Chapter Text
The trans-am sped across the Zones, and Fun Ghoul breathed a deep sigh of relief. They had somehow managed to save Party Poison from the clutches of Better Living Industries. It had seemed impossible, and yet, somehow, they had done it.
The thing that worried Ghoul was that Party seemed… different.
Ghoul had slid into the backseat with the redhead, but every time he tried to lean in or comfort the Killjoy, the tortured man would just hug his arms tigher around himself. His eyes were wide and wild, and he looked at Ghoul like he didn't recognize him.
They had saved Party Poison, but what if that wasn't who he was anymore? What if BLI…
No. There was no way. Party was strong. He had a bright spirit and a bold mind. He of all people would be able to recover from this, resist whatever BL/ind had done to him. He had to.
The silence hung thick in the air of the car, no one seeming to want to say anything. Cherri Cola had switched on the radio, but it did nothing to dull the deafening void of silence that encompassed the group.
Fun Ghoul turned his head and saw that to his shock, Kobra Kid was crying. Even behind the man's sunglasses, Ghoul could see the tears tracking down his cheeks. Ghoul understood. He wanted to cry too.
Out of joy, and out of fear.
Joy that they had their friend back. That they had saved him, that they put an end to the torture he had clearly faced at the hands of Better Living Industries.
And fear that the Killjoy they knew prior was gone.
Party Poison was shaking. He'd buried his head between his knees, curled up into a fetal position like the other men in the car were going to hurt him. It sent a spear of aching sadness into Ghoul's heart.
Ghoul wanted to wrap his arms around him, tell him everything would be alright, that everything would be okay now. But he hesitated.
He'd seen what happened last time he tried to hug Party Poison. The Killjoy had panicked, pushing against the black-haired man desperately.
Ghoul didn't want Party to be more scared than he already was.
So he opted for silence.
They all did.
Deafening, sickening silence.
Finally, finally, the diner came into view.
Maybe once he was inside, Party would remember. He'd be surrounded by a familiar place and familiar people, he'd have to remember. Ghoul knew it was improbable, but he could hope. He could hope.
Cherri Cola slowed the trans-am to a stop, and the Killjoys began to pile out of the vehicle.
Not Party, though.
He remained there, hugging himself, not even acknowledging that the car had stopped.
Kobra shot a look at Ghoul. They'd wanted to leave him alone as much as they could, seeing as how he'd reacted the last time he'd but touched, but there was really no other way to get him out of the car.
Ghoul met Kobra's eye and nodded.
He watched, tense, as the the lanky man opened Party's door and bent down towards him, slowly and carefully like one would approach a wild animal.
As soon as his hand brushed Party's skin, the redhead's trembling ceased. Not in a way like he had relaxed, though, more like he was frozen. Waiting. Preparing for what was to come.
Continuing forwards, Kobra hooked an arm around Party's shoulders and the other under his knee. It was only when the blond had lifted him slightly into the air did he stir again.
His eyes flew open, darting, wild, unseeing. His limbs jerked out, his mouth fell open, and he began to scream.
"No! No! Please, don't touch me, please! Please! Please!" The words tore themselves free of his throat, manic, agonizing. Tears flooded down his face as Kobra was forced to tighten his grip so his brother wouldn't fall.
"Please, please! I don't want you to hurt me anymore… I don't want to hurt anymore! Please!" The last word came out in a sob, somehow even more desperate than any of the other protests that had spilled from his lips.
This couldn't be real. This couldn't be Party, their Party, screaming like this. Completely shattered. Completely broken.
It was tearing Ghoul apart at the seams.
Kobra was crying again, now audible as Party's eyes glazed over and his shouts dulled to rapid muttering. Jet approached the blond man, outstretching his arms as an offer, but Kobra shook his head. He hugged his brother tightly and carried him inside.
Cherri said something to Ghoul about giving them a minute and going to talk to Dr. Death Defying, and Ghoul nodded absentmindedly. He was more focused on heading into the diner, where Kobra has laid his brother onto the couch.
His trembling from earlier had returned, and now, in the quiet of the room, Ghoul could hear what he was whispering to himself.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean to don't hurt me I'll be good I promise don't touch me please please please don't hurt don't touch me don't I'm scared please…"
It made him sick. Literally sick to his stomach. He wasn't sad anymore, he was angry. How dare Better Living Industries do this to him. How dare they be this cruel. How dare they torture someone without a second of thought until they were this broken.
Jet was the first to act. Carefully, quietly, he pulled Ghoul and Kobra away from the couch where Party lay. Deep worry lines creased his forehead, and his eyes were dark and stormy.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Kobra cut him off first.
"What do we do?" His words came out feeble, hopeless and pained.
"We keep him comfortable," Jet Star replied, voice firmer than Kobra's yet clearly masking the deep sadness he was currently feeling. "We keep him comfortable and we give him some time. He'll come around. He's Party Poison. He'll come around."
In prospect, the words were nice. Comforting, even. But Ghoul doubted they were true.
Party wouldn't get better with time. The Killjoys needed to help him, needed to save him, needed to hand him the DIrector's head on a fucking platter.
If only they knew how.
If only they knew how.