On Dust Storms of Rebellion Part 2

[vonraphael]

*

The bar could be described as seedy, dirty, drab, but it was definitely not quiet or desolate. It thrums with the conversations of the vibrantly-clothed people squeezed into it and beats with bass-boosted techno music Mikey doesn’t recognize. They weave through the crowd, careful not to lose sight of each other until they find a large booth in the far corner, surprisingly unoccupied. Brian heads off to get drinks and Gerard and Frank decide to take advantage of their first time really spent with Ray.

“So,” Frank starts. “The fourth Killjoy, huh?”

Ray blushes, “I didn’t mean to steal your thunder I was just trying to get my family out of the city.”

“I understand,” Gerard says. “So, why?”

“Why? Why what?”

Gerard leans in conspiratorially. “Why try to get out?”

“Because I’m sick of the restrictions and the control and the safety. Life isn’t safe, people shouldn’t be sorted into boxes in a black and white life. People deserve to be free to make their own mistakes, and achieve their own successes. But most of all I think it was because I missed the music. Music is, in all effects, illegal in the city and my life isn’t anything without music. I was a guitarist before BLI took over and I- No, I’m still a guitarist. I haven’t played in forever, but I still define myself by that. I’m a musician, something it is very dangerous to be in Battery City. And I just- I guess I couldn’t live in their smothering security anymore. No matter what it meant, I had to get out.”

Gerard sits back, staring at Ray thoughtfully. “Huh.”

“Oh my God,” Mikey mock gasps, “You’ve rendered him speechless!”

“Mark your calendars!” Frank crows, grabbing Gerard around his shoulders. “The most talkative man in existence can think of nothing to say.”

“Shut up!” Gerard whines, smacking them both upside the head.

“What did I miss?” Brian asks, joining them.

Mikey laughs. “Jet Star was ju-”

“Well, well, well, is that Party Poison?”

Mikey freezes as a voice interrupts, so close it sounds like the person is standing directly between him and Gerard. Both brothers twist in the direction of the voice only to catch just a flick of movement out of their peripheral vision.

“Definitely looks like it.” Another voice says from the entrance of the booth. Everyone turns to see a man in a royal blue suit jacket, bright red fingerless gloves, and a silver and royal blue mask. There’s even a royal blue fedora with a thin strip of silver wrapped around it perched on his head.

And he’s short. Not as short as Frank, but pretty close. This guy is also tiny. Mikey himself has always been described as thin, but this guy looks like a stiff desert breeze could carry him away, though he stands firmly as if he’s daring the wind to try.

Another man steps up beside him. “Think they can help?” Mikey recognizes the voice as the person who spoke behind him. Oddly high-pitched and nasally, like Ray’s. He stands just an inch or so taller than his friend, but they are completely different. Unlike his friend, this guy wears a loose sleeveless shirt and shorts. He’s wearing a plain green mask that goes well with his massive amount of reddish-brown curls and every inch of him looks like solid muscle coated in tattoos from his neck downward. The tattoo of a serpent’s body arches over his Adam’s apple and Mikey winces at the thought of how much that must have hurt.

“Who are you?” Gerard demands.

“Oh, of course,” the blue suit says, settling into a free seat with an easy smile. “I’m Blue Phoenix and this is Young Volcano.”

Blue Phoenix makes a motion inviting his friend to sit down. Young Volcano doesn’t move and the two stare at each other, holding a silent conversation with facial expressions. Finally Blue Phoenix waves dismissively and turns back to the group as Young Volcano stands just behind him.

“And, of course, you are,” he points to each one in turn, “Kobra Kid, Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, and… oh you must be Jet Star.” He pauses. “And, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Pyret.”

“Ah, Riot Pyret, the doctor,” His smile falters for a moment and then comes back again. “Volcano and I were wondering if you might be able to help us out.”

Mikey looks to Gerard, who’s clearly taken aback.

“We sort of have our own problem right now,” Gerard hedges.

“The prisoner that was just taken?” Volcano asks.

“How do you know about her?” Ray gasps.

“Well, we weren’t sure,” Volcano shrugs, “but now we are.”

“We make it our business to keep an eye on that sort of information,” Phoenix explains. “You see, we can really help each other out.”

“How so?” Gerard asks.

“Our friends are prisoners, too. We can’t infiltrate the Better Living building by ourselves, but with a few extra people…” He lets the sentence fade holding out his hands, clearly asking for help.

“Why should we trust you?” Brian asks.

Young Volcano leans over Phoenix’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “We have the building schematics for the BLI headquarters.”

“How do you know they’ve been taken there?” Frank pipes up.

Suddenly there’s a crash at the door and alarms start blaring painfully loud. A squadron of cops swarms into the bar, rayguns out and shooting at everyone in sight.

“Because we’re high-class criminals, Ghoul!” Volcano shouts, pulling out his raygun and moving between Phoenix and the melee. “They don’t take our kind anywhere else!”

“The North Tunnel. Ten PM.” Phoenix says quickly as Volcano pulls him up and pushes him towards an exit. As he does a Drac appears out of nowhere and catches Volcano by his hair.

Most of Mikey’s group is already up and over the back of the booth seats when he sees the other man get grabbed. He reaches for his gun, but before it’s even out of its holster Volcano yanks a large knife out of a sheath on his belt and slices upward, cutting clean through his own hair.

Without a second glance at the confused Drac holding a wad of hair Volcano is gone and Gerard is dragging Mikey off.

They get out of the bar without firing a single shot.

*

Later that night they are camped out in a ditch outside of the north tunnel entrance to the City jumping at every little sound they hear. They sit in a circle facing outwards, watching and listening for everything.

Despite their careful watch the two Runners manage to sneak up on them anyhow.

“Evening,” Young Volcano says in greeting, appearing without warning at the top of the ditch. His hair has been buzzed to his scalp, except for the top of his head which still holds a shock of hair. His mask is gone and in its place is a pair of dark sunglasses. It’s a surprise he can see in the fading twilight.

Blue Phoenix materializes in the ditch behind them as they are busy staring at Volcano with a more polite greeting. The light illuminates his smile and the bits of silver in his outfit, but leaves him invisible otherwise.

“Our apologies,” Phoenix says, “but we won’t be able to make a move tonight. Security is too high after the raid.”

“How long do we have to wait?” Ray demands.

“Only until tomorrow,” Phoenix explains, calmly. “They don’t concern themselves too much with something as little as a bar raid. You’re welcome to stay with us, until then.”

The group is reluctant, but without any other options, they agree.

*

“What is this place?” Frank gasps, petting the dust-coated soundboard lovingly, sending fine particles of sand into the air.

“An old recording studio,” Phoenix explains, taking his fedora off and frisbeeing it onto a nearby table. He rolls his shoulders and runs his hands through his strawberry-blond hair, making it stick up at odd angles.

“Our old recording studio, actually,” Volcano says, removing his sunglasses. “Mine and, um, my friend’s.”

“An- er, Volcano.” Phoenix calls, looking at his comrade with concern. “You-”

“Don’t.” Volcano snaps quickly. He reaches up to his head as if to push back his hair and then seems to remember that most of his hair is gone. He lets his hand drop uselessly. Phoenix is still looking at his friend in concern, the emotion more evident as he removes his mask.

“You don’t have any extra food, do you? We haven’t eaten all day,” Gerard asks quickly, hoping to dispel the tension that is beginning to build in the room.

“Oh, yes!” Phoenix says, grasping at the distraction as he invites them all into the “kitchen,” which is a meeting room with two hotplates and a fridge.

“You guys have electricity?” Mikey asks with shock. “I didn’t see a generator.”

Phoenix beams, flipping a light switch that illuminates the room with a dull glow. “One of the perks of living dangerously close to the city: access to the power grid.”

Their wide eyes and slack jaws make Phoenix throw back his head in laughter.

“Why don’t we make you guys a proper cooked dinner? What do you say, Volcano?”

Volcano’s lips turn up in a smirk, and his eyes twinkle with mirth. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

*

The two Runners are surprisingly good cooks and they lay out what is practically a feast for Gerard’s group, all of it vegetarian. Frank and Brian take full advantage of the offer of second helpings, greedily snapping up whatever servings are left behind. Mikey takes some second helpings as well, after Gerard talks him into it.

“You can have some more, too.”

Gerard looks up to see Volcano watching him, motioning to the mostly empty dishes.

“I’m fine,” he insists, pushing the last potato closer to his brother.

Volcano shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

*

It’s been hours and Gerard is still awake, lying on the floor surrounded by the snores of his companions. He sighs in aggravation. Giving up on getting a proper sleep he gets up, gently removing Frank who had started using Gerard’s chest as a pillow sometime in the first hour.

Gerard slips quietly out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

When he turns around he sees Young Volcano.

The runner is slumped in a rolling chair at the soundboard, lazily brushing dust off the knobs and faders. He looks up quickly when Gerard enters, but makes no other movement.

“Trouble sleeping?” Volcano asks. It’s little more than an exhale but the building is so silent that Gerard can hear him clearly.

“Yes. You?”

Volcano takes a long time to blink, as if slowly waking up from a dream, before finally nodding. He stretches out a leg and drags another rolling chair closer for Gerard to take. Gerard settles in it gingerly, but still sets a cloud of dust blooming from the cushions.

“Sorry,” Volcano says as Gerard sneezes.

“Don’t clean much, do you?”

Volcano shrugs. “I’ve sort of avoided this room ever since this place stopped being a studio and started being a hideout.”

“You don’t make music anymore?”

“It’s been hard.”

“But you’re here tonight?”

“I’m feeling sentimental.”

“For your friend?”

Volcano raises an eyebrow, “Well, aren’t you inquisitive?”

“It’s a blessing and a curse.”

Volcano smirks and huffs out a laugh. “Alright, we can play 20 Questions. Why are you and your brother out in the Zones?”

Gerard blinks. “Wha- how did you-”

“You’d be shocked at what you see when you take the time to look. It’s obvious you take care of Kobra and once you notice that it’s almost impossible to not see the family resemblance. I know you’re the Fabulous Killjoys, the trio who gives BLI the finger whenever you can, but why? What made you leave the City? Assuming you did leave the City and weren’t just blown in on some sort of dust storm for the purpose of enacting rebellion, or some shit.”

Gerard chuckles at the mental image of him, Mikey, and Frank walking out of a dust storm like some sort of action heroes at the climax of some epic film. “No, we’re normal humans, just like you and Phoenix and anyone else who ran away. The City was killing us. It poisoned us with drugs and suffocated us with government control.”

“And now you’re out here where you can get poisoned by acid rain and suffocated with dust storms.”

“Better to die on your own terms. I’d rather fight through a dust storm as Party Poison then go home to an Industry-sanctioned apartment as Draculoid Number 4,562.”

“Well put.” Volcano concedes.

“What about you? Why did you leave?”

“Because all my friends did.”

“That’s it?”

“My friends are my family. Just like you and Kobra and your boyfriend.”

“Yeah I guess you’re- My boyfriend?”

“Yeah, Fun Ghoul.”

“Fun Ghoul’s not my boyfriend.”

Volcano raises his eyebrows. “Sure.”

Gerard huffs in irritation. “Alright, smartass, what about you and Phoenix? You’re super protective of him.”

“He’s all I have left. Besides if I let something happen to him Gray would drag me to Hell himself.”

“Gray?”

“Lake Effect Gray, this is his and my studio. Star Shooter and he are our friends who were captured.”

Gerard nods thoughtfully and they lapse into a momentary silence broken only by the snores from the other room.

“Wait,” Gerard says suddenly. “‘All you have left’?”

Volcano shrugs, sliding lower in his chair.

“You don’t think your friends are alive, do you?”

The Runner sighs deeply. “I don’t want to be a downer, but it’s been weeks since Better Living caught them.”

“But you’re going into the City anyway.”

“Phoenix still believes we can save them.”

“Have you tried to tell him?”

“You don’t know him.”

“And you’ll follow him in?”

“He’s all I have left.”

Gerard squeezes Volcano’s shoulder sympathetically. Volcano pats his hand in return.

“Actually…” he says, quietly.

“Hm?” Gerard prompts.

“There are a couple of others, but I. I dunno. It’s complicated.”

“It always is, isn’t it?” Gerard says with a yawn.

“Oh God, now-” Volcano yawns, too. “You. Damn it.”

“Maybe we should get some sleep,” Gerard suggests.

Volcano nods. “Might as well try.”

He bids Gerard goodnight and gets up, retreating to another door.

“I hope we find your friends.” Gerard calls as an afterthought.

Volcano shoots him a small smile. “I hope we find your friend, too.”

*

When Gerard re-enters their sleeping area someone is awake and sitting upright.

“Party?” The voice calls, quietly.

“Ghoul?”

“Oh thank god,” Frank says, getting up and stumbling over to him. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Just in the other room,” Gerard explains.

“Don’t just leave like that!” Frank scolds, wrapping him in a hug.

Someone shuffles and turns over in their sleep.

Gerard can tell Frank has more to say so he pulls him back into the studio, hoping to avoid waking anyone else.

“I was just in here, Frank, I didn’t leave. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Frank snuggles closer to Gerard in his overly affectionate way that always gets worse when he’s tired. “Promise?”

“Uh, yeah, I promise.” Gerard says, pulling Frank into a tighter hug. Frank buries his face into Gerard’s neck.

“We’re probably going to die tomorrow,” Frank says.

“What?” Gerard gasps, pulling Frank away so he can look him in the face. “What do you mean?”

“Going into the City,” Frank explains, looking Gerard directly in the eye. “It’s a suicide mission. Haven’t you realized that?”

Well, no, if Gerard is honest he hadn’t really given it much thought. Frank is right, though. Infiltrating the City does mean almost certain death.

“I’m ready to die.” Frank continues.

“What? No, Frank.”

“No.” Frank says, pushing off Gerard’s hug. “I’ve come to terms with it and if that’s what happens tomorrow, if I die, it’ll be okay. I really have nothing to lose.”

“Frank…”

“I just have one regret.”

“What?”

“This.”

Frank leans forward and kisses Gerard firmly on the lips. Gerard is too shocked to move.

Frank pulls away quickly. “I’m sorry. I had to. Just once.”

Frank turns to return back to his bed, but he doesn’t get more than a step before Gerard is grabbing him by the shoulders, spinning him around, and kissing him.

“Oh god…Frankie…” Gerard says between desperate kisses. “I’ve been… so fucking blind…”

“Yeah…” Frank says, twining his fingers in Gerard’s hair and pulling him closer, kissing back wet and rough. “You’re… good at that.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

A soft chuckle is the only warning Gerard gives Frank before he picks him up and presses him onto the nearby table, knocking Phoenix’s forgotten fedora to the ground. Gerard pins him with his own weight kissing his way down Frank’s neck.

“Gerard…”

Gerard slides his hands under Frank’s shirt, pushing it up to expose Frank’s chest and then yanking it completely off.

“Gerar-”

Gerard silences him with another kiss, wet and desperate. He slides one knee in between Frank’s legs and hoists himself up onto the table as well, the wooden legs groaning in protest. Frank slides his hands up Gerard’s chest and Gerard reaches for the hem of his own shirt.

Suddenly, Frank shoves him and Gerard falls off the table, stumbling to keep on his feet.

“Wha-”

“Do you mean it?” Frank demands, staring him down from his perch on the table.

“What are you talking about?” Gerard goes to him, reaching out to grab Frank’s shoulders, but Frank bats his hands away.

“I. Have been. In love with you. For as long as I’ve known you,” Frank says. “And now you. All of a sudden you just.” Frank takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I need to know you feel the same.”

“Isn’t this enough?” The words are out of his mouth before Gerard even processes them and he instantly regrets it.

Frank looks like a kicked puppy. His eyes are threatening to tear up and he’s looking at Gerard as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

In one swift movement Frank snatches up his shirt and flees back to the other room.

When Gerard finally gains the nerve to go back in Frank is curled up between Mikey and Ray.

*

As the ominous skyline of Battery City looms closer Mikey can’t stop shaking. He stuffs his hands between his knees, but that only makes his knees start shaking as well. Brian sits next to him in the backseat wearing Killjoy gear Mikey’s never seen on him before, a solid-color mask that looks either black or purple depending upon the light and a raygun with black and purple stripes spiraling around the barrel. The eyeholes of the mask arch up on the outer edge and give him a steely, villainous look.

“You okay?” Brian asks, nudging Mikey’s shoulder with his.

Mikey nods.

“Liar,” Brian says. He slides his hand onto Mikey’s thigh, massaging over the warn material gently. Mikey reaches out and threads his fingers into Brian’s. Brian squeezes his fingers.

Mikey sighs. “I haven’t been back to the City since I left. I haven’t even been any closer than Zone 3 until yesterday.”

“Scared?” Brian asks, not mockingly, simply matter-of-fact.

Mikey nods.

“Just try to focus,” Ray says, watching him through the rearview mirror from the front seat, his mask – blue with red around the eyeholes – tipped up onto his head. “Use your adrenaline to keep your mind sharp and you’ll be okay.”

Mikey nods to him and takes a deep, calming breath. Next to Ray, Gerard is clutching the wheel with white knuckles, his mouth pinched in a fine line.

He’s scared too, Mikey can tell. And it probably doesn’t help that Frank’s not here, he’s usually good at reading the brothers. That morning Brian had recommended one of them ride in the other Zone Runners’ van to keep an eye on them. Mikey was shocked when Frank volunteered immediately, and even more taken aback when Gerard didn’t object.

Something’s wrong, Mikey can tell, but he has no idea what to do about it as they drive towards the looming City skyline.

*

As the dirt road of Route Guano turns into the smooth pavement of the East Tunnel they all pull their masks on to obscure their faces. Inside the tunnel is a toll booth with two cops lounging inside of it. The flimsy toll gate is down to prevent anyone from entering the City. The Trans Am doesn’t slow as they enter the tunnel.

“Uh, Gerard?” Mikey calls, watching the distance between them and the toll gate shrink at an alarming rate.

Gerard doesn’t respond.

“There’s a gate up ahead.” Mikey warns. Next to him, Brian’s tensing up and in the passenger seat Ray is glancing nervously between Gerard and the ticket booth. The cops have noticed them by this point and are out of the booth, frantically waving at them, motioning for them to stop.

Gerard still says nothing.

“They’re not going to open the gate for us.” Mikey says, as both cops race back to their booth, retrieving the guns they had forgotten in their panic. “We’re going to hit it!”

“That’s the idea.” Gerard says with deadly calm.

“Oh shit.”

*

The gate splinters into dozens of pieces, shards bouncing across their windshield and flying over their hood. Mikey can hear a few of them smack the van following in their wake. Neither vehicle loses speed as they charge through the empty streets. Gerard lets the Trans Am slow a little to allow the van to overtake them and lead them to the largest building in the City, the Better Living Industries headquarters.

They screech to a stop in a back alley a block before the building, hiding their vehicles deep in the shadows. Gerard, Ray, and Blue Phoenix had been all for pulling right up to the door, guns blazing, but while planning during the past day the others had talked them out of it. Getting themselves killed in the lobby wouldn’t help anyone.

Young Volcano and Blue Phoenix lead the way to a rusty industrial door in the loading dock. Gerard raises his eyebrows in disbelief as the door opened with a soft groaning creak. Mikey understands, it’s the first time they’ve ever seen any aspect of The City in disrepair. Rusty doors and creaking hinges just don’t happen.

They follow the duo to the service elevator.

“Are you sure this is the best idea?” Frank asks, eyeing the steel doors. “Won’t this make it obvious we’re coming?”

Young Volcano huffs out a quiet laugh. “You think they haven’t figured out we’re here by now?”

“The cells are on Floor 20,” Blue Phoenix explains. ”We can take the elevator and get there quickly, or we can climb twenty flights of stairs.”

Frank says nothing and they all pile in the elevator.

*

 

Brian grabs Mikey’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly as the group watches the numbers count up on the LED screen. Mikey shoots him a small smile and rubs the back of his hand with his thumb. Then he reaches forward and grabs his brother’s hand, squeezing it firmly. Gerard looks over his shoulder at Mikey and gives him a twitch of a smile that hardly reaches his eyes, before quickly looking away.

Out of the corner of his eye Mikey sees Frank looking at them and Mikey’s pretty certain he caught the exchange, but he doesn’t say anything.

Ahead of them Ray, Blue Phoenix, and Young Volcano stand firmly with their weapons drawn, prepared to fight.

*

The cells aren’t made of steel bars like Mikey had expected. Instead they consist of thick panes of glass, even the floor is made up of the clear, sturdy material.  The only metal in the room is the steel grid lining the floor and the steel hinges and locks on the cell doors. Everything in the room is sickeningly clean and gleams with reflected light.

The cells’ inhabitants are much less clean.

There are only three cells in use and they are far from each other. All the prisoners are caked in sweat and grime and slumped uselessly in their cells. The closest cell holds someone Mikey recognizes easily.

“Grace!” Ray gasps, dropping to his knees in front of the cell door, pressing his face to the glass. The small figure shifts and Grace lifts her frizzy head, staring blearily at her father.

“Gracie!” Ray calls again.

Grace blinks and a little light seems to return to her eyes. “Daddy?”

Ray is almost in tears. “Yes, Grace, it’s me. I’m going to get you out of there, okay?”

Grace nods. “Okay.”

“Stand back.” Volcano instructs and Ray pries himself off the glass. Volcano pulls on an exterminator glove and presses it to the reader pad on the lock. The door clicks open.

Ray races in and scoops his daughter up, wrapping her in a tight hug while she sluggishly loops her arms around his neck.

Volcano hurries over to another cell. He releases the door lock and drags the prisoner off the floor. The prisoner stands taller than Volcano with a mop of brown curls obscuring his face. When he stumbles Volcano staggers under the weight, but holds steady. “You’re okay, Shooter, I got you.” He tugs the black jean vest back up from where it has started slipping off the Runner’s shoulder.

“This is too easy,” Brian whispers to Mikey as another cells door clicks open, followed by Phoenix softly calling Lake Effect Gray’s name. Phoenix pulls his friend up and out of the cell. Gray wraps his arms around Phoenix’s shoulder, but unlike Shooter he seems to be looking for comfort as opposed to support. He presses his forehead to Phoenix’s and mumbles something unintelligible. Phoenix whispers something back and runs a hand along Gray’s tattooed bicep.

Mikey nods. Brian is right, this is too easy. Far too easy.

Gerard must be thinking along the same lines because he quickly orders Brian, Mikey, and Frank to start looking for other ways out. Stairwells or elevators.

They separate and Mikey and Gerard scope out half the hallway while Brian and Frank take the other.

“Pyret!” Young Volcano calls and Brian runs over to him. Star Shooter is half standing, draped from Volcano’s shoulder with an unfocused look in his eyes. Brian helps Volcano set him down so he can get a better look at him.

Just as Mikey reaches the stairwell on the far side of the hall he hears the elevator chime.

The group freezes as the elevator door slides open and out steps an impeccably dressed woman. Her hair is straight and black and stops just above her shoulder, her eyes are narrow and severe and she holds herself perfectly erect with her hands clasped behind her back.

“Who are you?” The words are out of Mikey’s mouth before he can stop them. The woman spins easily on her heels to face Mikey. Her smile is positively predatory.

“I am the CEO of the Better Living Industries. And you and your friends are trespassing.” She pauses to regard the prisoners who are out of their cells, “And stealing.”

With her last word a tall, pale man steps out from the elevator behind her.

“Korse,” Gerard hisses.

 

The man turns toward Gerard and smiles evilly. “Hello, Party Poison.”

Gerard actually growls as he steps forward, putting himself between the exterminator and Mikey while pulling out his raygun.

Dracs start streaming out of the elevator behind Korse, firing wildly at the Killjoys, the CEO nowhere to be seen amongst the mass of white and black. Mikey crouches low and starts firing back and the entire room erupts in a chaos of raygun blasts and screams. Mikey can hear Grace’s high-pitched squeal coming from somewhere on the other side of the wall of black and white goons. He looks around frantically, hoping to see her. To see if she’s alright. They did not come all this way just to lose her again.

 

Suddenly his hand explodes in pain and he yelps, pulling it close to his chest. It’s his gun hand, naturally, and the same one that got damaged during their first week in the Zones. This time his hand has a deep graze, a red-black cauterized stripe running straight down the length of his hand and wrist. As quick as he can he switches gun hands and fires at the nearest approaching Drac. The Drac drops with a limp flail.

A shock of pain from a damaged nerve shoots through Mikey and his body seizes momentarily, causing him to drop his gun and double over in pain.

“Kobra?”

Mikey looks up to see Ray standing over him, using himself as a shield between Mikey and the approaching Dracs.

“Party?” Mikey asks in response.

Ray nods his head to the side and Mikey looks to their right. Gerard is in a standoff with Korse. They are facing each other, unmoving, while the battle rages around them. Both stand firmly planted, their gun hands hover over their holstered guns. They look like an old wild west film. Not a single Drac is attacking Gerard; they seem to understand that this fight is between Gerard and Korse only.

Mikey hears a pained scream from a voice he recognizes, looking further down the hall he sees Brian crumple to the ground, a tear in his pant leg showing a cauterized raygun wound. A Drac bears down on him and Mikey wants to scream, or get up and go help him, but he’s frozen to the spot, watching the scene play out in slow motion. The Drac raises his gun-

And jolts back as a shot hits him square in the throat. The Drac ragdolls to the ground as Lake Effect Gray, of all people, charges forward with a smoking white raygun in hand. Blue Phoenix follows him and together they haul Brian up and pull him away.

Satisfied that Brian is safe for now Mikey focuses his energy on getting up without using his right hand. It takes a lot of effort and he is thankful Ray is protecting him.

There are more Dracs moving in. More than they can handle, Mikey realizes.

“We have to go!” He yells to Ray.

Ray nods in agreement, still focused on the fight.

Mikey hoists his gun as best he can and steps out from Ray’s protection, plowing his way towards his brother, shooting at any white suit that gets too close.

“Party!” He calls, when he’s a few feet from his brother.

Gerard doesn’t react.

“Party!” Mikey practically shrieks, “We have to go!”

Gerard turns to him, just a bit, a mere infinitesimal flick of his head.

It’s all Korse needs.

Korse pulls his gun and Gerard is moving. With a speed that leaves Mikey speechless Gerard drops to the ground, yanking his gun out of its holster as he goes. Korse fires and Gerard’s head jerks back in an attempt to escape the shot. He fires his own shot and hits Korse in the leg. Korse drops to his knee and Gerard rolls away from him. As he turns Mikey sees a red-black streak across his brother’s forehead where Gerard hadn’t moved fast enough to escape Korse’s shot.

“Retreat!” Gerard yells, rolling to his feet and charging for the stairwell, pushing Mikey in front of him. Mikey goes without protest, charging full force towards the door and practically flying down the first flight of steps. On the landing he pauses to see if anyone has followed him. Gerard is as the top of the stairs, holding the door for the others. Brian is practically launched through the door with Gray, Phoenix and the other Killjoy, Star Shooter, following close behind. Ray charges through next. Gerard slams the door behind him.

“I lost Grace,” Ray gasps, meeting Mikey in the landing.

“Go!” Gerard snaps.

They go.

They group charges down the flights of stairs as fast as their exhausted legs will carry them. They run until they can’t hear the Dracs above them before they stop to catch their breath.

“Volcano has her.”

Mikey looks over at Star Shooter in confusion, but the Killjoy has his attention focused on Ray.

“Volcano has her,” he says again. “I saw them go for the other stairs.”

Ray sighs in relief. “I hope they made it out.”

“They did,” Star Shooter says, patting Ray on the shoulder.

“Where’s Fra- Fun Ghoul?”

Gerard is on the stairs above them, searching the group frantically.

Mikey whirls around and starts searching the faces as well. Ray, Shooter, Brian, Gray, Phoenix, Gerard. No Frank.

“We have to go back.” Gerard says.

“We can’t go back,” Brian says.

“But, but what if he…”

“I think he got out with Volcano.” Gray says.

“You think so?” Mikey asks, counting the group once more.

“He wasn’t there.” Gray insists. “I’m sure I didn’t see him on our side of the melee, alive or otherwise.”

Gerard hesitates, but the sound of a dozen feet echoing on the stairs above them make up his mind.

“…Okay.”

They continue their descent. Brian trips a couple of times until Mikey grabs his arm to support him.

“You okay?”

Brian nods, sweat pouring down his face. “Cauterized wounds… won’t bleed to death… at least.”

“Yeah, just get shot to death.”

Brian hums in agreement.

*

Ray hits the fourth floor landing solidly and swings towards the half opened door on it. The rest of them follow him through, putting the steel door between them and any approaching Dracs.

The floor is a wide open room with long steel tables. Every surface is covered with vials, beakers, Bunsen burners, and a host of other scientific tools. In the middle of the room there is a chair that looks oddly like a dentist’s chair with thick straps wrapped across it. It is surrounded by rolling tables covered in steel doctor’s instruments. The room makes Mikey shiver.

“What is this place?” Gerard whispers.

Mikey shrugs and shakes his head uselessly. Whatever this place is Mikey isn’t sure he wants to know.

“No.” Gray whines.

“Gray?” Phoenix asks.

“No. No, no, no. No!” Gray’s voice starts in a whisper and rises to a panicked scream as he backs towards the door. Phoenix goes after him, grabbing at his flailing arms and speaking soothingly to calm him.

“Gray, Gray I’m here. They’re not going to- I’m not going to let them hurt you. Gray? Gray!”

“We can’t stay here,” Shooter gasps, his voice pitched higher. “Not here. Anywhere but here.”

Brian lets go of Mikey limps over to Shooter, grabbing his shoulder firmly. “We’ll get out of here as soon as we can, just stay calm, okay?”

Shooter takes a deep breath and nods.

“What is this place?” Brian repeats Gerard’s question to Shooter.

“Experimentation Floor A.”

Next to him Gray whines pitifully and Phoenix drags him into a tight embrace.

Mikey turns to ask Gerard what they should do now – what’s their plan of attack, or escape – when a door on the far end of the room flies open and Frank stumbles through it followed by Volcano pulling Grace by the hand.

“Daddy!” Grace gasps.

“Gracie!” Ray yells, making a bee line for his daughter. He doesn’t get more than two steps before all hell breaks loose.

A side door bursts open and a dozen Dracs stream in, creating a wall of enemies between the two groups of Killjoys. Before any of them can get their guns out to fight the door behind Volcano slams open and a handful of Dracs squeeze their way in, blocking Volcano, Frank, and Grace from both front and back. The Dracs seem to realize this as they close in on the three immediately.

Ray goes completely still. Frozen in place as if he cannot believe what he is seeing. Mikey can’t either, really. They were so close to getting out.

So close.

“Over here, you monochrome bastards!” Gerard snarls, stepping forward, gun drawn. He starts firing at the Dracs closest to him, taking them down with terrifying precision.

“Yeah!” Shooter yells, stepping up with Gerard. “Come for us, you fuckers!”

Mikey doesn’t need anyone to explain what they’re doing, pull the attention away from the others, and give the three a chance to escape. He charges toward another group of Dracs firing erratically. Footsteps follow him and he dares a glance back to see that Phoenix is following him.

*

Contrary to the others’ actions Frank and Volcano haven’t drawn their weapons. The Dracs closing in on them have, but their rayguns remain firmly pointed at the ground.

“Aren’t they going to shoot?” Frank asks Volcano.

Volcano grunts negatively, not taking his eyes off the Dracs as he tugs Grace closer. “Uh-uh. They don’t want to kill us.”

“What do they want?” Frank asks, watching the Dracs just as closely as Volcano.

“Test subjects.”

Grace whines and wraps her arms tightly around Volcano’s waist.

“How are we going to…” Frank starts, but fades out as he realizes Volcano isn’t paying attention. Instead he’s staring across the room at someone else.

*

Mikey pauses mid-fire when he spots Volcano.

The other Killjoy is standing still, arm wrapped firmly around Grace, and staring at them.

No. Staring at Ray.

He says something Mikey can’t hear and when Mikey glances back he sees that Ray is staring right back at Volcano. He nods, almost imperceptibly.

*

“Time to go,” Volcano whispers, scooping Grace up.

“Go?” Franks asks. “Go where? How?”

Volcano smiles at Frank, his grin not reaching his eyes. “Take a leap of faith.”

*

“Don’t! No! You can’t!”

Gray’s hoarse yell startles everyone and even Gerard takes a second to pay attention to what Gray is screaming at.

It’s Volcano. He picks up Grace and takes off at a dead run.

“You can’t!” Gray yells. “You said you wouldn’t! Stop!”

But if Volcano can hear Gray, he ignores him.

The Killjoy charges as fast as he can and launches himself at one of the large widows, crashing into it shoulder-first. He wraps himself in a protective ball around Grace as he flies through the broken window and drops out of sight.

Mikey barely has time to register what he’s seen before Gerard’s shouting takes over where Gray’s dropped off.

“Don’t!” Gerard snaps at Frank, sounding more commanding than terrified. “Don’t you dare!”

Frank takes off running just as Volcano had, full out towards the shattered window, Dracs hot on his heels.

“Don’t you fucking do it!” Gerard yells, his voice pitched up another octave.

Frank jumps, throwing himself out the window and twisting so he falls feet-first out of sight.

“No!” Gerard yells, starting forward.

Or he would have, but Ray grabs him around the waist and drags him back.

“We have to go!” Ray yells and everyone does.

*

Gray leads the way down the flights of stairs. Mikey and Brian following in his wake. Mikey has to keep catching Brain as he trips on his injured leg. Ray is pulling Gerard behind them as Shooter and Phoenix take up the rear.

“I know where to find them,” Gray insists. “We have a meeting place.”

“Did you plan this?” Gerard snaps in disbelief.

“We’ve talked about it, him and I,” Gray admits.

“You never told me,” Phoenix calls from the back of the group.

Gray pauses on the next landing. “Did you see that? It was fucking insane. Absolute suicide. We were never serious about that idea.”

“Apparently one of you was,” Brian mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Mikey to hear.

*

The van stops in front of a dark alleyway that looks suspiciously like the last three they passed. This time however, Gray hops out, leaving the van running. Gerard follows his lead, telling Ray, Mikey, and Brian to stay put.

None of them listen to him. Naturally.

“Stay the fuck away!” a voice hisses from in the alley shadows.

“Ghoul?” Gerard calls.

“Party?” the voice whispers back. There’s a shuffling sound and Frank stumbles into the light, half-walking half-crawling. Gerard drops to his knees and Frank crawls into his arms, dropping his gun and slumping tiredly on Gerard. Gerard wraps him in a tight embrace rubbing Frank’s back and finally allowing himself to breathe. Frank’s alive. He survived and Gerard isn’t planning on letting him go any time soon.

“Where’re the others?” Gray asks and Frank gestures back into the alley.

Gray and Ray rush into the alley with Phoenix bringing a flashlight after them.

Brian lowers himself gently next to Frank. “Are you hurt?”

Frank nods. “My leg. I can’t.”

“Let me see.” Brian reaches for Frank’s right leg, which is sprawled uselessly behind him. As soon as he tries to pull up the pant leg Frank lets out a high-pitched squeal of pain, digging his fingernails into Gerard’s shoulders.

“You’re hurting him!” Gerard says.

Brian lets go quickly. “I can’t do anything for him here. Can you get him into the van?”

Gerard nods. Mikey hurries over and between the two of them they manage to get Frank off the ground and into the back of the van with only about a dozen new curse words from Frank as every movement jostles his broken leg. The brothers have to convince him to let them go once he’s in because he latched onto their arms and his fingernails had become firmly embedded in their shoulders during the move.

“Check on the others?” Gerard asks. “We have maybe five minutes max here.”

Mikey agrees.

*

Volcano is leaned up against a wall, babbling. “Hey…” he gasps out, between labored breaths, “I’m… I’m sorry… That… Fucking stupid…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Gray soothes, petting Volcano’s hair gently. “You did what you had to. You’re going to be okay.”

“The girl’s… Okay…”

“She’s fine,” Ray says, just as soothingly, holding Grace in a warm embrace. “Thank you.”

Volcano nods lightly, struggling to breathe. His lungs sound like they are spasming and every breath looks like agony.

“Hang in there, man,” Gray says. “You’ll be okay.”

Brian pushes past Phoenix and approaches Volcano.

“Hey, man, how you doing?” His words are light, but he watches Volcano closely as the Killjoy struggles to answer.

“Hurts…”

“What does?”

“Everything.”

“Can you be more specific?” Brain asks, motioning for Phoenix to hand over the flashlight.

“Back… Head… Chest…”

“How did you land?”

“Don’t… reme…” He gives up on the word and focuses on breathing.

“He landed on his back. Sort of on one side.” Grace answers

Brian glances back at the girl. “Hey, Gracie, how’re you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good. So he landed on his back, on which side?”

“Uh, that one,” She points to Volcano’s right side.

“Okay, and did he get up immediately?”

“Almost. It took him a bit because he was in pain. He tried to carry me, but couldn’t.”

“Okay,” Brian says absently, using the flashlight to check for pupil dilation. “Why don’t you and your father go and get the others, okay?”

*

“Pyret, we really have to go,” Gerard says, following Ray’s instruction to go back into the alley way.

“I understand,” Brian responds in a way that implies that his attention is clearly elsewhere, “but Volcano is injured.”

“Well we can just get him in the van and you can treat him back at the hideout,” Gray suggests, reaching for Volcano’s arm. “C’mon.”

Fast as a striking snake Brian’s hand shoots out and snatches Gray’s wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Do not touch him until I say so.” Brian says, clinically calm. “We are going to have to move very carefully so that we don’t injure him worse.”

“We don’t have time-”

“Then make time!” Brian snaps, practically spitting venom. “You want your friend to live you do exactly as I say. Do you understand, Pete?”

Gray gapes for a moment, wide-eyed. Brian accepts that as agreement and moves on.

“Where’s Jet Star?”

“Here!” Ray calls, holding up a thin plastic stretcher.

*

They get moving just as the first BLI car zooms around the bend. The van leads the way as they outrun the BLI vehicles. The race out of the city is winding and dangerously fast, but they make it out. One cop makes a lucky shot and takes out one of the van’s back windows, showering the Trans Am with glass.

They lose the pursuing vehicles in a valley of dunes in Zone 2 and take Route Guano deep into the Zones.

“Where are we going?” Phoenix asks. He and Gray and Star Shooter have been squashed into the backseat of the Trans Am to make room for the injured Killjoys in the van. “What about our studio?”

“Too close,” Gerard explains. “We’re going back to our place.”

*

Mikey has never been so relieved to see the diner.

It’s not much, a run down, boarded up, sun-bleached shell of what it once was but its home and Mikey is so glad to be home.

It’s a team effort to move Volcano into the diner without making any of his injuries worse. Volcano groans in pain at every shift of the stretcher and the act of moving him from the stretcher to the table is a delicate and lengthy procedure. Once he is settled Brian begins ordering people about, delegating necessary tasks. No one questions him.

“Party, get your med kit. Phoenix, lift his shirt. Oh and Ray and Star Shooter, get Frank out of the van.”

Mikey helps Phoenix lift up Volcano’s shirt, moving slowly and carefully so they don’t hurt him. Once they bundle the material up to his armpits Brian moves in gently prodding his patient’s exposed torso, feeling for injuries.

“Multiple broken ribs.” He says, moving along to Volcano’s arms.

“What about his back?” Phoenix asks.

“Bruised. He’s lucky.” Brian explains. “With the amount we’ve moved him; if it had been broken he’d be paralyzed.”

“Uh, Brian?” Gerard is standing in entryway to the back room holding open their med kit with a stricken expression on his face.

The moment Mikey realizes what’s happened his stomach drops.

“What?” Brian asks.

“The med kit,” Gerard starts. “It’s–”

“Mostly empty,” Mikey finishes, flinching from the shocked look Gerard sends him. “I emptied it, remember Brian? When Ray needed medicine.”

The entire room takes a sharp breath.

“Oh, fuck.” Brian breathes.

*

“No.”

“Gerard! C’mon!”

“No.

“Plea-”

“No. No. No. No. No!”

Mikey scowls and crosses his arms, mimicking Gerard’s posture as he stands planted in the doorway staring Mikey down. The staring contest stretches on with neither willing to budge. Distantly Mikey hears someone whisper “they fight like brother, or something” before being shushed.

“A med raid like this is a three man job. I have to go,” Mikey says.

“Brian and Phoenix can take Ray,” Gerard says, through gritted teeth.

“No, we can’t,” Brian interjects. “Ray is the second best with doctoring here. You saw him set Frank’s leg. He needs to stay here to watch the patients.”

Gerard flails his arms in frustration “Then take uh…” He throws out an arm toward Star Shooter.

“Joe?” Star Shooter offers.

“Joe!” Gerard says quickly, “Or-”

“Pete,” Lake Effect Gray supplies when Gerard indicates him.

“Pete! Send one of them.”

“No,” Brian insists. “Those two have been in a BLI facility being subject to god knows what. They need time to recover.”

Star Shooter, Joe, perks up. “But I feel fine-”

“Don’t get involved.” Pete says quickly and Joe snaps his mouth shut, hunching his shoulders.

“Fine!” Gerard says loud enough to silence the room. “I’ll go.”

“Gerard,” Mikey gasps. “I can do this.”

“And I can, too.” Gerard says, placing his hands confidently on his hips.

“Brian!” Mikey calls, looking for backup.

“He’s got a point,” Brian admits.

“What?”

“Gerard is just as good as you with raids, as I understand it,” Brian explains. “And he’s the best sharpshooter I have ever seen.”

Mikey turns back to Gerard who’s standing taller in the face of his victory.

“You still treat me like a child, sometimes,” Mikey hisses, storming off to the back room.

“You still are one, sometimes,” Gerard snaps back.

*

As the sun dips out of sight Gerard, Brian, and Blue Phoenix – “It’s, uh, Patrick, actually. Since we’re sharing first names and all” – take Route Guano to the border of Zone 5 and Zone 6. Their target: the Zone 6 Betterment Camp. Betterment camps are BLI run internment camps. Their purpose is to “collect and reeducate the lost citizens of Battery City.” They are not of high importance to the City, a fact that results in them being run down and operated by a skeleton crew of doctors, cooks, and security personnel.

“And the security locks on the doors to med storage break down a lot,” Brian explains. “We’d always leave them unlocked so we wouldn’t have to be fighting with them in an emergency. At least in Zone 3.”

In the backseat Patrick is gaping at Brian, but Gerard can’t bring himself to be too surprised. A doctor out in the Zones with his own practice couldn’t have escaped directly from the city, he would have had to come from somewhere within the Zones in order to have made it out on his own in one piece. Doctors are very important to the City, as well as to the Zones.

“So, this should be easy?” Gerard asks.

“One person to collect the supplies, one person to guard the person collecting, and a driver to get us the fuck out of there,” Brian says. “Easy as lyin’.”

*

A high-pitched yelp shocks Mikey out of his daze.

Mikey wheels around and hops down from his perch on the counter, where he had been acting as lookout for the group while they slept. In the corner near the kitchen the two rescued Killjoys had curled up together for the night. One of them is sitting upright, breathing hard.

Mikey makes his way carefully over to the corner. As he approaches the details of the dark corner become clearer and Mikey can see Pete’s dark eyes watching him as he approaches.

“You okay?” Mikey asks, crouching down so Pete can hear him whisper.

“I dunno.” Pete responds, breathing heavily. “It- It felt so real…”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Mikey soothes, crouching down to wrap an arm around Pete’s shaking shoulders.

He’s taken aback when Pete reaches out and grabs his shirt in two tight fists, dragging Mikey closer. Mikey loses his balance and falls forward, dropping to his knees. He throws out his free hand to the wall for support so he doesn’t land on Pete. The move brings him closer to Pete and the dark-haired man loosens one fist so he can wrap his arm around Mikey’s back.

Mikey remains frozen, unsure of what to do. After a moment, when Pete seems determined to remain in the same spot, Mikey settles back into a sitting position. Pete shifts closer, resting his head on Mikey’s shoulder.

Some time passes - Mikey cannot be sure if it’s minutes or hours only that his butt is beginning to hurt - before Pete speaks again.

“Thanks,” he says, loosening his death grip on Mikey, but not shifting away. “It helps.”

Mikey mumbles, “no problem,” hoping that Pete will let him move.

“It’s just that-” Pete takes a deep breath and sighs. Mikey sighs along with him and wraps his other arm around Pete’s torso, giving up on moving for the moment. “Patrick’s usually here for me. He helps me wake up from the nightmares. Dr. Schechter says they’re a symptom of insomnia.”

Mikey stiffens suddenly, shocked by the name that slipped so easily out of Pete’s mouth. “Dr. Schechter?”

“Oh! You know him as Riot Pyret.” Pete says, misinterpreting Mikey’s confusion.

“I know who he is,” Mikey says, his voice coming out harsher than he meant it to. “How do you know Brian?”

Pete sits up; shying away from Mikey’s stiffness and harsh tone, but Mikey’s not done. He remembers a detail, something he’d hardly noticed at the time. “He said you name. Back in the City. He called you ‘Pete.’”

“He… He was my doctor.” Pete stutters. “Fucking years ago. He put me on meds, fucking Better Livings crap, it messed with my head. That’s when I decided to get out.”

He pauses then adds, as an afterthought. “Never believed he woulda left the City.”

Mikey is stunned, trying to absorb the information Pete is giving him. “Brian was a BLI doctor? Working for them? Prescribing their happy pills?”

Pete nods energetically. “Still have no idea why he’d’ve left the City.” He repeats. “His life seemed pretty damned good there.”

Mikey shakes his head, leaning against the wall for support. He tries to equate this new information with the man he knows. The happy-pill dealing BLI doctor with the rebel doctor, running a miserable practice out of a shack in the desert, treating the injuries of the renegades and the wanted.

It can’t be true. Pete’s Dr. Schechter can’t be Mikey’s Brian.

Can he?

*

“This is my baby.” Gerard explains, dangling the keys in front of Patrick’s face. “She is my pride and joy. Frank and I found her in a scrap pile and brought her back to life and she has not broken down once since. She is a piece of art. If you get a single scratch on her beautiful fucking paint I will end you.”

Patrick nods quickly, eyes wide. Gerard sighs and with a look of pain drops the keys into Patrick’s open palm.

“Be ready to start the car as soon as you see us leave the facility.” Brian instructs as he pulls an empty duffle bag onto he back.

“Okay,” Patrick says. He hops into the driver’s seat and begins adjusting it for himself.

“What about me?” Gerard asks, following Brian as he picks his way gently through the dry brush they hid the car in.

“Lead the way and follow my directions,” Brian says. “There will be two locked doors that we have to get through. Each uses a numerical passcode. There are five different codes possible for each door and they are changed in a rotation. It’ll take me five or fewer tries to get through each door.”

“Will they set off an alarm if you get them wrong?”

Brian shakes his head. “It’ll probably register in the system’s computer, but no one here would know how to access that information much less monitor it regularly. The back entrance we’re using leads almost directly to the storage rooms where the supplies are kept. Again, getting in there should be easy. Now, get your mask on.”

“You’ve done this before.” Gerard realizes as he tugs his Party Poison mask over his eyes. “Not just as a doctor in a Camp, but as a Killjoy raiding one of these.”

Brian looks back at him through the eyeholes of his own mask. An exaggerated pout pulls at the corners of his mouth and he shrugs. “Maybe.”

Gerard gives Brian a genuine smile, impressed by this rebel doctor. “I can see why Mikey likes you.” Before Brian has the chance to respond, Gerard brings the focus back to the task. “Shall we?”

Brian returns his smile. “Lead the way, Sharpshooter.”

*

The door lock pings green on the third try. Gerard pushes it open slowly, the sand filled hinges grinding pitifully. He opens the door just far enough for them to squeeze through. Brian slips in after Gerard and shuts the door behind him.

“Wait. You-”

“Getting out will be easy,” Brian explains. “But an open outer door is suspicious.”

Gerard sighs heavily but moves on, leading the way down the corridor. They get to med storage without running into anyone. Gerard stands guard while Brian grabs the door handle.

It’s locked.

He yanks at the handle again. Still locked.

“Riot?” Gerard asks voice tense.

Brian grinds his teeth and drops to a knee in front of the electronic door lock. It’s brand new, a gleaming block of white with a shiny metallic keypad.

“Can you get in?”

“I think so,” Brian says, beginning to tap away at the keys. “The Dracs always let the doctors set the codes so we’d remember them better.”

He enters four numbers. The lock beeps red.

He enters four more. Red again.

“Riot…”

“Let me just-” he types four more numbers. The lock pings green and the door pops open. “Aha.”

“Did you remember it?” Gerard asks, trailing Brian into the room.

“Nope, just guessed.”

“What was it?”

“Eleven, seventeen. The atomic numbers for Sodium and Chlorine.”

Brian looks back at Gerard, as if he expects Gerard to understand. Gerard shrugs.

“Sodium Chloride, it’s, um, table salt. Basically.”

“Oh…”

Brian sighs. “It’s like an in-joke with Zone docs. Don’t worry about it.”

Gerard accepts the explanation and turns to guard the door as Brian collects up the bandages and medications they need. A few moments later he hears Brian utter a quiet curse.

“Fuck.”

“What is it?” Gerard asks, peering back into the storeroom.

“They’ve locked away most of the medicine. The only easy access stuff is BLI’s happy pills.” Brian is pointing to a large closet set into as far wall. The room has a glass door and Gerard can see lines of pill bottles on shelves along the walls.

“Do we need them?”

“Yes.” Brian nods firmly. “We can’t do much without them.”

“And you can’t get in?” Gerard asks, scratching his head thoughtfully.

“It needs an actual key. I don’t have it.”

“Okay, I can shoot the glass, but we’ll definitely attract attention.”

Brian nods. “Help me? I tell you what to grab and we each grab half the stuff and make a break for it?”

Gerard shrugs. “Sounds like the best plan to me.”

Brian write a string of strange names down Gerard’s arm, explaining how he can see most of them on the left hand side of the room before they both retrieve their guns and fire at the glass door. An alarm starts blaring immediately.

“Figures.” Gerard mutters and he steps over the shattered glass and starts scanning the shelves, grabbing any bottles with labels that match the names Brian wrote on him and dumping them into Brian’s open duffle bag. Too quickly there is shouting and the sounds of running feet approaching the storeroom.

“Time to go.” Gerard calls. Brian zips up the bag and follows Gerard out of the room and down the hall.

Around the bend they run into a small group of doctors. The doctors are in various states of dress ranging from pajamas and no shoes to full scrubs. At sight of the two Killjoys bearing down on them they freeze, some even throw up their hands in surrender. Gerard levels his gun at them.

“Get against the wall,” He orders. “Back to me, hands where I can see them.”

They comply. Gerard waves Brian on and together the two slip passed the doctors without firing a single shot.

“Get the door,” Gerard says. Brian hurries ahead and opens the outer door, the hinges grinding loudly.

Gerard turns to follow Brian when a side door is thrown open. A group of Dracs bursts through it cutting Gerard off from the exit.

“Party,” Brian yells. He slings the duffle bag over his back and charges toward Gerard, gun in hand.

“No. Go!” Gerard orders, pointing to the door, their only escape, while simultaneously taking out Dracs with his raygun.

“But...”

Gerard fires a few well-aimed shots at the nearest Drac, not even gracing Brian with a look. “I said ‘go!’”

Brian hesitates before turning and running for the exit.

He makes it to the doorway when he hears a blood-curdling scream.

Brian turns back just in time to see Gerard seizing uncontrollably, a pair of taser wires latched onto his chest. As soon as the electric shock ends Gerard drops to the ground with a sickening thunk. He remains motionless as Dracs and doctors alike surround his prone form.

Everyone in the room is focused on the downed Killjoy. Brian uses this to his advantage as he escapes, unnoticed, through the outer door.

*

Outside Patrick is waiting in the driver’s seat, engine running. Brian throws himself into the open passenger door.

“Drive!” he yells.

“Where’s–”

“Drive!”

Patrick drives.

*

No one even chases them. The alarm shuts off while they are still within sight of the facility and not a single Drac is dispatched to pursue them.

“What do you think that means?” Patrick asks, glancing nervously back at the building fading into the distance.

Brian shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

*

The second time Mikey is distracted from his vigil the reason is much more concerning. Young Volcano - Andy, as Pete had told them - is coughing. Ray wakes with a jolt and is immediately by Andy’s side, holding the injured Killjoy in a sitting position. Andy groans between each cough as the movement exacerbates his myriad injuries.

Abruptly Andy’s coughing cuts out and his hand goes quickly over his mouth. Mikey reacts before Ray has a chance to say anything. He grabs Gerard’s bucket of spray paint. Dumping the aerosol cans on the floor, he gets the bucket to Andy just as Andy retches violently enough that some of his vomit splashes, landing on the hand Mikey’s using to hold the bucket in place. Mikey shudders in disgust.

When he’s done vomiting Andy collapses, slumping against Ray.

“Can I get a light?” Ray asks Mikey, trying futilely to study Andy’s face in the dark.

A flashlight flicks on and Mikey looks up startled to see Frank sitting up on his makeshift bed. Frank looks like he just woke up with his eyes half-lidded. His broken leg sticks out straight, while his good leg is folded with a floodlight resting on his knee. Frank’s eyes widen as he takes in the scene he’s just illuminated.

A horrified squeak escapes Mikey’s lips as he realizes what Frank sees: Blood. A line of blood runs down the corner of Andy’s mouth and when Mikey looks at his own hand he spots blood dripping off his fingertips. However, the contents of the bucket are more stomach content than blood, with only a thin red layer mixed in with stomach bile.

“You think that’s bad?” Mikey asks.

Ray nods and then shrugs. “It’s bad,” he admits. “But it’s not much. Not enough for him to have internal bleeding in his stomach. I don’t think.”

“You don’t think?”

Ray shakes his head. “If it were internal bleeding it should be worse, much worse. This, I dunno. It’s not much though, it’s not bad. Not immediately at least. Sometimes a little blood in vomit means nothing serious at all.”

Mikey finds he’s not sure what disgusts him more: the vomit, or the fact that he’s suddenly relieved by it. Whatever this is it seems it won’t kill Andy tonight.

*

Mikey wakes to the sounds of sobbing.

He’d given over guard duty to Ray for the rest of the night in order to get some sleep himself. Ray had also stayed up to keep an eye on Andy in case he got worse.

Now, however, Andy lies completely limp, chest still. Pete has wrapped him friend in a tight embrace and is crying openly while cradling Andy’s head as if by holding him close Pete might be able to bring his friend back. Joe, on the other hand is kneeling on the floor by the end of the table as if he had dropped to his knees and forgotten to get up. He stares ahead blankly, eyes brimming with tears, and remains completely silent.

Ray is standing apart, watching the scene in front of him with a stricken expression. Mikey stumbles over to him, shaking off the stiffness in his joints. He opens his mouth to ask, but Ray beats him to it.

“He just fell asleep,” Ray says, voice breathy with disbelief. “He was breathing and then he wasn’t. It was so quiet.”

Mikey wraps an arm around Ray’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault,” he says, firmly.

Ray nods quietly.

*

The first light of day is cresting over the dunes when the Trans Am pulls up to the diner.

Mikey rushes out to meet them only to get brushed aside as Patrick pushes past him into the diner. Brian stops in front of Mikey, catching something in Mikey’s eyes.

“How is he?” Brian asks, shifting the duffle bag on his shoulder.

Mikey shakes his head. “Dead.”

Brian curses and yanks the bag off his shoulder. For a moment it looks like he is going to throw it, but then he seems to remember the bag’s contents. He drops it gently to the ground.

In the diner behind him Mikey can hear Patrick’s frantic denial as he takes in the scene Mikey had woken to less than an hour earlier. Before him Mikey watches Brian card his hands through his own hair with a frustrated groan. Mikey wants to reach out and take Brian’s hands. Wants to hold him close and convince him that Andy’s death is not his fault. He stays back instead, giving Brian some space.

Mikey looks beyond Brian to the Trans Am idling on the sandy road, both doors left wide open.

“Brian?” Mikey asks. “Where’s Gerard?”

Brian looks up at Mikey from under his bangs with a pained expression. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Mikey asks, confusion and concern furrowing his brow.

“We had to break into the medicine cabinet. It drew some attention,” Brian speaks quickly, the words spilling out of his mouth so rapidly it makes it difficult to understand them. “We we’re running. We were almost out and Gerard… Gerard told me to go ahead. And then a gang of Dracs showed up and- I’ve never seen that many Dracs in a Betterment Camp before- and I was by the door, but Gerard wasn’t and he told me to go, but I didn’t want to, but he told me to run and then they tasered him. And… Then I ran.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

*

By the time Ray pries Mikey off of Brian he has a black eye and a bloody nose. Mikey doesn’t have a scratch, Brian hadn’t put up a fight as Mikey had grabbed him by the shirt and screamed at him before deciding fists would be more effective than words. Now, held in a disarming bear hug by Ray, Mikey reverts once more to his words.

“You left him to die, you bastard!” Mikey yells, struggling against Ray. “You fucking coward! How could you leave him?”

Brian repeats the same words he had been saying since before Mikey started punching him. “I’m sorry.”

Mikey stills, giving up on fighting Ray he drops his voice to a deadly calm tone. “Sorry doesn’t cut it.” Each word is thrown like a knife and Brian flinches as they hit.

“I know.” Brian responds sadly.

They stay like that, no one moving, until Ray is sure Mikey won’t start attacking Brian again. He slowly releases Mikey and goes over to help Brian to his feet, pulling him inside the diner and leaving Mikey alone outside with nothing but his thoughts and his brother’s Trans Am.

When Mikey returns to the diner he speaks to no one and no one speaks to him. Frank glances at Mikey a few times, but when Mikey levels a glare at him he quickly shuffles away.

Together the group wraps the fallen Killjoy in a sheet and Grace holds the door for them as they carry him to the van. The remaining trio had decided that they wanted to bury their fallen comrade closer to home. Once Andy is in the van the rest of them pile in saying quick goodbyes. Even Frank shuffles out of the diner on crutches to see them off.

Brian climbs in with them, bandana pressed to his bloody nose, saying that he needs to retrieve his Jeep from where they left it at the other hideout. Grace argues that Brian should stay with them, but Ray shushes her. Mikey says nothing. Brian looks as if he wants to say something, but with Mikey refusing to look at him he gives up and closes the sliding van door.

“You know you’re welcome to stay with us. You and Grace,” Frank says to Ray as they watch the van drive away. “If that wasn’t already clear.”

Ray smiles. “Yeah, thanks. That. That would be really nice.”

“No problem,” Frank says. “Now help me get back inside, my leg is killing me.”

Ray agrees and carries Frank back inside with Grace trailing them with the crutches.

Mikey stays behind. As he watches the van fade into the distance he thinks about what Brian said, about how Gerard was captured. Before Mikey had freaked out Brian had said something that struck Mikey as odd. Now Mikey thinks back to the details of the story. Brian had said that the Dracs had tasered Gerard. That was the word Brian had used. Tasered.

Now, Mikey wonders.

*

Mikey enters the diner where the other three are tucked into a booth, eating straight from cans of beans. He notices an unopened one in an empty spot with a can opener and a fork beside it set for him, but he can’t imagine eating anything now.

He places his hands on the table firmly. Three sets of eye look up at him expectantly.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lip as Mikey tells his friends what he has just realized.

“Gerard’s not dead.”

*

Keep your boots tight, keep your gun close, and die with your mask on if you’ve got to. This is only the beginning…