Danger Days- Party Poison
Title: Danger Days- The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys
Author: 6_pack_apathy
Pairing: Gerard/Ray Mikey/Frank
Rating: R
POV: 3rd- Gerard-centric
Summary: Our fabulous Killjoys discover that art is the weapon and use it to take down Better Living Industries
Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction, none of the characters or events are true.
Author's Note: I thought I'd have this out faster so I'm sorry that it took a while but hopefully it'll be worth the wait
Warnings: language, violence, sex
Previous Chapters:
Prologue- Look Alive, Sunshine
Chapter One- Art is the Weapon
Chapter Two- Bullet Proof Heart
Chapter Three- S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W
Chapter Four- The Kids From Yesterday
Chapter Five- Vampire Money
Chapter Six- Planetary GO!
07
When the Killjoys first moved into the fuckyou house Gerard was shocked to discover that it wasn’t a house at all but a small 1950’s style diner. Other than a thin layer of sand and dust it looked like it was in perfect condition yet there was nothing near it for miles. There were gas pumps out front that Ghoul claimed would work as soon as they turned on the generators. The kitchen was stocked with canned beans from BL. The only thing that could’ve made the place better was beds or maybe blinds over the windows.
“How is this place just… empty?” Gerard asked.
Jet Star shot Ghoul a look before leading his daughter to the bathroom. Ghoul waited until both were gone. “Ghosted the tumbleweeds before us,” he said quietly.
“When did that happen?”
“D’s got more than just Killjoys running the zones - same-face those motorbabies yesterday? Hopping on D’s static, man. Plenty of rock n’ rollers will dust a tumbleweed for the Killjoys.”
Gerard had absolutely nothing to say in response. His eyebrows stitched together and his thin lips curled down. “Okay,” he grabbed Ghoul’s arm, “you’re going to tell me what the fuck you’re saying right now!” He pulled Ghoul down into a booth with him. Kobra paused for a second before sitting next to Fun Ghoul.
“What’s to guess?” Ghoul asked.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying!” Gerard cried, exasperated. “I don’t know what you’re saying and I wont ever get it unless you explain it to me. Like same-face what does that mean?”
Ghoul had to stroke his chin for a second while he searched for the words. “It’s like… uh, something’s the same? You eye - see - a face and you always see the face so…”
“It means to remember or memorize or learn something,” Kobra cut in with a sympathetic look towards Ghoul who seemed to really be struggling to explain.
“How do you know that?” Gerard’s tone was as flat and blank as his expression.
“It’s not that hard to pick up once you’ve heard it a few times.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Gerard mumbled quietly. “So crashqueens, motorbabies, and tumbleweeds are all people but what’s the difference between them?”
From the opposite end of the diner Jet Star cut in, saving Ghoul the hassle of trying to speak English. “Tumbleweeds are basically everybody out in the desert, motorbabies are the ones with cars who zone hop, and crashqueens are people who stay put in towns or safehouses.” He slid onto the seat next to Gerard while watching his daughter spin on one of the barstools. “Maybe,” he said thoughtfully as he turned his head toward Gerard, “you should play the strong silent type until you get this figured out. You really will catch onto it eventually. If you try and put a set definition on a word it’s just going to trip you up.”
“I wouldn’t have been tripped up in Battery City if you hadn’t blown it first,” Gerard snapped. He still didn’t trust Jet Star and he wasn’t going to until the fucker proved that he was worthy of it. It was understandable that he had to do some bad shit to keep his cover in Battery City, but he was pretty much in charge. All those increasingly oppressive laws… he could’ve stopped them from ever happening. Those people he’d sentenced to death by leaving from the south… It was unnecessary.
Jet’s lips pressed against each other to form a thin line. His nostrils flared and it looked like he was doing a mental count to ten to avoid getting too angry. “I thought Kobra was going to kill Grace. I feel like you can understand botching a plan for the sake of a loved one.” He glanced at Kobra and bowed his head. “No offense,” he added.
“None taken,” replied a baffled Kobra.
A week after they’d arrived Show Pony showed up in the beat up brown van.
“I can’t stay long,” he said after smothering Jet and Ghoul with hugs and affection. His arm was still in a sling and he was still wearing his ‘Cherri Cola’ outfit with the blue helmet.
The more Gerard looked at him, the more he was able to realize that Show Pony was in fact a man. The broad shoulders and straight torso should’ve been a dead give away from the beginning.
“Quit looking at me like that!” Pony shrieked. He threw several bottles at Gerard who fumbled to catch them.
“What are these?” Gerard asked while inspecting them.
“Hair dye for you and Kobra. You two need to change it up before Korse realizes who you are and posts up bounty posters. I figured you’d want to go Party Poison red - there’s a few colors for Kobra to choose from.” Pony wasn’t looking at him, instead he was skating over to Grace and flinging clothes at her while spinning in circles.
Grace was giggling and crawling on the floor to pick up the outfit that was now scattered across half the diner. Gerard didn’t fail to notice that one of the items was a solar cell jacket - just like the rest of them wore.
As Jet Star was helping his daughter pick up Pony’s mess and giving him a warm thank you, Show Pony skated back over to Gerard. “I’ve got a couple of other things in the van for you guys and a special present just for you - Mr. Artist,” he slid his index finger across Gerard’s chest as he skated by. Gerard didn’t really know how to take the contact. Something about Pony’s flamboyancy made him feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he had a problem with gay people; hell, his brother used to be quite the queen back in the day and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t made out with his fair share of men back in college.
It was probably just the casual contact. Sure, Ghoul would try to make moves on Kobra all the time and Jet slept with Grace cuddled close against his chest every night. It just felt weird for anyone to touch him. In honesty, the change between Mikey and Kobra Kid was so drastic that it was easy for Gerard to think of him strictly as the Kobra Kid but try as he might to adjust and keep his cool Gerard still just felt like Gerard. What Raymond had said to him after the rescue mission stuck with him. He was no Party Poison.
“Yoo Hoo! Anybody home?” Gerard blinked and came back from his thoughts. Show Pony was in his face and the boy’s arms were full again; this time with an old boom box, a remote like the one he used to open the Eastern gate, and lots of paint. Apparently Gerard’s staring made Pony feel awkward. He shuffled back and forth on his skates. “You guys aren’t going to have anything big to do for a while aside from a few sweeps. I remember you said you were an artist so I thought… The world needs more color.”
Eyes still wide, Gerard just kept staring at the bright blues and reds and yellows in Show Pony’s arms. “Th-Thank you,” he finally sputtered.
Show Pony gave a nod and dropped everything unceremoniously on the table top in front of Gerard then started to skate backwards toward the exit. “I’ve gotta go, the fewer passerby’s that see me the better. Listen to the static, D will let you know what to do.”
As Gerard watched Pony try to skate over the uneven and cracked cement outside he quietly wondered aloud, “I wonder why he skates everywhere? It’d be a lot easier to walk…”
Jet Star, who was nearly done helping Grace change into her new outfit turned to look over his shoulder at Gerard. “Pony said he was going to stay on wheels as long as Dr. D does.”
Several days after that and Gerard and Kobra both looked like different people. Kobra’s hair was bleached out to an almost white color and Gerard’s was a very bright red. They’d done a sweep the day before and returned with two motorcycles from a couple of Drac’s who tried to follow them back to the diner. Ghoul and Jet had been the ones to pull the trigger. Gerard and Kobra had still yet to kill anyone and Jet Star seemed adamant about it staying that way unless absolutely necessary.
Anyways, the motorcycles allowed them to divide up the sweeps and keep two Killjoys at the diner to watch after Grace. Gerard had opted to stay behind with Jet Star. No way was he going to leave his brother alone with the bastard. He’d seemed upset enough that Gerard and brought Kobra with him into the desert, it would really suck if his brother was murdered for being an inconvenience. Besides, Kobra seemed to enjoy spending an increasing amount of time with Fun Ghoul and while Gerard still didn’t want to see it, he was happy that his brother was happy.
“I’m bored,” Gerard whined after the third hour of being cooped up alone with Jet Star and Grace. They’d given grace the old radio and told her that it was her job to listen for any news from Dr. Death-Defy. It seemed like even she was picking up jabber more quickly than Gerard was.
Watching Grace clutch the radio to her chest and adjust the tuner after every step she took was cute for a while, but Dr. D wasn’t broadcasting so much these past few days which meant Gerard was left with nothing but ear splitting static and a man he hated.
“You should figure out a helmet. Decorate it or some shit so you’ll actually wear one,” Jet Star said. He was stretched across a booth on the other side of the diner, calmly moving his thumbs over the worn out solar cells of the jacket draped across his lap.
“I don’t have to wear a helmet,” Gerard replied snidely, “the radiation doesn’t hurt me.”
“You’re an idiot,” the older man groaned. “It’s not just for keeping the heat outta your lungs. There’s protecting your identity - and before you go off about your fucking hair, it would be easier to get back into Battery City in the future if they don’t have your face at all. There’s dust mouth, you do not want dust mouth. Oh and what about the hotter zones? Just because you don’t get throat irritations doesn’t mean you can’t melt your lungs.”
“Jesus fuck! Fine. I’ll figure out a mask but I fucking hate the helmets, I’ll figure out something else later.”
A napkin flew at Gerard’s head. “Don’t fuckin’ swear in front of the kid!”
Two weeks later and Gerard had killed his first Drac. He and Ghoul were patrolling the desert together when the Drac’s started swarming out of nowhere. A lot of them were on foot, which was strange. They must’ve started to realize that there was a bigger threat than some angry motorbabies.
Ordinarily, Jet Star or Fun Ghoul would take care of things. Kobra and Gerard could step in if they were really needed but Jet was very serious about keeping blood off their hands. Today it was unavoidable, they’d never seen more than four Drac’s together since they rescued Jet and Grace, there were easily twenty of them on bikes and on foot.
Ghoul was firing off but the Drac’s were ready and shooting back just as quickly. Gerard was gunning it out of there. It was hopefully less than a minute but felt much longer before he realized that Ghoul wasn’t with him. He cut a donut and followed his trail over a dune.
The younger Killjoy was off his bike, monster mask pulled over his mouth but still concealing his face, firing shot after shot at the Drac’s closing in on him. The closer they got the faster Ghoul shot and the worse his accuracy became. Before Gerard even realized what he was doing, he was off his bike and running with his gun out and charged. He killed one of them with his first shot but he didn’t even realize until the third one went down.
“Ghoul, we’ve got to go!”
Fuck the second bike, they could steal another one later. Gerard sprinted through the sand, now thankful for the goggles and scarf Jet had started making him wear. He hopped on the bike and after a few tries got it going. Ghoul made it onto the back, gun still blazing, just before Gerard sped off.
The whole ordeal had been maybe ten minutes but Gerard drove in large loops for over an hour to make sure they weren’t being followed before heading back. There’d been four left standing by his count.
When they got back to the diner Ghoul was ripping off his mask while Gerard was doing the same with the goggles. Kobra was running outside to meet them. “Where the fuck’s the other bike?” He saw the expressions on their faces. “Holy shit what happened?”
Neither spoke until they were inside. Ghoul dropped down into one of the dinner booths, slamming his latex mask on the table at the same time. “Shit went Costa Rica. Dracs crawlin all over the fuckin place. Should’ve carried goddamn electric sheep today.”
Gerard was sitting down slowly across from Ghoul. He was in shock. He’d easily killed three people. Maybe more, he’d definitely hit more.
“Jet!” Ghoul was shouting, “toss a fucking stick!”
Jet Star was pulling out four cigarettes and handing one out to all of them. He turned to look at Grace with a guilty expression, like he knew better than to smoke in front of a kid. But now wasn't the time or place to worry about that.
They all sat at the table smoking in silence with Grace still on the other side of the room, tuning the radio through the static.
“You all right, Poison?”
The scarf was still around Gerard’s neck, hiding the angry red gashes and most of his gaping mouth. He shook his head, took a shaking drag from his cigarette, and kept his eyes glued to the ugly plastic tabletop.
“Poison’s a fuckin angel. Spat back and ghosted three or four Drac’s to keep me in the sunshine,” Ghoul had calmed down somewhat, the adrenaline from the ambush wearing off. He paused for a few seconds with a look of concentration on his face. Gerard made eye contact. “I owe you my life,” Ghoul said slowly and deliberately.
The room filled with silence again except for the static from Grace’s radio. They heard the shift in static and then a clear woman’s voice and then static again.
“Grace! Turn it back!” Jet said urgently.
“-were assaulted and murdered unprovoked by the Killjoy’s today. This has been one of their many recent attacks since the abduction of Raymond Toro. Better Living Industries would like to remind the citizens of Battery City that we will keep you safe from these terrorists. Don’t worry about it. We’ll take it from here-”
The woman’s voice cut out and was replaced with old world elevator music. Jet Star was staring at the boom box with a sick look on his face. “What the fuck?”
A month later and the claps were getting worse and more extreme. There had been no safe way to contact Dr. Death-Defy or Show Pony but they must’ve figured it out shortly after the Killjoys did because D put out a message to all the tumbleweeds to get on the waves and call for help if there was any trouble.
At first it seemed like a bad idea. The Drac’s would be able to figure out locations of other safe houses if they made any transmissions but after a couple of days Gerard realized the genius of it. The air waves were flooded twenty four-seven and the Killjoy’s tried very hard to randomly choose who to assist. Fun Ghoul had at first been hopeful that maybe the people of Battery City could hear the distress calls and would understand that Killjoys weren’t the enemy. The rest of them shook their heads. With so much flooding - no way would BL do anything but pipe their news through the speakers exclusively.
There was a distress call on one of the lower stations. The guy sounded young. He was in a radiation zone in a crumbling hotel and could see Dracs on the horizon - lots of them. There were women and children in the building.
“That one,” Gerard said, “we have to help them.”
“Then you’re staying here with Grace,” Jet said.
“What? Why?”
While pressing his hand against his forehead, Jet explained: “It’s a radiation zone, Poison, you don’t have a fucking a mask. You wont know when you need to get out.”
“We’ll be fast, I’ll stay by the car, we just need to try to evacuate or help barricade. I’ll be fine.”
They all ended up going, with Grace squeezed between Jet Star and Fun Ghoul in the back. Gerard had on his goggles for the drive and his half face mask secured next to his gun at his hip for when they got out there.
The hotel was more difficult to find than some places. There were still quite a few city remains around it and it was more of a half destroyed motel than anything else. But it was the only thing vaguely matching the description in the area. Things were quiet. There were no Dracs in sight nor were there any people.
“Shit, are we too late?” Kobra asked.
“Let’s just sweep the rooms real fast, we can squeeze in as many people as possible and drop them off at a fuckyou house in zone 4,” Jet said.
As they got out of the car, Grace tried to as well. “No,” Jet said and pushed her back gently, “it’s not safe for you. Stay here with Poison. He’ll keep you safe.”
“But… I want to help,” Grace tried doing puppy eyes.
“Not a chance,” Kobra said and started off with Ghoul. Jet Star began to follow them, turning back only to glare at Gerard.
After the three Killjoys disappeared into the building Gerard sat back in the car with Grace. Jet Star had left his pack of cigarettes behind. He was almost out. Gerard took one anyways and lit up, ashing out of a cracked and dusty window.
“Why can’t I ever help?” Grace asked.
Gerard flicked his cigarette again. “You’re dad doesn’t want you getting hurt. When you’re a bit older you’ll be able to fight with us.”
“He doesn’t want you to get hurt either and you still get to fight.”
Another drag, another flick. “Well none of us want anyone to get hurt,” he explained, “but you are still very young. You just don’t understand-“
“I’m not stupid!” Grace yelled stubbornly. “I know what you and Ghoul and Kobra and Daddy are doing and I can help!”
Gerard flicked the end of the cigarette out the window and rubbed his forehead. “I think this is a conversation for you and you’re dad.”
Grace was about to say something but was cut off by the loud bang! of an old world gun going off in the motel. The two got very quiet and stared ahead.
“What the fuck?” Gerard was throwing off his goggles and scarf and putting on his mask. “Grace, this is really important. I know you want to help and I swear to God I’ll let you if you just do this for me,” he was speaking very fast and very quietly. “Get under the seat and hide there. If one of us doesn’t come back to the car in ten minutes…. There’s a shotgun in the trunk and I’m leaving the keys in the ignition. Drive until you find a fuckyou house okay?”
She looked like she was going to protest but another shot went off, this time a laser, and she saw the intense look on Gerard’s face. “Okay,” she said quietly and slithered under the back seat, next to the fucking rocket launcher.
Gerard got out and ran toward the hotel. There hadn’t been another shot since the laser. The first room he looked in was empty as was the second. The third door was already open, that alone was enough to make Gerard clutch his gun a bit tighter.
The first thing he saw was the body. A kid with long dark hair dressed all in black sprawled out with a laser burn in his chest. An old world gun was on the floor, probably dropped as he hit the bed. Gerard took a few more steps into the room. The radio transmitter was sitting on the floor next to a broken and dusted TV.
No way this was a fuckyou house, Gerard thought. There was no way this place had water, power, or gasoline. He heard a sound coming from the closet and spun around.
Standing before him was Korse, he was pale and bald and looked very ill. His gums were very red in comparison to his pale lips, it made it look like they were bleeding. Just like all the Killjoys, he wore a solar cell jacket but his was a long trench and very Victorian looking clothes underneath - like he thought he was fucking royalty. The last and most infuriating thing that Gerard noticed was the BL/ind swipecard attached to his luxurious vest.
“Party Poison?” Korse looked fucking pissed. But he also looked surprised. Gerard was too scared to move. The only thing he could think of was that photo Dr. Death-Defy showed him on his first day in the desert. How similar he looked to the original Party Poison. How the mask and his grown out red hair only made him look more similar. “I killed you.”
Just as Gerard started to remember how to work his arms again, Korse shot his gun. It must’ve only been set to stun because Gerard still had his hand, but he did drop his weapon as he recoiled from the burn.
Korse rushed him, using his gun to smack Gerard’s face hard enough to break the mask and bruise his eye. Gerard fell to his knees while giving a scream of pain. “I fucking killed you!” Korse yelled. He clutched either side of Gerard’s face, squeezing at his temples. Gerard scrambled to try and pull the man’s hands off but he couldn’t make them budge. Korse started laughing. “I don’t know how this is possible, Party Poison, but I’m going to savor watching you suffer and beg for mercy all over again.” They locked eyes and Gerard became very still. Time slowed down. He didn’t know what Korse was going to do to him but he knew it would be immediate and that it would hurt a lot.
The door kicked open and shots were fired blindly. Jet Star stood in the doorway, the visor on his helmet was flipped up and he looked fucking pissed. “Let him go, Korse,” he growled.
Korse didn’t break eye contact with Gerard. “So it’s true… You know I didn’t believe Lynn when she told me you had turned traitor. Raymond, I’m very disappointed.”
“Rot in fucking hell.” Gerard’s eyes flicked over to see the absolute hatred on Jet Star’s face. He could also see the two Drac’s behind him.
“Shit!”
Jet heard Gerard cuss and turned around in time to shoot one of them square in the chest. Korse broke away from Gerard and pistol whipped him once more and stormed towards the door. He hit Jet Star to his feet in the same way he had Gerard. “This is you’re warning, Killjoy,” he snarled, “I am going to enjoy hunting and killing each of you one by one.” He called off the second Drac and was out of Gerard’s line of sight.
In half a second Jet Star had flung off his helmet, given a cry of pain from the radiated air, and was kneeling at Gerard’s side with his hands shaking and tracing over the bruise on Gerard’s eye. “Oh shit, Poison, are you okay?”
Before Gerard could answer Jet was kissing him and holding his head like Korse had been only so much softer. He had no time to react to what was happening. It was over just as quickly as it started - Ghoul and Kobra were at the door.
“We’ve got to move,” Kobra said. He wasn’t wearing his crash helmet, but was holding it in his hand. He looked like he was in pain.
Fun Ghoul was bleeding profusely from the stomach. “Fuckin set up,” he was trying to say.
Jet Star was on his feet and giving Gerard a hand. They started toward the door when Gerard stopped. He saw, on the other side of the bed, a mascot hood of a mouskat with a vent coming out of the mouth. He grabbed it and threw it on over his face then followed the rest of them out, feeling like he was no longer Gerard Way but, at last, Party Poison.
Author: 6_pack_apathy
Pairing: Gerard/Ray Mikey/Frank
Rating: R
POV: 3rd- Gerard-centric
Summary: Our fabulous Killjoys discover that art is the weapon and use it to take down Better Living Industries
Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction, none of the characters or events are true.
Author's Note: I thought I'd have this out faster so I'm sorry that it took a while but hopefully it'll be worth the wait
Warnings: language, violence, sex
Previous Chapters:
Prologue- Look Alive, Sunshine
Chapter One- Art is the Weapon
Chapter Two- Bullet Proof Heart
Chapter Three- S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W
Chapter Four- The Kids From Yesterday
Chapter Five- Vampire Money
Chapter Six- Planetary GO!
07
When the Killjoys first moved into the fuckyou house Gerard was shocked to discover that it wasn’t a house at all but a small 1950’s style diner. Other than a thin layer of sand and dust it looked like it was in perfect condition yet there was nothing near it for miles. There were gas pumps out front that Ghoul claimed would work as soon as they turned on the generators. The kitchen was stocked with canned beans from BL. The only thing that could’ve made the place better was beds or maybe blinds over the windows.
“How is this place just… empty?” Gerard asked.
Jet Star shot Ghoul a look before leading his daughter to the bathroom. Ghoul waited until both were gone. “Ghosted the tumbleweeds before us,” he said quietly.
“When did that happen?”
“D’s got more than just Killjoys running the zones - same-face those motorbabies yesterday? Hopping on D’s static, man. Plenty of rock n’ rollers will dust a tumbleweed for the Killjoys.”
Gerard had absolutely nothing to say in response. His eyebrows stitched together and his thin lips curled down. “Okay,” he grabbed Ghoul’s arm, “you’re going to tell me what the fuck you’re saying right now!” He pulled Ghoul down into a booth with him. Kobra paused for a second before sitting next to Fun Ghoul.
“What’s to guess?” Ghoul asked.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying!” Gerard cried, exasperated. “I don’t know what you’re saying and I wont ever get it unless you explain it to me. Like same-face what does that mean?”
Ghoul had to stroke his chin for a second while he searched for the words. “It’s like… uh, something’s the same? You eye - see - a face and you always see the face so…”
“It means to remember or memorize or learn something,” Kobra cut in with a sympathetic look towards Ghoul who seemed to really be struggling to explain.
“How do you know that?” Gerard’s tone was as flat and blank as his expression.
“It’s not that hard to pick up once you’ve heard it a few times.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Gerard mumbled quietly. “So crashqueens, motorbabies, and tumbleweeds are all people but what’s the difference between them?”
From the opposite end of the diner Jet Star cut in, saving Ghoul the hassle of trying to speak English. “Tumbleweeds are basically everybody out in the desert, motorbabies are the ones with cars who zone hop, and crashqueens are people who stay put in towns or safehouses.” He slid onto the seat next to Gerard while watching his daughter spin on one of the barstools. “Maybe,” he said thoughtfully as he turned his head toward Gerard, “you should play the strong silent type until you get this figured out. You really will catch onto it eventually. If you try and put a set definition on a word it’s just going to trip you up.”
“I wouldn’t have been tripped up in Battery City if you hadn’t blown it first,” Gerard snapped. He still didn’t trust Jet Star and he wasn’t going to until the fucker proved that he was worthy of it. It was understandable that he had to do some bad shit to keep his cover in Battery City, but he was pretty much in charge. All those increasingly oppressive laws… he could’ve stopped them from ever happening. Those people he’d sentenced to death by leaving from the south… It was unnecessary.
Jet’s lips pressed against each other to form a thin line. His nostrils flared and it looked like he was doing a mental count to ten to avoid getting too angry. “I thought Kobra was going to kill Grace. I feel like you can understand botching a plan for the sake of a loved one.” He glanced at Kobra and bowed his head. “No offense,” he added.
“None taken,” replied a baffled Kobra.
A week after they’d arrived Show Pony showed up in the beat up brown van.
“I can’t stay long,” he said after smothering Jet and Ghoul with hugs and affection. His arm was still in a sling and he was still wearing his ‘Cherri Cola’ outfit with the blue helmet.
The more Gerard looked at him, the more he was able to realize that Show Pony was in fact a man. The broad shoulders and straight torso should’ve been a dead give away from the beginning.
“Quit looking at me like that!” Pony shrieked. He threw several bottles at Gerard who fumbled to catch them.
“What are these?” Gerard asked while inspecting them.
“Hair dye for you and Kobra. You two need to change it up before Korse realizes who you are and posts up bounty posters. I figured you’d want to go Party Poison red - there’s a few colors for Kobra to choose from.” Pony wasn’t looking at him, instead he was skating over to Grace and flinging clothes at her while spinning in circles.
Grace was giggling and crawling on the floor to pick up the outfit that was now scattered across half the diner. Gerard didn’t fail to notice that one of the items was a solar cell jacket - just like the rest of them wore.
As Jet Star was helping his daughter pick up Pony’s mess and giving him a warm thank you, Show Pony skated back over to Gerard. “I’ve got a couple of other things in the van for you guys and a special present just for you - Mr. Artist,” he slid his index finger across Gerard’s chest as he skated by. Gerard didn’t really know how to take the contact. Something about Pony’s flamboyancy made him feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he had a problem with gay people; hell, his brother used to be quite the queen back in the day and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t made out with his fair share of men back in college.
It was probably just the casual contact. Sure, Ghoul would try to make moves on Kobra all the time and Jet slept with Grace cuddled close against his chest every night. It just felt weird for anyone to touch him. In honesty, the change between Mikey and Kobra Kid was so drastic that it was easy for Gerard to think of him strictly as the Kobra Kid but try as he might to adjust and keep his cool Gerard still just felt like Gerard. What Raymond had said to him after the rescue mission stuck with him. He was no Party Poison.
“Yoo Hoo! Anybody home?” Gerard blinked and came back from his thoughts. Show Pony was in his face and the boy’s arms were full again; this time with an old boom box, a remote like the one he used to open the Eastern gate, and lots of paint. Apparently Gerard’s staring made Pony feel awkward. He shuffled back and forth on his skates. “You guys aren’t going to have anything big to do for a while aside from a few sweeps. I remember you said you were an artist so I thought… The world needs more color.”
Eyes still wide, Gerard just kept staring at the bright blues and reds and yellows in Show Pony’s arms. “Th-Thank you,” he finally sputtered.
Show Pony gave a nod and dropped everything unceremoniously on the table top in front of Gerard then started to skate backwards toward the exit. “I’ve gotta go, the fewer passerby’s that see me the better. Listen to the static, D will let you know what to do.”
As Gerard watched Pony try to skate over the uneven and cracked cement outside he quietly wondered aloud, “I wonder why he skates everywhere? It’d be a lot easier to walk…”
Jet Star, who was nearly done helping Grace change into her new outfit turned to look over his shoulder at Gerard. “Pony said he was going to stay on wheels as long as Dr. D does.”
Several days after that and Gerard and Kobra both looked like different people. Kobra’s hair was bleached out to an almost white color and Gerard’s was a very bright red. They’d done a sweep the day before and returned with two motorcycles from a couple of Drac’s who tried to follow them back to the diner. Ghoul and Jet had been the ones to pull the trigger. Gerard and Kobra had still yet to kill anyone and Jet Star seemed adamant about it staying that way unless absolutely necessary.
Anyways, the motorcycles allowed them to divide up the sweeps and keep two Killjoys at the diner to watch after Grace. Gerard had opted to stay behind with Jet Star. No way was he going to leave his brother alone with the bastard. He’d seemed upset enough that Gerard and brought Kobra with him into the desert, it would really suck if his brother was murdered for being an inconvenience. Besides, Kobra seemed to enjoy spending an increasing amount of time with Fun Ghoul and while Gerard still didn’t want to see it, he was happy that his brother was happy.
“I’m bored,” Gerard whined after the third hour of being cooped up alone with Jet Star and Grace. They’d given grace the old radio and told her that it was her job to listen for any news from Dr. Death-Defy. It seemed like even she was picking up jabber more quickly than Gerard was.
Watching Grace clutch the radio to her chest and adjust the tuner after every step she took was cute for a while, but Dr. D wasn’t broadcasting so much these past few days which meant Gerard was left with nothing but ear splitting static and a man he hated.
“You should figure out a helmet. Decorate it or some shit so you’ll actually wear one,” Jet Star said. He was stretched across a booth on the other side of the diner, calmly moving his thumbs over the worn out solar cells of the jacket draped across his lap.
“I don’t have to wear a helmet,” Gerard replied snidely, “the radiation doesn’t hurt me.”
“You’re an idiot,” the older man groaned. “It’s not just for keeping the heat outta your lungs. There’s protecting your identity - and before you go off about your fucking hair, it would be easier to get back into Battery City in the future if they don’t have your face at all. There’s dust mouth, you do not want dust mouth. Oh and what about the hotter zones? Just because you don’t get throat irritations doesn’t mean you can’t melt your lungs.”
“Jesus fuck! Fine. I’ll figure out a mask but I fucking hate the helmets, I’ll figure out something else later.”
A napkin flew at Gerard’s head. “Don’t fuckin’ swear in front of the kid!”
Two weeks later and Gerard had killed his first Drac. He and Ghoul were patrolling the desert together when the Drac’s started swarming out of nowhere. A lot of them were on foot, which was strange. They must’ve started to realize that there was a bigger threat than some angry motorbabies.
Ordinarily, Jet Star or Fun Ghoul would take care of things. Kobra and Gerard could step in if they were really needed but Jet was very serious about keeping blood off their hands. Today it was unavoidable, they’d never seen more than four Drac’s together since they rescued Jet and Grace, there were easily twenty of them on bikes and on foot.
Ghoul was firing off but the Drac’s were ready and shooting back just as quickly. Gerard was gunning it out of there. It was hopefully less than a minute but felt much longer before he realized that Ghoul wasn’t with him. He cut a donut and followed his trail over a dune.
The younger Killjoy was off his bike, monster mask pulled over his mouth but still concealing his face, firing shot after shot at the Drac’s closing in on him. The closer they got the faster Ghoul shot and the worse his accuracy became. Before Gerard even realized what he was doing, he was off his bike and running with his gun out and charged. He killed one of them with his first shot but he didn’t even realize until the third one went down.
“Ghoul, we’ve got to go!”
Fuck the second bike, they could steal another one later. Gerard sprinted through the sand, now thankful for the goggles and scarf Jet had started making him wear. He hopped on the bike and after a few tries got it going. Ghoul made it onto the back, gun still blazing, just before Gerard sped off.
The whole ordeal had been maybe ten minutes but Gerard drove in large loops for over an hour to make sure they weren’t being followed before heading back. There’d been four left standing by his count.
When they got back to the diner Ghoul was ripping off his mask while Gerard was doing the same with the goggles. Kobra was running outside to meet them. “Where the fuck’s the other bike?” He saw the expressions on their faces. “Holy shit what happened?”
Neither spoke until they were inside. Ghoul dropped down into one of the dinner booths, slamming his latex mask on the table at the same time. “Shit went Costa Rica. Dracs crawlin all over the fuckin place. Should’ve carried goddamn electric sheep today.”
Gerard was sitting down slowly across from Ghoul. He was in shock. He’d easily killed three people. Maybe more, he’d definitely hit more.
“Jet!” Ghoul was shouting, “toss a fucking stick!”
Jet Star was pulling out four cigarettes and handing one out to all of them. He turned to look at Grace with a guilty expression, like he knew better than to smoke in front of a kid. But now wasn't the time or place to worry about that.
They all sat at the table smoking in silence with Grace still on the other side of the room, tuning the radio through the static.
“You all right, Poison?”
The scarf was still around Gerard’s neck, hiding the angry red gashes and most of his gaping mouth. He shook his head, took a shaking drag from his cigarette, and kept his eyes glued to the ugly plastic tabletop.
“Poison’s a fuckin angel. Spat back and ghosted three or four Drac’s to keep me in the sunshine,” Ghoul had calmed down somewhat, the adrenaline from the ambush wearing off. He paused for a few seconds with a look of concentration on his face. Gerard made eye contact. “I owe you my life,” Ghoul said slowly and deliberately.
The room filled with silence again except for the static from Grace’s radio. They heard the shift in static and then a clear woman’s voice and then static again.
“Grace! Turn it back!” Jet said urgently.
“-were assaulted and murdered unprovoked by the Killjoy’s today. This has been one of their many recent attacks since the abduction of Raymond Toro. Better Living Industries would like to remind the citizens of Battery City that we will keep you safe from these terrorists. Don’t worry about it. We’ll take it from here-”
The woman’s voice cut out and was replaced with old world elevator music. Jet Star was staring at the boom box with a sick look on his face. “What the fuck?”
A month later and the claps were getting worse and more extreme. There had been no safe way to contact Dr. Death-Defy or Show Pony but they must’ve figured it out shortly after the Killjoys did because D put out a message to all the tumbleweeds to get on the waves and call for help if there was any trouble.
At first it seemed like a bad idea. The Drac’s would be able to figure out locations of other safe houses if they made any transmissions but after a couple of days Gerard realized the genius of it. The air waves were flooded twenty four-seven and the Killjoy’s tried very hard to randomly choose who to assist. Fun Ghoul had at first been hopeful that maybe the people of Battery City could hear the distress calls and would understand that Killjoys weren’t the enemy. The rest of them shook their heads. With so much flooding - no way would BL do anything but pipe their news through the speakers exclusively.
There was a distress call on one of the lower stations. The guy sounded young. He was in a radiation zone in a crumbling hotel and could see Dracs on the horizon - lots of them. There were women and children in the building.
“That one,” Gerard said, “we have to help them.”
“Then you’re staying here with Grace,” Jet said.
“What? Why?”
While pressing his hand against his forehead, Jet explained: “It’s a radiation zone, Poison, you don’t have a fucking a mask. You wont know when you need to get out.”
“We’ll be fast, I’ll stay by the car, we just need to try to evacuate or help barricade. I’ll be fine.”
They all ended up going, with Grace squeezed between Jet Star and Fun Ghoul in the back. Gerard had on his goggles for the drive and his half face mask secured next to his gun at his hip for when they got out there.
The hotel was more difficult to find than some places. There were still quite a few city remains around it and it was more of a half destroyed motel than anything else. But it was the only thing vaguely matching the description in the area. Things were quiet. There were no Dracs in sight nor were there any people.
“Shit, are we too late?” Kobra asked.
“Let’s just sweep the rooms real fast, we can squeeze in as many people as possible and drop them off at a fuckyou house in zone 4,” Jet said.
As they got out of the car, Grace tried to as well. “No,” Jet said and pushed her back gently, “it’s not safe for you. Stay here with Poison. He’ll keep you safe.”
“But… I want to help,” Grace tried doing puppy eyes.
“Not a chance,” Kobra said and started off with Ghoul. Jet Star began to follow them, turning back only to glare at Gerard.
After the three Killjoys disappeared into the building Gerard sat back in the car with Grace. Jet Star had left his pack of cigarettes behind. He was almost out. Gerard took one anyways and lit up, ashing out of a cracked and dusty window.
“Why can’t I ever help?” Grace asked.
Gerard flicked his cigarette again. “You’re dad doesn’t want you getting hurt. When you’re a bit older you’ll be able to fight with us.”
“He doesn’t want you to get hurt either and you still get to fight.”
Another drag, another flick. “Well none of us want anyone to get hurt,” he explained, “but you are still very young. You just don’t understand-“
“I’m not stupid!” Grace yelled stubbornly. “I know what you and Ghoul and Kobra and Daddy are doing and I can help!”
Gerard flicked the end of the cigarette out the window and rubbed his forehead. “I think this is a conversation for you and you’re dad.”
Grace was about to say something but was cut off by the loud bang! of an old world gun going off in the motel. The two got very quiet and stared ahead.
“What the fuck?” Gerard was throwing off his goggles and scarf and putting on his mask. “Grace, this is really important. I know you want to help and I swear to God I’ll let you if you just do this for me,” he was speaking very fast and very quietly. “Get under the seat and hide there. If one of us doesn’t come back to the car in ten minutes…. There’s a shotgun in the trunk and I’m leaving the keys in the ignition. Drive until you find a fuckyou house okay?”
She looked like she was going to protest but another shot went off, this time a laser, and she saw the intense look on Gerard’s face. “Okay,” she said quietly and slithered under the back seat, next to the fucking rocket launcher.
Gerard got out and ran toward the hotel. There hadn’t been another shot since the laser. The first room he looked in was empty as was the second. The third door was already open, that alone was enough to make Gerard clutch his gun a bit tighter.
The first thing he saw was the body. A kid with long dark hair dressed all in black sprawled out with a laser burn in his chest. An old world gun was on the floor, probably dropped as he hit the bed. Gerard took a few more steps into the room. The radio transmitter was sitting on the floor next to a broken and dusted TV.
No way this was a fuckyou house, Gerard thought. There was no way this place had water, power, or gasoline. He heard a sound coming from the closet and spun around.
Standing before him was Korse, he was pale and bald and looked very ill. His gums were very red in comparison to his pale lips, it made it look like they were bleeding. Just like all the Killjoys, he wore a solar cell jacket but his was a long trench and very Victorian looking clothes underneath - like he thought he was fucking royalty. The last and most infuriating thing that Gerard noticed was the BL/ind swipecard attached to his luxurious vest.
“Party Poison?” Korse looked fucking pissed. But he also looked surprised. Gerard was too scared to move. The only thing he could think of was that photo Dr. Death-Defy showed him on his first day in the desert. How similar he looked to the original Party Poison. How the mask and his grown out red hair only made him look more similar. “I killed you.”
Just as Gerard started to remember how to work his arms again, Korse shot his gun. It must’ve only been set to stun because Gerard still had his hand, but he did drop his weapon as he recoiled from the burn.
Korse rushed him, using his gun to smack Gerard’s face hard enough to break the mask and bruise his eye. Gerard fell to his knees while giving a scream of pain. “I fucking killed you!” Korse yelled. He clutched either side of Gerard’s face, squeezing at his temples. Gerard scrambled to try and pull the man’s hands off but he couldn’t make them budge. Korse started laughing. “I don’t know how this is possible, Party Poison, but I’m going to savor watching you suffer and beg for mercy all over again.” They locked eyes and Gerard became very still. Time slowed down. He didn’t know what Korse was going to do to him but he knew it would be immediate and that it would hurt a lot.
The door kicked open and shots were fired blindly. Jet Star stood in the doorway, the visor on his helmet was flipped up and he looked fucking pissed. “Let him go, Korse,” he growled.
Korse didn’t break eye contact with Gerard. “So it’s true… You know I didn’t believe Lynn when she told me you had turned traitor. Raymond, I’m very disappointed.”
“Rot in fucking hell.” Gerard’s eyes flicked over to see the absolute hatred on Jet Star’s face. He could also see the two Drac’s behind him.
“Shit!”
Jet heard Gerard cuss and turned around in time to shoot one of them square in the chest. Korse broke away from Gerard and pistol whipped him once more and stormed towards the door. He hit Jet Star to his feet in the same way he had Gerard. “This is you’re warning, Killjoy,” he snarled, “I am going to enjoy hunting and killing each of you one by one.” He called off the second Drac and was out of Gerard’s line of sight.
In half a second Jet Star had flung off his helmet, given a cry of pain from the radiated air, and was kneeling at Gerard’s side with his hands shaking and tracing over the bruise on Gerard’s eye. “Oh shit, Poison, are you okay?”
Before Gerard could answer Jet was kissing him and holding his head like Korse had been only so much softer. He had no time to react to what was happening. It was over just as quickly as it started - Ghoul and Kobra were at the door.
“We’ve got to move,” Kobra said. He wasn’t wearing his crash helmet, but was holding it in his hand. He looked like he was in pain.
Fun Ghoul was bleeding profusely from the stomach. “Fuckin set up,” he was trying to say.
Jet Star was on his feet and giving Gerard a hand. They started toward the door when Gerard stopped. He saw, on the other side of the bed, a mascot hood of a mouskat with a vent coming out of the mouth. He grabbed it and threw it on over his face then followed the rest of them out, feeling like he was no longer Gerard Way but, at last, Party Poison.