Chapter Text
“Are we sure this is the right place?” Jet Star peered out from the passenger seat window; doubt written all over his face. “I mean… Y’know I trust D ‘n all, but this does not look habitable. I find it hard to believe someone lives here.”
“The good Doctor never said the guy lived here, Jet.” Party Poison pointed out, pulling the car round the corner. “Guy makes explosives for fun, ‘s probably just a workshop or something. You don’t want to make it look pretty if you might accidentally blow it up.”
Jet kept staring out the window, muttering something under his breath about not trusting Party Poison’s navigation skills. Letting out a sigh, Poison not-so-carefully parked, earning a shout of complaint from their brother as he hit his head off the roof. Poison chose to ignore him, instead getting out of the car and taking in their surroundings. Jet wasn’t totally off base. I mean, nowhere out in the Zones ever looked particularly welcoming, but that was nothing more than a lack of resources. People did what they could, but the desert wasn’t exactly Party City. There was only so much you could decorate cacti and abandoned buildings.
This place was different, though. The air reeked of motor oil and smoke, and Poison wrinkled their nose in disgust. In front of the three Killjoys, stood a large metal trailer, dented and rusted in places. Most of the windows were boarded over besides one, which had a ratty old pair of curtains pulled over it so they couldn’t see inside. No, this place was unwelcoming by design – whoever was here clearly didn’t entertain guests often.
“This is definitely the place.” Said Kobra quietly from behind them, pointing to a cardboard sign precariously taped above the tin door. It was crudely painted in a bright, obnoxious green – with the unsteady hand of someone who clearly didn’t do much writing. “KABOOM”, was all that it said.
“Well, that’s helpful.” Poison mused, stalling for a second before approaching the door. There were scorched craters scattered across the dirt, clearly explosive sites, and the last thing Poison wanted to do was trip over them. Or get themself blown up. They picked their way across the sand carefully, Kobra and Jet following closely, before knocking on the door.
The trio waited, holding their breath, all of them eager to see who would emerge.
There was no answer.
They exchanged glances, unsure where to go from here. Dr Death Defying had only given them the one set of co-ordinates, they hadn’t exactly banked on the guy not being here.
“Maybe he didn’t hear you?” Jet suggested. “Couldn’t hurt to knock again.”
Kobra Kid nodded in agreement, so Poison knocked again, louder and harder this time. This time there was the clear sound of movement behind the door, but still the door didn’t open. So, they knocked again. No response. Okay. Party Poison prided themself on not being one to leap straight to anger, but they were starting to get pissed off now. Storming around to the one functional window, Poison started to bang on the glass.
“Hey!” They called out. “I know you’re in there, dude. I can hear you moving around.”
“Y’know, Party, maybe we should just come back later.” Jet suggested, putting his hand on Poison’s shoulder, attempting to diffuse the situation. He looked to Kobra Kid for support, but the Kid just stared back, bemused. He was just happy to watch it all play out.
Poison shook Jet off and banged on the window again. “Just open the fuckin’ door! C’mon!”
There was a pause, and then a loud voice came from inside the trailer.
“Fuck off!” It called.
The killjoys just stood there, blinking at each other. Jet, who had previously been all for abandoning the situation, gently shoved Party Poison aside, and leant against the window.
“Hey, man. You’re Fun Ghoul, right? We’re not tryin’ to annoy you or anything. Just looking for a favour.” Jet said, firm but kind, in the way only Jet ever could. His voice was calm and even, the perfect balance to Poison’s chaotic energy, and Kobra’s constant apathetic air.
The voice came again. “I don’t know you – don’t owe ya shit.”
“I get that.” He nodded, even though the stranger couldn’t see him through the curtain. “But we’re here on someone else’s behalf.”
The voice inside the trailer didn’t respond, but he wasn’t shouting anymore, so Jet took that as a cue to continue. “Doctor Death Defying sent us. Said you owed him one.”
Again, there was silence, and Jet was about to speak up again, before the door swung open, and the Fabulous Killjoys came face to face with the occupier.
The guy who emerged from the trailer was small, much smaller than Party Poison had expected him to be from the sound of the voice. He had dark hair, an artificial black mess that fell down to his shoulders, and his hands and neck were covered in tattoos. Poison couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of him was tattooed too. It didn’t feel right to ask, however, as the guy was glowering at them with an intensity that Poison wasn’t quite sure how to handle. It sent a shiver up their spine that they hadn’t felt since the City.
“What does the Doc want?” Fun Ghoul spoke quickly, crossing his arms. “Make ‘t quick.”
“Well, he said--” Party Poison started, but Ghoul cut off him off.
“Not you.”
Poison only blinked in response, their mouth hanging open. The unasked question hung in the air: why not me?
Ghoul clearly didn’t feel like elaborating. Waste of breath, as far as he was concerned. Instead, he nodded his head towards Kobra Kid – the only person who hadn’t spoken to him so far. The Kid raised an eyebrow behind his sunglasses but humoured Fun Ghoul anyway.
“D wants a Drac’s nest blown sky-high.” He spoke. “He told us you were the guy.” After a pause, he added: “Also told us you’ve been ignoring him.”
Ghoul snorted. “Sure have.” He turned around, walking back into his trailer. Kobra took it as a silent invitation to join him inside, and Jet followed suit. Poison was left standing alone in the sand, wondering at what point in the conversation they had been usurped by their little brother.
Inside was small and cramped, and Poison was forced to eat their words. This wasn’t just a workshop. Fun Ghoul definitely lived here. There weren’t exactly typical ‘signs of life’, but then again, there was nothing typical about living in a beaten-up trailer in the desert, making bombs to pass the time. There was a makeshift bed in one corner, a mess of dirty blankets and whatever could pass for a mattress. In the other corner, there was a workstation covered in scraps of metal and wires. An impressive stockpile of canned food was stacked up along the back wall, some with labels that Party Poison hadn’t seen since they were a kid. At the very least, Ghoul ate, slept, and worked there.
Ghoul seemed profoundly uncomfortable at having the trio in his space, but he hadn’t kicked them out yet. Kobra had taken the lead in the discussion, much to Poison’s surprise – their little brother had never been much of a talker. But Ghoul seemed to trust him the most, so Poison didn’t question it. They never knew whether to be intimidated by Kobra’s quiet intensity; his ability to grit his teeth and breeze his way through any situation, or to be proud of him for it. It was useful, sure, and it was crucial to their survival out here – but he was still just a kid. Poison wished he could just be a kid.
Party Poison parked themself on the edge of Ghoul’s workstation, kicking their legs a little and ignoring the glare he shot in their direction. Now that they didn’t get to lead the conversation, they weren’t interested in listening to it. They left Kobra to take care of it, with Jet cutting in on occasion. Poison couldn’t help but feel annoyed that apparently it was only themself that Fun Ghoul didn’t want to talk to. Ghoul himself didn’t seem to talk that much, mostly just nodding and grunting at appropriate intervals. Poison couldn’t help being fascinated by him – they’d never met anyone like him before. They found themself staring, studying his every movement. Indoors, without the sun’s unwavering glare in their eyes, they could see him better. They could see the green tint to his eyes, and the dark circles that outlined them. They could see his tattoos better, but there were too many to take in all at once.
With a curious horror, Poison noticed the thick scar that ran up one side of Ghoul’s face, curling his mouth into a permanent grimace. They couldn’t drag their gaze away from it, a million questions running through their mind. Why? How? Who? Maybe it was just the Battery upbringing, but they’d never seen anything like it. They couldn’t wrap their head around why someone would do that. Ghoul must have felt the eyes boring into the side of his face, because he flicked his eyes around to meet their gaze. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even change his facial expression – Just stared Poison in the eyes, unblinking, daring them to look.
Poison looked away first. They could have sworn they saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes, but that wasn’t worth dwelling on. The sound of a disagreement breaking out dragged their attention back to the conversation at hand. (Well, that and the embarrassment of being caught staring.)
Ghoul was standing with his arms folded, staring at an alarmed looking Jet Star. “What?” He said, nonchalantly. “Not like it’s hard, or anything. ‘M sure you can figure it out.”
“Figure it out?” Jet echoed. “Yeah, sure, we can just ‘figure out’ how to set up and detonate an explosive. Oh yeah, shouldn’t be difficult at all.”
“Well, that’s not my problem.” Ghoul said, his expression unchanging. “Gotta learn ‘t some point, why not start now?”
The other two killjoys appeared to be at a loss for words. Yeah, sure, it was all well and good picking up new skills – but this was a step too far. But Jet and Kobra clearly weren’t in the mood to make enemies today, and Fun Ghoul wasn’t exactly the friendly type. There was only so much they could fight him before they lost a potential ally.
But Party Poison had pissed him off once already. What did they have left to lose?
“Bullshit,” Poison said, hopping down from the table they’d been perched on.
Ghoul swung his head around to look at them, unimpressed. “Thought I told ya not to talk to me.”
“Didn’t ask for your permission, asshole.” They snapped back. “I don’t know where you get off on treating people like shit, but I’m not just gonna stand here and take it.”
There was no response. Fun Ghoul just continued to stare in their direction, face hard and eyes questioning: And what are you going to do about it?
Party Poison put on their best leader face and marched over to where everyone was crowding. They were good at it when they needed to be, the whole ‘cool, brave, stoic leader’ thing – but it wasn’t in their nature. They just hoped that Ghoul wouldn’t be able to tell.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen.” Poison slammed their hands down. “You’re gonna give us enough explosives to launch a Drac’s nest 50 feet into the air. You’re gonna come with us to set them up. We’ve got plenty of room in the car, it’s no sweat for us. You are gonna do the job that Dr D has laid out for you, and then we’re gonna get out of your hair.” They locked eyes with Fun Ghoul, giving him the hardest stare they could manage. “And then hopefully we’ll never have to see you again. Deal?”
The pair stood in silence for a minute, Ghoul mulling over the offer laid out for him. Party Poison felt pretty confident that he’d agree to their terms. Anything to get them to shut up. But Ghoul’s expression wasn’t giving anything away.
Without warning, Ghoul lunged forward and closed the gap between the two, backing Party Poison up against the wall. The shorter man stared up at them, face close enough that Poison could feel him breathing. Over Ghoul’s shoulder, Poison watched as Jet and Kobra reflexively reached for their guns. Poison gave them an almost imperceptible shake of the head. They didn’t want to start a firefight here. Not with someone who was apparently a “good friend” of Dr D. The pair didn’t put their guns away, but they lowered them.
“Counter-proposal.” Fun Ghoul hissed in their face; breath hot against Poison’s cheek. “You don’t fuckin’ tell me what t’do.” Party Poison opened their mouth to spit something back at him, but they were quickly muffled by an inked hand clapped over their mouth. “No. No way. You don’t get t’ come into my fuckin’ house and give me orders. Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway?”
“Actually, no. I know what you are.” He didn’t break eye contact for a second, staring Poison down hard. Ghoul was trying to intimidate them, and they’d be lying if they said it wasn’t working. “You’re just like every other fuckin’ kid that comes out of that city, starry-eyed with a goddamn death wish. You think it’s all a game, don’tcha? You think you own this place. You think you belong here already.”
“Well, newsflash, asshole. I can smell the fuckin’ Battery on you from a mile away.” He raked his eyes up and down Party Poison, his face curling into a grimace. “You’re too clean. Y’have that stupid fuckin’ City accent. And you’ve got no respect for the people who’re just tryin’ to survive out here.”
“Bet you were a good little robot for Mom and Dad, huh?” Ghoul snarled. “Should be good at following orders, then. So let me tell you what’s gonna happen. And then you’re gonna get outta my sight, ‘n I’m never gonna have’ta look at your stupid hair again. Got it?”
Party Poison nodded, as much as they could in their current position. Ghoul dropped his hand from their mouth and stepped away.
“Alright.” He said firmly, turning his attention back to Jet and Kobra. “Here’s the plan. And if anyone tries to fight me on it, you’ll be meeting the Witch earlier than expected. Got it?”
Nobody argued. Party Poison didn’t say a word. They didn’t even move from their spot against the wall. They hadn’t been in the Zones for particularly long, but they had liked to think they’d integrated pretty well. They didn’t appreciate being told otherwise. The last thing they wanted was to be haunted by the city that had fucked them up and turned them into a zombie for most of their life. Maybe it would follow them forever. A big black stamp on their forehead: “PRODUCT OF BETTER LIVING INDUSTRIES”.
Ghoul walked them through the process. He wasn’t going to go with them to set up the explosives, he was clear on that, and he wouldn’t budge. But he at least chucked some scrap paper and a marker pen in Kobra’s direction, having him write down some detailed step-by-step instructions. “I’m not a complete bastard,” He said. “I don’t want’cha to get yourselves blown up. Just do what I say and don’t fuck it up.”
Once he’d had them all repeat back the instructions to him and quizzed them on it until they thought their heads would explode, he promptly kicked them out of his trailer.
“Tell the Doctor I said hey,” Ghoul said, the least stand-offish he’d been for the entire encounter. “Also tell him next time he needs a favour, he can come to me himself. Or at least send Show Pony. He knows I don’t like meeting new ‘joys.”
“No shit.” Poison grumbled, shooting a look to their brother.
“Actually,” Ghoul continued, pointing at Party Poison. “Just tell him not to send you. The other pair of you seem pretty shiny, for a couple a’ Battery rats.”
“I have a fuckin’ name, y’know.” Poison shot back, feeling a twinge of jealousy at being the only one Ghoul disliked. “It’s Party Poison.”
“Good t’ know, Party.” Ghoul said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll be sure to forget that immediately. Can’t imagine I’ll ever need t’ use it.”
And with that, he slammed his trailer door shut and left the trio alone.
“Well, fuck that guy.” Party Poison said, climbing into their car. “’f I ever see him again, it’ll be too fuckin’ soon.”
“I don’t know,” said Kobra, with a shit-eating grin. “I kinda like seeing someone take you down a peg. Nice to meet someone who doesn’t immediately think the sun shines outta your ass.”
“That’s because it does, Kid.” Poison started the engine. “Now shut the hell up and let’s get outta here. Got some Dracs to kill.”