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Fic - MCR/Killjoys - Burning Star. Chapter 2/? Rated R.

Title: Burning Star
Fandom: Killjoys!Verse
Rating: R
Pairings: Eventual PP!Gerard/FG!Frank
Summary: The Killjoys are in trouble. Korse has caught up with them, and there is no where left to run.
Warnings: Dark fic, Angst, HurtComfort, Adult themes, Torture, Violence, Swearing, Sexual Abuse in later chapters. It's not going to be tame anymore.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Please don't sue me! This is just for pleasure!
Authors Note: Thanks for the great response to the first part, guys :) Here's the second chapter. More soon :) Now beta-ed by ink_demon Thanks hun, you've made this better! Love ya! For anyone wondering, chapter 3 will be finished by Thursday!!



Burning Star

Part Two


Kobra didn't pause, he didn't even look back. He kept going, holding tightly on to Grace's hand, pulling her along with him. The blasts from the store had died down a few moments ago, but Kobra hadn't given that a second thought.

Why would he want to think about it?

He wasn't stupid. He knew what it meant anyway: His brother was dead.

Kobra clenched his fists, squeezing Grace's hand. He knew what the best way was to remember the brother he loved, how he should honor him. He would follow Gerard's final wishes as best he could. He would protect Grace with his very life, get her to Doctor Death, and see that she got to live a normal, healthy life. Gerard never did tell him what was so special about the child, or why he was so desperate to go out into the Zones and search for her. Kobra had decided against asking him.

Not that it mattered now. Gerard was gone, and he had entrusted Grace's safety to his younger brother. Kobra would not let him down.

He felt Grace pulling on his hand, could sense how tired she was, and he gritted his teeth.

"Gracie, we gotta keep going. We're not out of this yet."

"My feet hurt, Kobra," she said, quietly. "I need to stop, just for a quick break."

"If we stop, they'll get us. We have to keep on running."

She wiped at her eyes, shaking her head in confusion.

"What about Party? Aren't we gonna go back for him?"

Kobra tightened his hold on his gun. Shit. What was he supposed to say now? He stopped and looked back, relieved to see that there was not a Drac in sight. Suddenly, anger swept over him. No, he wasn't thankful. He wanted them to come. He wanted to blast each and every one of the fuckers into hell, and laugh as he did so.

He wanted to make them pay.

Kobra could feel the pain and despair building inside of him. He had to control it, force it back down. He closed his eyes, moaning softly.

What good was this? Gerard would not want him to die in some kind of fucking revenge mission. He had asked him to live. He wanted all of them to live. That's what the Killjoys were all about.

"It's the only way, Mikey."

Kobra blinked back tears. He had to be strong. He had to hold it together, for both their sakes. He knelt down beside Grace, and took hold of her arms, gripping her tightly.

"Party's got his own fight right now, baby. He'll deal with that, and meet up with us later. You heard what he said, Grace. We've got to get away from here, or those bad guys will find us again."

"Dracs, Kobra," she told him, rolling her eyes. "I'm not stupid."

"No, you're not." He couldn't help but smile. He ruffled her hair. "You're smarter than me, sweetheart."

She looked back in the direction of the store, still unsure. "He'll find us? You're sure?"

"I'm sure. You know Party. Nothing can stop him. Least of all a bunch of stupid Dracs!"

If only he could actually believe that were true, and they weren't just words to reassure Grace. But he knew the impossible odds that Gerard had been about to face. Even if he hadn't been out-gunned and killed by the Dracs on sight, there was no way Korse would have let him live. Korse wanted them all dead, but he seemed fixated on Party Poison the most.

'Oh shit. What the fuck have I done? If Gerard is still alive, then what is Korse doing to him right now? He needs me. Why am I running away?'

Kobra covered his face with his hands, and leaned back, trying to prevent the tears from falling. Giving himself a shake, he looked back at his young friend. She was watching him, pain etched on her face.

And that was when he realized: this wasn't about him. It wasn't even about Gerard, not at that moment anyway.

He had promised to look after her. It was time he delivered on that vow.

Thinking about Gerard like this, it wasn't helping. It would be time to grieve later. When Grace was safe, then he could go hunting for Dracs, and then he'd be able to think about his brother.

Kobra's heart hurt. He had to hide that fact from her. Time to be strong. He took a deep breath before standing up again, and offered Grace his hand.

"Trust me, Gracie. We'll see Party again. But now, we gotta keep going. You with me?"

She nodded. He hugged her tightly, stroking her hair.

And then, he heard them - the sound of shot blasts and shouts in the distance.

Fuck.

The Dracs had found them. He saw the lights from their guns first, and then they were coming out of the smoke. Dozens of them, running towards Kobra and Grace in a line.

"Time's up," Kobra announced, pulling Grace forward. "We gotta go. Run, Gracie. Don't look back, just run."

With a gasp, Grace ran along beside him. Kobra dragged her, trying to figure out what he was going to do, what Gerard would do.

They couldn't run forever. Grace was already dead on her feet and he was on his way to joining her. It looked hopeless.

He heard her moan beside him, felt her slip over and land on her knees.

"Kobra," she whimpered. "I can't..."

"You have to," he told her, desperate.

"Hurts..."

Kobra lifted her up into his arms, grimacing from the glass cuts he had suffered when he had made his escape, and set off again. It suddenly dawned on him that he was bleeding through his shirt. He dismissed it. No time to worry about that now. He was panting hard, his breathing hurt him, and his throat was sore. And they were gaining on him. He knew he couldn't go much further, not like this, not carrying her too.

And with every step, they were gaining ground on him. They were going to catch them and take Grace, and there was not a fucking thing he could do to stop them.

'I'm sorry, Gerard...'

Suddenly, a high pitched ringing sound filled the air. Kobra couldn't believe his ears: his communicator was buzzing, someone was trying to contact them. Supporting Grace with just the one arm now, Kobra felt inside his jacket, pulled out the small device and flipped a switch.

For one crazy split second, he actually wondered if he was about to hear his brother's voice on the other end.

He cursed himself inwardly.

'You know that's not possible. Get a fucking grip, Mikey.

"Hello?"

"Kobra, is that you?"

"Ghoul!" A thrill coursed through him. "Thank fuck you're okay. Where are you?"

"Just ahead of you."

"What?"

"As soon as I got a signal, I started scanning for your communicator and I found you. Jet and I are driving straight to you guys. Just keep running."

Kobra's was sprinting, but the Dracs chasing him were still gaining. How the hell did they keep going? He already knew the answer to that of course. The drugs BLI forced into their drones systems every day kept them in perfect condition. And perfectly compliant too, obviously.

But right now, they had the advantage.

"We can't go much further!" Kobra shouted into his communicator. "Where the fuck are you, Ghoul?"

"Directly ahead of you, only a few moments away. You'll see us any second now. Almost there!"

His chest was hurting. He stole a look over his shoulder. A few yards more and they would be on top of them.

"Ghoul, I don't see you..."

All he heard was static.

'What now?'

"Frankie! Can you hear me?" Kobra shouted.

Nothing.

'It was hopeless.'

"Kobra!" Grace suddenly yelled, pointing straight ahead. "LOOK!"

And then, blessedly, he saw it. Their car was speeding straight towards them, and Kobra could have cheered with relief. The car screamed to a halt next to Kobra and Ghoul threw open his door and scrambled out. He took Grace from Kobra and bundled her into the car.

As soon as Grace was safe, Ghoul turned his attention back to Kobra.

"What happened?" He demanded. "Where's Party? Why isn't he with you?"

Kobra could only gaze back at him, breathing hard. What could he say? What were the right words?

"What are you two doing?" Jet threw at them, sticking his head out of the open window. "Get the fuck out of there!"

They both heard shouting from behind them. The Dracs were almost in range, and were aiming their weapons directly at Ghoul and Kobra.

"Get in!" Ghoul snapped to Kobra, and he came to his senses. He raced round to the back of the car, and pulled open the other door, and threw himself in. He saw Ghoul had slipped into the seat beside Jet and was holding onto the dashboard in preparation. Kobra met Jet's gaze for a second, and then Jet was spinning the car around expertly, and the engine roared its outrage. They saw the Dracs opening fire, and Jet swore under his breath. He finished turning the car around and slammed his foot down hard. Within seconds, they were zooming away, leaving the Dracs, and the town, in their wake.

Finally, Kobra had the chance to catch his breath.

"Thanks." He whispered. He pulled Grace closer to him, wrapped an arm around her and held her close. The girl noticed the discomfort he was in, and pushed aside his jacket, seeing the blood on his shirt for the first time. She frowned, ripped off a section of her own clothing, and pressed it to his wounds. She then smiled at him gently, trying to be comforting.

Kobra could feel the lump in his throat, and he broke eye contact with her, turning to see Jet and Ghoul exchanging worried glances.

"You okay?" Jet asked, quietly.

"Yeah, we're fine. A couple of cuts, that's all." He responded, and turned and gazed out of the window, his eyes drawn to the sun shining in the distance. "What happened to you guys after we split up? We tried to warn you that the town was crawling with Dracs, but the communicators went down."

"We noticed that too," Ghoul replied. "We knew something was up with that fucking place from the off, and had just about finished filling the car up with gas when all those Dracs started appearing from everywhere. We fought our way out and drove clear, and then tried to contact you and Party."

And the mention of Party's name, overwhelming grief and guilt instantly hit Kobra. He banished any thoughts of Gerard, not wanting to picture him or what he could be going through at that moment. If he was still alive, of course. Kobra brushed his hair out of his eyes, conveniently wiping the tears threatening to spill at the same time, and then looked back at Ghoul.

"So, how did you get the communicators working again?"

Ghoul noticed the sudden change in conversation. He frowned, but didn't press the issue. He already feared the worse anyway, and he was not desperate to have his fears confirmed.

"Once we were away from the town, the communicators worked. We figured the Dracs were blocking the signal. You must have gotten far enough out of range for us to find you, I guess. The block was the reason we couldn't hear the Doc's broadcasts either. Korse's doing." His eyes narrowed. "Guess the bastard doesn't want these people hearing the truth. God forbid they get the chance to make up their own minds."

"That's what Party said," Grace piped up.

They all turned to look at her. She swallowed, and glanced away.

Ghoul cleared his throat. "Kobra, what happened to you guys?"

Kobra grimaced. He looked down at his hands, not able to look Ghoul in the eye. "We got surprised by the Dracs in the store while we were buying supplies." He blinked. "There were so many of them. Too many. We were surrounded."

Ghoul could feel the dread building inside of him. "The two of you escaped," he stated, and then, more quietly; "Where's Party?"

Kobra couldn't find the words. He chewed on his lip nervously, his eyes locked onto his gun.

"I asked you a question, Kobra." Ghoul continued. His tone was low, dangerously so. "Where is he?"

When Kobra did speak, it was so quietly, Ghoul wasn't certain he'd heard him right.

"He held them off."

"What?"

Still, Kobra couldn't look at him.

"All three of us were trapped. It was hopeless. I was gonna fight, you know? Me and him, a fucking fight to the death with those bastards if that's what it came too, but Party had other ideas. He told me to take Grace and go, said she mattered more than anything else, he made me, I didn't want to." Finally, he glanced up at Ghoul, who had turned deathly pale. Kobra swallowed hard. "He said he'd stay there, keep them back while we got away. I don't know what happened to him."

Jet tightened his hold on the steering wheel. "If I know Party, he'll be fucking Korse up right now, and any Drac who gets in his way." He looked at Kobra in the rear view mirror. "He'll be fighting, Kobra. You know it."

Kobra brought a shaky hand up to his forehead. "If he's not dead already."

"No," Ghoul whispered. His voice broke as he continued. "Korse will need information from him. He won't just kill him."

Kobra felt a pang of hope, but that quickly turned to fear when he realised what the alternative meant.

"He'll question him?"

"I guess so."

Panic coursed through Kobra. "And that means he'll be fucking tortured, doesn't it?"

Ghoul didn't reply.

Kobra sprang forward in his seat, so violently he caused Jet to swerve the car. They all fell to one side, but Kobra was too furious to notice. He had never felt so hopeless. This thought had already crossed his mind; he had dismissed it, not wanting to picture Korse hurting Gerard, and Kobra not being able to do a thing about it.

Now, he had to face it. So he took it out on Ghoul.

"You're talking about my brother being tortured, aren't you, Frank?" He asked, fury evident in his tone.

Frank started in surprise, and then turned to regard the younger man angrily.

"Since when are we using our real names, Kobra? You know the rules."

"Yeah well, Gerard isn't here to enforce his rules, is he?"

"Doesn't mean we're gonna go to fucking pieces, okay?"

"You taking charge then, Frankie?" Kobra taunted. "Big surprise. Didn't take you long did it? Gerard has only been gone five minutes and you've moved on already..."

Ghoul saw red. He made a grab for Kobra. "Don't you fucking tell me what I'm feeling. You have no fucking clue, okay?" He leaned closer. "You wanna blame someone? Look in the mirror!"

The younger Killjoy flinched. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're the one who fucking left him there, Mikey!"

Kobra stared back, open-mouthed.

"You sonofabitch! I'll fucking kill you!" He hissed, and then he grabbed for the door handle. It was locked. The car always locked automatically when all the doors were shut. Added protection, Gerard had called it. Kobra swore angrily, and Grace gasped, hands over her ears as she tried to block his angry words out.

"Jet," Kobra barked. "Stop the fucking car!"

"No," Jet replied abruptly.

Frank tutted. "Don't be fucking stupid, Kobra!"

Kobra ignored him. "Let me out right now! I'm not staying in here with him another..."

"Guys," Jet said wearily, speaking loudly and clearly. "Both of you need to calm – the – fuck – down. This isn't helping us and it definitely isn't helping Gerard, okay? We gotta stick together on this, got it?"

Kobra took a deep breath. He glanced away from Ghoul, trying to control his temper. He looked over at Grace, and felt regret when he saw her distressed state. He reached out and stroked her hair. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, and when he saw her tears, he felt terrible.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

She nodded, moving her hands away from her ears.

Kobra turned to Ghoul. "You too, Ghoul. I'm just shit scared, you know?" He looked down. "And you're right about me. I did leave my brother in that room to be tortured. I ran like a fucking coward. This is all my fault."

Ghoul sighed.

"I'm the one who should be saying sorry, Kobra. I didn't mean any of that shit. It wasn't your fault." He spoke kindly, more quietly. "You did the right thing getting out of there, protecting Gracie."

Kobra gave him a small smile. He appreciated Frank's words, but it didn't make him feel any better.

He knew the guilt would never go away.

Jet Star cleared his throat. "What do we do now?"

Ghoul grimaced. "We'll finish what we set out to do. Get Gracie back to base. Party told me the Doctor went on and on at him about how important she was." He glanced at the girl, who was now gazing at him with wide eyes. "Let's finish the job."

Ghoul clenched his fists. "And what about Par-" He paused, then spoke again, more softly; "What about Gerard?"

A dark look fell across Ghoul's face.

"If Korse hurts him, I'll rip out his fucking heart." He stared straight ahead. "We'll see Grace home, and then go back." He stole another glance at Kobra. "We'll get him back, Mikey."

His tone helped Kobra, calmed him. He nodded gratefully.

Jet was thoughtful. "We'll need a plan. Can't just go blasting our way back in there, Ghoul. Korse will be expecting that."

Ghoul nodded. "The Doc will know what to do."

XXX

"It's an honour to meet you finally, Gerard Way."

Party stared unblinking, his eyes locked on Korse's. The other man was smirking, his gun still touching Party's head.

"Where are the others?" Korse whispered, his lips almost grazing Party's neck.

"What others?" Party replied, almost nonchalantly.

"There were more of you Killjoy scum in this room before," Korse continued. "They didn't disappear into thin air, so how did they get out?" He tilted his head again. "I thought I heard a window smash. I assume you delinquents had something to do with that?"

Party shrugged. "Just me." He smiled. "Sorry. I'll pay for the damage."

Korse paused. "Oh really?" He leaned back slightly. "I wonder if you are stupid enough to lie to me?"

Party didn't bother to reply. He just kept staring.

Korse's smile widened. "I guess you are," he mused. Suddenly, he slammed his gun against Party's temple. Party grunted in pained surprise and fell to his knees from the force of the blow. He slumped there, at Korse's feet, trying to clear the throbbing hurt in his head. Korse, meanwhile, kicked out at Party, knocking him to one side, leaving his way clear to the broken window that Party was trying so hard to keep from the other man's view.

"Thought so," Korse muttered as he peered out. "So, this is how Kobra Kid and that brat running with you made their miraculous escape. Did you actually think I wouldn't notice, Poison?" He shook his head, chuckling, his hands clasped behind his back. "They couldn't have gotten far." He glared down at Party once more. "How long ago? When did they run?"

"I don't remember." Party mumbled.

Korse snarled. He hurled Party up by his hair, and shook him painfully. Noticing the burn mark on the other man's arm, Korse then grabbed him by his wounded arm and squeezed. Party moaned, trying to dislodge his enemy's hold on him, but his efforts were useless. "I asked you a question, scum!" Korse hissed in his prisoner's ear. "Answer me!"

Party closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain and Korse's words. He would not give in. After a few moments, Korse released his hold on Party, and the younger man slipped back down to the ground. Korse regarded him for a second, and then shrugged. "No matter. It couldn't have been longer than a matter of minutes." He turned to the nearest Drac. "Get after them. They would have left prints in the sand. Find them, and bring them back here to me. Alive." The majority of the Dracs filed out of the room, and left only three remaining with Party and Korse. The hateful man smiled down at Party. "You don't want to talk to me, Way? That's a shame. Let's find out how much looser your tongue is when it's your younger brother's life in the balance as well as your own, shall we?"

Party gaped at him.

'How could he know?'

He tried to bluff it.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't got a brother anymore. You killed him, with the rest of my family."

Korse feigned surprise, and then dropped down beside the weakened Killjoy. "You'll quickly realise that lying to me is pointless, Way." He leaned closer, whispering in Party's ear. "I know everything about all of you maggots. Gerard and Michael Way, Frank Iero and Raymond Toro. I know how you met Frank and Raymond, I know about the other members of your pathetic little band of rebels that you have gotten killed along the way." Korse gripped Party's chin harshly, forcing him to look at him. "I know you, Gerard Way. And I know every little detail of how you and Doctor Death Defying have been working to destroy everything I've given my whole life and soul to help build." He released Party, and stood up straight again, regarding him with disdain. "I am going to make you pay for every last moment of stress or concern that you and your little friends have caused me."

"I hope there will be much more to come," Party spat. "Even if you kill me, they'll keep coming."

Korse raised an eyebrow. "We'll see."

He looked out of the window again, and his lips twitched as he saw his Dracs examining the tracks, considering the route Kobra and Grace used, desperate to carry out his orders.

"Do your soldiers ever disappoint you, Party Poison?" Korse wondered. "Mine do. They couldn't even figure out for themselves that your brother and the girl escaped through the window. I wish my Dracs had some of your cunning and intelligence." He smiled down at him. "I could do with a slave like you."

Party bristled. "I'll never be a slave," he retorted. "I don't belong to anybody. That's what freedom is all about."

"You consider yourself a free man, pride yourself on your originality," Korse smirked; "And yet you follow Doctor Death's orders without question?"

"Yeah," Party threw back. "But I choose to do that. He doesn't own me. If I didn't agree with him, I could tell him without fear of being ghosted, killed, or fucking reprogrammed for my trouble. Tell you what Exterminator, maybe you'd have more luck fighting me and my pals if your drones still had the use of their own brains. If they could think for themselves, they'd be more useful, you know?"

Korse considered this. "Thinking is overrated," he replied. "Thinking leads to unrest and chaos. There is no chaos in Battery City."

Poison snorted. "There's no freedom in Battery City either. People need imagination."

"What good has having an imagination done for you, Poison?" Korse's eyes flashed. "Look at the predicument you are in now."

Party shook his head in amusement. "A bit of imagination, and maybe you'd have been able to catch all four of us a long time."

"I found you. It's only a matter of time now until I have the rest." He smiled. "You are their weakness. They won't leave you here to die."

"You can't guess at what they'll do, Korse. That's my point."

Korse regarded him. "You are my prisoner. I outsmarted you."

"You really didn't," Poison threw back. "And besides, it took you long enough to find me, didn't it?"

A chuckle. "And this belief that keeps you fighting, imagining that you can prevail against such overwhelming opposition," He smirked. "You call that free will? I call it stupidity."

"At least I made up my own mind and gave myself the choice," Party fired back. Then, he was thoughtful. "But yeah, that does keep me going. And also the fact that we have something worth fighting for." He rubbed the sweat off of his forehead. "What do your drones have to die for?"

"They live to obey me."

"They live for nothing." Party responded. "Least of all serving you. They are robots." He looked up. "But, with the personality you have, you're no better than a machine yourself. And that's why, in the long run, you're gonna lose." He paused. "Aren't you, Korse?"

Korse seemed to think over his words. And then, with an angry hiss, he began to kick the other man in the ribs repeatedly, only stopping when Party cried out when a rib cracked. He then grabbed the Killjoy by his jacket, and threw him away from the window, into the centre of the room. Party landed awkwardly, grunting in agony as he laid there. He moaned softly, and tried to catch his breath. He couldn't help but flinch as Korse stalked towards him once more.

Korse hurled Party up once again. "You think you can win? You won't. You'll die, just like your pathetic mother and father."

Party tried to pull away. "Don't talk about my parents!" He snarled.

"Why not?" Korse taunted. "They were both weak idiots who thought they could stand against Better Living, to save their children. You are weak too, Party Poison. And you will meet the same end as them, mark my words."

"Fuck you!"

"Language, Gerard!"

Party glowered at him. "That's not my name any more."

"Yes, it is," Korse argued. "'Gerard Way' is the name you were born with. The name you registered to the company with. You took our drugs once. You were a part of what you hate then, until that broadcaster and his minions poisoned your mind. 'Party Poison' is a monstrosity, and a lie."

"It's who I am," Party retorted. "'Gerard Way' reminds me of the past, and feeling as if I'd lost all my originality, just having to follow blindly, without question, like the rest of the world. 'Take the drugs and shut the hell up.' Become a drone. Until I was told who, and what, BL/Industries really were." His eyes narrowed. "So you came after me, and you murdered my parents."

Korse shrugged. "I did my duty."

"And now I'm doing mine." Poison retorted. "And I'm doing it for them, and for Mikey."

Korse's lips twitched. "Ah yes, Mikey."

Gerard blinked. Idiot

"The brother you happily led into your dangerous, sick, demented world." Korse snarled. "You'll get him killed too. You'll get them all killed."

"It's his choice," Party told him, bluntly. "They all had a choice whether they wanted to stay with me." He lifted his head. "That's right, Korse. A choice.

"Liar!" Korse suddenly shouted. "You didn't give any of them a choice. They followed you blindly. They always followed you, didn't they?" And then, more calmly, he added. "You are a fugitive, Way. A rebel. You are a piece of dirt, an insect that needs to be squashed."

Party actually smiled. "Yeah, maybe. But at least I'm a somebody."

"Yes, you are." Korse mused. "The leader of the Fabulous Killjoys. Well, Party Poison, tell me about Doctor Death Defying; who is he?"

Party pursed his lips together. He knew this had been coming.

"I don't know," he said carefully. "He just broadcasts on the radio and we like what he says. That's all."

Korse raised an eyebrow. "Lying to me is foolish, Poison. You will answer my questions. Everyone always does."

"Is that right?"

Korse ignored the flippant remark, and carried on. "How are you tied to this Doctor? Why are you so loyal to him? Does he give you drugs? What kind of Doctor is he?"

Party did not bother to respond. He had nothing to say.

With a sigh, Korse changed tack. "Nothing? Well, tell me about the other Killjoys then. For example, where is the nearest base from here? Where were you heading to?"

"I don't know."

"You are their leader, you must know!" Korse snarled.

"Don't you get it?" Party replied, almost pleasantly. "I'm not gonna tell you a fucking thing, you moronic bastard."

Korse backhanded the Killjoy, hard, whipping Party's head to the side sharply. The younger man took a moment to compose himself. Then, he looked back at Korse, and smiled.

'I'm winning.'

At that moment, the strap around Korse's wrist began to beep. With a look of hatred to Party, Korse answered the call.

"Yes?"

"Sir, the Killjoys have gone."

"What do you mean, they've gone? Gone where?"

"They drove away. We almost caught two, the youngest and the girl, but the others helped them to escape in their car. They have left the town."

Korse glanced at Party, who was pretending he hadn't heard.

"Very well," Korse snapped into his communicator. "Return here at once."

He cancelled the call, and then smiled at Party, clearly amused.

"They can't care too much about you after all, then. Have to say, I'm surprised; I thought you rebels always stuck together."

"They think I'm dead."

Korse blinked. "Perhaps. Or, they simply don't give a shit about what happens to you." He turned away from Party, his hands clasped behind his back, apparently considering.

"Drac," he snapped, at last, addressing one of his drones. "Fetch me the prototype from the vehicle, would you?"

The Drac inclined its head, and then disappeared to carry out his instructions.

Party eyed Korse nervously. He didn't like the sound of that. Korse saw his unease and he smiled warmly. "Oh, don't worry, Killjoy; you'll understand soon enough. But once you do, you might just wish that you'd talked to me when you had the chance."

"Don't bet on it."

Korse laughed. "Still defiant, Gerard? Good." He leaned over the younger man, gently fingering Party's red hair. The Killjoy felt sick to his stomach.

"Get the fuck off of me." He growled.

Another cold chuckle. "So unfriendly. Typical Killjoy. You know, Party? I could give you your life back. No more running, no more being chased. Just peace. I can reprogramme you, put you back into civilisation. You can forget all of this unpleasantness forever. Start again, a new, improved life." His hand moved to Party's groin. "I could personally see to improving your life dramatically. Give you everything you could ever need, in return for a few favours, obviously..."

He kissed the younger man's neck.

Party was disgusted. His stomach turned.

Korse rubbed him through his clothes. "So, Gerard, what do you say?"

"I say: get your dirty hands off of me right now, or I will rip your throat out with my teeth." The Killjoy's eyes were blazing. "You perverted freak of nature."

Korse froze. He removed his hand from the younger man's lower body, and instead balled it into a fist. He grabbed the Killjoy by the throat, pinning him down helplessly beneath him. "Arrogant little fool," he snarled, and then he proceeded to pound Party's face as hard as he could with his fist. Blow after blow fell, and all Party could do was lay there and take it. He wondered if Korse would actually kill him, ending it then and there.

"Sir?"

Korse paused, breathing hard, his eyes flaming, his fist held in mid air.

A Drac had entered the room, and was standing behind Korse, waiting. Its leader finally released his hold on his victim's throat, and then turned and held out his hand. The Drac gave him a contraption that resembled a gun. Party, his face bloodied and bruised and one eye so badly beaten that he could hardly open it, looked on, completely confused.

A drug gun?

"A shooter?" He muttered. Korse's lips twitched but he didn't reply. Despite the pain he was in, Party snorted. "You think I haven't seen one of those fuckers before? Had that used on me plenty of times back in the old days, Korse. Hell, I used to shoot your fucking darts into my own arm with that thing once upon a fucking time. That's how you control people, isn't it? You and your cock-sucking company fucking around with people's minds. You wanna do that to me? Well, it won't work."

"No?" Korse asked, amused.

"Your drugs don't work on me," Party told him, proudly. "The Doc saw to that. So, go ahead and stick your fucking drug darts in my arm. I couldn't give a shit."

Korse chuckled. "This isn't a control drug, Party. It's something altogether new and exciting. A fresh solution Better Living Industries has come up with to deal with the rebel menace, and any traitor who has ever aided any of you, in a clean and efficient manner. There are ten different levels, ten different points of intensity. Level Eight reduced the most recent test subject into a completely vegetable state. It's only right I should perform the final tests on the Killjoy leader before it's official release into the world."

He grabbed for Party's beloved jacket then, and ripping it off of him, he tossed it into the corner of the room. The rough treatment caused Party to cry out, much to Korse's pleasure. "That rib must be painful," he cooed. "Why don't I give you a little something for the pain?" Party didn't respond. Korse smiled, and leaned over his victim. He brandished the shooter like a weapon. "Hold still," he whispered. "You'll feel a slight prick." He chuckled. "To begin with."

Korse then shot the drug dart into Party's bare arm.

And then moved back.

And waited.

Party felt a sharp pain in his forearm when the dart entered. He swore angrily. That fucking company and their freakish drugs. He then readied himself, unsure of what to expect. His eyes never left Korse's. Then, with no more delay, the agony came. It was so intense, so all-consuming that Party lost control of his limbs. He knew he was screaming but could hear no sound, knew he was writhing uncontrollably but could no longer feel the floor beneath him. All that mattered was the pain. There was no other thought in his head, all he knew was the torture he was going through and the silent prayers he was sending up for it to end. No one was listening. He clawed at the ground around him as he desperately tried to escape the agony he was enduring, but he was trapped by the unseen force with which he had been injected. The drug that was coursing through his system, claiming him, destroying him. As everything began to fade to black, Party's final thought was how relieved he was that his suffering was almost finally over. He knew he was going to die, and he welcomed it.

'No more. Please.'

And then, the pain lessened. He could see and hear again. His senses had returned. He blinked. His head and eyes hurt, and he swallowed the bile back down that was coming up his throat. He focused on the smirking face of Korse, who was standing over him, apparently enjoying every second of Party's agony. Finally, the pain was over, and Party was aware that he was lying on his back, his entire body soaked in sweat. There was not a part of him that didn't ache from the ordeal to which he had just been subjected. It took him a few seconds longer to realize that Korse had placed his boot on his chest, and was pinning him down.

"That was just a demonstration for you, Way." Korse mocked him. "I only used level two on you. Imagine how a higher level would feel. The pain is so much worse, Gerard. Some rebels we tested it on, they only lasted two minutes on level five before they lost their minds. How will you do, will you make it past level six?"

Party gazed back at him. And, just for a moment, he felt a flicker of fear.

Korse beamed down at him and Party knew why; he'd seen the panic there too, only too clearly, on the other man's face.

And Party knew the bastard had won.

"So," Korse purred, stroking Party's hair once again, "Now you're smart enough to be afraid of me, Way? Too late, scum." He stepped away from the Killjoy, and smiled, showing teeth. It was not a nice smile.

"I still have some questions for you, Party Poison. And you will answer them, one way or another."

Party did not respond.

Korse held up the shooter once more, and was delighted to see Party flinch.

"Now then, Killjoy," He continued. "Shall we begin again?"

TBC
Tags: burning star, fic, mcr
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