The Collector

Jet had been driving for almost fifteen minutes; the tension in the car thick and palpable. After the revelation that Korse was Party and Kobra’s uncle, a pall of disquiet had settled over the group and nobody wanted to be the first to speak. Eventually it was Kobra who broke the silence, his voice hoarse and subdued.

“Can someone tell me why we’re driving away from Battery City?”
“Because we haven’t slept in two days and charging into BLI with slowed responses is suicidal.”
“I’ve slept,” Kobra retorted with an angry undertone. “So has Ghoul.”

Jet rolled his eyes forgetting that Kobra would be able to see his reflection in the rear view mirror. Kobra’s eyes widened and he reached forward shoving Jet’s seat, incandescent with rage.

“Stop the fucking car, Jet! Stop it now! If you haven’t got the guts to go after Party, I will!”
“Kobra, no,” Red intervened, pulling his arm back only to be swept aside by the livid Killjoy.

Furious, Jet practically stood on the brake, throwing them all forward in their seats before being flung back again once more as the trans am came to an abrupt stop. Jet’s seatbelt was unfastened and the car door was flung open before the others had even stopped moving.

“Jet!” Red shouted, shocked to recognise the same expression of fury in his face as she would sometimes show in her own.

Ghoul turned in his seat to see Kobra unbuckling his seatbelt, his face an intense mask of rage.

“Calm down, man, you don’t…”

Before he even managed to finish his sentence, the passenger side door was being wrenched open and Jet had reached in, hauling Kobra out by his jacket. Keeping his arms low, Jet prevented the younger man from straightening up before throwing him back against the car.

“You’re not the only one who cares about Party but if you want to be a dick, you go right ahead. Go get yourself killed, Kobra but do not push my sister, ever! Do you understand me?” He yelled holding Kobra’s shoulders, keeping him pressed back against the body of the car.
“If you fucking cared about Party, you’d be heading in the opposite direction!” Kobra screamed back.

Batting Jet’s arms away, Kobra lowered his shoulder and barrelled into him, sending the pair to the ground. Jet raised his knee, pressing it against Kobra’s chest ready to force him back, but the younger man was quicker. Pushing Jet’s leg to the side, across his body, Kobra forced Jet to roll over onto his front. Pulling his right arm back and sitting astride him, Kobra forced Jet’s head down, pinning him to the ground.

“If it was Red in there, you’d be in there already, wouldn’t you!” He growled, forcing Jet’s face into the dirt.

With a grunt of effort and determination Jet pressed his right knee into the ground using his weight advantage to give himself enough leverage to twist his body and throw Kobra off and to his left, forcing Ghoul to shuffle quickly backwards to avoid being knocked flat. This had been something Ghoul had seen coming for a long time. Kobra was feeling frustrated, angry and guilty, believing that this whole scenario had occurred because of his temper and reckless actions. The irony had occurred to Ghoul that that was exactly what was playing out now, but it had clearly not occurred to Kobra.

“Ghoul,” Red snapped. “How about you stop smirking and help me stop this?”

Ghoul shrugged, keeping the smirk; Kobra probably needed to get it out of his system, he did feel sorry for Jet though.

“Sorry, not me,” he shook his head. “Ballet, remember?”

Red shook her head angrily. “Well at least keep Jet back,” she snapped, earning a chuckle in reply.

Rushing forward as Kobra moved to stand, she grabbed an arm, set her balance standing at an angle to him and with only the smallest movement, she lifted him easily and deposited him back on the ground, still holding his arm and twisting it lightly to keep him still.

“Enough!” She snapped, glaring down at Kobra as he tried to manoeuvre out of her grip. “I don’t want to hurt you Kobra, stay still!”
“Thanks!” Jet growled as he headed toward the downed man.
“Hey!” Ghoul intervened, placing both hands on Jet’s chest. “That was to both of you! What’s the matter with you? Both of you!” Ghoul looked between the two men who were thankfully now starting to calm. “Get back in the car and let’s go. We’re out in the open here. If a drac patrol came by right now, we’d be dead!”

The words finally filtered through both men’s angry haze. Jet nodded first, calming visibly. Stepping forward, he held out his hand as Red let go of Kobra’s arm and helped the younger man to his feet.

“I get you’re concerned,” he admitted. “I do, but you’ve been tortured, so has Ghoul and Red and I haven’t slept at all. We need to be sharp or we’re not getting anybody out of anywhere.”
Kobra nodded. “I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “It’s just, I…” Kobra waved his arms at his sides in an expression of helplessness. He couldn’t even find the words to convey his distress.
“You blame yourself,” Red completed the unfinished sentence. “We know. But we also know that it isn’t your fault! This was all down to Candi and Ice, it would have happened anyway. Accept it!”
“And the first taken would have been you and Party!” Ghoul added.
“Yeah,” Kobra sighed. “I know. I just feel so helpless.”
“Look, we’ll get some rest, something to eat and tomorrow we’ll be far from helpless, yeah?” Jet nodded for emphasis, placing a comforting hand on Kobra’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” Red asked.
“Sleep on a friend’s floor,” Jet replied with a smile.
“We can trust this one, can we?” Red asked, somewhat sceptical.

Jet let out a short laugh and scratched his head.

“How would you describe Kami Kazee?” Jet looked at Ghoul who merely laughed in response.
“Oh, don't bother,” Red shook her head. “'I think I've got the idea.”
“She’ll look after us in her own special way, don’t worry,” Jet smiled, running his fingers through his hair, encouraging another throaty chuckle from Ghoul.

*

Doctor Fielding entered Party's cell. With her, were two guards, but she was more than aware that they wouldn’t be required; he was deeply unconscious from the effects of the Bryzik. She stared at him for a few moments, wondering how this handsome, slender, flame-haired man could possibly be the cause of so much anger in Korse. Yes, the Killjoys were infamous for their escapades; theft, freeing prisoners, attacking BLI patrols and general disruption. But it seemed that this one man was the focus of too much anger to be justified by the rebel group’s actions. There was clearly more to it than that, but at the moment, her concern was merely to assist in breaking him and the first step was to restrain him.

“Ankles, wrists and neck,” she ordered.

Standing back, she watched as the guards fastened straps around him, pulling them tight before securing them.

“Loosen the one on the neck, you fool!” she snapped as Party’s face began to darken. “Unless you want to explain to Exterminator Korse how you killed his prisoner.”

The guard who had fastened the strap around Party’s neck hastily adjusted it until it hung loose enough for him to be able to place a gloved finger easily between the strap and his neck. Looking up, seeking approval, he breathed a sigh of relief when Fielding nodded.

“You can leave now,” she added, inspecting the strength and firmness of the restraints.
“We’re not supposed to leave you, Doctor,” one of the guards replied respectfully.
“What do you imagine he’s going to do?” She pointed to him. “I’m quite safe.”

Sitting on the edge of the small bed, she opened a small case and withdrew a syringe already filled with a clear liquid. As she pressed the plunger to ease a few drops out, she looked up irritably to see the two guards still in the room with her.

“Can’t you wait outside?” She asked.
“No, ma’am, Exterminator Korse’s orders. He’s dangerous, ma’am.”

Fielding looked down at the young man lying restrained and still unconscious in front of her and found herself wondering if the guard was referring to the prisoner or to Korse.

“Well, can you at least wait by the door?”
“Yes, ma’am.”

Waiting until the guards had retreated to stand by the door, Fielding inserted the syringe into Party's arm. Discarding the used syringe into a secure compartment within the case after injecting him with Hallsig, Fielding watched as within only a few moments, Party's eyes began to slowly open.

“Tell me, Poison,” Fielding began. “What drives you to rebel? What on earth was missing from your life in Battery City for you to prefer a life of pain and semi-starvation out in the desert?”

Party shook his head, only now feeling the restraint around his neck. Instinctively he tried to reach for it, only to discover the additional restraints, first on his wrists and then his ankles. He laughed bitterly.

“Freedom,” he answered with a scowl, pulling at the strap around his right wrist as if to draw her attention to it. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“You weren’t a prisoner when you left,” she replied calmly only to be surprised as Party fixed her with sadness clear in his eyes.
“And the problem is, you genuinely believe that.”
“You’re implying that I’m a prisoner too?”
“When you went to medical school, did you hope to cure people or were you studying thinking, I hope one day I'll work for an evil organisation and be torturing prisoners for a living?” Seeing the change in her expression, Party continued; he was in lecture mode. “Do you even know what BLI do to people out in the Zones? They’re starving them. I'm not even talking about rebels, I'm talking about good hard working people, just trying to get by and raise their families, but they can’t because BLI are killing them. They send drac patrols out to kill, beat or capture anyone outside of the townships, wearing a colour or daring to think for themselves. It doesn’t even matter if they’re drifters, just keeping to themselves. And what you call rebels, I call freedom-fighters. We fight for everyone’s right to think and live how they want. To raise their families peacefully and in security and happiness.”
“You’re a terrorist, Poison! You steal from BLI, you attack and kill draculoid patrols, you are trying to destroy a system that works!” She snapped back.
“Works!” He raged. “Did you become a doctor to pump all people so full of mind altering drugs they could feel nothing? All emotions removed from them? Shuffling through their lives on autopilot? No love, no laughter, no passion?”
“No violence, no greed, no anger?” She retorted.
“No violence?”

He shook his head as much as he was able. The anger, rage and bitterness he had felt for so long was pouring out of him now. No longer able to feign meekness, Party was screaming with fury.

“You don't think what you're doing to me is violent? Was it not violent when Korse shot my father in front of me when I was ten just because he didn’t want to work for BLI?”

Fielding visibly gasped at his final words as tears streamed down his face once more as the memory flooded his mind and he was finally able to grieve.

“You don’t take the drugs, I can tell, well not all of them anyway. You couldn't do your job if you did. That means you’re doing this by choice! No one is forcing you. You trained as a healer and you're only bringing pain, terror and destruction and you dare to call me a terrorist?”

The door opened to reveal Korse, his expression cold and furious.

“Doctor Fielding,” his voice was clipped. “You will come with me, now!”

Notes

Hello lovely readers! I hope you're still enjoying this. I'd love to hear from you so if you have the time to leave a comment, it would be greatly appreciated!

Thanks and take care
Sas xx