"We all wanna party when the funeral ends, and we all get together when we bury our friends." ~My Chemical Romance, "Kill All Your Friends"
Party Poison and Fun Ghoul sat across from one another at a table in the diner, absorbed in the tension and anxiety that choked the room like a blanket of nerve gas. Party sat rigidly with his arms folded in front of him, glaring stonily out the window at the growing darkness. Fun fiddled with a particularly interesting loose thread on his glove and tried to think of something to say to break the silence they'd lapsed into after running out of ideas about what had happened to Jet Star and Kobra Kid. But there was really nothing he could say, and so they sat, waiting, until-
"Show Pony!" Party Poison jumped up as the Killjoy in question entered on roller skates. "What'd you find out? What's going on? Where are they?"
"In case anyone cares," Show Pony removed his helmet and dodged the questions, his voice lacking its usual teasing edge, "Hot Chimp gave me a nice, finished copy of 'Death Before Disco.'" He handed a record to Dr. Death Defying, who was waiting to hear the news while broadcasting some "oldies" song from 2005. "She had to dig it out of boxes of old CD's and transfer it to vinyl."
Dr. Death grinned. "Shiny! Tell her I said thank- "
Fun Ghoul cut him off sharply, asking Show Pony, "What did she say?"
He looked around at them for a second, biting his lip. Then he said, "Well, she told me that BLI had just sent word of the extermination of two notorious terrorists over on Route Guano. The Dracs killed them, took the bodies as evidence, and stole their Trans-Am. BLI calls it a 'great triumph' and plans to hold a celebration." His voice broke on the last word, and he sat down heavily in a booth. In a strained whisper, Show Pony confirmed completely everyone's worst fear: "Jet Star and Kobra Kid were dusted."
The silence that followed this statement was even colder than the one preceding it. Party Poison spoke after a few seconds, his voice emotionless except for a hint of bitterness. "Dr. Death Defying, tell all your listeners about this as soon as you can. Don't make too big a deal out of it, but make sure everyone knows it's definitely not a cause for a goddamn celebration. Fun Ghoul, go break the news to the Girl. Show Pony, tell me everything you know about this party. When is it? Where is it? How many Dracs are coming?" No one moved, still frozen in shock, so Party snapped, "Now!"
They followed his orders reluctantly: Fun Ghoul vanished to the back room, Dr. Death turned back to his desk, and Show Pony moved into the seat across from Party Poison and started talking. Under Show Pony's strangled repetition of facts, Party caught snatches of Dr. Death's announcement: "…a clap with an Exterminator…" "…dusted out on Route Guano…" "…keep your gun close, and die with your mask on…"
By the time Show Pony had finished, and Dr. Death Defying was playing the new copy of the old "Death Before Disco," and Fun Ghoul had returned with the Girl sobbing into his shoulder, Party Poison had come up with a plan.
Fun Ghoul leaned his head against the window of Dr. Death's van, staring out at the passing sand in a haze of exhaustion. He had gotten approximately three hours of sleep the previous night, after completing what was, according to Party Poison, "the most important deadly weapon" Fun would ever make. Add to that the fact that what little sleep he had managed to snag was frequently interrupted by nightmares of his friends dying that made him jolt awake in a cold sweat, and it was remarkable that he was still awake at all. But he had felt compelled to keep his heavy eyelids open all day, because he was worried about Party Poison.
His friend had stayed up for as long as Fun Ghoul had, checking and rechecking his plans for the attack that was now only a half-hour and several more miles away. Party had told them all that this raid would need to be executed perfectly if everyone was to remain "kickin' and breathin'" by the end of the night. He then informed them calmly that Show Pony would drive them there, drop them off, and leave to guard Dr. Death Defying and the Girl, back at the diner. Party and Fun Ghoul would be carrying out the rest, and most dangerous part, of the raid alone.
Naturally, they had not reacted well. Fun was not averse to the idea of having a chance for vengeance on the Draculoids, but even so, it was foolish to try and take on the hundred or so of them that would be at the party with only two people. He had pointed this out to Party, who replied offhandedly with the fact that, firstly, they would also have Hot Chimp, provided that she agreed to reveal her true alliance if given the guarantee that none of the Dracs would be left to tell of her traitorism. And second, Fun Ghoul was not even allowed inside. He was to retrieve the Trans-Am and meet Party Poison out front.
They had all started talking at once, each with similar accusations of Party's near-suicidal lack of caution. Fun remembered Dr. Death having said something like, "I told my listeners to die with their masks on if they had to-and you don't!" Party had waited for everyone to run out of objections before telling them all firmly that this was the most logical way to do things if they wanted to stay alive, as too many Killjoys entering a building would be far too obvious and could undermine the plan, and besides, if anything went wrong- "Which it won't," he'd said with utmost conviction- he'd be the only one to pay for it. He would ensure that Hot Chimp was safely out of the building, and then he'd simply have to hold off the Dracs until the detonation…
"Absolutely not!" Fun Ghoul had snapped. He would sooner die than be the one to leave his friend behind- and certainly not like that. If Party wanted to put his own life at stake, fine. But Fun was definitely not going to kill him off! It was absurd!
Party Poison had sighed, said "I knew this would be difficult," and proceeded to detail all the reasons that his utterly irrational sacrifice was, in fact, best for everyone, since then only one more Killjoy would need to die to obtain revenge. He was completely willing to surrender his own life, as long as the rest of them were okay. "But again," he reminded them, as the Girl was tearing up once more, "That's just the last resort. If there are any other options- besides you guys coming in with me, and especially not you, Fun Ghoul," he snapped, as Fun opened his mouth to protest that he'd come in anyway and Party couldn't stop him. "You're too valuable; the whole thing would be pointless if our detonator was taken out. As I was saying, if there are any other options, I'd be happy to consider them."
No one spoke for a moment, as it was clear to them that Party was certainly not in the mood to consider other options; he'd made up his mind, and unfortunately, his final decision was a terrible one. Show Pony finally spoke, "What about just blowing the place up from outside? Don't even go in and risk it, just do what we did with the Bus."
Party Poison had shaken his head, as they had all known he would. "No. That would work fine if it was just a simple raid, but this is much more than that. This is our only chance to avenge Jet and Kobra's murders. I have to go in there and send BLI the message that if you hurt any of us Killjoys, you will pay. Even if I have to die too."
They had given up after that; what could they do to change their leader's mind, short of tying him to the bed? They had done what Party asked after that: Fun Ghoul had made the most dangerous explosives he could using their limited resources, and Show Pony had delivered them to Hot Chimp. He had brought back the somewhat comforting message that she would be helping Party Poison in the upcoming battle; she, too, was not going to let him go it alone if there was anything she could do. Unlike the others, though, she could make sure that Party got out alive, and there was no doubt that she would.
Fun Ghoul returned his mind slowly to the present, noting that they had pulled up in front of the gas station. Party hopped out of the van, saying something about using the bathroom, and, more importantly, confirming to Sweet Revenge the deaths of Jet Star and Kobra Kid and informing him of Party's plan of attack. Show Pony and Fun Ghoul both stayed behind; the former didn't want to have yet another reminder of the fact that his friends were dead, the latter was simply too tired to waste time and energy on stupid things like moving right then, and both had gone to the bathroom before they left anyway.
Fun passed the time while waiting for Party to return by thinking about a fact his sleep-deprived brain had conjured up: He'd heard once, that when people were killed, they involuntarily relaxed all their organs, including their bowels. In other words, when you died, you also crapped yourself. Maybe Party Poison was preparing to die with as much dignity as he could.
It really wasn't funny, but Fun gave a couple half-hearted chuckles anyway. It was certainly a more entertaining thought than, What if he is planning to die?, which slipped into his mind as Party exited the gas station with a final wave to Sweet Revenge, who was standing in the doorway and staring after him with a look of despair and horror on his face. Had Party Poison said his goodbyes to Sweet Revenge, or was the latter just upset about having to face the news he'd heard last night, over the radio, in the light of day that made it impossible to deny?
Party got back into the passenger seat of the van and they drove off, Fun Ghoul looking back at the gas station and feeling inexplicably sad, like it was the last time he'd ever see it. He shook his head slightly and told himself that he would be back there soon; he'd never told Sweet Revenge how much he valued seeing him, knowing that there was someone else on their side and not just the eight (or now, six) of them against the brainwashed, radiation-blasted remnants of the world.
Besides, Sweet Revenge had promised to get him an extra pack of those totally shiny cherry-flavored Marlboros, so if Fun had anything to say about it, he'd be back.
The rest of the drive dragged on slowly, and Fun Ghoul suspected that Show Pony was taking as long as he could, as he was obviously not looking forward to leaving the two of them facing a hundred enemies by themselves. A nondescript white car passed them on the road, and they trundled along behind it, hoping that the Dracs inside were too busy to care that there were Killjoys after them. Apparently they were, or perhaps it played off of the new fashionable thing, to come to parties dressed as terrorists- Sweet Revenge had once mentioned that he'd heard of the practice, and they were hoping that'd it'd work to their full advantage now, as they hadn't had time to get any disguises.
But finally, the van pulled up about three hundred yards away from the building that was to hold the celebration. It was a small, windowless concrete structure with a parking lot around back, the kind of bland, unassuming building that no one really noticed. It had a pair of glass double doors in the exact center of its front face, with a small sign fixed in the wall next to them that said "Outpost 9." Overall, it seemed to be the least likely place for a victory celebration since a legal firm.
Party Poison turned to Show Pony with an uncertain look on his face, clearly about to ask what Fun Ghoul was thinking: Are you sure this is the right place? But Show Pony answered the unspoken question by pointing across the road, into the parking lot and exclaiming, "See! There's your Dracs!"
Fun Ghoul could see several of the people in question getting out of the white car they'd been following, as it had just pulled up behind the outpost. They glanced at one another, adjusting their masks and crisp, white shirts, before they turned and walked around the building and through the double doors.
"All right," Party Poison said evenly. "You both know what to do. Show Pony, I'll see you later, I hope." He smiled, and the young man grinned feebly back. Party turned to address Fun Ghoul. "You know the drill, right?" He handed Fun a cell phone. "If I'm not back in half an hour, make the call."
Fun Ghoul pocketed the phone and nodded, with a sigh. There was no way he was going to agree to that, but appearing to go along with it was better than wasting the little time they had with another argument.
Party Poison climbed out of the van and Fun followed, trying his best to ignore the fact that he was no longer tired- on the contrary, he was shaking with nervous energy and worry twisted in the pit of his stomach like a snake. "Well, this is it," Party said flatly, as the van made a careful U-turn around them and sped back down Route Guano. "Good luck."
"See ya," Fun Ghoul replied. There was a short, awkward pause during which Fun desperately hoped his friend would change his mind, but then Party turned and started walking casually over to the front entrance, pulling his mask down over his eyes as he went.
Fun Ghoul blinked hard and inhaled the dusty air deeply, trying to focus. He pulled out his laser and made sure it was set to both "Silent" and "Kill," and made his way around the building, close to the wall. He peered into the parking lot and, to his dismay, saw several Dracs standing guard. Three of them were gathered around one who sat as though enthroned on the hood of a beat-up, graffiti-covered car- which was, of course, the stolen Trans-Am. The one on the hood was telling his eagerly listening comrades about how he had single-handedly defeated one of the "evildoers, that 'Jet Star' one with the stupid hair."
"And then, of course, he pulled a grenade launcher on me," the Drac was saying in a voice with a tiny trace of a British accent, twirling a gun that Fun Ghoul could see was painted midnight blue. Fun took a second to hope he accidentally shot himself in the face. "I was almost blown to bits. But I beat the fool in the end, you know. Some of his hair got in his eyes so he couldn't see, and I seized the opportunity and shot him in the head." The Dracs applauded, cheering for his bravery.
Fun Ghoul shook his head in exasperation at the blatant falsifying that the Drac was doing. He'd known they were prone to overemphasizing their victories, but this was going too far.
A jolt of rage surged through him, washing out any lingering exhaustion, as he realized the truth of his words: this was going far beyond simple exaggeration; it was shaming Jet's memory and making him out to be a cold-blooded killer, the one thing they had counted on him not to be. And that Drac was sitting there casually as he told these lies, on the stolen car, holding Jet's gun!
With a roar of fury louder than any he'd known he was capable of, Fun Ghoul leapt out from behind the wall and started shooting at the Dracs gathered around the Trans-Am. The three of them fell, looking shocked, before they even had the chance to look around. Fun turned and quickly blasted the guard stationed at the entrance to the parking lot.
He heard a loud tsow sound and instinctively jerked backwards, just in time to avoid a laser blast that could've killed him, but instead flashed past his nose in a burst of blinding white light. He whirled, gun extended, toward yet another guard and fired before he had really focused. But he still hit the Drac in the arm, making him falter and miss his second shot, which struck the wall on Fun's right and left a charred, black burn mark. Fun smirked at his opponent before taking more careful aim and creating a similar lethal mark on his adversary's chest. The Drac crumpled to the pavement.
Now Fun was alone with the Drac who had killed Jet Star. That was just the way Fun wanted it. But he was quickly forced to duck behind a parked car to avoid the surprisingly accurate lasers his adversary was shooting at him desperately. Fun crouched with his back pressed against the car and switched the setting on his gun from "Kill" to "Stun." He waited until the Drac stopped shooting for a second to see if Fun was still there, and then he whipped around and fired over the hood of the car, hitting the Drac in the stomach. His opponent keeled over in pain, which was exactly what Fun had planned.
He slipped the gun back in its holster and stood up, brushing dust off his hands. He sauntered over to the Trans-Am, stepping over the bodies as he went, and looked down at the wounded Drac, who tried to raise Jet's gun. But Fun couldn't have that, and felt another rush of anger as he pinned the Drac's arm to the hood of the car and plucked the gun from his hand. He shoved it in his other holster (the handgun that he normally kept there was back at the diner; it would make too much noise for his sneak attack) before turning back to the struggling Drac.
Fun placed one hand on either of his enemy's shoulders and pushed him back onto the hood of the car. Glaring straight into the eyeholes on the Drac's mask, Fun Ghoul snarled, "Jet Star was the only one who kept our violence in check. Without him, we would've ended up worse than the terrorists you say we are. And now that he's gone, you've just brought hell upon all your little brainwashed, fucked-up friends." He wrapped his hands around his opponent's throat. "But I'll start with you."
Fun Ghoul wrenched the Drac up into a sitting position before gripping his enemy's jaw with one hand and the back of his hair with the other. He gave a sudden, sharp twist and to his pleasant surprise, heard the Drac's neck break. He really hadn't expected that move to work, as he was simply imitating what he'd seen in action movies, but his adversary went limp and Fun dropped him to the ground. He stepped over him and went to get in the Trans-Am, but realized it was locked, which forced him to dig through the still-breathing Drac's pockets for the keys. As Fun Ghoul settled into the driver's seat of the car that was rightfully his own, he glanced around the parking lot once more.
Bodies lay sprawled on the dusty ground, two of them right in the path of the car's tires. Should I move them? Fun wondered, before recalling the fact that the rest of the Dracs inside the building had actually taken Jet Star and Kobra Kid's bodies and would, he had heard, be showing pictures of their corpses like trophies. Nah, he answered himself with an attempt at a cocky smile, and started the car.
His smirk turned instantly to a grimace when the sound of bones snapping reached his ears. He wanted to sing something in his head to distract himself, but his mind kept stubbornly conjuring up images of the last Drac's terrified brown eyes. He drove out of the lot and pulled up in front of Outpost 9 to wait for Party Poison.
There, Fun Ghoul shut off the car, leaned back against the seat, lit a cigarette, and, as all his righteous battle-rage and adrenaline drained out of him and left him half-asleep once more, simply tried very hard not to think.
Party Poison entered Outpost 9 cautiously, half expecting to find not a celebration but a shootout waiting for him. But he was all right on that front for now; the party was in full swing, and the strobe-lit dance floor was swarming with Dracs who were more than happy to relax, completely unaware of the danger the new arrival posed.
"Hi," said an amused voice nearby, making Party jump. He turned to see a Drac leaning against the wall by the door, his face hidden in shadow. Party realized, with an awkward twinge that he somehow still felt in spite of his nerves, that no one else at the party was dressed up like a Killjoy. Of course not, he thought, berating himself for this lack of foresight. It's an anti-Killjoy party, not the usual crazy rave.
Party rested his hand on the gun at his side and replied, "Hello."
The Drac continued to grin at him; he could at least make out his teeth flashing in the strobe lights, if nothing else of his face. "Nice outfit." Party wasn't sure whether to be worried that this Drac possibly recognized him as the real thing and was just playing it cool before he attacked, or to mimic his casual attitude and maybe slip away with nothing more than a couple weird glances.
His dilemma was cut short, thankfully, when Hot Chimp showed up next to him and said in irritated tones, "There you are! It's about time you got here; I was afraid I'd have to host this whole party without you!"
She went on to introduce him, under the pseudonym Michael, to the Drac, whose name was Leonard. She also helped vouch for Party's outfit: "He decided to have his own little costume party, and why not?" But she looked lasers at him out of the corner of her eye, plainly meaning, You couldn't have been a little more inconspicuous?
Leonard chuckled. "I like it. It's very ironic. I mean, it's not all that likely that a Killjoy- " he winced at the word, "- would turn up here, right?"
Party Poison checked his mocking laugh at the last minute, instead listening as Hot Chimp giggled in such a way that she very nearly sounded convincing to Party himself, before saying, "Let's hope not. On the subject of parties, Michael, you've got your own to host with me. But since you got here late, I'll just let you do some of it yourself." In response to his subtle look of fear- that meant I have no idea what the hell I'm doing!-she said, "I've got it set up already: You'll find everything you need on my laptop." She winked at him and turned to Leonard, who stayed shrouded in shadows in true "cool-guy" fashion, and the two of them began a lively conversation about how the celebration was going, leaving Party to slink off around the concrete on the outer edge of the dance floor in search of the equipment.
It wasn't that hard to find; it was directly across from the main entrance, next to an emergency fire exit. There was a small table with two folding chairs behind it, and he settled into one of them to survey the apparatus he was to use. The laptop sat next to a microphone and a small projector, both of which were off.
He turned his attention to the laptop, where he saw one of the few things that could've made him feel less nervous: iTunes, a program he actually knew how to use. With a sigh of relief, as he'd been expecting something immensely complicated or a program that required ID, he scrolled through the list of songs. When the current one- some new, irritating pop song about dance parties- mercifully ended, Party selected an older, irritating pop song about dance parties: "Blow" by Ke$ha. It was worse than he remembered, but he tried not to laugh too much about the truth behind the words; how this place was about to blow. In twenty minutes, if Fun Ghoul kept his word, the three of them would be as far from the outpost as they could get while still being able to see the explosion; Party Poison, at least, didn't want to go to all this trouble and not even get to witness the destruction they'd cause.
Hot Chimp returned in the middle of the song, staring at him questioningly. "Ke$ha? Really?" she said, disgust plain on her face.
"Hey, at least the lyrics make sense," he pointed out, and she laughed. (She sounded and looked so familiar; he could almost feel the memories just out of reach at the back of his mind: He knew that he knew her from somewhere, but where?) "And you did leave me to host this thing on my own, so you're not allowed to complain about my choice of music."
She smirked at him, pulling off her gloves as she sat down, and moved the laptop over so it rested between them. That was when Party noticed a thin, gold band on her third finger, illuminated by the glow of the monitor and the colorful lights on the dance floor. How many Dracs wore jewelry, especially something with as much emotional value as a wedding ring?
That thought in his head combined with her voice in his ears and reached back through over a decade, finally coming up with the memory he needed: twelve years ago, when he'd met his fiancée backstage at a concert and slipped a ring on her finger- this ring.
Party looked up at Hot Chimp, into her face, and wondered how he could've failed to recognize his own wife. She had aged, of course, and six years in the desert spent falsifying every detail of her existence to the Dracs had given her a beaten, weary look. But even with her new, bleached-blonde hair and a pair of made-up names, she was still Lindsey Way.
"Sorry I left you," she was saying, and he tried to concentrate as his mind swirled with the epiphany. "But I had to trick Leonard into leaving his post so I could seal the front doors shut. He decided to go outside for a smoke, so I ended up locking him out." She giggled. "We can run out the back when the time comes."
Party Poison nodded, not really listening. "Blow" ended shortly after, and Lindsey/Hot Chimp bent over the laptop. She chose "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People, clearly continuing their unspoken theme of not-so-subtly violent dance music.
They spent the next ten minutes chatting about the next part of Party Poison's plan; Hot Chimp smiled when he informed her that he had forbidden any of the other Killjoys to come in. "You're so reckless," she chuckled, not bothering to chastise him; it was too late for that now, anyway. She informed him of the fact that there were several Dracs who had been appointed "designated drivers" and who were also on guard duty. "But it shouldn't be too hard to get out before they notice us. I mean, we can just sneak out the fire exit, right?"
"Um…" He wasn't really sure, now, that this was such a good plan. "Well, I kind of wanted to make a short little speech about how they killed my friends and I came back for vengeance, and this is what happens when you cross us, and all that. But we could just leave. I mean, it's not like they'll know the difference, 'cause they'll be dead and all." As he said it, Party knew that he'd rather do that instead of the firefight he'd had in mind. Why on Earth would he want to take such a foolish risk? He still hadn't gotten the nerve to tell Hot Chimp that he knew who she was; it was definitely not the right time for such a confession, but he also didn't want to die having just found his wife after so long. And getting Hot Chimp killed to save his life was out of the question.
"I don't know," she began thoughtfully. "Maybe a speech wouldn't be a bad idea. At least then they'll know what's going on, rather than just getting blown up for no reason." She grinned. "And I think I'd like to tell them that I was never a Drac to begin with."
"Okay," Party agreed, feeling glad that he had come up with something to say to his targets ahead of time.
"So," Hot Chimp glanced at the clock. "We've got about five minutes before the detonation. We should probably break the news now."
She switched on the microphone as the last song, "Just Dance," ended and announced to the room in a conversational manner, "Hey everyone, it's Andrea. I hope you've been enjoying this party so far; I know I have!" She shot a glance at Party and rolled her eyes in disgust at the lies she would soon rid herself of. "So we have one last song for you all, but before that, we each wanna say something to everybody. I'll start with this: I hate BLI. Always have. In fact, I've secretly been a Killjoy the whole time!" She finished her proclamation by pulling out her laser gun and holding it, relaxed, at her side.
Party Poison looked around and saw that all the Dracs were laughing. He had barely wondered why before his mind came up with the obvious answer: they all thought Hot Chimp was joking. So he leaned in to the microphone to set them straight.
"No, this is not some kind of elaborate prank. Yes, there really are Killjoys here, and I'm one of them." He pulled out his gun. "Also, we've planted several explosive devices around this outpost- " He glanced at his wife as if to say, You did that, right? and she nodded, "- which will detonate in about four minutes. In other words, you're all gonna die. I hope you know that you're getting exactly what you deserve, because you were the ones, or some of you at least, who helped dust- that is, murder- both my brother and my friend. Let this be a lesson to you motherfuckers: This is what we do to people who try to tear us apart. Unfortunately, we don't go down quite so easily. That is all," he concluded, waiting to see how the Dracs would react to this.
The room had gone silent as the eyes of a hundred enemies widened in fear. Apparently, they believed the announcements now. There were a few seconds of tension during which no one moved, then pandemonium erupted.
The vast majority of the partygoers were trying to get to the doors, which, thanks to Hot Chimp, no longer worked. But about twenty Dracs were approaching their table, some from the corners of the outpost, a few from the table of refreshments they'd been milling around, and one fought his way through the crowd around the doors. Party brandished his laser at the closest guard, but Hot Chimp was clicking something on her computer.
"Battle music," she explained, returning to his side with an excited smile. The speakers started blasting "Death Before Disco" (it took him a second to recognize it, as there was some lady speaking in Japanese in the intro; he was sure that hadn't been in the original) and the two of them, fighting back-to-back, blasted laser beams at the guards foolish enough to try and stop them.
The battle didn't last as long as he'd expected, however. After dodging a few shots and firing a few of his own, Party felt a brief shiver of fear when he realized Hot Chimp was no longer behind him, but that was quelled as the fire exit opened and he turned to see her holding the door and looking expectantly at him. He ran out and she followed, closing the door on the guards before tweaking a setting on her gun and reaching up to shoot the hinges. Party Poison watched, not sure of what she was up to, but as she knelt by the bottom hinges, he saw that the ones on top had been melted and were quickly solidifying into a twisted, useless hunk of smoldering metal.
Hot Chimp stood and turned to the parking lot, only to stop and look, shocked, at the scene before her. "What happened here?"
Party glanced around and saw one of the most gruesome battlefields he'd ever laid eyes on: the scorched bodies of six Dracs lay around the lot, with four of them grouped close together in front of an empty parking space. Two of those were crushed and bleeding, and one's neck was bent at an unnatural angle. Party shook his head, smiling for some reason he did not understand. "Fun Ghoul happened."
Hot Chimp skirted the parking lot casually but quickly, and pulled a set of keys from her pocket. She snatched a helmet off a Drac motorbike, and Party was struck with a sudden sense of sadness as he watched her mount the bike and prepare to leave. He couldn't just let her go away; couldn't let himself lose her again. So he walked to the end of the nearest parking space, directly across from her, and called, "Lindsey! I love you!"
She stared at him blankly, or at least, he assumed it was a blank stare; he couldn't see through the visor on her helmet. Then his wife started the bike, revved the engine, and sped out without looking back, leaving Party Poison standing in a cloud of dust and loneliness, gazing after her.
Fun Ghoul twitched and sat up straighter when Party Poison walked around the outpost and approached the Trans-Am slowly. For the previous half hour, he had been waiting in a nervous, tired haze, which was broken only by a few adrenaline-charged seconds when a Drac had sped past the car on a motorcycle and he had debated whether to attack it, but it hadn't seemed hostile and in the time it took him to consider this, the Drac was gone in a rush of engine noise. He'd seen Hot Chimp leaving about half a minute ago, and figured that Party couldn't be far behind. Something like relief worked its way into Fun's mind as his friend climbed in the passenger side of the car, slumping back on the seat in weariness. Fun started the car but only drove a few hundred yards from Outpost 9 before he stopped and the two got back out with the car idling between them. They could still faintly hear the music emanating from the building.
"Would you like to do the honors?" Fun asked, removing the cell phone from a pocket. He sincerely hoped that Party would say yes; while he looked forward to seeing the explosive power of the bombs he had worked so hard on, he wasn't sure how many more deaths he wanted to cause. Surely the bodies he'd left behind and the dried blood on the wheels of the car were enough for one night?
Fun chucked the phone over the roof, and Party caught it easily. "All right," he said. But he appeared to hesitate, cradling the phone gently as though it were a deadly weapon in and of itself; a second later, Fun realized he was listening to the music. Party timed it carefully, pressing the "Send" key right on the last note of the song.
The effect was, naturally, positively lethal. There was an audible sound of several detonations in rapid succession, and then the doors were blown off either side of the building along with bursts of fire. The hollow shell of a structure trembled for a few seconds before the entire roof collapsed inwards, dragging part of the walls with it. They landed in a heap of rubble, concrete dust, and ashes.
It was the best set of explosives Fun Ghoul had ever created, and a tiny part of him hated himself for it.
They stared, mesmerized, at the ruins for a few seconds, and then Fun said, "Thank God Jet Star didn't have to see that."
"Kobra would've enjoyed it," Party pointed out.
"Yeah."
The two Killjoys got back in the Trans-Am and began the return journey down the long, darkening stretch of road. They were quiet for a while, both deep in thought.
Party Poison broke the silence with an abrupt question that sounded almost bored. "Fun Ghoul, are we terrorists?"
Fun glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Party remained motionless, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"Why do you ask?" Fun tried to buy some time, thrown by the bluntness of what he thought of as an obvious question to answer. They were definitely not terrorists!
"Well, the fact that we just brutally murdered all those innocent people kinda makes me doubt the strength of our morality," Party replied, still sounding uninterested.
Fun snorted. "They weren't innocent. Everybody in there was totally on BLI's side; some of them were willing to kill, that's how loyal they were. They deserved it."
"Okay." He paused, apparently satisfied, then asked, "But do you suppose Jet Star would've wanted us to avenge him by killing even more people?"
Fun Ghoul couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice as he said, "Look, we did what we had to do. Regardless of what Jet would've said about how wrong it was, we both know those Dracs needed to die. It would've been even more wrong to let them keep living the way they were, celebrating our friends' deaths and slandering their memories."
His comeback was impressive enough to cause Party Poison to recede into silence once more; Fun just wished that he'd felt an ounce of the conviction he'd put into those words.
The cold, black road slipped past as they traveled further into the night.
When the two arrived at the diner, it was to find their friends waiting for them anxiously. Show Pony, Dr. Death Defying, and the Girl cheered as they walked in, and then crowded eagerly around them, demanding to hear the details of what happened.
"How big was the explosion?"
"Did you get in a fight with any Dracs?"
"Is Hot Chimp okay?" (Party's frown deepened at this.)
"Are you okay?"
Fun Ghoul answered each inquiry with a few words as possible: Everyone was fine, of course they got into a fight with the Dracs, and the explosion was big enough to crumble the building. "If you want a retelling of the raid, you're gonna have to wait 'til morning. We're beat."
"Ooh, wait, just one more thing before you go to bed," Show Pony said.
"What?" His comrade's enthusiasm, normally very uplifting, now merely annoyed Fun Ghoul.
"We decided to rename a song to honor recent events," Dr. Death announced. "So it's not called 'Death Before Disco' anymore."
"We called it 'Party Poison' after you!" The Girl beamed at the eponymous Killjoy.
"Great," he replied, and his voice was emptier than the scorched foundation of Outpost 9 had been as he went off to the back room, tears not daring to form in his shell-shocked, exhausted eyes.
Why, Party wondered before he fell asleep, is it only when you're ready to die that you end up bulletproof?