Chapter Five

Dead!…?

Dead. I'm dead.

It was the first and only thought that crossed Ghoul's mind as he slowly became aware he, in fact, wasn't dead. After everything that had happened, it seemed impossible he could still be breathing, that he could still feel his heart beating his chest, speeding up as his mind continued to race. The others—?

He groaned, forced his eyes opened, blinked twice, and saw a figure lean over him, a bright ceiling light peering around its shoulders and causing him to wince and his vision to remain as blurred as it was. He immediately believed it was a Drac, or worse, and he weakly raised his arms, ready to fight it to the best of his ability.

"Whoa, Ghoul!"

Ghoul felt hands pinning him down, the fog he was looking through finally clearing enough to see the figure was Jet, worriedly looking down at him.

"Damn, sorry…" Ghoul murmured, and Jet released him as he sat up, looking around. He, Jet, and Kobra, who was over to the side, sitting silently with his back against the wall, were in an utterly bare, very warm room, about the size of the smallest backroom of the diner. The walls were almost blindingly white, there were no windows, and at first it seemed like no door, either; it blended in perfectly with the other parts of the room, only able to be told apart from the rest of the nothingness by the silvery door knob.

Ghoul got to his feet.

"Don't bother; it's locked from the outside." Jet said.

"Where's Party?" Ghoul asked quietly, feeling for his gun, only to find his entire holster gone, glancing at the others and seeing theirs were missing as well.

"Wish we knew." Kobra muttered, not moving. His expression was blank, but he was obviously extremely distressed after what he had witnessed—ten feet from him—and what he'd been unable to stop.

"If we weren't killed, I don't think he would be, either," Jet tried, though of course couldn't blame him for fearing for his brother's life. Ghoul had turned a bit pale at the words, though, and he, along with them, desperately wished they knew the leader's current condition.

"It sure looked like it," Kobra replied softly, and then shook his head, lowering it onto his knees as he tucked them to his chest. He silently gasped and clenched his teeth at the sheer agony that came from him moving his ankle, but he made no sound; he must have twisted it or something when he'd gotten shot before. He refused to complain about it, however, especially not when they were in such a situation; they had more important things to be worried about.

Ghoul looked at Jet again. "Has anyone come in?"

He shook his head. "Not since we've been up."

Ghoul sighed and leaned against the wall, feeling very strange, almost sick to his stomach. "Did Missile Kid get away?"

Jet hesitated for a moment. "I think so." he replied, then lowered his voice slightly, almost nervously. "I saw the van, with Dr. D and some others, but…" he shrugged. "I don't remember seeing her get in."

"She had to of," Ghoul said, frowning. "They wouldn't have left her there."

"They left us here," Kobra muttered, and then his entire body tensed, like he regretted saying it out loud.

Jet glanced at him. "Yeah, Kid—because they think we're dead. Missile—oh, God, she saw us get shot, right in front of her." He leaned against the wall, and then looked away as the blonde flinched at the words. "Sorry."

Kobra shrugged, so slightly it was virtually impossible to see. It's my fault, anyway. He squeezed his eyes shut; he'd been screwing around out there, during the fight, not paying attention as well as he could have.

I could have stopped it. I could have stopped him. But no—I shot him after, after it didn't count anymore.

He shook his head, realizing the only thing he could do was hope his brother was still alive. What Jet had said made sense; he didn't know of a reason Korse would kill one of them but leave the rest.

He unknowingly ran a hand over his cheek, realizing after a moment he'd been wiping away the tears he hadn't felt falling, unable to help wonder that, with whatever the man had planned for them…would it simply have been better off they all had died?

No, don't think like that, he told himself, and then reached down to place a hand around his throbbing ankle, like he expected that to do something for the pain, but it didn't. And the thoughts continued to replay in his head, no matter how much he wished them to go away.

Please let this just be a dream…

Missile Kid stepped out of the van as it arrived at Dr. D's place, not even hearing Show Pony, who'd been in the passenger seat, or the driver, who'd introduced herself as DJ Hot Chimp, as they called to her.

She'd been in an absolute daze the entire drive back, still not able to shake it now. The Killjoys she'd been accepted by so quickly, the ones everyone looked up to, the only people other than her brother and mother she'd felt had cared for her in her entire life…were gone. Dead. Never to be seen again.

"Missile!"

The ten-year-old finally heard Dr. D, and she turned to him as he wheeled over to her. "Kid," he continued, "it wasn't your fault..."

"They're still gone. Doesn't matter if it was or not."

All four's hearts were already aching from the loss of the others, but the little girl was breaking them.

"There was nothing you could have done!" Show Pony pointed out, and Missile kicked a rock, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Exactly."

"Please don't beat yourself up," DJ frowned

"I'm not, I just…wish they were…" She shut her mouth as her voice cracked and her throat burned, trying not to cry again. She took a breath, exhaled slowly, and then looked up at them. "I want to help take them down. As soon as we can."

"Sweetie," DJ began sadly, "we don't have enough people right now—"

"Then let's get more!" Missile interrupted. "We can go find more Killjoys! We can get all of them together and finally destroy that place."

"That's a lot more difficult than it sounds…" Dr. D said, his gaze only half on her, just as in shock from the events as the others were.

"Why?"

"Well, for one, Killjoys move around all the time. And even if—"

"Use your station!" Missile offered, and the Doc sighed. "I can't—after I contacted the guys, it stopped working all together. The Dracs really did a number on my whole place." He paused, thinking. "The radio the four were using was fine. Do you remember where you stayed that night?"

Missile thought for a moment. "Yeah, kind of."

"Then we can try to use theirs." Dr. D said, and turned. "We'll search in the morning."

"Why not now?"

"It's dark, Kid. It'll be impossible to find the place tonight. And we're all...after..." he trailed off. "Not tonight. BLI isn't going anywhere."

Missile sighed, knowing he was right. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms and looking at them seriously. In fact, she'd never been so serious about anything in her entire life. "But tomorrow."

"Not every Killjoy has a radio." DJ pointed out. "And not everyone who does is willing to risk their lives in a huge fight just yet. Especially after they hear about what's happened..."

"We can always try." Missile said, thinking of what Party had told her before about her brother and feeling another pang of dejection.

DJ smiled sadly. "We always can. And we will."

Several sharp, stinging slaps across his already smarting face was what brought Party back from a seemingly endless black void, though he could not bring himself to open his eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep—to escape the awful pain in both his head and chin.

He groaned softly and shifted a bit, drifting off again, until the coldest water he had ever felt in his entire life suddenly poured onto him, soaking him instantly and causing him to jerk upright in shock, crying out when his breath returned to him a moment later, his eyes wide and frantic.

"Oh good, you're up."

Korse's voice echoed in his ears, distorted, and he blinked up at the BLI agent, his vision clearing to see him smirk, setting a white, plastic bucket down.

"I was getting a little impatient."

"Fuck you!" Poison cursed, moving his arm to swing at him, only to find both of his wrists were tied tightly to the arm rests of the chair he just then realized he was in, his ankles to the legs. His eyes widened, staring down at himself, disoriented. "What—?"

Korse, instead, was the one who struck him, and Poison held back a groan of pain.

"Watch your lip," the man growled, and then turned, taking a step away from the chair. Poison winced and glanced around the plain, empty, small room, and only then did his memory come back. The fight, being shot—what the hell was he doing here, alive? And if he was still breathing, then did that mean...?

"Where are the others?" he demanded, almost afraid of the answer.

Korse did not reply for a moment, then; "They are alive, as are you. For now." He hadn't even a need to look at the boy's expression to know he was confused, and he chuckled. "You were merely hit with a stun gun, both times; new for us, as we usually want to fully kill you pathetic things." He smirked. "We did make sure, however, it felt like a real shot…"

Party opened his mouth to retort, but instead shuddered from the cold; the room felt like it was a freezer.

"You will cooperate, or I will enjoy actually killing them."

"What do you mean, 'cooperate'? I'm not joining BLI, if that's what you crazy son of a bitches think—"

Another slap cut him off, so fast the Killjoy had not even seen him turn around. "Shut up."

"Go fuck yourself!" Poison snapped defiantly, and Korse resisted the urge to knock the entire chair over. He struck the boy several times more, a hand up even after he stopped in case he spoke again.

Poison lifted his head after a moment. "Done yet?" he asked tauntingly, refusing to show the man was causing him pain.

Korse smirked again, gave him another harsh blow, and then replied, "Oh, no, boy; I've only just begun." He watched another shiver run through the Killjoy as he struggled to recover. "It's quite hot in here, don't you think?"

Poison did not reply, his eyes on the agent as he walked over to the wall and tapped on the little pad near the door. The A.C. immediately came on, directly above Party, though he still showed no emotion.

"That's better, hmm?" Korse chuckled. "Now, I'm going to ask you a question, and you will answer it truthfully."

Poison couldn't help but smile mockingly. The guy was out of his Goddamn mind if he believed that's how things were going to go.

Korse glared. "Where are the other Killjoys?"

"Why did you take the girl?"

The agent slapped him. "You don't ask here."

"Why did you take her? Did you really care about her? Or just—" he paused and clenched his teeth as another shudder racked him. "Or you wanted us to come to you?"

"That was correct." Korse scowled. "Until I discovered who she was. She will be found again. She is still young, and her father wishes to allow her to live a normal life. Hopefully she will come willingly, or—"

"Fucking leave her out of this!" Party exclaimed, yanking on his restraints. "You touch her, and I swear I'll—"

Korse wheeled back and struck him across the side of his head before he could finish, so hard a bright light flashed, and he almost lost consciousness.

"You cannot make threats in your position, Gerard."

"Damn it, don't call me that!"

"Your name is Gerard Way." Korse said. Might as well start somewhere.

"Fuck no it's not! Not anymore!" Poison grunted as the man hit him again. "Stop it, asshole!"

Korse only smacked him yet again, and the Killjoy felt blood trickle down from his lower lip, finally silencing himself with a wince.

"Party Poison does not exist." Korse said, monotone. "Understand?"

The red head violently shook, from either the cold or anger or some mixture of both, and when he looked up again, his eyes had only gotten brighter. "You know what I understand?" he countered, smirking. "We're going to kill you—and everyone else at BLI. This whole fucking place is gonna go down. Do you understand?"

Party blinked and raised his head, confused until he realized he'd blacked out for a moment or two as the man had whacked him again. The agent noticed, but honestly couldn't have cared less, pausing until he was sure the red head could hear him again. "You can't possibly believe you have a chance anymore, Way. It was very clear to the others you four were dead, so no one is coming to rescue you. And there are hundreds of guards on this floor alone, so you haven't a hope of escaping yourself."

"We don't need to," Party said slowly, still dazed and almost literally seeing stars. "The others will take you out themselves."

"Really?" Korse mocked. "You think there are enough of you rebels to overtake this entire building, or even stand a chance in doing so?"

"Yeah. And they will."

"No. They won't. Your luck's run out, boy."

"So has yours," Poison snapped, anger giving him a bit of his energy back. "You're gonna fucking get it. I'll make sure of that."

"Making threats again, hmm?" Korse struck him, and it took all the strength he had not to groan in pain. "Have you forgotten I also have your three allies? That I have the power to get rid of them if you irritate me enough?"

"If you touch them—" Poison growled, but cut off and flinched Korse hit him again, unable to stop himself from giving a soft moan this time.

Satisfied he'd finally gotten a reaction, Korse smirked. "I won't have to. I will call someone with a real gun, and they will be off of my list of problems immediately. I might even make you watch."

"Don't," Poison said softly, the thought horrifying, and Korse glared. "Then tell me what I want to know!"

"I don't even know what you're asking!"

Korse scowled. "You know exactly what I want."

"What, to kill all of us? That's pretty fucking clear!"

The agent struck him yet again, much harder than he'd meant to, and then waited for him to raise his head, rolling his eyes as all the Killjoy did was give what sounded like a very quiet whimper, barely conscious.

Korse turned around, looked at his watch, and then sighed. Obviously they weren't going to get anywhere right now, and he had things to do. "All right, Way. I'll give you the night to think about it." He walked over to the door, opening it to call in two Dracs.

"Do not allow him to fall asleep." Korse ordered as they entered, smirking. "He needs all the time I'm giving him to think."

The Dracs nodded simultaneously, and Korse glanced back at the weary Killjoy, who had finally managed to look up. "Good night, Gerard," he called sardonically, enjoying the glare of utter hatred he got from the boy as he continued on out of the room, reaching back and downing the temperature a degree lower. Then, his smile increasing, he shut the door behind him.

We'll see how defiant he is tomorrow…

Missile stared ahead of her as she, Dr. D, DJ, and Show Pony halted at the edge of the small campsite she and the others had stayed at two nights before. The fire pit had, of course, long since died out, and she stepped up to the edge of it, shaking her head and trying to focus on what they had come to get, pushing the sadness back.

"I found it," DJ called, and they went over to her kneeled form as she tapped the top of the Killjoy's radio gently with her hand.

Dr. D parked his scooter and reached down to grab it, placing it on his lap, regarding it sadly for a moment, for more reasons than one. Would this really work? The radio had been only used by the four to contact the Doc—would it be able to project him to the radio of all the other Killjoys?

With a hopeful sigh, Dr. D twisted the knob several times to set it and slowly brought the phone to his ear. "…Callin' all Killjoys…"

The three beside him immediately turned around, their attention back to the van.

Missile shot off with sudden energy she hadn't been aware she had, reaching the vehicle within seconds and shouting, "Say something else!"

Dr. D instead coughed, and yet she still vaguely heard it on the van's radio. Thank you… "It works!"

DJ punched the air slightly, as thrilled as she could be after what had happened. "Yes!" she hissed, and Pony gave a soft laugh of relief.

Dr. D shook his head, smiled, and then, with a much louder, much more confident voice, began again. "Callin' all Killjoys out in the Zones! We've got a situation we'd like some back up for…"

Missile sighed and leaned back in the seat as the Doc continued to explain, leaving out exactly who had been killed by BLI but unknowingly giving out subtle hints that it had been the four.

Or maybe, she thought, that's because I know. Because I was there. She understood however why he would not want to immediately reveal the people all the Killjoys looked up to were in fact the "four to be dearly missed."

No. No, BLI had gone too far this time, at least for her, though she knew the feeling of anger was shared. First her brother, whom she still was not sure was alive or not, then her, and then this...

They'll pay. She scowled, furious. In actuality, that wasn't even the word to describe what she felt. If she could have, she would currently have had enough energy and anger to take out the headquarters herself.

As Dr. D finished the transmission, she stepped out and went over to the three.

"Well," the Doc sighed. "That's done. Now we just have to wait to see if anyone heard it."

"There have to be some Killjoys that still have radios," Pony said.

"I just hope they work well enough that they got it." the Doc sighed.

DJ nodded, and then frowned as Missile bent down further away from them and picked a paper up. She stared at it for a moment and then shook the sand off, folding and placing it in her pocket before they could see what it was, starting off into the grassy area beside them.

"What're you doing?" Dr. D called, concerned until she turned back, a smile of determination on her face.

"I'm going to find my gun."