The Oncoming Storm
Chapter 1 – Just A Little Bit Lost

Pairing(s): Jet Star/Kobra Kid, aka Ray/Mikey (Rikey)
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Warnings: Language and mild violence. Slash will start in a later chapter.

Chapter Summary: Hopelessly lost in the New Californian desert, Mikey meets an unlikely saviour.


I think my head's gonna explode…

Having walked for two days straight under the heat of the burning sun, Mikey was at his wit's end. He could feel his pallid skin begin to blister beneath its glare, so used to living in the city's shadows that the sudden sunlight had a horrid effect. His feet were sore from the trek, his mind exhausted, but still he couldn't find a trace of human life – for better or for worse.

Fuck. He really, really needed a drink, but being the idiot he was, he'd drank the last of the water the day before. Damnit, he regretted that now. His whole body cried out for water; he was pretty damn sure that if he didn't find any soon, he'd pass out.

I'm gonna die out here, I swear…

Unable to bear the heat for any longer, Mikey wearily peeled the shirt from his sweat-coated torso, exposing his pale and sensitive skin to the relentless daylight, and tied it around his head – a messy, makeshift bandana. It'd have to do. Sure, his back would suffer, but at the moment in time he wasn't thinking clearly and just couldn't give a single fuck.

Thirsty. Need shade. Gonna die. Oh shit.

Mirages swam before his eyes, tempting and dangerous. A particularly deadly cactus somehow became a pool of cool, refreshing water. A jagged rock became a lush oasis.

Nothing really made sense anymore.

Even if he didn't die, he knew he'd end up batshit insane.

He sighed, but kept on walking at a steady pace, hoping that he'd stumble on a miracle. Pff, yeah. Like that was gonna happen. Mikey and luck did NOT go together.

He'd grown up watching his so-called 'friends' love and leave him, abandoning him at the first whiff of an offer from Better Living Industries. That was the thing, though – what he lacked in luck and opportunities, he'd always made up for in common sense. Whereas the dumb fuckers around him were the little lapdogs of BLIND, Mikey saw through it all. The kids who received "honourary" positions there were carted off to the main headquarters, happy and blissfully unaware that they'd never be seen again. Ever.

And the worst thing about it? No one gave a shit. In fact, if anything, the more it went on, the less people cared. Parents were all too willing to hand over their children to those bastards, for a quick buck and maybe a little reward on the side. It was disgusting to say the least.

What happened to the kids sent to BLIND? Fuck knows. Mikey's best guess was that they all became lab rats – guinea pigs for the latest perfectionist-drug; hell, they'd have been better off dead with a fate like that.

The problem was, the entire situation always struck too close to home for Mikey. He had a personal vendetta against BLIND – that's right, he wasn't just in this for the good of Battery City. No, this was for his own gain, too. That's what kept him trekking through the wastes: he knew that this was for everyone, himself especially himself.

You see, Mikey had just one friend throughout his childhood – the short, dark-haired Frank Iero. They'd met near the abandoned warehouse in District 8, and had struck up an instant friendship. Both saw through the bullshit of society. Both escaped it all through their passion for music. Both wanted to make a difference, but didn't have a clue where to begin.

Their similarities soon made them inseparable – blood brothers, joined at the hip from the age of twelve. They fought the power together, and kept no secrets from each other.

Frank would always lend Mikey an ear and a shoulder to cry on when he felt especially awkward and sombre. He'd even trusted him with what he'd considered to be his biggest secret – that he didn't like like girls, he liked guys. And when Mikey broke down in tears before him, stuttering out his apologies for even mentioning it and begging for him to forgive and forget, Frank didn't judge him or runaway.

No, instead he picked him up from the ground, pulled him into a hug and told him it was okay, that he was okay. He told Mikey he was so strong for coming out to him, and that he didn't need to worry, not at all. The kid had never felt more accepted.

Mikey couldn't have asked for a better friend. Sadly, all good things come to an end, and this was no exception.

Frank's parents had never particularly loved him – he was the youngest, the smallest, the runt of the litter – and not long after his 17th birthday, he was ever so conveniently offered a position at District 5's BLIND Lab. His mother jumped at the chance to get rid of an extra mouth to feed… so against everything he wanted, Frank was shipped off without even a farewell to his best friend.

He hadn't been seen since.

Those bastards needed to pay. And pay with their fucking lives.

But Mikey was getting weaker and weaker, despite his best efforts to keep going. The world was blurring and warping in front of his eyes, and he felt exhausted beyond belief… It was as if the sun kept getting hotter, his throat drier, and his legs heavier. He was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"F-fuck…" With that said, Mikey collapsed to the ground, his knees giving out and letting him fall. Though he tried his best to stay conscious, the cool, inky darkness in his mind was too much to say no to.

Practically in the middle of no-man's land, the kid passed out.

—-

Where am I…?

Mikey came to his senses god knows how many hours later – the sun was just beginning to set over the mountain range, bathing the desert in shades of dark orange and red. But something was up. He'd been moved in his sleep, because now he found himself leaning against a stone wall… and shit, someone had tied up his hands!

Opening his eyes with apprehension, Mikey blinked to adapt to the brightness before tilting his head upwards to get a look at his captor…

Oh, shit…

Make that captors. Surrounding him was a patrol of five or six Draculoids, looking particularly menacing with their unreadable, mask-hidden expressions… and, well, not to mention the big-ass fucking ray-guns they were pointing directly at him.

Well, isn't this just fucking wonderful?

If he was going to die now, he wasn't going to beg for mercy. He was going to look them right in the face and laugh. Fuck it all.

He braced himself for the end, but something strange was going on… the Dracs weren't even looking at him anymore. They were looking into the distance, their stances defensive and nervous. Something had scared them, and Mikey couldn't even turn around to see what it was.

Mikey could hear a noise in the distance – a low pitched rumbling. Was that what he thought it was? A car? In the middle of this fucking wasteland?

Right on cue to answer his question, a battered, classic car roared by and screeched to a halt. Out jumped a tall, lean (and, even if Mikey didn't want to admit it yet, sexy) man, armed with a wild fro and an oddly colourful ray gun. With aviators perched on the end of his nose, he assessed the situation with a smirk and raised his weapon, opening fire.

The Draculoids didn't stand a chance. One by one they fell… it was as if they hadn't expected to be stopped at all. Either that or they were all just fucking rookies.

The mysterious stranger blew the smoke from his gun and placed it in his belt with an expert's flourish. He surveyed the destruction he'd left behind, looking quite pleased with himself.

It was only then that he seemed to notice Mikey. The man looked him up and down and stepped forwards, drawing his ray gun again and aiming. Mikey flinched. Shit, was he after him as well? He closed his eyes and tensed up as he heard the gun fire…

To his surprise, he was still alive. When he looked down at his previously bound hands, though, he saw that he was free now.

This man had saved his life and set him free. How could he even start to repay him?

"Listen, kid. If you wanna live, you're gonna have to come with me." The stranger extended a hand for Mikey to take, and Mikey snapped out of his awe-induced haze to grip it, blushing.

How could he say no?