The Oncoming Storm
Chapter 2 – Start Running

Pairing(s): Jet Star/Kobra Kid, aka Ray/Mikey (Rikey)
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Warnings: Language and mild violence. Pre-slash starts this chapter

Chapter Summary: Mikey finds himself swept up into a Trans Am by his mysterious saviour, and tries his damn hardest to find out anything and everything about him.


Mikey and his saviour had been travelling for what seemed like days in the Trans Am, and the kid still had no idea who he was. He didn't even know his name yet… not that he'd had the guts to ask.

That was Mikey's problem – he was too awkward, too unsure of himself to have the social skills to ask. It'd always been that way - especially during his younger days in Battery City. He'd never had to guts to talk to many people; the streets were rough, and the people were rougher. It wasn't exactly the ideal environment for a young boy with such low self esteem to grow up in.

Frank had helped him through his awkwardness the best he could, but the moment he'd left, it was back to square one. Mikey wasn't a people person… he never had been, and he knew that he never would be. But even now, when he could really do with just a little confidence, his insecurities failed him.

Fuck, what do I even say…?

It was weird. He felt compelled to trust this man, despite how little he actually knew about him. Was it the fact that he'd saved him? Was it that he could tell he was a Killjoy? Both? Or maybe, something else entirely… shit. Mikey was beyond confused, and it definitely didn't help matters that he'd instantly been attracted to the guy, without time to even consider the reasons why.

"S-so, umm… can I ask what your name is?" He finally worked up the courage to speak, but his voice was embarrassingly croaky, accompanied by a slight nervous stutter.

Smooth… fucking smooth operating, Michael.

The wild haired man said nothing, just grunting softly and gesturing to Mikey to be quiet with his free hand. His expression was mainly unreadable behind his shades, but from what Mikey could see, he seemed to be concentrating on something…

The radio?

"Alright children, the lights are out and the party's over. It's time for me, Dr. D, to start running and say goodbye for a little while… And I know you're gonna miss me, so I'll leave you with…"

The signal seemed to give out a little at that point, and the Killjoy seemed more than a little pissed, pounding on the old-style device with his gloved fist until it decided to co-operate again.

"PSKZZT…radiation we call the sun? It'll burst you into flames if you stay in one place for too long. That is if the static don't get you first. So remember, even if you're dusted, YOU may be gone – but out here in the desert, your shadow lives on without you. This is Doctor Death Defying, signing off."

To Mikey's surprise, the old American anthem began to play, making him jump a little in his seat. Thousands of questions ran through his mind, all bursting to get out.

Who are you? Who the fuck is Death Defying? What the heck was he going on about? Where did he go?

But the frustration and… sheer sadness written all over the man next to him silenced Mikey's questions before they could escape his mouth. Without taking his eyes off of the trail, he turned the radio down and spoke for the first time since rescuing Mikey.

"Listen kid. I know how you feel, I know you've got questions. I can understand that; but right now, we need to hit the gas and get moving. And fucking quickly, too. Save 'em. Bombard me with 'em later, I won't mind. But right now, we need to get our asses moving to Zone 6 before we both get ghosted. Got that?"

Mikey just nodded weakly, but the man hadn't waited for a reaction. He'd already slammed down on the accelerator, and they were moving through the desert at a fucking scarily fast speed.

The adrenaline flowed as the wastes flew by.

Well, he thought with a grin, I'm pretty sure I could get used to this.

—-

By the time the Trans Am finally ground to a halt, the sun was setting and Mikey felt light-headed – he couldn't tell if it was because of fatigue, hunger, thirst or some other shit… and he didn't particularly care, either. He just felt like passing out again, there and then.

They seemed to have pulled up in some sort of sheltered alcove on the edge of the infamous Zones' Mountain range, near something that looked like a cave.

"C'mon, kid. Out you get, you look fucking exhausted."

Mikey was all too happy to oblige as the guy opened the door for him, but the moment he stepped out of the car his knees were giving out and he almost toppled over. Hair flying everywhere, the man rushed and hooked his arms under Mikey's in an attempt to save him, accidentally pulling him close to his chest in the process.

The kid's breath hitched at the contact, his face going red with embarrassment. Well, that was… unexpected.

"U-umm…" the guy's seemingly cool and collected demeanour slipped for a moment as he put Mikey back on two feet. "Let's just get you inside, yeah?"

He led the way, adjusting his aviators as he went, and Mikey followed without question.

Soon enough, they were making their way through the cave he'd spotted earlier. It was dimly lit and it stunk of gasoline – Mikey couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the smell. Random shit was scattered around: spare parts, beer bottles, clothes, you name it.

Different. Mikey thought with a smile. His old home in the slums may have been a bit ramshackle, but it was tidy; maybe a bit too tidy. He liked the chaos going on in here.

Picking some spot or other amongst the mess, the guy made himself comfortable and looked up at Mikey, finally taking off his shades and gesturing for him to sit down too. He moved some of the shit from the floor before he even considered complying, but soon enough he was on the floor.

"So, kid, like I promised earlier – fire away with the questions." He'd gone back to his non-chalant, 'I just don't give a fuck, bro' attitude, cracking open a beer bottle and leaning back against the rock.

"Well…"

Make this shit count, Mikey.

"Okay, this is an obvious one. What's your name?"

"The name's Jet Star, kid. And yeah, I'm well aware it's a weird name. But I'm a Killjoy, that's how we roll." He pulled out his ray gun from his belt and twirled it around his finger, as if it proved a point. "We're named after our guns, y'know. It's all luck of the draw." He pointed to the strange writing on the gun, and Mikey had to squint to make out the 'JET STAR' printed on it.

Jet Star. That's got a nice ring to it… he thought distractedly.

"But anyway, kid. I should ask for your name, too. It's only fair."

He blinked, snapping out of his sudden daydream. "Err… my name's M-mikey…"

Jet took a moment to think about that. "Well, 'Mikey', if you wanna survive in the Zones, you're gonna need a bit of a name change. But we'll discuss that later… go on. I'm assuming you've got more to ask, kid."

"Why did you save me?" It was a simple question that'd been playing on his mind for a while.

"That's easy. I have morals, believe it or not. Saw those Dracs waiting around, I knew something was up… they only ever stay in one place for long if they've got a hostage or two. Drove over in the Trans Am, kicked some ass, and I couldn't exactly leave you there in the middle of the fucking desert, right? Besides, you seem tough enough. You could make a good Killjoy with the right training…" He trailed off for a little while, taking a swig of his beer and eying Mikey up. "And you're cute, too. That's a big bonus."

Mikey blushed crimson and looked away, grinning sheepishly and scratching the back of his neck (one of his many nervous habits). Jet Star just chuckled and winked at him.

"Hey, I'm only saying what I see. There's no shame out here." But Mikey still refused to look at him, and he eventually sighed in defeat. "Pff, alright then. Next question?"

Composing himself, Mikey pressed on. "S-so… what's it like to be a Killjoy?"

Jet's eyes lit up when he heard that. "Hell yes, I've been waiting for this one!"

Putting his beer down, he straightened himself up, and his untameable fro fell across his face as if it had a mind of its own.

"Well, where do I start? It's fuckin' amazing for the most part, but sometimes it isn't y'know. The best thing about it is the freedom – no-one can tell you what to do, and you can do whatever the fuck you like because of that. You get this, like, sense of pride whenever you do something that you know'll hurt BLIND, 'cause you know you're fighting the good fight. Yeah, it's great for most of the time…"

He sighed and frowned.

"But… it can be pretty tough, too. You're always on the run; safety ain't an option. Food's a tough bitch to find sometimes. Plus, it gets real lonely out here. It's worth every minute of it though, trust me. You've just gotta be cut out for it! Anything else you wanna ask?"

"Yeah, actually. Just one more question…"

"Oh really now?"

"When the fuck can I start?"

Jet threw his head back and laughed – this was all going better than he'd expected. "You're definitely eager! How's tomorrow morning sound?"

Mikey giggled. "Sounds perfect."