"Pink isn't well; he stayed back at the hotel, and they sent us along as a surrogate band." ~Pink Floyd, "In The Flesh"
The noon sun shone down harshly on the Trans-Am as it sped across the desert, approaching the place where its occupants' fates would be decided. Despite the painful anticipation each of them felt, they were mostly eager to get this over with (even in such an awfully clichéd way), and the tension was somewhat mitigated by the extra protection they carried- even Grace, sitting on Hot Chimp's lap like a toddler, had Fun Ghoul's revolver, which she had decorated in unicorn stickers.
Party Poison stopped the car as a small band of Dracs came into view, their car parked behind them, and, sure enough, Korse was there as well. He looked over at them with a cocky smile as they all got out and lined up. Party had to admit that his side didn't look very formidable, but he knew the Dracs would remember their past attacks; indeed, he was pleased to see that Korse's grin lost a bit of luster as he took in the fact that all his opponents were well-armed. If only he knew how many weapons they really carried- but that was Fun Ghoul's mastery: you couldn't tell what you were up against until it pulled sixteen knives out of its back pocket and stabbed you in the ribcage.
The Dracs had lined up as well, about twenty feet from the Killjoys, and each had brought at least one laser blaster, except for the one next to Korse, who carried a large black box. When Korse and Party stepped forward, the Drac walked between them and opened it. Inside were several types of weapons: lasers, knives, even some old-fashioned pistols.
Korse smirked even more. If Party hadn't known that to be his usual expression, he would've thought that his adversary was in danger of tearing a face muscle. "Pick your poison, Killjoy," Korse spat.
Party thought his enemy's eyes lingered on the guns, and in an attempt to not play into his hands, he reached into the box and selected a dagger with a wicked-looking six-inch blade. "Always wanted to shank you," he taunted, and predictably, Korse simply shook his head in exasperation.
"I hope your fighting's better than your music, or this'll be far too easy," he retorted, picking up a matching knife, and the Drac returned to the line with his fellows, all of whom were looking incredibly tense. Their leader might be too arrogant to acknowledge the threat posed by the Killjoys, but the Dracs were clearly a little more uncertain. This, and the leftover adrenaline from the sheer badassery of their battle song "Destroyah" (with an epically shiny bassline, courtesy of his wife's tendency to get more and more fantastic every day, and a pounding guitar riff that was still ringing in his ears), filled Party with sudden confidence. He was absolutely going to stab the bastard who had killed his brother, regardless of any wounds he might sustain in the process, or the fact that he was still woefully unskilled at knife fights.
They squared off, and spent the first few seconds just circling like a pair of vultures, testing for a weak point. Party, who had never enjoyed suspense, finally dashed forward and slashed at Korse's arm, and he dodged with ease, aiming a blow at Party's back, but he had expected that, and brought up his knife to parry. It didn't work as he had hoped: the blades struck together, glanced off, and Party winced as Korse's knife cut a little skin off his knuckles. He smiled after he straightened up and faced him again, when he saw that blood was trickling from his opponent's hand where he'd been hit in the palm.
Somebody on the sidelines gasped, Show Pony called, "All right! Get him!" and Korse charged forward with his blade pointed right at Party's face. The Killjoy ducked, slashed at Korse's side but missed, and staggered as Korse punched him in the ribs, hard. He backed up, pressing a hand to the spot, as Korse instantly spun back around and came at him again, this time aiming for his stomach. Party jumped aside, jerked his dagger wildly at his enemy's arm for good measure, and quickly brought his left fist up into Korse's face. His head snapped back, but he kept his footing and tried to hit Party in the ribs again, but Party had seen that coming; he brought his knife around and sliced into Korse's arm. They stepped back a second time, panting.
As they surveyed each other- Party had a few scratches and his side ached, but Korse was definitely in worse shape, with blood dripping from both arms and a nasty swelling starting in his face- the Drac who had carried the box called out, "It doesn't matter if you win, Korse."
His leader paid no attention, wisely keeping his guard up as Party continued to stare him down, but the Drac continued, "You'll just die anyway, especially since I didn't fill your oxygen tank this morning!"
Korse didn't react immediately, but his entourage did that for him: the other Dracs simultaneously whipped out their guns and trained them on the Drac who had spoken. He calmly reached up and removed his mask, and- Shit, seriously? Party thought- revealed himself to be Sweet Revenge.
The other Killjoys trained their weapons on him a split second later, and Korse turned to the man he knew as Leonard and snarled, "What do you mean, you didn't fill it?"
Sweet Revenge still smiled contentedly, as though he were relaxing in a sauna and not about to be shot from every conceivable angle. "I mean that even if you win- which you won't; Fun's probably taught Party too well for you to defeat him- you'll still get some awfully bad diseases from this air, and if those don't kill you, I will." He glanced down at the box of weapons at his feet. "Bad move, you know, giving a traitor your guns."
Before Sweet Revenge could even start to bend down to the box, Korse had pulled a blaster from inside his coat and fired. Grace screamed, and Hot Chimp made a halfhearted attempt to cover the girl's eyes. As the Killjoy Party had once thought of as his friend collapsed onto the sand, something registered in Party's brain: Korse's gun was bright red, and the only person he knew with a blaster that color was Kobra Kid.
So he has the nerve to use my own brother's gun in a fight? The words flashed through Party's mind along with intense rage, and he stopped caring about the fact that Korse now had two weapons and he only had a knife; he charged forward and slammed into Korse from the side, knocking them both into the dust.
He meant to stab his enemy as quickly as possible, but he had obviously not figured that Korse would be fast enough to both block the blow aimed at his head and to drive the hand with which he held Kobra's gun into Party's gut, throwing him off. In an instant, Korse had flipped him onto his back and had a knee pressed into his ribcage. He raised the dagger up to get leverage for the final strike-
- and a voice from above spoke and said "No." A shining silver blade pressed into Korse's neck. He glanced up, and, on seeing who was holding him at sword point, sighed, put down the dagger, and climbed off Party Poison, brushing sand off his jacket.
Party stood up shakily and looked into the face of a woman he had never met personally but had heard a great deal about: Airi Isoda, the head of BLI's security. She was a slight, almost frail-looking Japanese woman who carried an air of power about her that made her seem formidable in spite of her appearance. This was only magnified by the fact that she was currently holding the hilt of a sword that was digging into Korse's throat.
"What on Earth are you doing, Airi?" Korse snarled as he stood up, only to find that her blade remained inches from his windpipe.
Though all the Dracs now had their guns trained on her, Airi did not flinch. She narrowed her eyes and replied, "Someone had to stop you. You just broke the rules of the duel."
Korse blinked in confusion, before saying, "What rules?"
"The rules that state that each participant is to use only one weapon," she said, glancing down at the laser gun Korse still clutched.
"That was never a rule! I wrote the rules, and that wasn't one of them!" Korse spluttered desperately, eyes widening in fear.
He tried to turn around to face her, but Airi put a hand on his shoulder to hold him still and continued, as though enjoying this, "The duel was supposed to be an even match between you and the Killjoy, each with identical weapons. In bringing a second, you undermined the fairness and thus broke the rules."
Party resisted the urge to yell, "Damn right!" and instead smiled tentatively as he watched the argument between Korse and his underling.
"They had extra weapons too!" Korse snapped. "I guarantee you he's got a gun of his own."
"He probably has, but he didn't use it," Airi replied. "He didn't fire it in the middle of the duel."
Korse continued to splutter, mouthing something that looked like a mix of counterarguments and swear words.
"Therefore, according to the unwritten rule of guaranteed fairness that binds all duels, you cheated and so forfeit. The Killjoys win."
All the Killjoys burst into cheers at this as the ones on the sidelines ran forward and hugged Party and each other and themselves. But in the center of the circle, the talk continued.
"According to the rules of the duel that you did write, 'the winner will decide the fate of any reinforcements brought by the other side.'" Airi recited, releasing Korse's shoulder and dropping the katana blade from his neck. She turned to Party. "What'll it be then?"
"Uh," Party replied intelligently. He hadn't been expecting that any of this would go the way it had, and was at a loss for words.
"We want Sweet Revenge's body," Fun Ghoul said. "We'll give him a proper send-off."
"But he shot you!" protested Show Pony.
"He just died for us, in case you hadn't noticed," Fun replied grimly. "He deserves a Killjoy's funeral." That settled it.
"The rest of the Dracs are free to go wherever, then," Party said, finding his voice. "We don't have any issues with them, unless they attack us, of course." He amended with a sharp look at the Dracs. They all looked relieved to be spared, however, and it seemed revenge was the last thing on their minds.
Party glared at Korse, tightening his grip on his knife. "And as for you…"
"Don't get ahead of yourself, now, little Killjoy," Korse said quietly. He seemed to have regained some of his poise now that he wasn't in immediate danger of dying. "The rules only said you could decide what happens to the reinforcements, not your opponent. You have no jurisdiction over my fate." He smirked at his own intelligence, though not as widely as before, and turned to walk back to his car, the Dracs following behind.
"Wow," Show Pony remarked. "That was a nice use of loopholes for such a stupid motherfucker." This was greeted with some chuckles from the group, but Party didn't laugh along with them.
So that's it, then, he thought dully, the dagger slipping from his hand and dropping into the dust. All that work and planning and I didn't even get Kobra's gun back…
He jumped a little when he saw that Airi was coming back towards them, holding a laser blaster. As she got closer, he could see that it was the very same gun that weighed heavy on his thoughts. She held it up, and they all flinched, except Hot Chimp, who for some reason was smiling.
"Here," Airi said curtly, turning the gun around and offering it to Party Poison. "Korse has no use for this Zonerat garbage."
He took it, but its too-familiar shape and dusty red paint only impressed upon him how much he missed Kobra; he knew his brother would never have let their greatest enemy just walk off like that.
Airi reached into her pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope, which Party took and stared at blankly. "It's a list of the outpost locations, as per the deal."
He nodded, dimly acknowledging the fact that all these would be good for was starting a fire if they were stranded in the surprisingly cold desert night.
Airi leaned in even closer and whispered, "Don't worry; I'll be happy to help finish him off. And so you don't end up like him, remember: if the air starts to smell like limeade, evacuate immediately." She winked and walked away.
Party couldn't stop his mouth from falling open in shock as he registered where that phrase had come from, how the only person to say anything like it had- he thought- been killed ages ago…
Dr. Death Defying was having a similar reaction. He stared after her for a second, then managed to choke out, "News…?"
Hot Chimp elbowed them both to shut them up, but the grin on her face (the kind he hadn't seen since 2011, when they were working on the fourth album and everything was alright) told him that he had one less Killjoy to mourn.
And if he had anything to say about it, her help wouldn't go to waste. If they couldn't use the outposts, they'd at least broadcast their locations to let other Killjoys know where to avoid or what to attack, if they wanted. If she was really about to finish Korse off, he was glad he'd gotten a couple nice slashes at the bastard before he went down, and the look on his face when he'd heard that the Killjoys had won!
Party realized that the best revenge, though, would be the total defeat of BLI.
The Killjoys blasted "Destroyah" the whole way back.