The Kids From Yesterday ➸ Danger Days

thirty eight • destiny is calling me

The one time anyone decided to leave Ghoul alone, naturally was the only time anything ever really happened. How he'd been found, he had no idea, but inadvertently he'd pointed a fucked rocket launcher at Mister Brightside. Dropping the weapon and swearing under his breath, Ghoul turned around and stared at the ground.

"I coulda blown you up," he said, looking back at the older Killjoy. "What do you want, and why couldn't it wait until later? And besides, where the fuck have you been for the last ten years?"

Mister Brightside shook his head, glancing around. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I can't stay very long, and this has to be now before they kill me."

"Yes, because they target us individually."

There was a quiet snort and an eyeroll. "This isn't the time, Ghoul, this is serious."

"Everything's the end of the world according to you-"

"Destroya was captured." 

This brought pause, and Ghoul looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. "She what?"

"She was captured, and I have no idea whether she's alive, dead, or otherwise." Brightside looked down, shaking his head again. "I didn't think it would be like this, but I don't really have a choice."

"Whoa, whoa buddy." Ghoul had his gun out and was prepared to shoot, his mind instantly switching to the aspect that Father Desert could be a fucking traitor, and that was disappointing. "Don't you try pulling any shit on me."

"I wouldn't be coming if I didn't need help!" Brightside snapped, staring right at the small man now. "Now lower your gun, and let me explain."

Ghoul slowly did as asked, returning the gun to his holster. "If I find out you're lying to me, I'll shoot you in the dick."

"I deserve it. Come with me." Brightside waved Ghoul along, and he followed against his better judgement after picking his rocket launcher back up. They met at a car, driven off the road and stuck in a ditch, no doubt going to be picked up and plucked for scraps. Leaning the rocket launcher against a rock, he crossed his arms as he looked to Brightside. 

"Well?"

And suddenly he knew why he was there. 

Pulling a small child from the backseat that could have been no more than a couple months old, Ghoul's entire pissy attitude just faded. 

"She was born not too long after you jackasses declared war-"

"That wasn't us, that was Arms Race, and he's dead now," Ghoul corrected, still slowly approaching. 

Brightside's breath hitched in his throat. "I'm going to die, I already know it, and she needs someone to take care of her." 

"And you're trusting me...?" 

"I don't really have any other choice-" he carefully handed her to Ghoul, taking a small sigh, "-we named her Grace. Just don't do what you did-"

The elder Killjoy didn't finish before Ghoul's fist had probably broken his nose with a single punch. "She'll be safe," he said quietly as Brightside yelped quietly after touching his nose. "But it's going to take a lot of explaining." 

"You know that phone booth by the gas station not too far from here?"

Ghoul quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah...?"

There was a long pause of silence in which no questions were answered, Brightside shaking his head. "There's no time, you have to go." Giving the small man a backpack and watching him put it on carefully, Brightside nodded once. "That should get you back to your friends, and there's stuff in there for her..."