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Party blinked awake slowly, mind still hazy. The last thing he could remember was the sound of gunfire and shouting, and then darkness took over everything else.
What had happened? Where was he?
He tried to focus, but the bright white of the room he was in pierced into his skull, scattering his thoughts and making it impossible for him to concentrate enough to remember anything at all.
The walls were white, the floor was white, the ceiling was white.
He tried to stand, and that was when he discovered he was bound to the surface he was laying upon.
Handcuffs restrained his wrists, but the rest of him was bound crudely with thick rope-
That was also white.
Ah.
Of course.
Well, it was only a matter of time before Better Living Industries caught him, wasn’t it? Party just hoped he had managed to protect the rest of his team in the process.
He knew what BLI wanted from him, and he was terrified of what they would do to get the information they wanted.
And if they had Ghoul…
His thoughts were interrupted with a click as someone entered the room. Party instantly recognized the man.
It was motherfucking Korse.
Shit.
He knew this man. Everyone in the Zones knew and feared his name. Korse was known for taking Killjoys and breaking them. Utterly destroying their spirits. Ruining them until they’re simply compliant, broken bits of BL/ind property.
Party Poison was fucked.
“Ah, so I see we’ve finally captured the famous Party Poison, haven’t we?” the man cooed, voice sickeningly sweet, like barbed wire coated in honey. “I can’t wait for you to see what I have planned.”
Party’s breath hitched as the man produced a syringe tipped with a long needle at the end of it. He tried to open his mouth, tried to speak, but he couldn’t make a sound.
Korse leaned over him, positing the needle against the redhead's neck. “You just behave, and remember, no one can hear your screams.”
And with that, he emptied the contents of the syringe into Party’s neck.
The Killjoy began to panic as he felt cool numbness flow through him, making his limbs heavy. He tried to keep his eyes open, focusing as hard as he could, but the drugs were too strong.
Party’s eyes closed, his mind fuzzy, and he slipped away into forced unconsciousness.
—---
The next time Party Poison woke up, he was strapped to a chair. He was yanking against his restraints before he could even see straight, knowing that every single second he was awake counted.
As his vision cleared, he noticed that he was not alone. There was someone sitting across from him, strapped to a chair just like he was.
His heart stopped as he realized who it was.
Ghoul was slumped forwards, black hair hanging in a curtain over his face, mostly unconscious but beginning to stir. His clothes were tattered and dirty, and Party was glad to see they hadn’t taken those from him, at least.
“Ghoul?” Party whispered, watching as the man groggily raised his head, blinking rapidly. His eyes focused on Party, and his mouth dropped open wide.
“Shit, Party, shit,” he gasped, his tired tongue stumbling over the words. “I thought they only got me. I hoped…” His eyes were filled with tears. “I hoped you were safe.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Party choked out, even though he didn’t agree with his words in the slightest. He should be the one protecting Ghoul, not the other way around. “We need to get you out of here-”
His sentence was cut off by a deep, mocking laugh.
Korse.
Party hadn’t noticed him enter the room.
“And how do you expect to do that, Party?” he spat, glaring at the two Killjoys. “We own you now. Which means we can do whatever we want with you.”
“Speaking of doing whatever we want…” He held up a knife that he had been clutching at his side and took a step closer.
“No, fuck, no, you keep that shit away from me!” Party yelled, trying to keep the quiver of fear out of his voice. He threw himself against his restraints, feeling the ropes burn, but unable to bring himself to care. He could see Ghoul begin to do the same out of the corner of his eye.
Party watched in horror as Korse advanced, grabbing Ghoul’s shoulder’s, raising the knife, and-
Slicing through the man’s bonds.
Both Killjoys froze, shocked, and Party continued to stare as Korse pressed the blade into Ghoul’s hand.
“Soul bonds are fickle things, aren’t they?” Korse said, taking advantage of their stunned silence and speaking. “One of BLI’s biggest questions has always been, ‘What would happen if one person in a soul bond hurt the other?’ My first task is to figure out an answer to that question.” He turned to Ghoul. “You’re going to cut him.”
“And why the fuck would I do that?” Ghoul protested, his voice seething with anger. “Why wouldn’t I cut you instead?”
“Because,” Korse laughed, “If you don’t hurt him, I’ll hurt him worse. I’ll torture him. I’ll make him scream. And I’ll make you watch every second of it.”
Party Poison couldn’t talk. He couldn’t move. He knew Korse was evil, he knew he was cruel, but this was unbelievable.
And he was so, so scared.
“The clock’s ticking, Fun Ghoul,” Korse said, and his voice sounded almost giddy. “You have five seconds to cut him before my plan starts.” He pulled a strange device from his pocket and lifted it to Party’s neck.
The redhead could hardly breathe. His mind was entirely fixed on the cool metal pressed firmly to his skin.
“Five… four… three… two… one.”
The Killjoy heard a click, and he was left only a moment to register what it could be before his body lit up with white-hot electricity.
His skin was burning, his flesh melting, and he could dimly hear himself screaming.
He couldn’t take it.
He was going to die.
Party could feel himself fading, his consciousness trickling away as his mind scrambled for shelter from this attack.
Then, as abruptly as it had come, he felt the electricity stop.
The burning left him, but the pain remained; a constant throb that left him shaking and weak.
His eyes drifted across the way to see Fun Ghoul slumped over, arms clutching his stomach, fingers wrapped tightly around a blade dripping with blood.
Party’s blood.
He wanted to comfort Ghoul, wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, but he had barely opened his mouth to speak before he felt the sharp tip of a needle slide into his neck.
And again, he succumbed to sleep.