The Collector

Party didn’t know how long he’d been asleep; he had completely lost track of time. Of course, it barely mattered now, it wasn’t as if he was going anywhere, was it? He sighed heavily as that thought drifted through his mind. Had Korse truly broken him? Was he giving up? Did it even matter? He knew he still felt so very ill from the infection and exhausted from the torture he had endured.

Those memories, those long forgotten, or at the very least repressed, memories haunted him now. He couldn’t decide which was worse - Korse killing his father in front of him or the six-year-old Mikey being torn away from him and his complete inability to do anything about it. As he examined both traumatic memories, he now realised the impact they had both had on his adult self.

His own uncle making him and his brother orphans at age ten and six had severely affected his ability to trust anyone. If he couldn’t trust family he had known all his life, how could he possibly trust anyone he had just met? And now, it had happened again. Candi and Ice; people he had known for years betraying them for money. He knew, he had to choose. Would he choose to suspect everyone, always or would he opt for taking people at face value? Neither seemed viable. The former would leave him miserable and friendless. The latter would probably get him killed. Of course, all of this assumed he would ever leave this room, which right now seemed very unlikely.

But what of the other memory? He found that strangely even more disturbing because now he could quite clearly see the effect it had had on him, but more so on Kobra. He never wanted to allow Kobra out of his sight. He desperately needed to protect him and keep him close at all times. If they were together, everything would be all right. Now he realised how frustrating it must be for Kobra and why he viewed it as not being trusted. Almost certainly the memory of being taken forcefully from his older brother had been removed and he was unaware of the length of time they were separated. They were apart for a little over a month, in fact, it could have been more. Gerard’s treatments seem to have dragged on for weeks and he was unconscious or groggy for much of the time. When he was coherent, he begged to see his brother but was consistently denied. One day he awoke and Mikey was there and remained so. But since that day, Gerard, now Party, had made certain they were never separated. At first, he had believed the reason for all the problems they were currently having was because Kobra had disobeyed him and gone off on his own. But now, he realised that if he had ever listened to his brother or explained himself, Kobra would not have stormed off. That said, this would still have happened. Candi and Ice would still have betrayed them. Finding Red had been their saving grace. She had meant that they had been separated.

He had been told during his interrogation that they had all been captured by Hart, yet Korse had said that they were going to escape from the museum. He had even made a point of telling him that a contact in the museum would ensure it. This whole elaborate trap had been set up purely to capture him and have them rescue an android version of himself. Party smiled; Korse had made a grave error there by believing Red to be Party’s girlfriend. If what was left of his fried brain had been successful, he may just have been able to plant some fake memories in the head of that damn android.

With that one thought, Party realised that he was angry and unforgiving with himself. How had he allowed himself to be captured? Kobra? Yes, he had been taken completely unaware. Ghoul? Yes, attacked at Candi and Ice’s apartment - people they trusted. Himself? Exactly the same. But he had realised in that last moment what was happening. He’d gone for his gun but had been too slow. Seriously ill and drugged; realistically he had no chance, so why did he beat himself up about it? He expected more from himself, he had people relying on him for their safety. No, they all looked out for each other, but he had to blame himself because he couldn’t blame anyone else, could he? But of course, he could. He could blame Candi, Ice and Evelyn Hart.

“Snap out of it, Party,” he grumbled. “Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help.”

He wanted so much to believe that that was all it was. Once he was recovered, he would be able to fight back, sass Korse and maybe even escape? Perhaps believing it was enough? Korse hadn’t taken that from him. No, he was still Party Poison. Underneath the illness and exhaustion he was still a Killjoy and Korse would see that soon enough.

As Party rallied his spirits, the door to his cell opened to reveal a woman roughly in her mid-thirties wearing a white coat, flanked by two armed men.

“Oh good, anonymous BLI smiley-hooded goons,” Party commented with a scowl.
“I don’t know why you’re being critical, Poison, you wear a mask yourself, don’t you? For all the good it did you. There are very few people who don’t know your face, and finally, it’s going to work against you,” the woman smirked.

Party felt a flash of anger burning inside him and instantly he knew he was down but not beaten. It took all the effort he had not to break into a smile at the knowledge that he was perhaps not as broken as Korse thought. But, it would serve his purpose to make them believe he was. Maybe they would lower their guard if they thought he was defeated? It was a humiliation he was prepared to suffer if it helped him escape.

“What do you want?” He grumbled, drawing his knees up to his chest as he sat atop the bed.
“My name is Doctor Fielding and I understand you have some sort of lung infection. I'm here to treat you.”
“Why are you even keeping me alive?” Party asked without looking up.
“I have no answer to that,” she snapped. “Exterminator Korse has decided that you’re still useful for something, so he wants you alive and well. Personally, I cannot imagine what use a rebel would be. Even one of your infamy.”
“If you’re here to cure me, then do it and leave me alone!” Party snapped.
“The rebels must be a weak rabble to follow you. You’re pathetic!”

Party held his temper; he wondered if she was actually trying to goad him into a response. Was it a test? Was Korse watching, checking to see if he was truly broken? Well, if he was, he was going to give him the performance of a lifetime.

He glanced up, a pained, distressed expression on his face - if he could cry on demand, he would have, but the best he had was a look of sheer desperation.

“Do what you’re here to do and get out and leave me alone!” He yelled, dropping his head onto his knees. “If you killed me it would be better than this! Locked up in here, no friends, no colour, no life! I thought I’d taken all the torture he had to offer, but this is the worst!”

Party's shoulders shook lightly as if he were crying and he heard the doctor chuckle. Pushing his hands against his eyes, pretending to wipe his tears away, Party looked bleakly up.

“What do you want from me?”
“Want? Nothing. Perhaps I expected more from the renowned Party Poison. You’re actually quite disappointing.”
“Well I'm sorry I've let you down,” he sighed as he looked away.
“On the contrary,” she smiled. “I do believe we have exactly what we wanted, just quicker than expected.”

Party sighed again; it was killing him to act so meek but it would be worth it if it helped him escape.

“Take these,” she finally thrust a small dispensing cup of three tablets towards him. “There’s water on your night stand.”

Party took the cup in his left hand and stared inside at the small pills. Two round white tablets and one capsule.

“What are they?” He asked quietly.
“What good will it do you to know? You’re not a doctor.”
“I was taking Genezen and Ademen before,” he replied without explanation.
“Oh,” she laughed. “Genezen! That’s such an antiquated drug. The capsule is Bryzik, you’ll be fine in no time.”
“What are the others?”
“Varsill,” she replied, only continuing when Party raised an eyebrow. “You are quite run down you know and they’ll help the Bryzik to work and stop you contracting further infections. Think of them as similar to vitamins. I very much doubt you eat well in the desert, it’s hardly surprising you got so ill.”
“And if I don’t take them?” He asked with some suspicion, as he noticed her tone seemed to almost warm towards him.
“Take them, Poison,” she replied, adopting her previous tone.

Behind her, one of the men cocked the rifle he held and lowered it to point threateningly at him.

“You’re going to a lot of trouble not to kill me,” Party observed. “Why would I think you’d shoot me?”

Leaning forward, Fielding took the small cup of pills from the now perplexed Party.

“Shoot,” she ordered.
“No!”

Party's eyes widened in horror; he had not expected the sudden change of heart. The BLI operative squeezed the trigger releasing a stream of purple light, hitting Party squarely in the chest causing him to shake violently. The burst of light was brief but devastating. Party collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for breath, still twitching and dazed.

“That was level three, but the range is one to ten,” she explained. “These rifles can deliver individual pulses or continuous streams for up to twenty seconds. A ten second burst on eight will kill you. In your condition, a ten second burst on five probably would. I suggest you take the tablets, Poison or you will regret it, I assure you.”

Pushing the cup into Party’s hand once more, she watched as he poured himself a beaker of water with shaking hands. Satisfied that he had swallowed the pills, Fielding added:

“Someone will bring you some food soon, I expect you’re hungry.”

Party nodded; it had been so long since he had eaten - the meagre breakfast the day he had met Red was the last time and he remembered that, even by his standards, he had eaten very little.

“Oh, and your companion will return shortly too.”
“Companion?” Party was shocked by how quiet his voice emerged as he spoke.
“The green porno-droid,” she explained. “You’re going to be here for the rest of your life, Poison. You’re going to need a companion; we’re not cruel here at BLI, you know.”
“No,” Party shook his head, unimpressed by the statement. “Not cruel at all.”
“Get some sleep, the Bryzik will probably make you sleep anyway,” she added before she and the two men left the room leaving Party alone once more.

He looked around the room, taking it in for the first time. It was a very simple affair. Entirely white with a bed, night stand and a jug of water with a beaker. Another door drew his attention but as he rose to see what lay beyond, his eyes rolled back in their sockets and the room spun. Suddenly weak and dizzy, Party lay back. The other door would have to wait; he was unconscious in moments.

*

Kobra opened the door to the trans am and waved for Red to take a seat in the back.

“After you,” he said with a wink.

Ghoul looked at Jet, who returned with the same expression; Kobra always rode shotgun or wanted to drive in Party’s absence. He was as fast and aggressive behind the wheel as Party was, both of them able to make the car do things that few would dare. But today, his eye for the road was very firmly fixed on Red.

“Kobra?” Jet called into the car from the driver’s side door. “Your head’s in the game, right?”
“My head is right where it needs to be, Jet.”
“Yeah, that’s what I'm worried about!”

Ghoul couldn’t help but chuckle at the innuendo as he took his place alongside Jet in the front passenger seat. Looking at Jet, he could see the mild frustration in his eyes as he heard giggling from the rear seat. A distraction might be in order.

“So, Red,” Ghoul began. “You never did tell us how you know Kobra. Or maybe you did, was that some other huge revelation I missed?”
“No, Ghoul,” Red laughed. “You didn’t miss it. When I thought all my family had been killed,” she leaned forward and squeezed Jet’s shoulder lightly, “I was taken by BLI to their marketing department. I told you that. They housed me with some other children and I was allowed to choose an activity. The choice was ballet or martial arts. Well, there was no way they were going to get me in a tutu, so I opted for martial arts. Mikey… sorry, Kobra had been there a while and was already so advanced he was actually teaching the beginners.”
“Scarlet was my best student,” he grinned. “She really practised hard every day. Even when when we didn’t have lessons.”
“It’s good to have two martial arts experts on the team!” Ghoul turned to look behind and smiled broadly at them.
“Ghoul,” Jet mused. “You ended up in BLI, didn’t you?”
“Er, yeah,” Ghoul replied slowly, concerned about where the conversation was heading. “Why?”
“Well, I can't help noticing that you’re not trained in martial arts,” Jet continued with a smirk now firmly fixed on his face.
“No, I'm not,” he replied now staring out of the window.
“Ghoul?”
“Yes, Jet?” Ghoul sighed with exasperation.
“Did you learn ballet?” Jet chuckled.
“Yes, I did, and no, I never wore a tutu!”
“All these years! How long have we known you? And not once did I ever see you do a pirouette. You kept that a closely guarded secret, didn’t you?” Jet laughed.
“I wasn’t very good at it at first,” Ghoul shrugged, embarrassed to have all eyes on him. “They said I danced like a zombie. But I got better.”
“Is that where you got your name from?”
“Yeah,” Ghoul sighed again. “But don’t ever mention this again! Please!”
“There are good aspects,” Red chimed in. “I bet you’re very flexible.”
“Lucky Party!” Kobra laughed loudly.
“Oh, very funny!” Ghoul snapped. “But yes, he is lucky! All right, snake boy, where does your name come from then?”

Kobra’s smile faded slowly to a frown. The blood draining out of his face as he retrieved a long forgotten, almost obliterated memory. Playing with Gerard, Korse, no Uncle Grant…Dad?

“No!” He screamed suddenly. “Stop the car! Stop the car!”

Jet turned horrified by the terror in Kobra’s voice and yet more in his eyes. Slamming the brakes hard, Jet brought the car to a screeching halt. Tumbling out, Kobra leaned heavily against the back wheel and lost what little remained in his stomach. Sinking to his knees, he gasped for breath, tears streaming down his face.

“Kobra,” Red placed an arm comfortingly around his shoulders as Ghoul and Jet joined her at his side. “What’s wrong?”
“Korse,” he choked out. “He killed my dad, right in front of us. Right in front of us!”
“That’s the nightmare that Party keeps having,” Ghoul suddenly made sense of why Party never wanted to discuss it.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Kobra sat back, wiping the salty water from his eyes and cheeks.
“What’s worse than that?” Jet asked, bewildered.
“Korse,” Kobra shook his head. “He’s our uncle.”

A stunned silence followed. Red pulled Kobra close to her as she comforted him. Jet and Ghoul merely shared glances; it certainly explained his preoccupation with Party.

“Does Party know?” Red asked quietly.
Ghoul took a deep breath. “If I had to guess, I'd say yes.”
“Damn,” Jet shook his head, blindsided by the news. “That’s a hell of a secret to carry around.”

Notes

Hi!! Thanks for reading. I hope you're still enjoying it. If so, feel free to drop me a line. It's always good to hear from you. Sas xx