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The Killjoys gasped for breath as the barriers between their universe and the next suddenly and completely deteriorated. The color was being sucked from the sky to the ground below, it was not a pretty sight.
And those Killjoys who didn’t make it to what was becoming some strange, deformed Battery City? Ghosted. But they didn’t leave. This new place that was merging through to the Zones appeared to be death itself.
The Fabulous Four had been drawn to a parade float in the middle of the strange city. It had a skull on the front and was entirety black and white, just like the rest of this new place. Ghoul climbed on top and began to look at the set up. He saw different instruments with a jacket of sorts set neatly out in front of them. He didn’t like how similar these new uniforms were.
“Hey Pois,” Ghoul said as he climbed down from the float. ”Whattya think of those jackets and stuff up there?”
“What Jackets, Ghoulie?” Poison asked. They hadn’t gone up with him, Ghoul realized.
“The ones up there. Think they’re cool.” Ghoul told them as they climbed up onto the float. They did it impressively fast, Ghoul had a hard time getting up there when he went.
Poison climbed up and grabbed the one by the mic stand. They looked at it, held it, but never put it on. Something about the jackets weren’t right. They weren’t supposed to belong to the Killjoys, but something told Ghoul it was going to be theirs eventually. Poison set the jacket down by the mic and backed away, but their eyes had changed. They faded, not too much, but just enough for it to be noticeable to Ghoul. “Come on,” Poison climbed down and put their arm around the shorter Killjoy. “Let’s go find Kobes an’ Jet.”
Jet and Kobra were being confronted by a strange new deity, one that wasn’t native to the zones. She had a gas mask on, and her voice was metallic. It was not unlike a rebreather, this must have been a way to combat the atmosphere in this place.
“Vous deviendrez membre.” She told them. French. Interesting.
The two nodded and she walked away about as quick as a desert tortoise.
The Killjoys she’d spoken to slowly nodded and began walking back towards the parade float. They climbed on, still easier than Ghoul had done it. Each put on their respective jackets, how they knew whose was whose escaped Ghoul. The color in their eyes had faded completely, a larger scale version of what Poison’s had done. Kobra’s combination of hazel and purple eyes became a deep shade of gray. Jet’s already gray eyes deepened in their natural color. Their hair, everything else about them faded, turned into the same grayscale that the rest of this hybrid dystopia was doused in.
Poison climbed atop the float and picked up the microphone jacket again. They took off their iconic pill jacket, they’d been wearing the black one, and slid this one onto their shoulders. A perfect fit, as Jet and Kobra’s had been. The fading happened to them, too. Everything but their hair had gone into grayscale.
“Come up, Ghoul.” Jet beckoned.
“Put your jacket on, Ghoulie?” Kobra asked him.
Poison took a different approach. They climbed down and grabbed onto Ghoul’s waist. They carried him up to the float and set him on top. It reminded him of something they’d do back in the diner. When Ghoul was being stubborn, they’d come over and pick him up by the waist. It was easy for them because Poison was taller than them. Then again, they could pick up their brother, who was the tallest of the four. Ghoul decided Poison was just strong.
Now that he was up there, he didn’t want to put the jacket on, but he was forced to. Ghoul’s joints were moving against his will and forced the jacket onto his body. Everything about him faded, his mind becoming nothing but static. It was almost nice, the thoughts going through his brain were beginning to slow.
Poison groaned and dropped to the ground. “Fuck!” They cried out. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” They gripped their head in their hands and set it between their knees. Soon Kobra did the same thing, followed by Jet. Ghoul knew he was next, but he was scared.
A skeleton had sunken eye sockets and was obviously pale. When Poison, Kobra and Jet looked up. That’s what they all looked like. Some mysterious source had painted them like this, all the way down to the details on their hands. Poison’s hair had become short and a dyed white color.
It happened to Ghoul, the makeup that is, though he never was in pain. He never even noticed it happening.
“Oh shit.” Ghoul commented as he looked down at his own hands. Somehow, this place felt like home to him. He felt safe here.
On a pile of rubble in the distance, Regret watched as Ghoul become the rhythm guitarist of the black parade.
—
The day after, or what seemed to be the day after, Poison was found to be whimpering off the edge of the parade float. Not crying. Whimpering. No one was around, they couldn’t bare anyone to see them like that. It was their mask they were mourning. When they’d tried to put it on that morning it’d deteriorated, becoming a part of the ashes that had begun falling around them.
—
Ghoul found that Regret had begun to watch him more often. Over the first couple of days after he had put on his jacket and was stripped of his color, he’d started coming into his own with his instrument. Rhythm Guitar. Not something Ghoul had ever seen himself playing. He often saw her watching like she’d been when Ghoul acquired his makeup. Which doesn’t come off by the way. He’d seen Poison wearing gloves to hide it on their hands.
Regret watched the Parade practice more and more every day. Jet had taken up Lead Guitar, which was unsurprising in Ghoul’s opinion. Kobra was given bass, which was surprising. Kobra was the best singer of all four of them. But it made sense why Poison was given the mic, they were meant to be the leader.
It was maybe a week after Ghoul had noticed Regret that she decided to approach him. “My dear Ghoul,” her voice was sweet and trustworthy. Ghoul felt like he knew it. Wait. He did.
“Mama?” He asked after she had addressed him. He ran over and hugged her. It’d been years since she’d been killed and Ghoul had still not gotten over it. She and his other mom had given him emotional issues goddamnit! But now he was in a strange place and his mom was here and he didn’t care anymore. He had someone to hold him and tell him he would be okay. Deep down, Ghoul was still that scared kid who didn’t understand that his mom wasn’t coming home. Thanks to fifteen year old Show Pony- six years older than Ghoul- for trying to explain it, though.
She returned the hug. He was taller than her here, but it was still nice. “I’m here, baby. It’s alright.”
Ghoul pulled back and he was crying. “Where did you go, back in the Zones?” He asked.
“It was a suicide mission, years after your other mom’s. I shouldn’t have done it and I’m so sorry I did.” She explained. “I became the Phoenix Witch after that, to help guide others to the afterlife safely.”
“Is this where’d you’d bring them?”
Ghoul’s mom laughed. “No, I’m afraid that other place is long gone. Deteriorated with the rest of the Zones.” She looked at her son, to see what had become of him here. “Look at your eyes. Orange. Were you a bomb maker?”
He nodded. “Best in Zone Four.”
“That’s my Ghoul.” She sounded proud as she smiled at him.
Ghoul hugged her again before letting go. He headed back to the float to continue practicing, but not without saying goodbye. “Bye Mama, will ya be stickin’ around?”
“Couldn’t miss you and your band play.” She nodded before she began to walk off towards another pile of rubble.
—
He was explaining his crew to Regret, how Poison was the leader and such, when someone Ghoul recognized as Fear approached them. She stayed off in the distance, though both had already seen her at this point.
It wasn’t until the next time Ghoul was talking to Regret that Fear approached them. “Crow?” She asked. She was looking at Regret.
“Raven?” She stood up and hugged her wife. “Ghoul, it’s your other mom.”
He didn’t respond, just hugged both of them. His family had completely reunited and he hadn’t even needed to do anything. “I never met you really, but I’ve missed you.” He told her.
“I missed you too, and you look so good, Ghoul. All grown up.” She beamed.
Ghoul felt so good now. Both his moms! Here! “What happened to you back home?”
“Got killed and became Destroya. Don’t ask how, it’s a long story.” She shook her head.
Ghoul didn’t care how it happened, but it was nice to know that she was around while Ghoul was growing up. He laughed and started telling her about how he grew up. She was interested, obviously, and it was nice to have two people to listen and input on his childhood.
—
Back at the Parade, the other Killjoys had started losing their memory. Kobra was refusing to make eye contact with anyone, and Jet had a blank look painted across his face. Ever since Ghoul had talked to his moms, he was more aware of what was going on in this place. It was something Poison did that really threw Ghoul.
“Bassist, I need you up here in front.” Poison addressed Kobra with a name besides ‘Kobes’? There was something deeply wrong here. They never did that, even in front of people like Tommy Chow Mein.
Kobra nodded, but never looked up. He moved towards the front where Poison was singing, never acknowledging anything as he did so. During the songs on the Parade route he constantly was looking down at his bass, and never moved around. Jet and Ghoul, on the other hand, practically fought with their guitars. Jet’s mind may have been taken, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t put on a show with Ghoul. If it hadn’t been for the immortality the Parade granted them, Ghoul’s pretty sure they would’ve killed each other with their instruments by now. Luckily, neither had fully hit other’s skin with their instruments yet.
Watching Poison stare ahead blankly as they mindlessly sang Parade songs hurt Ghoul. He decided to try something. It was risky, but worth it.
“Hey Leader.” Ghoul called them over.
Poison came over, but didn’t say anything to Ghoul. It was really starting to get on Ghoul’s nerves.
He got closer to Poison and stuck his hand out. He drew back and slapped them, right across the face. The look they gave and the flash of red in their eyes was worth everything.
Poison gasped and pushed Ghoul away. “Don’t ever try anything like that again, Rhythm Guitarist.” They told him pointedly before stomping away. In their dyed white hair, a blood red streak reappeared. It offset their whole complexion, but it was a welcome color to Ghoul.
The rest of that day, Poison sang differently. Their voice cracked once during a song. They sounded like the Poison that Ghoul knew. At the end of the Parade route, Ghoul saw Poison looking at Jet like they remembered him. Poison’s eyes were tinted a slight red as they stared at the person they were supposed to be dating.
Ghoul cried to himself as he put his guitar back on it’s stand at the end of that day. His best friend was beginning to come back.
—
The next day, right before they started their route, Ghoul approached Poison.
“Leader,” he hated addressing them like that, but he knew he had to. “Your singing was off yesterday.”
“It was not, I can assure you. You must be imagining things, Rhythm Guitarist.” They glared up at him. “You’re lucky I don’t tell Mother War about your outburst yesterday.”
Ghoul gulped. He didn’t know what to do, now. Poison forgot, Jet was impossible to get through to, and Kobra wasn’t looking up looking enough to even see if he was contactable. This sucked.
Ghoul gathered his strength. He was going to need it.
At the end of the last song, Ghoul was bouncing on his toes. He knew hat he was about to do, and geared up next to Poison as the last notes rang out.
He jumped in front of Poison and grabbed their mic. It burned his hands like hell, definitely giving him third degree burns. He didn’t care. He bore through it. “Look alive, sunshine.” He said into the mic. He continued the intro, Dr. D’s most infamous intro, until he got the mic stolen back from him by Poison. They glared again, but he was getting emotional responses.
When he goes back to playing his guitar, his hands don’t burn. Doing anything but that, they do. Things suck worse.
Things suck a little less when he turns around to see that Kobra had glanced up at him and that Jet had a reaction. He looked slightly distressed, for Ghoul’s sake.
—
It took weeks for the burns to heal, the only thing to sooth it his guitar. Ghoul just wanted his friends back, dammit! He wanted Poison to lift him up and tease him, he wanted to sit with Kobra in the trans am, he wanted Jet to take him to the market so they can get supplies together again. He wanted his family back.
Ghoul still won’t get over what he saw in Jet and Kobra when they glanced at him, even if it was only for a second.
More people were marching with them along the route today with them, he had another idea.
“Parade, we’ve got more marchers with us for this route.” The lea- Poison informed them. “Be on your best today.”
There was a chorus of “sure” and “will do” from everyone but Kobra. He was still impossibly silent.
At the end of a song, as Poison ironically screamed “Wake up!”, Ghoul threw his guitar off the float and jumped into the sea of marchers. Their hands burned until they set him down, but he was fine. He could still walk and talk all the same as he could before. He had achieved the whole point of this outburst: getting the other paraders’ attention.
“Ghoul!” Kobra screamed out. He jumped off the float after him.
Suddenly Ghoul realized why he refused to look up at anyone. Kobra’s eyes were glowing a bright white color that’s hard to hide without looking completely down. So Kobra wasn’t disconnected. Just protecting himself.
Poison kicked into protective sibling mode and tried to jump off too, but Jet grabbed their waist and pulled them back into their position.
Kobra turned to Ghoul with his eyes that looked radioactive. “You dumbass,” He sighed. “Why the fuck did you jump off?!”
Ghoul smirked at Kobra. “Why did you?”
Kobra sighed again, but never got to finish his thought.
“Les loups, leur faire du mal.” The two heard Mother War say.
Kobra and Ghoul’s faces were shoved into the ground along with the rest of their bodies. The Wolves, as Ghoul assumed they were called, had tackled each of them. They were tearing into the Killjoys' backs with some sort of claws, and one struck Ghoul in the back of the head. It took some of what he’d remembered away from him.
“Shit!” Ghoul screamed through the punishment. Kobra seemed immune to what was being done, it was like he willed it not to hurt or something.
When Ghoul was released from the punishment with Kobra, he looked up to see a white and red haired person being chastised by Mother War. Whatever they did, they mustn’t have been as bad as what Ghoul had done. Ghoul clambered back up on the float, itching at the scratches on the back of his head. He picked up his guitar, which had been returned, and got back into position next to Jet.
The bass player still hadn’t returned. Odd.
When he did, he was looking at the ground again. A smile teased the corners of his face. He had a plan.
During the rest of the parade route, the bassist actually moved around. He struck both Ghoul and Jet with his bass throughout the different songs, trying to jog their memories. It worked.
Jet looked up at Ghoul and smiled. He was back! Ghoul returned the smile and they swung their instruments in unison, careful not to hit each other. Now the three were playing in unison, head banging and having as good of a time as possible on the fucking parade float.
The end of the song came and Ghoul had one final move. He jumped and smashed Poison with his guitar, knocking them hard onto the ground. They screamed out in agony as the guitar burned them, just as Poison’s mic had burned Ghoul. But why didn’t Kobra’s bass or Jet’s guitar hurt?
Ghoul calmed down and stared at what they’d done. “Oh Destroya, I’ve killed them!”
“They’re fine, Ghoulie. I think ya just knocked ‘em out.” Jet reassured as he came over to take a look at Poison.
“But why’d my guitar burn ’em?”
Kobra came over to join them. “It’s because I give no power to the instruments, other than them being an instrument. But Poison, who doesn't know themselves almost at all, gives power to their mic, to our instruments. That's why Poison's mic burned Ghoul, that's why Ghoul's guitar burned poison, that's why the marchers hand burned. It's the power the individual provides.” Kobra explained.
Ghoul and Jet nodded in understanding.
As the three were standing around, waiting for Poison to awake, Ghoul made a decision. He ripped his jacket off and flung it into the distance, Kobra and Jet following suit. Each had aspects already returning to them. Ghoul’s orange eyes remained, as did the rest of him, but the makeup began to melt off, just as the other two members had happen to them. Ghoul had blonde streaks appear in his hair, which made him look kind of like an early 2000s scene kid. Kobra’s hair returned to it’s normal blonde, with a few black streaks mixed in. Jet regained his brown hair, with a single red streak along the side. His light gray eyes looked like they belonged at an Ohio State Football game, with all the red that got mixed in. Kobra’s eyes had returned to their proper hazel, with flecks of orange thrown in. Coincidence that Ghoul had orange eyes and was absolutely in love with him, right?
“We should take Poison’s off.” Jet suggested. The others nodded in agreement.
The moment it was off their body Poison shot up and gasped for breath as they reached for the heavens.
“Pois!” Jet exclaimed. They slid down kissed Poison. He missed them. Poison kissed back with confusion that turned into Passion. They missed Jet too.
Poison stood up and stumbled over to Ghoul for a hug. They lifted him up, just like they always used to do. It was a nice feeling of home. Poison never did acknowledge Kobra, their own brother, but Kobra was fine. He was just happy that his sibling was alright.
The parade float, which had still been rolling along, halted to a stop. They still had one more thing to deal with: Mother War.
She was standing in the middle of the route, simply standing and that was all. They knew what she had done.
Fear and Regret joined the members on the float. Each one took a corner of the front.
Poison looked about ready to pass out again and Kobra looked like he was going to have an aneurism, but Jet was surprisingly calm. He was always one to believe in the witch.
“They’re my moms, guys. It’s okay.” Ghoul reassured them.
Poison and Kobra nodded, not questioning him at the moment.
“Use your instruments!” Fear instructed.
“Jump off and strike!” Regret told them.
The four geared up on the edge of the float, right between Fear and Regret. Poison held their mic and began to sing, the guitarists and bassist joining in. It wasn’t a song they knew before, yet they could play the whole thing.
“Now I know
That I can't make you stay
But where's your heart?
But where's your heart?
But where's your-”
The four jumped off, rearing their instruments as they played. Poison continued to sing as they struck Mother War in unison.
“And I know
There's nothing I can say
To change that part
To change that part
To change-”
The Fabulous Four, that's what they had become again, landed on the ground in varying positions. They waited for the dust to clear, and the smoke from whatever was burning. It was the parade float that had caught fire.
Once the smoke and dust cleared, the four looked around. Mother War was lying dead on the ground, surrounded by her soldiers: The Wolves. Falling from the sky instead of ashes were light gray flowers.
“Ghost flowers.” Jet commented on them.
No one was quite sure what they were, but they were pretty. Kobra picked one up and put it in Ghoul’s hair. It made Ghoul blush, the soft touch of Kobra brushing his hair back.
“It suits you, Ghoulie.” Kobra told him softly.
Ghoul blushed further. “Can I… Can I…” Ghoul couldn’t get out what he wanted to see. He wanted to kiss Kobra!
“Do you wanna kiss?” Kobra asked, still in his soft voice.
Ghoul nodded and they embraced.
Kobra was the most amazing kisser Ghoul had ever known. Not that he’d actually kissed many people. But something about Kobra was just the most amazing he’d ever experienced.
Jet and Poison took each other in their arms and caught each other up on what had happened, leaving out some details neither could seem to remember.
Fear and Regret smiled at each other, took hands, and all that was left of them was a pair of black feathers.