Chapter Text
Living in the desert was dangerous, there was no question about that. Killjoys died every day. It was just a fact of desert life. Death was inevitable and the sooner you got over that the sooner you could keep your head on straight and do what needed to be done. There was always a new list of dead to be mourned. Still, a stupid part of Fun Ghoul had assumed that when the time finally came for one of them to get dusted it would be all of them at once. They were the fabulous four, they were a team, where one of them went the others followed. If one of them went down they all went down, it was as simple as that.
Simple as the concept was, that's not what happened.
What happened was simple in a way. It was an ambush, one that the four never saw coming. There were ray gun blasts flying every way and more Dracs than Fun Ghoul could keep an eye on. They were fast, they were tough, but it wasn’t going to be enough and that was becoming clear. To make it all worse, Korse was there, because of course he was. They were outnumbered and overwhelmed. They were going to die. At least they were going to die together. That felt right.
When Fun Ghoul thinks back on that day and the ambush it’s with an overwhelming wave of grief. He could go into the gritty details, how they’d dusted Drac after Drac, how Kobra got hit in the shoulder and let out a pained cry that was enough to gain his siblings attention. How once Party, their leader, lost focus it all went downhill. Fun Ghoul could tell you all about how Party was hit in the wrist by a ray gun blast, how he’d run to help. Of course he ran to help, Party was his partner and he needed to help him. But running was stupid. He wasn’t watching his back, he was distracting Party, he was making things worse. The animal part of his brain didn’t let him think of that though, it just let him think about protecting the people important to him.
He could tell you how the battle went the same way it was always going to go. How Korse got the upper hand, got Party Poison and got away. He could tell you how he’d seen the bright light of the ray gun blast that Korse leveled at Party, how he had seen the love of his life fall limp. He could tell you how he screamed and cried, how Jet had needed to pull Ghoul and Kobra away from the scene and to the Trans Am while Korse was still distracted by his victory. Ghoul still didn’t know how Jet could function, he felt like a piece of him died with Party Poison. He could tell you a lot about that day but he wouldn’t. He didn’t talk about that day. He couldn’t, not if he wanted to stay sane.
He’d lost people before, everyone in the zones had. But losing Party felt so much more real and raw than the other losses he’d faced. Every time he tried to think of the good times they shared he saw that same arc of energy and saw Party Poison falling limp. Every time he recalled the memory he felt the same wave of despair and the tears that felt like they never stopped. Without Party their team was a mess, hardly even a team. He hadn’t seen Kobra in days but he heard him, heard the angry screaming noises, the frantic pacing and running and the sound of hitting that he knew was Kobra punching the walls hard enough to split his knuckles and make them bleed. He knew that all of those noises meant that Kobra was feeling something too big for himself and needed an outlet. Usually Party would help him calm down but that wasn’t an option. Party wasn’t here and they would never be here again. The thought kept Fun Ghoul in their bed, the sheets still faintly smelled like Party Poison, that mix of smoke and skin that he always used to complain about. Now Fun Ghoul knew that the moment it faded he’d lose one more piece of himself.
He was half sure the only reason that he was still alive was Jet Star. It was unfair really, Jet had known Party Poison longer than Fun Ghoul had and Ghoul knew they’d been close and yet he was keeping it together enough to take care of Ghoul and Kobra. Destroya knows someone needed to. Poor Jet Star, always so self sacrificing, always the caregiver. If Fun Ghoul was a stronger man he would step in and give his friend a break but right now he just felt so broken that he couldn’t move.
“Get up Ghoul.” Jet chides him, standing in the doorway to the room that Ghoul used to share with Party Poison. He didn’t even notice him approaching. The room is dark and it smells, Ghoul is mature enough to admit that. It’s hot as hell in the diner and he’s sweated through the sheets 12 times over but he just doesn’t care. He doesn’t care enough to wash his clothes or the sheets. Besides, the sheets still faintly smell like Party Poison, if he shuts his eyes and zones out just a little he can pretend like it’s any other desert night and Party is just out on watch. It’s gross and he knows it, he just can’t bring himself to give a shit. “Seriously Ghoul, this isn’t healthy you need to get up and do something.”
“Fuck off.” Is all Ghoul can manage. It’s childish and stupid but it’s all he’s got in him. It lacks his usual bite. He feels empty. He might still be alive, but a part of him died with Party Poison.
“No. I’m not letting you keep doing this to yourself. You aren’t eating, you aren’t moving. I’m not going to let you just kill yourself like this.” Jet’s voice is strained. This is hard for him, Ghoul can tell. It’s not fair to fight him like this but he needs a target. The mean part of Ghoul knows that Jet won’t fight back. He never fights back. Not against them. He’s too good. Too caring.
“Don’t act like you get it.” Ghoul bites out.
Jet’s brows furrow. “I lost them too, you know.” He points out, his voice so quiet yet so sad. “We all lost them.”
“Kobra was their brother. We were together. It’s different for us.” Ghoul knows that he’s being an asshole but he can’t stop. He hurts so much and it feels like the only way to get rid of some of the pain in his chest is to hurt someone back. It’s not Jet’s fault but he’s here and Ghoul feels so broken.
“Fuck you, Ghoul.” Jet takes a step back. “Fine. Sit in your sadness forever. Have fun finding your own dinner.” Ghoul should feel worse about being such an asshole to one of the only friends he has left but he just feels numb.
He lays in bed feeling numb for what might be hours. Party Poison covered all the windows back when he used to share this room with Ghoul so he can’t track the rising and setting of the sun to tell the time. His only measure of time is when Jet Star brings him meals, but true to this threat he doesn’t. For the first time since the ambush Ghoul is left well and truly alone. Fun Ghoul doesn’t care. He can hardly feel the hunger. In fact he almost feels sick. The roiling in his stomach continues for what feels like an eternity until Ghoul is certain that he’s going to hurl and has to rush out of the bedroom and the diner to avoid making a mess that he knows he won’t have the energy to clean up. He runs out into the sand, it’s night, the blue black sky reflects back at him as he heaves into the sand, leaving a pile of sick. It’s weird, he hadn’t felt sick earlier in the day and he’s hardly eaten since losing Party. Maybe he caught something, or it’s a weird grief thing making his body manifest his hurt as a physical sickness.
“Shit, you alright?” It’s the first time that Ghoul has come face-to-face with Kobra Kid in what’s probably weeks. Days have started to blur together but he would wager that it’s been about 2 weeks since they lost Party Poison. He feels instantly guilty when he sees just how harrowed Kobra looks. Kobra is the youngest of all of them, and while that doesn’t mean that he’s fragile by any means Ghoul knows how close he was to Party. They were inseparable, losing them has deeply affected Kobra and it shows. Ghoul suspects that he looks just as crappy right now, even more so now that he’s sick. He nods, rising up as he wipes his mouth. He no longer feels sick at least. Maybe it really was something that he ate.
They all eat the same thing though and Kobra and Jet haven’t gotten sick yet. Ghoul doesn’t know what to think of that.
“Just sick I guess.” Ghoul shrugs. He looks up. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out here.” He missed the night sky, he realizes that now. For days his whole world has been his room and he hadn’t even noticed how much he was missing the desert air.
“Yeah. Heard you were holing yourself up.” Kobra said bluntly. “Sorry for not stopping by. Going to your room…felt like too much.” Ghoul gets him instantly. It was Party’s room too. Of course Kobra didn’t want to see the space that his brother used to live in.
“No hard feelings. It’s not like I tried to see you much either.” Ghoul says by way of apology. They lapse into silence. He wants to bring up Party, yet at the same time wants nothing more than to pretend like things haven’t changed between them. Instead of bringing up their shared grief he asks, “Have you seen Jet Star? I owe him an apology.”
Kobra groans, “Don’t tell me you’ve been being an asshole to him too.”
Ghoul shrugs, “I’m kinda always an asshole in case you didn’t notice.” a raised brow from Kobra makes him continue, “But I have been being more of an asshole to usual. He was just looking out for me.”
“He’s good like that.” hearing that reminder just makes Ghoul feels worse. Jet has been making sure that he and Kobra stay fed and alive and Ghoul has been repaying him with insults.
“Yeah I’ll apologize to him in the morning.” Ghoul says. He and Kobra stay there, silently standing in the dark and avoiding the topic that both of them clearly have on their mind. He likes that about Kobra. He doesn’t need to talk to understand him. It used to feel like that with Party. Just remembering that hurts like he’d just lost them all over again. Kobra leaves at some point, not back to the diner. Ghoul would guess that he’s going to keep wandering. It helps, when he’s overwhelmed like this. Ghoul decides to try and get some sleep. He goes back to his dirty room and resolves himself to clean it up tomorrow. He can’t keep living like this. Jet is right.
He doesn’t sleep for long, he waves up to another wave of nausea and has to leave the diner to avoid making a mess once again. It’s certainly a way to wake up. They’re going to have to check and make sure that the food they’ve been eating isn’t bad somehow. Though once again it doesn’t make sense that Ghoul is the only one getting sick right now. He isn’t alone for long. Jet joins him, wiping sleep out of his eyes. Ghoul wonders if his sickness woke him up.
“Sorry.” He gasps out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Jet just rubs his back silently. He’s not even mad. Somehow that makes Ghoul feel worse. Once he feels better he stands up, wiping his mouth and feeling generally gross. “We should check the food. This is the second time I got sick.”
Jet nods, “Staying in that room so long isn’t healthy. Maybe this is just your body letting you know.”
Ghoul shrugs. “Maybe. I bet you’re right.” He’s quiet for a moment before quickly rushing out, “I’m sorry you know. I didn’t mean it when I said that Kobra and I were struggling more. It wasn’t true and I know that. We all lost Party. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”
“You’re grieving.” Jet Star rubs his back again.
“So are you.” Jet doesn’t respond. “What are we going to do without him?” It’s a question that’s been on Ghoul’s mind since they got back to the diner without their leader. Party always knew what to do and without him Ghoul felt lost. He’s never voiced it but a part of him feels like without Party, Jet has become the de facto leader.
“We keep moving forward.” Jet says sadly. “It’s what he would want.
“I don’t know how to move forward.” Ghoul admits.
“Neither do I. But we have to. For Kobra. For Party.” Jet sighs. “I don’t want to but we have to.”
________
Miles away Party Poison wakes up in the same dirty cell he’s been in for what feels like an eternity. His eyes are bleary and he doesn’t know what day it is. He’s been here for so long and been so hopped up on the drugs that BLI pumps into his system that it could have been months or years for all he knew. The only think that breaks him from the monotony of his days is Korse’s visits. He’s trying to break Party Poison’s mind and as much as Party Poison hates to admit it, it might be working. He’s losing things. He’s already lost Ghoul’s laugh, Jet’s smile and Kobra’s joking voice. He’s sure that he’s lost more, he just doesn’t remember that he’s lost it.
Once again Korse comes to visit him. “Fuck off.” Party says. They’re trying to stay strong, trying to stay themselves. They refuse to be brainwashed, refuse to become a Drac. He would rather die than become a part of BLI and their sick goals. “Just kill me already.”
“And let you join your little team?” Korse mocks. “I think not.”
Party’s heart sinks. He doesn’t remember his crew dying but Korse is always so willing to regale him with the tale.
“The little one called out for you before he went. Did I already tell you that?” Korse had. He liked to torment Party with the way his team died waiting for his rescue. How Jet was shot trying to pull Kobra away when Party was capture, how Kobra rushed to try and get to Party and got dusted because of it. How Ghoul was left alone, how he couldn’t escape, how he called out for Party to save him before the Dracs got him. Party doesn’t remember it but he can see the scene so well in his mind. His team. His family. All gone.
“You won’t break me.” Party stayed strong in his resolve. He wouldn’t break. He wouldn’t give Korse that satisfaction. He could keep his mind at the very least.
“Oh, I will.” Korse smiles that ugly, mean smile. “We’re going to learn a whole lot from taking you apart.”