The Collector

It was an entirely white room without furniture. Even the interrogator wore entirely white clothing. The only colour in the room was Party Poison, standing upright and defiant in the centre of the room. From the ceiling above him, five beams of white light encircled him, holding him captive within their circumference. He wasn’t certain how it worked – Ghoul and Kobra where more adept with gadgetry than he was – but somehow even the spaces between the beams were impenetrable, effectively holding him within a cylinder of light.

At first the beams had been spread wide, allowing him room to lie down, as he had been unconscious when taken, but now he was awake the beams had been drawn in and he was forced to stand.

The interrogator had been in the room for about half an hour and had circled him, made notes, adjusted the light beams and made derisory snorting or laughing noises. Another man may have been drawn in to his game, but Party refused to be baited and remained silent, simply staring blankly ahead. If the interrogator wanted a reaction from him, he would have to work much harder than that!

“Name?” the man dressed in white demanded as, once more, he circled his captive. “Name!” he yelled again on receiving no reply.

The flame-haired man remained still and unflinching at the sudden increase in volume, simply staring ahead at the wall refusing even to acknowledge the Better Living Industries’ interrogator.

“Do you know who I am?” the man in white sneered as he stepped in front to face him.

Party Poison focussed his eyes on the man standing before him and allowed his lips to curl into a lazy smirk.

“You’re not having a good day if you don’t know who either of us are.”

Furious, the man stabbed at one of the buttons on the remote he held in his left hand and a shaft of purple light sparked from each of the light beams of Poison’s prison. Searing through him at waist level but leaving no mark, Poison grimaced in pain and his knees briefly buckled under him.Gathering his wits, he stood firm, taking in air in short gasps and trying hard not to show his discomfort. The man in white snorted his approval at the reaction.

“You realise, of course, that that’s one of the lowest intensity shocks I can give you. There are eight more levels and the final one will kill you.”
“Well, you won’t get anything out of me if you kill me,” Party replied bringing his breathing back under control.
“Perhaps not, but I may kill you if it looks like you won’t co-operate. I’m not going to waste valuable time on you, Poison. There are three others where you came from,” he chuckled callously.
“Three?” Party’s expression grew despondent.
“Ah, you don’t know,” the man in white allowed a grin to spread across his face. “We have all four of you now,” he lied. “The Fabulous Killjoys are no more.”

Gerard swallowed hard. However bleak their situation seemed, he would not give in. They were the Killjoys and, to his mind, they may be captured but that did not mean they had to crumble and give in.

“So, name?” the man repeated his earlier question.
“Party Poison,” came the defiant reply.
“Your real name!” he demanded.
“Party Poison!” he yelled in return, refusing to submit.
“Very well, Party Poison,” the man sneered. “A period of ultra-violet will loosen your will, along with your tongue.”

Pressing a button on the remote, the five light beams that circled him closed in on Party until they pressed against his body. Surprised by their steel-like rigidity, he found himself held firm, unable to move, not even to extend a finger between the beams. It felt to him as if they had moulded around him, allowing him only the capacity to breathe.

“Comfortable?” the man smiled as he pressed a second button.

As he did, a small throaty croak emerged from Party’s lips as the invisible ultra-violet light swept through every inch of his body. It wasn’t as painful a burst of energy as the previous purple light had been, but this was not a burst of energy, this was a slow, agonising, pulsating flow. Within moments, Party realised that the man intended to maintain the level of energy currently flowing the length of his body. Only now he realised why the light beams had been drawn in. He knew it was only a matter of time before he could no longer support his own weight. Gritting his teeth as he called on whatever reserves of defiance he could muster, Party prayed for the strength to withstand the onslaught.

“Let’s see how long you can take that, Party Poison!” the man laughed. “Or should I say, Gerard?”

Party’s eyes widened at the response. The man knew his name. He didn’t know how, neither did he know why he had questioned him for over an hour for information he already had. Held firm, and unable either to move, pass out or fight back, all he knew was that he was now suffering for refusing to answer the man’s unnecessary question. The unnerving thought crossed his mind that perhaps there were no real questions. Perhaps there was no interrogation? Was this all just to break him?

Closing his eyes against the pain, Party clenched his jaw, trying hard to keep the agony from voicing itself. Fearful that once a cry escaped his lips it might be impossible to stop.

*

Red turned sharply to stare at Kobra.

“H-how do…” she paused, frowning at the Killjoy who was beaming a bright, cheerful smile at her.
“Mi…!” Red forced herself to stop before composing herself. “Well now, someone did a nice job of growing up!” she replied casting her eyes over Kobra with an appreciative smile.
Kobra tilted his head and offered a lazy smile.
“Yeah, I guess I’ve changed too,” he replied, smirking as her eyes widened in response.
“You cheeky bastard!” she gasped. “No, you haven’t changed at all!”
“Come here!” he grinned, scooping her up and spinning her around briefly.

As Kobra lowered Red to the ground once more, he looked down. At first simply happy to see her, but moments after their eyes met Kobra quickly closed the gap to place his lips softly on hers.

“Umm, Kobra?” Ghoul interjected. “Do you think we could maybe escape, please?”
“Huh?” Kobra broke the kiss with a slight flush of embarrassment. “Oh, yeah,” he smiled.
“Jet,” Ghoul frowned as he inspected his gun. “The battery’s been taken out.”
“Don’t worry, we brought some spares,” Jet replied, holding the rope for Kobra to climb up.
“And some spare guns,” Red added as she climbed. “Love your gadget, by the way.”
Ghoul smiled. “Yeah, I could make a fortune off those, if anyone in the zones had any money!”
“Ghoul,” Jet smirked, “if they had any money, they wouldn’t need one!”

Ghoul shrugged; he had a point.

“You next,” Jet pointed to the rope.
“You go, then you and Kobra can just haul me up. It’ll swing too much if you’re on it with no one holding it.”

It was Jet’s turn to concede the point as he quickly headed up, Kobra reaching down to help him the last couple of feet.

“Come on,” Jet leaned back down, both his and Kobra’s hands on the rope ready to pull.
Settling himself on the rope, with his ankles wrapped around it just above one of the knots, the two men began to pull.
“No!” came a shrill cry from the door.

All eyes turned to see Evelyn returning to the exhibition room with Sorby at her side, both horrified to see them escaping.

“Pull!” Jet ordered.

He and Kobra pulled hard on the rope, with Ghoul also opting to climb, scrambling up the rope as fast as he was able.

“She’s got a gun!” Red shouted, from behind them, unable to reach into the too small gap to help.

The flash of light tore through the subtly lit room and the rope suddenly spun as Ghoul sagged, his right hand, that had been reaching up toward Jet, now hung at his side. His head dropped suddenly and the fingers of his left hand began to uncurl from around the rope.

“Ghoul!” Jet cried, as the younger man fell back to the floor unmoving.

There was no time for any more words as Kobra pulled Jet away from the open panel as a shot exploded on the frame. Hoisting the rope back up quickly, Kobra pushed the panel in place and pulled at Jet’s arm.

“What the hell, man!” Jet’s eyes widened. “You’re just leaving him?”
“Find them!” they heard Evelyn shout from below. “Lock down all exits, all of them! They mustn’t escape!”
“If he’s alive we can rescue him,” Kobra pulled again at his arm as they all felt another laser shot hit the panel. “But we have to get away from here, at least for now.”

*

Party Poison woke slowly, disorientated and confused. He managed to open his eyes, but they fell shut again almost immediately as the brightness of the room threatened to trigger a migraine. Groaning softly, he counted his limbs; they all seemed to be there, although he could only really tell by the sheer amount of aching they were making him suffer. He tried again to open his eyes and managed only to get them to open half way.

“Why does it have to be so goddamned bright in here?” he muttered quietly to himself.
“I can have it altered, if you prefer?”

Party turned his head sharply toward the sound of the voice, and automatically reached for his gun. The sudden motion causing him to collapse backwards as the room spun and his head felt as if it would crack open. He didn’t even notice that his gun wasn’t even at his side.

“I’m sorry,” the voice responded soothingly, as Party sunk back onto what he now realised was a bed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Who are you?” he groaned as he tried hard to stop the room from spinning, closing his eyes in the hope that it would help.

He felt a cool, damp cloth being placed over his forehead and a gentle hand stroking his hair. The bed was comfortable, the touch was soothing, even the light had dimmed. Beneath the cloth, Party’s furrowed brow relaxed and he allowed his shoulders to do the same.

“That’s better,” she responded in a calming tone. “Just relax, you’re safe here. I’m looking after you.”

Party took in a few deep breaths as she continued to stroke his hair. Only when she bent down to softly press her lips to his did his eyes fly open once more. Startled, the woman sat back up as Party scrambled backwards on the bed, suddenly wide awake, the cloth falling from his forehead onto his lap.

Sitting in front of him was a gentle looking, slender woman with a short bob of green hair, dressed in a form-fitting black body suit. Party stared at her for a few moments before speaking again.

“Who are you?”
“Green PD68B,” she replied. “What would you like to call me?”
“Green? You’re a porno droid?” he asked, puzzled by her presence and confused by his own whereabouts.
“Yes, Gerard,” she replied. “I’m here to look after you.”
“My name’s Party,” he frowned.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been programmed to call you Gerard.”

Party looked around for any hidden cameras. Not seeing one, he decided to speak anyway, just in case.

“You think a pretty face calling me Gerard is going to make me forget who I am?” he shouted into the room.
“Who are you talking to?” Green asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” he shook his head. “I want you to call me Party.”
“I’m sorry, Gerard, I can’t do that.”

Party looked around the room once more and shook his head angrily. They were trying to get to him and the worst of it was that it was working.

“What are you here for?” he asked Green.
“Whatever you want, I am to give you.”

The reply seemed unlikely to be true, as she had already denied his first request, but it seemed worth asking anyway.

“Yeah?” Party raised an eyebrow.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he regretted the action immediately and remained still for a few moments while he gathered himself before pushing himself to his feet. Once steady, Party moved with some trepidation and pain toward the door, realising immediately that, as expected, it was locked.

“Can you get me out of here?”
“I’m sorry, Gerard,” she lowered her eyes regretfully. “I’m not allowed to leave the room with you.”

Party frowned. Wait, was there a loop hole they hadn’t considered?

“Can you get the door open so I can leave?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes, I can do that,” Green announced to his surprise.

Party watched with uncertainty as she placed her right palm on the door panel on the wall to the side. Green then lowered her hand as the red light flicked to green and, to his amazement, the door slid open.

Stepping out of the room, Party’s arms were seized by strong hands of two men – he assumed draculoids, but it happened too fast to see – slammed into the wall opposite and forced to his knees, Party grimaced as his hands were pulled behind him and restraints locked firmly around his wrists. A gag was pulled deep into his mouth and tied firmly at the nape of his neck. Finally, a white drawstring cotton bag was pulled over his head and the strings pulled tight around his neck, making him gasp against the gag.

“Your will and determination will be the death of you, Gerard,” Korse’s voice mocked him close to his ear. He laughed, delighting in the fast and irregular rise and fall of Party’s chest as his anger took control.

Korse straightened up once more, addressing the two draculoids.

“Let’s see if we can’t change some of that anger to fear,” he laughed again. “Take him to the Memory Chamber and get him ready. I’ll be there shortly.”

Writhing in the draculoids’ grip, Party was dragged along the corridor struggling desperately against his captors, with his frustrated screams heavily muffled by the gag and hood.
Green PD68B watched, concerned. She had been programmed to look after him.

Notes