Frank's POV

"You need to get the AC fixed in this thing Poison, I'm dying back here," Jet Star groans, wiping sweat from his hairline. His black helmet rests on his lap. The sun has been below the horizon for a while now, but the car is still sweltering hot.

"Yeah, good luck with that. You got the materials to fix it?" Poison retorts, removing the keys from the ignition. "I'll talk to Tommy and see if he can get me the parts I need, but money is tight. I don't even know if we're gonna get paid for the mission we just did."

"How does getting paid even work out here? Isn't the entire desert population basically jobless drifters?" Alison asks, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"Pretty much all the money in the desert is sourced from Tommy," Poison replies. He opens his door and clambers out of the car. I open my door as well and climb out, holding it open for Alison. "He's basically the only one out here with connections to the city. He pays D to run ads for his shop, and D pays us to complete missions. But sometimes he doesn't have enough to pay us- we never know until we visit him after."

"So, what, you just don't get paid sometimes?" Alison asks, sliding her bag off of her shoulders and grabbing it in her hands. She unzips it and shoves her mask in it, then grabs mine from my hand and stores it away along with her own.

"Pretty much, yeah," Poison answers. "It's not really like we have much choice- we either do these missions or we run the risk of the desert getting overrun by BLI. But D is fair, so he pays us what he can, when he can. Now," he approaches the trunk of the Trans Am, "let's see what's up with this guy."

Poison unlocks the trunk and pops it open. We're met with the frightened gaze of the young boy, who is now awake. He attempts to climb out of the trunk, but before I can even understand what's happening, Poison has his gun drawn and aimed at the boy.

"Woah, wait, Poison, what are you doing?" I exclaim, taken aback by his actions. "This kid doesn't even have a gun on him, he's no threat."

The boy's eyes are even wider now, and directs his gaze at me pleadingly.

"C'mon, Poison, put the gun down," Kobra interjects. "Ghoul is right, there's no need for this." Kobra turns to the boy, "we just need to ask you a few questions, so we're going to bring you inside with us. We're not with BLI, don't worry about that."

Party Poison looks over his shoulder at Kobra, who gives him an intent stare. The older brother rolls his eyes and lowers his gun, placing it in the holster on his pants, but not fully securing it. Kobra extends his hand to the young boy, who accepts it, and helps pull him out of the small trunk.

"You're Party Poison, right?" The boy looks at Poison as he asks the question, his voice timid and shaky. "Like from the Fabulous Killjoys? And you're Kobra Kid," he looks to Kobra. "And Jet Star?" His gaze redirects onto me, "so who are you?"

"Let's go inside and we can talk there, okay," Kobra places his hand between the kid's shoulder blades and gently pushes him toward the back door of the diner.

"Wow, he didn't even know who you are," Alison teases quietly, "the disrespect."

"Shut up," I chuckle, "I bet he doesn't know who you are either."

She scrunches her nose at me and shakes her head slightly, then walks toward the diner. I follow behind her.

Party Poison swings open the door the leads into the kitchen, letting us each pass through it.

"Hey, Ghoul, can we talk for a second?" He grabs my arm as I walk by.

My body tenses and my breath catches in my throat. My mind flashes back to that moment in the pile of scrap metal, where Poison landed on top of me. I look down at his hand on my arm, then back up at his face. I nod at him sheepishly. God, I must look so stupid right now. He caught me so off-guard and now I feel like a deer caught in headlights.

He enters into the kitchen and closes the door behind him, silently watching on as the rest of the group disappears into the lobby of the diner until it's just the two of us.

"I wanted to talk about what happened earlier, back in the metal alcove."

I remain silent and nod at him, encouraging him to go on. My heart is pounding in my chest. Why is my heart pounding in my chest?

"I want to apologize for that. It was unprofessional of me to stay, y'know, on you for so long. We were in the middle of a mission and I behaved inappropriately, so I'm sorry."

I shake my head at him. My body is still tense, and I'm trying to formulate an articulate sentence in my head, but everything is just sort of jumbled up.

"It's fine. Accidents happen, and people get caught off guard. Besides, we had already eliminated all the immediate threats. Don't worry about it."

He flashes me a small smile, but I can tell that my words had little to no affect on his opinion of the situation. Then, as quickly as he had softened, he returns to his previous disposition. He strides passed me and I watch him disappear into the lobby with the others.

I exhale the breath that I hadn't even realized I had been holding. A strange feeling creeps onto me, but I can't quite place it. It's similar to- I want to say- disappointment. But why am I disappointed?

I shake the thought away from my head, deciding instead to focus on the matter at hand: the unidentified boy we came upon in the desert. I walk through the kitchen, attempting to leave the conversation that just occurred behind me as I enter the lobby and join the rest of the group.

The young boy is sitting on one side of a booth, with Kobra and Jet sitting across from him. Poison and Alison stand next to the table. A plastic cup of water sits in front of the boy.

"Great, now that we're all here, let's begin." Poison breaks the silence, startling the boy. "What were you doing in the desert with the Dracs?"

"Wait, I was with Dracs?" He asks, seeming genuinely shocked at the information. I see the realization flash across his eyes as he sinks into his seat. "They were taking me out here to be executed, I think."

Kobra turns to look at me and nods, acknowledging the accuracy of my theory, then turns back to the boy. "Why do you think that?"

The boy tenses up, and his eyes dart to the cup on the table. He lifts a shaky hand to it, then lifts it to his mouth and drinks. Poison stares at him expectantly. He meets Poison's gaze and sets the cup back down.

"I live in the city. Lived? I don't know anymore." He sighs, and I can tell that he's frustrated and confused at his current situation. "I was hanging out with some of my friends this morning and I was sort of shit-talking the way BLI runs things. I guess somebody overheard me and reported what I said, I don't know. All I know is that a couple of hours later, some white coats stormed my house and arrested me for 'fostering insubordination.' They shoved me in a van, poured some medicine down my throat, and next thing I know, I'm waking up in your trunk. I really wish I had more information for you, but everything between being taken and waking up is a complete black out."

The Killjoys remain quiet for a moment, just observing the boy. Finally, Poison speaks up.

"Detonation, stay here and keep an eye on him. Everybody else, sidebar." Poison turns on his heels and walks toward the kitchen, and Jet Star and Kobra Kid stand from the booth to join him.

Alison sits down next to the boy, but I can tell by her expression that she's annoyed at being left out of the conversation. I smile at her apologetically then follow the rest of the group out of sight of the boy and Alison.

"Ghoul, what do you think?" Poison addresses me directly. His arms are crossed over his chest, the blue leather contouring to fit his thin frame.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean: do you think his story sounds plausible? He seems honest to me, but you know BLI better than any of us do; you worked there, and you were in the city a lot more recently than we were." He shifts his weight, leaning on the chipped counter next to him.

I take a moment to think, recalling the information I gathered working in the company's headquarters.

"Honestly, yeah, it all fits. I remember the paperwork of 'fostering insubordination' arrests crossing my desk a few times, so we know that's a plausible charge for him to have gotten. I don't know about the Dracs dragging him out here for execution, though. I was just a secretary, and a lot of stuff there was on need-to-know-basis. But there were rumors swirling around amongst us lower-level workers that Drac units were tasked with taking criminals out to the desert for execution purposes. I can't entirely confirm or deny, but it makes sense as far as my knowledge goes."

I can practically see Party Poison picking through all of the information he's received in his head, trying to make sense of it. After a few moments of silent thinking, he nods his head and clasps his hands together.

"Alright, let's head back out there." He exits the kitchen without another word, and the rest of us do the same. He strides over to the boy, who immediately tenses up.

I feel kind of sorry for the kid. Within the span of a day his entire life was ripped out of his hands, he was abducted by BLI, drugged, scheduled to be executed, shoved in a trunk, and interrogated by a group of random desert rebels. It's probably a safe bet to say that this is one or the worst days of his life. Then again, it's not like I know anything about his life prior to today. Regardless, I'm sure it sucks.

"We have made the choice to believe your story." Posion announces. I can see the kid's body physically relax. "I'm sure you've realized by now that you can't return to the city. If you go back, BLI will find you, and they will execute you. So, whether you want it to be or not, the desert is your new home. So that leaves you with a choice: we can turn you loose right now and you can take your chances finding your own way, or you can stay here overnight and we'll take you to Doctor D in the morning."

I'm sure that Party Poison doesn't understand the way this kid must be feeling right now- when Poison left the city, it was on his own terms, and because he wanted to. He had his chance to say goodbye to his family and to prepare for the lifestyle change. This kid didn't get any of that. This kid had everything ripped away from him, and he had absolutely no say in the matter. I can see on his face the pain this situation is causing him.

"Who, um," his voice is obviously choked up, "who is Doctor D? What would we do if we went to see him."

Jet Stars settles back into the seat across from him and smiles warmly. I don't know what it is about him, but he has this air to him that radiates kindness and comfort. Sometimes he's harder to read than the others, and he tends to keep pretty quiet, but that kindness he has to him is always to prominent.

"Doctor D is sort of like our boss, in a way. He keeps the desert informed, he assigns missions, things like that. He's the one that sent us to you today. If we took you to him, he'd help you to find a place out here." Jet Star explains.

"'Find a place?'," the boy repeats questioningly.

"There are lots of groups out here. We're one example, but we're not the only ones. If we took you to Doctor D, he'd find a group to place you with. Of course you're allowed to roam solo out there, but, in my personal opinion, it's better to roll with a group."

"Okay," the boys nods and gulps. "Yeah, could you guys take me to Doctor D?"

Jet Star nods back at him and smiles, his comforting presence providing a semblance of peace.

"Ghoul, Det, I'm gonna stick him with you guys for the night." Poison says, looking at me. He turns his focus back to the kid, "Just so you know, I'm going to have each one of us awake in shifts keeping an eye on things. It's nothing personal, but we wouldn't have survived out here nearly as long as we have if we didn't take precautions." He turns to me, "You'll take the first shift. Wake Detonation for her shift in a few hours." He focuses his attention on the young boy again. "We'll take you to D in the morning."

The boy nods and forces a small smile. For the first time in the boy's presence, Poison softens a bit, returning the expression before turning and heading toward the staircase.

"Goodnight, guys," he calls over his shoulder.

"I'm going to head to bed, too." Kobra clears his throat. "Detonation, you can wake me once you're done."

Alison nods in agreement at Kobra, who then wordlessly ascends the staircase.

"So," the young boy speaks up again. His voice is still slightly choked, but he's clearly trying to clear away the sadness in it. "I still don't really know who you guys are. Back in Battery City, there are only three Killjoys."

"Technically there still are only three Killjoys. We're with them, but we're not exactly in the group, if that makes sense." I reply, sitting down next to Jet Star, across from Alison. "My name is Fun Ghoul, and this is Detonation Diamond," I gesture to Alison as I introduce her.

"Oh, I see. Well, my name is Alex Gaskarth," he lifts his hand the the plastic cup again, but only to fiddle with it.

It's strange to hear somebody refer to themself as their birth name. The only birth names I ever really think of out here are Alison's and my own. Other than that, I don't know anybody by name. Even with the Killjoys, we've grown close over time and become friends with one another, but I don't know them as anything other than their code names. Out here, birth names don't really exist.

"Word of advice: don't use your real name in the desert," Alison interjects. "Once you get here, you pick a new name for yourself. Honestly I don't really know why it's that way, but it is."

"It helps in disassociating yourself with the things you do out here," Jet Star answers Alison's unasked question. The words sound so ominous coming from him. "When you're out here, you have to do a lot to survive- stuff that you don't do in the city. Having a crafted name helps to separate yourself from the things you have to do. It's just one of those things we do to make it easier to survive without going crazy"

"Like HOPE and the masks?" Alison asks, tilting her head to the side. I can tell that she's genuinely interested in learning about the desert culture that we're still relatively new to.

"Exactly like that," Jet Star smiles at her. His expression is familiar. He's looking at Alison the way that that I do. It warms me as I realize the implications of that observation: as crazy and fucked up as everything is around here, we really have found ourselves a little family.

"Wait, what is 'HOPE' and what does that have to do with masks?" Alex asks. His cluelessness reminds me of when I first came to the desert.

"Don't worry," Alison smiles cheekily at him, "you'll be well-versed in the desert eventually."