FicWad

The sickening smell of his own singed flesh violated his senses. Numb from the last three hours of torture, the smell reached him through the haze of unconsciousness. Picking up his cinder block head strained his shoulders against a yolk that secured his frame to a metal stand that only allowed his toes to touch the concrete for support. His ears followed the sound of patent leather scrapping the floor and pacing around him.

"Welcome back to reality. No, you’re not dead although by now you should want to be ronin." Code name Party Poison, leader of the infamous Killjoys, began to compose himself in pieces and recognized the voice of his interrogator as Gary Levko, assistant second in command of Better Living Industries security. Although young by his contemporaries’ standards, he recently replaced Agent Cherry Cola who was the Killjoy's informant in BL until they terminated her months prior.

Party Poison was public enemy number one and his capture would mean a huge victory for Better Living. He knew they would make an example out of him after extracting any pertinent information. If he fell they expected the other Killjoys to follow soon. However, what an organization like Better Living failed to understand was free will, and that no particular Killjoy was of an authority above another, in fact that was against what code they did have. Party Poison was aware each member of the resistance- Rebels, Rogues and Ronin, of which The Killjoys were an individual gang- had protocol in these instances, preserve yourself and save the ideal.

"Are you paying attention, ronin?" Levko asked, pushing the cherry of his cigarette into his victim's skin earning a smoldering growl. Adrenaline raced through Party Poison's veins pulling him back to the surface and he thrashed against his bindings. "There you are big fish, I was wonderin' when you'd come around. They worked you good, huh?"

"Fuck you! Fuck you, and fuck you!"

"Spit fire, huh, matches that pretty hair of yours." Party Poison concentrated hard on his surroundings, fed up with the taunting. The only thing interrupting his thoughts was the searing pain in his shoulders from being suspended. Appropriate for the Scarecrow unit, Better Living's highest security team, their favorite device was the crucifier which hung people in the position Party Poison was in now, they were usually tortured and left to starve, but even he knew he wouldn't be here long. They would want to deliver him personally to Korse, the CEO of Better Living Industries and the mastermind behind it all. Just another insane bald fuck head, as far as the Killjoys were concerned. The more he thought about this, the more things began to seem strange.

As far as he could tell, he was alone, in a dark and nondescript room which appeared to be an abandoned car garage. Levko also appeared to be the only person guarding him, and with only a single ray gun attached to his hip. Now, he was aware employees of BL never traveled without at least a single Draculoid in tow, the main muscle for operations and enforcement, but even as his concussion began to fade he recalled several men beating and kicking him. Nevertheless, where were they now, he thought?

"Now when are you going to tell me where he is?" Levko, wearing a Japanese styled grey business suit and regulation haircut, swung a chair from across the room and straddled it backwards, pulling a butterfly knife from his coat pocket. Fluttering it open, he began slicing an apple dramatically and repeated his question. Party Poison was familiar with the tough act, the blades, the beatings, but upon seeing the chemically brightened apple emerge from his other pocket he couldn't help his mouth salivating.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Levko chewed a slice of succulent apple loudly, letting the juice drip from the corners of his mouth.

"Don't feign stupidity with me, I know all you Ronin's know Dr. Death's every move. He may be the most secretive of you brats, but you're his eyes and ears, right? When was the last time you saw him? Give me a little slack, and I'll give you some."

"Uh, well let me see, when was that?" Swinging his chair close to the side of the contraption, he made a show of placing the edge of the blade against the ropes supporting his victim's weight, waiting expectantly for his next words. "See, it's hard to remember when you guys bust me up like this."

"Stop playing, remember something useful, and this'll be over faster. Continue with the lip, and it'll feel a lot longer."

"Alright, uh, was that-" He pretended to concentrate. "Yeah, no, to many drugs in my college years, I got no fucking concept of time."

"Pity for that-" Simply by stepping down on the pulley system, Party Poison felt the excruciating pull of his entire body lifted by his arms which swung behind him. He cursed out in pain, but bit firmly on his mouth. "Told you." He slurped on another slice of apple.

"I didn't tell you're fucking goon heads, and I'll never tell you shit. You might as well just kill me now!"

"You fucking resistors are all the same, wanting to play cops and robbers, when all you are is bad for business. You think you're doing something noble? He's just a fucking DJ! Give me his coordinates, Ronin!" Levko was beginning to lose his cool; it wasn't just the stifling heat in the garage that was making him sweat. Party Poison could smell it and something else close by.

"What you monkey-suits are afraid of is just that, bad business, and one person spitting the truth is gon'na bring your whole little operation down." Then an idea struck, Levko hadn't used his name once in the interrogation. He remembered being on reconnaissance in the outskirts of the city, hacking source codes in Better Living's surveillance, but he was jumped miles from the Killjoy's distinctive vehicle, and he hadn't even been wearing his leather jacket which had his symbol sewn onto the back. Aside from the color of his hair, not an uncommon statement these days, there was no way to identify him without equipment, and if this goon didn't mention it he probably didn't know who he was dealing with. This filled Party Poison with a rush of laughter, he was practically tickled pink. He hadn't realized Levko was such an amateur.

"What the fuck are you laughing at? What's so damn funny?"

"Your aftershave."

"You haven’t had enough yet have you?" Levko swung an uppercut as hard as he could, enough to knock his breath out, but hardly a solid punch. This made Party Poison laugh even harder.

"Uh, yeah, do it again baby." He moaned. Levko’s soft knuckles contacted Party Poison's already bruised face and brought stars back to his eyes, but now he was into it because he could see it affecting him. This guy wasn't a warrior, he was merely a paper pusher and probably had never seen action. He probably felt it was his lucky day when his team ambushed and managed to subdue a lone Ronin, who to him were merely mercenaries of the dunes, but what he failed to realize was exactly who this Ronin was; a grave mistake.

Through the heavy fog clouding Party Poison’s head he suddenly heard disorienting shouts and felt Levko collapse at his hanging feet. In the dim light, two prongs lit viciously as electricity pumped through his body causing him to convulse violently. Before becoming entirely aware again, relief swam throughout his body as the rope lowered him onto a pair of strong shoulders.

"Party you with us? Come on kid, wake up now." A beautifully familiar voice kissed his ears. Like pure absolution, he relaxed into the grip of his good friend and Killjoy, Fun Ghoul.

"Ah, man is it glad to hear you." He mumbled. Two more pairs of hands sliced the ties from his wrists and arms and untied the knots around his shoulders.

"Sounds like it. Trip, check this guys shit, I don't want him waking up just yet." A young cadet, technically just a rebel but with enough cajones to hang with the Killjoys, code named Trip Catalyst, jumped at the order and began securing Levko with the bindings just cut from Party Poison. He rummaged his pockets and put everything, money, the knife, badges, the apple and a watch into his rucksack slung from his waist.

"Who else is here? Atom, is that you?"

"Yeah boss, it's me, now let's get you out of here, we can catch up later." The other accomplice was Atomic Kidd, boy wonder they called him, as much of a scientist as Fun Ghoul was a mechanic, Kobra Kid, Party Poison's brother and original killjoy, was a fighter and, some could even argue, Einstein because he might have dreamed up the A-bomb, but only Kidd could rebuild one out of scraps. They rescued him straight from Korse lab. They made him create terrible things under torture he refused to remember, consumed by the guilt when things were quiet.

Before he could even give them thanks, the men hustled Party Poison out of the building. Thankfully night fell outside, and he could see the glimmering outline of his beloved beauty, an old Trans am called Lady or The Beast, waiting for them nearby. Lying on the ground outside were the bodies of three slain Draculoids and one scarecrow member, distinguishable from his blank mask, an inexpressive logo of Better Living covering his now dead face.

"How'd you find me?" He asked as Trip Catalyst eased him into the passenger seat. The boys then filed into the back through the windowless doors. Fun Ghoul jumped into the convertible last, setting a few charges that trailed behind him and kicked up the engine with a dusty roar.

"We found Lady abandoned, and when we didn't hear back from you and Betty we knew something was up. Here-" Although his shoulders were much too sore to put it on, he thankfully took his characteristic blue and red jacket from Fun Ghoul, fingering the Dead Pegasus logo calmly. He thought briefly about driving stock cars with his father in the days before the war, accident, disaster whatever you wanted to believe happened. He always remembered that one thing when he looked at the logo; the memory was one of the remaining ones he had. Another thought then caught his attention.

"Wait, what happened to Betty?" Bulletproof Betty, one of the only female Ronin surviving, wasn't a Killjoy but rode frequently with them, and her and Party Poison were on reconnaissance when he was ambushed. He could tell by their silence the news wasn't good. "Did they ghost her?" He almost couldn't ask.

"Worse, last transmission said the Scarecrow unit took her to Battery City directly."

"Fuck, shit, fuck. Why? What the fuck are they going to do with her?" Fun Ghoul began to pull away from the garage, but pressed the detonator before giving the accelerator a rough push. He was no more than two hundred yards away when a bright and violent blast shook the night behind them, becoming a glowing bonfire as they sped away. Although there was no lights and no roads this far into the zones, they drove without fear or consequence.

"They know about her and D. Someone must have ratted." Party Poison's stomach plummeted into despair. He raked his fingers through his hair viciously, trying to process this turn of events. It was said that although the Killjoys were the most wanted men in California, as far as it concerned Korse and Better Living their good friend, co-conspirator, and watchman Dr. Death Defying would be the king in their fucked up game of chess because he was the last word of the people. He wasn't just a man, he was a symbol of the résistance there from the beginning and would be its end. Korse sought him relentlessly and any piece of the puzzle to his location and capture. Unfortunately, if they had Bulletproof Betty who was the largest piece of all, things looked especially grim.

"So what's the next step? She'll hold strong, but you know they won't kill her until they have something. We have to go get her."

"You aren't in any shape to fight."

"Fuck that, Ghoul; I'm not leaving her there a moment more. You know there isn't another choice." Fun Ghoul was being unnaturally serious even for a serious situation. In the face of danger he would get amped, not severe, and he hadn't looked at Party Poison once only kept his eyes locked onto the small spread of light from the high beams. This meant there was more.

"Death knows they have her. They broadcasted it, and Show Pony contacted us saying he left the lair, no note, no further coordinates, just gone." Now the same expression he wore, cast its shadow on Party Poison's face. He knew the score now. Ignoring the excruciating protest of his muscles, he pulled on his jacket and zipped it to his neck.

"Let's go get him before he does something stupid." Fun Ghoul nodded, gripping the steering wheel tighter and dangerously accelerating. They had five zones to cross before reaching Battery City and that was granted they didn't get caught.

"You know this might be it. We should go for it; we might not get another chance." He meant the final show down. Korse or them, that was the score. It was something they planned for years, but never knew when the opportunity would arise. Party Poison, although nervous for the first time in his memory, knew he was right. This was it.

"Atom, first chance you get, throw out an all points. Use Dr. D's frequency so everyone hears. I don't care if the drac's do either, let them know we're coming. It's already a trap. Trip, you know the drill, weapons."

"Any famous last words for your epitaph?" Atom asked, already composing the code he would need to hack the system on his hand held creation, Vend-a-hack, an all purpose computer used to override any computer.

"Give 'em hell, Kid?"

"Poetic." Fun Ghoul cracked his first smile and punched Party Poison in his tender shoulder. The atmosphere was light for what faced them, but that was the price of living in this world, either complacency or death nothing in between. If they didn't go down with ray guns blazing, what legacy would they leave? Part of the résistance was just the idea, that if they burned bright enough they would never die. Party Poison just wished, as he reached into the glove box and passed out their last cigarettes, breathing in the sweet smoke like desire, he had more time to get it out there. He began to hum a melody, and narrowed his eyes on the dirt road and darkness ahead.