"Never again, and never again. They gave us two shots to the back of the head, and we're all dead now." ~My Chemical Romance, "I Never Told You What I Do for a Living"
On the way back from a trip to the gas station, with various groceries in the backseat, Jet Star and Kobra Kid cruised down Route Guano. Their spoils were mostly beans, as usual, but they had scored some chips, another bottle of lithium for Kobra (apparently their friend had gotten lucky twice in a row) and an assortment of half-rotten-but-edible fruit, thanks to Sweet Revenge's weakness for their music and his willingness to trade for their newest songs, "Vampire Money" and "The Only Hope For Me Is You." They were listening to one of Jet's favorite stations, which played mind-numbingly repetitive love songs that were mushier that their newfound fruit. When the station started on yet another "long set of continuous light rock," Kobra rested his head against the passenger side window, bored out of his mind.
"Your music sucks, man," Kobra had often teased Jet Star about his choices of radio stations, and he hoped he could at least get Jet to smile now. Jet had been kind of depressed recently, so maybe he'd appreciate a little cheering up.
But to Kobra's surprise, Jet didn't give his usual mock scolding about how beautiful music was good for one's soul; instead he frowned at the stereo as though he'd just realized what he was listening to. "You're right."
"I am?" Kobra Kid raised an eyebrow, concealing his surprise behind his sunglasses.
"Yeah. This song does fucking suck," Jet Star snapped, in a casual tone of disgust that Kobra had never heard him use before. "It's all whiny and depressing. We need some heavy metal, dammit." He changed the radio to one of Kobra's stations, which was playing "Burn" by Papa Roach. He started belting out the song, anger plain in his voice.
Kobra was shocked, but he did enjoy the song, so he joined in. They watched all the sand dunes and fragile little plants rush by outside as they bellowed out a song about setting people on fire. It felt strange but good, Kobra decided, to see Jet Star like this, as he couldn't remember a time when his friend had shown real irritation, or any sort of negative emotion, really.
They finished the song by simultaneously screaming, "I wanna watch you burn!" at an unknown enemy, and suddenly they were flung to the side as the car, with a bang and a hiss, lurched right, fishtailing.
"Damn! I think our tire blew out!" Jet Star's voice was startled, but furious.
The car slowed to a halt and the two got out to inspect the damage. Their right front tire was punctured by several thick spikes, and there were more scattered about on the road. Kobra knew it was a speed trap set up by the Draculoids, and sure enough, about ten of them leapt out from behind a high sand dune, lasers blazing with artificial heat.
Jet Star and Kobra Kid whipped out their ray guns and returned fire. Fortunately, the Dracs were notoriously bad shots, so they took out most of them quickly. But then there came the sound of multiple vehicles from up ahead on the highway. A feeling of dread matched only by that of stage fright sank into Kobra's gut as the motorbikes fanned out around them and a black Lamborghini slithered up and stopped by the broken-down Trans-Am. Its passengers got out slowly, like they had all the time in the world.
There were two more Dracs, as if the eight surrounding them on motorcycles and three they hadn't managed to kill in the first assault weren't enough. And emerging from the passenger side, with his ugly little bald head held high, was Korse himself.
"Oh no…" Jet Star whispered, and Kobra wanted to slap him for echoing what he'd been trying not to think.
The two Killjoys gunned down as many Dracs as they could, but one of Korse's escorts shot Jet in the leg with expert precision. Of course those ones could shoot: they were second-in-command of all the Dracs out in the Zones, Kobra realized angrily. The only reason they hadn't just killed them both on the spot was that their leader wanted to be able to gloat over his victory.
It's not gonna end like this. I'm not going down so easily.
As the ten remaining enemies closed ranks on them, Kobra Kid decided it was time to use his last resort. Throwing down his gun (it was hard to hit anything accurately under this much pressure), he cracked his knuckles and charged at the nearest Drac, shouting a war cry as he went.
The Drac barely had time to say, "What the- " before Kobra punched him in the face, hard. He went down, and Kobra whirled in time to hit another in the stomach. Two more, who stood there in shock at this sudden change of pace, he felled with karate chops upside the head. He then turned to fend off a blow from a third, but gasped as a sudden wave of pain flared in his shoulder. He'd been shot in the back, and the Drac he was facing seized the opportunity to trip him. Kobra happened to fall on the same burn wound, and cried out when the tiny bits of gravel in the road dug into him.
Two of his enemies grabbed him by the arms and pulled him to his feet. He could see Jet Star fighting to keep his laser. Jet lost quickly, thanks to a kick in the ribs, and simply lay there in stunned defeat as the Drac who held his gun pressed a foot on his chest to pin him.
The entire battle had taken less than five minutes.
Korse, who had just stood by and watched smugly the entire time, now came forward and snatched Kobra's gun from the ground. He pointed it at its owner and smirked. Kobra thrashed against his captors, but Korse put a stop to that immediately by punching him in the solar plexus so hard he felt as if he would vomit up a lung. "Now, now," Korse purred. "Can't have you hurting any more people, can we?"
Kobra felt a rage hotter than the sun above them consume him, as his mind filled with thoughts of all the ways he'd kill that arrogant bastard if he had the chance. He gasped for breath, to try to say something defiant, but all he could come up with was a raspy, "Burn in Hell."
His opponent chuckled. "Oh, no, no, no." Korse grinned, and sighed as though disappointed. "Silly Killjoy. Don't you know I'm not going to do that until I know for a fact all of your little friends will be down there waiting for me?" He cocked the gun.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kobra Kid could see Jet Star looking perfectly calm as he mouthed to Kobra the words see ya. He smiled as the Drac above him took aim at his face, even though it said in a voice with a half-repressed British accent, "Say goodbye, you foolish rebel."
What's he so happy about? Kobra wondered, desperately wishing for some chance of escape, a cavalry on the horizon. But there was none. He didn't want to die like this! His frightened mind somehow found enough clarity to think of something fairly comforting: At least I get to die with my friend. That's not so bad.
And even though it was the last thing in the world he felt like doing, Kobra Kid smiled back. He held Jet's gaze until a flash of heat and light seared into his senses…