Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Too Damn Hot
The one day that it was too hot to go outside was, of course, the one day they had nothing to do inside. Nothing to clean, nothing to can, nothing to make, nothing to fix up for somebody willing to pay- except for that car out in their make-shift garage that Ghoul had decided was a good idea to work on in the blistering heat.
Party Poison sighed, shuffling his cards back into a deck. He had figured that playing solitaire would distract him from his boredom, but he was absolutely shit at it, and that just made the situation worse. He set the deck down and wandered over to the table Kobra Kid and Jet Star were sitting at, across from each other but completely ignoring each other. Jet was fiddling with some sort of device, probably an old vend-a-hack, while Kobra was cutting up a magazine with a pair of rusty scissors. They were just as bored as he was, it seemed.
“Where's the radio?” Party asked, sitting down next to his brother. Dr. D might be, and the old friends shows were always a welcome distraction.
“Ghoul has it,” Kobra replied flatly, keeping his eyes intently on the picture he was trying to cut out.
Party groaned. “He knows the heat is totally gonna warp the battery, right?”
“I told him that, and that we don't have the money for a new battery, but he said he needed background noise,” Jet said, only looking up for a moment to send his friends a small smile. “He'll be back in soon, I'm sure. Even the infamous Fun Ghoul can't survive in one hundred thirty degree heat.”
Party rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to groan for a second time. Seriously, Ghoul was a complete idiot. If he wanted background noise, why didn't he just take the old cassette player? They could pretty easily live without that, since there was another installed in the trans-am. The jackass always had to take their good equipment to places they could get wrecked.
The leader of the four snapped out of his irritated, heat-amplified thoughts when Kobra groaned loudly and dropped the scissors and magazine on the table, adding unneeded force to the drop. He briefly looked at Jet, who shook his head, before turning to his brother and raised a quizzical brow. The often poker-faced man had a small look of annoyance and disgust on his face. He looked at his older brother and then gestured to the magazine. There was a tiny, miniscule cut going into the City actresses face, one that could be easy ignored. But, to Kobra, it was a big deal.
“Kiddo, you won't even be able to tell it's there if you paste the thing onto paper,” Party said.
“No. It's ruined,” The younger insisted.
Party shook his head at his brother, knowing it was useless to try to convince him otherwise.
After the small outburst, they fell back into a bored silence. Jet returned to his vend-a-hack, Kobra started cutting out other pictures, and Party just sat in the seat, arms crossed, waiting for something to happen.
Just when he felt like he was about to explode from his frustration over intense boredom, a very sweaty looking Fun Ghoul shoved open the diner door with his foot and marched inside. He kicked the door closed again, making the old metal frame rattle, and plodded over to the table everyone else was sitting at. Party watched him with an amused smirk, but frowned again when the other practically tossed the radio onto the table.
“What, so warping the battery isn't enough? Ya gotta break the damn thing entirely?” He was only half-teasing. It was too hot to be completely joking.
“I didn't warp the battery! Jeez,” Ghoul said, out of breath. He sat down next to Jet. “Why is it like, thirty-something degrees cooler in here?”
“Because you fixed the fans, and it's literally hell outside right now,” Kobra replied, his voice back to its normal, oddly sassy flatness.
“Well, I needed to get a start on that car.”
“No you didn't,” Party said, leaning towards the sweaty man. “Don't go outside when it's dead hot out. We don't have enough water to properly cure dehydration right now.”
Same old, stubborn Fun Ghoul. The man rolled his eyes, and sat back in seat, obviously annoyed. Party smirked and snickered at him, which resulted in a scowl from the other.
“I thought you were pissed over the radio.”
“I get over grudges fast.” Party smiled. Ghoul's irritated expression didn't falter. After a few more moments, Party started to cross his eyes. Ghoul chuckled, and shook his head at the other, getting up.
“Getting some water?”
“Duh. Turn on the radio!”
The red-haired man grabbed the radio and turned it around to face him. He leaned down so he could actually see the numbers and letters on the knobs- he needed glasses, but those were impossible to get out in the zones- and ignored the hair that fell in front of his eyes. He pulled out the antenna, flipped the device on, and started fiddling with the knobs. Static and snatches of voices and songs filled the air around him. He stuck his tongue out in his concentration on finding the right channel. He party even looked up when Ghoul loudly placed a glass with a small amount of water in it on the table. It took a few minutes, but Party finally got the radio on the right channel, and everyone perked up at the sound of clear, if not slightly static-y, music. He smiled triumphantly.
As soon as the song ended, a man started talking. His voice had even more static to it than the song had. “Alright, motorbabies, that was the ever-loved 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' by the classic grunge band from before the wars, Nirvana, a band especially hated by the city.”
“Dr. D sure has been playing a lot of music that the city hates,” Jet said, tilting his head to the side a little.
“Jet, he always plays music the city hates. He literally only plays music the city hates,” Ghoul replied.
Jet Star shrugged.
“Now, I got special message comin' from Zone Three about rising killjoy-stars that are being called 'The Young Bloods' by some of the local neutrals.”
Party had only been giving the broadcast half of his attention, as he was reviewing what he thought were the lyrics to the song that had just ended in his head, but when he heard 'rising killjoy-stars', the radio immediately had his full and undivided attention. 'Killjoy', 'rising', and 'stars' often ended with a negative connotation, as a lot of newer bands of killjoys had a bad habit of getting themselves into trouble, and even ghosted on occasion. It was exactly what their cause didn't need at the moment, and he wanted to know more about these new kids before anything bad went down.
“These boys are setting themselves up a reputation for helping the helpless and saving the almost lifeless, with all their antics in stopping a small troop of draculoids from shooting up a neutral town and ghosting every last zonerunner and crash-queen in the area. They've got themselves up from lonely little tumbleweeds, blowin' through the zones, to happy little cacti with their roots stuck under the hot desert sun in a matter on months.”
Months? Party breathed a small sigh of relief. Most of the gangs that rose to fame often did it in a couple of weeks, and only lasted a few more before the trouble came. As far as he could assume, these guys were being careful, and only got recognition for acting out of the average decency to protect those that needed it.
“The Young Bloods have a small thrift shop out near the town of Bristle in Zone numero tres. Dracs and bandits better watch out, 'cause these kids aren't letting anybody harm anyone.”
“We have to go meet them!” Party declared, drowning out the radio with the volume of his voice.
“Why?” Ghoul asked, tone somehow cynical. He didn't seem to like the prospect of going back outside. Well, that was his own problem. He chose to go out in the first place.
“We need more allies,” The leader put simply. “These ki- these guys sound like they're trying to do help out, ya know? Not like those other groups, or gangs. They sound like decent fighters, too. We could use allies like that.”
Without another word, Party walked out of the diner. He tied his bandanna around his mouth and nose before getting in the trans-am driver seat. He pushed on his sunglasses, and gave the others a minute or two to come outside. He really didn't like sitting in the heat while waiting for their lazy asses to get moving, but whatever. He had made a decision, and he needed the other guys on board. He knew they would join him, though, because when the infamous Party Poison made a decision, it was generally final.
Kobra was the first to come out of the car. He had his helmet on, the visor reading 'good luck' pulled down. He got into the front seat and pushed the visor up to look at his older brother, who simply raised a brow at him. Party chuckled, knowing how much Kobra hated dust. Jet followed soon after, tugging along a tired Grace, who had just woken from a nap. She climbed into the back seat and sat in the middle, leaving the right side open for Ghoul, when he showed up.
“Where we goin', Party?” She asked, her voice groggy.
“Zone three. We're meeting some new 'joys! Sound fun?” He kept his tone friendly and happy for the sake of the little girl.
“Yeah, that sounds cool.”
He smiled at the little girl through the mirror, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see it because of the bandanna and the sunglasses. He watched as she snuggled up to Jet, finding it just a little too adorable.
Ghoul threw himself into the back seat just when Kobra looked like he was going to start complaining, and possibly drag the younger man's ass out to the car.
“Alright! To Zone Three we go!” Party said, excited. It wasn't every day he got to meet new killjoys. “Put on your bandannas, because the windows are staying down.”
It took a minute to get the trans-am out of the sand- Party yelled at Ghoul for parking it there, telling him it was bad for the axles, and he was the mechanic, he had to know that! Once they were on the road, though, it was smooth sailing.
While Jet and Ghoul talked to each other and with Grace the entire ride, Party stayed silent. Hopefully, the others just assumed he was focusing on the road and ignoring the heat, but really he was thinking about these so-called 'Young Bloods'. They sounded pretty neat, with the way Dr. D was talking about them on the radio, but that could've just been DJ-speak. While he did feel confident that they couldn't be too bad if it had taken them months to rise through the metaphorical ranks, one never could be too careful. He didn't know what to except of them, and he didn't know what to think just yet. He didn't want to judge too quickly, either.
Party was pretty excited for potential new allies, but he was also nervous for potential new enemies.