The Kids From Yesterday ➸ Danger Days

twenty five • good-byes are harder when you can't say them

Party Poison had gotten washed up the next day, though he still could honestly feel hands all over him. He'd fixed their bed the next day so it wouldn't move around as much, as one of the legs was broken on Ghoul's side, but after that it was more or less stable. Though part of him wanted to go back into the city to see what else he could smuggle out, he didn't want to go through that again or leave Ghoul alone again. It gave Party a strange sense of anxiety even though he knew he'd be completely fine (to a certain extent). Just like his anxiety regarding Jet Star and his brother, who had disappeared and stayed that way.

Though they hadn't immediately gone into the city, why would they, Jet and Kobra had been driving around the Zones and taking care of draculoids and scarecrows that roamed the desert. 

Of course, it wasn't exactly what either of them had in mind, but Kobra had grown used to the way Jet Star ran his life, and honestly it was something new and something great. He ran his life like he was Johnny Ringo, which may not have been the best thing ever, especially because Johnny Ringo was a murderer, but they were technically outlaws running from the law, so what did that make them? Part of Kobra actually liked the idea of being a cowboy, but at the same time he didn't have the time to think like that.

Luxuries were not common for the two Killjoys out on their own in any honesty. However, making due with what they had was a skill both of them possessed.

Jet had left the car in a part of the city's ever-increasing slums, and the two were keeping to themselves as they walked through the streets with clothes wrapped tight around themselves to keep from the color seeping through the white shirts or the coolness that neither of the two was used to from giving them chills.

The young Jet Star actually seemed youthful in a sense, something his older counterpart didn't really share- sure, he didn't look old or anything, but he always seemed like he had a strange burden of knowledge that never seemed to go away no matter how much he wished it would. In a way, Jet Star was clean, just like the pure city that deep down wasn't really as pure as any of the Killjoys seemed to give it credit for.

The slums were a great example of that, yet as soon as they'd shed the white overcoats, nothing seemed to change. No questions, comments, nor concerns. Just two people making their way downtown.

Kobra's memory had inevitably gotten slightly better, yet at the same time it didn't seem to be progressing anywhere. He remembered certain things, and knew who his brother was, but couldn't piece together entire memories; just fragments that didn't make any sense to the blonde yet just pained the elder to hear him talk about. The memories were like the city: inevitable, and necessary- not desired but needed.

"We're close."

"What made us think this was a good idea again?"

"I dunno, it was your idea."

"Dammit. Well, it's a stupidass idea. I'd say 'let's go back,' but I'm not a complete wuss."

"I'd never let you live it down."

Kobra chuckled.

Jet Star cocked his gun, hovering near the science facility's entrance and shifting his weight as he smirked at the prospect of what he was about to do.

"Meet me back at the car before the sunlight dies. Got me?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"That is-"

"Oh, shuddup, I get it," the blonde said, waving off the chuckling elder of the two and watching him stand up.

Maybe this was why Jet Star had decided to go solo: for the one chance of an adrenaline rush that he could just give in to any urges he had and not worry about upholding an image or feeling bad about afterwards- no, this was so that he could cut loose and not be judged. Live vicariously through himself instead of others.