.

The car they were in pulled up in front of the Better Living facility, and Party gulped at the sight of it. They had to get their head in the game, because the whole thing was on fucking fire. If Ghoul wasn’t a class-five criminal, it definitely was one now . Or maybe that matter had already been settled after he’d illegally rejoined the outside world.

Party turned to one of the killjoys already on scene. “What the fuck happened here?”

“No clue! One minute I was walking, minding my business, doing my superhero duties, and then… bam! Fire.”

They sighed. That was so unclear and unhelpful. Not the killjoy’s fault, but damn. What were they supposed to do with this? “Alright, guess I’ve got it from here.”

“There are some BL/ind employees sitting on the sidewalk if you want to talk to them,” the killjoy told them, and Party nodded, grateful.

The aforementioned employees were of no help at all.

“Ugh. Did any one of you actually see Fun Ghoul?” they asked after five minutes of not getting any straight answers.

“Well… we heard he broke out of prison and suddenly our factory explodes? It being a coincidence just seems unlikely.”

Another employee scoffed. “Ugh, no, Jessica! I saw him, I told you! Unless you know someone else who wears a little zombie mask?”

At the mention of Ghoul’s mask, Party decided they’d heard enough and headed into the burning building. It would have to do as confirmation that it was actually in there.

Luckily, the fire hadn’t spread to that part of the building—and theoretically shouldn’t: firefighters were drowning the flames out as Party marched into the factory—but the air was running low.

“Ghoul?” they called out. “Where the fuck are you?”

No answer. Groaning, they turned on their radio. “Hey, Kobes. Say you were a criminal targeting a BL/ind factory. What’s the hotspot? Like where would I want to go?”

“Okay, so for starters, you’re gonna want to bring the workers back to HQ, we need to interview them. I pulled up what we know about this place, and we highly suspect that this factory is used to create tons of illegal shit. And, following that logic, if you were a supervillain targeting BL/ind, you’d either want their production receipts, upstairs, to expose them, or you’d want to collect the products. Or both, y’know.”

Party thanked him and turned off the radio, their stare alternating between the staircase in front of them and the alleyway they were in. What was Ghoul more interested in?

If it was to be believed, Ghoul held a grudge against Korse. He claimed he wasn’t out after Better Living, but rather the man running it. Party just had to figure out whether he thought robbing him would hurt more than exposing him, or vice versa.

It all depended on what BL/ind was producing behind the walls of its factory, but that information was off-limit. It could range from anywhere between drugs to weapons. Or money. Maybe it was just money, too. Well. Those three options could be attractive to Ghoul.

They were about to run down the hallway when they heard a loud clang and a swear in what was definitely Ghoul’s voice upstairs, so they runned up the stairs instead.

“Come on, you can’t stay here!” they yelled.

They finally reached the second floor, only to find Ghoul sat down on the fucking carpet, his mask set down next to it as he dug through files. Files made out of paper. In a fucking fire. Party opened their mouth to comment on it, but Ghoul beat them to it.

“Party, sweetie, I’m gonna need you to shut up for three minutes, alright?” he briskly said.

They frowned. “What are you even looking for?” they asked, completely ignoring its previous request.

Ghoul set down the files, glaring. “Dirt.”

Party walked closer, grabbing a pile of paper so they could page through them. They weren’t sure what exactly they were looking for, but an extra pair of eyes couldn’t hurt, right? Besides, they really needed to get out of here, so anything to make things go faster.

Ghoul glanced at them and the pile they were holding. “I already went through that.”

Oh. So much for productivity. The pile was back on the desktop they’d picked it up from when something caught their eye. “Hey, what’s this?” they asked Ghoul, grabbing an envelope slid between two papers.

Ghoul's eyes lit up. “Oh, shit! Open it! Is there a number on it? Please let there be a number on it.”

They frowned. How had it known there would be a number? “Umn, yeah, actually. Why? What is it?”

He waved their concerns away, jumping to access the computer on the desk. “No time. Read it to me.”

Still frowning, they recited the combination as Ghoul typed it in with the keyboard.

“You’re an angel,” he said, relieved.

Party expectantly looked at him, arms crossed. “That’s great. Now care to tell me what the fuck is going on? There’s a fucking fire, Ghoul, we’ve got to go!”

“Hush! I’m trying to hear!” it protested, cranking up the volume. It was only then that Party realized something was playing.

“What is this?” they asked, and Ghoul glared at them. “Is it a recording?”

“Party, for the love of everything that is holy, please stop talking. I’m piggybacking a live conversation, got it? And I say this with love, but this is a one time opportunity, so I’d really appreciate it if you could just not.”

Party hmpfed, but kept their mouth closed, closing in so they could hear the communication too.

“Do you have a visual on him?” a female voice said. Party couldn’t quite place it, but it sounded awfully familiar.

“Who’s talking?” they asked Ghoul, but the latter only shrugged.

“All my employees are out front,” a male voice grumbled. “You’re the one who sent someone in. If anything, you should be the one with the visual.”

“For Christ’s sake,” the other voice said again, and not recognizing her was agonizing. It was just on the tip of their tongue. “We need the boy in our custody before we can reveal his identity and you know that. What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m telling you, that’s Sarah’s boy.”

“I don’t care whose boy it is or isn’t. If you want his identity revealed so bad, you’ll follow our procedures. Better Living needs me.”

“Oh fuck.” The swear slipped right out of their mouth. “Oh, fuck .”

Ghoul cocked its head, but before they could elaborate, the man spoke up again, confirming their suspicion. “Don’t flatter yourself, Tanner. Anyone could do your job. Now get the little shit back in custody before I order our guys to take him out with your guy as well.”

The communication ended, and Party turned wide eyes at Ghoul. “She works for Killjoy! Tanner, she’s on Killjoy’s payroll.”

Ghoul motioned for them to go on in an okay and? manner, and Party gaped at him. “ You knew?”

The boy shrugged. “Well, yeah? Why else would I be listening in on the conversation, genius?”

Party took a step back, shaken. “You knew someone from Killjoy was working hand in hand with BL/ind and you didn’t say anything?”

Ghoul scoffed. ”I mean, what was I supposed to say, Pois? You wouldn’t even have believed me!”

“That’s not—” They stopped themself, looking down.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Ghoul started walking away, but Party ran after it. “Wait, wait, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I was taken by surprise, I just. Just wait, please.”

Ghoul stared at them in disbelief. “Are you serious? Didn’t you hear what they just said? They want us dead, so chop-chop! And I’m not going back into custody, so we’re going in separate ways!”

“I’m going with you,” they mumbled.

“What?”

“I'm going with you!” they repeated, louder.

“I heard you the first time! No, you’re not!”

“What am I supposed to do? Go back to HQ and pretend everything’s fine? Killjoy’s been compromised!”

“Newflash, Party, it’s been compromised for a long time!”

“Why are you fighting me on this?”

“Because it’s stupid!” Ghoul yelled. “You have to go back”

“Fuck that!”

“No, not fuck that. Pois, I’m serious, you can’t just flip out on Killjoy!”

“That’s rich, coming from you. Besides, following you can’t be worse than breaking you out of jail!”

Ghoul visibly deflated. “What?” he asked in the tiniest voice.

“I—” they covered up their mouth, but the damage was already done. “Oh shit,” they added from behind their hand.

“So it really was you,” Ghoul breathed. “I wasn’t sure, but… why ?”

A chunk of ceiling crashed next to the two of them and they jumped. Doing a double take, they proposed the following: “How about this. We get out of here, and we talk it out somewhere safe.”

Ghoul pondered it. It genuinely looked torn. Party feared it was about to refuse when another part of the factory fell a few meters away from them. “Fine!” Ghoul reluctantly agreed. “But this is not over.”

Party smirked, offering it a hand. Ghoul glared, but placed its hand in theirs nonetheless. Amidst the chaos the fire had caused, no one noticed the two people running away into the night together.

Chapter Text

Party and Ghoul had found shelter in a park, more precisely in the little house part of the children’s playground. It was a tight fit, but they made it work. Probably only because Ghoul was pint-sized already, Party commented, and Ghoul looked like he was seconds away from walking out.

The lack of space was flagrant, but at least no one would see them unless they were attentively looking. And who would be paying attention to a kids’ house in the middle of the night? Especially when there was an ongoing fire a few blocks from there. One of those things was notably more interesting, and it wasn’t the playground.

“So are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Ghoul asked.

“There’s not a lot of place for an elephant,” Party tried to joke. Keyword: tried.

“Alright, so you start?”

Party… Party didn’t even know where to start. There was too much to unpack. “How long have you known about Tanner?”

Ghoul looked out the house’s tiny window. “A while. It’s not all Killjoy, Pois. It’s just her. She’s a liaison or whatever. Killjoy probably has a spy in BL/ind’s ranks, too.”

They sighed. “I know. It’s just that she was right under my nose this whole time, you know? And she was so unpleasant. She’s perfect for the job, really! You’d think, there’s no way she’s a spy, it’s like, it’s too evident. It’s so cliche it makes you think she’s legit. Guess she wasn’t, huh?”

“I’m sorry.”

Party smiled sadly. “It’s not your fault. I know what I said back there, but I don’t blame you for not telling me.”

Ghoul returned their smile. “Thanks.”

“So how’d you find out?”

“Through BL/ind’s radio channels. Where do you think I get all my info from?”

“Honestly? Killjoy.”

Ghoul snorted. “Oh, no. Your radio channels are impossible to break into. Kudos to your tech person. Killjoy’s defenses are impenetrable. It’s a great source of frustration for me.”

Party grinned. Kobra’s ego would never recover from this. They would never hear the end of this show of their technical genius. “I’ll make sure to tell him.”

“How?” Ghoul asked, and Party’s smile dropped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stir a can of bad worms.”

Ghoul seemed regretful, but he was right. If Party went through with following Ghoul, they couldn’t just go home at the end of the day. Kobra would want to know why they didn’t come back to Killjoy, and Party wasn’t about to drag him into this whole mole affair. Killjoy might have been infiltrated, but they still needed trustworthy people holding down the fort.

“It’s fine. So wait, how did you find out about the energy sphere?”

Ghoul laughed. “Oh, that? BL/ind again. Better Living Industries are not the only one taking advantage of Tanner spying on Killjoy. I might not be able to crack Killjoy’s defenses, but Tanner is out there giving all the information away.

Ugh. Just when they thought they couldn’t hate her more.

“The only time I managed to crack one of your channels was when you wanted me to. And you know how that ended. I still don’t think my ego has recovered from that one,” he chuckled, turning red.

Party felt bad for laughing, but it was actually kind of funny. They needed the distraction after the shit nights they’d had.

“There’s one thing I never understood. Why do you even have it out for BL/ind? Or Korse, whatever?”

Ghoul closed up like a clam. “My turn asking questions, now.”

Party knew when not to push, so they nodded. “I’m an open book.”

“Why did you break me out?”

“Funnily enough, Tanner.” Ugh again. The thought of her made them want to puke. “She really wants your identity exposed. Or BL/ind does? You know. Anyway, she was inciting impressionable killjoys to pull sketchy shit to try and get you to reveal who you were, and no one was putting a stop to it.”

“So you did.”

“So I did. I thought I’d done enough after I told Killjoy I wouldn’t interrogate you like they wanted me to, but it just got worse instead.”

Ghoul frowned. “You what? Why would you do that?”

“Because it breached your conditions. Your surrender was conditional.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you told me to. So again, why?”

Huh. Maybe Party wasn’t such an open book after all. They smiled. “Next question.”

“Fine” Ghoul declared, and Party had a feeling they’d just played themself. “I have it out for Korse because he killed my mom.”

Party’s shoulders dropped as they looked at Ghoul. “Ghoulie….”

“She was recruited by her boyfriend at the time. He was a douchebag, but the pay was good, you know? My mom was not a bad person.”

Party placed a comforting hand on its shoulders. “It’s okay, I believe you. You don’t have to tell me.”

Ghoul smiled, but they could see the sadness behind the front he was putting up. “I want to. I was nine when she joined. At the beginning, it was just a means to an end, meeting the rent for the month and all that. But you can’t always stay at the bottom of the organization, and so she was moved up. She hated it, Pois. She never told me, of course. Not about BL/ind, not about how she felt about it. She wanted to protect me.

“She endured it, but it got to be too much. I was twelve when she told me she wanted to go to the cops with it. It was the first time she’d admitted to being a part of it. I don’t know how Korse found out, but she was dead within the week. So yeah. Better Living Industries is full of shit and I’d love to see them burn to the ground, but all I care about is avenging my mom. And that starts with destroying Korse. I want him to look me in the eyes and regret being born”

“I’ll help you.”

Ghoul’s head snapped up at them. “What?”

“I said, I’ll help you. You bring down Korse, I free Killjoy, and we rid this city of BL/ind. Deal?”

For the second time that night, Ghoul stared at their extended hand. “Deal. But you owe me an answer.”

♡

Ghoul was taking a shower, which meant that Party had all the time in the world to think about what the fuck they’d just done.

For starters, they’d just deserted Killjoy. They wondered how the organization was going to cover that up. It was all temporary, they reminded themself. Once Tanner was out of there—and any other potential moles Ghoul might not be aware of as well—once the truth had been exposed, they’d claim back their place as a superhero.

In the meantime? In the meantime, they’d have to go mask shopping.

In the span of a day and a half, they’d a) helped a highly wanted criminal escape prison, and b) run away with said criminal in order to help it avenge his late mother. You know, as one does, brain-Party Poison sassed, and they couldn’t even be mad at themself for that. The whole thing was absolutely bonkers.

After shaking hands, they’d suggested hiding out at their grand-aunt’s, but Ghoul had wisely pointed out that Kobra might eventually check that, given as it was still a legal property of his and Party’s.

No, they’d gone to Ghoul's instead. Like, Ghoul’s actual apartment. The place where he lived. Its home. Party still hadn’t wrapped their head around that. Ghoul’s place.

The entire place smelled like it, and Party was going to die from it before they could even go out and face Better Living. Cause of death: Ghoul’s apartment.

Speaking of Ghoul.

“Pois! Come here!”

Party wasn’t quite sure why they were being called over, but they didn’t question it. They’d all forgotten about Ghoul taking a shower… right until they walked in to find him in nothing but a towel wrapped around its waist. They almost passed out right then and there.

Yep. Party was definitely dying in this apartment.

“Um, sorry, I forgot to knock, I thought I could come in,” they said, fighting hard to keep a blush off their cheeks.

Ghoul cocked its head, amusedly staring at them. “Don’t look so terrified, you might just make me self-conscious. I can’t possibly look that bad.”

Party started protesting as they frantically tried to explain that they were only flustered because they’d expected him to be dressed, that Ghoul looked perfectly fine—in a ‘nice bod, bro’, way, not a ‘oh my god you’re so hot marry me’ kind of way—only to shut up when they saw the look on Ghoul’s face. The bastard was laughing at them again.

“Not to pull the plug on whatever you’re attempting to do right now, but you’re a disaster. Stop talking,” Ghoul laughed, covering Party’s mouth with its left hand. Yep, that stopped any words that might've threatened to spill from ever being said.

“Anyway!” Ghoul said, removing his hand from Party’s mouth. “I need to buy groceries, wanna come with?”

“Couldn’t you have asked me that without bringing me here?” Party whined. Had all that mortification been that easy to avoid?

The other shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d have a mental breakdown over my half-naked body.”

How he could say that this nonchalantly was insulting, truly. It was so unfair to them that some people possessed the skill of talking to pretty people without having a full-on gay crisis, Party thought. Because they knew they were hot. That was never questioned. If they were talking to themself, they’d be at least a little flushed.

If they didn’t know for a fact that Ghoul was gay—or at least, definitely not straight, if the fit it threw when that one cosplayer at the Halloween party had insunated he might’ve been said anything—they might’ve thought he was one of those Straight Dude who were too insecure in their masculinity to like a nonbinary person. But no. The bastard was just blessed with an ability Party could only hope to have in their wildest dreams.

They kind of missed the days when they didn’t know what Ghoul looked like—it made jokingly flirting so much simpler. Well. They didn’t miss them all that much, either: Ghoul was really nice to look at.

“Hello? Earth to you? Groceries? Yes, no?”

“Um, yeah, sorry.”

Ghoul looked at them, shaking its head in amusement. Then, it did a double take. “Wait, why are you still in your suit?”

Party raised an eyebrow, confused. It wasn’t like they brought an extra change of clothes when they’d headed to HQ that morning. Finding out Killjoy had a spy in its midst hadn’t been a planned event. “‘Cause I don’t have any clothes?”

“What part of ‘make yourself at home’ did you not understand?” Ghoul asked, exasperated, and Party felt that was a bit unfair. ‘Make yourself at home’ meant you could sit on the person’s couch, it didn’t mean ‘go ahead and find yourself an outfit’.

Party shared that train of thought with Ghoul, who only rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll go with you. I’ll even show you the way to my room in this three room apartment. Do you want me to hold your hand while we’re at it?” Ghoul mocked, and Party only narrowed their eyes. Yes, they did want Ghoul to hold their hand, actually. Not that they voiced that thought. No, they took the higher road of silence instead.

“It’s not like I’d even fit in your clothes,” they remarked. Screw the higher road of silence. It was boring anyway.

Ghoul pulled a face. “Really? Back at it again with the short jokes?”

“It’s not so much a joke as it is the truth!”

His reply was dripping in sarcasm. “Well, then, Party Poison, allow me to introduce you to the concept of oversized clothing!”

Party crossed their arms, but followed him into the bedroom anyway, watching as he dug around its drawers in search of clothes that would fit them.

Eventually, it pulled out a few pieces of clothing. “There, that should do. It might be a bit small, but you wear tiny clothes anyway.”

Which wasn’t wrong, Party thought as they accepted the pile Ghoul handed to them.They left to go and get changed in the safety of the bathroom. Maybe Ghoul didn’t mind walking around in a towel, but Party was not letting him see them in their underwear.

Chapter Text

This was strangely domestic, Party thought as they caught their breath.

They’d only put half of Ghoul’s clothes on when he’d come knocking on the door, informing Party that the grocery store was closing in fifteen minutes. Party had thus had no choice but to hurry, and the two of them had run all the way to the store. Ghoul and them had only stopped running after they’d left the store with their groceries in hand.

“I need to sit down,” Party announced, crashing on the first bench they spotted.

“You’re a superhero, you and I both know running is not a problem for you.” Ghoul laughed, but he sat down next to them anyway. Hypocrite.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it!”

Ghoul laughed once more, and Party was reminded of how beautiful that sound was all over again. They let their eyes drift to its face, silently admiring it.

He had long lashes. He had long lashes, but they were almost all covered by its hair falling all over half of his face. Running for so long really had ruffled up its hair: fighting off the urge to tuck the messy strands behind its ears was proving to be the greatest battle Party had ever fought.

The greatest battle Party had ever fought… and then consequently lost. Before they could stop themself, their right hand had found its way to Ghoul’s dark hair, carefully tucking it away, biting their lip in concentration. Ghoul was talking: they could see his mouth moving, as well as the way he froze for an instant when Party closed in. As to what it was saying? Party had no idea. They were barely there. As a matter of fact, they almost missed what happened next.

Ghoul’s eyes dropped to their lips for a split second. The only reason Party noticed was because they’d shamelessly been staring at it to begin with.

As if they’d been burned, they removed their hand from Ghoul’s face and put distance between the two of them. They were ‘leaving room for Jesus,’ as their grand-aunt would’ve said. Party had always found that saying funny. That was a bit homosexual of Jesus. Why would he want to occupy the space between two gays?

They really needed to stop thinking about Jesus and homosexual tendencies. This was not the time for it.

Ghoul cleared its throat. “So, um, what do you think?”

Party looked up from the ground. With the distance, they could afford to look at Ghoul without falling into another gay panic. “Huh?” absently replied Party.

Ghoul bit his lip. “Never mind.” Party had never regretted being lost in thought more than at that very instant, because they really wished they could’ve known what he’d been saying. Ghoul didn’t give them time to mourn that knowledge, though: “Is their Majesty rested enough?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Party got up from the bench, their legs weaker than ever. Perhaps they’d talked too soon when they’d said they were ready to walk: they felt as though their knees were about to give out from under them.

The two of them walked in silence, each holding onto a bag of groceries, and Party couldn’t tell if the quiet was a blessing or a curse.

On one hand, they couldn’t say anything incriminating to Ghoul, but on the other hand, it gave them all the time to process what the fuck had just happened.

Ghoul had looked down to their lips. Ghoul had looked down to their lips, they hadn’t imagined that. That was a true thing that had happened, and Party didn’t know what to do with that.

Maybe his eyes had been tired and he’d looked down to let them rest? Party was taller than it, so it was possible that it had wanted a break from looking up. The proximity had just been an unfortunate coincidence: from afar, Ghoul looking down slightly wouldn’t have made a big difference. Party’s mouth had just happened to be there. Surely that was the only possible explanation that made sense. Because the other one was just inconceivable.

Not that it mattered, anyway. At the end of the day, Party had pulled away. They’d pulled away, because they were a coward. They refused to believe Ghoul’s action meant anything more than a mistake. It had been a fluke. It had to have been.

If their outing had started out as domestic, it ended as awkward. The silence was deafening.

Reaching Ghoul’s apartment was a relief. They unpacked the groceries, and so they were forced to talk again. Putting away the groceries was a life buoy in a sea of tension. Whatever. Party was bad at metaphors. Or was it a comparison? They didn’t know: they’d failed the figures of speech part of their English classes every damned year they’d been forced to have it.

Since Party didn’t know where crackers were stocked in Ghoul's pantry, or where he put the milk in his fridge, they had no choice but to ask, and Ghoul had no choice but to answer. It was the perfect return to normalcy.

Once they were done, Party sighed happily. “Ugh, I don’t know about you, but I’m bone-tired.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration, either, they’d barely gotten any sleep in the last few days. And this specific day had been nothing but a whirlwind of emotion. They couldn’t believe it had only been a day since they’d broken Ghoul out of jail. From Kobra’s defeated face when he’d announced to Party that Ghoul had escaped to the Killjoy meeting to the BL/ind warehouse fire to finding out Tanner was a mole to giving up on their title as a superhero when they ran away with Ghoul to almost kissing Ghoul to now, Party wanted nothing but to crash on something soft and sleep.

However, Ghoul didn’t seem to agree. Or, at least, he was far from happy about it. When Party mentioned being tired, it visibly blanched.

Party frowned. “What?”

“Uh. About that,” he chuckled nervously. “It’s fine. I’ll take the couch.”

Oh. Oh, right. This was Ghoul’s three room apartment; this was Ghoul’s one bedroom apartment.

Blame their lack of filter: Party was quick to refuse. “Shut the fuck up, no you aren’t. It’s your house, take your own fucking bed. I’m not kicking you out of your room.”

Ghoul crossed his arms, standing his ground. “I’m not making you sleep on my couch.”

They defiantly stared at each other for seconds that turned into minutes, the two of them refusing to yield.

Now what, someone might ask? Now Party was sharing a bed that wasn’t theirs, terrified to even move a muscle. If the way the mattress wasn’t moving under them said anything, Ghoul was just as tense as they were.

This was ridiculous: at this rate, none of them would get any sleep. Ghoul should’ve let them crash on the couch. It would’ve saved them both precious time.

They felt something poke the side of their ribs. Wincing, they shifted to look over at the culprit. “What the fuck?”

Ghoul pulled back his finger. “You’re so tense it’s stressing me out. Relax.”

Party scowled, ready to tell him poking them wouldn’t help the cause when they realized they were noticeably less stiff. 

It smiled knowingly, and Party’s scowl deepened. Curse Ghoul and his shiteating grin. They had half a mind to kiss it right there and blame it on a lack of sleep. That excuse never worked, though, so they refrained.

Ghoul didn’t think of them like that anyway. Party was helping it bring Korse down: in Ghoul’s eyes, they were a glorified ally at best.

Well, maybe then he’d let them sleep on the couch, a voice in their head sassed. Party hated their brain, actually. What a shame they were stuck with it.

Party risked another glance at Ghoul, jealous to find it had dozed off already. That lucky motherfucker.

♡

Party hadn’t realized they’d fallen asleep. They’d blinked, and all of a sudden, they’d woken up in an entirely different position with no recollection of how they’d gotten there. Their fatigue really had been their greatest downfall.

‘But Party, isn’t falling asleep good when you’re tired’, one might say? To which Party would agree… it was all fun and games right up until the moment they woke up with their arm around Ghoul.

They cracked open an eye, trying to see if Ghoul was awake. They didn’t know if they were relieved or not when they noticed he wasn’t. It gave them the opportunity to remove their arm, but they didn’t want to risk waking Ghoul up. It wasn’t like they could help what they did when they slept. If they stayed very, very still, maybe Ghoul would shift and they could take their arm off of it without waking it up.

This was absolute torture. After what had to have been hours, in Party’s totally unbiased opinion, they even tried to go back to sleep. If they were to be stuck there, they could at least gain some more time to rest out of it. Their body didn’t want to hear it, though: they remained painfully awake and aware.

Party would intermittently open an eye to check on Ghoul, but he was infuriatingly still. Who the fuck stayed so still when they slept?

Growing more and more desperate, they looked again, only to find Ghoul staring back.

“Jesus fuck!” they swore, jumping out of bed due to the shock of seeing two unblinking eyes staring right into their soul.

“Sorry,” Ghoul said. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Wake me ?” they repeated, disbelieving. “I didn’t want to wake you !”

Ghoul sat up, curious. “How long have you been up?”

Party sank back on the bed, hiding their face in their hands. “Way too long. I was scared I’d wake you if I moved.”

“Oh man,” Ghoul sighed, a smile creeping onto its face.

His smile was infectious: one bloomed on Party’s face too as they realized what had transpired. “We were both awake,” they said, finishing Ghoul’s thoughts. That explained why the motherfucker was so still. Party knew no one moved so little when asleep.

Ghoul tugged at their wrist to get their attention. “Okay, let’s make a pact: we never do this again. I don’t care if you wake me up, this was the worst .” 

“Agreed!” Party was quick to agree. Wait.

Their look of panic must’ve been obvious, because Ghoul quickly added, “Not your arm, dumbass. I don’t care about that.”

“Oh. Yeah, I knew that,” they lied like a liar.

Ghoul saw right through them. “Liar,” it accused, smirking.

Bashful, Party looked away to hide their blush. “Yeah.”

♡

A few minutes later, the two of them were sat at Ghoul’s table, eating breakfast, and things started getting serious… er.

“We need to start planning,” Ghoul said in between mouthfuls of food.

“First off, gross, but what do you have in mind?”

Ghoul considered this. “I was thinking we could try to get an audio recording of Tanner speaking to BL/ind. It won’t do much, but it’s something .”

He wasn’t wrong: in the eyes of the general population, Better Living industries was nothing more than, well, an industry. At best, it was one that dabbled in malpractice, but as did every other big company. Tanner and BL/ind working together wouldn’t raise any big flags for civilians. Exposing her would only alert Killjoy. While that was a good thing in itself, it wouldn’t help bring down BL/ind.

However, if they could expose Korse as well, they could strike and take both him and Tanner out, shaking BL/ind at its very foundations. Without its core and its most influential ally, Better Living had nothing.

Party shared this with Ghoul, adding, “But I don’t know how we can achieve that.”

It hummed pensively, and his thoughtful expression morphed into a grin. “You’re thinking like a superhero. You won’t get anything done with that mindset. The fun thing about being a supervillain is that you don’t have to ask for permission.”

They cocked an eyebrow, waiting for it to elaborate.

“They’re bound to have something beneficial to Tanner they can hold over her. Either that, or she was a BL/ind employee before joining Killjoy. Whichever it is, they’re going to want to have a record of that. We find the documents, and we expose them.”

Party didn't mean to, but they couldn’t help but glare at Ghoul. “The last time Killjoy tried that, you blew up our evidence.”

“Ha. Yeah… sorry about that. But this time, they won’t be expecting us.”

“And why is that?”

Ghoul grinned in a way that was nothing short of evil. “Because they’ll be too busy thinking we’re somewhere else.”

As hot as Ghoul looked when he was evilly plotting, Party really had no idea what it was on about. Genuinely, they asked, “What?”

Ghoul pouted. “Why are you ruining my big reveal?”

“Because I don’t know what your big reveal is!”

“Ugh. I’ll plant a bomb in a secondary BL/ind building, so they’ll think that’s where I am. And while they all scramble to catch me, we’ll be somewhere else entirely, getting everything we need to begin tearing them down.”

An idea started to form in Party’s head. “What if… what if I distracted them?”

“What do you mean?”

“BL/ind—and Killjoy—will get tired of chasing after something that’s not there. If there’s no sign of malevolent activity, they’ll pin it on a remote attack or worse: an accident. If that happens, they’ll grow more vigilant, and they might figure out what’s happening. If I’m on site, though….”

“No. No way,” Ghoul declared, vigorously shaking its head.

“Do you not trust me? It’s a good plan.”

“Yeah, it’s a good plan, apart from the fact that you set both BL/ind and Killjoy after you. You’re not putting yourself in danger like that, no.”

Party scoffed. “No offense, Ghoulie, but I’ve been putting myself in danger like that for years . This isn’t any different.”

“Pois, I’m serious. I’ll do it, I’ll stay behind.”

“That’s just stupid! They’ll be expecting you! And you’re way more wanted than I am. You’d basically be putting an ever bigger target on your back. They know how you work, they’re aware of your powers, but they won’t know anything about me.”

Ghoul looked torn, butu it eventually relented. “Fine. I hate when you make good points. You better not get caught, though. I’m not breaking you out.”

“Liar,” Party parroted from earlier.

Instead of looking away like Party had, Ghoul looked them right in the eyes. “Yeah.”

Chapter Text

“Ooh, that one’s pretty, don’t you think?” Ghoul asked through fits of laughter.

Party looked down at the mask it was holding. It was simultaneously the most horrible and ridiculous thing they’d ever seen. It was a princess mask, and while that didn’t sound bad in and of itself, the execution was simply terrible: the princess had rosy skin, a small nose that poked out of the mask, yellow hair, red lips and holes instead of eyes.

“I’m not wearing that,” Party informed Ghoul. The boy was holding back tears, folded in half. The two of them had been browsing the costume section of a thrift shop for an hour, and Ghoul had made it its duty to dig out the worst masks he could possibly find.

They were currently holding a much simpler mask: its left was a dark grey while the right was a lighter one. It wouldn’t draw much attention to them.

Ghoul peeked at it, audibly expressing its disagreement. “This is so boring. What happened to the ugly polka dots?”

Party eyed him, annoyed. “I can’t wear something that might remind someone of my identity, smartass.”

Ghoul got on his tiptoes so he could whisper, “Bo-ring,” in Party’s ear, and they really wished they were wearing a mask—any mask, even that horrible princess mask—to cover up their embarrassing blushing.

The bastard couldn’t convince them otherwise, though: they were sticking with the boring mask. They could always paint or stick something on it.

“Alright, then,” Ghoul sighed. “Let’s pay for it and leave.”

“Pay?” Not that they had a problem with paying, they just hadn’t expected Ghoul to want to pay for it. Besides, wasn’t any purchase easily traceable? It just seemed counterintuitive.

Ghoul seemed to find their confusion hilarious, erupting into laughter. “I’ll be damned. Two days into crime and you’re already stealing things left and right. At this rate, you’ll be a class-five supervillain before I am.”

“Hmm, pretty sure that ship has sailed, babe,” Party said before they could stop themself.

Party counted it as a blessing when Ghoul didn’t comment. Maybe it was because it jokingly gave Party all kinds of pet names himself, their brain unhelpfully provided. Not everyone overthought everything they said: Party was doing all that on their own.

He did, however, comment on the essence of the reply itself. “Huh, I guess breaking out of a Killjoy cell would do that for you. Shit, should we google me later?”

Party stared at it, eyes wide. “Would you maybe keep it down?”

“Relax, no one’s listening.” To prove his point, he yelled: “I HAVE KILLED A MAN TO DEATH WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS!”

Party’s eyes widened as they covered the little shit’s mouth. “Shut up!”

Ghoul playfully swatted their hand away. “Don’t get your panties in such a twist. Look around you: we’re invisible to the world right now.”

They followed its gaze to see everyone in the store minding their business. They didn’t know if they were angry at Ghoul for the stunt he pulled, or relieved it hadn’t drawn anyone’s unwanted attention.

Ghoul leaned in close to add in their ear, “I’ve never killed a man with my own two hands, by the way.”

Party suppressed a shiver. Apart from rolling their eyes—and shivering, but that hadn’t been voluntary—they ignored Ghoul, walking up to the register instead. They wordlessly handed the cashier the mask. Thankfully, she didn’t comment on their purchase. She only asked if they wanted a bag that Party refused: the fifteen cents weren’t worth it.

A few hours later, Party was the proud owner of two new pairs of pants and an also new hoodie. The pants were because Ghoul’s didn’t fit—Ghoul’s oversized shirts fit just fine, and they didn’t mind the tinier ones either, but the pants were a no-go. Besides, even if Ghoul’s shirts were too small, they probably wouldn’t have mentioned it: they’d never admit it, but they actually kind of definitely enjoyed wearing Ghoul’s clothes way too much. They wouldn’t even have needed a hoodie if it weren’t for their suit.

Party would keep on wearing their superhero suit, since they couldn’t exactly afford a new one, and they did not have the skills, nor the materials, to sew one. To this day, they still didn’t understand how Ghoul had gotten its hands on such a good one. They’d have to ask.

Anyway, since the top of their suit was too recognizable, they’d wear a hoodie to cover it. The hood part would also serve as a cover for their hair. Ghoul had suggested dying it, and Party’s ribs still hurt from laughing so hard at that ridiculous proposition.

“I’ll lend you a beanie,” Ghoul had sighed, and Party had internally died at the thought of Ghoul wearing a beanie.

The two of them were currently back on Ghoul’s couch, waiting for the sun to set. Once it would, they’d be on their way to the BL/ind building they’d decided to target. It was a small office in a remote location so as to not send Better Living on high alert. Even Ghoul’s superpowers weren’t fast enough to travel the distance between the two buildings: no one would suspect him to be on site already, away from the explosion. Especially not if Party managed to fool whoever would show up at the explosion site into chasing them instead.

“Where are we even going to find explosives to begin with?” Party wondered aloud. They’d been a superhero long enough to know the hotspots, but they couldn’t help but be curious where Ghoul got its from.

“Right there,” Ghoul answered, gesturing at his storage closet.

Party eyed him, unsure whether they believed him or not. They’d opened that closet before—they’d been looking for the bathroom—and all they’d only seen was the vacuum. Sure, they hadn’t carefully inspected it, but surely Ghoul hadn’t crammed in explosives there?

Wrong.

If Party hadn’t opened the wrong door in the middle of the night, they certainly would’ve noticed the bombs carefully stacked behind the vaccuum. They turned to Ghoul, disbelieving.

“I thought you’d said you lived a normal life! Ghoul, anyone could accidentally find a stack of bombs in your apartment, that’s not normal!”

He scowled. “I meant that about takeout. I don’t know about you, but I don’t really invite my delivery drivers in. They drop off the food, I pay and give a tip, they leave.”

“What about your friends?”

“Do you have friends?” Before they could answer, it rectified: “Not coworkers or friends you know from work. Normal people.”

“No.” They had acquaintances, but their closest friends—Jet and Kobra—were all from work. Well, Kobra was first and foremost their brother, but Party understood what Ghoul meant. They didn’t have meaningful bonds with people outside of their work circle. They’d lost their last normal friend group in the breakup with their ex. “But Ghoulie… you work alone.”

Ghoul smiled, and the sight of it broke Party’s heart. “Bingo.”

They frowned. “Aren’t you lonely? I don’t—I don’t get it.”

“I could have friends; I choose not to. I have friendly relationships, but I don’t feel it’s fair. It’s different for you, because if your identity gets revealed, everyone who knows you would acclaim you for it. You’d be, well, a hero. Withholding my profession… it just feels wrong. It would hurt friends of mine. Talk about bragging rights for them after that, right?”

Its joke fell flat. “Ghoulie….”

He smiled again, and Party really wished he’d stop doing that.

“I’ll be your… friend,” they said, stumbling over the last word.

This time, Ghoul’s expression visibly brightened. “Kind of assumed you already were, but sure.”

Friends. They could do friends. Friends was… safe.

“Alright, stop staring into the void and get a move on, we’ve got a building to explode!”

♡

The sound of the building exploding was deafening. It wasn’t the first time Party had been so close to an explosion, but it definitely was a rare occurrence. That, and the building had been filled to the brink with bombs. It was a good thing no one had been in it, or they would’ve been turned to human purée pretty quickly.

As soon as the first brick touched the ground, they dialed three numbers on the public telephone. For obvious reasons—they hadn’t brought their cellphone with them when they’d been on their last mission as a superhero and it wasn’t like they’d gone back to HQ to retrieve it—they didn’t have access to a phone anymore, so they were back to using a pay phone like a neanderthal.

They actually liked knowing that their cellphone was at HQ, though. That meant it wasn’t lost, and they could possibly get it back at some point in the hopefully not too distant future. If they’d brought it with them to the fire, they would’ve had to dump it so no one could trace it back to them.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” the responder asked.

Mustering their best distressed voice, Party answered. “There’s been an explosion!”

Maybe alerting the authorities so soon was a foolish move, but it was guaranteed to take any heat off of Ghoul. They finished answering the questions the emergency responder had for them before putting the telephone back on its support. Time to hide.

A few minutes later, Party heard the sound of a familiar car roll up. They didn’t care much for cars, but they could recognize that specific roar in a room full of cars: this was one of Killjoy’s.

Their response time was subpar, Party noted to themself. They were gone for what, two days? And now the killjoys were late to crime scenes. There was a lot of traffic, though, so they could give that to them. Some people had no respect for emergency vehicles.

“—was received from a payphone. Who even uses a payphone these days?”

“Oh, fuck,” Party whispered from the shadows. This was Jet. Of course it had to be. Of fucking course. Jet, who knew their fighting style by heart. Jet, who they’d known for years .

“Do you think this is Fun Ghoul’s work?” the other killjoy asked her. Party didn’t know him all that well. They’d been on a few missions together and he seemed alright, but that was the extent of their knowledge.

Jet scoffed. “Definitely. It’s on a streak. First the fire, and now this.”

The killjoy placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find them, Jet.”

She sighed, burying her face in her head. “I know they can take care of themself, but the last time Party’s was off the grid for that long, they almost died. I just—I don’t like this. I don’t like that the last time we heard of them was in a fire.”

The boy’s mouth tightened in a thin line. “No, you can’t think like that. They didn’t find any remains. Party’s okay.”

Party felt nothing close to okay, actually.

Jet sighed, looking at the wreck. “You’re right. Now come on. We won’t salvage anything from this wreck. Let’s catch Fun Ghoul before he runs away and force answers out of him.”

Under his mask, the killjoy’s eyes widened. “Do you think he has something to do with Party’s disappearance?”

Even though they couldn’t see her face, Party knew Jet enough to know she was glowering. “All I know is that I don’t trust it. He caused that fire, and now Party’s missing. It doesn’t bode well.” She kicked a small debris. “Of course he’d go after Party: they’re the only one who have seen its face. Now that Fun Ghoul’s free, he’s got to protect himself. I can’t believe we didn’t think of it before. We never should’ve sent them after him.”

“Jet, you can’t think like this. Party’s a good superhero, and you know as well as I do that they never would’ve let anyone bench them. You’ve said it yourself, come on. Fun Ghoul might still be here, and we’re only losing our window.”

On that note, the two killjoy ran away in search of someone Party knew they wouldn’t find. Ghoul was far, far away on the other side of town. Putting aside their guilt, they stepped out of the shadow, following the killjoys from afar.

Just as they’d expected, Jet almost instantly picked up on it. She whirled around, her eye finding them right on the spot. “Who are you?”

They brought a finger to their mouth in a shush motion—not that Jet could see their mouth, what with the mask. If it had been literally any other killjoy, they wouldn’t have hesitated to speak. They could disguise their voice well enough, built this was Jet. She’d recognize them before they could even finish a sentence.

“Is this Fun Ghoul?” the other killjoy asked, doubtful. “It doesn’t look like Fun Ghoul.”

Jet hummed. “It’s not his mask. And they’re too tall.”

Their curiosity had been piqued. Only one thing left to do: Party started sprinting in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait up!” Jet’s partner yelled, and the two Killjoys started after them.

As they ran, they did their best to focus on what the two were saying.

“Is it a copycat?”

“I don’t know!” Jet replied, frustrated. “Fun Ghoul’s more irritating. This one’s just… mysterious.”

He hesitated. “Do you think they work together?”

“Unlikely. Ghoul works solo”

Party nodded to themself. Good. That was good. The least Killjoy suspected, the safer Ghoul and Party’s alliance was. They loved their friends—they really did—and hiding this from them was hurting all three of them, but Ghoul was their friend now, too. Party didn’t let down friends in need. Jet and Kobra had each other. Ghoul only had them. Ghoul only had them, and the job it was hellbent on seeing through wasn’t one he could do alone.

Which was precisely why when the two killjoys cornered them, they only spared a few seconds to hesitate before throwing the first punch.

Chapter Text

Jet’s partner hit the ground with a groan and Party turned to one of their best friends. In that moment, they really wished was a coward. Maybe that made them a coward themself, but they didn’t want to fight her.

They would win. It wasn’t a matter of her being better than them or not. She wouldn’t expect them to know her every move. She wouldn’t expect them to be Party.

“Go on, hit me,” she encouraged them, raising her fists in provocation.

Alright, they would bite. They swung a fist her way. Just as expected, she dodged on the right, tripping them while they took off. Party let her send them to the ground: if they avoided her first hit, they risked the anonymity the mask provided them.

Her next move was pressing a boot on their lower chest so she could lower herself and hold the upper part of their body up. It was an admirable technique, really. It truly was a shame that Party knew it by heart. If she’d been aware of just who exactly her opponent was, she never would’ve used that approach. Party almost felt bad about being the one to break her winning streak. This method usually never failed. Most definitely because very few were the people who had the chance—or malchance, for the criminals—of being on the receiving end of it twice.

Right before she could hit the side of their head with her right hand, they raised their left hand to catch her fist. They forced themself not to react to the sound of surprise she made when they twisted her arm, effectively getting her off of them.

They saw something move in their peripheral vision, and they spared the half-second it took to look. The second killjoy was already getting up from the pavement, albeit still a bit dazed. To be fair, Party had hit him with a strong kick to the face… and then to the stomach.

“Who the fuck is that?” he asked Jet, rubbing his head.

“No idea,” she spat, “but I don’t like ‘em.”

Party dramatically clutched their chest.

“Yeah, yeah, cry away. Still don’t like you.”

Both Jet and the other killjoy charged at them. They swore under their mask, ducking.

They had to take care of the boy first. He was hurt already, incapacitating him wouldn’t be too hard. Fighting their people was hands down the hardest thing about turning their back on Killjoy. They didn’t deserve the treatment Part was giving them. It hurt, but the less people knew about what they and Ghoul were plotting, the less chances it would fall on a bad ear.

It didn’t need to be anything too painful. A simple sweep of his feet would give Party enough time to stop Jet’s attacks so they could escape.

Party waited for the perfect opening. In the meantime, they balanced out a healthy amount of blocked versus received punches. If they fought to the best of their capacity, their signature fighting style would inevitably surface. They had to miss just the right number of punches to the face, but not too much.

Finally, the killjoy mistepped. He had great footwork: Party only spotted it because they’d actively been waiting for it. A second later, he was on the ground again, moaning in pain.

Jet turned to Party, and they were reminded of just how good a fighter she was. Now that her usual attack had failed, all bets were off. They had no idea what her next move would be. They had to brace themself to the possibility that she might win this round, they thought as they exchanged hits.

“Did you blow up the building down the street?” Jet inquired as she tried to trip them.

Party jumped. As soon as their feet hit the ground, they shrugged. Interrogations weren’t fun without a bit of mystery to work through.

Jet dodged their shove. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

From far away, the district clock struck. Party looked up to check the time, confirming it was midnight. Jet took advantage of their inattention to land a particularly good hit, and they let out a groan.

“Late to something?”

They weren’t, actually. Or at least, not yet. Their meeting with Ghoul wasn’t until midnight thirty, but the clock striking midnight did mean that Ghoul was done and that it was time for them to leave.

Jet was in no way ready to stop fighting. She raised a fist, and Party braced themself for impact. Letting her hit them was the only way to play dirty: the bony inside of her forearm was her weakness, and it would be exposed.

For some reason, she had some kind of bruise on it that never truly healed. This had been going on for years : every time she’d hit that specific spot on something, she’d let out this hiss of pain. Party truly had no idea how she’d gotten it in the first place, nor did they know how she managed to hit it so often, but they knew it would be enough to distract her.

When she swung, they took a step forward, meeting her halfawy. Against their better judgment, they whispered, “Sorry,” before bringing down both their hands on it with all the strength they could muster.

She yelled out, bringing a hand to cover her wound, giving Party the window of time they needed to make their escape.

Party wasn’t all that taller than Jet, but she was shorter on legs than they were, and her partner was too hurt to match their pace. A few turns on the corner later, they’d lost their chasers in the night.

♡

Later that night—or was it morning already?—Party and Ghoul were sprawled on Ghoul’s tiny couch. Together, they’d gone over the mission before crashing on the sofa so they could watch a movie.

Ghoul had managed to dig up some pretty incriminating documents, but they both knew they needed more ammunition to tear BL/ind down to the ground. Or, in Ghoul’s case, Korse, but that was pretty much the same thing. Not that they’d tell Ghoul that again. Maybe it was therapeutic for him to separate the two of them, or something. Party was too tired to think about it clearly.

Anyway, about Tanner. She’d apparently been a Better Living employee for years—not that there were any public records of it. Or rather, there had been, but they'd all been wiped. And pretty thoroughly, too: Killjoy was none the wiser as to her previous employment.

Her officially working for BL/ind in the past wasn’t tangible proof enough that something fishy was going on, though. The fact that Killjoy wouldn’t have hired her if they’d known where she’d used to work didn’t necessarily mean that she was guilty of anything: Killjoy wouldn’t hire anyone who had ties to BL/ind, but then again, plenty of BL/ind employees weren’t important enough to know how deep the company’s corruption ran. Tanner not being supposed to work for Killjoy would raise suspicion, but wouldn’t mean she’d done anything illegal. She’d lose her job, sure, but that would only alert Better Living industries. They’d know someone was onto them.

Basically, Party and Ghoul were sworn to silence until they had more dirt on BL/ind. Still, they had to see the bright side of things: proof that Tanner was a fraud was a huge and necessary step towards their end goal.

“Sorry you had to see your friends out there,” Ghoul said, leaning its head on Party’s shoulder. “I should’ve known better, we could’ve switched places.”

Party would’ve shaken their head, but they didn’t want Ghoul to move. “No, we’ve been over this already. You’re more of a target than I am. They know virtually nothing about this new villain or whatever I’m supposed to be.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts. I knew what I was agreeing to when I started this.”

“Still. Couldn’t have been easy.”

They sighed. “No, it wasn’t.”

Party mindlessly braided strands of Ghoul’s hair as the two of them silently watched the movie playing on Ghoul’s laptop.

“What do you think you’d be doing, if you weren’t a superhero?” Ghoul eventually asked, breaking the silence. Party dropped its hair, thinking. “Hey! Why’d you stop?”

“Huh?”

Ghoul shifted so they couldn’t see its face. “My hair,” he mumbled.

“Oh. Sorry. I hadn’t realized.” Biting back a smile, they resumed their mindless braiding. “I’d probably be a villain,” they answered its previous question, elbowing it.

“You’re not funny. I meant if you’d never gone into that field of work. If heroes and villains weren’t a thing.”

They hummed. “Maybe a teacher? I became a superhero to make a difference. I like to think I could’ve done that with little kids, y’know. Help shape them into better people and all that.”

Ghoul laughed. “Ew, gross. You got all sappy and shit and now my answer’s gonna look stupid.”

“No, come on, I want to know!”

“I dunno, I was thinking, like, an astronaut.” He laughed, self-conscious. “I like mechanics and space seems cool. Could’ve been doing tech in weightlessness and shit.”

“Okay, that's adorable,” Party declared, incapable to fight the grin off of their face. Not that they wanted to fight it off anyway. “I can just imagine you in your little puffy astronaut suit.”

Ghoul blindly patted their face until its palm found their mouth. Party would be annoyed at its way of shutting them up if they weren’t so fucking whipped. “Stop talking, that's enough. But teacher, huh? That’s cool, honestly. You seem like you’d be good at it.”

“Yeah, it’s like, I love kids, you know? But I’d be so scared of fucking up one of mine. Other people’s kids are fine, though, ‘cause someone already fucked them up for you. You just gotta patch ‘em up.”

Ghoul chuckled. “Can’t fuck them up more when they’re at rock bottom already, huh?” Party scowled, and its laughter deepened. “I’m kidding, I get what you mean. And I stand by what I said: you’d be a good influence on the little fucks.”

Party smirked. “Well, for starters, I wouldn’t call them little fucks.”

Ghoul’s hand was back on their mouth. “Shut the fuck up.”

They looked down, only to see it was smiling as well. They took Ghoul’s hand away from their face before turning their eyes back to the screen. If they kept holding its hand, well, Ghoul said nothing of it.

♡

It was only the second time Party woke up in such close proximity to Ghoul, but they could get used to this.

After their movie had ended, they’d started another one, but they’d both fell asleep through it. Or well, Party guessed they had: they'd been the first to fall asleep, but Ghoul’s eyes had been heavy for a while before they did.

Next to them, Ghoul squirmed, propping itself on one elbow so it could scroll on its phone. 

“Mind if I peek?”

“Go ahead,” Ghoul replied, angling the phone so Party could get a better look at the screen.

New Supervillain in Town?

Here’s what our city superheroes have to say about it

Ghoul scrolled down, revealing a grainy picture of Party in their disguise. “Ugh. Already?” they groaned. “Who even took that picture? There wasn’t anyone around!”

“There,” he answered, pointing at the picture description. A car camera. Of course. People were desperate for a chance to get money off of crime.

Sighing, they pushed themself off the couch. “I need a walk.”

“Want me to come with?” Ghoul asked, but he couldn’t even get through the end of his senece without a massive yawn.

Party smiled fondly. “Nah, it’s alright. See you in a bit.”

“Don’t forget your beanie!” Ghoul called after them.

They grabbed the hat, tucking their red hair under it before stepping out the door. The cold December air was a welcome distraction from their thoughts. They hadn’t expected pictures of them to leak so fast. They supposed it was to be expected, but they’d thought they could use the surprise element a bit longer.

As they walked, they came across a supermarket, and their stomach grumbled. They decided to go in: they could grab Ghoul something while they were at it.

It wasn’t until they’d browsed for a couple minutes that they remembered they didn’t have any money on them. Their wallet was either back at HQ or their appartement, they weren’t sure, and they didn’t have a phone or any cash.

Oh, well. It wasn’t like they’d had anything in mind by coming in the store. They began walking to the exit when they caught sight of the chocolate bars on display in the aisle. Chocolate bars that fit in their hoodie’s sleeves.

Making sure no one was close enough to see, they slipped the bars in their sleeves. They then made their way to the exit, praying they didn’t look as anxious as their beating heart felt.

It was silly, when they thought of it rationally: they’d broken a class-five criminal out of prison, they'd turned their back on Killjoy, they’d taken part of an illegal mission and had fought against superheroes and yet this felt like the biggest offense out of everything they’d done.

Maybe the mundanity of it was what got to them. They’d bought groceries so many times before. On the grand scheme of things, the store wouldn’t miss the two bars of chocolate, but breaking the unspoken routine of getting groceries felt criminal on a different level.

Now, Party wasn’t stupid. They knew countless people shoplifted everyday. Hell, they were almost convinced their own brother did it on a weekly basis. It was his way of rebelling against the system in the limited way he could, given his job. And while Party didn’t partake in that kind of activity, well, they didn't really care if he did.

Except that now they had partaken in that kind of activity. Once they were out in the street, they groaned. This situation—not only the shoplifting, the whole being some kind of supervillain thing as well—was so confusing. It went against everything they’d sworn to do, but they couldn’t find it in themself to feel remorse.

Maybe because they believed the supervillain thing was for the greater good, the rational part of their brain commented. The part that wasn’t freaking out over chocolate bars. Party shook their head: this overthinking was getting ridiculous.

It didn’t matter at the end of the day—Party could shoplift all they wanted. No one would care that Party had stolen from a chain supermarket if they ever got wind of everything else they’d done.

Chapter Text

“We need un plan de match ,” Ghoul declared, munching on Party’s stolen chocolate bar.

“You speak French?”

Ghoul rolled its eyes. “That’s hardly French, Party.”

They couldn’t help but notice that it had dodged the question, but decided they had more important matters to attend to. Such as: the aforementioned plan de match . “Alright,” they relented. “What do you have in mind?”

It shrugged. “I’d suggest burning BL/ind to the ground, but that’s more up my alley than it is ours.”

Ours . Moving past that—they had to, or else they’d never be of use ever again—they tried to go for a more logical plan of action. “What if instead of burning BL/ind to the ground, we gathered some more evidence?”

Ghoul groaned. “Where’s the fun in that? Evidence is so boring. Flaming shit up is way better.”

“ I know breaking and entering isn’t as appealing as arson, but hey! At least it’s still a crime, right?”

“That’s not much consolation,” he said with a pout. “‘Congrats! You’re a criminal, but get that: a boring one!’”

“Stop whining.”

It did not, in fact, stop whining, but Party tuned it out. They needed to concentrate. The last time they’d broken into a BL/ind facility, it had gone quite terribly. Not only that, but Better Living would know better than to let classified and/or incriminating files lay around in unsupervised desks. As much as they despised Korse, they had to give him that: the man was scarily smart.

“We could take hostages,” they suggested, and Ghoul stared at them, appalled.

“No! Absolutely not! How is this better than arson?”

“Calm down, I’m just spitballing here! We grab some scarecrow and we say some shit like ‘if you want this man back, confess to your crimes’.”

“Sweetie, that’s a terrible idea. First off, BL/ind doesn’t give two shits about their scarecrows or they wouldn’t be rotting in Killjoy cells. They’re fancy collateral so the whole industry doesn’t collapse. Glorified sacrificial lambs, if you will. Following that train of thought, BL/ind won’t agree to shit .”

“Hmpf.”

“Listen, I know being evil is sexy and all, but you’ve gotta have the brains for it, too, y’know. Or if you’re the brawns, you’ve gotta have the brains behind helping you. Can’t be stupid and plan.”

“Oh, and you’re evil and sexy, huh?” they asked, teasing, before their brain caught up to what their mouth had said. “Wait. No, evil and smart. I meant evil and smart. Wait . That doesn’t even fucking work either. Smart and strong. Yeah! Smart and strong.”

Ghoul brought a hand up to their mouth to cover their laughter. “Great, so we know you’re not the smart one.”

“Fuck off, at least I’m trying.”

“Aww. Gold star to you! Now, onto evil and sexy plans.”

“Shut the fuck up. But yes, back to that. We need more equipment. You’ve rejected all my brilliant ideas, so the only option is gathering evidence. I don’t have access to Killjoy shit anymore, so we need stuff.”

“You only suggested hostages! This is a manipulation technique! You can’t dupe me, Party Poison, I learned about them in 11th grade! It’s the thing where you ask for something crazy so the other person agrees to the smaller favor!”

They smirked. “See? Maybe I am the evil and sexy brawns after all. But no,” they added as an afterthought.

“Fine, say we go with the boring plan. We’ll need weapons. I do not want another gunshot wound.”

“That sounds like an armor problem more than a weapon one,” they mumbled.

Ghoul glared at them. “Well it’s not like I can pull up in chain mail. At least with weapons we’ll be able to put up a fight. They can’t take us out if we’ve taken them out first.” Party was about to agree but he had to add, “I mean, it’s mostly for you, really. You can’t go charging at everyone with your fists.”

“I’ll let you know I am more than capable of shooting a gun. I just don’t need it, because my hands are perfectly fine for most situations.”

Killjoy preferred the pacifist approach—as did Party. If there was a way for them to resolve a conflict without turning to weaponry, then not turn to weaponry they would. It worked, most of the time: Party did throw a mean punch.

Some killjoys swore by their weapon—Party knew a girl who worked a net like you wouldn’t believe—but those usually weren’t deadly weapons. They were skills killjoys had mastered and put to combative use.

If they really wanted to storm BL/ind, though, they needed to give the company a taste of its own medicine. The fuckers wouldn’t refrain from using lethal force, so maybe it only made sense that they returned the favor. Not necessarily lethal force, but maybe something a bit stronger than a kick to face.

It was only then that it hit them: papers would never be enough. As the last debacle with BL/ind had proven, papers could easily be forged, and that fact would surely be used as a way to prove anything they might dig up as impossible. Even if it was the truth. No, what they needed was higher scale evidence.

They needed proof: intangible proof. Confession-style proof. Confessions backed up by paperwork. Now, they could find any Drac or Crow on the street, but what would they gain from snitching? They had so much to lose. No, they needed to go after those who’d already lost everything.

We need to storm Killjoy as well , Party realized.

They hadn’t realized they’d made their realization out loud until Ghoul said, “If this is another one of your extremes, I’m not falling for it.”

Party violently shook their head. “No, I'm dead serious. You’re the one who said it!”

Ghoul pulled a face. “... Did I ?”

“Hear me out. You said BL/ind doesn’t care about Dracs and Crows. And you’re right! Aaand there is a shitton of them in Killjoy capacity who could second that. Some of them have been locked up for years . Surely they’ve come to realize Better Living is full of shit. We dig up BL/ind records of them—if they’ve not been erased, that is—and we find Killjoy’s as well.”

“Fuck me, you really are the evil sexy brains,” Ghoul swore. “That’s brilliant! If we get Killjoy’s recollection of the arrest—definitely something illegal—Better Living’s records of employment and testimonies from the criminals, there’s no way that won’t fly!”

There were a lot of kinks to work out, though. For starters, they couldn’t just go around poking both institutions. Not only that, but getting confessions from prisoners in a high-level security building wouldn’t be a piece of cake, either.

“I’m going for a walk,” Party announced. They needed to move , to do something, anything .

Party couldn’t see it, but they knew Ghoul was smirking when he said, “Bring money this time!”

The way their cheeks flushed really was silly, they thought as they left the apartment. They’d just suggested all sorts of felonies, and yet there they were, embarrassed to have been caught stealing from a chain store.

Their current plan had three phases: BL/ind files, Killjoy files, and confessions. Which seemed simple enough… in theory. In reality, Party had no idea how the fresh fuck they were supposed to achieve that.

They couldn’t start with Better Living. Those fucks didn’t know how to keep their mouth shut. They’d immediately blame Killjoy for the attack, and since Killjoy wouldn’t have any involvement, they would grow suspicious, making any breaking and entering in their building damn near impossible.

No, they had to be smart about this, and being smart about this meant starting with Killjoy. If their mission was successful, Killjoy would never willingly let the news of such a breach get out. They’d worked in the industry long enough to know how these things went. If Killjoy showed any form of weakness, they became prey to any and all villains. Their main weapon was that people feared them. If they lost that, they were only regular people. Very skilled regular people, but skills alone had never stopped crime.

With Ghoul’s escape and the appearance of a new villain—Party—Killjoy had lost face. If Party and Ghoul kept quiet about the mission, no one would ever know until BL/ind was abolished. And then, they could pretend it was a brilliant plan of theirs all along, if they liked. Party didn’t care past ridding the world of Better Living industries.

So, Killjoy first, which probably meant confessions later. That was the part they hadn’t quite worked out yet. They had no idea how they were supposed to get them to confess, and much less get them alone, without Killjoy knowing. Besides, some criminals from Killjoy’s files had been released since.

Oh .

Oh, Party really wasn’t the evil sexy brain after all. They didn’t need testimonies from prisoners—or they did, but they weren’t their only option—they only needed testimonies from people who had been convicted by Killjoy. Ex-cons would do just fine. 

Not all of them would be willing, of course. Being out in the real world didn’t offer them the protection being locked up did. Snitching on BL/ind became more dangerous to their safety than in a Killjoy detention center, but surely some of them would recognize they’d been fucked over by BL/ind  and would thus be more than willing to rip them a new one.

Some had gone back to BL/ind, too, but maybe they wouldn’t be as useless as Party had originally thought. Proof that they’d worked for Better Living before and then after they’d been arrested would definitely raise some red flags.

Of course, they needed BL/ind records for that. Hence the third part of their plan. If they managed to pull every part of their plan, they had themself a foolproof plan. Now all they had to do was head back and run it past the other half of their party.

The only comment the aforementioned other half of the party had to say was, “As long as you’re the one to sneak us in Killjoy ground.”

Party agreeingly hummed. Ghoul wasn’t discreet enough to navigate any Killjoy facility on its own. They had half a mind to go alone. If it wasn’t for the fact that their plan required two people, they might’ve considered not telling Ghoul.

“No worries,” they told it, poorly holding back a grin. “We’ll only need three tacos.”

♡

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Ghoul asked for what had to be the thirtieth time. “I mean, those tacos aren’t even hot anymore.” To prove his point, he brought its taco-holding hands to their face, giving the food a good shake.

Party sighed for what had to be the twentieth time. The first ten times, they hadn’t sighed, understanding Ghoul’s uncertainty, but the other twenty times were entirely too much. “For the last time, yes. Joe loves his tacos cold anyway and Maria will give hers to him two bites in. Trust me.”

Joe and Maria were Killjoy’s delivery drivers. Getting their van meant getting into HQ. Killjoy admittedly had many delivery drivers, but the couple were the main ones. Party also happened to know the route they took by heart.

“I don’t trust Joe,” Ghoul mumbled. “Who even eats cold tacos anyway? Those are the blandest tacos I’ve ever had the displeasure to see, too.”

To be fair, they were pretty bland, but hey, if that was what it took to be granted access into Killjoy HQ, then buy bland tacos Party would. It was admittedly Ghoul’s money, but Party had promised him they’d pay him back. Ghoul had tried to refuse, but they’d insisted. No one deserved to have to see such a disgusting taco order on their taco stand receipt. The least Party could do was give it the money back as consolation.

“Alright, hush now. It’s almost six, they’ll be here soon.”

Ghoul hung his head, groaning. “You said that ten minutes ago. Can’t we just storm in?”

Party glared at it. “If you want to wind up in a Killjoy cell again, be my guest.”

Muttering a half-hearted apology, Ghoul leaned down to eat a piece of lettuce peeking from one of the tacos it was holding.

Party’s eyes grew wide and they took the taco from him. “Really? Gross! Keep your mouth away from Joe and Maria’s tacos! Or at least use your hands, Jesus.”

Ghoul spat out the lettuce. “Even their fucking salad tastes bland.”

They were about to reply when they heard the sound of a van pulling up. “Shut up, here they come!”

Quickly, Party threw the taco they were holding. It came crashing down on the van’s windshield, Ghoul making a noise of despair as the taco’s contents spread out on the window.

“Why the fuck did we get tacos if you were going to throw them all along?” he cried out as silently as he could.

Party winked. “Well, we’ve still got enough for the two of them, don’t we?”

“ Bastard .”

Returning their attention to the van, they screamed, “Hey Joe!”

The van screeched to a halt.

“Darlingpie, do you really think it’s smart to stop here? You know how unsafe things have been lately,” Maria exclaimed as her husband got out of the car.

“Now,” Party whispered, and Ghoul slid his mask back on before leaping towards the passenger side door. It might’ve been locked, but it was nothing its superpowered muscles couldn’t pry open. Which it did.

It pried Maria out of her seat as Joe protested. Not that he could do much to help her: Party had already run up to him. Joe only had time to extend his arm and yell, “Maria!” before he crumpled to the ground, the hit Party had administered him having brought him unconscious.

“Why are you doing this?” Maria protested between two sobs.

“Nothing personal,” Ghoul assured her as he bound her hands together. “We only want your van.”

She only sobbed harder.

Party rolled their eyes. It wasn’t like she’d been injured. Sure, her husband was passed out on the street, but he’d be fine in five minutes.

“We brought you bland tacos,” they told her. One would have thought that she’d appreciate the gesture, but her response was a small whimper.

“Hey, hey, no!” Ghoul was fast to exclaim, his eyebrows scrunching in concern. “I promise they’re not poisoned or anything! Look!” it said, eating some more lettuce off of one of the tacos. Lettuce that he’d expressed his distaste for earlier. To its credit, it didn’t wince or let its uncomfort show.

Hands shaking, she accepted the food, tears uncontrollably falling from her eyes.

“Joe’s gonna be okay,” Ghoul assured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m really sorry about this. I promise we only want your car.”

“Ghoul!” Party called out, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Time to go!”

Shooting back one last look at Maria and Joe, Ghoul dragged its feet to the passenger seat.

“Do you think they’ll be okay? I kind of feel bad now,” he whispered.

“What, Joe and Maria? They’ll be fine. Joe won’t even be concussed.”

Ghoul sighed, and both it and Party put on their disguise. If they wanted to enter Killjoy as delivery drivers, they needed to look the part. A quick makeup, a new jacket and a wig later, Party pressed the accelerator, leaving behind a crying Maria with a dazed Joe and two bland tacos.

Chapter Text

Breaking into Killjoy was worryingly easy. Party decided to blame it on the fact that they knew the insides and outs of the place and how it worked. Otherwise, thinking about how simple it had been would only make them worry over less well-meaning people doing the same.

Thankfully, the killjoys waiting for them were relatively new, so they didn’t notice that the person driving the van was one of their own. Or had used to be one of theirs? Party wasn’t sure which one was most accurate.

The killjoys being new didn’t come as a surprise, though: every rookie superhero had to go through bleak and boring tasks like van inspections. They’d expressed some concerns when they hadn’t seen Maria and Joe, but Party had spewed smart-sounding words at them, explaining that the couple hadn’t been available that night. It had also helped that Party had namedropped a bunch of important people, too.

“That was kind of hot,” Ghoul giggled as they drove away. Party was glad he’d cheered up: it had seemed down after their… altercation with Joe and Maria.

They were also glad he’d found Party’s impression of a legitimate van driver hot, but that was their business and their business only.

It was almost insulting to their hours of careful planning how easy navigating HQ was after they’d parked the van. They’d brought a box with them so they could explain they’d gotten lost on their way to the delivery room if any suspicion arose—far-fetched, but it could work if they played the new driver angle—but they didn’t even get stopped once. As a matter of fact, they barely saw any killjoys, and they managed to hide from the handful their path crossed.

The two ended up lugging a useless box all the way to the file room. Party couldn’t help but notice the way Ghoul had tensed up when they’d walked past the detention center. They’d closed their eyes, trying to suppress the guilt they felt.

Realistically, they knew the way it had gone down—Party telling Ghoul to make requests—was better than the other options—Ghoul getting arrested by someone who wouldn’t insist on it having conditions, or Ghoul being sedated and waking up chained to a hospital bed, etc—but whether they liked it or not (they didn’t), they’d still been the one to arrest Ghoul. They knew Ghoul would find them ridiculous if they shared those feelings, though, so they kept their mouth shut. Ghoul didn’t resent them for it, so they shouldn’t resent themself either.

“Pois, come look!” the boy in question called over. Party read the file it was holding over its shoulder.

Barnes, Dean - Released early for exemplary behavior.

“Shit, this is good! That means he’s learned from his mistakes, right?” they asked.

“I sure hope so! I don’t see how Killjoy would’ve deemed him fit for release if he wasn’t reformed. Then again, you’re the expert.”

“Ah, not on this,” Party admitted. “I was more in the lock bad guys up department, you see?”

Ghoul rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, so Party didn’t take it personally. They got back to their own files, seeking out potential people to ask about BL/ind. They had to carefully filter out those they suspected might reveal their plan to Better Living. If the corporation got wind of their little plan to run them into the ground, they might ‘accidentally’ lose the very proofs of employment and similar files Party and Ghoul sought.

After about an hour—it truly was shocking just how many BL/ind ex-convicts roamed the streets of Battery City—the two of them felt as though they had enough sources. Ghoul quickly snapped pictures of their folders, and then they started meticulously putting them back in place. Killjoy had a very specific system, and Party didn’t want a new recruit getting punished because the two of them had put some papers back like shit. That, and they didn’t want Killjoy to check the footage. It was inevitable, but they figured the more time they had, the better.

“Ready to go back?”

Ghoul nodded, and they picked the box up again. Just as they were thinking about how lucky they were that they hadn’t had any run-ins with killjoys, an all-too-familiar voice made them freeze.

“What are you doing?” Ghoul mouthed, eyes wide.

On a whim, Party stepped into the first supply closet they found, dragging the box—and thus Ghoul with them into it.

“And then I’ll stay in for a bit, work on the system. There’s been some glitches I’ve been meaning to fix.”

Party bit their lips, trying to hold back a sob or a swear or any kind of reaction. That was their brother. Their brother, whom they hadn’t seen in days. They couldn’t recall a time they’d spent so long apart, except maybe for that field trip they went to in third grade. Kobra, being younger and thus not in the same grade, obviously hadn’t attended. Huh, so they guessed the last time they’d spent so much time apart was in fifth grade, when Kobra was on his own third grade field trip.

Sure, there had been a few other instances where they hadn’t seen each other for a few days, but never like this. They’d had their cellphone, so they would text and call and Kobra would pretend he wasn’t stalking them with the use of their shared location.

Ghoul shot them a worried look: there wasn’t much place in the small closet to hide their emotions. They raised a hesitant thumb up, but it was pretty much ruined when Jet answered Kobra.

“You should get some sleep. You’ve barely gotten any rest this week.”

Party shook their head. Kobra was avoiding sleep. He never slept when he was stressed: he saw it as a waste of time. He didn’t actually need to fix glitches: the system was obviously perfect. Their brother was just avoiding idleness.

“I can’t go back,” he whispered.

Biting their lips wasn’t enough: under Ghoul’s concerned gaze, they had to bring their hand to their mouth.

“They’d want you to,” Jet said softly.

“I tried,” Kobra admitted. “I tried, but the apartment isn’t the same without them. I just—I miss them, Jet. I miss my sibling, fuck .”

“Oh, come here.” They heard shuffling and the light coming from under the door shifted as Jet hugged their baby brother. 

They hadn’t realized they’d zoned out until they felt a hand on their upper arm.

“They’re gone,” Ghoul whispered softly, staring at them worriedly.  Surely enough, Party couldn’t hear Jet and Kobra’s voices anymore.

Party’s hand moved towards the doorknob, but Ghoul placed his own hand over theirs, effectively stopping them.

“Are you okay?”

Quite frankly, they weren’t, but it would be better the sooner they were out of HQ. Smiling, they truthfully answered, “No.” Judging by Ghoul’s bittersweet smile, it understood all too well.

♡

Tracking down Dean Barnes took about a week. Apparently, he’d moved since his probation had ended. Party and Ghoul had looked for him relentlessly, only to find out he’d changed his name and lived in a whole other state.

The two of them were sat around Ghoul’s table when he started speaking. “Hey, at least I guess that means he’s really given up on BL/ind, huh?”

Party laughed, but all they were thinking about was the money they’d have to spend on bus tickets.

“I can’t believe we only have four options. Out of everyone that left Killjoy jail, you wouldn’t think only four didn’t come running back to BL/ind,” they eventually said.

“I know. On the bright side of things, it’ll save us some time, yeah? Besides, the less people who know about our plan, the better. And you know it’s more than four. Those four are only our safe options, but everyone else didn’t necessarily go back to Better Living.”

“Ugh. Since when are you an optimist?”

It shrugged. “I’m not, but one of us’ gotta keep up morale.”

With that, Ghoul went back to munching on his dry Froot Loops.

“We should split up again,” he suggested in between bites.

Party raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s wise? You do realize our targets are Dracs and Crows, right?”

Ghoul took a spoonful of cereal before answering. Party would be disgusted if it wasn’t so endearing. “They can’t be that good if they got arrested.” A bit of cereal fell out of its mouth as it spoke. Maybe it was a bit disgusting after all.

He did have a point, but… “You never know. Maybe they got really ripped in prison. Not much else to do, you know.”

“Stop looking for excuses. You can handle it, and I know I can. And you know I can, too, before you start getting any ideas.”

They crossed their arms. “I wasn’t gonna argue! You’ve hit me square in the face enough times for me to know for sure you can hold your own in a fight. It just seems risky for nothing, is all.”

Ghoul found their hands from where they were nested in their arms and held them. “That’s why we filtered them all out. Off to Arizona you go.”

“Wait, when did we agree I was the one going after Dean?” they protested, removing their hands from theirs, an action they quickly came to regret when they realized it meant they weren’t holding hands anymore.

“What, you’ve got some kind of vendetta against Arizona or something?”

“No!”

Ghoul chuckled. “Fine, I’ll go. Keep your Arizona secrets.”

They’d spoken the truth when they’d said there weren't any Arizona secrets, but they had a feeling Ghoul wouldn’t believe them if they insisted. Too much denying was worse than not enough. It wasn't like they could just tell the truth. ‘I wouldn’t mind Arizona if you were there with me’? Lame .

“I’ve been thinking,” Ghoul started after a few minutes of tapping away on his keyboard while he finished up his bowl of cereal. “You never told me why you broke me out.”

“Why are you bringing this up now? And that’s not true, by the way. I told you it was because they weren’t respecting your surrender conditions.”

“Hey, just tying up my unfinished business in case I die in Arizona. And that’s not a full answer, princess. You dodged the question, remember? And then I told you about my mom, so you owed me. Owe me, actually.”

Wow. They’d forgotten about that. Not Ghoul’s sad mom story, but the reason why he’d said it to begin with. Party had thought it had forgotten about it as well, but recent developments proved that obviously not.

“Ha-ha. You won’t die in Arizona.” Ghoul looked at them expectantly, waiting for them to tackle the rest of what he'd said. Fuck, there really was no way out of this. “It just seemed wrong. You said they wouldn’t show your face and they kept prying, so I made sure they couldn’t keep prying anymore.”

Ghoul leaned over the table so he could stare at Party straight in the eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Party wanted nothing but to back away, but their body seemed to greatly enjoy not listening to them, so they leaned closer to Ghoul as well. “Well that’s your problem, pretty boy, cause it’s the truth.”

Party hadn’t thought it possible, but Ghoul somehow got closer to them. When he spoke again, they could feel its warm breath on their face. “I’m not saying you’re lying, I’m saying you’re holding back. There’s more to it.” It closed the distance between them, their lips brushing when he added, “You just don’t want me to know.”

He began to pull away, but Party grabbed its head and dragged it back, kissing him properly.

It took Ghoul a few seconds to return the kiss. For someone who talked such a big game, it took him quite some time to catch on. Maybe he hadn’t expected Party to act. Party knew they hadn’t expected themself to.

When they broke apart, the sweet taste of cereals still lingered on their lips. Party couldn’t resist adding, “How’s that for an answer?”, to which Ghoul reacted by walking over to their side of the table to angrily shut them up without something in the way this time. Party couldn’t find it in themself to regret sassing him if it got them Ghoul’s mouth on theirs.

Chapter Text

“Be back soon,” Ghoul told them a few days later, quickly pressing its lips to theirs.

“Hmm, I changed my mind, actually,” Party told him, trying to pry it back in the apartment. “I think you should stay.”

Ghoul only laughed, pushing them away. How cruel. “I’m gonna miss my bus, you leech! You won’t even realize I'm gone.”

“Doubt that,” they muttered, but they let Ghoul go nonetheless.

Not much had changed since their first kiss. They still bickered endlessly as they planned BL/ind and Korse’s downfall: the main difference was that they swapped spit as they did so, now.

If they’d known that that would be the outcome of kissing Ghoul, they would’ve done it sooner. Except that kind of was a lie since the only reason they’d kissed Ghoul in the first place was because he'd been right there . Party could’ve sneezed and it would’ve been enough to close the gap between their mouths.

Anyway. They had no regrets.

They knew they’d have to talk about it eventually, but, for now, they were just enjoying the ride. The two of them were having fun and it was a welcome distraction from the three last existential crises they’d had in the past month or so. They weren’t eager to open their mouth and ruin everything. The only mouth opening they would be doing would be to shove their tongue down Ghoul’s throat, so there.

Ugh. That was so lame. They’d thought they would get less disaster-y in all things Ghoul, but kissing him had made it worse, if anything. At least now they had an outlet: they could just barge into their shared room and kiss it silly.

And now Ghoul was gone, and Party didn’t know what to do with themself. Not in an emotionally dependant way—Party might’ve been clingy, but not that much—but rather in a I’m so fucking bored way. Things were just that less entertaining without him around.

The only thing left to do was to get their head in the game. They’d interrogate the shit out of those BL/ind ex-cons.

The first on their list was Jenna Aguilero. She’d been arrested ten years ago and had only been free for four. Her probation had ended eight months ago, which meant that, in theory, they should get to her without Killjoy growing suspicious.

Even though her probation time was technically over, Killjoy periodically checked up on all past felons. Not that she was necessarily aware of it. Every month or so, a killjoy would follow her around for some hours. The killjoys charged to keep tabs on the ex-prisoners were called the rehabilitation team. 

Said team had checked up on Jenna a little less than a month ago, so she was in the clear. As was Party—the last thing they wanted was to get recognized by a killjoy while they were out on their sort-of undercover mission.

Ghoul had been gone for about thirty minutes now, and Party was almost done getting ready. They usually didn’t go through the trouble of putting up much makeup—it tended to wash away due to their superhero duties—but they needed to walk around the city undetected, so they’d taken advantage of the situation to go all out. They usually stuck to the waterproof essential, but they thankfully weren’t supposed to run or anything that day.

They applied the last brush of blush, satisfied with the results. They could barely see the scars on their face. Not that they minded them, but they didn’t leave room for much anonymity. It was fine when they were merely out in the streets, but chances were that a killjoy would recognize them.

The finishing touch was hiding their hair under their beanie. Ghoul’s beanie, to be more exact, but they’d kind of claimed it as their own. Like a boyfriend hoodie, except that it was a hat and that it served a purpose.

That reminded them that they’d have to give Ghoul one of their hoodies, once this was all over. It would be adorable; he’d drown in it.

The commute to Jenna Aguilero’s house wasn’t too bad, if they overlooked the forty-five minute walk they had to go through from the nearest bus stop. They weren’t sure how she, an ex-prisoner, had managed to muster enough money to live in a house of all places.

Their question was answered when the door swung open, revealing a burly man. Ah, so maybe not her house.

“Is Aguilero here?” they asked.

The man crossed his arms. “This is Aguilero. Marco Aguilero. Who’s asking?”

“Oh!” they exclaimed. They didn’t know Jenna was married. Party hoped he knew about her past, or this might turn out to be awkward. “I’m actually looking for Jenna. I know her from work. Are you her—”

Before they could even finish their sentence, the door had been slammed in their face.

Scoffing, they took a step back. Who even was this dude? Irritated, they banged on the door. “Come on, man! Open up! I can see you glaring at me through the window.”

Finally, Marco opened the door a few inches. “Listen, I don’t care who sent you, but you tell them my sister—” oh, so not his wife, “—was a good person who’d learned from her past mistakes. She wasn’t going to snitch.”

Party faltered. “I’m sorry, was ?”

The man narrowed his eyes at them. He would’ve closed the door again if Party hadn’t stuck out their hand. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know what line of work she was in. If you really are an acquaintance of her from it, you have no business disrespecting her by coming here.”

Hesitantly, they pried the door open a couple more inches. Marco allowed it. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is Jenna here?”

“She’s dead, kid,” Marco spat, and Party felt as though they’d been punched.

“That—that’s not possible,” they breathed, which they realized wasn’t the best thing to say out loud a bit too late. Marco’s expression turned darker than it had already been. “I mean, I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I thought—”

“She was murdered. Just last week.” As Marco spoke, Party could see him crumbling. “She was done. She was done with the gang, and they couldn’t even let her go. Official reports say she was mugged. Mugged .”

Party gulped: Crows didn’t die in a street mugging. As much as they despised the fuckers, even Party could admit they were good fighters. Never better than them, naturally, but way above your average criminal. Jenna wouldn’t have died unless she’d been taken out by surprise, by someone equally trained to fight. This had Better Living written all over it.

“I believe you,” Party said, keeping their voice down. They didn’t know why: it just felt right. Marco didn’t need loud and boisterous—he needed reassurance. Party knew they would, if they were in his place. God, they couldn’t even imagine. Kobra….

“You—what?”

“Better Living industries. Your sister. I can’t tell you much, but I have it on good authority that she was in a Killjoy detention center, serving out a sentence for gang activity.”

Marco gaped at them in disbelief. “Just how much do you know? This is classified information.”

Party raised an eyebrow. This was slightly bordering on too much to reveal, but they needed Marco to trust them. “I know that Scarecrows live to tell the tale when they get mugged.”

The man sucked in a breath, stepping aside to let Party in his house.

A few minutes later, Party and Marco were sitting at the latter’s table, and Party had a glass of lemonade they hadn’t asked for in their hands. More precisely, they’d declined Marco’s offer, but the man had poured them one anyway and Party hadn’t had the heart to tell him they’d said no. He was distraught enough already.

“The second her probation was over, she started being jumpy. At first I didn’t notice it, but it got so bad she moved to my house. I didn’t mind it—I love my sister. She just—” His voice broke. “She just got in over her head. Ever since she was a kid.”

Party frowned. “You don’t have to keep going.”

Marco chuckled wetly. “I might go crazy if I don’t. No one else believes me.” He wiped his teary eyes before speaking again. “She only started getting followed two months ago. Out in the streets, even here. There was this black sedan that would drive past the house every thirty minutes. I suggested she quit her job, but she refused. She didn’t want BL/ind to rob her of her life, she said. Si tan solo pudiera oírse a sí misma ahora. ”

They looked down, unsure what to say. Party couldn’t offer him the words he needed to hear.

“Well they found her in the back of some alley a few days ago. So much for living her life. I'm no fool, kid. I know they killed her.”

“Would you be willing to testify?” they blurted out. 

“Testify? You don’t think I already did? They told me I was being paranoid. ‘Accidents happen to everyone, even ex-cons’. That's what the pigs told me.”

Party winced. “I’m building a case of sorts. Against BL/ind. That’s why I wanted to talk to Jenna. To get a testimony, proof that BL/ind was head deep into the gang scene.”

He blinked. “Of course I will! Anything to avenge her.”

“Marco…,” Party started. “You’re no stranger to what happened to your sister. You don’t have to do this. It is dangerous, and people won’t be happy. And that's if we win.”

“She would do it. And I know—I know she’s gone, but…. Listen, I know she’s made mistakes. But surely there’s a reason you went to her and not some other ex-con, right? You understand.”

They nodded. “I do. I really do. But Marco, you have to promise me this: if you get doubts, if your heart wavers, then don’t risk it all. I don’t think you dying for her sake is what your sister would’ve wanted.”

“You’re the one who asked,” Marco reminded them.

Party moved to scratch their head, only to remember they were wearing a beanie. “I guess I don’t have the best track record with keeping my mouth shut. Speaking of: no one can know we met. If anyone asks, you never saw me.”

“I don’t even know who you are.”

“See? You’ve got your lines down already.”

♡

One down, two to go.

Oh God, that probably wasn’t the best way to phrase it, Party thought as they walked towards an ex-Drac’s apartment. No, actually, that was definitely the worst way to phrase it.

The doorbell was broken, so they knocked on the door.

For the longest time, there was no sign of life beyond the door. They were already halfway down the stairs leading to the street when they heard the sound of a door creaking open.

“Burke?” they asked, running up the stairs.

Burke grunted, and Party figured it would have to be enough to identify him.

“May I ask you some questions? It’s about May 18th.”

Burke obviously recoiled, and Party almost got a door slammed in their face for the second time that day.

“Hey now, wait up! You’re not in trouble. I’m not with—” they looked around, making sure no one was around to overhear. “—BL/ind.”

“Don’t say that so loud!” Burke reprimanded, dragging them past the threshold of their apartment so they could slam the door shut with Party inside. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you could be putting me in?”

“A little?” 

Burke looked like he had half a mind to throw Party out.

“Alright, alright, listen. I just need you to confirm a few things. Like, say, your involvement with BL/ind. And gangs.”

Sighing heavily, Burke shook his head. “Listen, I’d love to help you, but I just left prison. I wanna mind my own shit. I’m not looking to stir up trouble.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No. Whatever it is you want me to do, I won’t do it. I’m sorry. I’d love to help, I really would, but I can’t.”

“I understand.” They smiled, disappointed. “I’ll show myself out.”

♡

This wasn’t going the way Party wanted it to. One of their four candidates was dead, the other refused to talk—which Party understood, really. Sure, it sucked that he wouldn’t make amends, but he did have a point: he would be putting himself in danger if he did—and the third one, well….

“Miss Grenier?”

The woman who answered the door didn’t look anything like the picture of the Grenier Party was looking for. For starters, she was about thirty years too old.

“Call me Solange, honey.”

Oh. That explained it. “Is Lise here?”

The woman—Solange, apparently—smiled warmly. “She’s on vacation with her friends! Lord knows she needed one, with those probation officers breathing down her neck.”

Party sighed. The whole world was literally against them, this was so unfair. No greater act of transphobia had ever been placed upon them.

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

Solange’s toothy grin was missing a few teeth. “She left just yesterday! Who is it? I’ll tell her you came by!”

“That won’t be necessary, Solange. Thank you for your time, though.”

Her smile didn’t dimmer down, although she looked a bit confused. “Alright, then. Have a good one, then, will you?”

“Thanks, ma’am. You too.”

Yep. The universe definitely hated them. They hoped Ghoul was having more luck on his side. Scratch that: they prayed Ghoul was having more luck. The two of them would need it.

If only they had a phone. They could’ve called it, made sure he was safe. It was ridiculous how just badly they wanted to see it. Or just hear his voice, really.

Hopefully it’d be back the next day.

It was wild to think of how little time it had taken for Ghoul to become a permanent fixture in their life. They guessed it had been a long time coming. The warning signs had been blaring ever since Ghoul had stolen the sphere from them on that fateful night. Party had just been too blind to see it.

Between the fights and the rivalry, reaching a point of mutual understanding had taken some time, but Party couldn’t find it in themself to resent that. Knowing everything they knew now—all the hardships and misunderstandings and betrayals—they’d still do it all over again.

Chapter Text

When Ghoul stepped out of the bus—because, yes, Party had gone out to wait for it at the bus station—he looked like a shell of a human being.

Immediately, Party’s smile dropped and they rushed to its side. “G—” they stopped themself shy of saying Ghoulie, remembering their very public setting at the very last minute. “Are you okay?”

Ghoul gave them a weak smile. “I’ve been better.” Sighing, he added. “I’ll tell you all about it back at the apartment. Take me home, will you?”

Party rubbed its arm, trying to offer comfort as best as they could. “You don’t have to. Tell me about it, I mean.”

If Ghoul sounded less than impressed when he spoke up, at least its mind had been taken off of whatever had been bothering him. “P—Babe. I kind of do, y’know. Or did you forget all about our, erm, journalism project?”

So Party wasn’t the only one struggling with not calling Ghoul Ghoul. It was comforting, in a way. Not only that, but it got him to call them babe.

Leave it to Ghoul to make them feel flustered and humiliated at the same time, they thought as they spoke up again. “Of course I didn’t forget! I just meant you don't have to go into details. You really don’t look so good,” they clarified, concern apparent in both their face and tone.

Ghoul clutched its chest, fake-offended.

Even though they were fully aware that Ghoul wasn’t being serious, they couldn’t stop the word vomit from vomiting its way into the world. “Not like that! You’re really pretty. And I mean like really fucking hot. Like the mere sight of you is almost insulting. So yeah. I meant you look down. Like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ghoul chuckled, half-impressed, half-surprised. When it answered, its voice was teasing. “Um. Thanks? You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.”

“Ha! Sorry. Thanks. Sorry.”

“ Oh my god ,” Ghoul whispered to itself, and Party couldn’t stop their earlier grin from coming back when they noticed Ghoul’s face turning an adorable shade of red. “Dork.”

The walk back to the apartment was silent, but the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. Every once in a while, their shoulders would brush—or rather, Ghoul’s shoulder would bump into Party’s arm—and butterflies would flutter in Party’s stomach. They’d be content in forever living in that instant.

Of course, all good things had to come to an end: they reached the apartment, and the spell was broken.

“Dean Barnes won’t be of any help to us,” Ghoul sighed, sinking onto the sofa.

Oh, right. That.

Party frowned. “What happened?”

Ghoul looked down. Party was about to reiterate that he didn’t need to tell them when he spoke up. “His car was in the driveway, so I rang the doorbell. He opened the door and didn’t even make it past five seconds before he broke down. Said I reminded him of Sarah because I look like her. My mom.”

Suddenly, Ghoul’s appearance when he’d arrived made much more sense. They gulped. That couldn’t have been an easy thing to go through. “Can I hug you?”

Ghoul nodded, wordlessly walking up to them so they could snuggly wrap their arms around him. “I'm so sorry that happened to you,” they softly added, kissing the top of its head.

Under their arms, Ghoul shrugged. “It’s alright. I mean, it’s really not, but you know. It’s fine.”

Party tightened their grip on him as though the gesture would tell him everything they couldn’t. “It doesn’t have to be.”

They felt Ghoul’s nodding head move up and down against their chest. “I’d rather not think about it,” he admitted. “Had plenty of time to do that on the way back.”

They hummed, running a gentle hand through Ghoul’s silky black hair.

The two of them stood together for some more minutes—could’ve been two, could’ve been thirty. Time was tricky that way when they were around Ghoul—before it eventually spoke up again. “What about you?”

Party winced. “Burke would’ve shot me for trespassing if he was allowed to own a firearm, Grenier is on vacation, apparently, and—erm—Aguilero was killed by BL/ind just last week.”

Ghoul took a step back, and Party missed his warmth. “She what ?”

Their eyes were stuck to the floor when they confirmed he’d heard correctly. “I spoke to her brother. He’s willing to testify, but it’s dangerous and he’s not the one whose testimony really matters.”

“Fuck,” breathed Ghoul. “That’s—that’s horrible. I really shouldn’t have expected anything else coming from Korse, but shit , man.”

“They say it was a mugging gone wrong, but….” 

“Yeah.”

Party didn’t have to tell him: Ghoul was more than aware of the atrocities BL/ind could commit. God, they couldn’t stop thinking about its meeting with Barnes. What a horrible trip down memory lane.

Ghoul’s soft voice zoned them back in. “Should we really move on with the rest of our plan?” Party frowned, so it was quick to add: “It’s not that I don’t want to go ahead with it anymore. I just don’t know if we have enough to bring Korse down. And Tanner.”

Party’s expression darkened. “We’ll make it work. They deserve to pay for all that they’ve done.”

“I know. I know that,” Ghoul said with a scowl.

“Right. Sorry.”

The boy shook his head. “It’s fine. We’re just not of any use if we’re the ones taken down instead of them, y’know?”

“So we take them down first.” At the dubious look it shot them, they pressed on. “I’m serious! We may not have the testimonies we wanted, but there are still records of them working for BL/ind! And I know you don’t like Killjoy, but they would back us up. Tanner may be important, but she’s not the boss of us. Them. Whatever.”

Ghoul remained silent. Party was beginning to think he just wouldn’t speak up until he asked, “Is it worth risking it all?”

Party held its stare. “I can only hope so.”

Ghoul narrowed its eyes. “You’re willing to bet your life on hopes and dreams?”

“Listen, I don’t know what the right call is,” they admitted. “What I do know is that, what, an hour away from here? An hour from here, Marco Aguilero is mourning his murdered sister and she’ll never be avenged because no one will believe him.”

“You believe him. I believe him. Sometimes it’s all you need.”

Party was about to add something else when they noticed Ghoul’s face. His body was next to them, but his mind was years in the past, and guilt hit Party like a tidal wave. “I’m so sorry. I didn't think—”

“No, you’re right,” Ghoul interrupted them. “Marco deserves as much. As does Jenna. We’ll go.”

“Ghoul…” Party started. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not, but it doesn’t make you any less right. It just brought up old wounds. Anyway. I know I—I would’ve liked someone having my back, all those years ago. We can be that for Marco.”

“You decide,” Party declare. “Whatever you choose, I trust your instinct.”

Ghoul’s stare was almost too much to handle. “And I trust yours. We’ll do it.”

♡

Ghoul was busy studying the BL/ind facility they were breaking into’s blueprints, so Party went out for a walk. They had no idea how Ghoul had even found the blueprints: Better Living industries were jealous of that sort of information.

Kobra was good with that stuff, too. He would’ve pulled out the blueprints in a time record. In an ideal world, maybe he and Ghoul could’ve been friends. Thinking of their brother only made them sad, though, so they tried to stop doing it. If this mission went well, they’d see him in no time.

God, they’d have a lot of explaining to do.

Jet and Kobra would never let them forget them dipping their toes in the villain pond. If they ever forgave them, that was. Their heart sank. Fuck, they hoped they’d understand.

At the very least, if it all went well, they could see both of them soon. Maybe they wouldn’t be willing to leave it all in the past, but they still owed them an explanation. And an apology.

Standing in front of the store they’d been walking towards, they slipped their face mask on. They had errands to run.

A few minutes later, they were running out of that same entrance, store alarms blaring. Luckily for them, no cop cars had been nearby, so the way was clear for them to hide in the forming crowd.

Stealing from the store hadn’t felt as exhilarating as they’d thought it would. The excitement was a background buzz buried under layers of numbness. There hadn’t even been any obstacle. The only opposition they’d faced was the security guard yelling at them to come back and pay for their items.

It had taken their mind of off Kobra and Jet and the sadness thinking of them brought, though.

The remainder of their little walk was mostly them turning at every corner, making sure they weren’t being followed. Once they were sure they were in the clear, they took off their mask and turned some more corners before making their way back to Ghoul’s apartment.

Ghoul’s furious face welcomed them. They stepped in and closed the door behind them, bracing themself for the chewing out they knew they were about to be on the receiving end of.

“When I said I trusted your instinct, I didn’t mean ‘go rob a store,’ Party!”

They scowled. “Like you’re one to talk. You fell on Killjoy’s radar because of petty theft.”

“Oh, apologies,” Ghoul said, but he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “I wasn’t aware your goal was to get noticed by Killjoy.”

Party tried to push past it, but he yanked them back. For once, they weren’t even flustered by the contact. Well. Right until they looked down at Ghoul’s face. He looked murderous: his eyes had even done that weird thing where they switched black and white—a look Party hadn’t seen directed at them in a while —and Party was definitely going to hell because it was kind of really hotter than it should’ve been. They forced the thought away, bringing their full attention back to a fuming Ghoul.

“You’re not walking away from this, Pois. We need to talk.”

Party shook its hand off of their arm. “There’s nothing to talk about. What’s done is done. It’s not like Killjoy’s going to take me back anyway. They can’t be that stupid.” 

A flash of unease passed through Ghoul’s face, and his eyes flashed back to normal. Party thought, bingo . Ghoul tried to hide it, but he agreed. He agreed, he fucking knew they were right. It just didn’t want Party to know he did. They grinned—not that there was anything funny. No, this was the hysterical grip of someone losing their grip on sanity.

Unsurprisingly, Ghoul’s reply carefully avoided the topic: “What did you even fucking steal? You know I could’ve lent you money. Or, you know, you could’ve done like everyone else and shoplifted it silently. No need to cause a scene.” He didn’t sound all that angry anymore, his outburst over.

For some reason, Ghoul calming down was what brought Party back to their senses. As he reached towards Party’s bag, they frowned, deflating. “Shit. I don’t—I was just—”

“Holy fuck,” Ghoul whispered as he looked through Party’s bag. “You planning on cremating someone or something?”

Party looked down, avoiding its eyes. “I guess your talk about needing weapons stuck with me.”

“Jesus, Party.”

Party brought their stare to their shoes. 

“Hey, is there anything you wanna talk about?” Ghoul sounded concerned. It was unfair: they’d been the one to fuck up, Ghoul shouldn’t have to feel bad because of them. It didn’t deserve that. It got enough shit from everyone else.

They hugged themself. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It was stupid, you’re right. I didn’t mean to let you down. It won’t happen again.”

Ghoul’s shoulder dropped, the last bit of tension leaving his body. “Pois… I wouldn’t give a rat’s shit if you stole the fucking sun. It’s just—I’m worried about you. This isn’t like you. And I don’t just mean the store. Just—I know you feel like you have to go through with the plans we’ve made, but we can stop. Just say the word, and we’ll pull the brakes on the entire thing. And not just tearing down BL/ind, you know. Any thing.” Ghoul’s eyes flickered between them and his chest, and Party’s heart tightened.

They were terrified of the answer but they had to ask. “Do you? Want to put a stop to the plan? To… us?”

“I thought maybe you did,” Ghoul said slowly, like Party was a cup it was scared it might break. “And in the off chance that you do, I won’t hold it against you.”

“But do you?”

Ghoul’s sad smile was enough to break their heart. Him and its fucking sad smiles. “Of course not. Fuck, Pois. But that doesn’t matter if—”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” Party swore, gently pulling it closer so they could place a desperate kiss on his lips. Maybe then he’d understand. All the words they couldn’t say, maybe then Ghoul would see.

Chapter Text

“Can you pass me my hoodie, please?” Party had just woken up and the winter weather had wasted no time reminding them of just how fucking freezing it was.

“I love how you say that like you didn’t absolutely steal it from me,” Ghoul answered, rolling his eyes but giving them the hoodie anyway.

They grinned as they shrugged innocently. The hoodie was a bit too small for them, but it smelled like Ghoul and it was really comfortable. Oh, and it smelled like Ghoul.

“You do know you have a hoodie of your own, right?” Ghoul added, more amused by the situation than anything.

“That’s the one I wear over my suit!”

“So? It’s black! It’s not like someone will recognize you because of it!”

Party crossed their arms. “What if I just want to wear your hoodie?”

“Well I—” Ghoul’s petty reply died in its throat as it caught up with what Party had just said. He sputtered, flustered, before lamely ending it with, “I suppose that’s alright.”

They couldn’t help it: they burst out in laughter. “You’re so fucking gay.”

“Only for you,” he added with an angelic smile, and while Party knew he’d said it with good humor, it didn’t stop their heart from going into cardiac arrest.

Party and Ghoul had never officially talked about what they were. Well, there was that time they’d established they were archnemeses—though they were a bit far from that point—and then friends, but they hadn’t broached the subject ever since.

They’d admittedly talked a bit the day before, and had clarified that both of them wanted the thing between them to keep going, but the aforementioned thing hadn’t been named. Rationally, they knew it was a long time coming, but it scared them to no avail. Further communication be damned: ignoring it while they enjoyed whatever they had going on was so much more appealing.

It wasn’t like they didn’t know how Ghoul felt. Or rather how it mostly felt? Ugh. 

It didn’t really matter for the moment, they decided. It didn’t cause any issue while Party wasn’t associated with Killjoy. They’d have no choice but to eventually talk , but that could wait for after they’d brought BL/ind down. If this was just a way to pass the time for Ghoul, they’d take it in stride. They’d be crushed, obviously, but they’d accept it and try their best to move on.

Still, they couldn’t fight the urge to sit him down and ask, ‘what are we?’. The only thing keeping them from actually doing so was the paralyzing fear that they wouldn’t like the answer.

But it was fine! This was fine! Ghoul was into them, and the rest would have to wait.

“You okay?” he asked, and Party realized they’d been zoned out for quite some time, standing in front of the door.

“Yeah, sorry. Lost in thought,” they explained.

“And I’m gay,” Ghoul scoffed as they walked away. Party had half a mind to come back in the room and reply to that, but they were also really fucking hungry and they craved coffee. They didn’t trust what they’d say without any food and caffeine in their body.

They didn’t usually spend that much time thinking about them and Ghoul’s relationship—or lack thereof. The two of them clarifying their feelings for each other and their mission the night before had just reminded them of how close they were to raiding BL/ind. Aka the last step of their plan.

Party was already on their second cup of coffee when Ghoul joined them. Maybe the reason why he always committed crimes at night was because he couldn’t wake up for shit in the morning, Party thought, amused by its sleepy antics.

Ghoul stubbed his toe on the counter four times before he reached the coffee machine and groggily poured itself a cup of the coffee Party had prepared. He hummed, tipping his cup at them in what they knew meant ‘thanks’.

“You’re welcome!”

Ghoul hummed again, stubbing his toe three more times before it sat down next to them. Party never ceased to find his morning routine funny. It was fine right up until the moment he stood up from his bed. From then and until he drank coffee, his movements were mechanical, thoughtless. As soon as he was done with his coffee, though, he was a fully functioning person once again.

A few minutes later, his cup was drunk and, as predicted, he’d been rebooted. 

“Oh, Pois!” he exclaimed. “We should review the plan for the raid again!”

Ah, yes. The raid. Party gulped. “Yeah!”

“I think we should focus on Aguilero’s files. She’s the only one out of the four we’ve managed to get a hold of… kind of…. And Grenier, too. I know she’s on vacation, but she might be willing to help when she gets back. She never said no.”

“We should try to find the employee records of those who are still in prison, too. The first few might seem like a coincidence, but it stops being one after that. So many employees turning out to be criminals becomes incriminating. Especially if we find files of reemployment for all of the Dracs and Crows that came running back to Better Living.

“Alright, so that’s everyone, pretty much.” Party shot it a dirty look and it just laughed. “Kidding! What’s up your ass this morning?”

They raised an eyebrow, and Ghoul scowled. “Shut up.”

“I did not say a word,” they said through a smile. “Anyway. Entry points.”

Ghoul snorted, and it was Party’s turn to scowl. “Really? What are you, twelve?”

“Fine, fine. Entry points. Vents?”

Party groaned. “Not the fucking vents again. I can’t believe they didn’t secure them better after I used them to break into their headquarters.”

“I don’t think they know you did that,” Ghoul pointed.

Right. Kobra had disabled the cameras, so no one had seen them leave the control room. The only one who could know was the guard they’d taken out in the room, but there was no telling what he remembered. From BL/ind’s point of view, Party easily could’ve knocked him out after the security cameras had been messed with.

Also Party was pretty sure the guard had been blown up. So.

“How did you get in?” Party asked.

“Broke a basement window. Hey, maybe you saved my ass when you disabled the cams! Come to think of it, you probably did. I found it weird that no one thought to investigate. Huh. Turns out they didn’t even fuckin’ know.”

“That was Kobes,” Party informed him. “My brother.” Ghoul already knew they had a brother after they’d overheard Jet and Kobra’s conversation while they were in the broom closet, and he’d heard Party talking to Kobra on the phone. This was just confirmation of something he’d probably already guessed.

Besides, they knew about Ghoul’s mother. It was only fair. They would’ve told it ages ago if it weren’t just for them. They’d kept quiet for Kobra, but Ghoul had proven itself more than worthy of their trust times and times again. 

“You must miss him,” Ghoul stated.

“Like crazy,” Party confessed. “We used to see each other every day, y’know? And now….”

They didn’t have to finish their sentence—Ghoul understood. After all, he’d been with Party all this time and they’d only run into Kobra once.

“Wait, is he the one who I made the girlfriend joke in front of?” Ghoul asked. When Party confirmed that, yes, in fact, that had been their brother, his face was an odd mix of horror and delight. “Oh man, he hates my guts!”

“You’ll grow on him,” Party said without thinking, and the silence was deafening.

Right.

They cleared their throat, and brought the conversation back to safe waters. “Okay, so vents—”

♡

If the vents back at Better Living industries’ headquarters had been shit, then these ones were… even more shit. Shittier. Whatever. Party vainly wished BL/ind would’ve had the time to rebuild the old building. The temporary HQ’s vents were so tight and dusty.

Not only that, but Ghoul was about half their size, so he did not experience the same problem Party did. No, it was speeding ahead, Party quite literally eating its dust. 

“Would you fucking slow down?” they hissed, out of breath. “Not everyone here is under five feet.”

“I’m well over five feet, you shit!”

To his credit, he stopped moving as fast as he had.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached their destination. They weren’t aiming for stealth, so their first—and only—stop was the room where the records were kept.

Finding out which room exactly that was had taken some digging, but Party and Ghoul had been preparing for this raid—along with each three steps of their plan—for over a month. Just finding this HQ replacement building hadn’t been an easy task. It may or may not have required Party beating a Crow for information—something Ghoul had frowned at, but when prompted, he’d only said, “nothing”. All that to say, Better Living industries were good at covering their tracks, but Ghoul and Party were on a warpath.

Party set their backpack on the floor, Ghoul eyeing it warily. He’d disapproved of them bringing it, but hadn’t argued. Party wasn’t sure what its issue with it was: he’d destroyed BL/ind facilities in the past, they didn’t quite get his current reservations. They hadn’t stolen a shit ton of gasoline from that store for the fun of it.

“Party, over here!’ Ghoul yelled excitedly. “Look!”

“Holy shit, Ghoul!” The boy was holding a stack of employment files in one hand and brandishing Jenna’s in the other.

The two of them bent over the pile, sorting through them, pulling out files showing names they recognized. Party stuffed as many as they could in their backpack. Since the files were backed up on BL/ind’s computers, there was no risk for them to take the pieces of paper.

Everything was going too well. They had the time to take as many files as they pleased before the first alarm rang.

Party smirked as they handed him a gasoline container. “Showtime.”

Ghoul hesitated, but ended up accepting, his every moves screaming reluctance.

The following minutes were a blur. One moment, they were barging out of the room, soaking the place in gasoline, and the next, flames soared as gunshots deafened the two of them.

“Shit!” Party swore when they ran into a squad of Dracs. While Dracs usually were easy to handle, the fact remained that there were 5 of them and Party and Ghoul were only two.

“I got it,” Ghoul grunted, eyes flashing white. The squad backed up, but they were too late; they’d been too late the moment they had stepped foot in its path. Ghoul thrust its hand towards them, and the wave of energy sent the Dracs flying.

The outburst had taken a toll on him, though. It didn’t say, but Party saw him sway. When the next horde of Dracs found them, they held out a hand. “My turn.”

Ghoul grunted, but ultimately let them when Party added, “Save your energy for later.”

Party didn’t pull any punches. They threw themself into the fight, relentlessly ducking and hitting. A Drac swung at them, and they sent a thanks out to Kobra for all of the time he’d made them practice his karate grips with him. They sidestepped the Drac, and their poor form made them lose their balance. From there, all Party had to do was grab them and throw them at one of their comrades.

“And that’s bowling for you!” they declared smugly.

The remaining two Dracs looked like they wanted to run, but the one who’d been brought down like a pin yelled, “What are you waiting for? Get their ass!”

At her anger, the Dracs pulled out guns, aiming at Party. The latter would’ve been worried if they didn’t know for a fact that Dracs couldn’t shoot for shit. With a swift kick, they knocked the gun out of the first’s hands, catching the weapon in the air so they could point it at the second one.

“Drop the gun,” they ordered, smiling behind their mask. “I’d hate to shoot you.”

“I’d listen to them,” Ghoul amiably suggested. “You’d probably hate to be shot.”

The Drac whose gun had been stolen didn’t have to be told twice—even though they technically hadn’t been talking to them. The second Drac soon followed their footsteps.

“Fools,” the girl on the floor spat. “They’ll never get a promotion like that.”

Party laughed. “And you think you will? 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Ghoul muttered next to them. He obviously hadn’t meant for Party—or anyone else, really—to hear, which only made the whole thing funnier. Party choked on air, doing their best not to lose face in front of the Drac. She’d been humbled enough as it was, she didn’t need them doubling over in laughter.

No, they only glanced at Ghoul, who proceeded to look away when he realized he’d been heard. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” it grumbled. “And shut the fuck up.”

“Didn’t say a thing,” they said as they ran.

“You’ve said plenty enough,” Ghoul huffed.

When they turned the corner, Scarecrows awaited them, and Party felt severely unequipped. Their guns were much, much more deadly than theirs, and gasoline could only take them so far. Dracs weren’t worth worrying over, but Crows were definitely more of a concern.

They raised their gun, but Ghoul lowered it, grabbing their wrist instead.

“Wha—” Before they could finish their question, they were being whisked away. Ghoul collided with the window, dragging Party down with them.

A bush cushioned their fall, and Party dared to hope that Ghoul knew it had been there. It was better than the alternative—the alternative being Ghoul jumping from the second floor for shits and giggles.

“We’ve got—we’ve got to stop jumping off of heights as a means to escape,” Party grunted as they stood up, struggling to catch their breath.

“Hah! You’re welcome, by the way.”

Party opened their mouth to answer, but was drowned out by gunshots.

“On second thought, thank me later!”

Once again, Ghoul grabbed their wrist, leading them away.

They weren’t sure just how much time they spent running. Definitely too much. It was a miracle the two of them had gotten out without a bullet wound, they thought as they finally—finally—came to a halt, panting. Their knuckles were bloody and their body hadn’t taken well to the fall, but the adrenaline high prevented them from feeling more than a buzzing sensation.

Party turned to Ghoul, grinning wildly. “Woah!” they exclaimed, hysteric. “That was crazy! What a fucking rush!”

Ghoul laughed, but its heart obviously wasn’t into it.

They frowned, concerned. Was he hurt? It had been raining bullets, but Ghoul hadn’t been hit, had he? “Ghoulie?”

It raised sad eyes at them, and their inside churned. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Ghoul looked at them as it raised its fist, electricity crackling, and Party froze. “Ghoul.”

His stare dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Everything in Party wanted to take a step back, but their body refused to move. They didn’t even flinch when Ghoul brought its hand down on them. They were so numb, they didn’t even feel the hit. Honestly, they could’ve fooled themself into thinking they’d imagined it if it weren’t for the fact that they fell to the grass-covered ground with a silenced thud.

Confusion, hurt and betrayal blurred together as their vision faded to black.

Chapter Text

Party came to, half aware of their surroundings. They could feel the wind on their face, their feet dangling into the air. A rooftop, maybe? Ghoul was fond of those.

Ghoul….

Their fuzzy brain struggled to recall what had just happened. They remembered the raid, and then… oh .

Party trashed, trying to find their footing.

Was that why Ghoul had looked pained when they’d beaten up that Crow? Why he hadn’t wanted them to torch BL/ind? Why it had asked Party if they wanted to stop their Better Living purge?

Had it all been a lie, all along? Surely some of it had to have been true.

It didn’t make sense .

“I’m sorry,” Ghoul said, and Party’s head snapped towards him. There he was . At the sight of it, Party fought to keep angry tears from spilling.

They wanted to speak to it, to yell at it, but no sound escaped their mouth. Actually, now that they thought of it, their mouth did have a weird sensation. They experimentally chewed, freezing when they realized they had a gag. They brought their distressed stare back to Ghoul, but the boy was avoiding their eyes.

“It’s easier if you hate me,” it whispered.

Easier for who? , they wanted to scream. Because they didn’t hate him, wouldn’t hate him. No, they fucking loved him. Funny how it had taken them this to finally admit it to themself. They’d never said it—had refused to even think it—but of course they loved it.

However, all that they managed to get out was a small, muffled whimper before they slipped back into unconsciousness.

♡

More wind. Party was getting tired of waking up with no clue as to where they were.

The confusion—and annoyance—quickly cleared when their vision focused, though. Once again, they were on a rooftop, but this was a rooftop they knew. At the sign of Killjoy’s glowing insignia, realization struck and their entire brain went numb.

“I’m sorry,” Ghoul said again, as though it made things okay. As though it could offer even a crumb of comfort. Oh, what a fool he was. There was nothing Party could do except let their vision blur as Kiljoy’s alarm started blaring and killjoys flooded the roof.

“Is that…?” At the sound of Jet’s voice, Party searched for her through the crowd, spotting her next to their brother.

Kobra. Oh, fuck, Kobra . “Party!” he yelled, running towards them,but Jet held him back before he could cover much distance. “Jet, let go of me!”

“You can’t just go there!” she yelled back at him, and she had to be in one hell of a state to raise her voice at him. “Do you not see Fun Ghoul next to him?”

At the mention of its name, Party tried to shake themself free of its iron grip, inciting worried gasps from the killjoys surrounding them.

“I come in fucking peace, bastards,” Ghoul spat. “Take them.”

Jet took a step towards the two of them, seething. “What do you want?”

Bering this close to him, Party could hear Ghoul chuckle. It freed one of its hands, and Party took advantage of his grip loosening to try to disentangle themself from it.

Their attempt was quickly stopped, Ghoul placing its second hand back where it had been. “Would you fucking stop ?” it pleaded, and something in his voice made them comply.

Kobra didn’t seem to agree with their decision. “Party, what are you doing? Get out of there !”

“They’re barely even conscious,” Jet told him.

Party stared stupidly as Ghoul’s hand raised up to its mask. Only when he started to take it off did they start acting out.

They trashed and trashed, but everytime they moved, Ghoul had no choice but to stop taking his mask off and go back to holding them tightly. Good , they thought. Party wasn’t about to let him have it his way.

“You’re only going to hurt yourself!” it yelled. “Why won’t you let me do this?”

Party tried to scream something, anything, at him, but all that came out were muffled sounds of protest.

This time, when Ghoul tried to take off his mask, they were too slow to stop him. They saw the zombie mask fall to the ground, and the gagged scream they made felt like someone was driving a rake through their throat from the inside out.

“I captured Party Poison,” Ghoul declared, ignoring the crisis said Party Poison was having. “They have taken no part in any of the crimes I’ve committed since I’ve escaped.”

Jet scoffed. “That goes without saying. What do you want in return?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? There’s got to be a catch.”

“No catch. Pois here is innocent; I don’t believe innocent people should be punished. Do you, Jet Star?” it drawled.

“Don’t you dare call them that,” Kobra growled. “How do we know we can trust you? You stole Party!”

“And I’m giving them back! Take them, and take me.”

At this, Party’s reflexes seemed to finally kick in. They tried to shake Ghoul off of them, desperate. What was he thinking? Showing his face to Killjoy? Surrendering?

Jet and Kobra—as well as every other killjoy present—shared an uncomfortable look. 

“What have you done to them?” Kobra eventually accused. “Look at them! They wouldn’t be acting this way if you weren’t up to something.”

Ghoul shrugged. “Listen, man, I’ve taken my mask off for you. Even if I were to go home, finding every single thing there is to know about me would take you two days, tops. Either you take me now, or we meet again at my apartment in, what, five hours? I’d rather go out like this. You know, with the rest of my dignity.”

“ Why ? Why turn yourself in now ?” Jet asked. No, demanded.

Ghoul smiled, meeting Party’s teary eyes. It was answering Jet, but it spoke to Party and Party alone. “Call it a change of morals.”

It was like everyone was blind to Party’s desperate protests. Kobra ran to them, hugging them as Jet angrily tore Ghoul away from them, handcuffing it no matter their anguished outcries.

♡

Party wanted to throw their phone in the ocean. After a medical evaluation at HQ, they’d been sent home. They’d tried to fight it, but it was like the entire world had turned a blind eye to their discontentment.

“You need to sleep it off, Pois,” Kobra had said, and Party had wanted to scream, because what they needed was to see Ghoul. 

It had been put back in the detention center. Killjoy wanted him right where they could monitor him closely. There was always at least one killjoy stationed in front of its cell, and another one watching the security feeds.

“He’s not escaping again,” Jet had said, and it had taken Party everything not to tell her that that was exactly the problem.

So yeah, they wanted to throw their phone into the ocean. They remembered how they used to think of it as insurance that everything would go back to normal, that their new arrangement with Ghoul was only temporary. Oh, how they wished they could go back to that time. It hadn’t even been a day, but every second cloistered in their apartment felt like a month.

“When can I see him?” Party finally mustered the courage to ask Kobra, a few days after Ghoul’s capture.

Kobra closed the door behind him, and set down his Killjoy bag. “I’m not sure that seeing him is wise,” he said as softly as he could.

Party looked down. “I just… I need to see him. Closure, you know?”

It was Kobra’s turn to look down. To be fair, in his mind, Party had just gone through the most traumatic experience in their life and was asking to see the person who’d allegedly held them hostage for well over a month. Maybe Party would’ve felt more guilty about the hurt they’d caused Kobra if they weren’t worried sick over Ghoul.

They hadn’t seen him since that night, and not for a lack of trying. Apparently, Killjoy felt they weren't ready to jump back into being a superhero. Personally, Party agreed, but not for the same reasons.

Ghoul bringing the both of them to Killjoy had thrown sticks in their plan: Tanner was still in Killjoy’s ranks, and BL/ind was still standing. The worst part was that they almost had all of the evidence they needed to bring them down. If they could just access BL/ind convicts, they could maybe even actually pull it off.

Killjoy’s increased security kind of prevented that, though. They couldn’t reach the prisoners as themself, nor could they reach them as a villain. They were doomed to rot in their apartment while Ghoul suffered from it in a prison cell.

“If that’s something you feel you need, then I’ll see what I can do,” Kobra said in answer to their plea. 

Party smiled gratefully, allowing themself to hope.

Their prayers were answered: the following morning, Kobra gently shook them awake.

“Come on, Pois.”

They opened their drawer, looking for their favorite hoodie before they remembered that it wasn’t actually theirs. It was Ghoul’s, which meant that it was back at its apartment. They slipped on one of their shirts instead, feeling out of place in it.

The commute to HQ was silent: ever since Kobra had gotten them back, he’d been handling them delicately, like he was afraid they might break if he overwhelmed them. Kobra wouldn’t initiate small talk, and Party didn’t feel like it either, so the two of them stayed quiet.

Kobra only started talking in Killjoy HQ’s hallways. “You should contact your boyfriend,” he let out. It was spoken so softly, Party almost didn’t hear him.

“What?”

“I wanted to reach him, but I couldn’t find him in your contacts. Maybe he texted, I don’t know. Your phone died and I didn’t have the heart to charge it.”

That boyfriend. Right. “Um.”

“Sorry if you… if you broke up.  I don’t know, I just. Yeah. He might be wondering where you are if not.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. There’s, um, there’s no boyfriend, Kobes.” They cracked the tiniest smile. This was just as good a time as any to rip off the bandaid. “I just wanted you to shut up.”

“You—” Kobra scoffed. “And I can’t even be mad at you. Clever bastard.”

Party shrugged, unable to keep their smile from growing. They’d missed Kobra. Not the weird, scared version he’d (understandably) been lately. No, their brother, who never hesitated to give them shit for anything they did.

Eventually, though, they found themself in front of the detention center, and Kobra’s mood visibly dropped.

“Can I be alone?” they asked. “No cameras, no audio, no guards. I just—this is something I need for myself.”

Kobra looked like he wanted to say no.

“He won’t hurt me. It gave me back, remember?”

Their brother gritted his teeth. “Yeah, bruised and battered. You didn’t see your face, Pois.”

Party looked away. The wounds came from their very intentional attack on BL/ind, and the look on their face had not meant what Kobra thought it had.

They placed a reassuring hand on Kobra’s shoulder. “I’ll be okay, Kobes. I can’t have anyone else with me, anyone else hearing and prying into what happened.” If they played up the desperate and broken act in the hopes of Kobra giving in, that was for them to know and no one else.

Their efforts bore fruit, for Kobra sighed heavily. “ Fine . But at the slightest sign of trouble, I’m sending the big guns in.”

Party nodded, grateful. “Deal.”

From there and until they’d reached Ghoul’s cell, their head felt like it might explode. They didn’t know if they wanted to punch Ghoul, kiss Ghoul, or cuss him out until they physically couldn't speak.

In the end, none of that happened. They pushed open the door and froze. Ghoul had to be the one to break the silence.

“Pois?”

Hearing him was all they needed to tick , a strangled sob escaping them. “ Fuck ,” they let out, leaning against the glass pane separating them.

“ Why? ”

Ghoul’s smile was sad, but not regretful. “I never wanted you to change for me. You matter more to me than this villain occupation.”

Another sob spilled out, and they clasped a hand over their mouth.

“You’re a good person, Pois,” Ghoul continued. “You shouldn’t change that for someone like me.”

Party frowned, turning around so they could properly face Ghoul. “And you’re more important to me than some set of morals!” they protested.

Ghoul’s heavy sigh made him seem ten years older. “And that’s why I had to put an end to it.”

Party stepped back like it had slapped them in the face. “You don’t get to make that decision for me! I just—you couldn’t like me as a hero, and I get that, but then you wouldn’t even like me as a villain? I just don’t get it.”

Ghoul shook its head, and Party could see its eyes were watery. “Is that what this is about? What’s there not to get, idiot? I like you as you .”

“ Then why won’t you have me? ”

“Because this wasn’t you! Pois, you were fucked up. You were not okay. I told you, you’re a good person. I don’t want to be the reason you break.”

“Why not just leave me, then? Why did you have to come?”

“Would you really have let me go? In case you’ve forgotten, you weren’t really hostage, Pois. You left Killjoy of your own free will. Are you telling me you would’ve stayed, this time?”

Party hated that they couldn’t tell him off. Their silence was all too incriminating. 

“I never hated you, by the way,” they said instead.

“What?”

“You said, ‘it’s easier if you hate me.’ I don’t hate you.”

I love you , they would’ve said if they were braver. But Party was not a brave person in that respect, so all they said was, “I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” and prayed it was enough for Ghoul to know.

Chapter Text

Party tugged on their suit, grinning. They’d finally gotten the all clear to go back to work, and they were personally going to make it Tanner’s biggest problem.

“Don’t you look chipper this morning,” Kobra observed.

They shrugged, their grin growing. “Oh, you know.”

“No, I don’t,” he grumbled. “I would’ve pinned it on your boyfriend, but apparently you don’t have one .”

Kobra still hadn’t quite let go of that just yet. Party doubted he ever would. They could be getting married, and Kobra would bring it up in his best man’s speech.

It would be funny if they were getting married to Ghoul though, seeing as he was the person behind the boyfriend, their brain unhelpfully pointed out, and Party felt their face burn.

Kobra mistook it as shame and laughed. “Yeah, you better feel bad about it. I still don’t get who you had a crush on, though.”