If You're The Party, I'll Be Your Poison

The next morning Fun Ghoul woke me up and shoved me into the shower. He insisted I had to be clean so he could look at the cuts and scrapes all over me to see if I needed stitches. He tossed a towel at me and closed the door leaving me alone in the insanely decorated bathroom. The walls were covered in graffiti. The mirror was the only thing that didn’t have some kind of artwork on it. Pulling it open I found it fully stocked with all kinds of hair dye, different types of painkillers and razor blades. Taking a razor for myself I turned the water on and stepped in.

The hot water felt wonderful against my skin. I’d never taken the time to really enjoy myself in the shower. Usually it was timed and I could never just relax. So I stood in the spray and let the droplets pelt me. I let my muscles relax and enjoyed the feel of the heat. It felt like all the scum of the City was rinsing me free. All the medications and torturous work hours washing away and in return I could feel again. It was just me in my head. The hazed buzzing was just a small noise instead of a giant cloud over my judgment. The decisions I made were my own.

I smiled and finished my shower, wrapping the towel around me tightly and cracking the door open. All four Killjoys were lounging in the living room. Kobra looked up and pushed his sunglasses down his nose, his eyebrows high.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Um… clothes?”

He snapped his fingers and Jet Star pointed to a table beside the door where a stack of clothes was folded. I inched as far out of the bathroom as I could without flashing anyone and grabbed them before slipping back into the bathroom. There was a pair of briefs that were only a little too baggy and a pair of black jeans. They didn’t provide a bra so I used the one I had on and pulled on a white tee shirt with the black spider on it. To put over it they provided a blue vest similar to Fun Ghoul’s and a pair of worn socks. I already had a BLI issued belt so I wove it around my hips and looked into the mirror. My hair dripped down my back so I dug around the cabinet beneath the sink and found a comb before pulling the dark wavy mass into a damp ponytail at the back of my head.

“Much better,” Kobra Kid nodded when I stepped out of the bathroom. “Your boots are by the door.” He pointed across the room to a pair of free-swinging doors and my black BLI issued boots were resting on the floor. They’d taken the time to scratch off the BLI logo and replaced it with the scythe symbol on my ray gun.

“Thanks,” was all I managed to say before Fun Ghoul popped up off the couch and shoved me down into an armchair. He pulled a bag full of medical supplies toward us and sat on the coffee table.

“The scrapes on your face are just that, nothing serious,” he grabbed my face and turned my head from side to side. Then he took each arm and glanced it over. “This needs a few butterflies but that’s it.” He taped up a long gash down my left arm that had slowly begun scabbing in a jagged line. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”

After the relaxing shower nothing really hurt too bad. My cuts still stung and my head pounded but everything else was just a steady ache. I put pressure on each leg and rotated my ankles to make sure everything was in place.

“Just my right ankle. I think I sprained it,” I lifted my foot to show him and he nodded, pulling out a role of ace bandage and pulling my sock off. His hands were gentle and precise as he wrapped my foot in athletic tape and the bandage and the butterflies in my stomach started up when his fingertips brushed my skin.

“There, don’t walk on it too much for a couple days. You should be fine though.” He smiled up at me.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Fun Ghoul gathered his supplies and disappeared into his room and the other men went back to whatever they’d been doing so I hobbled over to my boots and put them on. Since everyone else was occupied I glanced around the cluttered living room. Party Poison looked up from the gun he was cleaning and shoved his hair away from his eyes.

“What are you looking for?”

“My pack.”

He nodded and stood beckoning me to his bedroom. I dutifully followed him and he pulled my pack out of his closet. He placed it on the bed and I sat down beside it and unzipped the top. I could feel his eyes on me as I pulled the top open and yanked out my sleeping bag.

“Do you mind if I stick around?” he asked.

“No, not at all.”

I heard him sit but I was too busy digging through the contents of the pack. There were medical supplies and a few spare pairs of underwear. I tossed aside the undergarments and dove back in. At first I just pulled out more supplies, some Power Pup and a few cans of beans before my fingers brushed against something leather. A zipper caught under my fingernail so I grabbed it and yanked it out. It was a jacket, a brand new, unworn jacket. Party Poison leaned across the bed when I held it up and took hold of each sleeve. It was a dark turquoise, the scythe symbol on the shoulder of each sleeve. The collar was black fabric as well as the tip of each sleeve and the hem at the bottom. The spider that the Killjoys had everywhere was white against the leather and rested on the left breast. On each side there was a pocket with silver snaps and on the back was a giant grim reaper, scythe and all, outlined in white. Around the reaper was a name, my name, in fancy script.

“Well I guess we know what Rev stands for now,” Poison muttered as I stared at it.

“I guess.” I whispered, running my fingers over the careful work of the reaper.

Party Poison shrugged and pulled the pack closer to him. He peered into it before dumping it upside down. A few pairs of shorts and feminine products fell from an inside pocket and Poison lifted the box of BLI issued tampons to study them.

“They still make this stuff?” he turned the box in his hands.

I knew my face had turned bright red because he laughed when I snatched the box back and stuffed it in the pack. He shuffled through the pile of stuff on the bed and I returned my attention back to my jacket. The inside was a smooth silky fabric with concealed pockets, a ray gun holster tucked neatly in one of the sleeves. I unzipped each pocket and stuck my finger in only to find a Vend-a-Hack. I tossed that at Poison but he was more interested in a folded stack of papers.

“Rev, I think this is for you,” he whispered and looked up at me.

Unable to hide my curiosity I grabbed it from him. It was a letter in my brother’s handwriting.

“I’ll leave you alone,” Poison muttered and stood up. “If you need me I’ll be in the other room.”

Unable to help the tears welling in my eyes I just nodded and waited for him to close the door. Once he was gone I unfolded the letter and smoothed it out. The ink was fresh and his handwriting was messy but I knew it was Daniel’s writing. He had the sloppiest hand in the entire family but this letter was deliberately written so I could read it. He’d taken a lot of time to write it out.

Korra,

If you’re reading this then I’m no longer alive. You’re probably wondering why all these horrible things have happened in such a short amount of time. I wish I could have told you before my death, but it was too risky. So I write this letter to you, hoping you remember who you are and why you are where you are.

I know you’ve been remembering bits and pieces of our life before the war. We were happy then and you were such a great girl. You loved life and you had a great personality and Better Living Industries took that away. Over the past few months, I have been weaning you off your medications by replacing half of your dosage with placebo. Please understand, I didn’t do this to hurt you. You will be sick for a few weeks once your dosage completely stops but it’s so worth it, Korra. The freedom you feel when your mind is liberated is more than exhilarating. I’m sure you’re already beginning to feel these freeing affects already. Embrace them. Follow your instincts and live like you’ve never lived before.

Although I can’t explain everything in this letter, eventually you’ll understand why this had to happen. My death had to happen. It’s now up to you to avenge our family. The Reapers. You need to do everything you can and free as many people from this feelingless buzz as you can.

You probably wonder who or what the Reaper is. It’s our blood, our legacy, and us. Our family used to be dangerous and powerful against the BLI but a careless mistake caused the entire movement to crumble. They encouraged Killjoy activity and various groups have tried to make an impact like our family had. There are a select few who would embrace you after you’re free of your medications and I implore you to find them. You’ve seen their posters through the city and heard the stories of their destruction. They are known as the Fabulous Killjoys and they are the ones who will help you. At first, they may not trust you but I promise you, once you remember who you are, they’ll accept you and help you.

I just beg you, Korra. Remember who you used to be and remember me. Avenge me. Avenge your family.

I love you baby sister.

Daniel

The papers included with the letter were printouts of each Fabulous Killjoy’s extermination poster. Party Poison’s was on top with a note Daniel had scrawled in the corner of the crinkled paper. It read: This is Party Poison, he knew our father before the war. These men will help you remember yourself. Trust them and they will come to trust you. When I couldn’t find more notes on the other Extermination flyers I folded up the letter and tucked it in the pocket of my pants. I shoved the contents of the pack back into it and just sat there.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember more than what I already knew. The medications where taking forever to leave my system and the block they had on my memories was slow to break. I knew I had to avenge my brother, that was a given. Korse had him killed and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. All I had now was a name and a hope that these Fabulous Killjoys would trust me enough to let me help them fight the good fight. But gaining trust took forever and I had no idea how much time I actually had.

After a while Poison’s door creaked open and he stuck his head in. His brilliant red hair was messy and windswept and he had goggles pushed up, tangling it around the straps. His face was shiny with sweat and his skin darkened from being in the sun, but he looked happy. His hazel eyes were warm, greener than I’d seen them the night before and his chapped lips pulled up into a smile.

“You’re still in here?” he said and stepped fully into the room. His jacket was unzipped but he was still armed and covered in dirt. He yanked off his gloves and tossed them onto the dresser across the room before sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’ve been crying.”

I touched my face and pulled my hand back to find my fingers damp. “I guess I have.”

He nodded and I stared at my lap. “How are you feeling? Any symptoms yet?”

“No, but it’ll start soon. It’s almost time for my second dosage and I can feel my body changing because I haven’t taken either. It’s strange.”

He nodded again, “You should sleep in Ghoul’s room tonight, then. Just so he’ll be there when it starts.”

“I’d rather sleep up here.”

The comment slipped out before I could stop it and I pressed my hands over my mouth. Poison just laughed at me.

“I meant, I feel safer up here. I think.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

We sat in a moment of silence and I remembered Daniel’s note on his flyer. Taking a chance, I pulled the little bundle of papers out and unfolded them. “Poison. I don’t know if you trust me yet, or if I even trust you but my brother write this on your flyer.”

He eyed it warily before taking it from me and reading the short note. The butterflies in my stomach multiplied as he stared at the black and white version of his face. The anticipation as he eyed it almost made me insane but I bit my tongue and patiently waited.

“Who are you?” he finally spoke up and looked straight into my eyes.

When I didn’t respond he handed the flyer back to me and leaned closer across the bed. He placed a hand on each side of my face and stared at me. The pressure from his palms made the bruises on my cheeks and nose ache but he didn’t let me go, he just kept staring into my eyes.

“The problem is, I don’t really know myself,” I whispered and he sighed.

“I know. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me who you are. What’s your name?”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t tell you that. It’s not safe.”

“I understand you’re afraid, but if your brother trusts us and tells you to trust us, then I think that means we should trust each other.”

I shook my head again. “I don’t even know you.”

He finally let my face go and sat back with a crooked smirk, “Then get to know me. Get to know us.”

“I’ll try.”