The Collector

Party Poison groaned quietly as he came to. It had not been the first time that he had woken up groggy and weak recently but it was by far the worst. His head ached, his throat felt sore, dry and scratchy, his eyes felt very much as if they were bloodshot and due to lack of repeat doses of Ademen, his lung infection was starting to reappear. In short, he was ill, weak and vulnerable. Of the three, it was the third he feared most.

He wanted very much to open his eyes and find himself back in his own room in the rundown motel suite that attached to the diner. There was no air conditioning, no running water and the furnishings had seen better days - much better days - but it would be paradise compared with what he was waking to. Party’s heart sank as he opened his swollen, puffy eyes and, in the mirror above him, he saw that he was still strapped to the table inside the Memory Chamber. To his deep regret, a strangled and desperate sound forced its way from his throat. It was purely instinctual and involuntary but it was loud enough for the man standing nearby to hear it and almost immediately Party heard the sound of deep, mocking laughter.

“Oh dear, Gerard,” Korse shook his head as he rose to stand next to him. “Did you really think you would wake somewhere else? In your desert hideout with your friends, perhaps? You won't ever wake up there again. And what of your lover?”

Party’s eyes flicked over to Korse in horror. What did he know? Was Ghoul all right? Did he have him too?

“Oh, yes,” Korse laughed. “'I know all about her.”

Party looked away, trying hard to stop the smile on his face from showing. Korse was fishing; he knew nothing.

“Tell me, Korse, what do you know?” He croaked, only now realising the extent that his mouth and throat were parched and raw.

Korse laughed cruelly. “Oh, poor Gerard, your voice has been ruined from screaming. And do you know what? Your ordeal is far from over. There is one more memory I need to view, and a few more recent ones.”

“What are you doing, Korse?” Party frowned. “'If you're not erasing my memories, what do you want from me?”

“Now if I told you that, it wouldn't be fun anymore, would it?”

“Fun?” Party snapped. “You're sick, Korse, you know that?”

“I am merely performing my role to the highest standard, and if that means torturing the occasional Zone Rat, then that's exactly what I'll do.”

“But I'm not just any Zone Rat, am I?” Party reminded him.

“Are you now acknowledging me as your uncle, Gerard? I didn’t think you were anywhere near as broken as all that.”

“No,” he began stiffly, somehow mustering a defiant glare. “I’m Party Poison, leader of the Fabulous Killjoys. All the Zone Dwellers look to us for help and inspiration and we will defeat you and bring BLI crashing down!”

Korse offered a smile that bordered on pity but was plainly mocking his prisoner.

“It is that very inspiration that I will take from you. What will you do, I wonder, when no one looks to you any more? When your name is reviled? When even your fellow rebels disown you to save their own reputations?”

“That’s never going to happen, Korse!” Party growled. “I don’t know how you think you’re going to achieve that, but you're wasting your time. If you kill me, I'll only inspire more to come after me. We will bring you down!”

“I admire your confidence, Gerard. Few would manage such brave words while in your position.” Korse leaned closer, lifting the remote in his hand and pressing two buttons. “But lets see how confident you are after this, shall we?”

Party stiffened as he saw two of the syringes pull back, filling their vials before advancing once more, piercing his skin and flooding him with their toxic contents.

“I will kill you, Korse! I promise you!” Party managed before being overtaken by the pain from the drugs.

The last thing he heard before slipping into his memory was Korse’s harsh laughter ringing in his ears.

*

Gerard and Mikey were huddled close to each other, sitting on the floor in the corner of the white, sparsely furnished room. Both had been forced to change into a set of basic white overalls and their watches, shoes and socks removed also. Gerard had tried hard to keep a sense of time passing, but with no daylight to guide him, he had soon lost track. He had been too concerned with taking care of Mikey to care too much about the time. Mikey had started crying shortly after Uncle Grant had left them alone in the small room. Gerard had managed to block out his own pain to comfort his brother; rocking the terrified six-year-old boy gently in his lap. He had told him over and over that everything would be all right and not to worry. Despite what Gerard knew were obvious lies, Mikey eventually cried himself to sleep, lying comfortably in his brother’s arms.

Until now, Gerard had contained his emotions, keeping them hidden from Mikey so as not to scare him even more than he already was. But now, the barrier was down and Gerard’s tears flowed freely. He had witnessed his uncle murder their father. That had been bad enough, but in the car on the way to the giant building with the huge smiley face decorating two of its outer walls, their uncle had explained what awaited them. He had spoken quite softly to them, but there was a coldness both in his words and tone that scared the two boys.

He had explained that, because they were now alone in the world, BLI would raise them, look after them and turn them into happy, productive citizens. Mikey hadn't understood the implications of his words, but Gerard knew that what he was essentially telling them was that their mother had also been murdered. How could he tell his six-year-old brother that their uncle had murdered both their parents? He had also explained that they would be able to keep their names, but on the rare occasions they would see him in the future, they were now to address him as Exterminator Korse.

Gerard had wanted to ask why, but was afraid that whatever the reason, it would upset Mikey. Besides, he himself wasn't certain of his ability to even utter a single word without either of them hearing the pain and terror in his voice. Noticing his hands trembling, Gerard knew that his voice would almost certainly be reacting in the exact same way. He felt numb, weak, bewildered and desperately unhappy. But all that had to go on hold, he had to be strong for Mikey and he prayed they would be allowed to stay together.

His hopes were shattered in an instant as a man - he couldn’t say for certain but he guessed at the gender - entered the room. Dressed head to toe in white, and wearing a hood with a smiley face printed on it, the man approached the pair and wrenched Mikey from Gerard’s grasp. Horrified, Gerard scrambled to his feet as his shocked brother looked back wide-eyed and on the verge of tears once more.

“No!” Gerard cried, leaping forward and grabbing the man’s arm, trying to uncurl his fingers from his grip on Mikey. “'We want to stay together!”

“Gee!” Mikey gasped, as he planted his feet trying to keep from being dragged out of the room.

Without a sound, the man shoved Gerard in the chest, briefly forcing him backwards.

"Let him go!” Gerard yelled, repeatedly thumping a fist as hard as he was able onto the man’s arm followed by a sharp kick to his knee. “Get your hands off him! We’re staying together!”

“Gee! I want to stay with Gee!” Mikey screamed terrified, tears now streaming down his face.

Not even bothering to reply, the anonymous man swung an arm, his fist colliding with Gerard’s jaw. It was a wonder it neither broke nor dislocated, but Gerard was aware of an explosion of pain as the force of the blow almost lifted the young boy off his feet. Spiralling to the left, Gerard spun away, crashing into the wall before sliding unconscious to the floor. Gerard was spared hearing Mikey’s fearful screams as he was dragged from the room before the door was once again locked. Later, Gerard would blame and berate himself for not being strong enough to protect his brother and prevent the cruel torture that had followed - memory erasure - some would say he never fully recovered from this particular trauma.

The technology supporting memory erasure was still in its infancy, but the mind of the younger of the two brothers proved more malleable and could be shaped. He was eventually, after four treatments, forced to forget his parents and uncle. To Mikey, now he was just Korse with no link or connection. At age ten, however, the repeated painful injections and shock therapy seemed almost like medieval torture. Finally, exhausted and in fear of being broken, Gerard feigned similar memory loss to his brother. It was the only way to stop the pain, but it left him with a terrible phobia of needles, a burning need for revenge and a desperation to live in colour. One day when they were old enough to survive, Gerard vowed that they would escape Battery City with a determination to return, armed and ready, to avenge their family’s death.

*

Party sagged, exhausted and drained as the memory faded to black on the monitor. So tired was he that it wasn't until Korse approached and spoke that he realised that the memory was over.

“And now, Gerard…”

“Party,” he croaked weakly.

“Still not broken?” Korse raised an eyebrow. “I have to admit, I'm impressed.”

“I don’t care,” Party managed, his voice now barely audible.

Korse laughed cruelly. “Ah, but you do. You get your stubborn streak from your father.”

“Don’t you dare speak about him,” Party found the words coming to him with difficulty. “You have no right.”

“You’ll have to speak up, Gerard,” Korse laughed. “'I can hardly hear you.”

“Go to hell!” Party hissed.

“One last injection, Gerard and very soon, I will be finished torturing you. After that, you can go back to your cell and rot for all I care.”

“What is it you want from me?” Gerard asked, more confused than ever.

“I want your memories,” Korse smirked.

Party gasped and looked up in horror.

“No!” He almost pleaded. “Don’t take my memories.”

“Oh, the great Party Poison, begging to retain his memories. Did I hear correctly?”

“Leave me my memories or kill me, Korse,” Party sighed lowering his eyes. “One or the other.”

Korse chuckled. “I have no need to take your memories, I’m just copying them. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

A section of the wall slid aside and Party heard footsteps approaching. Only when the figure stood alongside Korse did he realise the full horror of his situation. He gazed up at a facsimile of himself, perfect in every physical detail, even down to the partially amused smirk with which the figure regarded him.

“What is this?” Party’s voice shook with genuine concern. “Who’s he?”

“He is you, of course,” Korse laughed at the panic in his prisoner’s eyes and other more subtle signs of his concern - his clenched fists and his tensed biceps and thighs as he strained against the straps.

“You might as well relax, you won’t get free, ever! If your friends ever get free from the Hart museum, which I expect they will - my contact will ensure it, they will come here to try to free you. Of course, by then, your memories will be duplicated and housed inside this android replica. You will naturally be locked away, far from sight and your foolish friends will rescue your replica. But far from being a thorn in BLI’s side, he will kill rebels, steal from townships instead of supplying them. He will destroy the Killjoys name and reputation. Other rebels will have no one to look to, no leaders, no one to inspire them. Without you, your feeble group will fail and without the Killjoys, the Zones will crumble. Anyone who wants to live can return to BLI for re-indoctrination. Everyone else will die in a series of raids undertaken in your name. And you see, Party Poison, all of this will happen with your knowledge. You will witness it all and I will parade your replica as a shining beacon for BLI. You and your band of rebels will be disgraced. With any luck, they may even be murdered by Zone Rats, and if not, I’m certain I can arrange for it to happen. You see, Gerard, I will break you and in the most painful way possible. You will never see daylight, your friends, your brother or your girlfriend again! And all I need from you, are a few memories.”

Korse clicked another button on the remote and a single syringe advance on Party, injecting its contents. Trying desperately to fight its effects, Party stiffened, strained against the straps and screamed in agony as the drug seemed to constrict every nerve in his body.

“Oh yes, I forgot,” Korse laughed cruelly. “First, I have to weaken you just that little bit more. I expect you’ll survive the process, but if you don’t, it’s been a pleasure torturing you.”

Party tried hard to hold onto his thought processes, not to fight the drug, but to work with it. He had no idea if his idea was even possible, but he had one chance and one chance only. He just prayed he would remain strong enough. In bleak desperation, he clung to his clouding mind; he had to hold on. He just had to.

Notes

Hello everyone! Thanks for reading :) I hope you enjoyed this instalment. Poor Party, what will happen to him?
If you liked it, why not drop a quick comment - I'd love to hear from you!

Sas xx