Chapter Text
Party Poison blinked slowly awake, his mind still fogged over. Everything around him was white, a pure, unforgiving color that bore daggers into his mind.
The second thing he noticed was the restraints. Thick ropes that circled his arms, legs, and midsection, securing him perfectly upright to a chair. His clothes have been changed too, his desert-worn jacket speckled with the evidence of firefights and claps with Dracs traded out for pressed white pants and a white shirt with the sequence ‘2993A’ stamped neatly in the top corner.
And then everything came flooding back to him all at once. The tape, the fights, his journey across the Zones. His run in with Ghoul. The betrayal and helplessness as he could do nothing to save himself and avoid capture.
It hurt to think about. It hurt so bad. It didn’t feel real, that one moment he was kissing Ghoul, his love for the man finally confirmed, and the next he was staring into Ghoul’s icy grin as his consciousness slipped away.
He was yanked from his disparaging thoughts as a section of the wall swung open, revealing Korse standing in the doorway. He was wearing a similar outfit to Party’s, except his clothes were all black. Of course. The captors wouldn’t dress the same as the captured, now would they?
The creep was smiling, knowing he’d already won. Party fucking hated it. He wanted to thrash against his bonds, to pull until his skin bled, but he knew that if he made a scene, Korse would take advantage of it. He’d probably tighten the ropes, just out of spite.
Instead, he settled on glaring at the Scarecrow as he advanced. The silence hung heavy in the air between them, and Party refused to be the first to break it. He would remain stoic, calm, patient, and defiant. He wouldn’t show any weakness. He wouldn’t let Korse see how scared he was.
“Such a pretty sight,” Korse started, eyes shining. Party wanted to vomit at the sound of his voice. “Party Poison tied up in a chair. A wild animal, captured and bound. Hopefully, we’ll be able to train you,” his grin seemed to widen even further. “It’d be such a shame to put down such an amazing creature.”
“I’m not your f***ing dog,” Party spat, venom seeping into his voice. He wanted to do more, say more, but he remembered the vow of silence he had made to himself earlier.
“Anyone can be trained, Party,” Korse said, his tone mocking. “Some just need more work than others. Luckily, we’ve already started with you.”
What?
Korse read the horror on the redhead’s face and laughed, a loud, jarring sound that made Party flinch. “What, you think everything that’s been happening to you has been a coincidence? The concert, those droids? The Killjoys splitting up? Working with someone on the inside has made everything so much easier.”
The Pornodroids had been sent by BL/ind? How? They had hurt Ghoul, why would they injure the person they were working with?
Unless it was intentional, made to divert suspicion away from Ghoul until Better Living Industries could fully infiltrate the group.
It made sense.
It made Party sick.
Korse let out another laugh as he watched Party put the pieces together. “You Killjoys always thought you were so smart, didn’t you? You believed you could rule the world, make a real change. But nothing’s changing, Party. And soon enough, you’ll be okay with that.”
“I’ll never let you fuckers win,” Party Poison snapped, mind racing. “I’d rather die than accept living in a world run by you.”
Without warning, Korse reached forwards and hit Party across the face. His head snapped sideways, cheek burning as his eyes widened in shock.
“Day one of training,” Korse growled, his fake-sweet voice gone, replaced by something cold and menacing. “You don’t fucking talk back to me, you disgusting Zone Rat. You are nothing, absolutely nothing. Maybe your fancy name and vigilante attitude made you worth something in the Zones, but here, you’re insignificant. So you’ll close your mouth and listen when I talk. Be smart and behave.”
Party Poison didn’t reply for a moment, and Korse looked smug, He thought he’d won. He leaned in close, probably to gloat some more, and Party took advantage of his closeness. He spat out the saliva he had been gathering in his mouth, watching with grim satisfaction as it hit the Exterminator’s chin and slid off his face.
He knew the consequences would be bad. But it was worth it, seeing Korse’s cruel grin melt into horror as he realized what the Killjoy had done.
He watched as the man slowly brought his sleeve up to his face, wiping away the Killjoy’s spit, stuck somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. He did neither, instead choosing to continue observing as the man’s expression shifted to barely contained rage.
“You really are a fucking animal,” he whispered.
Time seemed to slow down as Korse grabbed hold of Party’s shoulder, holding him in place as he sunk a fist into the Killjoy’s stomach.
Dull pain shot through Party’s stomach, and he doubled over as much as possible with the ropes binding him in place. He was only allowed a second of relief, though, as Korse was already preparing to strike the Killjoy again.
He wanted to throw his hands up, to defend himself, but all he could do was sit there and try to hold back tears as Korse landed blow after blow to his gut. He couldn;t cry. Crying would make him look weak. Displaying weakness now would be an act of suicide.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the punches stopped coming. Party sat there, slumped forward, his entire front burning with agony. He could already feel the bruises blooming on his skin underneath the neat BL/ind clothes.
Without warning, Korse tangled his hands into the back of Party’s hair, yanking his head up so he was eye to eye with his captor.
“That’ll teach you to go against my wishes,” he spat into Party’s face, expression alight with fury. “That’s not the least of it, Party. I can do so much worse. Listen to what I say, and maybe you’ll avoid the worst of it.”
He released Party’s hair, but the redhead refused to let his head fall, refused to break eye contact. He wasn't going to give up so easily. To give in would be to go against everything he stood for, and although it hurt, a beating wasn’t going to spontaneously change his core values.
“But for now?” the Exterminator continued, reaching for the door. “Let’s see how you fare without food for a while. Maybe that’ll help get my point across.”
The door closed behind him with a gentle click, leaving Party alone in the white room, in pain and rapidly losing faith on how he would survive whatever Better Living industries had in store for him.