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Party Poison and Fun Ghoul fell asleep naturally this time, holding each other in their arms and praying to the Phoenix Witch to save them.
And yet, of course, nothing could stay so comforting for long.
The next time Party awoke, it was to the sound of arguing. He was once again bound to a chair, and he realized it was Korse and Ghoul who were fighting.
“I won’t fucking do it! You’re sick! You got what you wanted, now let us go!” Ghoul shouted. He once again was holding a blade, once again free from his restraints, but this time, there was one large, noticeable difference.
There was a large camera set up on a tripod just a few feet away from the group, red light flashing.
“Ah, look who’s finally waking up!” Korse said, cutting off his reply to Ghoul to greet Party instead. He gestured to the camera. “Like it? I decided this session could be a live broadcast. Everyone should know we finally have the great Party Poison in our clutches, especially those Zone Rats you hang around with. It’ll be such a treat to show them that we finally own you, am I right?”
No.
No.
This was so fucked up.
“Party,” Ghoul gasped. “He wants me to hurt you again. He says if I don’t-” he stopped short, eyebrows scrunched with worry. “He said he’d hurt you again. Worse than last time. But Party, I can’t, it hurts-”
Ah. So the soul bond did turn on Ghoul when he hurt Party. That made sense.
And Party had to protect Ghoul, no matter the cost.
“Then don’t,” Party whispered. “Don’t hurt me. It’s not worth it. Let’s show the world that that monster can’t break us. Not ever.”
“If you insist,” Korse spoke up, interrupting the conversation. He pulled the device from earlier out of his pocket, and began fidgeting with a dial attached to its side. “Ghoul, now’s your chance. Save Party from his fate. It’s a simple solution.”
Ghoul looked torn, his fist that clenched the knife hovering in the air as he contemplated what to do. He met Party’s eyes, and the redhead gave him a brief, certain head shake no.
The knife slipped from Ghoul’s grasp, clattering to the floor.
“Well,” Korse grinned. “If that’s the choice you’d like to make.”
He pressed the taser to Party’s neck and turned it on.
—--
“This is so fucked up,” Kobra gasped, watching as Korse fidgeted with a small metal device in his hand. Dr. Death Defying had sent them a message on the radio, telling them to come to the shack; he had info about Party and Ghoul.
Jet Star and Kobra Kid rushed over, to find a television displaying Korse, Ghoul, and Party in a white room, Party tied crudely to his chair while Fun Ghoul and Korse argued.
Dr. D explained what Korse had said about experimenting with the men’s soul bond, and they watched as Party woke up.
They watched as he noticed the camera.
They watched as he refused to let Ghoul hurt him.
They watched as Korse readied the device.
And they watched as he activated it.
Party screamed, a primal, ungodly sound erupting deep from his chest as he began to convulse. Foam formed at his lips and the skin around his restraints opened and began to bleed from his desperate yanking.
Kobra let out a sob, unable to bear watching his brother be tortured. He wanted to turn the television off, to flee from the shack and run as far away from the broadcast as he could, but he knew that for Party’s sake, he had to bear it.
Maybe it would give the Killjoys a clue on how to save them.
Korse pulled back abruptly. Releasing Party from the agonizing electricity. The redhead slumped forwards, chest heaving, as he attempted to collect himself.
“Cut him,” came the man’s grainy voice through the screen. “Do it, or I can make everything so much worse for him.”
“No,” Ghoul replied, his voice trembling. “He told me not to. And I will never ignore a direct order from my leader.”
Korse laughed, the sound loud and obnoxious. “Neither will I.”
He picked up the knife from the floor and drove it into Party’s stomach.