Chapter Six

Process The Progress

He couldn't stop shaking.

It wasn't exactly surprising, considering the method the two Dracs had started off with to keep him awake had been dumping more water on him. They'd instead resorted to simply smacking him whenever he closed his eyes, either because they finally realized soaking him continuously was only causing his exhaustion to increase, or had just gotten tired of leaving to fill the bucket Korse had left.

Party Poison winced as he was slapped again, raising his head and forcing his eyes open. The figures in front of him went in and out of focus, making him dizzy, and he couldn't help but groan. He hadn't slept—other than being stunned for an hour or two twice, which did nothing but make him more tired when he awoke—since the morning Missile had woken up. That'd been what, almost three days ago? And this particular night honestly felt as if it were never going to end. He was permanently stuck in an utterly silent, freezing cold hell, and even when day came—which he'd never know about, as there were no windows—he'd still be tied to the same chair, only it would be Korse interrogating him instead of the Dracs keeping watch.

A strong shudder racked him, and he groaned again. He was so cold! His clothes—though thankfully not as wet as they once had been—still clung to him tightly, continuing to suck any heat he'd once had in his body away and preventing it from coming back. He, more than once, had almost wished he could just submit and give Korse what he wanted so he would release him, or at least warm the room up.

No, he told himself sternly, irritated at how selfish that was; don't let these assholes get to you.

But the thought wouldn't go away even as he blinked hard, feeling another wave of fatigue try to overwhelm him. His eyes closed, and for a blissful moment, everything went dark. Two sharp blows woke him, and he scowled up at the figure above him. "Fuck off!" he mumbled, and then gasped and cried out as the Drac grabbed his chair and tilted it, like it was going to allow him to fall, and then steadied it before it toppled over.

The Killjoy exhaled sharply in relief, his eyes dull but widened in surprise.

The Drac stepped back and stared at him, and Party glanced away from the emotionless eyes, not wanting to think about who was under the mask. It then turned around with the other as the door's lock clicked and opened, and the Exterminator came in. "You may leave," he said, hesitating thoughtfully and then quietly murmuring to them as they passed.

Korse waited for the two to nod at the order and leave before he placed his hands behind his back, moving his attention to the red head, who he was pleased to see looked thoroughly exhausted, trembling and very pale, his bright hair hanging in wet strands across his face. "Good morning, Gerard," he smirked, a bit surprised when the boy only glared without correcting him, sighing when he finally murmured, "P-Party Poison." His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if it were painful to speak.

"That isn't your name."

"Yes, it is." he said, louder. "I don't c-care how many times you—" he cut off and coughed several times, his throat dry from thirst, and Korse raised an eyebrow as, finally, he stopped and mumbled, "—you t-tell me it's not!"

"Give it up, boy." Korse said, looking him over. "Do you not realize how weak you very clearly are?" Shaking his head, he chuckled. "Even if I untied you, you would be able to do nothing."

The Killjoy coughed again, blinked at him, and then said challengingly, "Try me."

Korse smirked. "I am, Way. I'm trying you and your endurance at this very moment." He paused, taking a step closer. "It will be interesting to see how long it takes before you simply hand over the information willingly."

"Never."

"We'll see. I've not yet done everything I could. You will change your mind."

"Right, sure," Party muttered, grimacing, and then did not resume the protest of being called what he had, his attention diverted by another subject now. "So those D-Dracs," he began after a moment. "Are they brainwashed Killjoys, too?"

"It's such a shame you all refuse to go voluntarily. But then again, not even the people who formally lived in the city do most of the time."

"You b-bastards," Poison spat. "Them, too, huh? I swear y-you'll pay for this."

"You sound very threatening."

"Fuck you!"

Korse rolled his eyes, hitting him without a second thought, and Poison let out a choked sob, shaking his throbbing head and moaning, "Stop…"

Korse gave a sickening smile; at least he was reaching him somehow. "Tell me where there are other Killjoys."

The red head was silent for a moment. "C-couldn't tell you if I wanted to…"

"Why not?" Korse scowled, and Poison glared at him. "You think we're stupid enough t-to stay in one place for long?"

Korse glared back. "They look up to you, Way. You must know something. Where they meet, where they get food—anything. We have guards at every gas station, every store, and yet—"

"That's how y-you found us…" the Killjoy murmured absentmindedly. The man who'd been looking at him so strangely while getting water…he'd alerted BLI! But even so, that didn't explain how they had discovered the diner…

Seemingly reading his mind, Korse smirked. "Not every Killjoy is as resisting as you are. Neo, was it?"

Poison flinched and winced.

"A pity you killed him…we could have used him to get his sister back…"

"You son of a—"

Korse silenced him with a slap. "Anything you say, your allies follow it; all of them. I've heard the name Party Poison too many times to count from captured Killjoys—you must be aware of some of their hideouts."

"Damn it, I'm not!" Poison scowled. "I don't know where anyone is!"

"You're lying," Korse said calmly. "You do know. I don't care if it's one or ten, tell me."

"I don't know!" he insisted, and then coughed several times more. "Why the hell d-do you need m-me to tell you?" he finally stammered. "You've been doing a g-great job killing us off one by one!"

"It isn't quick enough anymore." Korse replied.

"So what, you've g-got a quota now?" Poison demanded, but the agent only scowled, looking about to hit him again. The door opened before he could, and Korse turned to see two Dracs dragging someone else in, glancing back and smirking as Poison stiffened and cried out, "Kobra!"

Kobra Kid widened his eyes and gasped. "Party! You're—" he cut off and grunted as the Dracs shoved him to the floor, one taking a step closer and pointing a small weapon at him.

Korse faced Poison again, amused by the fact they continued to call each other by their false titles. "Tell me at least one place, Gerard. Do it now."

"Leave him the fuck alone!" Kobra shouted, and then exclaimed as the Drac reached down and pressed the object to his side, electrocuting him.

"Stop!" Poison demanded frantically.

"Tell me," Korse said, and when the Killjoy hesitated, he nodded at the Drac, who shocked the blonde again. Kobra slumped against the tile, shaking, and then looked up at Poison. "Don't—" he murmured, dazed.

"Please, stop!" the red head pleaded, and Korse smirked. "Tell me, Way."

Poison only groaned softly, and the agent began to nod at the Drac again, stopping as he heard: "Please, wait! Don't—Zone 5!"

Korse turned to him. "What about it?"

"Don't you dare!" Kobra called from the floor, and then cried out as Drac shocked him once more.

"I can't—" Poison mumbled, and then lowered his head. "Th-there's a w-warehouse…"

"Where, exactly?" Korse asked, glad they were finally getting somewhere, and then scowled as Poison only shook his head weakly, disgusted at himself.

Korse grabbed his chin and forced him to look up, finding his face was streaked with tears. "Look at your brother, Gerard. Do you want this to continue?"

The Killjoy glanced at the blonde and then exhaled sharply as Kobra met his gaze, his teeth gritted in pain, and shook his head almost too slightly to see. Poison understood what he wanted, and might have continued to resist if it were just himself, but Kobra…

He couldn't watch them hurt him anymore—he just couldn't! Shakily taking a breath, Poison finally said, "On the border of Zone 4…n-next to the road…"

Kobra moved his gaze to the floor.

Korse chuckled. Finally. "Good boy," he said, and Party flinched. "This is progress." He searched the boy's eyes for any sign that he wasn't telling the truth, finding nothing. "But if you're lying to me…"

Kobra shrieked again as the Drac pressed the object a final time to him, just barely conscious, and Poison let out a soft cry. Korse released him, turned around, and gestured for the Drac to move back. He leaned down and grabbed Kobra by his jacket, hauling his limp form up. The Killjoy cried out and lifted his foot, unable to stand on it, and then finally focused on his brother, who was staring at him, horrified.

"If it comes to this next time," Korse threatened, "I will not tell whoever it is to stop." He shoved Kobra into the Drac's grip, eyeing him for a moment before striking him hard.

"That's for shooting me," he growled, and then turned, going over to the chair and surprisingly cutting Poison loose.

Korse yanked him up by his collar, unfazed by the fact his legs would not support him at once and keeping him on his feet. "You have until I get back," he said, pushing him towards the Drac who had been standing and watching the scene without moving. "Take them back to the cell. And make sure there are guards outside at all times."

The Dracs nodded robotically and turned, forcing the two out.

They staggered along until they reached another room, and Poison frowned as he caught sight of the small numbers beside it. Room 405…hadn't that been his math class senior year? It was a perfectly terrible time to think about such things, but it somewhat distracted him from the pain; that is, until they were both shoved carelessly into it.

"Party!" he heard the other Killjoys shout, relieved to see he was alive, and he raised himself into a sitting position with his brother's help as they came over to him, the door slamming behind them. He gazed at Kobra, who looked very disoriented and in pain. "Are y-you okay?"

Kobra did not reply, more worried for him as the three inspected his condition fully. He had bruises on numerous places of his face as well as a split lip, and he was shuddering violently from his wet clothes, unmistakably exhausted.

"What happened?" Ghoul demanded, and the red head only shook his head, making an inadequate effort to brush off their concerns. "I'm…I-I'm fine…" he managed.

Disregarding the clear lie along with the other two, Kobra pulled him into his arms, leaning back against the wall. Ghoul sat next to him and also embraced the shivering Killjoy, Jet beside him. Fortunately, the room was very hot, and despite the fact the three had been uncomfortable in it before, they were grateful now.

"I—I'm s-sorry," Poison whispered after a moment, and Kobra shook his head. "It's okay," he replied, attempting comfort. "Maybe no one will be there."

Poison held back a groan and hugged himself tightly, coughing several times. Ghoul kissed his cheek and rubbed his arm, attempting to warm him up quicker, murmuring, "I love you."

Party muttered incoherently in response, not moving. He desperately wanted to sleep, but he couldn't stop trembling, and he was unable to find relief after what'd he done, even within the oblivion he was both struggling to succumb to and resist at the same time.

Jet shook his head after a moment, angry. "I'll kill that motherfucker."

"Like we and every other Killjoy don't want to, too." Kobra snapped, and Jet rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but we're here."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious!" Kobra growled, suddenly frustrated at everything and everyone from both his pain and his brother's.

"Kobra…" Ghoul began, but was ignored as Jet spoke again.

"I mean it would be easier for us to take him down! Don't you want to try and find a way to escape?"

"Do you really think there is one?"

"Jet…" Ghoul started again, interrupted immediately, and then he scowled as the yelling caused the red head to cringe and moan softly, mumbling something that sounded like stop, but neither noticed.

"So what, you're just gonna wait here until Korse comes back?"

"Does it honestly look like Party can—"

"Ray! Mikey!" Ghoul shouted, and the two instantly went quiet, looking at him. "Shut up!"

Kobra glanced away. "Sorry."

"Yeah," Jet agreed softly, "me too. I just…I can't fucking stand not being able to do anything!"

Neither replied, feeling the same. They were helpless, though; without weapons or any means of escape (they'd already searched the entire cell, which hadn't taken long at all, and there was nothing but the door) they had nothing against the guards outside, Korse, or BLI itself.

Party suppressed what sounded almost like a whimper, resting his head on the blonde's shoulder. Mikey glanced at him and then sighed, holding him even tighter and thinking about what Jet had said had happened to Missile. "Maybe Dr. D and the others will come back."

"They think we're dead, Kid." Ray said once again, pushing his hair back, and Frank reached out, just barely running his finger along the red head's cheek, uneasy. Gerard blinked at him, winced, and then squeezed his eyes shut, turning his aching head so the ceiling lights weren't shining directly on his face.

Kobra sighed. "We rescued her, maybe she'll do the same for us."

"Maybe. Or maybe—" Jet stopped himself. "Or maybe they could get some back up and get us out."

Both knew he had neither spoken the truth nor what he'd been going to. But positive thoughts were the only comfort they had, and unfortunately for them, ones that weren't false were crossing their minds less and less.

It was almost three hours later before the door opened again, and the Killjoys huddled in the corner groggily looked up as a Drac entered, the device previously used on Mikey in its grip. It did not hesitate as it walked over to them, beginning to grab for Gerard, who had finally ceased his shivering and been completely motionless since.

Kobra scowled and struck out at it before it could, tightening his grip on Poison, and then it touched the device to the blonde's shoulder. He shouted in pain and accidently released his brother to grab his arm; that had hurt a hell of a lot more than it had in the room before.

"Hey!" Jet exclaimed, but never made it to his feet before the Drac electrocuted him as well, causing him to fall back with a groan.

The Drac grabbed the red head, using the weapon on Ghoul before he could even begin to stop him, rendering all three only half aware and unable to do anything as it slapped Gerard into consciousness and forced him to stand on his own, shoving him out the door.

The Killjoy staggered several feet and then nearly fell before the Drac gripped the back of his jacket to make him stay on his feet, leading him to the end of the hallway and through another door.

Someone else took him and smacked him again. "Wake up, Gerard."

Party blinked up to see Korse, who smirked and then turned him around to see three blurred figures in front of them.

"You!" one of them growled, and Poison blinked several more times, struggling to clear his vision, finally realizing he knew who they were, having run into them before at a meetup a few months before.

"Poison!"

Party Poison turned around, nodding at the girl who waved, coming over to stand in front of him. "Wow, hi! I'm Star Dust," she said, and tucking her short blonde hair behind her ears like she was worried what he'd think of her. She was young, only about seventeen, and she very clearly was nervous, her cheeks turning redder every moment she looked at him until she apparently realized she was staring and averted her gaze. "Sorry, um—I—well, I—"

"Whoa, it's okay," Party murmured, and she looked away in embarrassment. "Sorry," she repeated, shaking her head and smiling.

Poison smiled as well. The girl and her two siblings were the newest members to join the Killjoys, still learning, and this was their first meeting between everyone; he couldn't blame her for feeling a bit afraid. She gave a breath of relief as her brother and sister came up behind her, slightly older than her but no more than a year or two. She gestured and began to introduce them. "This is—"

"Silent Killer," the boy said, and the girl beside him smirked. "Rebel Rena. Sorry about her," she nodded at Dust, and then leaned towards the red head. "She has the biggest crush on you."

"Rena!" Dust exclaimed, her eyes wide, and she blushed furiously, turning away.

"She thinks she has a chance with you," Killer chuckled, turning to Dust. "Don't you, little sis?"

"Shut up," she grumbled, not looking back.

"What's wrong, Star?" Rena laughed. "You were just telling me over there how adorable you think he is!" She eyed her sister, smiling as she taunted her. "He's too important for you, anyway."

Having had enough, Dust began walking away, bringing a hand up to her face like she might be crying, and Poison frowned, pushing past the both of them to catch up with the girl, gently taking her by her wrist so she would stop and then facing her siblings again, glaring at them. "What the hell's your problem? Are you five?" he scolded, irritated, and neither responded. "Because if you are, you're way too young to be handling guns." He gestured at the holsters around their waists that they had only just received. "Grow up and stop tormenting her; I'm serious. Okay?"

Rena sighed, and Killer crossed his arms, but both were smart enough not to argue with one of the Killjoy's leaders.

"Got it?" Poison asked a bit louder, tilting his head slightly and awaiting an answer.

"Yeah," Killer said, and Rena agreed with a nod.

"Good," Party said, looking them over. "We only have each other out here. I know the three of you are new, but really; I'd stop trying to make enemies if I were you. We've got enough of those."

He then turned to leave, pausing only briefly to whisper something into Dust's ear. Her expression went blank after a moment, and she looked up at him with an understanding nod as he pulled back, and he gave her wrist a last squeeze before he released her, joining up with another group of Killjoys, glancing back to see the girl take a deep breath and look up at the other two, who began speaking, which he hoped was them apologizing.

"What was that about?"

Poison turned as Fun Ghoul came up beside him, eyeing the red head with a smirk.

"What, are you jealous?" he teased, grabbing Ghoul's jacket and leaning towards him, pressing his lips to his. "Don't worry; I told her I'm already taken."

"Oh, so she likes you!" Ghoul murmured, clearly amused. "Why do you have to be so damn irresistible, hmm?"

Poison didn't reply, arrogantly widening his smile and walking on past him, nudging him affectionately with his shoulder as he did so.

Poison blinked the memory away. The small group of three—they'd just barely been starting out as Killjoys then, and now, here they were, all tied, kneeling on the ground, in a situation that could very well be the end of them. "You son of a bitch!" Star Dust continued. "You're working for them?"

"No! I—"

Silent Killer interrupted him. "You're supposed to be our fucking leader!" he shrieked angrily. "How many others have you turned in, huh?"

Poison shook his head, dismayed, and Killer snorted, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Great! Just us! How special are we?"

"Traitor!" Rebel Rena yelled, and Gerard flinched.

Suddenly, something shot past Poison, and Rena slumped to the ground.

Poison opened his mouth to exclaim, but Korse clamped a hand over it before he could, blowing smoke from the tip of his gun as Dust cursed loudly at him, horrified, though Killer merely remained silent.

"It's not a stun gun this time," Korse whispered, smirking, and Gerard gave a muffled shout as the man pointed it at Killer, who raised his head, glaring at the agent. "Fuck you." he said, monotone, and Korse shot it.

Poison trembled violently, disgusted, and Dust exhaled sharply, looking away, her dark green eyes watering.

Korse released the Killjoy to instead shove the gun into his reluctant grip, dragging him over to the girl and forcing him to press the weapon to her head.

"Stop! No! Please!" Gerard exclaimed, trying to yank his hand away, but hadn't enough strength to do so. "Please!"

Korse ignored him, his own finger over the Killjoy's on the trigger.

Dust stiffened as his grip tightened, and yet kept quiet, staring unwaveringly at Poison, who gave a small sob as he met her gaze. He saw the fear she wouldn't allow herself to show in it, saw how desperately she wanted to live along with the knowledge that she couldn't, that it was all over. Was this what Korse had seen in him before in the lobby?

"Please…" the red head whispered, though now it was directed at her instead of Korse. "I'm so sorry—"

"I trusted you," Dust murmured, cutting him off, and she would've caused him less pain if she'd slapped him. Gerard fought to find words, but his voice wouldn't work. No, she had to know—she had to know he hadn't meant for any of this to happen, that he wasn't a traitor before she—

The agent pressed his finger down.

"No!" Gerard screamed, both his yell and the shot echoing, falling to his knees as the agent let him go, and he stared at the lifeless Killjoys, utterly appalled with what Korse…what he had just…

Korse smirked, enjoying how terrified the boy was. "Three less," he murmured callously.

Gerard's strength returned to him in a rush of sudden, absolute fury. He jumped to his feet and whirled towards the man, striking him across the face as hard as he could manage. He gasped for breath as Korse staggered back, scowling just as deeply as him, and then couldn't hit him again. Instead, he turned around, bent over, and was sick.

Korse composed himself and waited until the boy straightened up, trembling just as badly as he had been before, though now it was from shock, not cold.

"Not bad at all, Gerard. Three is better than none at all." Korse placed a hand on his shoulder, as if he were somehow proud of him.

"Fuck—you—" Gerard gasped shakily, weakly swatting at his hand but not making an actual effort to get away, his will to fight gone.

"What's wrong, boy?" Korse continued as if he'd never been cursed at. "Upset you killed some of your friends?" He chuckled darkly. Despite not knowing how much, Korse was positive he had gotten to the Killjoy, and the agent was thrilled at both the thought and the evident fact the red head was aware of it. "You've been doing it longer than you realize," he added, his voice lower.

Gerard's stomach heaved again, and he winced. No, no—this was all wrong! Even though it'd been unwillingly, he'd just shot someone, ended her life without being able to do anything about it. And in fact, he was the reason all three of them were dead. And the others…every other helpless, brainwashed, unaware Killjoy or innocent civilian he'd killed…not wondering even once if that might be what Dracs were…

The accusations against himself raced through his mind, making him feel even sicker, and then everything blurred and darkened, and he dropped to his knees again, not having an ounce of strength or resolve left in him to get back up.

"Excellent, Way," Korse chuckled distantly.

The twenty-four-year-old blacked out.