Small TW: This chapter mentions weight loss as a result of not eating. I've underlined the first word in the paragraph that mentions it, so keep an eye out for that if this subject could be harmful to you.

Frank's POV

"So," Alison starts, turning her attention away from the boot that she is struggling to put on, instead directing it toward me, "what all is on the agenda for today?"

"Well, we have to take Alex to D and see what he can do for him. We might stop by Tommy's afterward- I think I remember Poison mentioning something about wanting to go there." I sit up on my own mattress, stretching my arms above my head and hearing a loud click from my shoulders. "That never used to happen, you know- the clicking. It's a new thing."

"I mean, how often did you sleep on shitty dumpster mattresses in the city, or hold a gun raised for an extended period of time? We're definitely not treating our bodies with the utmost care out here." She firmly grabs the ankle of her boot and shoves her foot into it, successfully forcing it on. She absentmindedly laces it up as she looks back to me. "You wanna hear something real fucked?"

I nod in response to her question, and she grins, lifting her hands to cradle the crown of her head and her chin. In one swift motion, she jerks her head to the side, causing the bones in her neck to crack loudly.

"Oh, that's sick," I laugh, taken aback by the amount of noise. "Be careful with that, Ali, you're gonna paralyze yourself."

"Yeah, yeah," she laughs, sticking her tongue out at me slightly. "I'm gonna head downstairs. Want me to have coffee poured for you?"

"No, I'm okay. But if you get some for yourself, I might steal a few sips," I flash a smile at her as she stands from her mattress and exits the room, with only a nod in confirmation as she shuts the door behind her.

I glance around the room, eyes landing on the small window letting in light. It's not the kind of window you can look out of serenely as you lose yourself in thought. The frame of it is stripped and covered in scratches and cracks, worn down by time and neglect, and the glass pane is decorated with a thick layer of dust, diluting the light that enters the room. Everything in the diner is sort of that way- decrepit, lived in but not up kept. The state of this place would not fly in Battery City, that's for certain. We've found a home here, but the juxtaposition between the appearance of the diner and the appearance of buildings back in the city is almost jarring.

"Ghoul," Poison's voice, followed by a knock on the door, jolts me out of my thoughts. "You up?"

"Yeah," I reply, standing up from my mattress and crossing the small room to the door. I turn the handle and swing it open, revealing Poison standing on the other side, already dressed and prepared for the day ahead of us. "What's up?"

"I was checking to see if you were ready, but..." he looks me up and down, and I follow his gaze, feeling scrutinized. In contrast to his put-together appearance, I'm still only dressed in the boxers and socks I wore to bed.

"I'll get ready now," I offer sheepishly, even though he hasn't verbalized any disapproval at the fact that I'm not yet ready.

"Try to hurry," he nods at me curtly, his eyes meeting my gaze again, staying there with almost intense intention, and his face completely void of any readable emotion. "I want to get started with our errands as soon as possible." He turns sharply and rounds the corner to the staircase without another word.

"On it," I call out after him, though I'm unaware if he's even still paying attention. I step away from the door, leaving it open as I approach the small cardboard box full of my belongings. I lean down and pull out the clothes that I haphazardly threw in there the night prior, tossing every article except for my jeans onto my mattress.

I bend down and slide one leg into a pant leg, my bones protesting the motion with loud groans, and then the other. The jeans feel looser on me than they used to, hanging off of my hips so much that I have to clutch them in my hand to keep them from falling. With my free hand I grab my belt, quickly sliding it through my belt loops and fastening it.

I don't feel hungry that much anymore; I guess my stomach has adapted to the lack of food available. I didn't even really notice how little I eat now, and, subsequently, how much weight I've lost, until it affected the fit of my clothing.

I reach down again, grabbing my t-shirt and vest. I slide the shirt onto my torso, vaguely registering the looser fit of this article of clothing as well, and then my vest. I retrieve my gun from the box, securing it in my holster absentmindedly as I toe my shoes on.

I exit the bedroom and turn the corner to go down the stairs, voices in the lobby of the diner becoming clearer with each descending step. I step into the lobby, finding Alison and Alex sitting in a booth, and Poison sitting on the counter.

"I don't understand why they wanted to execute me. I mean, I know that BLI is a force to be reckoned with, but wanting to kill me over shit-talking seems a little excessive," Alex huffs , cupping a mug of coffee in his hands, clearly exasperated.

"I don't think it's about what you did as much as it is about what you might do. Criticizing BLI doesn't quite fit their criteria of subordinance, and any move against them, no matter how insignificant, could be a catalyst for revolution. Once you defy them, you become a... time-bomb against them," Ali replies from the seat next to Alex, shaking her head ruefully. Her sight catches me as I walk toward her, causing her to grin and hold out a mug toward me.

I grab the mug from her and take a sip, grimacing at the unpleasant taste and lukewarm temperature.

"Hey, Poison, are we stopping by Tommy's on our way back here?" I ask, taking the seat across from Alex. I hand Alison her mug back, shaking my head to tell her that I don't want any more.

"I was thinking about it, yeah." Poison replies. "Why, do you need something?"

"I was thinking I could get some materials for minor explosives- molotov cocktails, smoke bombs, that sort of thing. Napalm is incredibly easy to make and could prove very useful." I turn my focus to Alison. "I wanted to teach you how to do all of that stuff, too."

She nods her head enthusiastically and smiles at me. "Yes, I'd be very interested in that. I've been wanting to develop some new skills, anyway."

"Do you know how to make all of that stuff?" Alex asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, I used to do stuff like that occasionally back in the city. It was really more of just a fun hobby, but I guess it could come in handy out here."

Alex nods his head thoughtfully and gazes back down at his mug, but I can tell by the way he's gripping the handle that his mind is elsewhere. His knuckles are white with strain, and there's a slight tremor visible in his hands.

I glance over at Poison, and see his eyes trained on Alex's hands, a look of sympathy flashing onto his face momentarily, and then being masked just as quickly as it had appeared.

"We should get going," he speaks clearly. He has this uncanny ability to grab everybody in the vacinity's attention when he speaks: a certain presence to his voice that almost demands an audience. "Kobra and Jet are staying here."

***

The Trans Am comes to a shuddering halt outside of the same building that the Killjoys brought Ali and I to not too long ago. Poison pulls the key out of the ignition, sliding the keyring onto his middle finger as his other hand opens his door.

I hear Alex exhale in the backseat, and I turn my head to look back at him. His hands are wringing in his lap and he looks up at me, his anxiety over the situation visible in his expression. I stretch my lips into a small, comforting smile, and he returns the expression, though it's clear that his is less genuine.

"Everything is going to be okay," Poison says from the driver's seat next to me, looking at Alex's reflection in the rearview mirror. His tone is softer than I've heard it recently, and it's clear to me that he's putting in effort to be comforting as opposed to his recent unreadable disposition. "Doctor D will know exactly what to do for you."

Alex nods in response, the smile on his face becoming slightly less forced- the difference is almost undetectable, but it's present. He takes a deep breath and then swings open his own door, climbing out of the car in such a way that it looks as if his limbs are heavy with dread.

I direct my focus at Poison, mouthing to him, "that was nice." He gives me a barely-there smile and a curt nod, and then exits the car, slamming his door behind him with a considerable lack of care for volume or force.

I open my car door and mimic his actions, following the group to the building and pondering Poison's behavior. Up until recently, he had been very friendly: joking around, initiating conversation, smiling openly. But recently, he's been much more guarded and nearly impossible to read. I thought it could have been anxiety over the mission, but that has since been completed, and his demeanor hasn't changed. Maybe having Alex at the diner is somehow causing him more stress than usual- maybe the unusual circumstances have put him on edge. Whatever the cause, I hope he's back to normal soon: I much prefer the friendly Poison to the unnervingly impassive one.

Poison raises his fist to the rickety door, rapping his knuckles against it.

"One moment!" Cherri Cola's voice calls from within the building, muffled by the wall between us. There is some shuffling on the other side of the door and then, "hey, guys," he swings the door open, giving us a small wave with his free hand. His gaze falls on Alex, confusion invading his features as he shifts his focus onto Poison, raising his eyebrow in an inaudible question.

"Long story," he answers plainly. This seems to be enough to sate Cola, as he simply purses his lips and nods. "Is D available now?"

"Back room," Cola nods, moving out of the doorway and gesturing us toward Doctor D's location. Poison nods at him, presumably a silent thank you, and crosses the threshold into the building. He makes his way into the back room, the rest of us trailing behind him. Alex observes our surroundings as we walk- I bet seeing the decrepit state of the buildings here is strange for him, since he's used to the almost-too-immaculate look of everything in Bat City.

"Poison! How are you, brother?" Doctor D exclaims, grinning widely at Poison as we enter the room, his cigar clenched between his teeth. He motions his head toward the couch on the back wall of the room, and Poison takes his silent direction. There is clear comfortablity between the two, the way Poison makes himself at home with such ease. "Detonation Diamond, Fun Ghoul," he greets us with less enthusiasm than he greeted Party Poison, but there is still warmth in the greeting. He gestures again toward the couch, indicating that we should sit as well.

"Who is this?" He turns his focus back to Party Poison as Alison, Alex, and I sit down on the worn-out couch.

"My name is Al-" Alex starts, but is cut off by Alison jabbing him in the side with her elbow. He turns to her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She shakes her head "no" at him, and I see realization flood his features.

"He's from the city," Poison answers D's question, taking the reins of the conversation back from Alex after his botched attempt. "Brought out by the Dracs you assigned us to yesterday for execution. We found him after we dusted them, and brought him in with us for the night. We were hoping you might be able to find a place for him out here."

"Alright, City Boy," Doctor Death Defying grips the wheels of his wheelchair and angles himself to more directly face Alex, "what have you got for me? Why were you on track to get ghosted? You got any talents or skills?"

"Well," Alex replies slowly. I can't tell if it's because of nerves or simply because he doesn't know what to say. "They were going to execute me as punishment for a 'fostering insubordination' charge. I assume I got reported for shit-talking."

"That'll do the trick," D interjects. "Skills?"

"I can't think of any that could be useful out here," he answers, his hands beginning to wring again in his lap. "But I learn really fast, and I adapt very well," he adds quickly, almost as if trying to convince D that he's worth being placed with a group.

"Uh-huh," Doctor D contemplates, crossing his arms over his chest. "You got a name yet?"

"Actually, I was considering something." Alex turns his attention to Ali again. "What did you call me earlier? You said, 'once you defy them, you become a...' something. I liked the sound of it."

"Oh, yeah," Ali brightens up, recalling the earlier conversation. "I think it was, 'once you defy them, you become a... time-bomb,' right?"

"Yes, that!" Alex snaps his fingers, grinning at the answer. He faces Doctor D again. "I was thinking I could go by Time-Bomb."

"Well, Time-Bomb," Doctor D starts, drawing out the name as if he's moving it around in his mouth to decide whether he likes it or not, "there's a few crews out here, and a larger number of people who take it solo. If you want a crew, that means you'll have to go on missions. If that'll fly with you, I can hand you off to one of the lower level crews: the kind that takes smaller jobs."

Alex nods his head fervently. "That is completely okay with me."

Doctor D nods and lifts his hand to his bearded chin, scratching it in concentration. He mutters quietly to himself for a few moments before suddenly clapping his hands together.

He grabs the wheels of his chair again, this time backing up and turning toward the desk that holds his switchboard and microphone. He settles his chair at the edge of the desk and begins flipping switches and pressing buttons, causing lights to activate all over the machine. He looks over his shoulder at us and lifts his index finger to his lips, then turns back around and puts on a large pair of headphones.

He grabs his microphone and pulls it closer to himself, and then presses down a large button on it. "Listen up, crash queens, you're here with me, Doctor D, and it's time for the weather. Our beautiful desert sun isn't playing coy with us today: she's Scorchin' loud and proud, ready to get anybody drunk off of her rays if they stay in one place too long. Go ahead and shack up inside if you can help it- and if you can't, you better hope the sun helps you to some Mercy."

He removes his finger from the button and pushes the microphone back to it's original spot, then takes his headphones off. "Alright," he backs his chair up and turns to face the couch once again, "two crews should be here soon. We'll see who's willing to take you in and who you're willing to be taken in by."

"Thank you so much, sir," Alex smiles gratefully at D. His hands are still tightly wound in his lap, but they're not wringing anymore.

"There's no need for that, didn't Fun Ghoul tell you," Doctor D reprimands, but there's an unmistakable tone of playfulness behind his words as he smiles.