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"Poison."
Party Poison was awoken by the faint sound of someone saying his name. He sat up, running a hand through his hair and yawning, looking around the room for the source of the voice. He caught sight of Kobra Kid peering around the corner, a slight smile on his face. Of course.
"Poison," he repeated. "Hey. Look alive, bro."
Poison rolled his eyes at his brother. Though he had interrupted his sleep on numerous occasions, it was just as annoying each time, if not more. "What?" he snapped.
Kobra chuckled at Poison's irritation. He sauntered over to the booth Poison had accidentally dozed off in the night before. He seated himself next to his older brother, the smile never leaving his face. This was strange; Kobra was often the most serious out of the three of them, remaining practical and alert most of the time. It was rare to see him in such a jovial mood.
"What's so funny?" Poison asked. He was almost afraid that Kobra and Jet had set up some sort of practical joke at his expense.
Kobra huffed out another laugh. "Okay, so first of all--" -- he motioned towards the booth, -- "you fell asleep in the diner again. My brother's borderline narcoleptic; that's pretty hilarious."
"Haha." Poison propped his elbows up on the table and leaned into his hand, his expression showing no amusement at all. "And second of all?"
"Second of all, it's the middle of the afternoon," Kobra replied.
"So?" Poison challenged.
"We were awake already." The smug grin on Kobra's face grew wider. "All three of us."
"Well, I need my--" He paused, realizing what his brother had just said. "Three?"
Kobra's eyes lit up as if he were about to make some sort of announcement. "And third," he said. "The newbie's awake."
Poison's eyes widened. He examined Kobra's face, searching for some indication that he was joking. He found none.
"You're kidding."
The other man shook his head. "I'm not. Jet went in to check on him, and his eyes opened. I think Jet might have gotten him to talk, too."
Poison's eyes grew wider. That feeling in his chest returned, the space within him seeming to expand, as if there were a flower blooming there. "And- and he's okay?" he stammered.
Kobra smiled at his brother's reaction. He knew Poison got excited when he had saved someone, even though there had been very few cases of that actually occuring. "I'd say he's doing alright. Confused, probably a little scared, but healthy."
Before he even knew what was happening, Poison was grinning like a maniac. He had saved him. He brought him back, and he pulled through. He was right.
"Kobra," he gasped. "I have to go see him. Now." His eyes met his brother's. "Do -- do you think I can?"
Kobra laughed. "Sure. You might want to calm down first, though. Wouldn't want to freak him out."
Poison nodded. "Right," he murmured. "So can I go?"
"Go crazy." Kobra stood up, sending a joking glance in his brother's direction. "Not literally, of course."
Poison didn't even bother to respond. He stood up and immediately made his way down the hallway. His steps were slow and deliberate as he carefully examined each door. He, Jet, and Kobra had done a good job of making the diner their home, giving each of the small rooms their own purposes and putting them to good use.
He finally stopped at the former supply closet that they decided the man would stay in. He could hear the faint sound of Jet Star's gentle voice on the other end, as well as a low, weak voice he assumed must have belonged to the other man.
He pondered knocking, though he eventually decided against it since the door was already partially opened. Instead, he gently pushed it open. "Jet?" he called quietly.
"Poison! Hey." Jet sat on the foot of the cot, smiling. Propped up across from him was the dark-haired renegade. He looked fairly confused, not to mention sick. He was still paler than he probably should have been, and his eyes looked as if they were glassed over. That was nothing, however, in comparison to the side of his face. A long gash met the right corner of his lips, not yet covered by scar tissue, an angry red line left as some sort of discipline. It was all Poison could do not to wince at the sight of it; he could only imagine how it felt to the other man.
As Poison eased the door open, the man's glassy eyes fell open him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Jet started talking before he could say anything. "That's Party Poison," he said. "He's the one who brought you here."
The man didn't reply for a while, seeming to focus on the ceiling. When you finally spoke, only one word escaped his lips. "Nice."
Jet looked over to Poison, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He shook his head of brown curls slowly, as if to apologize. "He's still delirious," he said, as if he wasn't sitting right there, listening. "Probably from dehydration."
He turned back to the man in the bed. He looked so small, slumped against the wall, his eyes seeming to sink into his head. "I'm going to go get you some water, okay?" Jet asked.
The man nodded. With that, Jet gave a warm smile before heading for the door, leaving Poison alone with a delirious, dehydrated stranger.
The two of them sat in silence for a while. Poison didn't really expect him to talk, considering he didn't even seem to be completely conscious.
It didn't take long for him to be proven wrong in this assumption. The stranger cleared his throat, causing Poison to turn his attention towards him. "So," he said, the fog from his eyes lifting ever-so-slightly. "You were the one who found me, huh?"
"Um, yes," Poison replied, dumbfounded by the fact that he had gone from seeming as if his brain was paralyzed to communicating clearly within a matter of seconds. "Yeah, I was."
"Thanks, then," the man said. "Considering the way I'm feeling now, I might have rather died, but yeah. Thanks for the effort."
Poison froze, his mouth half open. That was not the response he expected. "Don't say that," he managed.
"And why not?" the other man shot back. "Just look at me. I'm half dead, and it shows. They cut my face open, for God's sake." He sighed, bringing a hand up to the cut. "Speaking of which, how does it look? The guy with the curly hair says he'll have to put more stitches in it. Says he couldn't close it up good enough while I was passed out. I know that'll hurt like a bitch."
"It... doesn't look that great." Poison resisted the urge to look away as the man touched the wound, though he was seemingly unaffected. Numb.
He snorted. "That I gathered." He pulled his hand away, staring down at the old blanket Jet had covered him with. "Oh, well. I'll survive, I guess." He looked back up, his eyes meeting Poison's. He almost looked as if he wanted to smile, despite how painful that would be in his situation. "I mean, if I were going to die, I would have done it by now, right?"
Poison willed himself to nod, trying not to be awkward. "You were in pretty bad shape out there."
The man chuckled, despite how unfunny this would seem to anyone else. "I would suppose so, what with me being unconscious for several days and all." There was a sudden glint in his eye, changing his mood once again
"Gah, why did I have to be so stupid?" he sighed. "I shouldn't have even been running in the first place. I should have just stayed put."
"I don't think so." Poison surprised himself by taking a seat at the foot of the bed. "I think it's great that you were out there standing up for yourself. We both know everything BLI does is harmful. You're a hero."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I disagree." Despite the disenchantment in his voice, the man's bright green eyes still sparkled. "Just because I disagree with something doesn't mean I'm a hero. In fact, I'm more of a con. I play along and pretend to conform, then I run away. That, my friend, will get a bastard like me shot."
"Maybe that's what you think," Poison said. "But, even if that's true, I know for a fact that there are three other bastards just like you right here, and we'd love for you to run with us."
Now it was the other man's turn to be dumbfounded. "You're serious?" he asked.
Poison smiled and nodded.
Before either of them could say anything else, the door opened, revealing Jet with a glass of water and his first aid kit. He walked over to the bed, placing the glass on the side table. "I brought you a drink," he said. "And, after you get some water in you, I figured we should probably get those stitches taken care of."
The man nodded as he lifted the glass to his lips. Once he had gulped down half of the water, he returned the glass to the table, wiping his mouth with one hand. "Sure, why not. Let's go ahead and get it over with."
Jet smiled. "You staying in here, Poison?" he asked as he opened the first aid kit, digging around the various supplies he had stolen to add to the box.
"Yeah, for moral support."
"Good." Jet retrieved a spool of thread and a sewing needle. "This may hurt a bit, okay?" he asked the man. He nodded. Poison moved closer to his side.
- - - -
It took a while, but Jet eventually got the man patched up. It hurt more than a bit, leaving him hissing in pain, biting his lip and squeezing the hand that Poison had held out to him. Once he had effectively done his job of stitching and disinfecting, Jet left the room to get something to eat, leaving Poison with the man while he recovered.
"How does it look?" he asked Poison. "Any better?"
"Much better," Poison replied. He stood up, heading towards the small supply closet connected to the room. "Hold on. I think we've got a mirror in here somewhere."
He dug through the boxes full of various items, some already there, some salvaged by he, Kobra, and Jet. Finally, he came up with what he was looking for. "Got it."
He walked back over and gave the handheld mirror to the man. "See?"
Upon seeing his face, he laughed. "God," he said. "I look like Frankenstein's monster."
"I think it looks cool," Poison said. "You have a battle scar. Very rebellious."
"Speaking of rebellion..." He put the mirror down and looked up at Poison. "What about this whole running thing?"
"Right." Poison returned to the foot of the bed. "Basically, Jet Star -- that's the guy with the curly hair -- my brother, Kobra Kid, and I have been on the run from Better Living Industries for a long time. We've been trying to do things that might lead to their downfall."
The man's eyes widened. "So you're trying to start a revolution against them?"
Poison nodded.
The man smiled, the uninjured corner of his mouth rising higher than the other. "Rad."
Poison smiled. "You really think so? Cause we're always looking for new recruits."
"I'd join you in a heartbeat. What would I need to do?"
"Well, I could hook you up with just about everything you need. Clothes, a weapon... I'll probably take you out shooting a couple of times, just in case you're rusty with a ray gun."
The man nodded, his excitement apparent.
"Basically, all you'd have to do is come up with a name for yourself," Poison finished.
"Like an alias?" he asked.
"Yeah."
He stopped, thinking. "Well," he started. "Maybe something to do with my badass new face. 'Cause I may look a monster, but at least I'm a fun, rebellious monster."
"Fun Ghoul," Poison said quickl y.
"What?" the man asked.
"Fun Ghoul," he repeated. "I think it sounds good, don't you?"
Once again, the man smiled. "Yeah," he said. "I like it. You can call me Ghoul."