Cola's POV
I'd never wanted to die more than now.
The burly masked guard escorted-excuse me, dragged me through the narrow hallways. They seemed like a never ending maze, heightening my anticipation. I knew I had no choice but to do as they said, but I needed to fight back. I just needed to find the appropriate time…but how would I proceed? My raygun had been confiscated when we were taken forcibly into the white van, handcuffs so tight my skin bled. They knocked us out before we knew what hit us, their technology was growing more advanced every second. While we were stuck with shit ray guns that jammed whenever you used them. I fought back from the guard, struggling to escape his grip. He was abnormally large for a Drac, his baseball mitt hands clenching my shaking shoulders. I began to thrash about and yell. If not to escape, just to piss him off. My steel-toed boot collided with his kneecap, and I, noticing the cracking sound I'd made, punched him with the hand he'd released and bolted down the hallway. Before long I heard him telling me to go through the unmarked door. I'd only been dreaming.
The guard stayed silent as he shoved me into what looked like an interrogation room. I was confused, why wasn't I being brainwashed in a cave somewhere? Violence was wrong, they wanted to do more than just turn us into Dracs, they wanted to break us first. My thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. I spun around to see a sickly pale man in a long coat, grinning menacingly down at me.
Korse.
My heart raced at the sight of such a vile human, if he was human. I refused to look at him, instead concentrating on the opposite wall, turning my back to him. My eyes began to water. They burnt my cheeks. I quickly wiped my face with my shirt. He chuckled at my tears.
"Hello, Cola Corruption. Or would you rather I refer to you as your birth name? You killjoys seem to forget those quite often, care for a refresher?" His voice dug into my skin. He couldn't know my birth name, I'd never told anybody. Not even Atomic Busboy knew my name…
"Alright then, let us begin shall we?" He grinned, motioning to the aluminum chair opposite the table from him. Glancing at his cold face, I decided sitting in a chair farthest away from him wasn't as bad as it seemed. I sat on the freezing chair without any outbursts.
He looked me square in the face, analyzing my features. I noticed him take in my baby blues, and their contrast to my hot pink pixie cut. I rolled my eyes and tried to analyze his features. It was too difficult though, his dead eyes and deep wrinkles were so sharp, and I soon resorted to looking at the table.
"You have such lovely eyes darling-"
"Do not call me that."
He started again, smiling. "I was just saying that your eyes are quite breathtaking, not exactly fitting of a killjoy. Killjoys are all blood and dirt, grease and pain. There's no beauty anywhere there. But you, darling, are a diamond in the rough. I don't even see a speck of blood on you-"
"I fight long distance. There is no need for bloodshed to be seen close u-" I'd said too much.
His face lit up. I'd given him exactly what he needed. "Oh? So you prefer to not be on the front lines of battle then?" I didn't respond. "Perhaps, there is a reason you prefer to fight long distance?"
My lip trembled slowly. There was a reason. I'd never even considered why I preferred to fight long distance, I thought it was just a habit.
He grinned manically. "Perhaps…there was an experience in your life that triggered your near obsession with staying far from the action, your fear of being too close to the action ending in your use of bazookas! The experience was so traumatic that you vowed to never set foot on a battlefield, but you were forced to once you became a killjoy!" His voice was rising. "You see, you never wanted to become a killjoy! You were forced to fend for yourself once you found Busboy lying motionless in the middle of the desert, and upon being attacked by S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit, you stole his weapon and attacked. That was when you found you had incredible accuracy and your subconscious was tricked into believing that your gift could save lives, as it saved your friends life! And that is why you fight from a distance, afraid to see your loved ones hurt! Afraid to see the truth behind your bullet! AFRAID TO ADMIT THAT YOU ARE ONLY A COWARD WITH A GUN! AFRAID TO ADMIT THAT YOU ARE AFRAID!" He screamed, rising from his seat.
"AND THAT, ALEKSANDRA ROMATOWSKI, IS WHY YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY BLOOD ON YOU, AND THAT IS WHY YOUR EYES HAVE MAINTAINED THEIR COLOR, AND NOT FADED TO GREY AS ALL THE OTHERS HAVE! YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT YOURSLEF COLA, NEVER CARING ABOUT WHAT EVERYONE ELSE IS GOING THROUGH, ONLY YOUR OWN SELFISH FEARS!" He calmed down, beaming proudly. He slowly sat down in his seat, excited to see my reaction.
I sat still, my face cringing at his words. My brows furrowed in thought, but the pools forming in my eyes already knew what he was saying was true. I was a coward. I didn't deserve to be a killjoy, I'd only be putting my friends in danger with my fear of them being in danger, resulting in me not being able to help them, re-" My thoughts were jumbled, I couldn't think straight through all my emotions. What were the point of emotions anyways? Why did I have to be bothered with them? I didn't need them! I didn't want them!
"That's it Aleksandra….exactly right." His voice was soothing. I must have been talking out loud, for he reached into his sleeve and pulled out something small and white. I wiped my eyes with the hen of my shirt.
"W-what is this?" It appeared to be a pill of sorts, the only way of telling through a line running down it's middle, dividing the pill into shades of white and grey.
Korse's smiled seduced me into a state of calm. He spoke. "Aleksandra darling, this is the answer to all your problems. This little pill, well pill is such an ugly word, this little miracle will remove all those troublesome emotions from your head. Your mind will be clear, and you will never have to worry about anything again." He said these words as if he'd repeated them hundreds of times before. They worked. I wanted that miracle more than anything. I pleaded with him.
"May I…have the miracle?" I spoke softly, my voice trembling. The corners of his mouth rose slowly. He bent over the table, undoing my handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists. He held my hand, placing the pill in it, and closing my hand into a fist with his pale hand.
"Welcome to happiness, #2274081."