The car was unfamiliar, but the pair that got out of it wasn't, and for more than just the fact that Gerard had been told at least once daily that they were Public Enemy Number One. It was a faint sensation, no more than a twinge of something deep in his gut, but it was dizzying all the same, and it was enough to spur him into action, a sudden need to get to the bottom of this before the feeling left him again clawing its way out of some long forgotten part of his brain.
One hand falling to the gun at his side, he moved towards the narrow, dusty footpath that lead down into the drive-in, trying to force himself to concentrate on what little he could feel through his daily regimen of BL/Ind approved medications rather than the fact that this was the same path he'd sent the Dracs filing down just minutes before and how oddly wrong that felt, too, now that he thought about it. Ray followed silently and equally mesmerized, but neither of them got terribly far before Korse's hands were on their shoulders, pulling them back. It was enough to kill whatever he'd been feeling, and he blinked dumbly, staring up at the other man as if he'd just been woken from a particularly startling dream and awaiting orders.
"Not yet," Korse hissed, dropping his hands away after he'd lead them back to their vantage point at the top of the ridge. Not ever, if he had his way. They'd already lost two of their best Exterminators; he wouldn't let the other two walk away just as easily.
Frank ducked out from behind the door, moving forward to the next available cover, firing automatically as he went. He was distantly aware of Mikey's movements, experience helping him watch the other man's back even as he cleared their path forward. Some of the crew moved up with them, taking cover behind the collapsed tents and overturned Jeeps that littered the field. There was a pained shout from nearby that he steadfastly ignored, instead aiming for the Drac.
There was a sharp whistle from his right, and he looked to Mikey, who gestured toward the ridge overlooking the battle. Frank could just make out three figures standing there, but they were recognizable enough even from his distance, and he nodded shortly, wasting a moment to watch the group, swallowing the lump that wanted to settle in his throat. Mikey shifted again, moving ever forward, and Frank immediately shook himself slightly and covered him.
Behind him, he heard the sound of engines turning over and the crunch of tires on dirt, and he came out of cover completely, running forward. It was bold - too bold, probably, with this much heat - but he needed to keep the attention off the trucks, and he scrambled back into cover, firing a little desperately to down the string of Dracs he had attracted.
Bold or not, Mikey moved with him, providing cover fire where he could and muttering something largely unintelligible though clearly half-hearted as he fell into place behind him. The battle was turning and not in the zone runners' favor, most of their support falling away as the trucks got started, the children tucked safely away, and people started getting the hell out of Dodge.
As grim as things looked, though, there was an upside to everything, and while they now had to deal with the same unending swarm of Dracs with much less firepower, it also meant that Korse was willing to let Gerard and Ray join the fight, now. They were winning, after all, the chance of losing the last of his new Exterminators slimmed down to an acceptable risk, and seeing Frank and Mikey cut down by their own former friends far outweighed whatever reservations he still held. Not enough so that he let either ex-Killjoy take point, but enough so that he was grinning ferally by the time they made it to the bottom of the ridge.
"Kill them all," he ordered, pulling his gun free from its holster.
Mindlessly, Gerard and Ray obeyed, drawing their own weapons, and with a faint but noticeable amount of hesitation, they both started firing into what remained of the camp.
Frank took a moment to get his breath back, leaning against a crate to look back over the camp. There were too few of them left now, too many bodies strewn over the sand, no matter how many of them had gotten away - and then he caught sight of movement on the hill. For a moment, his calm slipped as he watched the three of them - and then a bolt was passing so close to his face he could feel its heat, and he fell back, swearing loudly as he scrambled back up to resume firing. "Kobra?" he said simply, pitching his voice to carry, but Mikey was already there, dropping down to put his back to Frank's.
"We need to get them away from Korse. And back toward the car."
Frank shot a glance over his shoulder, checking the distance, and nodded. "Go." He felt Mikey move away and stood to follow. Ray was closer, and he spared a moment to aim carefully, taking a shot that dropped a Drac in front of the three Exterminators, and Frank felt himself grin as Ray turned in his direction. "C'mon, Jet," he said to himself before he made his own retreat.
Ray stalked after them, his gun raised, taking the occasional, poorly-aimed shot at Frank and Mikey both. Whether his aim was truly that bad or he was trying to fight back, to avoid hitting them even if he couldn't stop himself from firing, it was hard to tell, but while a few of the shots came close, none of them hit home. Gerard, on the other hand, seemed to have a steadier hand or was just that far gone, more than one flash of light whizzing past Mikey's head as they made their way back towards the car and away from the Killjoys-turned-Exterminators.
He swore, ducking for cover, Gerard and Ray far enough off still that he could afford a moment's pause and needing a breather. He reached up to pull Frank down with him as he passed and checked the charge on his gun, nevermind the fact that he hadn't fired it once since his brothers had started following them. A glance over the half-collapsed tent they'd darted behind followed, and he frowned, watching as Gerard broke away from his pursuit of them to go deal with a cluster of runners who had stayed behind who had had the balls to shoot at him. Ray continued on towards him and Mikey, which was a relief, but he swore nevertheless.
"Fuck," Frank echoed, pushing himself up enough to take a glance of his own over the debris, quickly locating Ray and Gerard, noting Korse's position, and getting a quick estimate of how many Draculoids they still had on their hands. The answer, as it always was and probably always would be, was "too many", and he couldn't see a way to regain Gerard's attention without getting Korse's, too.
Frank dropped back down, huffing out a breath as he checked his own gun. "Jet Star first and then see about Poison?" he asked carefully, wishing not for the first time that he still had his hair to hide behind.
"Yeah," Mikey agreed, and Mikey's expression, when Frank glanced at him, was set, but he knew the other man well enough to see what he was hiding. Frank nudged his arm, and Mikey looked at him for a moment and then nodded. "Let's go."
They were almost at the car now and Mikey's steps slowed. Probably not his best idea, given that Ray was still at their heels and still taking the odd, half-hearted shot at them, but not thinking to bring anything to take Ray or Gerard down with had been a worse idea, and he needed to find something quick, before the former caught up with them. A stack of boards, likely used for making temporary walls in the event of a sandstorm, came into view, looming off to one side, and he sighed relief before glancing over his shoulder at Frank.
"Keep him coming and watch my back," he called, holstering his gun as he broke into a run towards their salvation.
It probably wasn't fair, asking Frank to keep the Dracs off of both of them and keep Ray interested, but he didn't have a choice. They needed Ray to keep coming at them, the needed one of the planks to take him down with, and no one needed to get shot in the process. At least, thankfully, he made it quick, pulling one of them free before immediately heading back over, circling behind Ray as he continued to stalk ever closer to Frank, believing him to be the bigger threat here since Mikey, himself, wasn't toting a gun anymore. Ray always was bad at this shit.
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he let it out in a rush of apology, and then wound up, cracking Ray in the back of the head with the board. There was an instant where he wondered if he'd hit him hard enough, seeing as how he hadn't used all his strength, afraid of doing permanent damage, and then Ray crumpled, his gun slipping from his fingers to skid to a stop a few feet away. Mikey moved to get it, something like relief flooding into his chest, leaving him feeling dizzy and a little high, and then back to bend down to wrap his fingers around Ray's ankles, figuring Frank would do the same with his arms.
One down, one to go, and on the plus side, Gerard had seen the whole thing after ghosting the group that had tried shooting him, and was now making his way in their direction. On the downside, though, it seemed Korse had seen it, too, and was right behind him.
It might not have been fair, but it was necessary, and really, it wasn't even all that hard. Taking down the Dracs that drifted too close also more than served to keep Ray's attention on Frank, but he still willed Mikey to hurry.
The crack of the board made Frank wince, the ghost of his similar injury spreading out over the back of his skull as he dusted one more Drac and then holstered his gun, satisfied that they would have the time they needed. He moved to slide his hands under Ray's arms and looked to Mikey, lifting as he said "Three." He gave Mikey a moment to catch up before he was walking forward, angling them toward the car.
The size difference between Ray and Frank or Mikey made getting him into the car was awkward and felt like it took far too long. Frank was constantly aware of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W closing in, and they had just gotten Ray settled when a blast scorched the car door beside him. He swore, fumbling for his gun and taking aim. "Ghoul!" Mikey shouted suddenly from the other side of the car, and Frank had just enough time to realize who he was aiming for before he pulled the trigger, and he wrenched his own gun sharply to the side, the shot going wide.
"Shit," he muttered through clenched teeth, turning his aim to Korse, a little out of spite.
Where Korse hadn't been willing to let his captives take point before, now that it was, for the most part, down to just the four of them, he was all but happy to. Mikey and Frank wouldn't risk killing their leader, he knew, and so he hung back, lingering behind Gerard as Frank set his sights on him, and oblivious, Gerard marched forward, still taking shots at his former friends, apparently trying to pin them down long enough to get close enough to take out their wheels. Literally.
The windshield exploded, glass raining down onto the sand. A second shot left a shallow, smoking crater in the center of the grille. If Gerard kept this up, they'd all be back in custody and stripped of their identities again, and Mikey knew it. They had to leave, they'd have to leave Gerard, and they had to do it now. He suddenly felt compelled to punch something.
Frank knew the feeling, and he would probably do just that when they got back home. For now, though, he just growled, looking to Mikey and seeing the mirror of his own emotions on the other man's face.
Trusting him, he ducked around the back door, kicking it shut as he slid into the driver's seat, staying low as he fumbled for the key and turned it hard. The engine thankfully started immediately, and he was already reaching for the gear shift when Mikey fell into the passenger seat. "Go!"
Frank shoved the car into gear and mashed down on the pedals, the wheels spinning briefly before they had traction and the car shot forward. Frank wrenched the wheel around, pointing them back out of the drive-in, huffing out a breath. "Fuck," he said eloquently and saw Mikey nod.
The back window shattered, other, wider shots flashing by the windows and chassis as Korse and Gerard both tried and failed to either damage the car beyond being able to be driven or put out the tires, then there was nothing. No more shots fired, no signs of pursuit from either man or what remained of the company of Dracs they'd brought with them, nothing. It seemed as though they'd given up, but Mikey knew better than to breathe a sigh of relief. He just sat there, his fingers wound so tightly around the gun he'd taken off of Ray his knuckles were turning white, waiting, and as if on cue, the sound of engines coming to life rumbled behind them like distant thunder.
Twisting in his seat, he leaned out the window, glancing behind them, and through the shimmering haze of desert heat, he could make out half a dozen motorcycles trailed by a familiar, black car. He couldn't tell from here, but he was betting that Korse had let Gerard drive, and if he was angry before, he was doubly so now.
Frank shot a glance at the rearview mirror and sat up a little more in the seat, pushing the car on. It was still running smooth for now, and he just hoped they hadn't used up their luck before the chase even started. He reached up for the pair of sunglasses he had tucked over the sun visor, pulling them on as protection from the wind and dust blowing in the shot-out windshield.
He could see their pursuers growing closer in his mirrors, and he pressed the pedal farther to the floor, and because it was one more potential problem, called to Mikey, "How's Ray?"
Mikey took a few shots of his own after he'd managed to get his own sunglasses in, then slid back into the car, half-climbing into the backseat to check on Ray. While half-congealed blood was visible under his mess of curls, he hadn't killed him in hitting him, that much obvious from the steady rise and fall of the other man's chest, and he was, obviously, still unconscious, though Mikey didn't dare try to figure out just how deeply he was dreaming for fear that he'd wake him and add to their problems.
"Still out," he called back, leaning back into the front of the car only to force himself out the window again to take another couple of shots at their tail. When he pulled back in, he added, "We should've brought something to tie him down with."
Vaguely, he could remember hearing all about Frank's near-outburst when Pete had brought him back, but it had been a necessary precaution. He wished he'd thought to get something do the same for Ray before they'd headed out, regardless of how much it might have gotten under Frank's skin, but it wasn't as if they'd been planning to get word on him or Gerard as fast as they did. Or as if they'd had time to stop back at the diner for supplies.
Frank turned to look back over his shoulder as Mikey climbed into the back, debating whether it would do any good for him to try and take some shots. For now, he decided it would be best if he concentrated on his inferior driving skills with this inferior car, but he reached across himself to check his gun, to make sure it would be easy to draw if he needed to.
"Use your belt," he answered Mikey's comment, sounding remarkably matter-of-fact about it, though his white-knuckled grip on the wheel might have given him away. If asked, though, he would just blame that on the chase. He knew it was only the best precaution; it was just also one more reminder of what BL/ind had done to all of them.
Mikey knew better and he frowned at Frank for a good long moment before forcing himself between the seats again, this time in entirety. Awkwardly, his back pressed against the driver's seat, his knees digging into the seat where ever he could find space between Ray's legs, he undid his belt and slid it out of its loops. Rather than immediately move to start binding his wrists, however, he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Ray's for a moment, his eyes sliding closed. He mumbled an apology to him, a hand smoothing his curls back from his face, and then he straightened, reaching for the other man's wrists with his free hand.
He made short work of tying him up and climbed back into the front seat, staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched, his expression like steel. He knew that he should be providing cover fire, but he needed a moment to himself, just as angry as Frank and trying just as hard to hide it.
Frank stayed silent after Mikey settled back into his seat, knowing him well enough to give him the moment and needing one himself, besides.
When he looked to the mirrors again, the black car was bigger behind them, and Frank's hands tightened even more on the wheel, the leather creaking as he practically wrung it. Part of him wanted nothing more than to face the unit down head-on, even knowing it would be suicide, if it meant another chance to get Gerard away from Korse. But there was Ray to worry about, and Frank knew Gerard would tell him to get Mikey away, and so he just pressed the pedal farther to the floor. "Hold on," he said just before he took a turn, putting them onto a lesser traveled track that he knew, and that he hoped the Dracs might have trouble with.
One hand falling to the gun at his side, he moved towards the narrow, dusty footpath that lead down into the drive-in, trying to force himself to concentrate on what little he could feel through his daily regimen of BL/Ind approved medications rather than the fact that this was the same path he'd sent the Dracs filing down just minutes before and how oddly wrong that felt, too, now that he thought about it. Ray followed silently and equally mesmerized, but neither of them got terribly far before Korse's hands were on their shoulders, pulling them back. It was enough to kill whatever he'd been feeling, and he blinked dumbly, staring up at the other man as if he'd just been woken from a particularly startling dream and awaiting orders.
"Not yet," Korse hissed, dropping his hands away after he'd lead them back to their vantage point at the top of the ridge. Not ever, if he had his way. They'd already lost two of their best Exterminators; he wouldn't let the other two walk away just as easily.
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There was a sharp whistle from his right, and he looked to Mikey, who gestured toward the ridge overlooking the battle. Frank could just make out three figures standing there, but they were recognizable enough even from his distance, and he nodded shortly, wasting a moment to watch the group, swallowing the lump that wanted to settle in his throat. Mikey shifted again, moving ever forward, and Frank immediately shook himself slightly and covered him.
Behind him, he heard the sound of engines turning over and the crunch of tires on dirt, and he came out of cover completely, running forward. It was bold - too bold, probably, with this much heat - but he needed to keep the attention off the trucks, and he scrambled back into cover, firing a little desperately to down the string of Dracs he had attracted.
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As grim as things looked, though, there was an upside to everything, and while they now had to deal with the same unending swarm of Dracs with much less firepower, it also meant that Korse was willing to let Gerard and Ray join the fight, now. They were winning, after all, the chance of losing the last of his new Exterminators slimmed down to an acceptable risk, and seeing Frank and Mikey cut down by their own former friends far outweighed whatever reservations he still held. Not enough so that he let either ex-Killjoy take point, but enough so that he was grinning ferally by the time they made it to the bottom of the ridge.
"Kill them all," he ordered, pulling his gun free from its holster.
Mindlessly, Gerard and Ray obeyed, drawing their own weapons, and with a faint but noticeable amount of hesitation, they both started firing into what remained of the camp.
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"We need to get them away from Korse. And back toward the car."
Frank shot a glance over his shoulder, checking the distance, and nodded. "Go." He felt Mikey move away and stood to follow. Ray was closer, and he spared a moment to aim carefully, taking a shot that dropped a Drac in front of the three Exterminators, and Frank felt himself grin as Ray turned in his direction. "C'mon, Jet," he said to himself before he made his own retreat.
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He swore, ducking for cover, Gerard and Ray far enough off still that he could afford a moment's pause and needing a breather. He reached up to pull Frank down with him as he passed and checked the charge on his gun, nevermind the fact that he hadn't fired it once since his brothers had started following them. A glance over the half-collapsed tent they'd darted behind followed, and he frowned, watching as Gerard broke away from his pursuit of them to go deal with a cluster of runners who had stayed behind who had had the balls to shoot at him. Ray continued on towards him and Mikey, which was a relief, but he swore nevertheless.
"Fuck. We're losing Poison."
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Frank dropped back down, huffing out a breath as he checked his own gun. "Jet Star first and then see about Poison?" he asked carefully, wishing not for the first time that he still had his hair to hide behind.
"Yeah," Mikey agreed, and Mikey's expression, when Frank glanced at him, was set, but he knew the other man well enough to see what he was hiding. Frank nudged his arm, and Mikey looked at him for a moment and then nodded. "Let's go."
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"Keep him coming and watch my back," he called, holstering his gun as he broke into a run towards their salvation.
It probably wasn't fair, asking Frank to keep the Dracs off of both of them and keep Ray interested, but he didn't have a choice. They needed Ray to keep coming at them, the needed one of the planks to take him down with, and no one needed to get shot in the process. At least, thankfully, he made it quick, pulling one of them free before immediately heading back over, circling behind Ray as he continued to stalk ever closer to Frank, believing him to be the bigger threat here since Mikey, himself, wasn't toting a gun anymore. Ray always was bad at this shit.
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he let it out in a rush of apology, and then wound up, cracking Ray in the back of the head with the board. There was an instant where he wondered if he'd hit him hard enough, seeing as how he hadn't used all his strength, afraid of doing permanent damage, and then Ray crumpled, his gun slipping from his fingers to skid to a stop a few feet away. Mikey moved to get it, something like relief flooding into his chest, leaving him feeling dizzy and a little high, and then back to bend down to wrap his fingers around Ray's ankles, figuring Frank would do the same with his arms.
One down, one to go, and on the plus side, Gerard had seen the whole thing after ghosting the group that had tried shooting him, and was now making his way in their direction. On the downside, though, it seemed Korse had seen it, too, and was right behind him.
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The crack of the board made Frank wince, the ghost of his similar injury spreading out over the back of his skull as he dusted one more Drac and then holstered his gun, satisfied that they would have the time they needed. He moved to slide his hands under Ray's arms and looked to Mikey, lifting as he said "Three." He gave Mikey a moment to catch up before he was walking forward, angling them toward the car.
The size difference between Ray and Frank or Mikey made getting him into the car was awkward and felt like it took far too long. Frank was constantly aware of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W closing in, and they had just gotten Ray settled when a blast scorched the car door beside him. He swore, fumbling for his gun and taking aim. "Ghoul!" Mikey shouted suddenly from the other side of the car, and Frank had just enough time to realize who he was aiming for before he pulled the trigger, and he wrenched his own gun sharply to the side, the shot going wide.
"Shit," he muttered through clenched teeth, turning his aim to Korse, a little out of spite.
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The windshield exploded, glass raining down onto the sand. A second shot left a shallow, smoking crater in the center of the grille. If Gerard kept this up, they'd all be back in custody and stripped of their identities again, and Mikey knew it. They had to leave, they'd have to leave Gerard, and they had to do it now. He suddenly felt compelled to punch something.
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Trusting him, he ducked around the back door, kicking it shut as he slid into the driver's seat, staying low as he fumbled for the key and turned it hard. The engine thankfully started immediately, and he was already reaching for the gear shift when Mikey fell into the passenger seat. "Go!"
Frank shoved the car into gear and mashed down on the pedals, the wheels spinning briefly before they had traction and the car shot forward. Frank wrenched the wheel around, pointing them back out of the drive-in, huffing out a breath. "Fuck," he said eloquently and saw Mikey nod.
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Twisting in his seat, he leaned out the window, glancing behind them, and through the shimmering haze of desert heat, he could make out half a dozen motorcycles trailed by a familiar, black car. He couldn't tell from here, but he was betting that Korse had let Gerard drive, and if he was angry before, he was doubly so now.
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He could see their pursuers growing closer in his mirrors, and he pressed the pedal farther to the floor, and because it was one more potential problem, called to Mikey, "How's Ray?"
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"Still out," he called back, leaning back into the front of the car only to force himself out the window again to take another couple of shots at their tail. When he pulled back in, he added, "We should've brought something to tie him down with."
Vaguely, he could remember hearing all about Frank's near-outburst when Pete had brought him back, but it had been a necessary precaution. He wished he'd thought to get something do the same for Ray before they'd headed out, regardless of how much it might have gotten under Frank's skin, but it wasn't as if they'd been planning to get word on him or Gerard as fast as they did. Or as if they'd had time to stop back at the diner for supplies.
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"Use your belt," he answered Mikey's comment, sounding remarkably matter-of-fact about it, though his white-knuckled grip on the wheel might have given him away. If asked, though, he would just blame that on the chase. He knew it was only the best precaution; it was just also one more reminder of what BL/ind had done to all of them.
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He made short work of tying him up and climbed back into the front seat, staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched, his expression like steel. He knew that he should be providing cover fire, but he needed a moment to himself, just as angry as Frank and trying just as hard to hide it.
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When he looked to the mirrors again, the black car was bigger behind them, and Frank's hands tightened even more on the wheel, the leather creaking as he practically wrung it. Part of him wanted nothing more than to face the unit down head-on, even knowing it would be suicide, if it meant another chance to get Gerard away from Korse. But there was Ray to worry about, and Frank knew Gerard would tell him to get Mikey away, and so he just pressed the pedal farther to the floor. "Hold on," he said just before he took a turn, putting them onto a lesser traveled track that he knew, and that he hoped the Dracs might have trouble with.
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