The Collector

Pulling back her left arm, furious that Party still gripped her right wrist tightly with no apparent intention of letting go, Red swung a clenched fist connecting sharply with Party's jaw. His head jarred sharply to the left and his eyes popped with surprise as the unexpected pain exploded up into his cheek. The shock of the unexpected punch forced his grip to weaken and she pulled free with a deep angry frown etched on her face.

"The fuck!" He screamed leaping up and, pushing himself from the booth, reached for her once more.
"Don't even think about it!" Red yelled, backing up a couple of paces.
"Party," Jet sighed. "Leave her alone."
'Fuck that!"

He advanced on her once more, his temper flaming as red as his hair. Grabbing for her arm once more, he lunged forward, only to have his hand batted away as she raised her arm defensively. With a quick turn, and once more with a left hook, Red landed a blow to his abdomen. Following through with an upward motion, she knocked much of the air from his lungs.

"Red, calm down!" Jet yelled, trying desperately to keep the peace while Pony and Death Defying looked on with amusement. "Party! Stop it! We have to find Ghoul!" he added as the incensed Killjoy, raised his head, his expression one of blind rage.

With a deep groan, Jet pushed himself out of the booth to break up the fight. Party was beyond listening.

“This is going to be priceless,” Pony rolled his head in Death Defying's direction and grinned.

Looking back, the older man nodded.

"He's far too weak. Party's gonna have his ass handed to him by a little girl."
"I am not a little girl!" Red screamed furiously.

But the rest was true. Raising a sharply aimed boot, Red connected and Party dropped like a stone clutching himself. All blood drained from his face and he looked on the verge of passing out. Falling forward he retched violently, bile collecting in his throat, the acid burning him. He sank down onto his elbows as the pain went deeper causing a dragging sensation in his abdomen, which continued to radiate up and out until it permeated his entire body. Sagging limply, he slipped onto his side, gasping and moaning as he struggled to breathe.

Staring down with her hands on her hips, she began to calm, now feeling slightly guilty at the pain she had caused the still weak and ailing man. But only slightly. She noted the reaction from the other men in the room. Up until the point of her accurately placed kick, both Pony and Death Defying had been amused and Jet simply frustrated. Now, a wave of empathic calm had settled over all three men as each of them seemed to feel some aspect of his discomfort.

Looking up, she turned her gaze toward Jet, expecting a tongue lashing at the devastating effect of her actions on his friend. Surprisingly, he offered a small sympathetic smile that seemed to ask after her emotional and physical state. Taking a calming breath, she nodded almost imperceptibly and offered a faint smile of thanks for his efforts in trying to calm Party’s misplaced temper.

Now on his knees and supporting himself with one hand on the floor, he kept his hand cupped protectively as he slowly regained his composure and finally, a few minutes later, his breathing began to slow, returning almost to normal. He remained pale, however. Jet wasn’t sure how much of that was a result of the attack to his most delicate of areas and how much was due to the illness from which he was still recovering. Offering a hand to Party, Jet smiled as he took it without comment, allowing his friend to help him to his feet. Gingerly, he rose and turned what he wanted to be a frown towards Red, but it appeared as a queasy stare.

“You’d be handy in a fight,” he finally said grudgingly.
“Well,” she accepted it was probably the closest she’d get to an apology, “looks like you might need protecting right now.”

Party laughed reluctantly, shaking his head.

“Did you go to the same charm school as Jet?” he asked, his breathing settling fully, but still not quite upright.
“Want a hand?” she asked stepping closer growing increasingly apologetic as he seemed to warm towards her.

Waving her over, Party draped his arm across her shoulders and nodded.

“You’re more of a crutch really,” he teased.

Red took a very deep breath, releasing it slowly without response as Jet shot a warning glance at her.

“So, you’re from Dust Bowl?” Party asked as he edged, with Red’s assistance, back to the booth.
“Today,” she shrugged. “I’m from wherever I am that day.”
“So, you don’t know anyone there?”
“You still don’t trust me, do you?” she asked with a frown.
“I can count on two hands exactly how many people I can trust with fingers to spare. If I trusted everyone I just met, I wouldn’t still be alive.”

Red nodded; she could appreciate that.

“Just don’t give me reason to doubt you,” he stared into her eyes, searching for signs of deception.
“Sure, but don’t you give me reason to geld you and we’ll get along just fine.”

Party offered a half smile, half smirk; he was getting an indication of how Jet had grown to trust her.

"Well" Jet chuckled, "you've got to admit, Party, she's got balls."
"That's more than he's got now," Pony laughed openly, earning an attempt at a glare from Party, which dissolved into a resigned laugh. It was time to give in.

Besides, there was something much more pressing to deal with. Where was Ghoul? Who had him and possibly Kobra and how would they secure their safe return?

The radio crackled to life once more. Jet immediately swung around to answer, noticing that the emergency channel had been activated, he switched on the scrambler before pressing down on the receiver’s trigger.

“Go for Jet.”
“Jet,” Candi’s voice came over the radio. “I think we’ve found them!”
“Them?” Jet’s voice rose in elation. “Kobra too?”
“Yes! Both of them!” Candi sounded excited. “Can you and Party meet Ice and me at the bakery? We have a plan.”
“That’s great! Where are they, though?” Jet pressed.
“I can…”

Static.

“When you…”

Static.

“… sure…”

Static.

“Candi, you’re breaking up!” Jet cried in frustration.

“… at the bakery…”

Static.

“… sooner the better.”

Static. Just static.

“Party?” Jet looked at his friend – he appeared tired but trying to hide it.
“Let’s go,” he nodded.

Red got to her feet and Party chewed on his lower lip as he considered their options.

“It sounds like you need all the help you can get,” she explained. “Besides, I don’t know Kobra, but Ghoul was nice to me. I want to help.”

Jet turned his eyes toward Party, willing him to agree.

He nodded. “Come on, let’s make some noise.”


*


Korse swept from room to room, his ire growing as each one drew a blank. The information he had received was sound, he knew it but proving it was apparently going to be difficult.

“Sir,” one of the draculoids approached from another room in the museum. “We’ve searched everywhere, we can find no evidence.”
“Look again!” he snapped, furious.

He had pushed hard to get the warrant, Judge Melling had been reluctant and had been unwilling to risk upsetting one of Battery City’s wealthiest citizens. Concerned particularly because of his awareness of her network of high-ranking contacts; he valued his job and indeed, his life. Korse could simply not afford to return to the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit’s manager and tell her that he had come up empty handed.

Looking around carefully at the consistently white walls surrounding him. There was something – something he was missing. He knew it. He felt it, like a knot in his stomach, a real tension. Despite her attempts to hide it, he knew she was nervous. She was hiding something certainly, but she was hiding it well.

The most he’d been able to ascertain from his contact that something was in the building that would lead him directly to the Killjoys. An exhibit of some sort. There was nothing immediately obvious, pre-war and historical artefacts filled each room of the sterile space but nothing post-war. What could possibly be here that would lead him to the rebels? There didn’t seem to be a single exhibit in the entire building that could even have been created during the lifetime of the Killjoys. How would any of the items on display lead him anywhere? Staring at the blank wall ahead of him, he knew there was little he could do to conjure up the evidence he needed. He would have to discuss it further with his contact, and this time, he would give him all the information. He would worry about the warrant later.

“Exterminator Korse,” Evelyn entered the room, swallowing her nerves as he stared at the dummy wall covering the Killjoy exhibit entrance. “I have been most accommodating but I want to know when you and your… men will be leaving.”

Korse turned, eyeing her carefully. He knew, yes, he knew all right.

“I’ll give you one last opportunity,” he spoke coldly, hoping to scare her, to trigger something to give him cause to arrest and interrogate her.
“I don’t even know what you’re looking for,” she replied smoothly. “How can I answer your challenge if I don’t know what you want?”
“Is that so?” he asked, his tone clipped in frustration.
“Yes,” she replied haughtily. “That’s so.”
“Very well,” he scowled angrily. “I will be back and I will find what I’m looking for.”
“I very much doubt that,” she replied sternly. “Now, I would like you to leave.”

Korse contemplated her words. He believed they had been chosen carefully. Something in this museum was going to lead him to the Killjoys and he was determined to find it. He could not even have guessed that beyond the wall only a few feet behind him, two of his prey lay unconscious in their cells.

Notes