Frank's POV

"Kobra, Jet," Party Poison calls out loudly to the two boys who are upstairs. "We've got a mission!"

"Wait, what do you mean 'a mission?'" Detonation asks him, shaking her head and furrowing her eyebrows.

"Doctor D hid a message for us in that broadcast, and it's telling us that we're about to be in a fight. You guys go upstairs and grab your things." He points at the staircase, "hurry."

I stand up from the booth and nod at Alison, crossing the diner and making my way upstairs. Each step up the staircase tightens my chest with anxiety- Detonation and I haven't actually fought since we started staying with the Killjoys, and the prospect of conflict is frightening. Scenarios of Ali and the Killjoys getting killed pop into my head, and I desperately try to shake them away.

We reach the top of the staircase and swing open the rickety door to our bedroom, entering the small room. The stale scent of dust hits my face as I turn from the door frame to kneel on the wooden floorboards. I reach into the cardboard box next to my mattress, wrapping my fingers around the barrel of my green gun. I raise the weapon to my eye, checking how many charges I have left in my current clip.

"Don't forget the spare charges, Det," I remind my sister over my shoulder, and she makes a sound of acknowledgement in response. I set my gun down on my mattress and reach back into the box to grab my dingy green vest. I slide my arms into the openings of the garment, then grab my gun again to secure it in the holster attached to my vest. I pivot my body to face Alison as she begins to speak.

"Okay, I've got my gun, I've got a few extra charges, and the bandana. Need anything else?" She places each item into her small backpack as she lists them off, save her gun, which she tucks into her waistband.

"Masks?"

She nods, pulling our masks out of her bag to show them to me, then placing them back within it.

"That's all I can think of, yeah," I stand up from the floor as Alison closes her backpack and puts it on. We make eye contact, and without words I understand that we're both in the same headspace right now- we've let ourselves get used to having our guards down, and we're both afraid of the possible outcomes. I twist my mouth into a grimacing smile, which she returns, and we know that we're in solidarity with one another. "Let's get going."

We make our way down the stairs and back into the lobby of the diner, the air heavy with silence and nerves. Party Poison, Kobra Kid, and Jet Star are waiting with their guns in hand. I wonder if they feel the same way Ali and I do- they've been in the desert a lot longer than we have, and they've been fighting the whole time. Are they used to it? Is this just another day to them? Or are their brains wracked with worry and images of the people they care for ghosted in the sand?

"Let's move," Party Poison instructs. He's far from an open book in the best of circumstances, but his entire demeanor is unreadable now. His voice, his face, and his body language reveal nothing about how he feels. Maybe that fact in itself reveals more than he knows how to.

He leads us all through the kitchen and out the back door of the diner, where the Trans Am is parked per usual. He unlocks the car and opens the back door on the driver's side before opening his own door and sliding into the driver's seat. Kobra Kid crosses the front of the car and opens the passenger's seat door, leaving Jet Star, Detonation Diamond, and me to share the backseat. Jet Star gets in on the passenger side, and I put my hand on Ali's back and nudge her into the car before I enter, closing the door behind me.

"Were you paying attention to what D was saying in the Broadcast," Party Poison makes eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, turning the key in the ignition and bringing the car to a sputtering start.

"Yeah, he talked about the weather, said it was cooler than usual," I answer.

Poison turns his gaze back out of the windshield and switches the car to drive, accelerating and quickly pulling away from the diner, driving off into the expansive sand landscape. "The specific words he used were a coded message. That's how I knew we had a mission, despite him saying nothing of the sort."

"So what was the code?" Detonation asks, squirming to remove her backpack in the cramped car. She sets the small leather bag in her lap.

"If you remember, he said the weather was 'fabulous.' That's how I knew the message was target at us- he says 'fabulous' to indicate that he's talking to the Fabulous Killjoys. Then he said it had been 'four days' since the weather was in the 100's- that 'four' tells us that the fight is in zone four. The place is pretty expansive, so we'll have to find the exact location on our own, but the 'days since' lets us know what zone we can intercept in."

"So how does he do real weather reports? Doesn't he think that they'll be confused for messages?"

Jet Star shakes his head, a faint smile making its way onto his face. "He doesn't usually do real weather reports- people out here have better things to worry about. He does do them every so often, though, and he just avoids using any word to indicate a rebel group. When he signals us, he says "fabulous." He uses "ultra" to signal the Ultra V's. Every group has it's own calling card. If he doesn't use a calling card, you know it's legit."

"That's clever," Detonation responds, nodding her head, impressed. She unzips her backpack and reaches in. She grabs my Frankenstein's monster mask and hands it to me, pulling her own out as well. Her mask- that was white upon purchase- has been spray painted pink to match her jacket and gun. A small doodle of a diamond with a fuse is etched into the cheek.

I feel a slight sense of comfort as I look at my mask, and it's almost enough to calm the nerves I feel. I'm sure when he purchased it, Poison didn't understand why Detonation chose it for me. But seeing Frankenstein's monster causes me to reminisce of life before everything went haywire, when Alison and I used to watch old horror movies, and she'd make stupid jokes about the name Frank and Frankenstein. I smile at my little sister before pulling the mask over my head.

Seemingly following my cue, Alison draws her mask over her eyes. She reaches back into her bag and pulls out the spare charges she packed, handing one to me and putting one in her own jacket pocket. She taps on Jet Star's shoulder and holds one up, silently asking him if he needs it. He smiles warmly at her and grabs the charge from her hand, then turns to look back out the window.

The atmosphere in the car remains stiff as we speed through the desert. The cassette we listened to on our way back from Tommy Chow Mein's plays quietly out of the speakers, the low volume contrasting with the brash sound of the songs. I look at Kobra Kid's face in the rearview mirror and wonder if his relationship with Poison is anything like mine with Alison. I wonder if he's afraid for his brother's life the same way I am for my sister's. He looks up into the mirror and meets my gaze, causing him to squint his eyes in confusion. I smile sheepishly at him and turn away, embarrassed.

The car lurches to a hard stop, almost sending me flying into the back of the driver's seat.

"What the hell?" I exclaim, confused, and put one arm out in front of me to stop my body from moving forward, and the other in front of my sister.

"We're here, keep your voices down." Party Poison instructs. He shuts the car off and removes the keys from the ignition, hanging the keychain off of his index finger.

Without another word, the Killjoys open their doors and exit the car. The two front doors are shut silently, but Jet Star remains standing next to his open door.

"We'll be fine," I tell Alison, turning my head to face her. She smiles meekly and nods. With that, I open the door and climb out of the car, holding the door open for Ali.

Jet Star raises his finger to his lips to indicate that we need to be quiet, and he closes his car door slowly, careful not to slam it. He looks at me, silently communicating that I should do the same, which I do.

Party Poison approaches the trunk of the Trans Am, using the keys hanging from his fingers to unlock and open it. He shoves the keys into his pocket and steps away, allowing Kobra and Jet to reach in. They both pull out motorcycle helmets and lift them onto their heads, moving out of the way of the trunk. Jet Star's helmet is fairly plain, the grey dome only being decorated with a lightening bolt and some yellow and silver tubing. Kobra Kid's, on the other hand, is colorful and loud. The yellow helmet is decorated with a red smile and blue eyes, respectively below and above the visor. He slides the visor down to reveal the words "GOOD LUCK" printed in large white letters.

Party Poison moves back in front of the trunk and reaches inside of it with both hands. He pulls a large blue animal-like helmet out of the vehicle, which he balances on his hip with one hand, reaching up with the other to noiselessly shut the trunk. With the car all closed, he lifts the helmet onto his head, concealing his face and his vibrant, red hair.

"We're near where we should intercept them," Party Poison's voice is so low that I can hardly hear the words he's saying, and I'm sure the mask doesn't help. He motions for us to come closer, and we all crowd in around him. "We're gonna head North until we run into them, but we have to stay alert. And remember when the beams start flying: cover yourself, but leave no man behind."

He grabs his yellow laser gun from the holster on his thigh, resting his finger on the the trigger as he backs away from the group and turns to head North. Kobra Kid and Jet Star grab their guns and follow him, clearly operating on the routine that they've established for this kind of situation.

I feel Alison's fingers interlock with mine, and look down at our hands before looking up at her face, where her gaze is already fixed on me. Behind her mask, I can see the fear in her eyes. I squeeze her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb across the back of her hand for a few seconds. I nod at her reassuringly and drop her hand, hoping that my actions showed to her that I'm scared too. I draw my gun and point to the pink weapon peeking out from her waistband. She looks down, confused, before realizing what I'm suggesting. She removes her weapon, checking that the safety is off.

We silently begin walking toward the Killjoys, falling into step with them a few yards from the car. The only sounds to be heard are our feet trudging through the sand and, at least in my case, my own heartbeat in my chest. The desert sun beats down as viciously as ever, so much so that I can literally see the outstretching landscape warped in the haze of heat. The silicone mask over my face protects me from the direct sun rays, but it also traps the heat, practically cooking my head and causing sweat to form at my hairline. Each step causes my chest to physically ache with anxiety, knowing that I'm walking closer and closer to a gunfight with a corrupt mega-corporation.

Jet Star comes to an abrupt stop, causing the rest of us to freeze in place and look at him. He slowly lifts his finger to the side of his helmet, tapping where his ear is covered. In the distance, garbled voices can be heard. Whether they belong to draculoids or other rebels is unknown, but we all seem to understand that our guards need to be all the way up now.

I hold my gun with both hands, carrying it at my hip, ready to raise it if necessary. The group begins walking again, this time more slowly and with an air of even more worry than there was before. Every crunch of grains of sand under my boots causes my body to tense, and every breath I take sounds amplified in my head.

I'm not sure if I'm cut out for this. Missions like this one are commonplace for the Killjoys, and it has me so on edge that I can physically feel my heart beat in my temples. Wandering the desert was no paradise, and it wasn't exactly safe, but at least I didn't go willingly walking into danger on a regular basis.

My train of thought is derailed as I spot a Draculoid in the near distance. My heart practically stops in my chest as my breath catches in my throat. My whole body is so tense that it's actually painful as I realize that this is real- I'm actually out in the desert about to run into a gunfight with government drones. I stumble backward a few steps, trying to maintain distance between myself and the Drac before he notices the Killjoys, Ali, and I.

Poison tilts his head toward me then toward the Drac, silently informing me of their presence. I nod at him, trying to convey that I've already seen them, and lift my gun to take aim.

"Not yet," Posion whispers, his words barely recognizable behind his helmet. "We're not close enough, your beam probably won't reach them." He scans the area, presumably formulating a plan of attack based on what he sees. "You see that sheet metal over there?" He points with his gun at a small pile of metal scraps about a dozen yards away. "Make your way over there quickly and quietly. That should provide good cover and a clear shot at the closest Drac. There's probably more of them just beyond the one we can see, so try to remain as out of sight as possible."

Tightening my grip on my gun, I move toward the sheet metal. Realistically I know that I'm far enough away from the Drac that they won't hear my footsteps in the sand, but each step feels like a siren blaring "look at me! I'm here to kill you! We're about to be in a shootout!" I glance over my shoulder and see Poison directing Jet and Kobra off to another "post" where they can take cover and move in closer to the Dracs, and then I see him move to his own position with Alison in tow. I notice that he's making sure to stand in front of her; I'm not sure if it's to protect her or to keep her from getting in his way.

I approach the pile of rubbish and metal and crouch down behind a sheet that's propped up to create a small alcove. From where I'm positioned, I can see through a gap in the metal sheets directly to the Drac that I initially spotted, as well as the fifteen or so others that are with them. I notice that they've formed an almost-circle, but I can't see what they're surrounding. I inch closer to the opening to try to get a better look, and I hear a loud crash come from close to me. The Dracs snap their heads in my direction, guns raised and aimed directly at the pile of metal I'm crouched in.

"Shit!" I mutter to myself, shrinking back from the opening while keeping my eyes fixed on the small group. I can tell that they're talking to each other, but I'm too far to make out the words they're saying. My heart feels like it's in my throat as I wait with bated breath for something to happen. The first Drac I spotted, who seems to be the leader of the group, takes a large stride in my direction. Then another. And another. They are quickly closing the space between us, the other Dracs following not far behind, save two who stay guarding whatever they had been surrounding.

"Now!" I hear Poison shout, causing the Dracs to quickly divert their gaze in the direction of his voice.

I dart out from behind the sheet metal I had been crouched behind, raise my gun toward the lead Drac, and pull the trigger. Time seems to move in slow motion as I watch the ray travel through the space between us, and disappear into their chest. Their body falls backward with a thud, and time suddenly returns to speed.

Charges of all sorts of colors, as well as white counterparts, are flying through the air between our two groups. I notice that accuracy isn't a strong suit in battle- everyone seems to be more concerned with firing as often as they can while avoiding getting hit.

I continue firing off shots toward the Dracs, and I attempt to watch where my rays land, but keeping track isn't the easiest task when I also have to watch out for any rays that may be coming in my direction. Just as I watch one of my shots take down a Drac, I hear Jet yell, "Ghoul! Watch out!"

Not knowing where the shot I'm supposed to dodge is even coming from, I throw myself to the ground by the pile of metal, and roll inside ungracefully. My heart is racing and I'm terrified, but somehow actually being in the midst of the battle is less stressful than the moments leading up to it. Maybe it's the adrenaline or maybe it's the fact that I'm not waiting for something to happen anymore. Whatever it is, I realize, doesn't really matter, at least not right now.

I look over at the Killjoys and Alison, doing a quick mental headcount to make sure nobody is down. Jet and Kobra are still up and shooting. Poison is covering Ali, who looks like she's reloading. I look down at my gun to my charge counter. "56" the digital numbers read. Good.

I move further into the pile of metal, approaching the opening that I had looked through before. The two Dracs who stayed behind to guard whatever it is they're guarding are exactly where they were last time I checked, though one of them is firing at us from the distance. I move carefully, trying not to jostle any metal, standing up through the opening. I aim at the first guard Drac, who is too preoccupied shooting at the Killjoys to notice me, and pull my trigger. My ray hits him directly in the face, sending him toppling backward. The second guard looks at his fallen coworker, then at me, lifting his gun to shoot me. I duck back into the pile, narrowly missing a charge straight to the face.

"Holy shit."

I take a deep breath and stand again, firing off multiple shots without aiming. I'm not sure which one it is, but one of my shots hit the second guard Drac, effectively eliminating the two who had stayed behind.

"It's clear!" I hear Kobra shout.

Without even realizing what my body is doing, I sink to my knees and groan. All the tension that had been building up subsides and I'm left crumpled to the ground. I mindlessly reach up and pull the mask off of my face, relishing the air hitting my skin. The relief weighs almost as heavily on me as the worry did. At this moment, I just want to sit here and soak in the victory, and I think everybody else feels the same, judging by how nobody is rushing to regroup.

My time unwinding is short lived as I realize just how hot it is in this little metal alcove. I guess my mind had been too preoccupied earlier to notice the heat, but it makes sense- a shelter made of metal in the desert sun isn't expected to be cool. I begrudgingly crawl out from my hiding place, standing up once I cross the makeshift threshold and securing my gun back in its holster.

"Nice work with that first shot," Posion praises as he walks toward me. His blue helmet lays discarded in the sand where he had stationed himself. "Taking out the leader first is always the best way to get an advantage- then they aren't there to give orders or to coordinate." He lifts his hand in the air for a high five, which I return.

"I had to redeem myself for getting their attention," I chuckle sheepishly, guilt washing over me as I recall the noise I caused that alerted them of our presence.

"Poison! Cover!" Jet Star shouts. Before I can process what's happening, I feel Posion shove me backward, causing me to fall back into the shelter of the metal pile. Then I feel a weight fall on top of me with a sharp exhale.

"What the fuck!" I exclaim, unsure of what just happened. "Are you okay?" I look at my chest and realize that the weight on me is Poison, his mop of red hair the only thing I can really see.

"Yeah, I'm all good," he states, lifting himself up on his elbows. He raises his head to look at me, his face uncomfortably close to mine. "Just taking cover."

I freeze at our close proximity. I can feel his breath landing on my face, and I can feel his chest rise and fall against my own. My gaze meets his and both of our eyes just lock on each other's for a moment. My breath catches in my throat as I look at the older man on top of me. We stay staring at each other for what feels like a few minutes, but is probably only a couple of seconds.

"Uh, sorry about that," Poison breaks the tense silence between us, tearing his eyes away from mine. "Didn't mean to land on you." He backs away from me, crawling backward out of the shelter and standing once he's out. He clears his throat and straightens his jacket, avoiding eye contact with me.

I shake my head in attempt to shake away the cloudy feeling as I sit up, then I awkwardly make my way out from under the sheet metal. I catch Alison's questioning gaze and simply shrug my shoulders in response to her unasked question.

"So," I turn to Jet, "what just happened?"

"We thought we killed them all, but apparently one was just injured. He had grabbed his gun and was aiming at Posion."

"Thanks for the heads up," Poison says, his voice so quiet that it almost sounds like he's muttering instead of speaking. Then, just as suddenly as he had clammed up, Poison seems to snap back into his normal self. "That was great work you guys, but we really need to focus on accuracy during battle. It turned out fine this time because there were so few Dracs, but in bigger battles every single charge you have counts- one empty clip could be the difference between walking out of there alive or walking out with the Pheonix Witch."

I notice that, whether he means to or not, he looks at everybody but me as he's speaking. I know it's because of the moment that just happened in the metal pile, but I'm not really sure what to make of the situation myself. The cloudy feeling I attempted to shake away before comes back to me, intensifying as I find myself staring at red-haired man before me.