The Collector

Party’s eyes flew open and he turned his head sharply as his right arm was pulled sharply back from where it lay, draped over Ghoul’s waist.

“Ghoul!” Party shouted, desperate to wake the younger man. Though what he expected him to do, he wasn’t certain.

Dragged from the bed, Party instinctively glanced down to his holster, cursing under his breath as he saw it still lay empty. Landing awkwardly, his arm wrenched painfully, Party cried out in pain moments before the second draculoid grabbed his left arm and pulled him to his feet. Struggling in their grip, Party swore again as he realised that days without food was compromising his ability to fight back.

“Well, Harrison,” Korse began, turning to the nervous doctor, busy trying to be invisible. “You’ve been very useful. You’ve delivered the Killjoys, their newest recruit and Dr Fielding. I could almost forgive your transgressions.”
“A-almost?” He stammered in reply. “But... but I thought...”
“You thought he’d let you live?” Party growled, pulling once more in the draculoids’ grip.
“But... Exterminator Korse... sir, I did what you asked... I...”
“You did, indeed,” Korse sneered. “So, why on earth do I need you now?”
“N-no...” Harrison raised his hands in a pleading gesture. “I can still help,” He gabbled. “The research... I can do the research you wanted.”
“There are many doctors in your field, Harrison. Doctors who are loyal to BLI.”
“No, please!” Harrison begged. “I’ll do anything!”
“Do you even realise the position you’re in?” Korse gave an unpleasant chuckle. “If I don’t kill you, your new friends will. You’ve betrayed them as you did me. So, tell me, Harrison, who would you prefer to be killed by?”

Harrison turned panicked eyes toward Party, noting the look of disgust couched on his face.

“You... you understand, don’t you?” Harrison reached out towards Party in a pleading gesture. “I had no choice. He was going to... You... I mean... you wouldn’t would you?”
“Kill you?” Party growled bitterly. “In a heartbeat, you coward!”
“B-but... no... I...”

Harrison looked from Party to Korse and paled significantly as he fully realised his situation. Dead at the hands of BLI or rebels was still dead. Turning quickly, Harrison bolted for the door; bursting through, almost slipping and half falling to one knee in his terror. Scrambling to his feet once more, Harrison raced down the corridor, seized by panic.

“Coward!” Party screamed after him, frustrated that when faced with death he still hadn’t found the courage to fight.
“He won’t get far,” Korse chuckled to himself. “I wonder who will kill him,” he mused. “After all, he’s been instrumental in your capture.”
“I’m not back at BLI yet, Korse,” Party replied with contempt.
“No, but you will be,” Korse’s lips formed an ugly sneer at the idea. “And, of course, we will have a new and much more effective way to control you.”
“You will never control me!” Party spat, infuriated by Korse’s gloating tone.
“Oh, really?” Korse took two steps closer to the bed, leaning on the frame at its foot. “Not even now that we have the perfect hostage to force you to submit.”

Party’s eyes flew open in panic at the realisation as to what, or rather whom, Korse was referring.

“No!” He yelled, pulling hard against the firm grip of the draculoids in his frustration, but to no avail.
“It’s pointless resisting, Poison, you’re far too weak.” Korse shook his head and offered a disparaging laugh. “And, don’t forget, your lover is injured and helpless.”
“You’re half right, Korse,” a tired voice, tinged with a slight slurring, corrected him.

Korse frowned as he saw the sheets on the bed lift, Ghoul’s arm extended beneath it, with what might have been a gun in his hand pointing directly at the Exterminator. Korse’s frown deepened, his lips flattening into a thin line, as he realised that neither of the draculoids had yet drawn a weapon - each using both hands to hold Party’s arms tightly.

“You expect me to believe that you have a gun in your hand?” Korse scoffed, sounding surprisingly confident and mocking.
“I don’t care what you believe,” Ghoul replied in a cold threatening tone. “Let Party go, or I’ll ghost you.”

Still in the draculoids grip, Party could sense their uncertainty. Not yet in restraints, he suppressed a smirk as he felt their hold loosen, only by a fraction but definitely noticeable. Readying himself to break free, Party waited for the right moment. The last thing he want to do was cause a commotion that might distract Ghoul and return the advantage to Korse.

“Oh, I don’t think so. You’re weak, Ghoul,” Korse sneered. “Physically... and mentally. You don’t have a gun and even if you did, you wouldn’t shoot. Put Poison in restraints, then do the same with this.”

Korse nodded toward Ghoul with an expression of utter disdain, twisting his features into a cross between a scowl and a contemptuous sneer.

“Let him go!” Ghoul yelled angrily. “I’m not making an idle threat here, Korse! Are you really prepared to die? And I mean properly die! Not what they do to you at BLI.”

Korse shook his head lightly and laughed.

“Carry out my orders!” He demanded, glaring at the draculoids. “If he had a gun under that sheet...” he paused to sneer at Ghoul, “... it wouldn’t still be under the sheet.”

Party glanced at Ghoul who looked briefly back, an expression of despair in the younger man’s eyes. Korse had been right - he had been bluffing. What hurt even more was that he was indeed also injured and helpless.

“See?” Korse laughed again as one of the draculoids fastened a set of restraints firmly around Party’s wrists. “I’ve won, Poison. By now, the girl, Jet Star and Kobra Kid are all either captured or dead and now I have you and the means to control you.”

Ghoul, now with his arm lowered, turned a wide-eyed look of disbelief toward Party at the suggestion that the others and, in particular, Kobra might be dead.

“No,” Party replied quietly. “No way are they dead. No way, Korse.”

Korse laughed cruelly.

“No? Don’t worry your pretty little head, Poison. If not already dead, they will be, very soon and I fully intend to show you their bodies before we leave. I’m sure their deaths will be as pathetic as their lives, lying in pools of their own blood. Failures in death as well as life.”

Party screamed and pulled hard as he raged against his captors’ hold on him. Almost breaking free at one point, Party’s strength only seemed to build as Korse’s laughter filled the room.

“I’ll kill you Korse!” He screamed, incandescent with rage.
“How?” Korse gloated. “I have you in chains and you have no weapon. Either of you.”
“He might not have one, but I do,” a voice uttered the quiet threat, an icy edge to each word. “In fact, we all do.”

Pushing the door a little further open, Kobra Kid stepped inside flanked by Red and Jet Star, all with weapons drawn and, from their expressions, the determination to use them. Kobra’s stare was harsh and bitter; barely blinking as he shoved Korse back against the wall and levelled his gun at the BLI Exterminator.

“Please, give me a reason to shoot.” Kobra spoke in a cold, measured tone, leaving no doubt in Korse’s mind of the level of bitter hatred he felt towards him. “Any reason will do. Anything at all.”

Korse stared back, tight-lipped and furious. He had felt certain that with the advantage of surprise, his man would have dispatched or even captured them by now. But here he was again, with the tables turned and at the mercy of rebels.

Entering the room fully, Jet pushed the draculoids away from Party, who quickly moved to Ghoul’s bedside. Jet stared at the two draculoids, almost as if making a decision. Moments later, he fired two blasts of his ray gun and the pair fell lifeless to the floor. Inhaling deeply, Jet knelt to find the keys to the restraints.

“You okay, Party?” Kobra called back without taking his eyes from Korse even for a second.
“I’m fine,” Party replied as Jet approached with the key and removing the restraints quickly.
“Have you told him, Poison?” Korse smirked, staring unblinking at Kobra. “Our little secret?”

Kobra shoved Korse, pressing him hard against the wall and forcing his gun into the soft skin of his neck.

“What secret?” Kobra growled, his voice laden with bitterness. “That you used to be our uncle? That you killed our dad? That you tortured us to try to make us forget?”
“I succeeded with you,” Korse replied, his eyes gleaming with pride.

With a guttural scream of hatred and frustration, Kobra, pulled his arm back and swept his gun across Korse’s face, licking his lips in irritation as he failed to react.

“BLI drained every last drop of feeling out of you, didn’t they?”
“Kobra?”

Red began gently, concerned for both his heightened emotions and his safety. Yes, the young Killjoy was more than capable of handling himself, but Korse was... Well he was something of an unknown quantity.

“Stay back,” Kobra instructed protectively.
“Kobra,” Jet stepped forward. “I want to put these restraints on him.”
“With pleasure!” Kobra responded cheerfully.

Turning the Exterminator quickly and pressing his face against the wall, Kobra pressed harder as Korse tried to resist Jet pulling his hands behind him. Allowing his left hand to be taken easily, he reached into his coat with surprising speed, his fingers closing on another gun. Between them, Jet and Kobra were ready for the move and the pair body slammed Korse fully against the wall, trapping his arm painfully.

“You’ve got two choices,” Kobra growled quietly as Korse struggled against them. “You can let go of the gun and move your hand out slowly, or I kill you. Which is it, Korse?”
“You’d kill your only chance at family?” Korse’s voice sounded muffled and desperate.
“You are not family!” Kobra hissed in his ear.
“But I do know the whereabouts of your mother.”
“M-my...” Kobra stammered, his grip loosening just enough for Korse to gain a partial advantage.

Korse, surprising everyone with his strength, pushed back away from the wall, drawing his second gun as he did so, aiming it directly at Red.

“Well, now,” Korse’s lips pricked up at the corners as he heard Ghoul gasp in surprise and he felt the mood in the room change from one of triumph for the Killjoys to one of nervous dismay.
“You hurt her, you won’t live, Korse!” Jet snapped. “Drop your gun.”
“This has been quite the turnaround, hasn’t it?” Korse chuckled. “Drop your weapon and come here,” he gestured with his finger toward Red.

It was as if the occupants of the whole room collectively held their breath as Red moved slowly forward, a terrified expression on her face. All eyes were on her as she lowered herself to the floor to place her gun on the ground, then walked toward the Exterminator.

“Red,” Jet shook his head. “No...”
“She’s your sister, I know, which is why you won’t do anything to risk her life,” Korse gloated, certain, not just of his escape, but of his ultimate defeat over the Killjoys.
“She’s just a little girl,” Party added. “Korse!”
“The ideal hostage,” Korse smiled cruelly as he turned his eyes towards Party briefly.

It was enough. Red spun, aiming high and landed a well-aimed boot hard into Korse’s chest, driving him backwards until he slammed back against the wall. Dazed as his head impacted against the already cracked plaster, he created a cloud of dust as pieces broke away. Racing forward, Kobra and Jet seized Korse, pulling the gun from his hand while his senses reeled from the blow. Spun around, he found himself pressed face-first against the wall once more and his hands pulled behind him, the restraints closed around his wrists before he had even gathered his wits. Turned again, so that his back was to the wall, Kobra and Jet let him go, only to watch him sink to the floor, still stunned and disoriented. Rolling the triangular bandage that she had used as a makeshift bandana after the explosion, Red crouched to tie his ankles together.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” she beamed at the Exterminator as she fastened a firm knot.
“You realise that you just signed your own death warrant?” Korse replied, still groggy from the blow to his head.
“Well,” she dragged out the word, “I wouldn’t be a Killjoy if you didn’t want to kill me, would I?”

Jet reached down to help her up, before scowling deeply at Korse.

“We see an extermination poster with her name or face on it, it’s you that’ll die, Korse,” he snapped angrily.
“It’s good to learn your weaknesses, Star,” he replied with an infuriating smirk. “Now I know what will hurt you all, don’t think I won’t use it against you.”

Jet stood upright, and took in a long deep breath and chewing on his lip as he considered Korse’s words. Turning towards Party, Jet shrugged, allowing his arms to rise out to the side indicating his confusion.

“Party, why are we letting him live?” He asked in a partly confused, partly resigned tone.
“You know why,” Party replied, drawing his lips into a thin line.
“It just doesn’t seem worth it,” Jet responded with a shake of his head.

Korse stared up at Party, his brow furrowed. What was the reason? Was it the family connection? Surely they had only just learned about that and the exchange had suggested a long held decision. About to speak, Korse’s expression changed to one of frustration as Dr Fielding appeared at the door.

“Oh!” She cried in surprise, before breaking into laughter. “We were coming to warn you, but I see you’ve already dealt with the situation.”

Fielding glanced down at the bound Exterminator and found herself laughing again.

“Oh, dear, Korse, this must be very embarrassing for you,” she added as her chuckles died to a manageable level.

Party smiled at Fielding’s delight at his predicament. She had risked everything, lost everything to help the Killjoy escape BLI. Now, her comfortable life was over, he was relieved she could still find something to laugh about.

“I promise you, doctor, next time we see each other, the shoe will be very much on the other foot,” Korse threatened quietly.
“Oh! Shoe! Yes, he keeps a knife in his boot and has an extra gun in his coat. Did you find them?”

Jet raised an eyebrow; it seemed unlikely that he could reach the knife, let alone wield it, but it was good to know. Dropping onto one knee, Jet fished the hidden dagger from inside Korse’s right boot.

“Nice knife,” he nodded before sheathing it in his belt.
“One day, Jet Star,” Korse growled. “I will remove your eyes with that knife.”
“Yeah?” Jet offered a scornful glance in reply. “Well, today’s not that day.”

Party stepped forward to address Fielding, he knew they would only have a limited amount of time before Korse’s prolonged absence would trigger a patrol to investigate.

“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Is Ghoul fit enough to move?”
“I take it the answer you need is yes?” Fielding replied.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Party shrugged.
“Okay, I’ll grab a few supplies for you. It’s not as if we can stay here.”

Party pulled out the drawing from his back pocket and grabbed the pencil from an old chart hanging from the bed. Writing a quick address on the reverse, he handed it to her.

“Head there with Dr Hawes, we’ll find you in a couple of days. We can help you.”
“What with?” Fielding raised her eyebrows, wondering what this group of starving group of rebels could do for them.
“Trust me,” Party replied with a smile, taking her hand gratefully into his. “Trust me.”

Notes

Hi, my lovelies! Another chapter for you. I think it’s nearing it’s conclusion, but I thought that about 20 chapters ago, so I could be wrong :P

Thank you, as ever for reading. I really hope you enjoyed this instalment and if so, please drop me a line or leave a comment. It’s always good to hear from you.

Take care
Sas xx