Frank's POV

"Poison," Jet Star's voice pulls my head out of its cloudy state. "When we started firing, the Dracs were surrounding something. Should we check it out?"

Party Poison looks toward where the Dracs were standing before the conflict, and his eyes focus on a shapeless lump lying between the corpses. I try to figure out what it is, but the distance and the glaring sun obscure it too much.

"No harm in investigating, right?" Poison shrugs. He turns his gaze back to our group. "Collect masks as we go toward it so we can take them to HOPE later. And keep vigilant as we approach- I don't need any of you dying on me."

Once again we move through the desert, with the sand crunching under us and the sun blaring over us. This time, though, the difference in the atmosphere is impossible to miss. Instead of the heavy air of anxiety hanging thickly over us, there's a sense of relief. Nobody got hurt, and our worry about that has more or less been put to rest.

I approach the body of the first Drac that was killed- the leader of the unit, whose life I took. It's such a surreal thought to have; I took a man's life. He was clearly a corrupt man working for a corrupt corporation, which provides some comfort, but he still was a human life. And now he's a corpse in the desert. I kneel down beside him and tug the latex mask off of his face, watching as his features become visible. He looks like any one of us- there's nothing on his face to justify my taking his life.

But he chose his path. I have to remind myself of that. He chose his path, and he paid the consequence. I did what I had to do.

I sigh heavily and collect my thoughts. I need to learn to not spiral whenever I need to take a life, or else I'll never survive in the desert. Gripping his mask in my hand, I stand upright again.

"You okay?" Kobra Kid approaches me, setting his hand on my left shoulder. "You seemed a little lost in thought."

"Yeah, I'm good," I give him a small smile. He drops his arm back down to his side. "I'm just still adjusting to killing, y'know. It's a rough transition, moving from a world where killing is one of the worst crimes you can commit to a world where killing is just another day."

He chuckles and takes a step, signaling to me that we should keep moving. I follow suit. "I get it. It took me some time too. But it's important to remember that killing isn't 'just another day' to us. It just so happens to be the only way to survive out here sometimes. That's the trade you make when you leave BLI's control."

I make a noise to show my agreement. We continue to walk toward our destination in silence, stopping every few paces to collect masks off of the Dracs that are strewn across the sand. While the weight of their lives still presses down on me, it becomes lighter with each mask I remove. Reminding myself of their second chances with HOPE helps.

"Is that a person?" Alison's voice breaks the silence we walk in, causing everybody to stop in their tracks. I look at the figure that we're walking toward, trying to figure out what it is. From this distance, it does look like a person slumped onto the sand.

Party Poison unholsters his gun and aims it at the form. "Get your guns out and be on high alert."

I remove my gun from my vest holster and check the safety, making sure it's off. On Poison's cue, the group walks forward again, inching closer and closer to the crumpled figure until we're all mere feet away. It's clear now that Detonation was right: it is a person.

Posion glaces over his shoulder and signals to us that he's going to move in closer and inspect, so the rest of us need to survey the area and make sure there isn't an ambush planned. He looks at me directly and motions his head toward the person, silently telling me to move in and help him inspect.

We creep toward the slumped over body as silently as we can, kneeling beside it.

"Does he look familiar to you?" Poison whispers, his volume so low that I can hardly understand the words coming out of his mouth.

"Why would he?"

"If he's a distraction or a decoy, he probably works for BLI. You used to work there. Do you know his status?" Poison explains. His yellow gun is trained on the person's face.

I lean closer to get a better look at the person's face. He looks a few years younger than me, maybe around Ali's age. He doesn't look familiar.

"I don't recognize him. But I did leave a while ago, it's entirely possible he's a new hire." I explain, still surveying the young boy.

"What should we do?" Posion asks, looking away from the boy and at me.

Why is he asking me? I'm not the leader here, he is. I don't want to make the wrong call and end up suffering some consequence.

"Well," I begin, thinking as I'm speaking, "if he was a decoy or a distraction, wouldn't something have happened by now? My guess is he broke a rule and was taken out here to be executed. So now we chose whether we want to leave him here to his own devices or bring him to the diner with us."

He furrows his brow and nods, presumably weighing his options.

"Okay," he pauses, then nods again. "Yeah, okay. Here's the plan," he raises his volume so that the rest of the group can hear him. "We're gonna take this kid back to the diner with us. If we leave him out here, he's as good as dead. He can stay there until he wakes up, then we're gonna figure out exactly what went down out here. Then we can either let him loose or take him to D and get him put in with a group. If Ghoul is right and he was brought out here to be executed, he can't go back to Battery City."

"Poison, I'm all for philanthropy, I really am," Kobra kid replies. He's still facing away and surveying the area with his gun raised, "but why are we doing that? We don't know this guy, and for all we know, we could be putting ourselves in danger."

"We didn't know Ghoul or Detonation when they first came to us either," Poison answers, "and they turned out to be valuable assets to our group. Bedsides, it's not like we're taking him in. We're just watching over him until he wakes up, getting all the information from him that we can, and then sending him to D."

"If you're sure..." Kobra replies, the hesitation in his voice easy to hear.

"I am." Poison's voice is stern as he speaks, seemingly reminding Kobra of his position within the group. "Now help me carry this kid."

Kobra holsters his gun and turns to Poison. The two share a look that I know can be deciphered between them, the way that siblings do, but I have no clue what it means. The younger brother closes the gap between himself and the unidentified boy, crouching down and hooking his arms under his armpits to lift him up. Poison grabs his ankles and the two brothers stand, holding the unconcious boy between them.

"Let's go," Poison states, his voice slightly strained.

I stand up from where I had been crouching and un-holster my gun yet again, preparing for any trouble that may occur between our current location and the Trans Am. I don't think I'll ever get used to the desert heat- I can feel the skin atop my scalp burning as we walk under the harsh rays of sun.

"So where are we going to put this guy?" Alison asks, looking over her shoulder at the two boys carrying him. "The Trans Am is full."

"Shit, I hadn't thought about that," Poison answers. He squints his eyes- I can't tell if it's in concentration or to block out the intense light of the sun. "The trunk, I guess. It feels a little 'kidnapper-esque,' but there's not really room anywhere else. Speaking of, can you grab my helmet when we pass by it? I'd get it myself, but my hands are kind of full," he chuckles.

Alison laughs and nods her head. The atmosphere difference from our way into the gunfight compared to on our way out is insane. I can't imagine laughing an hour ago, but now all the tension has seemingly evaporated.

The remainder of the walk is quiet and surprisingly peaceful. It's almost easy to forget that there were lasers flying in this same spot not long ago, but the corpses strewn across the sand serve as a reminder. I tighten my grip on the hand holding a small bunch of Drac masks.

I try to justify my killing them by rationalizing with myself that they worked for BLI, and their connection to the organization is justification enough. But when I truly think about it, it becomes more nuanced than that. After all, I used to work there too. Granted I was a secretary, not a Drac, so my work there never included performing executions. And yet it's still hard to shake the thought that I was once connected to BLI. Does that mean anybody in the desert would have been justified in murdering me while I was employed there? And if it doesn't, why is it any different when I'm the one murdering BLI workers? What makes my connection to BLI any less incriminating than theirs?

"Ghoul," Alison's voice rings out, drawing me out of my mind. I turn my head toward her, and she gives me a concerned look. I know without her words that she's asking if I'm alright. I smile faintly at her, hoping she understands my silent communication as well as I understand hers.

We approach the parked Trans Am, and Poison lets go of the boys legs, causing his lower body to crumble to the ground while Kobra holds his upper body. Poison removes the car keys from his tight jeans, inserting the key into the trunk and popping it open.

"Do we just..." Kobra trails off, looking between the unconcious boy and the trunk of the car.

"Not much else we can do," Posion shrugs, dangling the keys from his middle finger. "First," he turns to face the boy again and begins to frisk him, patting down his legs and his pockets. "No, nothing. Okay." He grabs the boy's ankles again and lifts him up. He and Kobra unceremoniously shove the boy into the back of the small car. His body is awkwardly contorted to fit the small space.

"That can't be comfortable," Alison grimaces.

"Well, he's not even concious to be uncomfortable," Kobra shrugs, shutting the hatch. "Best we can do for now."

"You know," I point out, walking toward my door, "if he didn't have a weapon on him, that means that chances are he's not with BLI. They wouldn't send one of their own into the desert without protection."

"Good point," Jet Star nods, opening his door and sliding into his seat. "We should get in contact with D as soon as we can to get this kid placed somewhere."

I open my own door and motion for Alison to sit in the middle, then follow her in and close the door behind me. In the front of the car, Poison inserts the keys and turns the engine on, the old Trans Am making noises of protest at her overuse. Poison pats the dashboard encouragingly until the car quiets down, and then turns the radio on. He presses play on the cassette player, and as the sounds of the song begin, he presses the gas and we start our drive back to the diner.