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Chapter Text

"Party-"

"Shhh."

"Oh they can't fuckin' hear us. Dracs didn' develop supernatural hearing, last I checked."

"Wish you'd develop a supernatural ability to stay quiet."

Party ducked away from an elbow flying at his face, sending his best glare in Ghoul's direction. Crouched mere feet away from the horde of Dracs, certainly within earshot despite what Ghoul would have to say, there wasn't much room for error. He checked his gun's charge, as if he hadn't already done that a million times - and maybe he hadn't, whether or not he'd changed the previously dying battery kept slipping his mind - and refocused his gaze on the problem in front of them.

He didn't really know why they were there other than Dr. Death Defying's midnight radio call. He was always vague over the radio waves, though he passed along just enough for Party to understand that there was reports of unusual activity in their little corner of the Zones. Party was sure it had been meant for Jet Star, him being the only one with any real relationship to the DJ, but seeing as Jet had been fast asleep in the other room and Party had been awake to hear it, he decided it was fine that he took it into his own hands.

Well, his hands and Fun Ghoul's, somewhat regrettably. Jet or Kobra would've convinced him to leave it alone, to stay at the Diner, to lay low - if he heard that command out of Jet Star's mouth one more damn time he was sure he was going to explode on him. It wasn't that he couldn't manage a job like this one on his own, he knew exactly how to take out the Dracs, but if Kobra woke up in the morning to find that Party had not only gone out in the middle of the night but gone on his own, it might actually be the day they went to blows. That had left his only option as Fun Ghoul, who, of course, was an enthusiastic 'hell yeah I'm coming'. Party did like that about the kid. Sometimes it felt like it was only him and Ghoul that were really fighting the war, like Ghoul was the only pair of listening ears to his ideas. So the two had hopped in the car, which Party still hardly knew how to drive not that he would ever tell Jet that, and sped off to the border of Zone Three.

There was, in fact, unusual activity. So unusual that Party still hadn't figured out what the hell was going on. There were at least ten Dracs, all of which crowded protectively around a tiny Better Living Outpost. They never went in or out, there wasn't any noise, there were no Exterminators or even SCARECROW in sight, just the Dracs. Party wanted to move in and out quickly, guns smoking and aimed to kill, but there was something just off enough about the whole thing that it made him hesitate. 

Ghoul was clearly getting frustrated with Party's lack of motion, sighing deeply from beside him. He poked Party in the ribs with his elbow.

"I had a real question, bitch."

Party rolled his eyes. "Fine, what?"

"What d'you think's in the building?"

If that question had come from anyone else's mouth, Party would've scolded them for being childish. From Ghoul though? Ghoul understood the strangeness of certain things in the same way Party did. There was a superstition, or maybe a sensitivity, that they both shared. It wasn't so much a question of what was in the building, but what could be so valuable to Better Living all the way out there. He didn't even need to look at Ghoul to tell they were on the same page about this.

"Dunno." He answered in the same, simple but silently understood way. "Nothin' good."

"Nothin' good." Ghoul affirmed, shifting to be shoulder to shoulder with Party.

"We've gotta find out, yeah?" Party clutched his gun to his chest.

Ghoul hadn't even touched his blaster, always more hesitant with the thing for some reason Party couldn't understand, but he quickly nodded and took it from its holster. He held out three fingers, then two, then one. Go time.

Party didn't remember much of what happened next. It always went like that for him, his mind would go blank when he was behind the trigger, but it used to be much worse. After he got sober, a lot of things started clearing up. He remembered things better, he was more present, but this seemed to be the one thing he couldn't shake. Kobra told him it was because of his programming from Battery City, something about how they conditioned him to fight. They needed him detached, they needed him indifferent to who lived and who died. That idea made Party shudder, so he tried his best to hold himself down and eventually he made progress. Now, he saw fights in the form of highlight reels - flashes of sound and color and sometimes fear. He didn't see the Dracs going down, but he saw the blood red seep onto the whites of their uniforms, he heard the thud of bodies hitting the sand. He heard Ghoul's maniacal laugher, taunting their enemies, and then he heard-

"Ah, fuck! Shit! Party!"

He blinked back into his body. The Dracs were all on the ground, dead or dying, and the air had gone quiet and still. He bit back a grimace at the scene - no amount of time in the desert would ever make him used to all the killing that had to be done. And it had to be done, didn't it? Kill or be killed, that was the way the world went around. The war wasn't slowing down, the war didn't show mercy, neither could he. It was times like these, though, that a tiny part of him wished that he'd been given a different life's purpose. That the mysterious figure that haunted him in wake and sleep had said anything except 'You were meant to save the world'. 

A sudden noise, a pained groan, made Party almost snap his neck as he whipped around. Guilt washed over him as he saw Fun Ghoul struggling to stand, blood dripping down his calf. Party rushed to his side, helping him down to the ground. It looked, if Party had to guess, that he'd been hit just under his knee. but with the blood quickly soaking the leg of his pants, he couldn't tell how bad it had really been. He'd need to get under the fabric to do anything about it. He pulled out his knife, but stopped in his tracks as Ghoul visibly tensed.

"Relax, would ya?" Party held up his hands. "I've just gotta cut it off."

Ghoul's eyes went wide. "My leg?"

"Wh- no! Fuck no, your pants!"

Ghoul let out a relieved laugh, tossing his head back. "Your bedside manner is shit."

"I could just let you bleed out, if you'd prefer." Party scowled, beginning to cut the fabric from just above the knee.

As he peeled it away, he felt relief of his own. It was a deep wound, not anything he knew how to treat, but it didn't seem like a direct hit. It wasn't a hole straight through his leg, at least. He could tie it up to stall the bleeding and let Jet Star take care of it when they got back to the Diner. Party took the knife and cut off a strip of his own shirt, tying it tightly around the leg.

"Well, doc?" Ghoul asked through gritted teeth as Party finished the knot.

"It'll be fine 'till we get t' the diner."

Ghoul frowned. "Jet's gonna kill me."

Party stood and wiped his hands on his jeans before extending one to Ghoul. "We'll go down together, I guess."

"Well," Ghoul shot a look back to the outpost, "guess we'd better not go back empty-handed then..."

"You can't be serious."

"For once I am."

Party wanted to get Ghoul back quickly, he wasn't sure how long the fabric from his shitty old t-shirt would hold him over, but the outpost was, admittedly, piquing his interest. He justified it easy enough - maybe they'd have medical supplies or good food. Either one of those things would help Ghoul out as he healed.

Party went first, Ghoul limping slightly behind, and swung the door open. He stuck his gun in first and surveyed the room incase they'd decided to station Dracs inside, but all was quiet. Or, mostly quiet. He heard a slight shift on the ground and looked down, gun still pointed. He locked eyes with something- no, someone, and froze. A child, a little girl. She was a tiny little thing, a mess of sun-kissed curls and ratty too-big clothes practically buried her. She sat alone, criss-crossed in the middle of the otherwise empty room. She didn't make any noise, not even seeming particularly alarmed at the two strange, bloodied boys barging in, just sat there staring at them expectantly.

"What the hell?" Ghoul breathed.

Party nodded, slowly lowering his gun. "What the hell."

There was a long moment where none of them said anything. Nothing filled the air but the wind whistling and whipping against the side of the building.

"You should say something." Ghoul whispered to him. "Ask it a question, I don't know."

"Why me?!"

"'cause I'm shit with kids! And 'cause you have a younger brother, you've got experience."

"I-" Party stopped the sentence in its tracks. What was he even going to say to Ghoul? That he didn't remember anything about his childhood? That he'd never actually been big brother to anyone? That he couldn't think of the last time he'd even seen a kid, much less interacted with one? No, he couldn't say any of that. Kobra was the only one who knew how little he actually remembered, the only one who knew who he'd been in the City, and that couldn't change at a time like this.

He sighed, moving to crouch beside the little girl. Up close he could see the curious, hyper-aware look in her eyes as she studied him. He could see the little freckles that dotted her tanned skin. He could see that she was not from Battery City, which only made him wonder what she was doing in a place like this.

"Uh, hey, kiddo." He tried to shift his voice to something gentle so he wouldn't scare her. "What're you doin' here?"

The girl just continued to stare at him wordlessly. He wondered briefly if she could even talk. How old did kids have to be before they could talk? He thought maybe it was around four or five, but he was also pretty sure he was pulling that number from his ass. She looked to be at least that old, though, and something about the way she looked him over made him believe she could understand him at least a little bit.

"Where are you from?" This got her to open her mouth as if to speak, but she shut it again quickly. At least it was something. He decided he'd keep trying. "Do you have a name?"

Slowly, gingerly, she shook her head. There was a pang of sadness in Party's gut. He knew what it was like to not have a name, to not know where you'd really come from. He thought maybe he did have a name before Party Poison, but that was just one of those things Kobra didn't want to discuss with him.

"It doesn't matter." Kobra had said. "Far as I'm concerned, you're Party Poison and I'm Kobra Kid. No one else has ever existed."

The girl held up her hands, catching Party's attention back. He realised quickly that he had completely missed a pair of silver handcuffs around her wrists. She held it up to him silently, but it was clear on her little face that she was hoping he could take them off. 

"Oh. Oh, okay. Uh, Ghoul? Can you come here?" He tried to hold back the nervousness that creeped up in his tone.

He heard Ghoul limp his way over and settle roughly into the sand beside him. "Oh, fuck."

Party turned just in time to see the absolute horror on Ghoul's face settle into a hard resolve. Ghoul rummaged in his pockets for a second before pulling out a small scrap of metal. He made a swipe for the girl's hands, only to have her pull them back. He paused and Party could see him work up the courage to put a small smile on his face. 

"You want those off, right?" He pointed to the handcuffs and then held up the metal for her to see. "See this? This is gonna help."

The girl re-extended her wrists. Okay, so she could understand them. That made Party feel marginally better. Ghoul worked quickly and carefully, slipping off the handcuffs within minutes. Her hand lingered on his for just a moment after he was done and something indiscernible flashed on his face. He gently placed her hands back in her lap and turned to Party. 

"What now?"

"I don't know." Party answered as honestly as he knew how.

"Where's your family?" Ghoul asked the kid.

This seemed to upset her, the beginnings of tears springing up in her eyes. Party's stomach churned as he realised that he had no idea what to do if she started crying.

"Shit, wait, no don't- damn it, Party?" Ghoul sounded as genuinely afraid as Party was.

"Okay, sweetheart," Party leaned in a little, unsure of what he was supposed to say, "how about you come with us? You can get some rest, we'll keep you safe."

Her bottom lip still trembled but she nodded. Both boys breathed a sigh of relief.

Party walked out of that building completely different than he'd gone in. His gun was tucked away into its holster, his hands occupied with the tiny girl who had motioned for him to pick her up. She was light and easy to carry, but it still felt awkward and completely wrong as he settled her onto his hip. He wondered how this could possibly be compatible with his supposed calling as a hero to the world.

'Party Poison, fearless leader, saviour of the Zones, enemy of the system, with a smoking gun on one hip and a little girl on the other.'

Nope, that didn't quite feel right...

Still, it wasn't like he had any amount of choice. They couldn't just leave her there alone like that, to end up back in the grasps of Better Living. He wondered what Better Living had to do with the kid. Why were they holding her in the desert? Why was she so heavily guarded? He figured there had to be something special about her, whatever that was. Maybe she was connected to a higher-up, or maybe she was being held for ransom. That thought made Party's stomach flip inside out.

"She's asleep." Ghoul whispered a little while into their drive.

Party stole a glance at her through the rearview mirror. She was curled up in her seat, her mouth hanging slightly open as she slept. "What do you think Better wants with her?"

Ghoul shrugged. "You'd prob'ly know better than me."

He didn't, but Ghoul didn't know that. Party just nodded, sparing one more look back at the sleeping child before resetting his eyes on the road back home.

Better to save his voice anyway. They were about to have a lot of explaining to do.

Chapter Text

If Jet Star was a little smarter, he wouldn't have picked this fight. He would have buckled down, cleaned up the mess, and tried his hardest to forget about it. It was, to be fair, his initial plan to choose the high road. He'd kept it together when he'd woken up to a mostly empty diner. Swallowed his anger when Kobra Kid just shrugged his questions off. Hell, even when Party Poison came stumbling in with blood dried under his nails and a fucking kid in his arms all Jet had done was stare at them in shock. Then he'd seen the shape Fun Ghoul was in, half-dazed and pale and limping on his barely bandaged leg. Yeah, when Ghoul walked in the door all the 'peace and love' left his body.

Jet liked Party Poison alright most times. Okay, fine, Jet tried to like him. Wasn't his fault that the redhead made it incredibly hard to do. He didn't have a responsible bone in his body, constantly in his own head and never apologising for whatever came from his actions. He was idealistic and full of this righteous anger that Jet hated, and he would spin all these stories of rebellion and war as if they were supposed to be fun and inspiring. Tales of these fabulous Killjoys who would storm the walls of the city and burn it all down. Well, as far as Jet could see it, Party was a kid fresh from Battery City and he knew absolutely nothing. Jet, though? Jet knew what war was. He had been fighting his whole entire life. There was nothing fun about it and there were no winners in the kind of fights Party was talking about.

Jet had sat back and watched as Ghoul became entirely inspired by Party's words and he'd known, just known, that it was all going to go crashing downward sooner or later. Ghoul didn't need anyone spurring him on to go start more fires, literal or metaphorical. For goodness' sake, Jet was still trying to get him unbanned from Tommy's store after he'd almost burnt the place down a few weeks before. Party didn't seem to mind riling Ghoul up though. No it seemed he was happy, even, since it meant he had another person to go along with his bullshit plans. The latest of these, as far as Jet could tell from Ghoul's half-conscious ramblings, was to leave in the middle of the night to take out a Better Living outpost that had popped up. Despite Jet having to keep Ghoul from bleeding out in the middle of the Diner, Party claimed it was a victory because they'd killed all the Dracs and even saved this kid.

Right, and then there was the damn kid. Party had almost immediately led her right on over to Kobra, who looked like he'd seen a ghost as he hesitantly patted the spot next to him. Throughout the whole rest of the ordeal, she didn't say a word, just sat silently next to Kobra. Jet didn't blame Party or Ghoul for taking her in, not one bit. He actually liked kids, despite what he might tell people. He'd even lived a very brief stint of four days at the orphanage Gravel Gertie ran and he probably would've stayed there and helped her out if he hadn't felt like he was a bad omen, like he was damning them to death by simply being there. Still, a bleary-eyed, shaky, random ass kid watching his every move from the corner didn't help his already shot nerves.

With all the thoughts running around his head, all the angry words he could have spilled or, honestly, punches he could've landed right on Party's jaw, all Jet had done was levelled a concern. A suggestion.

"We should lay low for a while. Don't want no one to get killed."

Well, that was officially the fastest Jet Star had ever known he'd made a grave mistake. The air was sucked out of the room as Party's eyes narrowed, the tension drawing up his shoulders and pulling down the corners of his lips.

"What did you say?" He asked.

It was clearly an offer for Jet to back down. A rotten, knotted up olive branch. That would've been great, except for the fact that Jet Star wasn't budging. No, not this time, not when he knew what was true, what was right, and he was under no obligation to bend his stance for a boy playing rebellion leader. He doubled-down.

"I'm just saying, they'll be on our asses after this."

"There's no one left to be on our asses, Jet." Party made a show of rolling his eyes.

Jet laughed lightly. "Oh, I didn't realise you ghosted every Drac from here to Batt City. Color me impressed!"

Just like that, Party was on the defence. "What the hell was I s'posed to do? Plus, isn't it good we went? They had a kid held captive, who knows what they would've done if we hadn't gotten there!"

"And I agree, I'm glad the kid's safe! I also think you shouldn't make a habit of poking 'round in mom 'n dad's business."

"So we don't fight them? We just let them walk around the desert, takin' kids and shootin' us every chance they get? Should I see if Tommy'll sell us some white flags to raise up?"

"No, that's not-" Jet tried his best to hold his ground, keep his words steady, but Party started back up fierce and relentless.

"I guess I'll just broadcast our location! Ooh, maybe I could get Drac-ed, let 'em have my fuckin' soul too while we're at it!"

"Party Poison-"

"Y'know, Jet, I had it in my head that you were better than this."

"Better than what?" Jet snapped his mouth shut too late. The words were out there, he'd already taken the bait. He could see Kobra Kid grimace in the corner.

Party smiled all sarcastic and full of his signature rage. "I mean, 'Lay Low for a while'? That don't sound like the words of a Killjoy to me." He paused, stalking dramatically closer to Jet. "Sounds like some Neutral bullshit."

Jet shouldn't engage him. He knew he should let it go. Party was looking for a reaction, always was. He would poke and prod and bait until he found a way to make the other person look like they were in the wrong. There was no winning an argument with Party Poison, but he was already in it too deep. Defeat now, or defeat later, and he didn't survive this long by being a pushover. Dig in his heels, grin and bear it - that was all he'd ever known, after all.

"I was a Killjoy 'fore you knew what that was."

If Party was thrown by this, he didn't let on. "Like that means anything."

"It means I have some perspective-"

"No, Jet Star, you've just gone soft. Maybe you're content to sit around and gaze at the stars and sing songs 'round the campfire, but I'm not. I'm not here to lay low and play nice. I'll burn the whole damn desert if it means Better Living goes down too."

"Fuck you, the desert is my home." Jet wasn't sure where the rush of emotion in his voice had come from, but he saw the eyes of everyone in the room widen at his words. He took a steadying breath, trying - failing - to shove down the simmering anger in his chest. It was minutes, maybe seconds away from boiling over. He didn't need that, not with Party as explosive as he was and Kobra who would probably snap Jet's neck if he really let Party have it and an injured Ghoul who would bolt if it all got too much. Oh, and also the fucking kid who was still sitting and shivering against Kobra's side.

"My home," The word was venom on Party's tongue, "was holding cells and hit-lists and popping pills until you're the machine they need you to be. You said it yourself, they won't quiet down and give it a rest, so neither can we. Can't afford to stop fighting, it's time to be loud and proud about it."

Jet had to admit he felt a little bad for Party. He didn't want to, he wanted to be raw and angry like he'd been moments before, but that wasn't the right thing. Like always, he had to buckle down and choose the right thing. Exhaustion was pulling on his bones as he forced his voice into something more pacifying. "Party, all I mean is I know how the patrols work out here, how they'll react to the shit you pulled today. We can't just give up, I'd never say that, but you'll hurt a lot more innocent people than you'll save if you go on like this."

"No other way to go on. Fuckers come to us, we dust 'em, rinse and repeat." There was something bordering sorrow behind Party Poison's eyes.

"Hey, Party." Kobra's quiet voice, rare as it ever came, caught everyone's attention.

It was strange, Jet thought, to see him like this. Kobra was usually a windchill, a pair of calculated, ever-watchful eyes, a distinctly marked boundary line between Party Poison and anyone else in the vicinity. In those few seconds, he was an uncharacteristically gentle arm looped around the girl's shoulders, a warm, safe place where she'd begun to doze off, a questioning glance to his big brother - 'what do I do?'.

Party, having been suddenly taken over by a bigger priority than their argument, walked over to his brother and knelt down to give the girl's shoulder a soft shake. "Bed time?"

She nodded and reached out to put arms around his neck. How Party and Kobra could both go from double-edged knives to easy, sweet caretakers in the time it took to blink left Jet dumbfounded. Jet didn't have a switch like that, his emotions took just as long to cool off as they did to heat up. Even as the brothers walked with the kid into the backroom of the Diner, his muscles were tense and his teeth ground into themselves. He would probably be feeling the argument for hours or days after it ended.

"Jet, sit your ass down, I can see the steam risin' from your ears." Ghoul remarked from the diner booth he was posted up in.

Jet sighed and slumped down across from him. "Sorry."

"He deserved it- we deserved it, I guess." Ghoul smiled sheepishly at him. "You're right about them bein' on our asses."

Jet drug an adrenaline-shaken hand down his face. He knew he was right, of course he was. That didn't explain why he felt like such an asshole about the whole thing. What Party and Ghoul did was reckless and stupid and- and it always was, every time. Jet was scared- no, not scared, petrified that one day he would wake up to an empty diner and it would stay that way. That the sun would rise and he would be alone again. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, being alone never bothered him before.

"So, I don't really know what we do about the kid. Not many options out here." Ghoul said, fingers tapping an absentminded rhythm on the table.

"Could talk t' the ol' Doc." Jet shrugged. "Maybe find her family."

Ghoul frowned. "I, uh, I'm not sure she's got 'em."

"Well, maybe Gerties? Or a different crew? One that's more... stable."

"No." Ghoul's answer came quick. "No other crews."

Jet nodded with a pit forming in his stomach. He could understand Ghoul's hesitations on that one fine enough. As cruel as the City was to kids, sometimes the desert wasn't any kinder. Still, they couldn't possibly think about the kid staying with them. They were hardly even a crew as it stood, fractal and passive aggressive at their best. It was no place for a child, none of them were fit to care for anyone at all.

Party Poison slipped out of the back room, jacket slung over his shoulder. He shot a quick glare in Jet's direction before slinking out the front door. Alright, so that's how that was going to be. Jet should've known that would be the truth. Their argument was far from done and further from settled.

"You've gotta talk to him."

Jet huffed. "He can't be reasoned with."

"I do it."

"Yeah, but you're you."

Ghoul snickered "Good fuckin' observation. Real insightful."

"C'mon, you know what I mean."

"We've all got our things, Jetty. Just put yourself in his shoes or whatever it is they say."

"Thanks for those words of wisdom, Ghoul."

Ghoul beamed, either missing or likely just ignoring Jet's sarcasm. "Yeah, that's what I'm good for. You keep me around for all my sage advice."

"What would I do without you?"

"Die sad and alone probably."

Probably. Jet would never admit that out loud.

Chapter Text

Ghoul slammed his cards down on the table. "Fuck you and your cheating ass!"

"I'm not cheating." Kobra sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why had he agreed to play this game in the first place?

"Yes, you are! How the hell else have you had six aces come up? A deck doesn't even have six aces!"

"A decent deck doesn't." Jet chimed in from another booth. "Those shitty cards you stole from Tommy sure do."

"Pfff, whatever, I'm done with this bullshit." Ghoul pushed the cards over to Kobra and moved booths to sit with Jet.

Kobra rolled his eyes. "Sore fucking loser."

"I know you are, what am I?"

The rain poured down on the roof of the diner, trapping them all inside unless they wanted to be soaked through. They'd had plans for the day, but they had all gone out the window as they watched the clouds roll in. Kobra tried to appreciate it, tried to ignore how antsy it made him feel. There weren't many days like this, where it was quiet and peaceful - or, as peaceful as things ever got. Really, it just meant they weren't at each others' throats. Kobra Kid still didn't know what to think of their new 'allies', certainly found them annoying and hard to handle, but they'd proven trustworthy enough. If they were going to kill him or Party they could've done that ten times over. Kobra had defended them plenty too, slid carbons to Jet across the table, made sure he gave back everything he took. He didn't want to owe them anything, didn't need that over his head.

Kobra still felt like the whole thing was one giant trick some days. He tried to be in every room, to not let Ghoul and Jet slip off to discuss things behind his back. To their credit, they didn't try to hide things from him, but he just liked to be sure. Party had fallen into the group with the same naive ease with which he fell into everything, and Kobra was happy for him, really, but someone had to keep their guard up.

That was why he'd agreed to play the game, he remembered as he packed up the cards into their tattered old box. Party decided he'd take a nap in the back so Ghoul and Jet had been alone in the front room. Kobra had made his way in with the intent to be quietly in his corner, observing, and Ghoul had waved the cards around in his face in the same annoying, pushy way he did everything. 

Party, somehow, liked Ghoul, even talked about him like someone would talk about a friend.

Kobra decidedly did not.

The door to the back opened, but instead of Party Poison it was the girl, still unnamed which made Kobra wildly uncomfortable, who stumbled through. Like a well-built routine, Kobra scooted over just slightly and the girl curled up at his side.

It hadn't been his plan to get so comfortable with the kid, but he couldn't really help it. It was mostly out of duty that he let her stick to his side and ask him a million questions and curl up next to him at night. None of them knew what she'd been through, but clearly she needed someone to comfort her, to be there. Party and Jet were in some silent standoff about their argument the other night, which had both of them wound tight and concerned about other things. Then there was Ghoul who, for all the times he talked everyones ears off and had no concept of personal boundaries, was refusing to get too close to the kid, like he was scared she was gonna explode if he so much as looked her way.

So, like always, it left Kobra to buckle down and figure out what the hell to do. Typical.

It wasn't all so bad. She slowly started talking to them, which was an improvement to the wide-eyed, silent stare they were getting from her before. She was smart and insightful and did most of the talking which meant Kobra could just sit there and nod along. She still didn't talk about wherever she'd come from, but Jet's guess had been that she was connected to some Killjoys on Better Living's hit list.

"She's just got that way about her." He'd said. "Desert born, I can tell."

Well, Kobra didn't know for sure, but he figured Jet was right. She knew the music they put on, she loved color, she didn't shy away from getting loud and obnoxious. Kobra hadn't ever known many little kids, but he especially had never met a kid like this. He wondered if this - the energy, the loudness, the joy - was how it was supposed to be. He tried not to think about it.

"Kobra?" She asked.

He looked down at her, nodding for her to go on.

She was eyeing the box of cards on the table curiously. "What's that?"

"They're cards." He picked them up and handed them to her, watching as she turned them over in her hands. 

"What do they do?"

"You can play games with 'em."

Her little eyes lit up at the mention of 'games' and Kobra internally kicked himself. He knew right then and there that he would be stuck at that table teaching her card games for the next hour at least. He swallowed the tired sigh that threatened to spill from his lips and grabbed the cards back.

"Do you want to learn?"

She nodded quickly, scrambling to sit up. Kobra's mind went blank on what to teach her. He hardly knew how to play himself, much less explain all the rules. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Jet lightly nudge Ghoul. There was an exasperated sigh from the other booth and then Ghoul shuffled back over to sit across from Kobra and the girl. He snatched the cards from Kobra's hands.

"What game?"

Kobra up looked at him. "I thought you were done with this bullshit."

"Done with your bullshit, yeah. I ain't lettin' your cheatin' ass teach her how to play."

Jet snickered, the girl stifled a giggle. Well, at least Kobra wouldn't have to deal with this by himself. Ghoul shuffled the cards around for a minute, ready to deal, then he paused.

"Wait, do you know what any of these mean?" He asked, flipping them around to show her the sides with the numbers. When she only shook her head, he nodded and laid the cards face-up on the table. "We've gotta start there then."

Ghoul was surprisingly patient as he explained the numbers and the symbols. It made Kobra wonder even more what his problem had been the last few days. He'd assumed he just felt awkward, or maybe he was bad with kids, but he wasn't doing half as bad as Kobra had expected. Finally, he pulled out an ace - apparently, one of the six or more that they had - and slid it over to the girl. She picked it up, observing it earnestly.

"This is the highest card, 'kay? Beats all the other ones. 's called an ace."

Something in the girl's face changed as soon as he said the name of the card. Something like recognition, like the look Party would sometimes get when his memories washed back over him. She stopped, her face turning sad and her eyes going glassy. It felt like it all happened so fast. She was fine, and then she had tears threatening to spill, and Kobra didn't know what to do.

"Hey, honey, what's goin' on?" Party's tired voice came from the doorway. He rubbed sleep from his eyes, a concerned frown tugging his lips downward as he looked at the girl.

The girl, in response, didn't say anything, but began to tremble, squeezing her eyes shut like she was trying not to cry. Party was knelt down by her in a split second and Kobra silently thanked whoever was listening that he didn't have to be the one to deal with this. He never dealt well with tears.

Party wrapped gentle arms around the girl, pulling her in until her head rested in the crook of his neck. He shushed her soft cries with whispered, calm words and a thumb drawing circles on her back. He looked up at Kobra with a clear 'What the hell just happened' expression. Just as Kobra was trying to find a way to communicate that he really didn't know, the girl's voice, shaky and muffled against Party's shoulder, answered the room's collective question.

"I miss my mama."

Ghoul almost immediately shot up from the table and silently walked out the front door, pouring rain and all. Jet quietly swore and hurried after him, stumbling to tug his boots and jacket on. Kobra hardly saw any of that, though. What Kobra could see was Party's heart breaking, the way he hugged the girl a little tighter and buried his own face in her curls.

Party was still muttering comforting words, now barely audible. "It's gonna be alright, kiddo. Gonna be okay."

All at once, it was all too much for Kobra, and it wasn't really about the girl and her sudden grief. It wasn't about the other two storming out of the diner. It wasn't about being trapped by the rain with no task or adrenaline to keep him going. The tightening in his chest, the lump in his throat, none of it was about any of that.

It was about this rare side of Party Poison, the way he softened at the edges, he slowed down, he was attentive. Really, it was about the fact that this wasn't Party Poison at all, not that anyone other than Kobra could've made that distinction. This was someone else entirely and Kobra realised, like someone had landed a kick to his gut, that he once knew this person very well.

---

The night sky was the most beautiful thing Asher Welles had ever seen.

Of course, it wasn't the real sky. If Asher were to look out his window, all he would see was the burning lights of the City and the smoggy clouds that hung low over them. No, not the real thing, but the book in his hands was still captivating. Most of the books he was assigned for his 'Historical Science' class were boring, filled with information about how the world used to work, how the bombs changed it, how it was all Better now. Usually, Asher agreed that the world was a nicer place with Better Living in it, but looking at the picture of the sky he was second-guessing that.

The stars danced on the dark, swirling themselves into shapes and patterns that would take someone a million lifetimes to unravel. Asher swore there were pops of color in the afterglow of the little lights, that he could see glimpses of red, of blue, of yellow if he just squinted at it long enough. He wondered if the sky really used to look like that, before the bombs. If someone could simply look up and see all that beauty just above their head.

There was a quiet knock on his door. "What is it, Jack?" He asked without even sparing a glance away from his book.

He heard the light footsteps of his brother across the room, felt him settle in next to him on the bed.

"Oh, I loved that class." Jack commented.

"I hate it."

"You're spending a long time studying for someone who hates it."

"It's Junior year. I have to make good grades if I want to get in the CROW Program." Asher finally looked up at his brother. "Why are you in my room?"

Jack's face fell in that way it always did when he was contemplating a hard answer. He was awful, absolutely horrendous, at keeping his emotions anywhere but right on his face, even if he would deny that to be true. Jack fumbled nervously with his fingers for a moment before sighing and dropping his hands into his lap.

"I got in."

Asher figured that those words would've been positive, maybe even exciting, in any other situation. Maybe they should've been right there too, but all of Jack's nervous energy crept up into Asher's mind, spinning it with all the worst possibilities. It wasn't surprising that he made it into the CROW Program, he was smart, fit, charming when he wanted to be. Jack was also- well, he struggled. He'd been on and off his meds, spiralled his way through high school - honestly, Asher was shocked he actually graduated. 

For Jack to become a SCARECROW? That felt risky, too risky to even be worth it. As a citizen, it didn't matter how many times you spiralled out as long as you didn't do anything rebellious, they would simply change out your medication and call it a day. As a CROW...

"Well?" Jack prodded. "Say something."

"Congratulations." The word felt bone-dry on his tongue.

Jack bit at his lip anxiously. "I know it's- well, you're probably..." He paused. "They're adjusting my meds, gonna make me better this time."

"I'm sure they will." Asher nodded, turning his eyes back to his book.

"No, really, my doses have been all off - you know how it goes."

"Oh, I do."

"Asher, look at me."

Asher turned his head up, eyeing his brother tiredly. Jack held his gaze strong and serious.

"It's going to be alright, kid. Don't worry, okay?"

Asher scoffed. "I'm not worried."

"You are. It's okay."

"No, I'm not. I'm happy for you, congratulations."

"You're an awful liar."

"So are you."

Jack sighed, his shoulders falling along with the resolve on his face. "I just need you to trust me that I'll do everything I can to make this work."

"What if that's not good enough?" Asher instantly wanted to scold himself for how childish the question came out, how whiny and pathetically upset he sounded, but Jack didn't seem to mind. He didn't even miss a beat with his response.

"Well, then, I'll do everything I can and everything I can't, how's that?"

A small, baffled laugh escaped Asher. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"Doesn't have to, I just need you to trust me that I mean it."

The tension in Asher's chest loosened, like Jack had found just the right place to tug on the string and the whole knot of worry had come undone. Asher still felt that something was going to go wrong, it usually did, but in his heart he did trust his brother. Jack would do his best, just like he promised, and if he stumbled then Asher would help him back up.

And maybe that would be good enough after all.

---

"-that your mama's name? Ace?" Party was still speaking soft and low to the girl when Kobra snapped himself out of his own head. Kobra blinked hard, trying to fill in the blanks of the conversation they were having.

The girl nodded. "I jus' miss her."

"I know you do. I-" Party faltered, then reached out a hand and wiped the last stray tears that had fallen down her face. "Hey, d'you wanna hear a story?"

The girl clambered onto Party's knee, waiting expectantly for whatever story he was about to tell. Even she, in the few days she'd known them, knew that Party was an incredible storyteller. The whole diner usually got quiet when he spoke and this time was no exception. He broke into an easy smile and pulled her close.

"Alright, well, here goes nothin'. Once upon a time..."

As the girls cries stilled and Party began to spin a story out of the empty air around them like the wordsmith he was, the old memory kept playing over and over in Kobra's mind, like someone had a remote control and kept hitting the rewind button. That night, in his old room with his old name and that old textbook, was probably the last time he'd ever really talked to his brother. He was around after that, obviously, but between the new meds and, well, everything else that came when the new meds still didn't work, he had never been quite the same. 

There was something hollow about Party Poison. Pieces of him were missing and those holes showed up in everything. In the way he spoke, in the way he acted, in all the things he would never remember again. Even in the way he comforted the girl, the same way he used to comfort Kobra. Did he even remember the reason he could do it so well now? Did he remember that this wasn't the first time he's used that softening tone and somehow found all the right words to ease the aches and the worries? 

That was always the problem, wasn't it? That Kobra's past stuck to him like the sand on his skin, and that Party's did too. That Kobra carried it all for the both of them. That Kobra sometimes, even after all the years removed, still sometimes caught glimpses of Jack when he looked at Party.

But Jack Welles was dead. He had been for a long, long time.

Chapter Text

Ghoul gasped for breath as the rain crashed on him. It was in his eyes, in his lungs, under his feet. He cursed at his injured leg, forcing it to move no matter if it still throbbed and ached and made him unsteady on the sliding, wet sand- Fuck, it felt like the whole damn situation was trying to kill him.

Whatever, nothing new. You need to go. Now. Go go GO- 

"Ghoul! Ghoul, wait up!"

The sound of Jet's voice only pushed him to keep moving faster.

It was only a matter of time before he fucked it all up, he'd known that too. The second they decided they were taking the damn kid he knew he was going to ruin it. He'd tried to stay away, too, with a little hope that maybe distance would stop it, but of course it wouldn't. Things always ended the same for him, he always hurt people and he would not be responsible for hurting that kid.

He could still see the way her face crumpled when he'd set her off. He didn't even know what he did- alright, that didn't matter, this was the never-ending story for him. He went to the market with Jet, he stole and fought and almost burnt the place down. He went on a run with Party, he got shot in the leg. He tried to be nice and make friends with Kobra, teach the kid to read the cards, and even that somehow ended with her crying about her dead mother. And now Jet was running after him and shouting his name and it was impossible over the gushing rain to tell if he was angry- oh, shit, of course he was angry, that was always how it went. They'd been endlessly patient with him through everything, but Ghoul did something wrong again and now he had to run unless he wanted to pay for it.

Always always always. Again and again and again.

The story never changed, not for Ghoul.

Where was he going to go? Where was the road? How long would his leg even carry him? The rain muddled everything until it became nothing. It almost never rained in the desert, but when it did it drowned the damn place.

"Fun Ghoul!" Jet's voice, closer now. Too close. "I know you can hear me!"

Ghoul's lungs burned, his leg ached, the muddied sand kept slipping and he couldn't go on like this. He knew- well, he hoped somewhere deeply down that Jet wasn't going to hurt him, but all of that was buried by his panic like the desert was buried by the rain. He turned sharply on his heel and swung.

Jet, now right behind him, caught his clenched fist with ease, holding him there like it was no big deal. Ghoul tried with his other hand only to have that one caught in the grasp of the bigger boy as well. He writhed, barring his teeth and digging in his nails until he drew out red blood, but Jet didn't even budge.

He was impossible to read as he spoke through the curtain of sopping wet hair that hung in his face. "Motherfucker, what are you doing?"

"Let me go!"

"No!" Jet tightened his grip. "Not until I know you won't try 'n knock me out again!"

Ghoul swallowed back the bile rising in his throat, blinked rainwater out of his eyes. As they stood there he caught Jet's eyes and it struck him all at once that he didn't look angry. Annoyed, sure, it only made sense since he was standing out in the middle of the biggest storm the Zones had seen in years, but not angry. Ghoul couldn't help but let out a laugh at it all and maybe it was nervousness, but maybe it was just the whole picture. The two of them, stuck there, angry at everything and nothing, like a pair of drowned desert rats.

"Done?" Jet asked, irritated.

Ghoul debated what to say. He felt the panic bubble back up at the fact that he knew he couldn't get out of Jet's grasp, but he tried his best to swallow it. He tried to weigh out the situation. Jet was stronger, he wouldn't let go no matter what Ghoul did, and Ghoul's leg was screaming at him to get the weight off of it so he wouldn't be able to run again regardless. He settled on a nod, not wanting to open his mouth and admit full defeat.

With a terrifying ease Jet spun him around and began to walk him back towards the diner, still loosely holding his wrists down at his sides. Jet muttered things, mostly incoherent, as they walked back inside. Ghoul felt the eyes of their other two crew mates on him as he stumbled and sloshed through the door, but he didn't have time to pay them much attention as Jet practically shoved him through to the back room.

Jet threw a ratty old towel at him, hitting him smack in the face, before grabbing one of his own. Ghoul tried to dry himself off, but it was really no use until he would be able to change his clothes. Still, he was grateful to focus on something else other than Jet Star's glare, which was growing furious.

"What the hell?" Was all Jet said to break their silence.

Ghoul tried to come up with some kind of explanation for it, some way to make it all make sense. To reason away why he was so paranoid about hurting the girl, that he'd always broken everything he touched and he saw no reason why she would be any different. Why he couldn't stand to stay, that he always knew he was on borrowed time with Jet, even in their best moments when he let himself be naive enough to think that it would be different this time, that this crew would be any different. 

For all the things he could've said, he didn't get one word out before Jet started up again. 

"Seriously, what the hell was that?" Jet spoke so sharply he might as well have been screaming.

All Ghoul's reasons left the room, and all his real words along with them. "Nothing! Fuck off!"

"No! Tell me what's wrong!"

"I made the kid cry, alright? I just can't- I mean-"

"Did you think I was gonna be mad?" Jet's voice came much softer now.

"What? No! I ain't scared of you!"

"That's not what I asked!" Jet ran a hand through his hair, sending droplets of water onto the dusty floor. "Okay, one minute we're fine and we're talking and I think, 'great, this is it I've finally got his trust', and then all it takes is literally a draw of cards making a kid cry and suddenly the trust is gone and you're trying to jump me because- because, what? Because you think everyone is out to get you? Because some assholes like Phoenix-"

"Don't bring that up!" Ghoul snapped. His heart slammed against his ribcage.

"Okay, fine! Fine! But tell me, what the hell do I have to do to prove myself to you? I told you I'm glad you're here, I patch you up when you go and get yourself fucked up, but- damn it, Ghoul, how long until you trust me when I say I've got your back?"

"But I'm fucking everything up!" Ghoul didn't really want to be so honest, but the words spilled off his tongue before he could stop them. "I- at Tommy's, and getting shot with Poison, and then with the kid, I-"

"I know! I see it, Ghoul! But if I cared about any of that shit I would talk to you about it, alright? I mean, Ghoul, no one's gonna kick you out or nothin'..." He paused and Ghoul could tell that he was really mulling over whatever he was about to say. It came out quiet, but steady. "I mean it when I say shit to you. I'm glad you've stayed this long and I don't want you to go, 'specially not over something like this."

All the fight left Ghoul's body. Jet was good at this, at disarming Ghoul in seconds with all the right words. It would've been terrifying if it was anyone else, but it was only Jet, and that was the truth of it all that ran like rainwater over Ghoul. Jet was good, Jet wasn't going to turn on him, Jet wasn't Phoenix.

"You're wound up so damn tight, man, and over what? The kid?"

The kid, yeah, and a lot of other things. Jet didn't need to know that. "I just don't want to-"

"Fuck it up, I know." Jet rolled his eyes. "Listen, I know this ain't a good place for a kid- none of us are good for that kid. I mean, d'you think I'm all milkshake about leaving Party Poison to talk to her right now?" He said Party's name like he was spitting out a curse. "But it's not about not fucking up, 'cause we will, it's about trying again even when we do."

Right, try again. And again and again and even when the story never changes and you know you're only going to make things worse, scrape yourself up and find it in you to try again. Ghoul sighed. He was tired. He didn't want to try again. One look at Jet's face, though, told him that he wasn't getting out of this without some sort of solution.

"I'm sorry I ran, okay? I won't do it again. Good now?"

"I'm sorry you felt like you had to."

Party Poison walked in the room like a well-timed freight train, having none of the tact to do anything except interrupt their conversation entirely. That was more than okay with Ghoul. Party eyed Jet with some venom, but his words came out surprisingly casual. "Okay, crazy coincidence, but the kid's mom's name is Ace- or was Ace? I couldn't really get that outta her without her crying again."

Jet nodded cordially. "I think we bring it to Doc tomorrow if the weather clears up. If she's still runnin', he'd know."

"She's hopin' you're gonna come play with her, Ghoul." Party said. "Kobra's teachin' her some game he's trying to pass as 'Go Fish', but I think everyone involved would rather you just step in."

Ghoul laughed, though he knew Party had somehow picked up on the air in the room and was really just trying to make him feel better. He did that a lot, picked up things Ghoul wasn't trying to put down. The thought of even speaking to the kid ever again made him nauseous, but that back room was full of two people expectantly waiting for his answer and exactly zero real reasons to say no.

Besides, schooling Kobra's ass in a game did sound a lot better than continuing the little 'Jet Star 'n Fun Ghoul therapy session', so he found himself agreeing, somehow, to try one more time. He changed into the first dry clothes he could find and walked into the front room. 

"No, girlie," Kobra's frustrated voice was coming from the booth, "it's not-"

"But you just said that's the rules!" The kid interrupted.

"No, I said-"

"I don' like this game! Not fair!" 

Ghoul laughed, sliding himself in next to her as if the whole situation didn't make his skin crawl. "I told ya Kobra's a cheater!" He stuck his tongue out at Kobra, earning a giggle from the kid and an unkind hand gesture from Kobra. "Okay, kid, y' wanna learn Go-Fish f'real?"

Party and Jet joined the game, sitting at opposite ends of the table and pointedly never asking each other for cards.

Great, Ghoul thought, the two most stubborn bitches in the Zones just had to start a fight with each other and make it everyone else's problem.

Eventually, the sun started to lower and the diner was cast in shadows. The kid rubbed her eyes, curling up to Kobra just a little tighter. 

"Alright, kiddo, time to say g'night." Party said, standing up.

She tried her hardest to protest her bedtime, immediately sitting up and claiming with wide, playful eyes that she was completely awake, but Party, with a light-hearted roll of his eyes, hoisted her up over his shoulder and carried her triumphantly into the back. Ghoul felt a little jealous of how easy it all came to Party, how he just folded the kid in like he'd known her forever. He wished he could do that- that he could do anything that good, that easy.

Jet stepped out to radio Dr. Death Defying about stopping by the next day, leaving just Kobra and Ghoul in the front room. Kobra finished cleaning up the cards and Ghoul expected him to slink off to a corner and not speak for the rest of the night, but surprisingly he stayed, turning the cards over a few times in his hands. Ghoul weighed the pros and cons of trying to talk to him. He wanted to break the awkward silence, but he also didn't want to scare Kobra off if he didn't feel like chatting. Maybe he could go sit with Jet, but that might just turn into more talking about his problems. There wasn't really a great option.

Ghoul fought a frown as Kobra stood up, but Kobra only moved into the kitchen. Ghoul heard some things shuffling around quietly for a second before Kobra reemerged. In his hands he had a half-full bottle of some kind of brown liquor and two old Power Pup cans they'd been using for cups - 'Power Cups', Ghoul had proposed they call them, Party was not a fan. Kobra slid back in across from Ghoul and wordlessly poured some of the liquid into each can, pushing one across the table to Ghoul.

Ghoul stared at him blankly. Kobra noticed mid-drink and shrugged.

"What? You look like shit, drink up."

Well, Ghoul couldn't argue with that. He had no idea what it was or where Kobra got it, but he resisted the urge to cough it back up as it slid down his throat. It was strong, but the flavour was pretty terrible. Ghoul wouldn't doubt that Tommy Chow-Mein himself had brewed it up, that dickhead was always looking for another way to get carbons in his pocket. Either way, he drank it all without any complaint. Kobra didn't have to share it with him, after all.

"Thanks, 't was good." He said, setting the cup down.

"Oh it's awful." Kobra laughed dryly. "Really, it's so bad."

Ghoul found himself laughing too. "Hey, man I didn't say nothin'."

"Does the trick though." Kobra spoke a bit too seriously, but then he poured a little more out for each of them and in exchange Ghoul decided he wouldn't pry about it. He could leave the psychological evaluations to Jet Star.

Though, Ghoul was starting to think maybe the guy was onto something with the whole 'Try again' idea. Playing games with the kid had been alright, meaning there was no more crying at least, and sitting there sharing disgusting, Zone-brewed liquor in almost complete silence, was the closest Ghoul had ever gotten to friendship with The Kobra Kid. It was probably the closest he'd ever get.

Maybe it was okay to try again, he'd always been too quick to give up on things. Maybe it could really be different this time, maybe he wouldn't mess things up by sticking around.

Maybe.

Chapter Text

Party Poison liked the Radio Shack a lot. From the first time he stepped foot in it the place felt like home, with the colourful walls of records and tapes that Dr. Death Defying let him pick through and ask questions about. It fascinated him. His only memories of music were, well, as vague as the rest of 'em, but he remembered how it was all programmed. Carefully filtered to be 'safe' - censorship was what Ghoul had called it. At the Radio Shack, music was loud, gritty, colourful, and the DJ had no shortage of things to say about every song he played. Music was history and culture. To Party, music was rebellion and he loved it.

Along with all the months he'd known everyone came easy familiarity, so it was a surprise to no one when he didn't even knock when swinging the door open and stepping in. 

"Ah, look what the desert dragged in. No one teach y' that knocking's polite, Party?" Dr. Death didn't even look up from the record he was taking out.

Party laughed. "We don't do polite, old man."

"Mhm, clearly." He gently let the record needle down and slowly crackling, soft guitar filled the room. Party knew he'd heard this before, couldn't put his finger on it though. He didn't dwell too long as the DJ finally looked up at them, a faux annoyance on his face, betrayed only by the twitch of a smile.

"And y've got a little motorbaby, I'm told?"

Party nodded, turning around to the rest of the group. The girl in question was standing sheepishly behind Kobra and Ghoul as she eyed the room with equal parts wonder and worry. She was observant like that, and so full of this, well, he didn't really know what to call it. Joy? That didn't quite cut it. It was like energy, like the whole room got brighter when she laughed or smiled. Party didn't really know what to make of little kids, but he was sure every time he looked in her eyes that there was something very special about her. 

He knelt down, catching her eye away from everything else. "C'mere, kiddo." She stepped out from behind the others and looked at him with an amount of trust that made his heart skip a beat. It was like she was waiting on him for reassurance, for an answer. "We want you to meet a friend of ours, remember? You don't have to be shy." He grabbed her hand and stood to turn back to Dr. Death Defying. 

To his utter surprise, the DJ was teary-eyed as he laid eyes on the girl. He looked up, locking eyes with Jet Star. "What'd y' say her mama's name was, Star?"

Jet looked as confused at Dr. Death's sudden emotion as Party felt. "Ace, didn' get any second name but-"

"Atomic Ace." Dr. Death cut in, his gaze cutting back to the girl. "She's got her mama's eyes."

"Wait, you know her?" Ghoul sounded hopeful, or maybe relieved. "You've gotta call her."

"Knew her." Dr. Death grimaced.

Party felt like he'd been hit in the gut, all the air yanked from his lungs in a split second. From the silence that hung over the room, he figured everyone was feeling the same way. The girl, as perceptive as she usually was, seemed unfazed. Dr. Death's comment had been vague enough it hadn't upset her. Party was selfishly glad he didn't have to deal with more tears right at that moment.

Dr. Death cleared his throat and turned to rummage around in a drawer. When he was done he held some blank papers and some old, half-melted crayons. He held them out to the girl. "Well, 'm sure you're bored outta your mind with this lot. How'd ya like t' draw me somethin'? Anythin' you'd like."

The girl's whole face lit up, but she paused, looked up at Party expectantly. Was she asking him permission, or something? Party wanted to laugh at that idea, he still barely even knew this kid, as far as he was concerned she could do whatever she liked. Well, so long as it wasn't dangerous, or scary. Still, she waited for him to give an unsure, awkward nod before she bounded off to grab the supplies. 

Dr. Death sat her down on the far end of the room, reasoning that there was a small, circular carpet that 'would be much more comfortable than the floor at the front, much better for little artists to sit on' before he returned to the group. He huddled them in close, speaking low and gravely.

"There's somethin' you boys oughta know..." He began. He spared one look back at the girl to make sure she was fully engrossed in her task before he continued. "Now, I ain't superstitious, but I've got it on good authority that there's somethin' real special 'bout that little girl."

"I knew it." Ghoul muttered, making everyone turn to him in surprise. He put his hands up in mock surrender. "No, I mean, I just guessed y'know? When we rescued her from the pigs, I guessed she's gotta be connected to people up top-"

"It ain't that. It's somethin' more of a prophecy, really, from the Witch 'erself. A trapped soul, a little girl, an A-bomb that's gonna save us all. That's her, she'll be the one to save us - 's a damn shame our enemies seem t' know that too."

Jet sighed. It was the same kind of tired, irritated noise that he usually reserved for Ghoul's antics. "Doc, please, we just need some real answers."

"And I'm givin' 'em to you. Just 'cause you're a cynic don't mean we all have to be." He clapped Ghoul on the shoulder, a playful smile on his lips. "Some of us are believers even still, Jet Star."

Kobra shot Party a questioning glance. All Party could do was shrug and feel silently glad that, for once, he wasn't the only one missing context and completely lost. He hated the thought of siding with Jet Star on anything, but the DJ's ramblings sounded like nonsense to him.

"I'll bite. Who the hell is the Witch?" Kobra asked, a skeptical eyebrow raised.

Dr. Death laughed. "Right, city kids- y'know, I forget that 'bout you two every now and then. The Phoenix Witch 's a spirit, a guardian."

"Allegedly." Jet tacked on.

"Allegedly my ass. I've seen her." Ghoul crossed his arms.

Party's mind drifted back to his conversations with the mysterious figure that pulled him out of his addiction. The one who spoke the most chilling words he'd ever heard, the sentence that lingered in the back of every decision he made.

"Party Poison, you were meant to save the world."

Those were some of his clearest memories, even compared to ones he'd made after getting clean, after joining the crew. He could still hear her all-encompassing voice, feel the way the air shifted as she moved. He kept the two feathers she'd left behind in his pocket. A reminder, incase he ever forgot. He didn't forget, though he'd never managed to feel more clear on it all. He hadn't even put a name to the voice that haunted his mind until, maybe, right then.

"I think..." He tried not to choke on his own words, unsure if he should even say anything. "I think I've seen her too."

Now Kobra was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. "What? When?"

"Back when it was just us. She, uh, she looks kinda like a bird?"

Ghoul grinned. "Sure does."

If Jet Star wasn't irritated by the mention of the Witch before, he definitely was now, the scowl on his face clear as day. They hadn't even spoken properly since their last fight and Party knew he'd just struck yet another nerve.

"We need a game plan, Doc." Jet said, refusing to even look over at Party. "Gertie's?"

Dr. Death nodded. "I called 'fore you came. She's got a bed, could get her there before the sun goes down t'night."

"No, if she's really- well, if that prophecy's real, it's dangerous to put her there." Ghoul argued.

"What's our other option?" Kobra asked.

Party thought about it all for a second, trying to reason out the words that were already locked and loaded on his tongue. The Witch's words to him, Dr. Death claiming she would be the one to save them, the way he felt so connected to her and the way the thought of sending her somewhere else- anywhere else made him nauseous. He hadn't been able to reconcile it all before, how he was supposed to fight, to save the world and somehow look after some random kid, but it all hit him like a bolt of lightening and he was so sure that this was what the Witch had meant all those months ago. He wasn't a saviour at all, couldn't hardly keep himself alive, much less the world, but her? His eyes drifted to the little girl colouring in the corner, blissfully unaware, and he was more sure than he ever had been that she was the key. He knew it in his soul, however much of one he still had left.

"She stays with us." He said it with enough conviction that even Jet finally turned to him.

The confusion on everyone's face was clear, but Party didn't care. He was sure.

A seriousness, maybe an understanding, levelled on Dr. Death's face. "You understand what that would mean for you all?"

"I do."

"Party," Kobra's eyes were pleading when they met his, "what are you talking about? Better Living's after her. We're only putting targets right on our heads by keeping her with us."

Ghoul scoffed. "Like we're not being hunted already."

"It's what's right. I know, the Witch told me-"

"Right, The Witch, who you didn't even have a name for until three minutes ago? Now you're suddenly a believer?" Kobra frowned.

"I believe someone's gotta save the world."

"She's a child! I know everything's a mess and I know this feels like hope, but we have to let her be a kid, Party."

"Exactly!" Party bit back the urge to raise his voice. They didn't need the girl overhearing any of this. "We're not gonna keep her around to drag her into the war or pick her apart, I'm saying we keep her safe from everyone else who wants to do that to her."

Party waited for Kobra to protest again, but it wasn't Kobra that got the next word in. It was Jet, who had gone completely, solemnly quiet at Party's words. He spoke barely above a whisper, but it was enough to change the air in the room.

"I agree with Party."

Of all things, that had not been what Party was expecting. After all their disagreements and their days of cold-shouldered silence and avoiding each other, Jet Star was actually openly agreeing with him. He tried not to feel too proud that he'd officially won the argument, but it did feel good. He shot Jet an easy smile, hardly getting one in return.

"Yeah, so do I." Ghoul nodded. "I think we can keep her as safe as she'll be. 'sides, Kobra, she's been your lil' buddy for days now. You really wanna say goodbye?"

Just as Kobra was about to answer, the topic of their conversation bounced back into the circle, shoving a paper excitedly in Dr. Death's lap. The DJ picked it up and smiled sentimentally at it before turning it to the whole group.

The picture was a drawing of all four of them with the girl, standing in a vaguely confusing desert scene - half the cactuses were taller than Ghoul, Party decided he'd be bringing that back up later - but all together, smiling and happy.

"Shit, how can I say no to that?" Kobra mumbled, a small smile on his face.

"Seem's settled then?" Dr. Death asked.

Party turned his eyes to the girl. "How'd you like to stay with us from now on?"

 "For forEVER?" She lit up like a lightbulb.

Even Jet was smiling now as he nodded. "As long as the sun stays shinin'."

Party figured that was one of those desert-born expressions he'd never heard before. It didn't really make much sense to him, the sun stopped shining every night, but the girl seemed to understand it just fine because she grinned excitedly before sprinting back over to her art supplies to keep drawing.

---

That night, Party couldn't stop thinking of what Jet had said and what it really meant. The sun was gone and so was its light and warmth, replaced by a thick chill and darkness so deep he had to strain to see. As he tried not to shiver, sitting outside against the wall of the diner, he wondered if that was the point. To say you'd stick around until the going got too rough, until all the good, the warmth faded out. That you'd know when to call it quits. 

He felt the air shift and he could tell someone else was out there with him. He didn't even have to look back to know that it was Jet Star - no one else in the diner had such a quiet tread. He waited for Jet to say anything, but the silence drew out long and heavy and he realised Jet didn't know he'd been noticed yet. Party hadn't even moved, Jet probably thought his presence was a secret.

Party patted the spot in the dirt next to him. "I don't bite, Jet."

Slowly, awkwardly, Jet Star made his way over and sat down. In the darkness it was hard to make out the look on his face, but he didn't seem as angry as he'd been the past few days. Party's anger had cooled too, though not so much that he could promise he wouldn't blow up again if Jet decided to turn this into some sort of lecture.

Party did like Jet most of the time. He was generous letting them stay and he always had everyone's back when it came down to it, but he was impossible for Party to figure out. Jet was brutal in a fight, his genuine smiles were few and his words were fewer - he was like Kobra in that - but then there was a rarer side of him that was kind and, Party thought, younger. Party didn't know how old anyone was out there, he didn't even know how old he really was anymore, but Jet always moved like someone older, like someone who had seen too much. Sometimes, though, the facade would crack and Party could see that Jet was no more than a boy, one who couldn't be much older than him. It came out when he was treating a bad wound, when he turned up his music in the car, and right in that moment, sitting with Party in the middle of the night. Something relaxed and it seemed like he might not actually knock Party's lights out if he stepped up to him.

Maybe that's what made Party bold enough to talk.

"'As long as the sun stays shining'."

Jet Star's brows furrowed as he turned to Party. "What?"

"What you said earlier. What's it mean?"

"It means what it says." Jet's tone was flat. "What else would it mean?"

Party gestured to their surroundings, bathed in shadows. "The sun stops shining every night. And when it rains. So what then?"

Jet shook his head with a barely-there laugh. "City kids, man... Yeah, the sun goes down, but it always comes back, don't it?"

Well, that was an angle Party hadn't considered. "I guess so."

"It's just another way of saying always, or 'forEVER'." He mocked the girl's tone from earlier that day. "Nothin' more to it." He paused, twisting his beaded bracelets around mindfully. "Things got too tense the other night."

Party nodded. It clearly wasn't an apology but he couldn't blame Jet for that, he wasn't about to offer one up either. He didn't really know how else to respond, there wasn't much to say except to agree. Maybe they could move on, settle the tension for the time being.

Jet didn't seem to want to move on. "I mean- you know I'm with you, right? Live and die by the cause, or whatever, I just... Revolution's more 'n just smokin' guns. We won't win by just takin' more bodies, there's more to it."

It felt like self-righteous babbling, always did with Jet. Party could feel his anger, low and simmering, somewhere deep in his stomach. He tried his best to swallow it. "Well, that's awful nice, Jet, but the other side doesn't see it like that."

"That's what makes us different. Better."

"We can't just drop our guns in the sand 'n forget it, if that's what you're really saying." 

"No that's not -" Jet sighed deeply. "Alright, Party Poison, what are you fighting for?"

Party failed to bite back a bitter laugh. "To put Better fuckin' Living six feet under. What else?"

Jet gave him a vaguely disappointed look, as if he'd missed something in the question. "I'm fighting for a lot of things. For people I've lost, for the people comin' after me, for art and music and freedom, for more people to be able to just sit around and gaze at the stars." He paused, fiddling with his bracelets again, head down. "I'm so tired, Party. Honest, I am. I know I can't give up, but I've been out here, been fightin' my whole life and I need there to be something- anything except all the death, y'know?"

Jet's words hung heavy in the air, threatening to choke him out. There wasn't much he and Jet had in common, but he definitely knew how it felt to grasp onto seemingly nonexistent hope, to have it slip from his fingers like a fistful of sand. 

"I don't believe in much these days, but I do believe there's good left in the world." A small, sad laugh shook Jet's shoulders. "I feel like I eat those words every day, but I'll be damned if I stop believing them. 'specially now that we've got the girl. I mean, if we die tomorrow and we don't win the war, what are we leaving her with? Did we show her how to find the good or just how to put a bullet in the bad?" He looked up at the sky and the stars reflected in his glassy eyes. "Would she know the sun's always gonna rise again in the morning?"

Party's stomach turned and he knew Jet was right. He rested his chin on his knees, breathing out a sigh.

"Y'know, The Witch told me I was s'posed to save the world. So, I've been trying to figure out all this time what she meant and I think it's got somethin' to do with the kid. Like I'm s'posed to keep her safe." Party paused, stealing a look at Jet's face, which was all but blank. "I know you don't believe in her, but I just figured-"

"Never said I didn't believe, I just ask questions 'fore I believe every person who says they've met her." Jet met Party's eyes. "That's why you do all the shit you do? 'Cause you're tryin' to save the world?"

"Someone has to."

"Yeah, someone does."

Jet stood up and dusted himself off before offering a hand to Party. He took the silent gesture, an olive branch. Maybe it wasn't an agreement, but it was an understanding, enough to ease some of the tension off both their shoulders.

"Can't save the world if you get ghosted pickin' every fight, but maybe you're right that we've gotta pick some of 'em." Jet shot Party what was probably the most genuine smile he'd ever been given. "For what it's worth, I think the Witch was onto somethin'. I'll fight with you, as long as the sun keeps shinin', I hope you know that."

Chapter Text

Jet's hand had long gone numb, every attempt at flexing or moving it sending little crackles of static up his arm. He'd tried to readjust, but every time he shifted on the old, mostly-flat mattress the little girl sleeping on his arm stirred, so he resigned himself to losing access to his hand and keeping still.

A lot had changed in the months they'd had the Girl, both good and bad, but the one thing that was sure was that they all loved having her around. She was somehow a natural fit into their ragtag group and she, Jet thought, brought out the best in each of them.

She loved Party Poison, followed him around everywhere, not that he ever complained. She helped him come up with stories, listened intently as he told her about the world, the war, the hope for the future. He relaxed, softened. She slowed down the fires of the rebellion he was bent on leading, made him more methodical, like he was finally fighting for something.

She would color and create with Fun Ghoul, drawing him a few tattoos he'd since inked permanently into his skin, making masterpieces that, of course, were hung up around the diner with pride, even helped them spruce up the Trans-AM with some spray-paint. It took him a while to warm up, but once he did the two were inseparable. Jet sometimes felt like he had two children to look after when they would get going, but he wouldn't trade their joy for the whole world.

What Kobra Kid did to get close to the Girl, Jet didn't know, but he was always the first she'd run to when things went wrong. With a scrape on her knee, with questions about the world, any of it would go straight to Kobra. In return, Kobra finally opened up, just a little bit. At least, he finally stopped looming in the corners, trying to interrogate them or pay them as if there was some unspoken, unsettled debt. Jet didn't know if he could consider Kobra a friend, exactly, but he was getting marginally closer. It definitely wasn't nothing.

And then there was Jet. Jet Star couldn't picture a world without the Girl in it. He taught her everything he knew, everything she'd need. He was the one who taught her to shoot a gun, despite Kobra and Party's protests that 'she was just a kid' - Jet knew better than anyone that the world didn't care if she was six or sixty, she would need to defend herself. He showed her the way he learned to navigate by the sun, how he found all the pictures the stars would draw in the nighttime sky, how he bargained with Tommy Chow-Mein. 

Still, he tried not to get too attached. They hadn't even given her an official name, though they'd all taken up various nicknames for the kid. Kobra had tried to get the group on board with a name, but Jet and Ghoul both didn't feel like it was right. When she got old enough she could choose her Killjoy name, but her first name, a given name, was something reserved for only family to decide. Maybe they were becoming family to her, but maybe that was just Jet's wishful thinking. This Girl had family, had a mother, and who were they to step in and try to give her a name? Who were they to assign her a title? 

It was probably safer for her to not have an official title, anyway. Better Living was on high alert looking for her and a name would only give them more information with which to keep tabs on her. Somehow, maybe the security cameras or maybe by word of mouth, Better Living figured out that they had the Girl and almost overnight there were wanted posters with their names and faces plastered all over the Zones. The air was different, everything they did or said had a cost now. Jet tried not to feel anxious about it, but helplessly he felt like they were living on very limited time.

If what Party had wanted was a full-on war, he was getting it.

"Jet." Someone whispered frantically. Kobra, Jet realised as he lifted his head. 

"Yeah?"

"Mom and dad are comin' home." Kobra's face was pale. "Dr. D just shot us a warning on the station."

Jet clumsily shuffled the Girl off him, shushing her quickly back into sleep as he followed Kobra out of the room. In the front, Party and Ghoul were loading their guns and tugging on their masks wordlessly. Jet tried not to panic, he'd fought countless Dracs and even CROW in his lifetime, but it was just like he said: the air was different.

"How close?" He asked, grabbing his own blaster.

Ghoul's seriousness was sobering. "Had two minutes two minutes ago, Jetty."

"Shit."

"What's goin' on?" The Girl lazily strolled out of the back room.

Party's eyes lit up the second he saw her. "Girlie, you get in the back and you don't come out. Not 'till I tell you."

Her little face twisted into frustration, arms crossing indignantly across her chest. "I wanna come! Jet's been teachin' me guns, I can help!"

"Not this time, baby." Jet ruffed her hair. A low rumbling outside made his heart drop into his stomach, they were within earshot. 

"In the back." Party spoke sternly. "Now."

She stomped back into the room. Jet fleetingly thought about whether or not she'd heed Party's order to stay put, but he didn't have any time to do anything except hope she would. The four of them stepped out of the diner as a united front, just in time to see the patrol rolling up.

Jet counted twenty-four Dracs. If he was alone, he would've just laid down and died right there, but with what he considered the two greatest shots and the best explosive-maker in the Zones by his side, he felt pretty confident in their chances. This was why he was so confused by the look of horror on Ghoul's face.

That was until he saw the Exterminator.

Jet had never seen an Exterminator, especially not so far out in the Zones, but he hadn't expected them to look so... normal. The man stood tall, but not nearly as broad as Jet, with plain gray clothes and a bald head, which Jet figured with a twisting in his stomach was to make the man look even less individual. Exterminators were completely uniform, from their clothes to their hair to the waxy, stoic looks on their faces. Jet knew there was only one reason Better Living would send one straight to their doorstep, and he prayed to whoever might be listening that she stayed silent and hidden in the back room. The Exterminator sneered at the whole lot of them, but Jet swore he saw an extra bit of venom as the man's eyes crossed over Ghoul. For a moment, he thought he imagined it, but then the man circled back to look at Ghoul, to study him.

"Jensen," The Exterminator's voice was shrill and cutting, like the edge of a knife, "you should have stayed dead."

"Who the fuck is Jensen?" Kobra muttered in Ghoul's direction.

Yeah, who the fuck is Jensen?

Jensen. Jet knew that name, he swore he did. He remembered it in grey stitches, bloodstained fabric torn up by his own knife, never to be uttered again. Not until the Exterminator decided to dredge it back up. He'd always silently wondered about that name, but he'd never found it in him to ask Ghoul about it. As the Exterminator spoke, he found himself wishing that he had, that it wasn't being exposed so ruthlessly to all of them.

"You Killjoys have something of ours. Give it back and we will do you no harm." The Exterminator talked like he was on a script, and maybe he was, Jet didn't know how Better Living did things.

Party Poison scoffed. "Please, we both know I'd never take anything from you."

"Ah, Party Poison, isn't it? Is this really what's become of you, Ja-"

"Fuck off!" Kobra blurted, louder than Jet had ever heard him speak. He held up his gun without the slightest sign of hesitation. "Get the hell off our property."

"Not while you still have our property." The Exterminator said through a porcelain smile.

Jet couldn't hold in his disgust at the Girl being referred to like some thing. No one owned her, especially not Better Living. She was a child, a living, breathing human being, and one that Jet silently swore on his own life that he would protect. He could feel the pressure of her being mere feet away from the pigs, he was the only thing standing in between them and her, the only wall of protection she had.

Without warning, he raised his gun and fired. The rest of his crew followed suit and there were lasers flying from both sides. Jet didn't miss how the Exterminator fell back into the cover of his Drac army as soon as the battle began. He had talked a big game, gotten in their heads, but as soon as they gave him a little bite with the bark he ducked to safety. Coward.

Jet felt like he was moving on autopilot, like he'd been set to a mission and his body was moving on muscle memory. Protect the Girl, cover your friends, shoot the Drac right in the chest.

"Jet!!" Party's voice broke as he screamed.

Jet hardly had time to turn before someone was tackling him to the ground. He thrashed, trying to figure out where his gun was, where the other weapon was, who had caught him so off guard. A blast rang out close, too close to his head, but he caught a flash of cherry red in his peripheral and began to register than it was Party that had shoved him over. Party yanked himself and Jet up off the ground.

"Fucker, it almost got you." He breathed, not missing a beat before turning back to the fight. 

Jet looked down to see a Drac just inches from him, chest still smoking from where Party had shot it. He would've been a goner if Party hadn't seen. He sharpened his eyes and kept shooting.

Kobra moved to be back to back with him, something he never would have done months ago, not that Jet had the time to process that now, and shouted back to him over the noise. "Too many!"

Kobra was right, even with the ones they'd taken out they were still looking at thirteen Dracs left to go and they were running out of steam. Ghoul was dodging blasts, angrily fiddling with his gun as if it wasn't working. Party was trying to take on two Dracs at once and Jet watched in horror as his gun was knocked from his hand and he was forced to take them on in hand to hand combat- or, hand to 'keep their guns away from my head' combat. 

A terrible, empty familiarity washed over Jet Star, no matter how hard he tried to hold it back. This was it. This was the way it always ended, with a fight they couldn't handle, with several deadly blows, with Jet somehow left the only one standing, forced to crawl his way out of the wreckage and start over. As Jet whipped around, planting just another shot in just another Drac, he vaguely heard the movement of the beads around his wrist. This was it. He'd have to add some more and be done with it. Was it wrong to mourn in the middle of a fight? Even when he knew exactly how it was going to go?

Suddenly something warm, something burning flooded Jet's senses. Shattered glass, shouts of pain, the crackle of fire licking up the sand. A crowd of Dracs that had been swarming Party Poison were up in flames, as if someone had set off a bomb. Fun Ghoul. Jet spotted Ghoul a few feet away, having taken to hitting the Dracs over the head with his seemingly broken or jammed gun. No, it couldn't have been Ghoul, he was too tied up. Where would he have found the time to- 

A rough hand yanked Jet's arm, sending him stumbling backwards towards the diner.

Kobra Kid stepped up in front of him, taking out the last of the squad of Dracs. Jet managed, through all the chaos, to spot the Exterminator slide into the drivers seat of the Better Living van and he aimed for him, for the van, for anything, but the Exterminator sped off, sending trails of dust into the burning air. 

Right, the burning. Why did the Dracs go up in flames? Jet heard the small shuffle of feet on sand behind him and turned around, braced for another fight, only to be looking down at the scared but defiant face of the Girl. His breath hitched in his throat.

"When- kid, when did you-"

"I told you I can help!" She pointed towards the fire.

Ghoul made his way over to the two of them, blood on his hands, face turning a sickly shade of green. "We told you t' stay inside!"

"I blew 'em up! Like you said!"

Jet looked to Ghoul for some kind of clarity. Ghoul groaned, running a dirty hand through his hair.

"I showed 'er how t' make a Molotov cocktail." At Jet's widening eyes Ghoul continued frantically, "Only once though! I don't even know how she remembered!"

"You showed a kid how to make an explosive?" Jet felt horrified.

"No different than you showin' her how to shoot!"

The Girl tugged on Jet's sleeve, beckoning his attention back. "They were hurting Party."

She didn't say it as an apology or even as a reason. The words came out like they were a given fact, like they were a magic bandaid that would cover the gaping wound of wrongs in this situation, like she had some assigned duty to protect them. She didn't, she was only a child. Jet couldn't find it in himself to say it to her though, not when he knew he'd once felt very much the same.

"Let the adults handle it." A stern voice, a warm rag cleaning a wound on his leg, a gentle hand brushing his cheek. "Best you don't burn out too quick, little Star."

Jet swallowed the memory, placing a hand on the Girl's head. "You did good, kiddo."

"Jet!" Kobra called. He was walking back towards them with Party, who had a hand cradled close to his chest. "We got anything for burns?"

Shit. Jet shot a look to Ghoul that he hoped said 'This is why we shouldn't teach kids about explosives and leave all the supplies within reach', and then nodded to Kobra, beckoning them back inside. Jet rummaged through their makeshift med-kit and pulled out the last of the burn cream. He didn't know if it would be enough, but it was better than leaving Party with nothing. 

Party's hand didn't look too bad once Jet actually got close to it. It seemed like he'd just pulled away a second too late, it was manageable. Jet slathered on the cream and then loosely bandaged the hand. Party sat silent and spaced out, though Jet could practically feel the electricity buzzing off his skin. He always got this way after a clap, all-fire in his veins and static in his head. Jet had seen it in Killjoys before, a shock of some sort, something that settled in quiet and icy, but it seemed like a constant for Party Poison. Usually he would thaw out by the time Jet was done patching him up and go back to his usual, loud, abrasive form.

Sure enough, like clockwork, Party snapped back into the room as Jet rolled the last of the gauze around his hand. He turned towards Ghoul, a playful half-smile on his face. "Why the hell would you teach the Girl t' build a bomb?"

Ghoul shrugged. He was wrapped up in the task of taking apart his blaster and mulling through each piece, Jet guessed to figure out what had gone wrong with it. "Dunno, but 's damn good I did! You weren't doin' so shiny fightin' 'em off with your bare hands, were you?"

"Oh, 'cause you brainin' 'em with your defective gun was any better."

"Got the fuckin' job done, 's all that matters."

"Both of you shut up." Jet sighed as he put away the med-kit. "Fight's over, that's it."

"And we won!" The Girl exclaimed. This finally got Ghoul to look up from his puzzle-piece blaster. He gave her a bright grin and a high-five.

Jet wondered what normal kids got high-fives for. Maybe good grades? A cool art project? Learning their manners?

Not their Girl. No, she didn't do 'normal kid' stuff too well, but she sure had a knack for cool graffiti and well-timed explosives. Jet wouldn't have it any other way.

"We can't stay here." Kobra said suddenly, quietly. He was on the far end of the room, watching out the windows. "They know where we are, we're sitting ducks."

"What's a duck?" The Girl and Ghoul asked the question almost in unison.

Kobra looked annoyed, or disgusted- maybe it was just surprise? Jet could never tell. Either way, he silently fumbled over his response for a minute before landing on something. "It's just an animal. Pre-Helium."

"And they sit around waiting to be shot?" Ghoul asked, eyes wide as the sky.

Party, with his good hand, playfully smacked Ghoul upside the head. "It's an expression, dummy. Like you desert-borns don't have plenty'a your own!"

Jet let the laughter bathe him for a moment, warm his bones, wrap him up in the feeling that things were good, that everything was alright. But once it faded, like a matchstick burning out, the whole room sat in the chill of what Kobra had really said.

"They know where we are."

Kobra was right, after all. They'd had a whole army of Dracs and an Exterminator on their doorstep. Worse, the worst thing of all, was that they'd most likely seen the Girl, when she stepped out to blow them to bits. They would be back, soon and with more backup. The only way to be safe would be to stay on the move, never let the cameras catch them somewhere Better Living could catch up to them.

"We should pack then, yeah?" Party asked. "It's best we're gone before they're back."

Jet nodded. "We'll be gone before the hour's up."

Chapter Text

Tommy Chow-Mein was one of Kobra's least favourite people. Really, it ran back to when it was just him and Party, fresh out of Battery City, hollow-cheeked and starry-eyed and in desperate need of someone to help them. 

Kobra learned real quick that Tommy was not that someone.

He could still taste the bitterness on his tongue of being on the brink of starving, terrified and alone, barely more than a child, and having Tommy try to upsell him food and water. Kobra liked to think himself smart, but negotiation was not his strong suit. He'd let Tommy swindle him out of more carbons than he would like to admit. He always knew he was getting scammed, but the sheer desperation of everything outweighed how much he cared.

Even now, years removed and well-established, Kobra kept his distance from the shop owner, let Party or Jet handle the negotiating. He wouldn't ever be one to let a grudge go, not until the wrongs were made right, and given that Tommy built his whole business on the backs of people just helpless enough to buy his bullshit, it didn't seem like Kobra would be coming around to him any time soon.

Especially not when, for whatever forsaken reason, the man decided to put a whole shelf of Better Living magazines up at the front of his store. Kobra stood and scanned them over. Better Living Propaganda, right in front of him, for sale. He snatched a copy off the shelf, tore through the pages. 

Most of the pages were talking about the Killjoys like they were some kind of terrorist group. Violent, vicious, hardly even human and out to spill the blood of all Battery City. They referenced Kobra and his crew by name, along with Dr. Death Defying and some other well-known figureheads of the rebellion. Kobra was fine with that, he prided himself on being their enemy, but it was the advertisement on the front made his blood boil.

'JOIN SCARECROW TODAY FOR A BETTER TOMORROW'

There were pictures of the young recruits underneath with their hollow smiles and washed out eyes. Kobra knew that look well, he knew their program, what it cost. It all ran through his mind at breakneck speed; Images of blood-splattered porcelain, hours with the droning static of the re-education videos, the feel of wounds on his back left by hands or whips that would crack when he'd fall out of line, the numbness, the desperation.

"What's that?" Party asked, sounding disgusted.

Kobra didn't even answer, hardly heard the question, his fingers curled tighter around the pages, creasing them. He turned and stormed up to the sales counter, completely interrupting whatever deal Jet was trying to strike up. Kobra slammed the magazine on the counter.

"What the hell is this?"

Tommy, smug and unaffected as ever, just shrugged. "Whatever my runners nab from the trucks, I put on the shelves. 's the biz, baby."

"Who buys this shit?" Kobra tried to hold steady against the anger threatening to shake his voice. "You don't even care you're selling their agenda?"

"Don't come in here snappin' 'bout my business, snakeboy. I'd sell this whole damn Zone 'f someone'd buy it."

"Kobra," There was a gentle warning in Jet Star's voice, "go check on the kids, will you?"

Kobra snatched the magazine back, sending his most venomous glare in Tommy's direction. The irritating bell on the door rang as he slammed it open and slammed it shut again. Kobra dug his boot into the sand, more than ever he wished he had somewhere for the anger to go. He wished he had someone to fight, that he could land a good one on Tommy Chow-Mein without losing access to supplies for his crew.

"We runnin'?" Ghoul asked from where he was leaned against their car, smoking a cigarette.

He wasn't allowed in Tommy's shop anymore after an unfortunate 'accident' involving some fire (That was possibly the only time Kobra could remember liking Ghoul), so his job was to stay outside and entertain the Girl, who was sitting in the back of the car doodling as usual. Kobra figured he would be next on Tommy's out list after his outburst, but he couldn't care.

Kobra just shook his head as he walked up. It was best he didn't say anything to Ghoul, sometimes if Kobra ignored him long enough he just went away without a fuss.

That didn't seem to be his plan this time, though. Ghoul grabbed the magazine straight from Kobra's hands, his curious eyes inspected the cover. 

"Tommy's sellin' 'em?" He asked. When Kobra only nodded, Ghoul looked up at him. Then back down. Then up again. "So that's it, ain't it?"

"What?" Kobra finally spat back.

Ghoul nodded towards the cover. "Been tryin' t' figure it out, but I think I got it now. That was you, yeah?"

"Radiation going to your head?" Kobra quipped, the slightest edges of paranoia creeping up. If Ghoul meant what Kobra thought he meant...

"Is it goin' to yours? Or you think I'm that dull?" Ghoul flipped the magazine around and pointed towards the word SCARECROW. "Back in Batt City, you were one of 'em. 's why you're all twisted up about it now, right?"

Kobra was still learning lots of things about Ghoul, but by far the most shocking was how tuned in to everything he really was, how he noticed everything about everyone. He turned everything into a joke, he played himself off as a bit of a fool, but one thing Kobra knew how to do was spot a liar.

Kobra didn't like being lied to, especially when the truth came back to bite him like his namesake.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do. I've guessed for a while, since you started runnin' with us. You fight like one, y'know."

There it was. All Kobra's ghosts, all the shadows he thought only he could see, all the years he'd spent trying to forget and undo were being laid out on the desert sands, and Ghoul spoke like it was no big deal. Like it was just an honest observation, like there was nothing more to it.

Then Ghoul asked another question, one that obliterated the unspoken line they were towing.

"Party too?"

"It's none of your business." Kobra hit the magazine out of Ghoul's hands and onto the ground.

Ghoul laughed, stumbling back to put a little distance between the two of them. "It's eatin' you alive, ain't it?"

"Shut up, Ghoul."

"No, no, I mean- like, I don't care, man. It doesn't change nothin', you're still my crew. Whoever you were in Batt City, they're dead and gone, I jus' thought we could get past tryin' to keep the secret from each other."

"Alright, kids, load up!" Party called as he and Jet walked out of the store, a few bags in their arms. 

Ghoul winked at Kobra and mimicked locking up his lips and throwing out the key before sliding into the backseat of the car.

Kobra tried to breathe out some of the anger and the nervous energy, but it stuck stubbornly in his lungs. Party nudged him from the drivers seat, eyebrow raised in a silent 'You good?'. Kobra nodded silently, doing his best to ignore the blatant concern on Party's face.

If Party had questions, he elected to ask them later. He turned the key in the ignition and the whole thing buzzed to life beneath them.

"...bad news from Zone One, Killjoys." Dr. Death's voice crackled over the radio speakers. Party reached over and turned it up. "Mom 'n Dad dropped down their fire 'n the whole place's gone polka-dotty. The cloud's passed on but it brought some serious thunder first. This call's for all the saints and sinners with helpin' hands to lend. Time to hit the red line and show 'em Killjoys never die. Keep Runnin' out there, here's a song that goes out to anyone still listening."

Party sighed before wordlessly shifting the car into gear and turning them to drive towards Zone One.

---

In Kobra's memory, Zone One was a blur. Coming out of the City and into the desert was a shock to all of his senses and he didn't regain any composure until he was well into Zone Three. Still, he remembered some things. He remembered how the sky glowed in multicolour as the sun came and went, how bright the stars were the first time he laid eyes on them, he remembered abandoned houses and vague footprints in the sand that kept him hoping, kept him moving and dragging Party along with him.

Now all Kobra saw was smoke. Thick and dark and billowing up into the sky, clouding the sun, suffocating the air. They drew closer and he began to see red, red embers, red sky, red in the sand. Everyone in the car instinctively pulled their masks up, not that they did much in the way of blocking the burnt air from their nostrils.

Party all but slammed the car to a stop in the wake of the disaster and rolled down the window. Someone approached them through the wreckage.  As they got closer, Kobra realised he knew them from the unmistakable bright pink jacket.

"Good Destroya, I'm glad t' see you kids." DJ Hot Chimp leaned up against the car, dust and dirt and blood alike caked on her skin. She caught sight of the Girl in the backseat and her eyes widened. "This ain't no place for a little tumbleweed."

"She's with us, Chimp." Party said.

"That's shiny, Red, but we're mostly draggin' bodies out here. It ain't pretty."

"What happened?" Jet asked, horrified eyes glued to the scene outside his window.

"They're turnin' up the heat. Somethin's got 'em all riled up."

Yeah, something. Kobra swallowed the lump forming in his throat and made a point not to look at the kid sitting in the back of their car. They'd been living on the road, setting up a camp here and there but hardly ever staying through a night, and it was all because of her. Better Living made themselves clear, they wanted her and they were willing to put up a fight. Looking around at the wreckage, Kobra wondered if she was the reason for it. Was she so important to them that they'd kill off an entire Zone?

Kobra still didn't know how to feel about this Phoenix Witch thing, he'd never believed in anything like that, but he knew a lot of people did. A lot of people took what she, supposedly, said as truth. Kobra didn't really care if the whole prophecy was true, if the Girl was meant to end the war. Every time Kobra looked at her face he was certain of one thing and one thing alone: he needed to protect her. Not because she was some saviour, not because she was special, but because she was a kid, and he was the adult, and this was what he was supposed to do.

"You got a med team?" Jet asked.

Chimp scoffed. "Hardly. Got a friend bringin' supplies, but his ass can't do shit with 'em. Why? You offering?"

 "Yeah, I'll take the Girl with me, teach 'er how to help. Kobra, we could use another set of hands?"

Kobra nodded, grateful for the sunglasses and the bandana that hid most of his face. He was sure he looked scared out of his wits. That was how he felt.

"Ghoul and I can help you with the bodies." Party said, turning off the car. "Get a head count t' report back to Doc."

Ghoul didn't look too sure about the idea, but he didn't protest. He hopped right out of the car along with everyone else.

The Girl stood herself between Kobra and Jet, grabbing Kobra's hand like it was a lifeline.

Jet knelt down by her, smoothed down the sleeves of her jacket. "There's some hurt people here and we're gonna help 'em, okay? We might see some stuff that's scary, but sometimes that's just what we have t' do when we help. We can make 'em feel better."

The Girl nodded slowly, still pale and fearful, but her feet followed as Jet and Kobra led her to where Chimp said the wounded were. 

It was impossible to tell what happened, exactly. At first, it seemed like Better Living had dropped a bomb on the whole place, levelled it completely, but there were still some structures standing, albeit on their last legs. It was precise, like they'd wanted there to be evidence of the massacre at the end of it. It was the work of an Exterminator, maybe even the Exterminator they'd sent out to find them at the diner.

The stench burned Kobra's nose, the unnatural smell of smoke off burning wood and flesh alike. It was almost worse as they stepped into one of the dilapidated, singed houses still standing. All the injured were laid out, not on cots or even blankets, but on the barren floor. One singular medic, one who sported an awful burn on her own calf, was floating around the room with worry digging in the lines of her face. She brightened just slightly as she saw them.

Jet held out the measly medical supplies they'd had on hand, not nearly enough, but more than these people had before they arrived. "I'm Jet Star, this is Kobra Kid. We're here to help, if we can."

The medic nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Miss Cellophane, Cellie's fine. I've got 'em stable, but we need- well, everything, honest."

Jet turned back to Kobra. "Grab two jugs of water from the car."

Kobra moved quickly, adrenaline pulsing under his skin. The smoke made him cough with every breath in, but he wheezed his way to the car and back, not daring to stop and look around at the disaster. By the time he got back, another Killjoy had arrived with the extra supplies and Kobra helped him unload.

Inside, Jet was knelt down by one of the wounded, someone who had been pierced in the side by debris. It made Kobra uncomfortable to watch Jet guide the Girl's surprisingly steady hands as they cleared the wound, bandaged it up. The whole way along, he patiently explained what they were doing in detail, his voice low and calming. Kobra wanted to jump in, to point out that she was far too young to be getting her hands dirtied with someone else's blood.

Before he could figure out what to say, Jet turned to him, holding out a roll of gauze. Kobra didn't miss how his hands trembled.

"Can you take this 'round 'n help Cellie finish up some?" He asked.

Kobra instinctively shook his head. He was a fighter, he knew how to make the wound, not how to heal them. He was the last person who should be helping. "I don't know what I'm-"

"Doing, right, but that's not what I asked." Jet waved the gauze in his direction. "I trust you, Kid, and I need your help. Please?"

Well, that was something. Kobra knew all too well that trust was a fool's game, it only spit out losers, especially when it was misplaced into the hands of someone so unready, but Jet looked at him with a certain kind of pleading- a desperation, and it would be cruel to walk away. 

Kobra took the gauze. Kobra took the trust.

It could have been minutes or hours or even a full day that they were in there, but eventually every injury was sanitised and dressed. Jet even put some ointment on Cellie's calf while she sat with the Girl and tried to explain to her what had happened. 

"You know Better Living, right?"

The Girl looked up at Kobra. "The bad guys?"

Kobra nodded. "The bad guys."

"They're real angry with people here-"

"Why?"

"For not followin' their rules. They don't like Killjoys."

"But we're Killjoys!" The Girl went wide eyed. "Are they gonna get us too?"

"No, baby," Cellie smiled weakly at her, "you don't gotta worry."

"But the bad guys hurt people!"

"Well, you've got the good guys t' protect you, don't you?"

Jet stood abruptly, dusting his hands and mumbling something Kobra barely registered as 'I'll be right back'.

Kobra exchanged a confused glance with Cellie before following Jet out. He didn't love leaving the Girl, but something told him she'd be just fine there with Cellie for a few minutes.

"Jet?" Kobra didn't see him at first, not until he looked down.

Jet sat with his back against the front of the building, knees pulled up to his chest, a still trembling hand over his mouth.

Kobra froze. Jet Star - stoic, steady, take-no-bullshit Jet Star - had silent tears rolling down his face. Kobra couldn't help but feel like he was the worst person to be dealing with this. He wanted to go get Ghoul, or even Party- hell, he'd even trade places with Cellie and it would probably go better. Kobra didn't do well with any emotions, couldn't even handle his own without bruising his knuckles or knocking back some liquor.

But Kobra took Jet's trust, he wasn't going to betray it by leaving.

"Jet Star?" He tried again.

A soft gasp of breath and a muffled ''m sorry' came from the boy as he curled further in on himself. Kobra was sick of hearing those words so pitifully, through cries. He awkwardly shuffled over and sank down next to Jet, not sure what to say or do other than that.

"I never thought..." Jet trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut as more tears threatened to spill. "This won't stop."

Kobra desperately wished he lived with people who would say what they meant. Between Ghoul's ramblings earlier in the day, Jet now, and how Party always was, Kobra felt like he was the only one who didn't speak in half-sentences or cryptic code.

He knew he had to try and calm the trembling Killjoy beside him.

Calm words, pull the reassurance you don't have. Make it up, like one of Party's stories. 

"Jet, it's gonna be alright."

"Don't you get it, Kobra? We're outmatched. They could bomb this whole damn place, level it 'f they wanted, 'n there's nothin' we could do. You were right, with what you said. We're ducks that sit, or whatever."

"Sitting ducks." Kobra corrected.

"Yeah, that." He hung his head low. "We- we can't keep the kid safe, we can't keep ourselves safe. It's- if they play like this, it's a losing fight. We've lost."

"I-" He stopped. What was there to say? Jet was right, and Kobra was the wrong person to go to for optimism. It was just the same thing he'd been telling Party for years, that, no matter how good their intentions were, they couldn't save the world. A few kids in the desert didn't stand a chance against Better Living.

The Killjoys didn't have atomic bombs, they didn't have armies of trained soldiers, they didn't have security cameras or Exterminators or even someone at the head of the operation, calling the shots.

They were a bunch of scrappy, scared, beamless kids who were dumb enough to run.

Movement caught Kobra's eye. For a moment, he thought it was just more ash raining down from the smoky, red sky, but then it landed on his lap. He blinked hard, staring at it as though it would make any more sense the longer he looked.

A feather. A single, ebony feather, with no birds in sight.

A memory flashed in his mind. A memory of him and Party, alone and worn down, at the very end of their ropes. A memory of ebony feathers held in Party's hands, of an argument. His argument.

"They've got all the power." A memory of hopelessness sitting where Kobra's heart should've been in his chest. "Two rats in the middle of the desert aren't going to save the world."

A memory of Party's two-word response. "Someone's gotta."

Kobra did not believe in the Phoenix Witch, did not believe in the prophecy or the so-called purpose that drove his brother to put his life on the line. He did, however, have a feather in his lap and a memory in his head and he didn't have to believe to understand what it all meant.

He couldn't lay down and die there.

He couldn't let Jet Star give up either.

"We have to try."

Jet looked up at him with heavy eyes. "So many people died today."

"So many people die everyday, that's how it goes."

"They've got our faces, they've got our location. We're already dusted, we're just killin' the time they're givin' us."

"It won't be easy. We'll have to play it smart, make a real plan, dust some more pigs." Kobra's words felt like they were betraying how he really felt, but he couldn't stop. They couldn't lay down and die there. He wouldn't let them. "Look, we're here, we're breathing, I don't know why most days, but for some reason we're still here. We can still try to fight. Someone has to try, right?"

Jet gave him a strange look. An almost-smile, a glint of recognition in his eyes. "You're soundin' like Party right now."

Kobra tried not to grimace at that. He hated to admit that his brother's naive belief that they could be heroes was giving him hope, but there was nothing else to turn to. He stood up from the ground, dusting his hands off on his pants. "We'll call Dr. D, see if we can organise some bigger hits- we'll have to aim for CROWS and Exterminators, not just Dracs. It'll get messy, we might lose, but it's the only chance we've got." Kobra paused, sucking in a breath of the contaminated air, and offered a hand out to Jet. "But none of that even matters if you don't get back up. No second chances if you're dead."

Jet stalled, staring hollowly at Kobra's outstretched hand. Finally, he reached out and took it, standing to his feet.

Kobra pushed back the paranoia that maybe Jet was right. Maybe they'd already lost, maybe he was wrong to give Jet false hope.

But they didn't lay down and die there.

They were going to keep fighting.

Someone had to.

Chapter Text

111 dead, 24 injured, Zone One declared unliveable.

When Ghoul closed his eyes, he saw it all over again; Bodies, eyes, hands slick with blood, the shredded fabric of masks that would never make it to the mailbox. Who was guiding their souls?

Everything felt like static.

111 dead, 24 injured, Zone One declared unliveable.

That could've been him. Wrong place wrong time. The sky opened up to swallow him whole.

"Ghoul." 

He wanted to ignore it, pretend to be asleep. If he opened his eyes, he would only be back in the wreckage, see the bodies, the blood. He could still feel the smoke filling his lungs with every pained breath, made him almost never want to touch another cigarette for his whole life. He was never so squeamish, so weak before. What happened to him?

In the end, through all the paranoia, Ghoul peeled his eyes open.

And in the end it was only Party, standing over him with worry written into his well-worn frown. He waved a hand in front of Ghoul's face. "Gone all spaceman on us. You good?"

"Good." His voice didn't sound like his own. Too far off. Spaceman.

111 dead, 24 injured, Zone One declared unliveable.

Unliveable.

Gone.

It must not've sounded right to Party either. He crouched down. "It's okay if... alright, I'm not. Good, I mean. I'm not good. But... we'll find our groove again. Sooner than y' think." 

Groove, right.

Did the people in Zone One have a groove?

"What?" Party asked.

What? Oh, must've said that out loud.

"Listen to me, this sucks. It- fuck, it's awful, and it's time to do something about it." Party's words were laced in anger. He was a firestorm. Rebellion walking. "We need to show them what we're about. Make some real noise."

Something in Ghoul started to kindle, a wick ignited in his stomach. 

111 dead, 24 injured, Zone One-

Stop it, Ghoul. 

Come back down to earth and do something about it.

Fuck Better Living, show 'em how it feels to be blown to bits.

---

 "...Ghoul, you ready to rock?" Kobra's voice came through the radio.

Ghoul pressed the talk button. "Fuckin' ready."

"...Alright, wait for the pyro cue."

Ghoul kept his radio close and the button that would detonate the whole place closer as he curled up in the backseat of the car.

The whole plan was genius - and of course it was, it came from Kobra Kid. It was no wonder to Ghoul why he made such a good CROW back in Battery City, he was smart, quick, and knew exactly where to hit to make it hurt. He'd somehow gotten into the Drac patrol's radio signal, dropped anonymous hints that the Killjoys were rallying for war, that they'd all be gathered for a meeting in an abandoned warehouse out in Zone Four. Of course they took the bait, they always did, and now Ghoul and his crew were all just waiting for Better Living to show ugly face.

"It's too quiet." Party mused from behind the wheel. "Think they'll believe it?"

Right as the words left his mouth, music began streaming out from inside the building. Ghoul grinned, Jet and Kobra thought of everything. As long as they planted his bomb exactly where he told them to, they were ready.

That was a good thing too, as Ghoul heard the rumble of engines approaching. Party turned the car off and flipped off the lights.

The Girl tapped his hand, remembering the directions she'd been given to stay quiet. She whispered. "Can I hit the button?"

Ghoul nodded. "Not 'till I say, okay?"

Ghoul felt a satisfaction settle in as Better Living rolled up. Several cars of Dracs and at least five SCARECROW on bikes were pulling up to the warehouse. It wasn't a huge hit, but there would still be five less SCARECROW roaming the desert after this.

He pressed the button on the radio again. "Kobra Kid, come in."

"...Here."

"Get off the dance floor."

"...10-4."

Barely visible through all the shadows, two figures skirted out the back if the building just as Better Living's army walked in. The radio crackled on again.

"...Alright, kill the party."

Ghoul held out the detonator to the Girl, who readily pressed the button. The blast went off loud and hot and sent orange flames cascading through the darkness. It was beautiful, it was destruction, it was- well fuck, it was horrifying. Ghoul watched the flames eat away at any structure that had been there, watched the smoke rise in the air, and he was snapped back into Zone One. There wasn't enough air, the ash and smoke would eat it all up until there was nothing left to fill his heavy lungs. There would be more bodies to deal with.

111 bodies.

And 24 injured.

And-

"Don't go nowhere on me, Ghoulie." Party was turned around in his seat, a clearly faltering grin on his face. 

Ghoul swallowed hard. Shook it off. "I'm not." He forced his eyes back to the flames, forced the disbelieving sound that crept up his throat into a laugh, not a sob. They did it, five less SCARECROW roaming the desert. His bomb had done it. And it was a good thing. Right?

"Good." Party swivelled back around and turned the car on. "Need everybody here on Team Getaway Car."

"Did you SEE that?" The Girl laughed, shaking Ghoul's shoulder.

Ghoul gave her a fist bump and leaned into the uneasy smile that pulled on his lips. Five less SCARECROW. His bomb. Good thing.

He was really laughing along with the rest of them by the time Jet and Kobra tumbled into the car. 

Jet was beaming, which Ghoul largely preferred to how empty and shaken he'd been in the days before. "They're gonna be cage-mad when they figure out what hit 'em!"

"Good." Kobra remarked. Even he sported the faintest of smiles on his face.

Ghoul caught a glint of something stark-white in the reflection of his window. He turned around to see several Dracs on motorcycles emerging onto the road, tailing them closely. Better Living sent backup. His heart jumped into his throat and he opened his mouth to tell everyone, but Kobra beat him to it.

"Cavalry on our tail."

Ghoul saw Party's sharp eyes flash in the rearview mirror. "Everyone hold on."

He slammed the gas pedal down, whipping the car to the left, off the road. Ghoul held his arm out over the Girl, who seemed elated to be jostled around by Party's race-track driving.

"Party, drive straight!" Jet shouted.

Party rolled his eyes. "Tryna lose 'em!"

"No, we have to take 'em!" Jet insisted. "Party, get back on the road! Ghoul, get the Big One!"

Ghoul didn't know where exactly this punchy war-fighter version of Jet Star came from - the bomb in Zone One changed everything and everyone, he supposed - but Ghoul didn't have to be asked twice about pulling out his prized weapon. As the car levelled onto the steadier terrain of the road, he leaned over and grabbed the bazooka blaster he'd found on a raid, lovingly named the Big One, before slamming open the sunroof.

"I wanna help!" The Girl exclaimed, already standing.

Ghoul helped her up. "You remember how to shoot it?"

The Girl, instead of answering, reached out and pulled the trigger. White-hot panic washed over Ghoul for a second until he realised the blast was aimed at the Dracs, knocking a few of them off their bikes. In an instant he let out a whoop of laughter, clapping the Girl on the shoulder. She beamed brightly.

"Hey! You wanna do that again?" Kobra called. He was hanging out the window doing his best to pop some tires with his blaster.

Ghoul aimed better this time, prepared when the Girl's trigger-happy hands made for the gun. The whole car cheered when they got a direct hit on the last three Dracs. When Ghoul was pulled back down by Jet, he fell into his seat cackling, the worries brushing off him like the breeze off his skin.

---

Three more hits like that and their names were everywhere. In the Zones, in the City, on the Waves of every channel that cut through the static.

Some people were calling them heroes, which Party basked in, but it didn't quite feel right to Ghoul. They were doing what needed to be done, mostly because there was no one else to do it, no one else who could do it quite so well. 

And they were becoming a real, actual team.

Kobra was cold, calculated strategy. He had crazy knowledge about Better Living, he understood how they thought, how they planned, and he beat them to the mark. Jet was a walking compass and masterful negotiation. He knew the desert and its people like he knew himself, always giving place and substance to their plans. Party was a silver-tongued spitfire. He talked Dr. D into giving him airtime, encouraging the rebels to follow in their footsteps. He kept spirits up, was the designated getaway driver, and landed every shot he took. Ghoul was the hands of the operation. He made the bombs, good ones, deadly ones. He kept the car running, kept the radios humming.

And the Girl kept them going. Like electricity, a charge to their batteries. She was hope, in a way, and not because of the Witch, not because of the prophecy, but because of who she was. A floral-eyed little sunbeam, honey-smile and wild mind. 

If there was one thing Ghoul knew for sure, it was that he loved his Girl.

---

Ghoul didn't think too hard about the past anymore. Not Zone One, not his time in Better Living, not his old crew, not his parents. Ghoul didn't waste space on any of it. Tried not to, at least. The days moved too fast to dwell on much except the current moment, the future was the most promising it had ever been, and Ghoul hung onto that like a lifeline. But sometimes the world still got quiet, usually at night.

The whole group was gathered around a campfire, the Girl long and fast asleep on Ghoul. The desert was silent way out in Zone Five, distant from the city lights and too filled with radiation to house any wildlife. It was cold out, but the fire burned hot enough to cut through the chill, spitting out uneven warmth on Ghoul's skin.

The fires in One burned hot-

Stop. No more. Please.

Ghoul took in a shaky breath and tried to remember the advice Jet Star had given him when he'd noticed Ghoul losing his head.

"Here, think about what you can see, what you can feel. That's what's real. That's what keeps y' grounded, spaceman."

Right, what you can see, what you can feel. Stay grounded. Focus.

Ghoul moved his fingers tenderly, feeling the gristle of the sand underneath his palms. Held still to feel the soft breathing of the Girl asleep against his side. Heard his own erratic heartbeat in his ears.

Whistling wind, orange fire.

Hot, warm, cold.

His heartbeat started to slow.

Ghoul sighed and unstuck his eyes from the fire to look around.

No else one was asleep either, none of them slept much, save the Girl. Without a place to call home, most nights were spent on the desert floor. They were wanted men sitting out in the open, easy targets. 

Usually they all just waited the night out in silence. Maybe it was fear of being found out, maybe it was fear of what the tiredness would pull from their mouths. Then, maybe it wasn't fear at all. Not for the others, at least. Ghoul knew he felt afraid.

Apparently tonight was different.

"Storm's blowin' in." Jet whispered, hardly able to be heard.

Party breathed out a laugh. "That so?"

"Don't you feel it?"

"No. Is that a desert-born thing?" Kobra asked, looking to Ghoul.

Ghoul shook his head. "'s a Jet Star thing."

"You're some weather psychic?" Party was still laughing, more loudly now.

Jet frowned. "I'm serious. My arm hurts. Always does 'fore a storm."

A beat of silence, then a soft chuckle from Kobra.

"Well, shit, we're in the wrong place for that."

Party eyed Ghoul. "Accuracy rate on the psychic powers?"

"Well, I ain't no mathmagician-"

"Mathematician." Kobra corrected.

"Oh, fuck off, Mr. City Education." Ghoul flipped him off, careful not to shift too much and wake up the Girl. "Anyways, he's never been wrong since I've known 'im."

"No clouds yet, we should be good 'till tomorrow." Jet said.

Party nodded. "Probably best we get out of the open anyway."

There was more weight to that sentence than any of them wanted to admit. It hung in the air like the smoke from the fire. Sure, there was probably a real, actual, rain-cloud storm rolling in, but there was another storm that had been brewing up for a while, waiting for a chance to downpour right on them. They couldn't keep running forever.

"Sitting ducks." Ghoul broke the silence.

"Tiny asleep?" Kobra asked quietly. Ghoul looked down to confirm before giving him a thumbs up. Kobra continued softly. "How long can we really keep doing this?"

"As long as it takes." Party's response came quick. 

"As long as we've got left, you mean."

"As long as it takes." Party said again. "We can win this, I know it. Y'think I'm just spouting bullshit when I talk?"

"Usually, yeah." Ghoul snickered. Party reached over and flicked him in the ear.

"Hey, guys, I was talkin' to Doc yesterday," Jet started, "he says our bounties 've all gone up 'n they're sendin' Exterminators after us. Big shots. Now, I love gettin' on their nerves as much as the next 'joy but..." He never finished his sentence.

"I think Party's right. We're doin' what we can, strikin' up a real rebellion. Someone's gotta take 'em out or she'll have to be runnin' from 'em her whole life." Ghoul argued.

Jet frowned, the way he always did when he was contemplating something fierce. "Listen, I... I've been talkin' to Gertie-"

"No." Ghoul felt fire rise up from his stomach. "We can't send her anywhere! They'll find her and we won't be there to protect her."

"With us- with any crew, she sticks out like the scratchin' on a broken record. But if- well, with Gertie we could give her a new name, change up her look a little. She'd blend right in with all the other kids there."

Party shook his head. "Absolutely not. Better'll find her, I know they will."

"They'll find her with us! And then what?"

"Not if we stay ahead of them." Kobra cut through the argument, silencing everyone in a second. "We can- I can do that. I'll keep in touch with the DJs, look for patterns in the way they send units out. The only place that's safe is several steps ahead of them."

"If you say so." Jet's voice wavered, but he said no more. Ghoul knew too well that meant he would bring it back up later, just wanted the fighting to stop for now.

Ghoul zoned in on the Girl's warmth against his side, could feel the beating of his own heart where she was pressed up on him, and he couldn't picture just giving her up. Even if it was easy, even if maybe it was the 'right' thing, he knew he'd never be able to do it. And Jet wouldn't either, really, even if he talked a big game. They all loved her, that Ghoul knew for sure.

"Well hey, no clouds yet. Right, Jetty?" Party also seemed to be in a pacifying mood.

"Right," Jet's voice was gravelly, "should be alright 'till the sun rises."

"And when it does we'll keep runnin'. Together, all of us." Ghoul said, gently ruffling the Girl's hair. She shifted, but didn't wake.

And those were the thoughts that kept him grounded through the rest of the sleepless night.

No clouds yet.

Sun's gonna rise.

Together.

Chapter Text

If you asked Party Poison, the ocean was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Mesmerising movement of crystal blue and gold where the sun hit it. It was limitless, stretching all the way beyond the horizon line, and it was free. Free to move, to dance, to be beautiful. He caught his own reflection in it too, older than he remembered it, if he even did remember, but also more alive. More free. The neon red of his hair was starting to grow out, giving way to the dark roots that really belonged to someone else, someone long gone that he couldn't even remember. It didn't matter, he'd grab some more dye next time they went to Tommy's store and make it right again.

Party could've watched it for hours. Stood just past where the waves lapped up at his feet and listened to the roll of the water, watched the colours glisten and change with every ripple.

Unfortunately another reflection disrupted the scene by joining his, ebony and porcelain and feathers all muddled up by the water's uneven surface. Party turned his face away from the water, to the person standing to his left.

"Thank you for meeting me." The Phoenix Witch was still gazing at the water, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Where am I?" Party asked. It was beginning to rush over him that this wasn't normal, that there was no ocean in the desert - or in the whole world, as far as Party knew. Maybe he was wrong.

"You wouldn't understand if I tried to explain, but think of it like a dream. An important one. I trust you won't forget?"

Party was beginning to remember that he did't like the Witch much, if that was something he was allowed to think, given that she was a deity or whatever Dr. Death had said. She just didn't have much in the way of tact, always taking digs and saying things that didn't make any sense to him. 

"You do remember what I said to you, all that time ago?"

Party nodded. "You said I was s'posed to save the world."

"Yes. You're a clever one, figuring out as much as you did with the Girl." The Witch didn't smile, her face was a porcelain mask with three lines cut out where her mouth would have been, but Party felt like he heard something like a smile in her voice. "And I trust you're clever enough to know the enemy is after you for it right now."

"They've been after us-"

"It's different now. You know it, your comrades know it - no amount of faux optimism can fool me, Party Poison. Your brother was right, you're on very limited time and it's running out."

"What am I supposed to do about that?" Party wanted to rip his hair out. What was she accomplishing by telling him they were all doomed? Who did this help? 

"I did not choose you by luck of the draw, you might be the only one who has what it will take." She paused, bending down to pick up a fistful of the wet sand. She let in run through her fingers, drop back into the water. "Are you ready to give it all up?"

Party's heart beat against his ribcage, mind immediately spun around with all the possibilities. What did she mean? Was he going to have to give up the Girl to save the world? Or, worse, all of them? His crew? 

The Witch washed her hands in the water, sighing deeply. "Not them, you."

"Me?" Party echoed.

"I told you, I chose you for a reason. It took all of your friends to get to this point, but it is now up to you, and you alone. You are only fuel to the great fires, my dear boy. Ignition. You must protect those who will finish it."

Party caught his reflection in the water again, caught the pathetic despair on his own face. He willed his expression to harden. When he pictured his destiny, for all this time, he pictured being the one to end Better Living for good. He'd never considered that he might not make it there, that he was never supposed to make it to the end.

"Why me?"

The Witch seemed to think about this for a second, like the question struck an uncomfortable chord with her. "I do not control life or death, child, they give and take who they please, but I can guide you onto the path that causes the least suffering." There was sorrow in the Witch's eyes as she reached out, gently caressed Party's cheek. "Would you like me to show you what happens on a different path?" 

Party nodded. Instantly his head was filled with flashing images. The aftermath of a battle. Jet sprawled on the hood of the Trans-AM, uncountable holes in his body still smoking. Ghoul slouched against the frame of shattered glass doors, head lolled and pale and lifeless. Kobra face down on the ground, still except for the slight post-mortem twitch of his hand as blood leaked onto the ground. Party himself, half his jaw blown off and his whole frontside soaked in red - hardly a saviour, hardly even recognisable as human.

Party Poison gasped for air as he returned to the oceanside. His hand snapped up to his jaw, which was thankfully still in one piece. He looked up at the Witch, sure his disgust and betrayal was clear on his face, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

"What the hell was that? Why would you show me that?" His words tumbled out scalding and angry.

The Witch didn't even flinch at his outburst. "A necessary evil, Party Poison."

"You- that can't happen! That won't happen, I won't let it!"

"And it doesn't have to." The Witch nodded. "As I said, I do not control life or death, but I am telling you that it does not have to go this way. You have a choice. Your sacrifice will save them, if you so choose."

Party's stomach flipped inside out. "My life for theirs?"

"No, child. Your life for the world."

---

Party woke up from the oceanside like he would any other dream: On the hard desert floor with achy bones and someone nudging him awake.

"C'mon, Red. Don't got all day." Ghoul's boot knocked into Party's ribs, not hard enough to be considered a kick, just a nuisance. 

Party groaned and rolled himself off the ground. "I'm up, you dick."

"Finally! Felt like I was tryin' t' raise the dead over here." Ghoul rolled his eyes, which Party noticed were surrounded by dark rings. Party wondered if he even slept anymore. "We're headin' out, storm's rollin' in."

It was true, there were dark clouds on the horizon. Apparently Jet's psychic connection to the weather had some credibility. Desert-borns made no sense to Party.

They weren't even heading anywhere in particular, just driving to stay ahead of their pursuers. Kobra had also apparently stayed up through the night, making good on his promise to map everything out. He claimed they needed to head back towards Zone Three before they stopped again and Party wasn't going to argue, driving cleared his head.

Well, usually it did. As the desert flew by outside the windows, all Party could do was re-run everything the Witch had said to him, all the things he saw. He felt stupid now, but he seriously never thought about having to give up his life. There was a certain armour he had, knowing he was meant for something greater, but now he wondered if he was looking at it all wrong. He wasn't safe from death by his purpose, death was his purpose. He was nothing more than a single step on the grand staircase of the rebellion. He'd been too cocky, he'd felt invincible.

He didn't know how to feel about it all. On one hand, he trusted the Witch and he knew he would do anything to protect his family, but he also selfishly felt too young to die. It was stupid, especially considering he didn't even know how old he was, but it plagued him nonetheless. 

Just the fact that he didn't know plagued him too. He was going to die and he didn't know anything. He didn't know his name, his first one. He didn't know his age. He didn't know who he'd really been or where he'd come from and he would die that way. A nobody from nowhere.

All the questions he'd never brought himself to ask were suddenly lodged in his throat with nowhere to go. By the time they made a rest stop at the gas station that marked the Zone Four border, Party felt like he was swimming in an ocean of questions as large as the one he'd seen with the Witch. It might've been easier to talk to anyone else in the crew about it all, but he knew there was only one person who would have the answers he needed.

Kobra Kid was leaning against the corroded gas pump, reading some magazine through his sunglasses. As Party walked up he put it down, nodding in acknowledgement.

"What'cha reading?" Party asked the easiest question first. Something to get the ball rolling.

Kobra raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"Wh- nothing!" Party sputtered. "I just wanna talk, 's that so wrong?"

"For you, yeah. Plus you were stewing the whole ride over, don't think I didn't notice."

Party sighed, taking a seat against the pump. "I want to talk about the City."

There was a sizeable silence, then Kobra sank down beside him, sunglasses pushed back into his hair. "Alright, what about it?"

"Anything, really, I... Hey, Kid, how old am I?" He honestly didn't even know if Kobra would have the answer. It wasn't like anyone was sitting around counting days on a calendar out there. Maybe he lost track.

Then again, it was Kobra Kid, so it didn't come as a full surprise when his answer was quick and sure.

"Twenty-two." He said quietly. "Almost twenty-three, I think."

"That makes you-"

"Twenty, last week."

Party felt a cherry pit in his stomach. "I didn't know, Kid."

"I didn't tell you. I don't like talking about it, you know that."

"You don't like reminding me."

Kobra's eyes narrowed. He shook his head. "That's not it."

"Sure it is."

"No, it's not. I just don't see a reason. We're not those people anymore, there's no need to drag them back up at every turn." Kobra sighed. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. What's really bothering you?"

"That's it." That was so far from it.

Kobra looked like he was going to protest when the Girl ran up to them, contagious grin on her face. "Ghoul says 'When are we fuckin' leaving already?'."

Party laughed. "We can go." He stood up off the ground, stopping in his tracks as a hand caught his wrist. He turned back to see Kobra's eyes full of concern.

"Party..."

He forced his lips into a smile and pulled away. "That's it, Kid. Promise."

---

Thunder and lightening rippled across the sky. The storm was catching up quicker than they were prepared for. Kobra's plan to stop in Zone Three was starting to make less sense knowing that they'd be drowned by the sky unless they could find actual shelter for the night. Party pushed the car as fast as it would go, feeling more than just storm clouds pressing against his back. It felt like the Witch had ignited a fire of her own, and he had to just keep moving or it was going to burn him.

"What if we stop at Doc's?" Jet asked.

"Feels risky." Party answered. "A little too 'on the map' isn't it?"

Jet shrugged. "Might be our only option, 'less we wanna get caught in the rain."

"The rain might cover us if we stay with Dr. D, actually. It's a lot harder to hunt in a downpour." Kobra said, looking over his maps.

Party couldn't settle the uneasy feeling in his stomach as they turned off the main road towards the radio station. He was sure he was acting insane, looking over his shoulder and gripping the wheel until his knuckles drained of colour, but he couldn't help it. The Witch had been clear, something was coming his way and he would have to make his choice. He couldn't shake that it was going to happen that day.

Even once night fell and the only sound filling the radio station was the quiet hum of the broadcasting equipment, Party felt so far from sleep. He sat in the corner of the room, on the carpet the Girl usually sat on the draw. Every noise made him bristle, every movement twitched his hand towards his gun. He hated feeling so paranoid, he hated feeling doomed.

At some point, a bleary and beamless Ghoul tread quietly over to him and sat down on the carpet. Ghoul looked worse for wear, but that was steadily becoming his normal. He was getting back to himself, still just as reckless and easily stirred to laughter as before, but there was still something... off about him. He hardly slept, hardly ate, and sometimes he would just go somewhere else entirely, like someone turned the light off behind his eyes and left. It all made Party sick with guilt. He never would have asked him for help cleaning up Zone One if he knew how much it would wreck him, and now he felt some kind of personal responsibility to dig him out of the hole.

He seemed present as he sat down, though, just sleepless. He rubbed at his eyes. "Can't sleep, hm?"

"Neither can you." Party snapped. It came out harsher than he meant it.

Ghoul put his hands up, a sarcastic grin on his face. "Destroya, what's got you wound up so tight?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, yeah, sure it's nothin'." He rolled his eyes. "That's why I ask a nice question and you're snappin' at me."

"I'm just tired."

"Fuck, me too. But neither 'f us are sleepin', are we?" He let out a quiet, dry laugh. "Things are so fucked."

Party swallowed the lump in his throat, leaning back against the wall. He hadn't told anyone about his conversations with the Witch, save for telling Jet Star he was supposed to save the world. He wondered if Ghoul would get it. It seemed like Ghoul was a believer, at least Party assumed from all the times he heard the boy mutter a prayer under his breath or saw him drop masks at mailboxes. Maybe he would understand.

Then the Witch's words echoed in his ears. "It is now up to you, and you alone."

Alone. If he told Ghoul or Kobra or even Jet he was sure they would put him on some kind of watch, make sure he didn't go off by himself or do something stupid. That couldn't happen, not if he was supposed to go it alone.

This was just something he was supposed to bear by himself.

Luckily, Ghoul didn't waste too much time before he started talking again, saving Party from any more spiralling out.

"I knew mom 'n dad could've done something like that, something like Zone One, but they just didn't y'know? My whole life, I've seen a lot but I've never seen... I dunno, it's stupid, really, but I'm just hung up on it."

"Not stupid." Party mumbled. He'd be a liar if he said he was completely fine after that day.

"Yeah, maybe not." Ghoul shrugged. "I just- I know they're comin' for the Girl, and I know we've gotta protect her 'till we can't, I just feel like it's comin' faster than we think. I'd let 'em ghost me to save her, no question, but it's all catchin' up so fast and- and it's like, okay it's gonna be my life for hers and it's gonna be soon."

Not your life, mine. Party couldn't say that to him. He just nodded, unable to even look Ghoul in the eye. "I know how that feels. Trust me." 

He wanted to find the words to make Ghoul feel better, to scrounge up any of the optimism he'd had even just the day before, but it felt like the Witch had reached into his chest and taken all the hope out of it. He couldn't believe any of the fighting words he could think of to say, they would all just taste bitter rolling off his tongue.

"It's keepin' you up too, ain't it?" Ghoul asked.

Party nodded slowly. "How could it not?" That wasn't technically a lie.

"Yeah..." He laughed quietly. "Some fuckin' heroes we are, huh?"

Party Poison didn't like being the hero. Not anymore.

---

Party snapped out of sleep with an undeniable feeling that something was wrong. Rain was pounding heavy on the roof, washing the whole place in a steady white noise. When had he even fallen asleep? He blinked tiredness from his eyes, his heart rapping against his chest, and looked around the room.

Everything looked like it should have. Ghoul was still next to him on the carpet, finally taken by sheer exhaustion. Party was careful not to disturb him as he stood up. Jet was slouched over on the table, snoring softly. Kobra and the Girl were- wait. Party's breath caught in his throat as he realised he only saw Kobra sleeping soundly on the couch, no sign of the Girl.

No sign of the Girl.

Where was the Girl?

Party poked around for a few minutes, trying to see if she'd gotten up and run off somewhere, but as he approached the front of the station and noticed the front door slightly ajar, his stomach dropped in horrible realisation. 

He wanted to deny it, there was no logical way anyone could have snuck in without them noticing, but he had to admit that technically wasn't true. Between the pouring rain that drowned out every other noise and the pure exhaustion that had pulled them all to sleep, it was too possible. He didn't know how they'd caught up to them, he didn't know why they'd left the rest of them alive, he didn't even know where they would've taken her, but none of that really even mattered.

They had let their guards down and now she was gone.

She was gone and it was up to Party had to save her. Alone.

Party didn't think twice as he pulled on his jacket and his boots, pulled his mask down over his eyes. It was only when he got to the couch where Kobra was sleeping that he faltered. He couldn't wake him, but he wondered briefly if he should leave a note, anything to make it all make some sense. It was too risky to find a pen and paper and to waste the time writing. Besides, he didn't even know what he would say. There weren't enough words in the world to cover this. Nothing better to say than a barely whispered goodbye.

Nothing better to do than start the car and count down the Zones to Battery City.

Zone Four.

Party had never done anything so alone in his entire life, he always had Kobra there. Someone was always watching his back, affirming his decisions, walking with him into the unknown. But that midnight car ride, in the pouring rain, Party Poison was completely and utterly alone. He wanted to turn the car around, wake his friends, and fight this together. He wanted to radio Dr. Death Defying, tell someone where he was. He wanted the Witch to wake him up from this like it was only a bad dream, to tell him that there was any other way out.

Zone Three.

The Zones blurred by in a mess of tiredness and tears. He knew it was selfish to feel upset about the way it all worked out, but he just couldn't help it. He hated being a means to an end - ignition, as the Phoenix Witch put it. A part of him still wanted to be the optimist, to try and find another way, Witch be damned, but the visions she'd shown him kept his foot planted on the gas pedal.

Zone Two.

Don't be selfish, Party. Keep driving, keep running. Don't let your family die.

His family. Maybe it was the quiet or maybe it was his own certain death making him mull things over, but he found himself wondering when that had happened. When had he stopped considering them strangers? Started thinking of them as family? How did anyone become a family, anyway? Some said it was fate, something decided by the blood in your veins.

Party would argue it was way more complicated than that.

Zone One.

At least, he thought - through his delirium - that it was more complicated. Family was something chosen, something forged through fighting and long nights and blood spilled and cleaned. As the car sped through the wreckage that used to be Zone One, Party realised that had bonded them together too. They talked more, they had to, so they wouldn't drown in it all. Their bonds were built on necessity, on survival. They couldn't afford more or less than that.

And maybe that's all family was, in the end; Falling down and knowing, no doubts, no questions, that someone will grab your hand and pull you back up again. 

He tried to let that comfort cover him like a blanket, tried to pull it taught and keep the bone-chilling cold out. Jet and Ghoul would keep Kobra safe, they would keep the Girl protected. Party knew it, deep within himself, more than he knew anything else.

Battery City.

The radio buzzed from the passenger's side. Kobra's radio, he must've left it.

"...Party Poison, come in. Right now."  Worry pitched up Jet Star's voice.

Party debated it, already having trouble keeping himself together. If he talked, if he tried to explain himself, he was worried he'd lose it. When he didn't pick it up, Jet came in again with the same message, more urgently, and he knew he couldn't bring himself to ignore it. He picked up the radio.

"Here." It was quiet, pathetic even, but it was all he could manage.

"...Destroya, Party. Where are you?"

There was no choice but to be honest. He would probably need someone to come pick up the Girl, after all. He didn't plan on going home. "Battery City. They took the Girl."

A different voice cut through the static this time. "...What's wrong with you? Why would you not fucking wake me?" Kobra's voice broke.

The dam shattered. Tears burned at the edges of Party's eyes, spilled helplessly down his face. He wanted to turn around. He wanted to apologise. He wanted to go back and give his brother a proper goodbye.

He was about to emerge from the tunnels into Battery City. He had no idea what he'd find when he got in, but something told him this was it. This was the end.

Party sucked in a breath, willed his voice into something steady. "I'll get her out. Have Doc send some backup."

The radio crackled like maybe someone was going to respond, but Party turned it off and tossed it back on the seat. He dried his tears, steadied his hands on the wheel. He couldn't risk them talking him out of it. Not when he was so close. Not when he knew what had to be done.

Be brave, Party. Be who you're supposed to be.

When the car rolled into the sterile lights of Battery City, everything was as it was supposed to be. He was alone. Maverick. Singular. He was Party Poison, fearless leader, saviour of the Zones, enemy of the system, ignition to the revolution, with fire in his veins and a purpose that beat his heart.

"Party Poison, you were meant to save the world."

---

The Witch had two rules.

First, no wasting time. Sure, some would argue that she was outside of time, she could do whatever she wanted, but the truth was that she had a never-ending laundry list of souls to guide and people to talk to. Her job was much more than a full-time gig.

Second, no mourning. To take on the whole world's grief at every turn would destroy her, she was certain. It would make her sloppy, soft, tempted to try and change things, which she was not permitted to do. She could guide the actors to the script, not re-write the play.

Somehow, some way, she found herself breaking both of these rules for a certain group of Killjoys.

She'd watched the van roll up to the radio shack just as the sun began to rise. The people inside rushed out, hopes still naively high in their chests that their friend would be coming back home. Instead, the DJ in the front opened the door to reveal a lone little girl, sniffling and sobbing about all she'd just seen.

It was the bomb-maker that made it to her first, with his careful hands and drumbeat heart. The Witch saw him wrap her up, trying to still both her cries and his own as the realisation came crashing down.

And when the bomb-makers knees bucked under the weight of it all, the medic helped him keep on standing. The medic jumped straight to quiet strategy, just like he always did. He wanted to know what would happen next, how they would move forward. The Witch admired his optimism, envied it, even.

It took the Witch a moment to spot the third Killjoy she'd been looking for. The fighter was still in the doorway, eyes brimming with long-overdue tears and carefully locked onto the empty van where he felt someone else should've been. He was angry, and he would angry be for years to come.

This was the worst thing about her job, silently knowing that this was the best option while the whole rest of the world saw it as an injustice. All of the Killjoys, every one of them, felt like something had gone wrong in Battery City that night.

They would never truly know how much worse it could've been.

The hours passed but the wave of sorrow didn't. The Witch watched as they retreated inside, as they began to process. She watched the fighter storm out in the evening, chased closely by the bomb-maker. The fighter wanted to leave, to be left alone. The bomb-maker so desperately wanted him to stay. 

They shouted and sputtered and fought with all their might, but in the end the fighter left. He was supposed to. There was nothing the bomb-maker could have said. He didn't know that.

The little girl had questions, she wanted to know why. That was always the question, the Witch noticed. People wanted a reason, as if a good enough reason was enough to make a tragedy worth it. It wouldn't, the Witch knew that too well. Either way, the when the girl had spilled out her questions, it was the medic that slipped a strand of wooden beads over her hand and held her close as he admitted he didn't know why either.

The consensus was this: They felt like their world was ending. Like they were in an unbeatable fight and this was what they were doomed to, being picked off one by one until there was nothing left. Grief always had a way of making people feel irrationally hopeless, the Witch noticed.

Still, the truth was that they were wrong . The story was far from over.