Working at pace, it would take just over an hour to fix the Trans Am, with both Larry and Tina almost a blur of limbs, tools and parts. Both Kobra and Jet had approached them with coffee and offers to help but only the coffee had been accepted.

Almost fifty minutes after the mechanics had begun working, Kobra looked up with sympathy in his eyes as Jet returned to the diner his face displaying a downcast and dejected expression. Allowing the door to swing closed behind him, he sighed heavily and flopped onto the seat in the same booth as his friend.

“They won’t let us help,” Jet grumbled.
“Hmm,” Kobra nodded, taking another sip of the coffee that Jet had placed in front of him as he headed outside.
“You seem okay with that.”

Jet’s tone fell somewhere between a half-hearted accusation and complete frustration. Kobra’s eyes widened as he stared back. Initially his response was one of anger but it settled quickly into understanding as he noticed Jet’s face morph into a look of regret and, if it were possible, even more frustration.

“We’d only hold them up,” Kobra explained simply. “Well,” he shrugged, “I would, anyway. By the time they explained what they want me to do, they could have done it.”

Jet let out a deeply exasperated sigh.

“I know,” he offered a conciliatory half-smile and shrug combination. “Doesn’t make me feel any better though. I feel as though I should be doing something. Not just sitting here.”
“Well,” Kobra brightened, “Tina’s going to need a gun. We can get one ready, make sure it’s charged, you know,” he offered with a shrug.
“Done it,” Jet replied flatly, producing an unpainted spare ray gun from his inside pocket.
“Oh,” Kobra frowned. “How about something to eat? Just something quick like a sandwich?”
“I’m not hungry,” Jet replied; his mouth barely moving with his jaw and cheek cupped in his hand and his elbow resting on the table.
“No, but Tina might be,” Kobra smiled at Jet’s misunderstanding.

Jet looked up and offered a grateful smile. It was a small but thoughtful task, but most of all, it would keep him occupied and distracted from the feeling of helplessness that washed over him repeatedly.

“Yeah,” Jet nodded as he rose to head to the kitchen. “On it. Do you...?” Jet paused and shook his head. “Course you do,” he rolled his eyes as if admonishing himself for even considering asking Kobra if he wanted to eat.
“Thanks, man,” Kobra smiled and leaned back in the booth, taking his coffee with him. They would soon be on their way to help Ghoul. “Oh!”
“What?” Jet turned sharply at the sudden urgency in Kobra’s voice.
“Where’s Party?”

Jet frowned. He hadn’t seen him for some time, in fact, not since he noticed him sleeping at one of the other booths.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “He’s not outside. Maybe with Dr D or perhaps he’s gone to his room for a proper sleep?”
“Huh,” Kobra replied unconvinced; even as he spoke the words, Jet didn’t sound as if he believed them. “I’ll have a look round.”
“Let me know when you find him,” Jet nodded with a slight frown lingering on his lips as he continued to the kitchen.

Downing the last of the coffee, Kobra pushed himself from the booth. Something felt wrong.

*

Fun Ghoul had pushed the covers away from his legs, grimacing with distaste as he noticed the hospital gown.

“Want something to wear with more colour?” A voice asked from the doorway.

Ghoul looked up, frowning first at the question then at the bald man, oddly flamboyantly dressed in grey.

“Nobody looks their best in a hospital gown,” he replied casually. “Are you a doctor?”
“No, I’m not. You didn’t answer my question?” He pressed, walking slowly into the room.
“That’s because it’s a stupid question,” Ghoul narrowed his eyes. “Why would I want to wear anything colourful?”
“It’s what you have been wearing.”

Ghoul scratched his head and offered a harsh stare and a deeply furrowed brow.

“Who are you?” He asked finally as the man reached his bed.
“You don’t know?” He raised an eyebrow in return, prompting only a sigh from the patient.
“Look, here’s the thing,” Ghoul raised his hand to point at himself. “I don’t even know who I am! Of course I don’t know who you are!”
“Don’t play with me, Fun Ghoul, I know you, and you most certainly know me,” Korse allowed the words to roll from his tongue and an easy yet intimidating manner.

Ghoul found himself now half turning away from the newcomer, his eyes flickering over to the call button, uncertain whether or not to press it.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but my name’s Frank and I don’t know you,” he replied nervously, his voice giving way to a slight shake. “You’re in the wrong room.”
“No,” Korse leaned over the Killjoy, pinning the sheets on either side. “I know exactly who you are... Frankie.”

Ghoul tried hard to shrink back into the pillows as the man’s menacing stare bore into him. Reaching quickly to the side, Ghoul snatched at the remote that housed the call button and gave a yelp as it was wrenched from his grasp. Pulling away as far as the pinned sheets would allow, Ghoul called out as loudly as he could.

“Doctor! Nurse! Anyone!”
“You’re quite the coward when not backed up by your rebel friends, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ghoul replied, his eyes wide and fearful. “Please, I’m not who you think I am. I’m not a rebel, I’m an engineer.”

Moments later, Ghoul gasped with relief as the man was forcefully pulled back from the bed.

“Get your hands off me!” He barked, batting away Dr Carmichael’s hands and smoothing any creases in his coat and shirt. “Who do you think you are?”
“I’m the doctor looking after this patient! I agreed to you questioning him, but not assaulting him! No matter who you think he is!”

Korse spared another glance to the man in the bed. He noted the fear in his eyes and his position in the bed - trying to pull away as far as possible. There genuinely seemed to be no recognition.

“Of course,” he nodded. His words and demeanour suggested an apology but it seemed as if it was for show only - merely a means to an end. “I had to test your patient’s memory.”

A sideways glance at the exterminator suggested that the doctor vehemently both disbelieved and disagreed but was reluctant to press the matter.

“What about my memory?” Ghoul asked quietly. “What am I supposed to have done to warrant a visit from an exterminator?”
“Tell me, Ghoul,” Korse smirked, “If you supposedly have no memory, how do you know I’m an exterminator? I didn’t introduce myself. I didn’t think your little amnesia game would collapse so quickly.”

Ghoul stared up; he almost appeared bored with his head tilted and a deadpan expression firmly fixed on his face.

“I don’t remember a lot, but I do know that that symbol on your sleeve means you’re an exterminator. That, and I was told you were coming. And, while I’m at it, and hopefully for the last time, my name is Frank!”

Korse lost the smirk in an instant as the young man snapped at him with an expression that suggested a combination of confusion, anger and frustration.

“Seriously,” Ghoul continued. “What have I done? I was told I’d been taken by rebels to help them in some way, but you’re treating me as if I am one! If I did what they asked me to it would only have been with a gun to my head!”

Ghoul frowned deeply; it seemed almost a sulky pout.

“Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?” He complained.
“Very well,” Korse began. “You are an engineer and a brilliant one at that. You are a vital part of BLI’s technology unit and knowing this, a band if rebels kidnapped you to obtain your secrets and to get you to work for them.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Ghoul insisted.
“Ah, but you did,” Korse corrected him.
“I... I did?” Ghoul stammered. “But... I... I don’t understand.”

Korse smiled; it was a superior, gloating smile, happy that he had achieved his aim.

“You underestimate their abilities... Frank,” Korse nodded. “They have the capability to brainwash you given enough time.”
“How... how long was I with them?” Ghoul asked, his brow furrowing.
“Sadly, this is where we let you down,” Korse nodded gravely. “We knew who had you, but unfortunately the location of their hideout is still a mystery to us. We were unable to locate you for over three years; more than enough time for them to turn you.”
“But you found me?” Ghoul asked. “You brought me back. Their brainwashing didn’t last.”
“We had to deprogram you,” Korse offered a grim expression. “I’m afraid that’s why you feel so weak. It is... an arduous process.”
“I don’t care!” Ghoul insisted, animated in his response. “At least I’m back to normal again. Thank you!”
“I’m pleased to hear your loyalty to BLI is restored. And I hear anger in your tone.”
“Of course I’m angry!” Ghoul snapped. “I’ve lost three years of my life to those bastards and it would have been more if you hadn’t found me!”
“I wonder though how you might best use that anger?” Korse mused aloud.

Ghoul frowned, expressing confusion at the response.

“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Korse allowed a smile to pull at the ends of his lips. “How do you feel about revenge?”

*

Still seated in the office chair in the underground parking garage, Red stared expectantly at Coffin, now seated across from her.

“Well?” She prompted after a few moments silence. “Are you going to tell me?”

Coffin nodded; he had no idea how she would respond to his tale, but he had to make it good - he needed her to stay willingly.

“Okay, so, I’m not what you think I am,” he began.
“Well, that’s a great start given that you don’t know what I’m thinking?” Red snapped in return.
“Don’t I?” Coffin raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think I work for Korse and have all this time just been biding my time waiting to sell out the Killjoys for money?”
“Oh,” Red smirked, “so you do know what I’m thinking. Prove me wrong, then.”
“I don’t blame you, you know,” Coffin shrugged. “You only know what they’ve told you. If I’m angry with anyone, it’s them. Okay, so, here’s the deal. I guess you could call me a rebel sympathiser. I hate BLI and I’m prepared to help the rebels - all rebels, not just the Killjoys, but I’m not so much with the starvation side of things. I like nice things, I like eating regularly and most of all, I like the freedom to enjoy them. That doesn’t make me a bad person. In fact, because as far as Korse is concerned, I provide him with information, I get enough detail in return to help rebels. Without that, the Killjoys wouldn’t be nearly as successful!”

Red’s head suddenly snapped up and tilted as she appeared to be listening intently. A deep, concerned frown was immediately followed by a question.

“What’s that noise?”
“What noise?” Asked Coffin, straining to hear whatever sound Red was trying to identify.
“You can’t hear it?” She asked.
“No,” he frowned. “What does it sound like?”
“Like somebody playing a really, really tiny violin.”

Coffin stopped listening and merely glared in her direction.

“Funny,” he snapped, deeply unimpressed. “Okay, so I think I’ve probably reached the end of my helping shelf-life anyway. Korse set me up when he told me about Party being transferred to de Witt’s Penitentiary. I had no idea that it was an android, but he clearly knew I’d give you the information. So it seems that he knows I’ve been helping rebels.”
“And yet, he lets you live,” Red raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Why do you think that is? Presumably because he gets something from you in return?”

Coffin sighed heavily and shook his head.

“For someone who, by your own admission, knows nothing about me, you sure have some pretty strong opinions about me!”
“Like I said, prove me wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have to!” He snapped, clearly irritated by her responses. “Whatever happened to innocent until proved guilty.”
“Yeah, right! There was a basic flaw in that idea.”
“And what’s that” he asked almost with a snarl.
“It was crap!” She rolled her eyes. “Why would I just trust you? Who do you trust?”
“Well, for starters I’m trusting you! Took the chains off you, didn’t I? Told you you could leave! Even take my car!”

Red stared back. At first a little lost for words. Yes, he had shown her some trust, but her gut was telling her that there was still some ulterior motive that she hadn’t yet discovered.

“Okay, I’ll give you that. But you do give Korse something, don’t you?”
“Information, sometimes, but nothing he couldn’t get anywhere else.”
“So, why does he keep you around if you don’t give him anything? Seems unlikely.”

Coffin gritted his teeth; she was more intelligent than he was giving her credit for and was asking some demanding and difficult questions.

“So, what did you give him?” She continued. “Ghoul by any chance?”
“That wasn’t me,” he snapped in return.
“You had nothing to do with Ghoul being taken?” She pressed. “Nothing at all?”

Coffin sighed and shook his head.

“Look, my employer asked me to pilot her helicopter. She said her aide was going into the Zones, but I didn’t know why until he gave me directions to the diner. But I had nothing at all to do with Korse taking him!”
“Woah! Woah, back up there!” Red raised her hands as if physically ready to stop him. So distracted was she that she barely heard his last statement. “You pilot a helicopter?”
“Er... yeah...” he replied hesitantly.
“And your employer,” Red rose slowly from the chair, a deep frown and dark eyes dominating her expression and her fury almost physically dripping from her. “Evelyn Hart, by any chance?”

Racing forward to vent her anger, all of Red’s initial resolve to hear him out had deserted her. As she reached him, he pushed a previously hidden, handheld taser into her chest. For his part, Red’s strength and speed had enough force to knock him off his feet, winding him, but she had been unable to take her attack any further as the taser jolted her with enough current to render her immediately unconscious. Slowly and carefully picking himself off the floor, Coffin dusted himself off and looked down at the now unconscious young woman.

“Well,” he mused, “that could have gone better. Damn Killjoys! They really live up to their name!”

Notes

Hello lovely readers.

Now or that the site’s all messed up, I don’t even know if anyone will see this. If you do, thanks for reading and, if you have time, why not leave a comment. Just to say hi would be lovely!

Thanks!!
Sas xx