The Collector

Bringing the car to a halt in a quiet corner of the staff car park, Fielding switched off the engine and turned around hesitantly.

“This might be a mistake, but I think you should come inside with me.”

Pushing himself up so that he now sat on the back seat, Party leaned through the gap in the two front seats.

“Why would it be a mistake?” He asked innocently.
“You might be recognised,” Fielding replied, not looking him in the eyes.
“Who’s going to recognise me?” Party laughed, genuinely amused by the suggestion.
“Gerard, I'm going to tell you something. It's important, but you mustn't panic, okay?”

Party frowned; he wondered what on earth could she be about to say that would make him panic.

“You remember I called you Party before you told me to call you Gerard?”
“Yeah?” Party drew out the word not knowing what to expect.
“Well, your memory has been altered. You call yourself Party Poison and you’re the leader of a group of rebels, fighting BLI.”
“I’m ten,” he replied flatly, as if waiting for an explanation of a missed punchline.
“Ah, yes… that’s the other thing.” Fielding lowered her eyes once more.
“What?” Party narrowed his eyes, leaning forward again, uncertain how to react.

About to speak, Fielding had second thoughts and leaning to reach behind herself and engaged the door locks. At the click, Party turned his head sharply to look at the rear passenger doors before immediately trying the handles, but the doors remained firmly locked. Turning back, he tried to force his way through the gap between the front seats, but Fielding braced herself against the dashboard and was able to push him backwards onto the seat. Repeating the action as he tried again.

“Stay put!” She snapped. “I knew this would happen, that's why I locked the doors.”
“I’m trying to get out because you locked the doors!”
“I don’t want you running off.”
“Uncle Grant was right!” He growled. “What do you want from me?”
“He was not right! Don’t be so melodramatic! He was trying to destroy you and I rescued you! The only reason I've locked the doors is because when I tell you what I have to tell you, I'm worried you’ll panic and run. And I do not want to run through the streets of Nystad chasing a wanted man, who might well have friends here. I don’t want either of us getting shot! Do you understand?”

Her voice was raised and her breathing quickened, but the look on Party’s face forced her to calm herself once more. Of course, with panic came fear and it was clearly displayed on Party’s face as his concerned eyes met hers.

“M-man?” Party stammered. “B-but I… I'm ten!”

Party looked down. It was as if he had only just noticed his own body. The length of his legs, the size of his hands and the hair on his arms were certainly not those of a ten year old. Somehow his mind had told him that nothing was out of the ordinary and he hadn’t questioned it for a moment. Lowering his eyes further, he glanced with curiosity at his crotch and moving a hand from the side of the front seat to investigate further, he was suddenly distracted by a voice.

“Gerard?”

Party’s head snapped up, his face flushed with embarrassment and guilt. As he did, he caught his reflection in the rear view mirror. It wasn’t his face; the pronounced cheekbones, dark eyes, pale skin, long bright red hair and he needed to shave. He was definitely not ten.
Falling back into the seat once more, Party merely gaped. Words swirled in his mind, some forming partial sentences, but each one slipped away before he could voice them. Eventually he managed only two whispered words.

“What happened?”

Fielding looked down and sighed heavily with a slight shake of her head as she considered how to explain it to him.

“What happened to me?” He yelled, forcing the doctor to look sharply up in surprise.

Her expression of shock at the response once again changed Party’s own. He shrank back into the seat and lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, staring at his knees.

Fielding reached through the gap between the seats and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Don’t be sorry,” she dipped her head to try to make eye-contact with him. “This is a good sign I think.”
“I’m not ten, am I?” Party sighed. “How old am I? And… and why do I think…”
“No, you're not ten and I'm sorry, I don’t know how old you are. Mid twenties maybe?”
“I’m old!” He drew out the word and found himself chuckling lightly at the idea.
“Your last question, I can answer. You’ve been drugged and sort of hypnotised to take you back to a vulnerable age when you were frightened.”
“Why?” Party asked.

The innocent question caused Fielding’s features to soften. How could she tell him that his uncle was so cruel and evil that he had intended to pump him full of drugs until he lost his mind and reason? Doomed to live out the rest of his life with only two terrifying memories.

“He’s not himself,” she hypothesised. “What he was doing to you, I suspect someone has already done to him.”
“He was always good to us,” Party looked down, sadly. “But that night… when he…”
“I’m sorry, Gerard,” she squeezed his hand once more. “I think the Uncle Grant you knew was gone long before that night. He’s Exterminator Korse now.”

Party nodded; somehow it comforted him to think that the man he knew as a boy was not the evil, callous man from whom they had just escaped.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper, but why did you think it was a good thing?”
“Well, it looks as though the programming might be reversing on its own. You're asserting your adult self and because of that, you're surprising your child self. I think you must have been a very good boy.”
Party nodded. “I try. Doctor, I feel strange… am I supposed to?”
“Strange how?”

Party lifted a hand to show that he was noticeably trembling. His normally pale skin seemed to have taken on a greyish tinge and she could now see that his brow was damp.

“I feel sick,” he explained. “And dizzy.”
“I think we need to get you inside.”

*

Kobra was driving and the needle on the tachometer was buried firmly in the red. Ghoul was grimacing; he understood, he even approved but he also knew that he would also be the one who had to fix the engine when the time came.

Outside the trans am, sand whirled, disturbed by the wheels as Kobra pushed the car beyond its normal capabilities. All windows were closed to protect them from the choking tornadoes of dust and debris that formed as they passed. Inside, the morning heat was magnified, intensifying their focus and strengthening their determination to succeed.

“Are we clear on the plan?” Jet asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Kobra replied without taking his eyes off the road for a moment.
“You’re sure he can get us in undetected?” Ghoul asked.
“If anyone can, it’s Coffin,” Jet nodded with certainty.

A thick calm settled over the occupants of the car as they focused on the task ahead of them. Red chewed her lower lip; she wanted to ask a question, but the serious determination on the faces of the three men gave her pause. Glancing in the rear view mirror, Kobra fixed her with a curious glance before raising an eyebrow.

“Go on, you can ask,” he smirked.
“I know,” Red replied, matching his amused expression.
“Well?” Kobra pressed, glancing in the mirror again.
“I know the plan, but I’m wondering who this Coffin Dancer guy is?”
“Ghoul, do you want to field this one?” Kobra began. “It might take your mind off what I’m doing to the engine.” He added with a cheeky sideways glance.

Ghoul sighed; was his expression and concern so blatant? Clearly the answer was yes, but more than that, he realised with a slight frown, Kobra knew it annoyed him and still did it anyway. Today was an exception though - today it was allowed. Ghoul half turned in his seat so that he could look into the back - this was going to take some explaining.

“Coffin is…” he paused as he tried to find the right words. “He’s like…”
“Harder to describe than Kami?” Red offered.
“Oh,” A short laugh burst from Ghoul’s lips. “Yeah, he is. Jet?”

Jet rolled his eyes; he had seen the deflection coming with the same inevitability as the collision of two trains rushing towards each other on the same track.

“Coffin is like…” he paused.
“Okay! I get it! He’s like nothing else on earth.” Red shook her head, bewildered by the lack of information. “I have to meet this guy!”
“No!” Jet replied immediately with a panicked tone.
“No, you don’t!” Kobra responded almost at the same time.
“Not a good idea,” Ghoul agreed.
“What’s going on?” Red asked. “Who is he?”
“He works for BLI, he’s a draculoid. Or… at least, he poses as one,” Jet explained.
“What?” Red narrowed her eyes. “You can’t pose as a draculoid! The tech in the masks… you can’t fight that.”
“He’s made his own,” Ghoul explained. “It looks real, but…”
“So he says,” Red scoffed.
“Wow!” Kobra shook his head slowly. “You’re even more paranoid than Party!”
“Party’s not paranoid,” Ghoul grumbled. “He’s careful.”
“Fat lot of good that’s done him!” Red scowled. “I can’t believe you trust a drac!”
“I told you, he’s not a drac,” Jet insisted. “He’s kind of a rebel sympathiser. He’s sometimes referred to as The Sad Man. He gives us tip offs of prisoner transfers and shipments.”
“How?” Red folded her arms as Jet tried to explain.
“He meets us in the desert at night, usually once a month to six weeks. It’s not regular, so he doesn’t attract attention.”
“Why’s he called the Sad Man?”
“Because he’s about the only BLI drone who isn’t taking their drugs and all happy happy.”
“And why Coffin Dancer?” Red asked, more subdued but still not entirely happy with the responses.
“Because he’s got more lives than a sack full of cats. Somehow, no matter what, the man is Dust Proof!”
“Legend has it that he’s got something going on with the Phoenix Witch, so she doesn’t take him,” Ghoul added.
“Really?” Red frowned unimpressed.
“No, not really,” Jet replied, mildly irritated by Ghoul’s flippancy.
“So, a drac who magically survives every dangerous encounter is getting us into Bat City through a secret tunnel entrance used for prisoner transfers. So we’re effectively driving straight into BLI’s cells and it’s not a trap?”
“Well,” Jet rolled his eyes, “when you say it like that…”
“It’s not a trap,” Ghoul insisted, adopting what he hoped sounded like a serious and certain tone. “If he was going to do that, he’d have done it years ago.”

Red cleared her throat loudly, making a sound that sounded distinctly like ‘Candi’.

“Then we’ll be careful,” Kobra suggested quietly. “We have to get in there somehow and this is as good a method as any. If it’s a trap, it’s no worse than trying to fight our way in and out through the front doors. That would be suicide!”
“Agreed,” Jet added.
“Yeah, okay,” Red nodded.
“Sure?” Jet asked, lifting a questioning eyebrow.
“Well,” Red smiled, “when you say it like that…”

Smiling at the response, Jet squeezed his sister’s hand. He liked that she had her own thoughts and ideas, that she questioned decisions to make sense of them or even improve them. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest. She was a Toro - brave, analytical and a little wilful at times - she was fitting in well.

“Hang on, that still doesn't explain why you don't want me to meet him.”

Ghoul pursed his lips' he genuinely believed they had sidestepped that question.

“It’s not that we don’t want…” Kobra began slowly, desperately trying to think of a plausible reason.
“He's not a sympathiser at all, is he?” Red asked pointedly. “What is he? Mercenary? Double agent? Plant?”

An awkward silence hung in the car for a few moments before Red prompted again.

“Well?”
“All of the above.”
“Ghoul!” Jet gasped, shocked at the ease at which he gave up.
“What?” Ghoul turned again in his seat to look at Jet. “Her own imagination is going to assume worse if we say nothing.”
“Worse? Are you sure about that?” Jet snapped, his mouth turned down into an irritated and angry grimace.
“You still don't trust me!” Red fumed, crossing her arms indignantly.
“What?” Jet replied, genuinely astonished. “No! It's him.”
“Sorry, I'm confused,” Red’s voice grew in volume and pitch as she became increasingly frustrated. “You don't trust this guy but you're still driving us all into the cells?”
“No!” Jet replied, exasperated. “It's not…”
“We don't want to see your face on a wanted poster, or worse, an extermination poster,” Kobra interrupted to finally explain.
“But…” Red frowned now deeply confused. “Why would he… I mean…?”
“You were right calling him a mercenary,” Ghoul spoke softly. “We pay him, so do BLI, so does anyone who wants information.”
“He’ll sell information to anyone?” Red asked.
“Pretty much,” Ghoul nodded with a shrug. “I reckon BLI know about his custom made mask too. He gives them information on us, he gives us information on them.”
“And you trust him, why?”
“Well,” Kobra offered a lopsided smile as he looked in the mirror once more, “he has some standards, you know. He only ever works for one side at any given time.”
“Wow!” Red shook her head at the revelation. “I really can't believe I'm hearing this.”
“Welcome to our world.” Ghoul shrugged. “If it's any consolation, we can't believe it either!”

*

Exterminator Korse looked up at the rap on his office door. He had only just returned from his humiliating experience of having been taken at gunpoint by Fielding as she helped Party Poison escape. Having been knocked unconscious and left unguarded in his own car in the underground car park, he was simply thankful to have woken up. There were many who hated him enough to kill and he knew he had his team to thank for finding him so quickly but he burned with anger at what she had put him through. He had still been unconscious when he was found and escorted back to BLI headquarters and although he was relatively unhurt, his pride was severely dented. He had lost face and he was determined that both Party and Fielding would pay dearly for that. The knock at the door could only be one of two things - Party and Fielding had been located or the Killjoys were on their way. He didn’t mind which; either would return the smile to his face.

Notes

Hi lovely readers!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was fun to write - another one of those that took a surprising turn that I wasn't expecting. But, hey, it does that sometimes.

Anyway, if you liked it, feel free to drop me a comment :)

Take care
Sas xx