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“How are we going to manage this?” Ghoul asked, adjusting his mask. Kobra Kid, Jet Star, and Fun Ghoul were standing, hidden on a random street in the city. They were laden down with guns and other weapons that they hoped they wouldn’t have to use.
“We’re going to be fucking smart about it, that’s how,” Kobra stated. “BLI is going to have Party under lock and key, we have to wait for the right moment when they take him out.”
A collective shudder passed through the group at the thought.
A few days ago the remaining Killjoys had received word from Dr. Death Defying. He told them that BL/ind had put out an ad stating that Party Poison was going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. The news obviously wasn’t meant to spread to the Zones, but Party was a very high-class target. It was a wonder the whole world hadn’t heard about it.
The Killjoys had been looking for their friend for months. He’d disappeared on a supply run one day without a trace, and the group had been sick with worry since. It was a slight comfort to hear his whereabouts, but the circumstances were more terrifying than not. What had BLI done to him that they were simply willing to auction him off now? How much experimentation had they done that he was simply considered a trophy and nothing more?
They had to find out.
They had to stop it.
Dr. D helped them come up with a plan. It wasn’t foolproof, and it definitely wasn’t safe, but it was something. It was their only shot.
The three Killjoys stalked through the streets, carefully heading towards BL/ind headquarters. In the distance, they could hear murmurs, voices growing as people gathered to watch the auction.
And then the main square came into view.
It was packed with people. In a regular world, the place would be crazy, with people shoving and shouting and pushing to get a closer look, but all the citizens stood still and solemn. Clearly, the effects of the pills were still strong.
The air was suddenly split with a loud crackle that echoed through the area, before a voice flooded the square.
“Thank you all for coming out today to witness the auction of the dangerous Killjoy, Party Poison.”
The people looked upwards, silent, as tension buzzed through the air.
“We all know how much trouble he’s caused Better Living Industries over the years. Vandalism, thievery, even murder. Once he is in your possession, you may do with him what you like. We have ensured that he will behave, we would not allow him free if we were not one hundred percent certain of his obedience.”
Ghoul’s stomach twisted at the cruel words. Obedience? Party wasn’t fucking obedient. He was a burning star, an honorable ‘joy who’d never let his situation get the better of him. If he was listening to BLI, following their orders…
“Now, if everyone would please turn their eyes forward, we will present Party Poison and begin the auction.”
Everyone shifted, their eyes staring towards a platform that sat high above the crowd. Carefully and slowly, the Killjoys moved towards it, making sure to stay subtle. They had to get close. If they blew their cover first, it was over.
Footsteps began to echo loudly through the square as someone climbed the stairs on the other side of the platform. Soon, two Dracs emerged on top of the stage.
They were carrying something, something very large. They set it down with an audible thud just as the Killjoys managed to get to the front of the crowd. They stayed to the side, just out of eyesight,, but now they were close enough that they could see every detail of what was happening up there.
The large object was covered in a white sheet, which the Dracs theatrically whipped off to reveal the gleaming iron bars of a cage.
And in that cage was Party Poison.
He was curled up in the corner, trembling, so much thinner than he had been a few months ago. His skin was so, so pale, besides the bright purple bruises that bloomed across his arms and legs. His typical outfit that he prided himself on so much had been replaced by white garments that hung off his feeble frame.
The only thing that made the man even slightly recognizable was his bright red hair.
Ghoul wanted to vomit. He wanted to storm right up on that stage and blow out the brains of anyone who had hurt Party, any one who had put him through this torture.
But he couldn’t.
He had to stay hidden.
No matter how much it hurt.
The Dracs opened the cage and looped their hands until his arms, dragging him out of the box and forcing to kneel in front of the crowd.
Fun Ghoul could see Party’s face now. His eyes, which used to burn so brightly and boldly, were missing their spark. They were dead and dull, hope of rescue long gone.
Ghoul wished the man knew his friends were right there, in the crowd, just waiting for the right moment to step in and save him.
But he couldn’t blow their cover.
“We’ll start the bidding at 500 carbons,” the loudspeaker said, and suddenly the crowd was off, shouting prices and raising paddles as the price climbed higher and higher.
“Do we do it now?” Jet asked, voice hushed, but Kobra shook his head.
“No. There’s too many people, everyone will see us the moment we get on that stage. I think we have to wait until the bidding’s over to grab him.” Kobra’s voice was tight, and Ghoul could tell the thought of leaving Party up there, helpless, for any longer was making him sick.
The bids continued, and the Killjoys waited. And waited. And waited. The crowd was quieting, more and more people falling silent as the price for Party climbed out of their budgets.
“One million carbons!” a man suddenly shouted, and the square fell silent.
The man was tall and intimidating, his uniform stamped with the mark of an Exterminator.
Ghoul recognized him instantly.
Korse.
That fucker.
For the first time since he had been put up on that stage, something real flashed behind Party’s sunken eyes. A jolt of fear, brief, yet all-consuming.
Ghoul couldn’t let Korse take him.
Ignoring Kobra and Jet’s panicked shouts, Fun Ghoul rushed forwards. He drew his ray gun and fired at the Dracs in front of the stage. He scrambled on to the platform, continuing to fire as he ran towards Party.
He fell to his knees next to the redhead, wrapping his arms around the Killjoy and holding him tight.
But Party didn’t respond like Ghoul thought he would. Ghoul expected him to smile, to be happy, to leap into Ghoul’s arms the moment he was free.
Instead, he was crying.
And shaking.
His weak arms pushed against Ghoul, trying desperately to get him off, get him away.
In an instant, two Dracs had grabbed hold of the black haired Killjoy. They were dragging him across the stage as he shouted, down the steps and towards the fucking Exterminator, Korse.
He could see Kobra and Jet in the crowd, clearly debating whether or not they should step in, and he shook his head at them. This was his fault. He had gotten himself caught like this. So he would deal with the consequences.
The Dracs pushed him down until he was kneeling in front of the Scarecrow. He refused to cower, though, glaring up at the bald motherfucker with the most lethal glare he could muster.
His anger had no effect on Korse, though. The Exterminator simply leaned down and whispered one cruel sentence into his ear; “Don’t touch my prize, Fun Ghoul. That Killjoy belongs to me.”
A shudder passed through Ghoul’s body as Korse straightened again, turning his cold gaze to the Draculoids holding the ‘joy in place.
“Take him away.”
Ghoul was yanked to his feet, his feet scraping the ground as the Dracs began to carry him away.
No.
No!
With one last jolt of energy, Ghoul hooked his leg around one of the Dracs’ knees, pulling it out from under him and causing his captor to lose his balance. They tumbled to the ground, and Ghoul quickly snatched one of their ray guns. In an instant, he had shot them both dead, and he turned. He fired a blast towards Korse, and, due to the man’s unpreparedness and shock, was caught in the stomach and collapsed.
He watched Jet Star and Kobra rushed to Party, dropping down next to him and talking to him in hushed tones. The redhead seemed to have the same frightened reaction to them as he did to Fun Ghoul, and it made the Killjoy sick to his stomach.
What did they do to you, Party?
Ghoul wanted to run over, to join them all on the floor, but he couldn’t. The rest of his group was still vulnerable. He had to protect them.
“You guys!” he shouted, continuing to shoot at anyone who tried to advance. “We need to fucking go!”
The other two got the message, looping their arms around the shaking redhead’s shoulder and pulling him to his feet. They shoved through the crowd, taking advantage of the fact that the emotionless citizens were doing nothing to stop their escape, and they ducked into the nearest alleyway with Ghoul just behind them.
Sirens flooded the streets, and he could hear footsteps behind him. They were going to get caught. It was inevitable.
Just a little further.
That was when Ghoul saw it.
The trans-am, parked in the street, Cherri Cola at the wheel. He was beckoning them over, hands waving frantically as he turned the key in the engine.
The Killjoys threw themselves at the vehicle, piling inside haphazardly. Cherri stomped on the gas pedal, not even bothering to greet them. They flew through the streets, until the gates of the City finally came into view.
Just a little further.
Cherri floored the gas pedal, pushing the car to its maximum speed, and they plowed through the gates. The wiry bars opened due to their sheer speed and velocity at impact, and soon they were soaring across desert sands, the clean dullness of the City but a memory.
They were safe.
And they had Party Poison.
And that was all that mattered.