Hapless

by TheStarsToldMeSo

Summary:

At least we're unlucky together...

Sequel to Star Crossed

Notes:

ngl, a lotta this you might not get if you don't read Part 1, but also i'm not about to tell you what you can and can't do.

content warnings in the tags :)

Chapter 1: Aftermath

2019 - Zone 3

 

Fun Ghoul should’ve told his friends to run the moment he saw the Director toying with the controls in her hand. But he stood his ground, letting himself believe that she was just bluffing. For years he was fed lies. It was her way of getting to his head and to his heart. This had to just be another one of her tricks, Ghoul thought. 

 

But he should’ve had Poison run. There wasn’t a chance to shout before the buttons clicked, and it felt as though Ghoul had been grabbed by someone who was trying to drag him to the ground. He was imprisoned in his own mind, forced to bear witness to someone else using his body to attack his best friends.

 

That was the real kicker, however. Ghoul knew it wasn’t someone else. He knew it was still himself throwing those punches. Ghoul still recognised the redhead he was ordered to kill. He knew what their hair smelt like. He knew what their lips felt like against his own. And yet, his hands wrapped around Poison’s throat with every intention to leave them for dead.

 

Ghoul mumbled under his breath and shook his head, trying to shake the unwanted thought out of his mind. He blinked a few times, focusing his eyes back on the dirt road ahead of him as his truck approached the diner. Ghoul had been out since the sun came up, and by the time he got home, he had maybe half an hour of daylight left. He’d been on a supply run looking for essentials to stock up the diner with. In the back of his mind he knew that he had taken so long because he was dreading having to come home to Poison.

 

He parked right outside the front doors of the diner. The loud rumble of his engine announced his presence to Poison and Kobra, who came running out to help Ghoul unload. Ghoul had used one of his back tires as a step to climb into the bed of the truck. 

 

“Check it out,” he said triumphantly, holding his arms out towards the three thin, shitty mattresses he had stacked up in his truck box. “The club let me take the one I been sleepin’ on for the last three years, Doc had the second one for sale, an’ the third one I found in one of the city’s dumpsters—it ain’t even got any rats in it or anythin’!”

 

“We can finally stop sleepin’ in those awful booths,” Ghoul heard Poison say as he and Kobra started dragging the first bed into the diner. “My back hates me.”

 

“Mm, I dunno if these are gonna help wit’ the back pain,” Ghoul chuckled at the poor excuses for beds. He turned around and nearly jumped back at the sight of Poison standing right behind him.

 

Ghoul fought to keep a straight face and hide his initial grimace from Poison. They’d only been back from their mission for two days, and Poison was still severely beat up. The bruises around their eyes spread across their cheekbones and faded into a disgusting shade of purple overnight. Ghoul tried not to stare at the gash that stretched from the middle of their forehead down to their right eyebrow that was a dark red against their pale skin. They were only in a t-shirt, so the scratches on their arms from Ghoul’s nails were on full display. And worst of all; there were still marks on their neck where Ghoul had strangled them.

 

“Me an’ Kobes slept on concrete floors our first year,” Poison shrugged, clearly oblivious to Ghoul’s guilty stares. “Any real bed out here is gonna feel like sleepin’ on a cloud, y’know?” 

 

Their split lips stretched into a soft smile. Ghoul snapped himself out of it, tearing his eyes away from Poison in favour of glancing around the diner.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, incapable of even returning Poison’s smile. He suddenly remembered that there was a crate of Power Pup sitting on his front seat and muttered an excuse to turn and leave without acknowledging the frown on Poison’s face.

 

Poison sighed and watched him hurry away. They stood awkwardly in the middle of the diner, picking at their nails, wondering if they should wait for Ghoul to come back. They hadn’t seen much of him over the last two days. Poison had to keep telling themself that Ghoul wasn’t intentionally avoiding them.

 

“Fuck it,” they muttered to themself and dropped their arms to their side. They were tired of waiting for Ghoul to give them attention. Instead, Poison busied themself with dragging two of the beds to the back of the diner.

 

There was a decently spacious room in the back that had been completely cleared out over the years. What the room was originally used for, Poison had no idea. But they did have a long argument with Kobra over the possible first uses—Kobra suggested that it was an office, but Poison couldn’t see any universe where the manager of a diner needed their own office. They said it must’ve just been extra storage, which Kobra said was stupid since there was already a storage room by the bathroom; the room that Ghoul decided would be his.

 

Whatever it was once used for, Poison was happy with it because after shoving two mattresses inside, there was still a little room for anything else they and Kobra would need. As Poison dropped an armful of supplies they’d picked up for themself on their designated side of the room, they heard Kobra quietly whistling in the doorway.

 

“Whaddya think?” Poison asked, motioning to Kobra’s side. “Pretty shiny, right?”

 

Kobra’s head ticced forwards as his hands jerked up and flipped Poison off. He cleared his throat, staring into the room as he awkwardly crossed his arms over his chest, making himself smaller.

 

“Ya look like you hate it,” Poison chuckled, but quickly went quiet when Kobra didn’t move or say anything. “Do you hate it?” They asked genuinely.

 

Kobra shrugged. “It’s fine. Hmm,” he walked into the room without looking up at Poison. “Mm—” Poison watched hesitantly as Kobra sat himself down on the bed, as if to prove that he wasn’t lying. 

 

“You okay?” Poison asked, and Kobra nodded his head.

 

“Fine,” he repeated. Now Poison knew he was lying.

 

Kobra hadn’t been the same since the team got back from the city. He was never one to talk that much, but Kobra had been nearly silent for the past two days. Poison knew he was scared; they saw the nervousness in Kobra’s actions. His hands hovered near his face, constantly readjusting the sunglasses that shielded the rest of the world from his eyes. Poison had ripped Kobra out of his safety bubble and threw him into this life where he was suddenly surrounded by other Killjoys. That was so many more lives at risk, simply because Kobra was near them.

 

Sighing, Poison stared at the Kid sitting on the edge of his mattress while the heels of his hands hit against his thighs. He couldn’t sit still anymore, his mind was always on the run from him nowadays. Poison desperately wanted to reach out and grab Kobra’s arm, hoping that their powers would do their thing. Poison needed a way to get through to Kobra. But somewhere in the back of Poison’s mind, they knew they’d only see memories of the people Kobra killed.

 

“I gotta go out tonight,” Poison’s voice broke into the thick, uncomfortable silence between the siblings. “Or else we won’t be able to eat tomorrow,” they grinned, not that Kobra could even see it. “You wanna come with?”

 

“No,” Kobra replied almost immediately. And while Poison was proud of him for using his words instead of just shaking his head, their heart still stung hearing Kobra’s answer.

 

“Okay,” Poison’s lips pressed tightly together and they awkwardly left the room. They locked themself in the bathroom and rested their head against the door with a heavy sigh. Kobra was already retreating back to his safety bubble. For three years, Poison hid him from the rest of the Zones, and Kobra wanted nothing more but to get out. But now, Poison feared that Kobra saw too much too fast when he was suddenly fighting a war against Battery City and the Ratts. 

 

Poison opened their eyes and caught a glimpse of themself in the mirror. This was entirely their fault, wasn’t it?

 

Think about anything else, Poison told themself while they changed into slightly better clothes for work. Their tattered and paint-stained pale yellow shirt came off, and Poison was forced to see the rest of the damage the city mission left on them. They’d gotten used to the sight of their beaten face; a few bruises and cuts was a common look for a Killjoy. They could brush those ones off and pretend it was any old fight they got themself into.

 

The bright angry circular burn scars stamped into the centre of Poison’s chest were harder to lie about. Whatever spark-sucking machine the city was cooking up was hot and violent. Poison still felt the phantom pain in their sleep whenever they dreamed about the city mission. Shock never finished the job; Jet put a stop to him almost immediately. Poison still had their powers. They could look into anyone’s past memories with one simple touch. But whenever Poison inhaled, they could still feel the stinging pain where Shock tried to strip them of their sparks.

 

Poison brought their hand to their chest. Their gentle fingertips grazed over the round scar; deep red against their pale skin. Though their skin wasn’t perfect. The scar left by Shock blended into the other marks that decorated their chest. Thin, red horizontal cuts. The oldest of them were from years ago, the newest from last night. And Poison had no one else to blame for those scars but themself.

 

Evening would fall on them soon, so Poison shook themself out of their thoughts and tore their eyes away from their own reflection. Hurriedly, they covered their body again in darker clothes and their blue leather jacket, and ran out of the diner.

 

Their bike was sitting by the front door, ready for Poison, but Ghoul’s truck was nowhere to be seen. He left without them. The two Killjoys were heading to the same place, and what a waste of gas it was to leave separately, but Poison guessed that at this point, Ghoul just wanted nothing to do with them.

 

Poison sighed, straddled their bike, and started driving before they could stop and think for too long.

 

---

 

2017 - Zone 2

 

Mad Gear had his back pressed against his sister’s as she shredded out one of her most popular guitar solos. He felt Missile Kid put her head on his shoulder. Mads laughed and messed up her hair before he reached for the mic again to sing the last chorus. 

 

As he looked out into the crowd, he saw her again; the girl standing at the edge of the crowd, leaning up against the wall with her arms crossed. She wasn’t dancing and cheering or singing along like the rest of the crowd. But still, she hadn’t stopped staring at Mads since he first got up on stage earlier that night.

 

Every time Mads glanced her way, she’d lock eyes with him. Nothing more than a soft smirk would pull at her lips. Mads felt his face heating up and found he was forgetting the lyrics to the song that he could usually perform in his sleep. He tried to ignore the girl for the rest of the set, but it was nearly impossible not to.

 

“She kept starin’ at me,” Mads told his sister backstage after the show. “You saw her too, right?”

 

Missy was kneeling on the floor, carefully laying her guitar down in its case. She laughed at her brother as he paced nervously and rolled her eyes.

 

“I think you’re makin’ shit up in your head, Mads,” she shook her head. Missy collapsed onto a couch backstage with a heavy sigh, cuddling up next to her friend, Lyte, who passed her a cigarette.

 

“A cute girl starin’ at you?” Missy continued. “That’s all your imagination, dude,” she teased, and Lyte giggled.

 

“Missy, I’m serious, she couldn’t take her fuckin’ eyes off of me,” Mads sighed, dragging his hands through his sweat soaked hair. “Well. Eye . She’s only got one.”

 

“She only has one eye!?” Missy exclaimed. “Now I know she ain’t real!” She laughed out a large puff smoke and watched Mads drop his head into his hands.

 

“She’s probably still out there, I can prove to you that she’s real,” Mads’ eyes went wide as he gestured towards the door that led to the main club.

 

“No, no, no,” Missy pointed a stern finger at her brother. “You get your ass out there and go talk to her! I’m stayin’ in here,” she placed the dart between her lips and crossed her arms. “You got this, bro,” she said sincerely.

 

Embarrassed, Mads groaned and dragged his hands down his face. “Yeah, thanks sis,” he muttered, and dragged himself into the bustling club. Missy shouted some more words of encouragement before the door slammed behind him, and he was in the sea of dancing bodies and beams of neon lights.

 

He weaved in between strangers through the middle of the dance floor, bumping shoulders with a few Killjoys who were too drunk to even notice. Mads quickly adjusted to the environment, letting the beats pumping out of the DJ’s speakers ground him. He leaned his elbows over the sticky bar at the back of the club, flashing a quick smile to the familiar bartender. She winked back at him, immediately pouring him his usual.

 

Mads loved Hyperthrust. He had guaranteed gigs every week, and free drinks afterwards. He brought his glass to his lips just as he felt someone new brush up against his shoulder as they claimed the seat next to him. Mads blinked and glanced over. He nearly spat out his drink at the sight of the very girl he’d been looking for.

 

“Hey,” she greeted while barely even looking in Mads’ direction. The bartender popped open a fresh beer and handed it to her. “Sick show.”

 

“Thanks,” Mads could already feel himself blushing. He nervously tapped his nails against his glass, trying not to stare at the girl. It was harder now than it was before on stage. This close, Mads can see the eyeliner that was smudged across her eyelid, gorgeously complimenting her naturally dark left eye. Mads distantly wondered if the eyepatch that covered the right eye was a fashion choice or an injury. Either way, it suited her and the mysterious vibe she radiated.

 

“So, are ya Mad Gear or Missile Kid?” She suddenly asked, turning to Mads.

 

It shouldn’t have startled him so badly, but in Mads’ defense, he was too busy admiring her hair. It was split down the middle, weaved together in two braids that had seen better days. But the curly flyaways that fell from the braids still looked perfect.

 

“Uh, I’m Mads—Mad Gear,” he stuttered out after realising he’d been staring in silence for too long.

 

The girl chuckled. “You sure?” She asked, and that same half-grin she’d been wearing all night appeared back on her face.

 

Mads’ face heated up. “Yeah, yeah I’m sure,” he laughed at himself. “Missile Kid is my sister.”

 

“Sister?” The girl asked, seemingly far more interested now than she was a moment ago. She turned her whole body in the bar stool she sat on, fully facing Mads. “By blood?”

 

“Yeah,” Mads’ smile softened. “Twins.”

 

More ‘Joys crowded around the bar in need of their next round of drinks. It forced the girl sitting with Mads to move her seat closer to him. Now, inches away, she stared at Mads carefully. He tried not to recoil, but it was hard when it felt like she was searching for something in him.

 

“You got a name?” Mads asked, breaking the quiet between them.

 

She smiled a little. “Jet.”

 

Mads’ head tilted slightly. “Just Jet?”

 

“Just Jet,” she nodded. A loose strand of hair fell in front of her face with the movement. Her gloved hand reached up to tuck it behind her ear. Mads watched it all with blown pupils.

 

“Are you a fan, Jet? Or…” Mads stopped himself, realising how conceited he sounded. “I mean, like, have you seen us play before?” Destroya, he was embarrassing.

 

Jet glanced behind her, eyeing the stage that Mads had performed on earlier. The DJ had since moved in; dancing with the other partygoers from behind his turntable and sound system. 

 

“No, I never heard of y’all before,” Jet shook her head. “Y’all are kinda good, though,” Mads’ heart fluttered as Jet smirked at him. He couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

 

“Kinda?” He asked, holding a hand over his chest as if he was hurt. “Damn, girl, maybe it just wasn’t our best night,” he laughed. “You’ll just have to come back next weekend and watch our set again.”

 

“Guess so,” Jet hummed, and Mads felt himself melt a little. 

 

He fell into a rhythm with Jet, just wanting to get to know her and peel off each layer of the mysterious facade she wore. They stuck together as the night carried them around the club, away from the overcrowded bar and into a slightly more private corner, near the dance floor. Mads watched the late night dancers tearing it up and glanced back at Jet. He somehow could guess that she wasn’t a dancer.

 

“Where’d ya learn to play like that?” Jet had asked him. 

 

“Oh,” Mads smiled. No one ever wanted to talk about music with him. “I played the cello when I lived in the city.”

 

A laugh bubbled out of Jet. “The fuck’s a cello?”

 

“The stupidest fuckin’ instrument you’ll ever find,” Mads replied dryly, only making Jet laugh harder. “Imagine if a bass guitar was really big and also sucked.”

 

“Wow,” Jet shook her head at him. “Ya really sellin’ it.”

 

“I hated it so much,” Mads groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Unfortunately, I was really good at it. Our parents thought we were some sorta child geniuses, so they made me pick up the cello and gave Missy a violin,” he sighed heavily. He didn’t miss their overbearing parents one bit. Mads could tell that Jet also had never heard of a violin, but she chose to keep her mouth shut. “Anyways, we thought music was the worst thing ever until we got out here and found out that music only sucks in the city. And here , we can make rock n’ roll.”

 

“That’s shiny as fuck, Mads,” Jet said, although the late night crowd was getting too rowdy. Between that and all the drinks he had, Mads couldn’t hear a thing.

 

“What?”

 

Jet reached out and grabbed Mads’ arm, pulling him into her. She rested her chin on his shoulder, obnoxiously shouting into his ear, “I said that’s shiny as fuck, dude!”

 

Mads laughed loudly, holding onto Jet’s shoulder for support. The sudden movements had him realising just how tipsy he was. Mads could only guess how flushed and red his face had gotten from the booze. Jet, however, she was still glowing.

 

They ended up leaning on each other for a while, both of them telling themselves that it was because the club had just gotten too loud. Talking to each other with only a few inches between their faces, Mads let himself get lost in Jet. Her drunken grip on his arm kept him locked in place. He almost didn’t notice Missy heading out with Lyte, waving to Mads.

 

“Shit,” Mads stared at Missy waiting by the door. “Fuck, um.”

 

“What?” Jet kept her gaze on Mads, not even bothering to check what Mads was so freaked out about.

 

“Missy probably wants to go,” he grimaced at the way Jet’s expression fell. “Well, I guess I don’t have to leave. I mean—like—if you don’t want me to leave. Not like that, but um—”

 

“Can you just fuckin’ kiss me already?” Jet blurted out.

 

“Yes,” the word fell out of Mads’ mouth before he could even think.

 

He leaned forwards and pressed his lips to hers. He wanted to test the waters, make sure she was serious, and pull away after a few seconds. But soon enough, Jet’s hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him in place.

 

Mads melted into her and held her gently around the waist with one hand. His other hand reached up and cupped the side of Jet’s face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. His tongue glided along her bottom lip as he felt her fingers card through his hair. Jet’s mouth fell open with a breathy sigh, inhaling all of Mads.

 

“You wanna get outta here?” Mads asked the moment he had a chance to pull away from her. He was out of breath and definitely red in the face now, but he didn’t care. He was too busy staring at Jet’s lips, shiny with spit, as he waited for a reply.

 

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” she giggled, pulling him back in to kiss him one more time. Mads grabbed her hand and guided her out of the club, away from the rest of the crowd.

 

---

 

2019 - Zone 2

 

Poison was a little late getting to the club—sue them. They quickly tossed their gear in a back room and got to work serving a crowd of impatient and thirsty Killjoys. Mad Gear and Missile Kid were already playing, meaning the weekend party was in full swing.

 

As Poison wiped down the top of the bar, cleaning up after a particularly messy Killjoy, they finally spotted Jet sitting at the very end, looking down at her drink instead of watching her boyfriend on stage. The redhead hummed softly to themself and quietly approached her.

 

“What’s up?” They smiled, sliding a new beer across the bar because they already knew what Jet was going to ask for.

 

“Hey,” Jet forced a grateful grin and accepted the drink. 

 

“How’s it goin’, Jet?” 

 

They’d all been pretty shaken up by their last mission, but Jet had ties to it that the others could only begin to understand. And since she lived with Mads, Poison couldn’t check in on her at any moment like they could with Ghoul and Kobra. Jet never seemed to want to talk about what happened in the city, or what Poison and Kobra both watched go down between Jet and Shock. Still, Poison needed to make sure their friend was okay.

 

“M’ survivin’,” Jet shrugged.

 

Poison sighed. “Well, I guess that’s all any of us can ask for, right?”

 

Jet chuckled, despite herself. “Sure thing,” she nodded. “Where’s Ghoul?”

 

Something in Poison’s expression fell as they shrugged. “Somewhere,” they motioned around the club and waved off Jet’s question. Jet watched as Poison retreated into themself, distracting themself with cleaning the bar again. They mumbled an excuse and walked away, tending to other customers, leaving Jet alone.

 

While the band’s music raged on, Jet let out a long breath through her nose and rested her elbows on the bar. She stared down the half full bottle in front of her, tempted to down it in one go and ask for another one, but she stopped herself. Jet knew she should watch the number of drinks she got that night, but the ghosts were nearly impossible to ignore and Jet wanted an escape from it all. She didn’t even know if it was her gift getting out of control, or if she was just distracted by so many other things.

 

The truth was, Jet still hadn’t gotten over the city mission. She couldn’t stop replaying the day over and over again in her head, watching her father hurt her friends like that. There wasn’t anything Jet could do to get Shock’s voice out of her head; the menacing speech he had delivered, admitting to murdering Jet’s mother, played on a loop like a broken record. Jet had enough.

 

She hadn’t slept in days, and not just because of the usual ghosts that kept her up. Even on the nights when Jet drank herself to oblivion until she passed out, she still relived old memories in her dreams. She’d wake up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating for what felt like forever until Jet could finally remind herself what year it was.

 

Jet had been hurt by Shock too many times to count, and she had spent ten years learning to suppress that hurt and cover it up with something better; friends, a new crew, helping others at the med station, her boyfriend. And it only took Shock ten minutes to undo years of hard work, forcing every single buried memory back to the surface and back to the front of Jet’s mind. 

 

The band finished their set, but Jet didn’t notice. She was so deep in her own head that Mads had to come find her after the show and pull her out.

 

“You alright?” His voice suddenly appeared behind Jet. She jumped, cringing at the way Mads’ arms snaked around her body, hugging her from behind. She gave him a weak nod, and he chuckled. “Pretty good show, right?”

 

“It rocked,” Jet lied. She hadn’t heard any of it. “Can we go now?”

 

Mads pulled back, finally. “What, you don’t wanna hang around? Ghoul’s here, Poison’s shift has gotta be over soon, we could—”

 

“No, let’s go,” Jet decided, and Mads faltered.

 

“Yeah, okay,” he said quietly. “For sure, lemme just grab my things. I’ll meet you outside, ‘kay?”

 

“‘Kay.”

 

Jet had her back turned to Mads the entire drive home. She kept her gaze fixated on the night sky; gloomier than ever. She swore, the smog was getting worse by the day. 

 

As soon as Jet was inside the warmth of Mads and Missy’s place, and her boots were kicked off haphazardly by the door, Jet was ready to collapse onto the couch and call it a fucking night. But Mads was still there.

 

“Come on, we’ll go to bed early tonight, yeah?” He offered, holding out his hand so he could walk Jet to his bedroom. But Jet didn’t move, she just stared straight ahead at the wall.

 

“Jet?” Mads quieted down. He came up beside her, wrapping her up in a gentle hug. Jet tried to take it, but she couldn’t hold it in. Neither of them could ignore the full body shudder Jet let out in response to Mads’ touch.

 

“Talk to me, what’s happening?” Mads asked desperately, pulling away from Jet as she recoiled into herself.

 

“Get off me, get off me,” Jet shivered, shaking out her arms despite the fact that Mads had long stepped back. “I can’t do this, Mads.”

 

“Can’t do what?” Mads hovered near her with his hands out, clearly wanting to touch her again, but he was afraid of what might happen. “What’s wrong, Jet?”

 

“ This,” Jet motioned between herself and Mads. “I can’t keep up, Mads, m’ sorry, I—I,” she shook her head, squeezing her eye shut. “I can’t fuckin’ trust you.”

 

Mads froze. His arms fell to his side as he looked at Jet with sadness in his eyes, not that Jet saw it. “Hey,” he whispered. “I know everything feels like a lot right now, and I’m sorry. We can take as many steps back as you need, Jet.”

 

“Stop it,” Jet shook her head, hiding her face behind her hair. “That’s so fuckin’ stupid.”

 

“Is it?” Mads asked. “Look, I know that mission fucked you up, I can see what it did to you, Jet. You’re not the same. But listen to me, I love you. I’ll wait as long as I have to. I know you know you can trust me.”

 

“I know I can,” Jet raised her voice and balled her hands into fists. “I don’t.”

 

She felt her chest tighten with rising panic and she tore her gaze away from Mads so she could catch her breath. Her head felt fuzzy. She brought her hands to her head and tugged at the roots of her hair. 

 

“Jet?”

 

She shook her head again. She couldn’t look up. The last time she’d seen a man confess his love to a girl, it was Shock swearing himself to Acid.

 

“Jet, look at me, please,” Mads begged, and Jet finally lifted her head.

 

“I can’t—” Jet’s breath hitched. “I don’ want this.”

 

“Okay,” Mads exhaled. “I’ll give you space, take your time, and—”

 

“Mads, ya not listenin’ to me,” Jet paced a few steps back to get away from him. “I don’ want any of this shit!”

 

“Oh,” Mads squeaked, and the silence that settled into the room made Jet want to puke. Jet tried to slow her breathing, but there wasn’t any use. Not after she looked back up and saw the tears pooling in Mads’ eyes.

 

“Mads?”

 

“Any of this shit ?” Mads repeated shakily, and the tears started streaking down his face. Jet’s gut twisted, but she couldn’t get any words out. “So, what now?”

 

“Um,” Jet inhaled sharply. “Poison’s crew has a place… m’ gonna stay there.”

 

“Right, yeah,” Mads sniffled. “Poison’s good.”

 

“...Mads?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Jet watched Mads shamefully wipe the tears from his cheeks. “M’ sorry.”

 

“Yeah,” Mads nodded before turning away from Jet. “I know you are,” he muttered, and walked into his bedroom without another word. 

 

Jet watched him go, letting out a heavy sigh as her knees gave out. She curled up on Mads’ couch and squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out everything until morning.

 

---

 

2019 - Zone 3

 

Poison was on their toes, balanced on the top of a step stool in order to reach the top of the diner wall. The peeling, cracked walls made for an eyesore of a home, and Poison hated it. But they only had spray paint, so they decided to do what they did best and make a masterpiece out of it.

 

Their radio sat on the floor beside the stool with the volume cranked as loud as it would go. Poison set it up with the hopes that Ghoul would get the hint and leave them the fuck alone all day. Poison didn’t want to be angry at him, but they couldn’t help themself. And even their attempts at therapeutic art wasn’t helping anything. 

 

And then, the door opened.

 

“Jet! Hey! What’s up?” Poison exclaimed, jumping down from their step stool and hurrying to turn down the blaring music. “Ignore the mess, I’m tryna make this place look cuter. We’ve spent the last three days movin’ in and makin’ it home, y’know?”

 

“Yeah,” Jet nodded as she eyed Poison’s handiwork. “Looks shiny.”

 

“You good?” Poison tilted their head, finally looking closely at Jet. Her hair was messier than usual, and it seemed like she hadn’t taken off the makeup she was wearing when Poison saw her last night.

 

“M’ good, jus’ came to check how movin’ in was goin’,” Jet gave up on trying to fake a smile. “An’ also ask if, uh,” she shoved her hands into her pockets. “Ya got room for one more?”

 

Poison paused. Jet glanced down and caught the sympathetic look in their eyes. Poison knew something was up, but they didn’t ask any questions. Jet was grateful for that.

 

“F’ course, Jet,” Poison smiled softly. “For you? Always.”

Chapter 2: Tears

Notes:

again. read the tags for the warnings.

2019 - Zone 3

 

Kobra spent his evening trying to cure his boredom, hanging around the diner while he waited for Poison and Ghoul to get back from their jobs at Hyperthrust. It felt like Kobra’s life was back to his fucked up version of normal. 

 

He had his headphones over his ears, listening to the same few songs he owned, all of which Poison gifted him years ago. With his head resting against the window, Kobra watched the headlights of Ghoul’s truck grow brighter as he came back home. When the door pushed open, bringing in a gust of the night’s cold air, Kobra pretended to be asleep and let Ghoul walk right past.

 

Poison would be home any minute now, Kobra figured, so he went back to their shared bedroom to wait. It wasn’t long before he heard the telling sounds of Poison’s bike pulling up to the diner. They made no effort to be silent when they slammed the front door shut and stomped through the diner, entering the room with an exhausted huff.

 

Kobra looked up just as Poison walked in. They stared at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes as they tried and failed to blink back tears. Kobra instantly sat up, wordlessly asking Poison, are you okay?

 

“He’s such a fucking coward,” Poison sobbed.

 

They immediately took Kobra’s silent offer when he shifted and opened his arms for Poison. The redhead all but collapsed beside him, making themself as small as possible as they curled up into Kobra’s side. Their arms snaked around Kobra’s middle, squeezing him tightly while they cried into his shirt. Kobra’s head jerked back at Poison’s touch, but he tried his best not to move too much while Poison hung onto him like this.

 

“Hmm,” he wiggled his arm out from where Poison had it pinned down and carded his fingers through Poison’s hair. He could feel them shaking from the sobs that wracked their body. Tears were soaking through Kobra’s shirt, but he didn’t care.

 

Kobra knew that Ghoul had been acting pretty withdrawn since the team got back to the desert. Kobra really believed that Ghoul cared for Poison, and it felt good seeing his big sibling get the love they deserved. But now, as Poison cried themself to sleep in his arms, Kobra was conflicted. Ghoul was good. He shouldn’t be hurting Poison like this.

 

---

 

Poison left before Kobra woke up. They were off finding paint supplies. Kobra would’ve known that had he paid more attention to the note that was left beside his bed. Instead, he stretched out across the mattress in the absence of the redhead, falling back asleep for at least another hour before Ghoul started knocking on the door.

 

“Hey, Kid,” Ghoul greeted the second that Kobra opened the door, rocking sweatpants and sleep-matted hair. “M’ goin’ out today, you wanna come with?”

 

Kobra eyed him skeptically. What brought Ghoul and Kobra together was Poison, and if Ghoul didn’t want to be around Poison anymore, Kobra couldn’t see why he’d want to hang out with him.

 

“No,” he mumbled. His head tipped forwards with a sharp whistle.

 

“Come on,” Ghoul begged. “The diner’s nice an’ all, but me an’ you both know that we can’t just sit an’ rot in here all day, right?” He looked at Kobra with a glimmer of desperation in his eyes, like he’d rather do anything than be alone. And while Kobra enjoyed isolation, part of him felt bad for Ghoul at this moment. “Please?”

 

Kobra didn’t ask why Ghoul couldn’t just ask Poison. He knew why. 

 

“Just a few hours?” He asked instead.

 

“Just a few hours, yeah, for sure,” Ghoul nodded his head eagerly. “Is that a yes, Kid?”

 

“ Hm— Kay,” Kobra shrugged. He didn’t know when Poison would be back, but he hoped they wouldn’t lose their mind knowing Kobra chose to spend his day with Ghoul. 

 

He pulled on a pair of jeans and a falling apart black leather jacket with duct tape around the shoulders and elbows. It wasn’t Kobra’s style or colour. He didn’t even feel like a real Killjoy in it. The jacket was supposed to be temporary until Kobra found something better. He glanced at himself in Poison’s broken mirror, ran his fingers through his hair, adjusted his sunglasses, and ran to catch up with Ghoul.

 

Ghoul’s truck was uncomfortable. The worn in seats were so aged that sitting in them felt like sitting on nothing but metal. Trash that was haphazardly tossed while driving littered the floor. Kobra could barely see his own feet. The inconsistent rumble of the engine scratched at Kobra’s eardrums, making him twitch and thump his head into the seat behind him over and over again. The worst part was the painful tension between Kobra and Ghoul as they drove down Route Guano together in awkward silence.

 

“Hmm—huh,” Kobra’s head shook. “Where we going?” He asked, hating how quiet Ghoul was. “Supply run?”

 

“Nah, this’ll be way more fun than a supply run,” Ghoul replied, quickly glancing away from the road to smirk at Kobra. “You remember fun, right?” He chuckled.

 

Kobra rolled his eyes and looked away from Ghoul. Yes, he remembered fun. Fun was the first two years he spent in the desert, just him and Poison. Back when his only worry was finding a comfortable place to sleep and something good to eat. Years before anyone was hunting down Kobra and he became a danger to everyone around him. Years before he got that stupid power.

 

Ghoul pulled up to a populated expanse of desert, where someone had built tall sets of bleachers that stopped Kobra from seeing what was on the other side. He furrowed his eyebrows at Ghoul. Did they really just drive to the total opposite side of Zone 3 for some crowded social event? This was Poison’s type of thing, not Kobra’s.

 

“Trust me on this, it’s gonna be metal,” Ghoul winked, leading Kobra towards the ruckus and chaos. The moment the two stepped into the large ring, a piercing loud engine zoomed by.

 

“Aye—” Kobra’s hands slapped over his ears.

 

“Shit, yeah, sorry, shoulda mentioned that it was loud,” Ghoul winced. “You good?” He asked, and Kobra nodded despite himself.

 

“We’ll see better from up ‘ere,” Ghoul said as he climbed a set of stairs, sitting himself and Kobra at the top of some bleachers. 

 

Now that Kobra was up there, he could finally see what all the noise was about. A round racetrack had been dug into the sand, and dozens of neon racers ripped through the dust on souped up bikes. The crowd roared when the fan favourites zipped by, racing each other to a finish line drawn in the dirt. 

 

There was something about the aggressive pride each and every racer had as they repped their colours on the racetrack. Something in the cheers coming from the fans. Something in the suspense and excitement of each race. Kobra was in awe.

 

Even with his hands covering his ears, Kobra’s knees bounced with excitement as he and Ghoul watched race after race, choosing their favourite bikes and riders.

 

“Was I right?” Ghoul turned to Kobra. “Fun, yeah?”

 

Kobra’s head nodded.

 

---

 

There was a jammed door that branched off from the diner’s kitchen that Poison didn’t dare touch when they first moved in. Now here they were, two weeks later, prying it open with a crowbar they found lying around—it was probably Ghoul’s—to finally figure out what’s been hiding back there. Jet would be back with her stuff soon, and Poison needed to make space for her. They were already rooming with Kobra, and Poison would never force Jet to share a cramped storage room with Ghoul of all people. The creepy locked room attached to the kitchen was their last option, so Poison kept pulling on that crowbar.

 

The door finally popped open with a loud crunch. The old, rotting wood split in a million different places, shooting projectile splinters straight at Poison. They groaned softly and cringed, “Well, fuck.”

 

Reaching up, Poison realised that the door only had one hinge that was screwed in at the bottom. “Oh, so you’re just completely fuckin’ useless then, huh?” Poison asked the door, shaking their head. “Let’s hope Jet’s a carpenter or some shit, or else she just don’t get a door. I guess a curtain can work for now.”

 

The only source of light in this room was coming from the kitchen windows through the doorway that Poison had just tore open. In the otherwise pitch darkness, Poison could smell the stale scent of dust that must’ve been collecting inside for years. Much like the rest of their diner-turned-home base, this room had been pretty much cleared out and raided for anything valuable. Poison sighed heavily and got to work on ripping this broken door off the wall before Jet got back.

 

When the Trans Am pulled up, Poison wasted no time and started helping Jet unload all of her shit. And Poison briefly forgot that she’d been living in the desert her whole life, because Jet had a lot of shit. The car was packed full of boxes holding gear, rolled up maps of the Zones, Jet’s weird diaries for the ghosts, and enough clothes to make Poison extremely jealous.

 

“Psht, it’s almost all junk,” Jet laughed when Poison commented on her collection. “My mom could never get ridda shit, an’ I guess I can’t either.”

 

“It’s cool as fuck, though,” Poison shrugged, unboxing a stack of books that held the stories of every ghost Jet had met over the years. Poison curiously flipped through the pages, admiring the beauty of Jet’s power. Until they found a book that was completely empty, filled with nothing but blank pages.

 

“Ya can have that if ya want,” Jet spoke up from the other side of the room. “I got too many. You draw, yeah?”

 

Poison smiled and nodded. “I do, yeah.”

 

“Take it,” Jet insisted, and as much as Poison wanted to argue, they instantly hugged their new sketchbook to their chest and thanked Jet.

 

Luckily, the lack of lighting was not an issue for Jet. She owned two lamps she had picked up years ago out of a Battery City dumpster, and enough candles to keep a whole family warm through the night. Poison eyed the candles, the symbols painted on Jet’s books that matched the ones inked into her skin, and the prayer beads that hung around her neck and wrists. Poison would have to ask Jet all about the Phoenix Witch some day. If there really was a higher power keeping Killjoys safe, Poison would like to know about Her.

 

“So, what happened?” Poison asked casually while they zipped open a black bag to find multiple spare blasters, each painted with their own unique designs. “Why can’t ya live at Mads’ anymore?”

 

Jet paused and glanced over her shoulder, meeting the other Killjoy’s eyes. “Poison, I broke up wit’ him.”

 

Poison’s heart sank to the floor. “Oh,” they exhaled. Their face turned red. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

 

“S’ fine. Really,” Jet shrugged.

 

“Okay, maybe, but weren’t y’all together for, like, two years?” Poison frowned, watching Jet nod her head slowly. “That’s rough, Jet. M’ sorry. If ya ever wanna talk about it, I’m here.”

 

“Yeah,” Jet brushed them off and went back to nailing the painted maps to the wall above her bed. 

 

Inhaling a deep breath, Poison tried not to dwell on Jet’s nonchalant attitude towards her breakup. The redhead distracted themself with a small cardboard box labelled ‘Acid’s’ . They carefully lifted the lid and found an impressive collection of aged polaroid pictures. Poison gasped and picked up the first picture. They came face to face with an adorable little kid with short, curly hair, and a wide toothless smile.

 

“Hey,” Jet’s voice caught them off guard.

 

“Is this you?” Poison asked, grinning.

 

“Don’t touch those,” Jet snatched the box out of Poison’s hands and hurriedly put the lid back on. 

 

“Kay, sorry,” Poison put their hands up defensively. “I didn’t realise they were that special.”

 

“They ain’t special,” Jet muttered, hiding the box on a top shelf behind two other boxes. 

 

“Really?” Poison’s brow quirked. “That looked like your whole life was in that box. Seems pretty special to me.”

 

Jet shook her head. “Just—Don’t,” she stuttered out, and Poison felt guilty over how shaken up she suddenly sounded.

 

“Hey, look, if ya mad about me seein’ that old pic, it’s okay,” Poison took a few steps closer to her and shrugged. “I mean, I was a boy once, too, y’know.”

 

A small, grateful smile cracked through Jet’s expression. “S’ not that,” she muttered, facing Poison again. “But thanks.”

 

The air shifted inside the diner as the front door opened. Poison cursed under their breath and left Jet to finish moving in by herself. They stormed into the main part of the diner and found Ghoul still talking Kobra’s ear off after spending almost the entire day Destroya knows where together. 

 

Ghoul spotted Poison and quickly shut up. The coward didn’t even bother acknowledging Poison before he hurried out of the room. Poison’s heart hurt.

 

“Where were you guys?” Poison interrogated Kobra, who now stood still in the middle of the diner in some shiny new racer jacket that Poison had never seen before.

 

“Out,” Kobra said, snapping his fingers and hitting them against his chest. “Hmm.”

 

Poison grumbled. “What are you wearin’?”

 

“Jacket,” Kobra shrugged.

 

“Yeah, I can fuckin’ see that,” Poison rolled their eyes. “Where’d you get it?”

 

“Bought it.”

 

Poison knew they shouldn’t have been mad at Kobra. He’s his own person and he’s allowed to hang out with who he wants. The fact that Poison was turning hot with anger over it was selfish, but they couldn’t wrap their head around it all. They wanted to know what Kobra did to earn Ghoul’s attention and why Poison couldn’t do the same. They needed answers.

 

Late that evening, Ghoul was cornered by Poison, who had stomped up to him and got him out of the booth he sat in to repair his faulty blaster.

 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Poison asked, keeping quiet so they wouldn’t draw in Kobra or Jet’s attention. 

 

“I dunno what ya talkin’ about, Red,” Ghoul said calmly.

 

“Don’t Red me right now,” Poison spat. “I really liked you. I really like you. An’ I thought you liked me too, but now you can’t stand to even be in the same fuckin’ room as me, so what gives?” Poison rambled on, very aware of where their tipping point was and avoiding it at all costs. The last thing they wanted to do was burst into tears in front of Ghoul.

 

Ghoul frowned and sighed heavily like he’d been caught in the act. He dragged his hands down his face with a quiet groan. “Look, Poison. S’ jus’... S’ really fuckin’ hard to look at you right now.”

 

Poison felt the lump in their throat rising, but they swallowed it down and took a step back. “What the fuck does that mean?” They asked, turning their hurt into anger.

 

“No, Poison, it’s not—” Ghoul stopped himself. He titled his head back until it hit the wall behind him and he was staring at the ceiling. Ghoul looked like he was about to cry, too. “Everything’s just’ been goin’ to shit.”

 

Poison held their breath so they wouldn’t start crying. But they didn’t say anything. They just stared at Ghoul and waited.

 

“I jus’ wanna go back in time before all this,” Ghoul said in one exhale.

 

“Before what ?” Poison asked, stone faced.

 

“The last few weeks of my life have been totally fucked,” Ghoul admitted shakily, holding his stomach as if it made him sick to talk about. “I was just fine at the club for three years. And then it all gets flipped upside down. I’ve been so fucked up since—since—” 

 

“Since you met me,” Poison finished his sentence with a bite in their tone.

 

“What? No! Poison—”

 

“Kay, well, m’ sorry Ghoul,” Poison’s head shook as they talked. Their mouth moved faster than their brain did, but they were pretty sure it was just the pain talking now.

 

“M’ sorry I ruined your fucking life.”

 

They turned on their heel and bolted before Ghoul could say anything else. Poison ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind them at the very same moment the tears started streaming down their face. They gasped, covering their mouth with both hands to mute the sobs that tore out of their throat. 

 

Poison’s body shook as they landed on their knees, watching the tears that fell from their eyes soak into the fabric of their pants. Distantly, they heard Ghoul’s footsteps pass by followed by the door to his room closing. Poison cringed.

 

Ghoul was the first person Poison had met in the desert that they felt like they could trust. He saved their life. Multiple times. And before the city mission, Poison could look at Ghoul and see a real future with him. And Poison thought it was mutual.

 

“S’ really fuckin’ hard to look at you right now.”

 

Poison reached for the bottom drawer under the sink; the one they had claimed belonged to them. Their shaky hands dug through makeup and bottles of hair dye until they found a small tin designed for a sewing kit. 

 

They shakily got to their feet and leaned over the sink before opening the tin. Through teary and blurred eyes, Poison stared down at the razor blades and sobbed.

Notes:

i missed these goobers between Star Crossed and now.

Chapter 3: Hero

Notes:

itty bitty disclaimer; i do technically misgender both poison and kobra in a flashback, however it is before either of them come out and are still going by their old names.

otherwise plz see tags for warnings!

enjoy!

2019 - Zone 3

 

Kobra had started going out with Ghoul pretty often. Whenever Ghoul had a day off, he’d take Kobra to the Crashtrack. Poison was acting off—they were ignoring Kobra and Ghoul in favour of spending time with Jet—so Kobra saw no issue with spending time with Ghoul.

 

This time, when the two Killjoys were headed to the Crashtrack, Ghoul turned the volume way down on his radio until Kobra could barely even hear the music anymore. Ghoul was quiet for a second before he finally asked, “Ever think of signin’ yourself up for the race?”

 

“Aye—hm,” Kobra straightened his back and squinted at Ghoul. “No.”

 

“Come on, Kid! I ain’t ever seen anyone more in love with the Crashtrack than you,” Ghoul smiled, keeping his eyes focused ahead of him. He missed the sight of Kobra’s middle fingers flipping off no one in particular. “Ya can drive a bike, can’t ya?”

 

“Ugh—hmm,” Kobra’s head jerked to the side. “I can drive— hm. Poison doesn’t let me because— aye!” Kobra’s whole body lunged forwards, locking his seatbelt in place. “Because that,” he mumbled.

 

“Really? That’s fuckin’ stupid,” Ghoul’s nose scrunched up.

 

“Not really,” Kobra shrugged, teeth clacking. “Huh, hmm. Look at me.”

 

“Kay, sure, maybe that’d be a lil’ dangerous,” Ghoul admitted, cringing at the loud smack of Kobra’s hands hitting his own chest. “But, it ain’t always this bad, right?”

 

“Huh,” Kobra growled a little, smacking his chest again. “No,” he said shyly. Kobra still wasn’t used to other people talking about his tics like this. Ghoul treated the tics as only a small piece of Kobra, not his defining trait. Kobra appreciated it.

 

“See?” Ghoul exclaimed. “On better days, you could be tearin’ up those tracks!” 

 

Kobra clenched his jaw, trying to stop himself from biting. He let Ghoul’s words sink in as he stared at the floor. “Still dangerous,” he muttered.

 

“What?” Ghoul glanced over. “Trust me dude, there’s med guys on scene, an’ ya wear helmets—”

 

“ I’m dangerous,” Kobra interrupted, still refusing to look up.

 

“Kid, I know a lotta dangerous ‘Joys, you ain’t one of ‘em,” Ghoul chuckled and looked back at the blonde just in time to see him nervously adjusting his sunglasses again.

 

Ghoul went quiet. He bit his lip, thinking about how he wanted to go about this. His hands drummed on the steering wheel. Poison always told him that he was too blunt and upfront sometimes. But maybe ripping the bandaid off wasn’t the worst idea right now. 

 

“It’s that brutal power of yours, ain’t it?” Ghoul asked, and it caught Kobra off guard. “You’re scared you’ll lose the glasses or somethin’ and hurt someone?”

 

Kobra sank deeper into his seat and blushed red. Part of him hated Ghoul for reading him like a book. But then again, Ghoul got it right on the money, which meant Kobra didn’t have to admit anything. He just nodded his head. “H-Huh.”

 

“Kay, but how many times have we hung out? An’ look at me, I’m still alive,” Ghoul lowered his foot down onto the brakes as he pulled up to the Crashtrack. “Ain’t I?”

 

“Yeah,” Kobra sighed. “Still hard.”

 

“I know it’s hard,” Ghoul nodded. “But y’know what this is?” He pointed out the window towards the bleachers that surrounded the racetrack. “S’ you gettin’ out! Meetin’ people! An’ all of ‘em are still alive! ‘Cuz you ain’t as dangerous as ya think, Kobra.”

 

Kobra’s eyes followed to where Ghoul was pointing. “Hmm—aye!” His head snapped back. When he turned back, the corners of his lips quirked up into a small smirk. “Yeah,” he repeated.

 

Ghoul smiled. He was proud of the Kid.

 

“Y’know,” Ghoul turned off the ignition and leaned back, making no indication that he wanted to go to the Crashtrack just yet. Instead, he stared up at the roof and sighed. “I had no fuckin’ clue the city put programming in my brain.”

 

“Hm?” Kobra’s head tilted.

 

“They always told me they never touched my head,” Ghoul frowned. “An’ then I go back there for the first time since I was twelve, an’ she fuckin’ activates it.”

 

Kobra nodded slowly as he listened to Ghoul talk. His mind went back to the fight inside Battery City, remembering the feeling of Ghoul’s punches. So hard, he knocked Kobra out.

 

“I broke out of it on my own,” Ghoul continued. “Duh. But part a’ me is always thinkin’. What if—” he shakes his head and leans forwards, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. “What if it kicks back in, y’know?”

 

Kobra felt his heart sink. He knew the feeling. He knew what it was like to be so afraid of yourself and what you’re capable of.

 

“S’ that why— hmm— you won’t talk to Pois?” Kobra asked quietly.

 

Ghoul chuckled dryly. “Yeah, Kid,” he shuddered slightly. “I keep lookin’ at their beaten face an’ thinkin’ to myself. I fuckin’ did that . I can’t—I don’t wanna hurt ‘em again.”

 

“But—” Kobra growled, teeth clacking again. “But how many times have we— mm— hung out? An’ I’m— hm— I’m alive,” Kobra repeated exactly what Ghoul had just said to him.

 

“Damn,” Ghoul laughed and sat up. “Wise words, where’d ya hear that?”

 

Kobra shrugged. “Bein’ scared sucks.”

 

“Tell me ‘bout it,” Ghoul nodded. “S’ easier when ya got people on ya side, though. Right?”

 

“Right,” Kobra’s fingers snapped. “Ghoul.”

 

“Sup?”

 

“Hmm— Can you do something for me?” Kobra got quiet again. The nerves made him smack his chest twice more.

 

“Sure thing.”

 

“Can you— hm. Can you talk to Pois?” Kobra mumbled. He cringed when he heard Ghoul sigh.

 

“I tried that already,” Ghoul slumped forward again. “Didn’ go too good.”

 

Kobra’s nose twitched. “Tell them what you told me,” he pleaded. “They’ll understand.”

 

Ghoul looked at the Kid in his passenger seat who idly picked at the rips in his jeans while his head ticced. He felt the nervousness that built up from admitting he was scared slowly fade away. Ghoul was happy he found a friend in Kobra.

 

“Kay,” Ghoul finally said, and Kobra perked up. “I’ll try.”

 

---

 

2014 - Battery City

 

Before there was Party Poison, there was Kai Shiro. Before the wild red hair, there were carefully trimmed brunette locks. And before the desert, there was junior high.

 

Kai broke the rules because he wanted to. It wasn’t for a rebellion. It wasn’t for the other troubled kids in the city. It was for Kai. And it was for Kai’s little sister. After putting up with all the doctors, teachers, and cops that wanted to control Kai and Abby like marionette dolls, Kai wanted nothing more than to see the city burn.

 

By thirteen, he was on watchlists. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew his name, and every kid and school worshipped him like he was their fucking saviour. When Kai walked through those halls, they acted like he owned the place. A million eyes were always on him, waiting to see what act of vandalism he’d commit next. His friends were obsessed with the ways he’d push the limits, cutting it just close enough that he never ended up in juvie. 

 

Kai and his friends were rough around the edges. They were always the ones in the shady corner of the schoolyard, passing around a pack of cigarettes that Kai got down in the Lobby. They had backpacks full of spray paint cans and knives discreetly hidden underneath the belts of their uniforms. Kai stood in the shade with his back against the wall, listening to his friends plan their next party. Under his arm stood Charlotte; the gorgeous little blonde that Kai had been dating for the past six months. 

 

Charlotte was awesome. She was smart and funny, but her wild side matched Kai’s perfectly. She didn’t come from much. Just a small family that lived a few blocks away from Kai. Charlotte was sweet, humble, and insanely talented. Kai loved everything about her.

 

The best thing about Charlotte was that she was her own person. She wasn’t on her knees, bowing down to Kai like the rest of their friend group. She never relied on Kai to get her out of shitty situations, or waited on him to save her from the hell that was Battery City. Charlotte was always determined to make it on her own. Having Kai around was just…nice.

 

“Are you guys excited for prom tomorrow?” Their mutual friend, Mara, asked with a wink.

 

Kai almost laughed. “Fuck no! What’s the point of a party if the school is running it?” 

 

“Good point,” Mara shrugged. “But you two are so winning prom king and queen! So you have to go!”

 

Kai pulled Charlotte in closer. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Come on,” Eric chimed in. “The entire school is voting for you guys. Obviously. Who else would they pick?”

 

Kai grumbled under his breath. This was everything he hated about being in this city. His shoulders were heavy, weighted down by everyone else’s expectations. They held him on a pedestal. Kept him under a spotlight. So whenever Kai fucked up and failed, it was on full display for everyone to see.

 

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be anyone’s hero. Kai didn’t care about protecting a whole generation of citizens against the demands and control of the city’s Director. He wasn’t cut out for a role like this. He was just Kai.

 

The only person Kai ever wanted to see him as a hero was Abby.

 

After his dad left and the doctors put his mom on enough pills to keep her quiet, Kai was the one raising Abby. He walked her to school, sang her to sleep, and made every single meal for her. Kai held Abby’s hand through doctor appointments and helped her swallow the pills that she hated so much. Kai’s entire world revolved around Abby. He was her hero. No one else’s.

 

“We’re going to prom tomorrow, right?” Charlotte asked that night as she lay in Kai’s lap. The two were snuggled up in his bed, pretending to do homework.

 

“I don’t want to,” Kai said honestly.

 

“But you’ll do it for me, right?” Charlotte grinned up at him. Smile lines creased her freckled skin. 

 

“For you? Of course,” Kai smiled back, leaning down to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. “I’ll put on the stupid prom king crown and everything.”

 

“Ooh, now I’m really excited,” Charlotte giggled and kissed him again. 

 

Rapid pounding against the front door echoed from downstairs. Both Kai and Charlotte jumped, startled by the sudden noise. They looked at each other, confused, before they heard Kai’s mom yelling at them.

 

“Kai! Get down here!” She screamed. Her voice carried right through Kai’s open bedroom door.

 

The two teens ran down the stairs and found themselves standing in front of Kai’s mother, who was holding onto Abby’s shoulders, and two Batt City agents standing in the kitchen.

 

“What’s going on?” Kai asked, squeezing Charlotte’s hand. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Abby, who stood there with a terrified, teary look in her eyes.

 

“Charlotte Lee?” The agent on the right asked. Charlotte hesitantly nodded her head as she was given some sort of document. She held the pages in her shaky hands, reading over it carefully while Kai watched her expectantly.

 

“What?” She exhaled, blinking her eyes as if she didn’t believe what she was reading. “...Re-education?” She muttered, glancing up to meet Kai’s eyes, horrified.

 

“Ms. Lee, you are coming with us,” the agent said, grabbing Charlotte’s wrist and escorting her out of the house.

 

“What!? Charlotte!” Kai ran after her, but the second agent had restrained him. “Let me go! Charlotte!” Kai screamed.

 

Kai was dragged backwards as the front door was slammed shut. He stared out the window and watched Charlotte get taken away. He didn’t even care that the agent was forcing him to sit down on a chair in the kitchen.

 

“Mr. Shiro,” the agent stood menacingly above him. Kai was still shaking and routinely glancing back at the window, hoping Charlotte would come back. A file was dropped onto the table in front of him.

 

“Me too?” He asked, but stopped himself the moment he opened the file. It wasn’t a re-education agreement. It was the results from a DNA test. Kai saw his and Abby’s names written very clearly at the top of the front page, right above a single sentence written in a bold font.

 

Not genetically related.

 

“Wha—What is this?” Kai panicked, glancing up at his mother, who stared at the floor.

 

The agent cleared his throat. “Kai, your mother has lied to you. You and Abigail are not real siblings.”

 

At that, Abby burst into tears. She screamed and thrashed, fighting her way out of her moms arms and collapsing on the floor. Kai choked up. This couldn’t be real.

 

“You’re lying,” he insisted. All he had to do was look in a mirror to know that they were lying. He and Abby both had their dad’s nose and eyes. They were almost identical, save for Abby’s thicker hair and Kai’s softer jawline. This was all fake, and Kai knew it. But Abby believed them, and she wouldn’t stop sobbing.

 

Kai flipped the page. He immediately dropped the file and stood up.

 

“No!” He shouted. He was staring down at an entrance form for a SCARECROW training program, and it was already signed by his mom. 

 

“Mr. Shiro, you’re needed in downtown Battery City,” the agent replied calmly, but Kai wasn’t there to hear it. He was already running back to his bedroom.

 

“Fuck, no, no, no,” he could distantly hear his mother screaming at him, followed by the fast footsteps of the agent chasing after him. Kai’s breaths were rapid as he hastily dug through his drawers, searching for the map he had drawn a few months ago. It was a map of the city, with a red dotted line drawn from their house to the Lobby. When Kai finally found it, he quickly folded it in half and stuffed it under Abby’s pillow for her to find later.

 

“Mr. Shiro! You are to come with me at this instant!” The agent suddenly appeared in his doorway, and Kai jumped.

 

“Okay! Okay!” He surrendered, putting his hands up and letting the agent direct him back downstairs. Abby was still crying, sitting on the floor as she watched her brother get escorted away. 

 

Before the agent could force him out the door, Kai turned around and made a run for Abby. He dropped to his knees and grabbed her face, thumbing over her tear stained cheeks.

 

“It’s all a lie,” Kai whispered, kissing her forehead. “Remember who your real family is.”

 

The agent grabbed Kai and dragged him away. Abby screamed for him, but Kai knew he’d see her again. Abby was smart. She’d find her way to the Lobby. And Kai would be there waiting for her, because there was no way in hell he’d be making it to SCARECROW training.

 

---

 

2019 - Zone 2

 

Poison knocked twice on the door to Doc’s station before they let themself in. Doc had radioed the diner and told Poison he had something for them. They weren’t given any other information than that, so Poison didn’t know what to expect.

 

They were delightfully surprised to see that the kids that Doc was so fond of were over to visit. They were sitting on the floor together, surrounding an old board game, when Poison entered.

 

“Poison!” Sweet, young, Styx tackled them into a tight hug. Poison laughed and quickly reciprocated it.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” they smiled. Ever since the team rescued the kids from Battery City, Styx had been particularly attached to Poison. Poison, of course, loved every minute of it. Styx’s bright and bubbly personality was infectious. She could brighten up any gloomy day.

 

“Hey Poison,” the kid with the bright orange hair sitting on the floor waved to them; H2O, or Hydro, as only his friends got to call him (Poison was honoured to have reached ‘friend’ status with the kid). To his left sat two kids Poison didn’t recognise; a young blonde girl in a denim jacket, and a taller kid with wild, frizzy dark hair. They both glanced up from the board game in unison, smiling softly at Poison.

 

“This is the Party Poison, the super amazin’ ‘Joy we were tellin’ y’all ‘bout!” Styx cheerfully explained to her two unfamiliar friends. Poison tensed up at the dramatic title, but smiled and waved anyway.

 

“Yo, Poison? Like, the leader of the Fab Four?” The tall kid asked as his eyes widened. Poison made a face at him.

 

“Yes!” Styx nodded, which had Poison even more confused.

 

“What the fuck did you just call us?” Poison asked.

 

“The Fabulous Four,” Styx supplied easily. “S’ what everyone’s callin’ y’all! ‘Cause y’all are heroes! Ya saved me an’ H, and ya saved a bunch of undergrads! Plus, ya took down the guy that was tryna kill all the powered ‘Joys!”

 

Poison stepped back cautiously. Why was this the first time they were hearing about this? Poison wasn’t a hero . Poison was Poison! They went into the city to avenge their brother and rescue Styx and Hydro. And now, Styx says they’re famous?

 

“I’m—”

 

“Poison,” Doc suddenly rolled into the room, and Poison had never been so relieved to see him. “Right on time, come in!” He waved them over and rolled his chair back into his broadcast room. Poison carefully stepped over the kids’ game and followed him.

 

“You know Chimp, right?” Doc asked. Sitting at his desk was Hot Chimp; Doc’s DJ on the road. 

 

“Yeah, f’course,” Poison nodded and waved at Chimp.

 

“Good,” Doc motioned towards an empty seat, silently telling Poison to sit down. “Chimp just got back with the reports on yer mission last week. Figured it may be somethin’ you and yer team will wanna know.”

 

“Oh,” Poison blinked and wondered when the desert would get over this stupid city mission. “Yeah, totally,” they said, despite themself.

 

“Well, Poison, as ya probably know, the Director’s still alive,” Chimp started with a frown. Poison nodded through an unsteady exhale. The team had found out about the Director a few days ago. “The current theories are that she must’ve had an underground panic room in the research centre. Or that she wasn’t present at all by the time Ghoul burnt the place down. But I guess none of that really matters, does it?”

 

Poison chuckled awkwardly. “Not really.”

 

“Movin’ onto the numbers, then,” Chimp glanced down at the yellow tinted notepad she had resting in her lap. “The city officials reported thirty-one deaths during the attack,” Chimp rattled off, and Poison’s heart sank.

 

“Fuck,” Poison sighed. They knew most of those deaths were BL/Ind scum that would’ve killed Poison if they had the chance, but it still hurt to hear it.

 

“But, the real number is twenty-two,” Chimp continued. “Because my desert sources say that we had nine city undergrads escape that day. And you an’ me both know that if a kid makes a run for it, the city will say they’re dead.”

 

Poison eased. Nine new Killjoys running through the Zones because of them. Maybe that was something Poison could be proud of.

 

“Other stats…” Chimp chewed on the end of her pen. “Eleven fired agents, fifty-two dead draculoids, and a forty-three percent increase in re-education cases.”

 

“What?” Poison nearly jumped out of their seat. “Forty-three?” Their breath hitched.

 

“Sadly, the citizens were in a panic after Killjoys terrorised the city. The Batts are tryna erase all evidence of the attack ever happening.”

 

Poison swallowed hard, but it didn’t do anything to soothe the rising panic in their chest. The rest of their visit at Doc’s went by in a blur, and before they knew it, they were back in the Trans Am and driving home. Still, they could not take their mind off of that number. Forty-three percent. How many innocent people were brainwashed and reset at the hands of Poison and their team? The amount of innocent kids—aspiring Killjoys—stripped of their passion and individuality?

 

How many Charlottes were gone because of Poison?

 

They gasped sharply and swerved off the road. The car screeched as they slammed on the brakes, just barely preventing a nasty accident. Poison’s panic had gotten the best of them. They couldn’t breathe right anymore. They gasped again and again, desperate to catch their breath between sobs. Poison’s vision went blurry with tears as they pulled at their hair, trying to stop themself from panicking.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” they screamed, punching the middle consol until their knuckles ached. The pain grounded them slightly, so they went back to pulling on their hair.

 

They were not cut out to be a hero. And yet here they were, back under the spotlight, so their fuckups were on display for everyone to see.

 

---

 

2019 - Zone 3

 

Ghoul convinced himself to take Kobra’s advice and finally decided to sit down and explain himself to Poison. He sat impatiently on top of a table in the diner with his legs swinging underneath him as he waited for Poison to get back home. 

 

They were later than Ghoul expected them to be, and he had nearly talked himself out of it three separate times. But when Poison shoved through the front door, Ghoul figured it was now or never.

 

“Poison—”

 

“Not now,” Poison spat. It was dark outside already, and Ghoul could just barely see Poison’s face, but it looked like they'd been crying. He leapt off the table and walked up to them.

 

“Poison, I’m sorry—”

 

“Not. Fucking . Now, Ghoul,” Poison pushed Ghoul out of their way and attempted to storm off, but Ghoul grabbed them.

 

“Please, Red, I gotta explain myself!”

 

“I don’t want you to!” Poison ripped their arm out of Ghoul’s grip and growled. “Stay the fuck away from me!”

 

Ghoul was left standing in the middle of the diner with his mouth hanging open like an idiot as he watched Poison stomp away and lock themself in the bathroom.

 

“Oh, shit,” Ghoul squeezed his eyes shut and held his head in his hands. He really fucked up this time.

Notes:

im so sorry theres no jet in this chapter i prommy she'll be back in chap 4

Chapter 4: Love

Notes:

hi :)

2019 - Zone 3

 

It was late in the evening, hours after a long shift for both Ghoul and Poison at Hyperthrust. Kobra was lying on the floor of the diner with his hands on his head and his eyes squeezed shut. He groaned and writhed in pain as the aftershocks of Poison’s power wore away. “Aye! Hah—mmm!”

 

Poison didn’t mean to trigger their power. They had just touched Kobra’s arm when they tried to ask him a question, and suddenly Kobra was screaming and Poison was seeing memories that didn’t belong to them.

 

“Fuck,” Poison recovered fairly quickly. The longer they had this power, the easier it was to handle the violent flashbacks through someone else’s life. However, when Poison came back to the present, they were pissed.

 

“Pois,” Kobra whimpered, sitting up and slumping against the wall. “ Hah— What the fuck?”

 

“What the fuck is right,” Poison said sternly. “You stole my fuckin’ bike?”

 

Kobra froze the moment he realised what memory Poison got access to.

 

“I borrowed it,” he replied, still holding his throbbing head in his hands. 

 

“I told you, Kobes! You can’t fuckin’ drive that!” Poison huffed and dragged their fingers through their hair. Did this Kid have a death wish? “Fuck! This is all Ghoul’s fault!”

 

“What? No,” Kobra quickly got back to his feet, meeting Poison at eye level. He understood why Poison was fed up with Ghoul right now, but they couldn’t just blame him for Kobra’s actions. “Hmm.”

 

“He made you take it! I know he was there, Kobes! I saw him!” Poison yelled. They could still clearly see Ghoul’s smiling face as he held onto Kobra while the Kid recklessly tore through the desert on Poison’s bike. “Ugh, he’s so stupid for thinkin’ he can just take my shit for your little fucking brotherly outings!”

 

Kobra’s brows furrowed. “Jealous?” He asked while his nose twitched.

 

“The fuck!? No!” Poison exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me ya goin’ to some—some fuckin’ racetrack every day?”

 

“Don’t matter,” Kobra answered instantly, and he could practically see Poison’s eyes glowing red.

 

“Ghoul is fuckin’ ruining you, dude,” Poison shook their head angrily to hide their heartbreak. “Since when do ya keep so many secrets?”

 

“You’re not my mom,” Kobra crossed his arms. 

 

“Kobes, in case ya forgot, our mom kinda sucked,” Poison rolled their eyes. “Also, I have a right to know where the fuck you’re taking my bike!”

 

“I don’t need to be babied,” Kobra suddenly raised his voice louder than Poison had ever heard him. “Hah—hm. An’ you’re all over me! Hmm—huh,” Kobra’s hands beat against his own chest. “Hmm—fuck— Jus’ leave me alone!”

 

And with that, he stormed off.

 

Poison hung their head low and let out a long, slow breath to calm themself down. They were so tired, but they couldn’t just follow Kobra into their room after that. Poison rubbed at their eyes and sighed, deciding to grab their jacket and head back outside.

 

They picked up a ladder that Ghoul had lying around and propped it up against the diner for easy access to the roof. Poison had discovered that the best spot in the diner was right on top of it. It was quiet, peaceful, and had an amazing view of the night sky. Once they were up there, Poison leaned back against the rusty old ‘diner’ sign and closed their eyes. 

 

Poison barely got ten minutes to themself before they heard footsteps below them. They tried to ignore it and keep their eyes closed. If it was Ghoul or Kobra, Poison didn’t want to see them anyways. As far as Poison was concerned, they had totally fucked it up with both of those guys. If there was one thing Poison could do right, it was getting everyone to hate them.

 

But their mind wouldn’t stop thinking about whoever was outside with them. With a soft groan, Poison crawled to the edge of the rooftop and leaned over. 

 

“Hey,” Poison muttered, and Jet looked up at them and half-smiled. Poison’s eyes narrowed when they saw the beer can in her hand. “Drinking again?” The redhead asked.

 

Jet shrugged and raised her other hand, revealing a second, unopened can.

 

“Alright, get up here,” Poison chuckled, taking the drink as Jet carried herself up the ladder. The lukewarm alcohol was just enough that Poison figured they might finally be able to relax tonight. They took a long sip and watched Jet settle down beside them, tucking her long legs underneath herself.

 

“That’s not a colour I’m used to seein’ ya in,” Poison hummed, causing Jet to glance down at the pink and black leather jacket she had on.

 

“That’s ‘cause it ain’t mine,” Jet shrugged. “It’s my mom’s. I took it wit’ me when I left.”

 

Poison smiled softly. “It’s cute. She probably had the best style, huh? S’ that where you get it from?”

 

Jet scoffed at the subtle compliment. “She was gorgeous.” Poison watched Jet tilt her head back, focusing her eyes on the sky above them.

 

“The stars are real pretty,” Poison said softly.

 

“Yeah,” Jet nodded. “She’s up there, y’know.”

 

Poison pulled their eyes away from the night’s twinkling lights. “What?”

 

“My mom. She’s…” Jet trailed off, as if she was distracted by the stars. “One of those stars is her.”

 

Poison contemplated this quietly, meanwhile Jet didn’t move. “Is that what happens to ‘Joys after they’re ghosted? They become stars?”

 

“The good ones, anyway,” Jet idly nodded.

 

“Wait, I thought they were ghosts,” Poison’s brows furrowed. “Ain’t that your whole thing?”

 

“Well, yeah, but they can’t be wanderin’ the desert forever,” Jet said like it was obvious. “They may be hauntin’ us, but the Witch’s final restin’ place for ‘em all is in the stars.”

 

Poison breathed in the cool night air and brought their knees up to their chest. “I like that,” they mused with a gentle smile. “S’ comforting.”

 

“Me an’ my mom were on the move at night a lot,” Jet continued unprompted. “Most ‘Joys think it’s safer under the sun. Not Acid. She was always sayin’ a lua é seu guia. As estrelas são suas amigas. ”

 

Lowering their drink from their lips, Poison tilted their head to the side and asked, “What’s that mean?”

 

Jet smiled. “The moon is your guide. The stars are your friends.”

 

A chilly breeze blew through the otherwise still and silent night. Poison sighed and pulled their jacket tighter. Jet had everything so figured out. She understood this desert from the dirt under her boots to the stars in the sky. Poison could only dream of being that in tune with their own life.

 

“So what’s up?” Jet said suddenly, pulling Poison back to reality. “Why we on the roof in the middle a’ the night?”

 

“Um,” Poison groaned, dragging their hand down their face. “Because everyone who’s in the diner right now fuckin’ hates me.”

 

Jet gave Poison a confused look. “You sure?” She asked, skeptical.

 

“I dunno what I did wrong, but Ghoul’s made it pretty fuckin’ clear that he don’t want nothing to do with me anymore,” Poison dropped their head and stared down at the can they held in both hands. They still felt disgusting. They weren’t able to stop thinking about what Ghoul told them. How hard it was for him to even look at Poison.

 

“He was obsessed wit’ ya a week ago,” Jet frowned. “What changed?”

 

Poison shrugged. “Wish I knew,” they mumbled, tipping their head back to get the last drops of their drink before they tossed it down beside them. 

 

Jet watched their actions carefully before adding, “There ain’t no way Kobra hates ya, right?”

 

“Go down and ask him,” Poison said and quickly put their arm out in front of Jet, even though she wasn’t moving. “Don’t, I’m kidding,” they sighed. “He jus’ told me I’m overprotective. That I act like his fuckin’ mom.”

 

“I mean… Do ya?” Jet asked softly. “I know how much ya love the Kid. But he a ‘Joy now, maybe ya gotta let him be his own dude,” she shrugged.

 

Poison hugged their knees as they stared out into the open desert. They nodded gently. “I know I’m overprotective,” they admitted. “Steppin’ back is a lot harder than ya think, Jet. ‘Cause I fuckin’ raised Kobes. Our mom did jack shit in the city, it was all me . I took care of him ‘cause she was too hopped up on fuckin’ pills.”

 

“Witch,” Jet shook her head, thinking about all the city borns she’s met over the years and the stories she’s heard of those fucking pills. “The city did that to ya parents when y’all were still kids? Evil.”

 

“It was a blessing, my mom was shit,” Poison scoffed. “An’ my dad left early on. Kobes never knew him. As far as I’m concerned, we never had a dad. There was jus’ some guy that hung around ‘til I was four.”

 

Jet listened sympathetically. Before she could even think, she muttered, “I wish I never had a dad.” 

 

Poison turned their head to the side, leaning it on their knees. They couldn’t read Jet’s expression from this angle; her hair blew in the gentle wind and covered her face while she  twisted all of the rings on her fingers again and again.

 

Chewing on the inside of their cheek, Poison spoke up. “We never talked about the city mission.”

 

Jet’s busy hands stilled. “That’s ‘cause I didn’t wanna,” she said softly. “Outta everyone, he was the worst fuckin’ person to find behind that door.”

 

Poison tried to picture it; the moment Shock turned around and Jet’s world seemingly fell apart. But in Poison’s memory, it was a blur. Their mind had been racing for a week now, and the details of the city mission were fading away.

 

“He did it,” Jet broke into the silence again. “When I was nine. He shot me in the face,” she reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing the eyepatch that covered her right eye. “He was aimin’ for my mom.”

 

Poison’s lips parted as they felt their heart sinking to the pit of their stomach. “...Jet,” they barely whispered.

 

She shook her head, like she didn’t need Poison apologising or having pity on her. “Y’know, I don’t give a fuck that I still look like a boy in those photos ya found,” Jet said instead. “Acid loved takin’ those pictures of us. M’ fuckin’ blessed to have ‘em. S’ somethin’ I got to remember her. But I can’t look at ‘em,” she exhaled heavily. “We’re both so broken in ‘em all. Beaten an’ bruised. Shock never stopped hurtin’ us.”

 

Poison felt tears in their eyes. Their heart ached for Jet. They stretched their legs out in front of them, shifting closer to her. Poison reached over and took Jet’s hands. It startled her, but she let them hold it.

 

“I used t’ have dreams ‘bout killin’ him,” Jet said quietly as she stared down at Poison’s thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand. “Now that I have, I guess m’ just mad at myself for thinkin’ him bein’ dead would fix everything.”

 

Poison didn’t know why, but they still wanted to tell Jet that they were sorry. They were sorry that they couldn’t change the past. They were sorry that they couldn’t stop the pain. Most of all, Poison was sorry that they were the one to drag Jet into the city.

 

Without knowing what to say, Poison rested their head on Jet’s shoulder, snuggling even closer by her side. They felt Jet relax into the touch and turn into Poison a little more.

 

Poison squeezed her hand to let them know that they were there for her. “Mads told me you’d been hurt before. But I had no idea.”

 

Jet sighed at the mention of Mads’ name. “Fuck, I feel so bad for ‘im. But I jus’ couldn’t do it anymore, I…” she trailed off.

 

“Was it seein’ your dad again?” Poison asked softly.

 

Jet nodded. “It took years to let someone get as close to me as Mads did. An’ all that shit was wrecked after the fuckin’ city mission,” her voice got quiet. Just a whisper in the wind. “M’ scared Shock fucked me up an’ I can’t actually love no more.”

 

Jet leaned her head on top of Poisons, so Poison took that chance to pull Jet into a real hug. “I love you, Jet.”

 

Jet’s arms wrapped around them, and Poison appreciated the warmth, realising just how cold they had gotten out there. “I love you, too,” she muttered softly. “Thank you, Poison.”

 

Poison hummed. “At least I can help one person in this diner.”

 

“Hey,” Jet combed Poison’s hair back with her fingers. “I’ll help ya work it out wit’ Ghoul and Kobra. ‘Kay?”

 

Poison sighed against Jet’s jacket. They didn’t know if it would ever work out with Ghoul, but they were grateful to have Jet on their side.

 

“‘Kay.”

 

---

 

2013 - Battery City

 

Rio walked down the white corridors, following close behind two agents and the Director. He kept his eyes pointed straight ahead, staring at the agents’ backs, so he didn’t have to look down at the blood on his hands.

 

His heart raced, beating violently against the metal in his chest. Rio tried to fight away his thoughts, but there was no use. He kept seeing flashes of red, and hearing the distant screams of the man he just killed.

 

His name was Wyatt. Rio remembered this from an assignment he worked on a year ago. But Boss just called him Agent 1208. He failed today. He tried to escape, and he tried to kill his fellow agents. Wyatt was a traitor to Boss. So Rio was ordered to end him.

 

Rio was marched into the Director’s office; a routine order of business after Rio completed an assignment. But instead of being sat down at the desk, Rio was backed into the corner with Boss looming over him.

 

She saw the tears in his eyes. She could sense the grief that Rio carried with him. Boss would have none of that. Rio knew it was against the rules. But Wyatt’s painful screams and desperate pleas still rang out through Rio’s head. He couldn’t stop himself when a sob escaped his throat.

 

“Enough,” Boss barked, and Rio was slapped across the face. He whimpered, but took it. Boss hit him three more times until the left side of his face was numb. Because that’s what Rio should be. Numb.

 

“You are a Weapon,” she told him. “We built you to kill. You are not built to feel.”

 

Rio covered his mouth before he could cry out again. He could mourn Wyatt when he was back in his sleeping quarters, he told himself. Rio swallowed back the heartbreak and tried to keep a straight face for Boss.

 

“You’re pathetic,” she said and grabbed Rio by the collar of his uniform. She walked him out of the office and back down the hall. “Emotion makes you weak, Weapon.”

 

Rio was pushed back into his sleeping quarters. He stumbled over his own feet until he was standing in the middle of the square white room with nothing but a bed. He turned around slowly and saw Boss standing in the doorway. Her silhouette was illuminated by the lights from the corridor outside.

 

“A thing like you can never love,” Boss said. “So quit pretending you can.”

 

She slammed the door. Rio heard the loud clang of the lock, and the lights went out.

 

---

 

2019 - Zone 2

 

Ghoul leans against the wall in Doc’s station as he listens to the man talk. Or at least, he tried to. But he found himself getting distracted every time he glanced over at the redhead sitting on the couch in the middle of the room.

 

“I need y’all out on a bit of a cleanup mission,” Doc says, and Jet furrows her eyebrows.

 

“Cleanup?” She asks. She was standing behind the couch with her elbows leaning on the backrest. Jet was always hovering near Poison these days.

 

“After y’all burnt the Director’s operation to the ground, the Ratts scattered,” Doc explained. “Some ran back into the city. Others abandoned they loyalty to the Batts an’ became Killjoys. But no matter what, the neutral territory between Zone 1 an’ the city is a wasteland. Now I sold some good shit to the Ratts in my day, an’ I want y’all to get to it before the city can.”

 

“So, we go there, pick up anythin’ valuable, an’ come home?” Poison shrugged. “Pretty easy.”

 

“Careful, the Ratt’s territory goes all ‘round the city,” Jet corrected. “S’ a lotta ground to cover.”

 

Doc nodded. “It’ll take a few days.”

 

“A few days?” Kobra frowned. He sat on the floor, far away from Poison, with his legs crossed as he rocked back and forth.

 

“Sounds good to me,” Poison decided. “Me an’ Jet will go.”

 

“No, no, no,” Doc shook his head. “I need all four of ya.”

 

“The fuck? Why?” Ghoul asked, annoyed. “Seems like those two are eager enough. Let ‘em go. Kobes an’ I got better things to do.”

 

Poison rolled their eyes. “I’m sure you do,” they scoffed, and Kobra’s head snapped up to glare at them.

 

“This is neutral territory still,” Doc interrupted the petty argument that was beginning to boil. “Who knows how many agents are patrolling out there. Safety in numbers, kids. I want all of you there to make sure you all get back alive.”

 

“Then I’m not going,” Poison crossed their arms and shook their head.

 

“Fine, those two stay here, an’ me an’ the Kid go!” Ghoul said.

 

“Guys,” Jet shook her head.

 

“Yer all going,” Doc clapped his hands together. “Ya hear me?”

 

“I hear ya,” Jet stood up straight. “C’mon. Wanna make it there before sunset or what?” She asked her team.

 

Poison rolled their eyes again. Still, they reluctantly got to their feet and followed Jet out the door, spinning the keys to the Trans Am around their finger. Ghoul and Kobra were a few steps behind them. Ghoul mumbled some curses under his breath, dread creeping up on him as he approached the team’s car.

 

“Hey,” Poison whipped around before they climbed into the driver's seat. They pointed sternly at Ghoul and Kobra. “Jet get’s shotgun,” they ordered, and glared at the two boys until they got into the backseat.

“Witch,” Jet muttered. “This is gonna be the longest fuckin’ mission ever.”

Notes:

insert witty end note comment here :)

Chapter 5: Smoke

Notes:

didnt think i was a victim of the ao3 author curse, but im currently loopy as all hell with a wicked fever, and my dog was hit by a car (he's fine), so...anyways enjoy the final chapter of hapless!!!!

2019 - Neutral Zone

 

Poison sat in the sand with the book Jet had given them in their lap. The pencil between their fingers moved swiftly as Poison drew… something. It was mostly just scribbles and circles that Poison was using to distract themself from their current situation.

 

Their only source of light and heat was the bonfire burning right in front of them. If they looked up, Poison would be met with a view of Ghoul’s orange glowing face glaring right back at them. He angrily tore into a can of Power Pup that he ate in silence, and Poison shuddered every time they heard the sound of chewing over the crackling of the fire. On either side of them, Jet and Kobra sat awkwardly across from each other, both eating out of their own cans. Those two also kept their heads down, making this the worst campfire ever.

 

The team spent the time between leaving Doc’s station and sundown doing exactly what they were supposed to; cleaning up the old Ratt camps. But of course, that couldn’t have been done without constant bickering between Poison and Kobra, which would start up every time Poison made a nasty comment about Ghoul. Jet would get sick of it and try to talk to Ghoul, which only made Poison angrier. Besides, it was useless anyways, because Ghoul would immediately push Jet away. This cycle repeated all day long until Jet called it and she started building this fire.

 

No one wanted to be here, but the night was cold and this was the only heat they’d find out there. It was quiet and horribly awkward, and then Jet tried to cut the tension.

 

“Watcha thinkin’ ‘bout, Poison?” 

 

Poison avoided looking at Ghoul and Kobra as they glanced up and turned their body towards Jet. “Fires,” they shrugged. “Rememberin’ all the campfire parties I used to host in the city.”

 

Jet smiled. “Didn’t think y’all were allowed to party in the city.”

 

“We weren’t,” Poison winked at her, and they both laughed. They distantly heard someone grumble something, but Poison didn’t care.

 

“I had fire parties, too,” Jet looked down into the flames, her skin shining beautifully in the light. “There was an ol’ wish makin’ ritual my family used to do wit’ fire.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Poison perked up. “What is it?”

 

Jet chuckled awkwardly. “S’ stupid. We just, uh, write down the wish we got and burn it… The smoke carries it to the Witch.”

 

Poison’s wide eyes reflected the orange flames as they nodded their head. “Yep. We’re doing that.”

 

“Wait, what?” Jet said.

 

“We’re doin’ the wish ritual thing,” Poison repeated. They tore four pages out of their book and passed one to Jet, and two to Kobra. The blonde rolled his eyes, but gave one to Ghoul anyway.

 

“I got one pen, so I’ll pass it ‘round,” Poison said as they scribbled down their wish and folded the paper in half. They tossed the pen to Jet and waited for the rest of their team to finish writing. “We could all use a miracle from the Witch, right?” They asked out loud. Only Jet nodded.

 

“S’ kinda stupid,” Kobra mumbled. His head jerked back as he grunted.

 

“S’ fun,” Poison corrected before glancing at Ghoul. “Are ya done yet?” They asked. Ghoul had been sitting there with his paper on his knee for a while, just staring at it.

 

“I’m thinking,” he said without looking up. He wrote something down, then aggressively scratched it out. 

 

“Huh— Jus’ write anythin’,” Kobra said quietly. Ghoul muttered something incoherent and finally made his decision. He sloppily wrote it down and chucked the pen at Kobra’s head.

 

“Aye,” Kobra’s face twitched. His hands moved quickly as he immediately wrote out a wish and passed the pen back to his sibling. They all sat there, with wishes in their hands, waiting.

 

“Now what?” Ghoul asked. “We jus’ chuck this shit in the fire now?” He moved to throw his wish, but Jet reached out and stopped him.

 

“Well,” she shrugged. “Ya s’posed to read it out loud first.”

 

“What the fuck? Why?” Ghoul defensively held his wish close to his chest as he crossed his arms angrily. “We already wrote it down. Can’t the Witch fuckin’ read?”

 

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Jet groaned. “As a kid, I was taught that’s the right way t’ do it.”

 

“Then we gotta do it the right way,” Poison insisted, earning three separate glares.

 

“Ya right, Kid, this is fuckin’ stupid,” Ghoul grumbled.

 

“Fine then!” Poison barked, unfolding the page that lay in their lap. “I’ll go first!” They said angrily and looked down at their own handwriting.

 

Jet, Kobra, and Ghoul watched them expectantly. The silence sent shivers up Poison’s spine as they read their wish over and over again in their head. Suddenly, they dreaded having to read it out loud. There was no way they could say this without sounding weak.

 

“‘Kay,” they nervously cleared their throat. “I wish I had control over my life.”

 

Even though they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the paper, Poison could sense the looks they were getting from their team. They knew they sounded crazy. Poison tried so hard to come off as confident as possible. With a deep breath, Poison let the dam break.

 

“I just—” they sighed. “After we got back from the city, I got all these new expectations on my shoulders. We’re s’posed to be fuckin’ heroes now. Y’know they call us the Fab Four? Y’all hear about that yet?” Poison took a peak at their teammates, but they couldn’t read anyone’s expression right. “Ever since I was ten, I had everyone’s eyes on me like I was the one that was s’posed to have all my shit together, but I don’t! I fucking don’t!”

 

Poison swallowed hard before continuing. “I can’t control anythin’ in my life. I can’t change how people see me, an’ I can’t stop ‘em from thinkin’ I’m some sort of hero. An’ it just keeps snowballing. I keep fucking up. I keep hurting people, so then I start hurting myself,” Poison choked on their words, but they muscled through it. “An’ the few people I wanna keep safe can’t stand to be in the same fucking room as me.”

 

Their heart was racing as their brain caught up with everything they had just said. Poison blinked back a few stray tears. They were too distracted to notice the scared expression Ghoul wore on his face as he looked at Poison over the fire.

 

“So yeah. I wish I had control over my life,” they repeated, and tossed their page into the flames. Poison’s eyes locked on the thin piece of paper as it slowly withered away. The heat stung their face, but they didn’t move. Not until Kobra spoke up.

 

“But— hmm— But you are a hero, Pois.”

 

The redhead flinched and their eyes snapped up to meet Kobra’s.

 

“Huh,” Kobra shifted in the sand ever so slightly. “You’re my hero.”

 

Poison rolled their eyes. “You don’t gotta lie to me, Kobes.”

 

“M’ not lying,” Kobra frowned. “Everything I do— hm —is modeled after you,” he said quietly as his shoulders ticced. Poison saw the way his lip quivered, and their heart sank. “Mmm— You keep saving my life, Pois.”

 

As hard as they clenched their jaw, Poison couldn’t hold back the tears. “Snakeboy,” they nearly sobbed. “I’m a terrible role model,” they laughed pathetically.

 

“No,” Kobra sniffled. “The best. You’ll always be the best,” he crawled around the bonfire on his knees and dropped down right beside Poison. “Huh— ” his head twitched. “And if you don’t know that, I’ll keep reminding you.”

 

Poison wiped at their eyes before pulling Kobra into a hug. He settled into his usual position easily; with his head up against Poison’s chest so he could feel their heartbeat. 

 

“We’re a team, Poison,” Jet said quietly, getting the redhead to glance up at her. “S’ on all of us now. We’re heroes together, yeah?” She smiled. “An’ if we fail, at least we failing together, yeah?”

 

Poison giggled softly. “Yeah.”

 

Jet exhaled slowly and picked up her own wish. She figured if Poison can open up, so can she.

 

“I wish I knew what real love feels like,” she read, just loud enough for her team to hear her.

 

Poison lifted their head again to frown sympathetically at her. “Jet…”

 

“My whole life, I thought love was s’posed to hurt,” Jet admitted.

 

“Love does hurt.”

 

Poison’s eyes widened when they heard Ghoul’s voice. They shifted their attention to him, but Ghoul was only focused on Jet.

 

“No,” Jet disagreed, shaking her head. “Thought I was loved when my dad beat the shit outta me,” she said shakily, and Ghoul seemingly retreated back into his shell. “Thought I was s’posed to wanna kill the people I loved.”

 

She shivered, despite sitting directly in front of the fire. Jet wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. “I saw love fuckin’ destroy my mom.”

 

Kobra hugged Poison tighter as he listened to Jet speak. Poison carefully threaded their fingers into his hair.

 

“I dunno what it feels like. Anytime I think I do, s’ a fuckin’ lie,” Jet finished and unceremoniously dropped her wish into the bonfire.

 

“You do, though,” Poison said, and Jet raised one brow skeptically. “Y’know what love feels like. That’s what this is. This team,” Poison rubbed their hand up and down Kobra’s arm. “S’ not romantic, but it’s love. Riskin’ your life for each other like we did on that mission? That ain’t something you do for someone unless you love ‘em.”

 

Jet couldn’t help but smile at them. “I do love ya guys,” she admitted softly. “I jus’ keep thinkin’ ‘bout Mads and…y’know.”

 

“It’s hard, I get it,” Poison nodded understandingly. “Ya brain and ya heart needs time to heal, Jetty. In the meantime, ya got us. Right?”

 

Kobra squirmed under Poison’s embrace. “Right,” he echoed.

 

Ghoul cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “Right,” he said, avoiding Poison’s eyes. 

 

Poison grinned and winked at Jet. “And that’s love, baby.”

 

There was still a creased piece of paper clutched in Kobra’s hand. Poison slowly let him go, encouraging their brother to sit up and take his turn making a wish. 

 

“Huh—aye,” his head shook. He didn’t want to play this game anymore. Poison and Jet, they made something good out of it. Now, Kobra just felt pathetic. Who was he to whine and complain about his life? 

 

Kobra felt Poison rest their head on his shoulder. Shakily, Kobra unfolded his wish as if he was afraid he’d say it wrong.

 

“I, uh— Aye!” His teeth clacked. “Hmm— I wish I never had powers,” he whispered.

 

Poison frowned. “Oh, Kobes.”

 

He swallowed before speaking. “I hate having to hide from everyone, but— ugh— I hate knowin’ I could hurt them even more,” he cleared his throat twice, blinking hard.

 

“Hey,” Poison sat up straight and swiped the hair out of Kobra’s face. “I been with you the whole damn time, an’ ya never hurt me. You’re smart, Kobes. I know you. You’d never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

 

“Yeah,” Ghoul chimed in, which shocked Poison a little. “S’ jus’ like I told ya, Kid. You’re not as dangerous as ya think.”

 

Poison chewed on their bottom lip as they listened to Ghoul talk. They exhaled slowly, realising that they didn’t hate Ghoul for getting so close with Kobra. It was exactly what Poison had told Jet; they were a team now. This was Kobra’s support system.

 

“It takes time,” Poison nodded gently and put their arm around Kobra’s shoulders. “An’ it takes slow steps. Like, the racetracks you an’ Ghoul are goin’ to. That’s a good step.”

 

Kobra shamefully dropped his head at the mention of the Crashtrack. “Sorry,” he mumbled, growling a little.

 

“Don’t be. I was bein’ stupid,” Poison assured him. “You deserve to have life a’ your own. An’ if it’s gettin’ you outta your shell, then I’m cool with it.”

 

Jet met Poison’s eyes and gave them a soft, proud smile.

 

“Just…” Poison pulled Kobra closer. “Don’t shut me out, ‘kay? I know s’ scary, but what’s scarier is the thought of me losin’ ya again.”

 

“Your gift is a parta’ you, Kobra,” Jet added. “Ya still young. Once ya learn to become one with ya gift, it gets easier. Promise.”

 

“Ghoul, s’ your turn,” Poison said softly, already flinching before Ghoul could glare at them. Kobra and Jet both looked up at him, waiting expectantly.

 

“Nah, m’ good,” Ghoul shook his head. “S’ stupid. Y’guys got yours outta the way, it’s fine.”

 

Kobra narrowed his eyes at Ghoul from behind his sunglasses. He didn’t believe Ghoul. Neither did Jet, because she tilted her head to the side and told him, “Ya wrote somethin’ down, Ghoul. Clearly, ya have somethin’ for Her.”

 

“No, it’s some bullshit answer,” Ghoul insisted and shook his head. “I was jus’ goin’ along with your fuckin’ game,” he said, but the wish was still in his hand.

 

“Ghoul,” Kobra muttered.

 

“Fine,” Ghoul sighed. He rested his elbows on his knees and fidgeted with the torn edges of the paper. “I wish I never left the city as a kid,” he said coldly. He crumpled the wish into a ball and carelessly chucked it into the fire, as if it didn’t matter. Poison, however, froze.

 

“What?” They squeaked out.

 

“Whaddya mean, what?” Ghoul scoffed. “Ya saw what happened when I went back. One click of a fucking button and I’m a Weapon again. They never shoulda let me go.”

 

“Ghoul, don’t say that,” Jet nearly whispered.

 

“Why not?” Ghoul tossed his hands up for emphasis. “At least in the city, I ain’t gotta worry ‘bout hurting someone I love, ‘cause I ain’t got nobody to love in there.”

 

Poison looked heartbroken all over again. “Why would you want that?” They asked. 

 

Love does hurt , they remember Ghoul saying.

 

“If I was still in the city, I wouldn’t hafta worry about this fucking —” he stammered, hitting the sides of his head with his hands. “Programming. I can’t trust myself anymore.”

 

Kobra sat up. “Ghoul, but you told me—”

 

“That’s different,” Ghoul snapped. “Your power don’t change who ya are!”

 

“We’re not in the city anymore, Ghoul, they can’t reach you,” Poison realised how desperate they sounded as they spoke.

 

“We don’t know that! Boss—uh, the Director—is still alive, ‘aight? Who’s sayin’ it won’t happen again?” Ghoul got to his feet, angrily looking down at his team as he spat into the fire. “I didn’t kill ya the first time, Red, but what about next time?” He asked before he turned and started stomping away.

 

“Ghoul,” Poison called after him, but he only picked up the pace and disappeared. “Fuck.”

 

---

 

Long after Kobra and Jet had both fallen asleep by the fire with jackets under their heads as pillows, Poison tiptoed over Kobra’s legs and found their way through the dark towards the Trans Am. Poison glanced up, grateful for the moonlight that night. 

 

They reached the car and hesitated. Poison could feel their heartbeat in their throat, but they knew they needed to do this. Swiftly, they opened the left door and climbed into the backseat.

 

“Hey,” Poison said as they slammed the door shut. They inhaled nervously, breathing in the familiar smell of blood, sweat, and leather seats.

 

“Hi,” Ghoul muttered, keeping his back turned to Poison as he stared out the window, looking at the stars.

 

“Sorry I’ve been such a bitch lately,” Poison muttered quietly. In the silent car, they still felt too loud.

 

“You’re not,” Ghoul mumbled. “I mean, you are a bitch, but that’s not… S’ not why I shut you out.”

 

Poison chuckled weakly at Ghoul’s comment. “It’s the bruises, isn’t it?” They asked, and they saw the way Ghoul froze. “They’re a constant reminder of the damage you can do, right? M’ makin’ it worse?”

 

Immediately, Ghoul shook his head. “Not you,” he said sternly. “You didn’t do anythin’ wrong. That was me .”

 

“I kinda did do somethin’ wrong,” Poison shrugged. “I didn’t let ya explain yourself. Besides, Ghoul,” they made the decision to slide along the seat to sit a little closer to him. “That wasn’t you.”

 

“Red—”

 

“I saw it,” Poison cut him off. “The way you looked at me. In the city. Those weren’t your eyes, Ghoul. I know ya’d never hurt me.”

 

“But I did,” Ghoul grumbled. “An’ it can happen again if—”

 

“If they getcha again, I know,” Poison frowned. “But weren’t ya listening to Jet an’ Kobes back there? We’re a team , Ghoul. We’ll keep you safe, but ya have to let us do that.”

 

Finally, Ghoul turned around. Poison could barely see his face in the dark, but they could clearly hear his shaky breathing. Poison moved even closer, encouraging Ghoul to keep talking.

 

“Red, m’ scared,” Ghoul whispered.

 

Poison reached out, finding Ghoul’s hand in the dark and squeezing it. “I’m scared, too. But it’s easier if we’re scared together. Please, Ghoul. Don’t keep shutting me out.”

 

Ghoul let out an unsteady exhale and muttered, “M’ sorry.” His hand moved, interlocking his fingers with Poison’s. “If I knew how much pressure you’ve been under—”

 

“Shh,” Poison hushed him, leaning their forehead against his. “I’ll be okay. S’ long as I have you three, I’ll be okay.”

 

Ghoul brought his free hand up to the back of Poison’s head, holding them in place. The two just breathed together. For how long? Neither of them knew. 

 

But Ghoul broke the silence with a gentle, “Red?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Out there…ya said somethin’ about hurtin’ others and hurtin’ yourself,” Ghoul whispered. “You’re not really hurtin’ yourself, are ya?”

 

Poison stilled. They were so close to Ghoul, they knew he could feel their every move. They tried not to pull back. They tried not to think about the bandages they taped to their chest that morning. Instead, Poison focused on Ghoul’s steady breathing and matched the pace.

 

“No,” Poison promised. “F’ course not.”

 

“‘Kay,” Ghoul exhaled. “Good.”

 

Ghoul’s hand moved higher, knotting itself in Poison’s messy hair.

 

“If I promise to tell ya the next time things get bad, do ya promise to tell me the same?” He asked, and Poison shivered under his touch.

 

“Yeah,” Poison barely whispered. “Yeah, I promise.”

 

And Ghoul closed the small gap between them, kissing Poison softly. Poison’s eyes slipped shut and they kissed him back. They braced themself on his knee and leaned closer until Ghoul had his back pressed against the window behind him. Ghoul’s arms snaked around Poison’s neck. Poison’s lips parted, deepening the kiss and welcoming Ghoul in closer than they’d gotten before.

 

“Red,” Ghoul pulled back and whispered against Poison’s lips. “Poison, I love you.”

 

Poison grinned. “I love you, Ghoulie,” they leaned back in and reconnected their lips. Poison knew there was only a few hours left in the night, but they wanted this moment to last forever.

Notes:

comment, kudos, and all that jazz!!

this is NOT the end! The Bad Kind of Luck is gonna keep going and going... so if there's something that feels ignored or unexplored, i promise you it'll be resolved in a future fic!!

anyways, keep an eye out for part 3!! <3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of The Bad Kind of Luck