Title: Black and White and Red All Over
POV: 1st, Bert's
Warning: Language, sex of dubious consent, violence
Summary: 'The thing that struck me first was red. Red everywhere. It was streaked and spotted in blood on the floors and wall on the opposite side of the room, and so fucking bright that I faltered. But the blood was nothing next to this guy's hair. It was the most atomic fucking thing I think I had ever seen, and made me wonder instantly if I had really known what 'red' was until I saw it.'
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story
about something that would probably happen. I do not own the characters or the associations within.
A/N: Auuugh, this post is short too... But it's fun going in increments. Do you guys like longer or shorter posts to read? Let me know in your comments!
By the time I reached the holding rooms on the basement floor, I realized that I actually was horny as hell. Fooling around with Quinn and Jepha was now a thing of the past, and there is only so much that jacking off will do for a guy before it becomes a chore. A good, hot mouth was what I needed, and what mouth was hotter than wanted, desert celebrity mouth?
It had been a joke at first, but it had become a serious mission by the time I was facing the fuckhead who stood by the high-security door. He barely looked at me as I approached.
“Didn't think anyone was still trying,” muttered the guy. He was dressed in his all-white military gear, with a BLI smiley-printed bag over his head. He looked fucking bored, not to mention he had propped his rifle up against the wall instead of holding it, like a complete asshat.
“Thank you,” I chimed as I swiped a small white remote from Private Asshat's belt on my way to the door.
“Hey,” he said, but made no real effort to get it back. He barely got off the wall.
“I'll be out whenever.” I said, and hit a red button on the remote. The door to the holding cell clanged as some shit inside it unlocked. I tossed a wink over my shoulder at the guard as I entered the room, and he returned to his slouchy position on the wall.
To this point, I honestly hadn't known what to expect. The only real photos of the Killjoys I'd seen were from the 'wanted' posters, and a load of fucking good those did – oh, you want to find the Killjoys, Korse? Okay, swell, how about we see their pictures without the huge-ass text and big red 'x', and maybe we'll be able to spot them once we know what they look like.
Anyway, I hadn't been expecting much. So when I stepped in and let the door slide shut behind me, I had to stop.
The thing that struck me first was red. Red everywhere. It was streaked and spotted in blood on the floors and wall on the opposite side of the room, and so fucking bright that I faltered. But the blood was nothing next to this guy's hair. It was the most atomic fucking thing I think I had ever seen, and made me wonder instantly if I had really known what 'red' was until I saw it.
In that instant, the Killjoy turned from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing the wall. His skin was stained with blood, and purple and green marks peaked out from underneath his tattered black shirt and creeped around his bare arms and up his neck. Blood or hair-dye streaked his jaw, making his pale face stand out among all the colors. The only white on him was a metal cuff on each wrist, which reacted to commands from the remote in my hand. I was surprised by how clear his eyes looked, as they regarded me all of a sudden. He looked like he was right as fucking rain here – he seemed so unnaturally natural, so unconcerned in the way he just sat there, that I had to wonder, despite all the damage that had clearly been done to his body: had anyone even touched this guy?
As I watched, the Killjoy looked me up and down, jammed a finger inside his mouth, and prodded around his lower lip. He withdrew it a second later, and it was coated with blood. He licked his lips.
“Yeah?” he said, without precursor, and moved the bloodied finger to the wall in front of him. I finally looked past the guy to see what he had been doing on the wall: 'FUCK YOU' was written in big, smudgy red letters. Little drips of it glistened on the formerly spotless white.
I almost pissed myself, I was so excited.
“Where's Korse?” asked the Killjoy, “He out getting more of his drones blasted?” he asked, and licked his cracked lips again. I followed his tongue's progress with my eyes until it vanished back into his mouth.
“You fucking know it.” I said in reply. I grinned at his suddenly stunned expression – if I hadn't known what to expect, he had probably been the exact opposite. When Quinn had told me about him, I already knew what this guy had had to deal with: hours straight of fucking zombies coming in, wailing on him until Korse said 'stop,' and leaving without ever saying a word themselves. The Killjoy probably wasn't used to conversation.
“Well,” he started again, “If you wouldn't mind giving me a little more recoup time. See, half my blood's on the walls and floors right now.” he said, and gestured all around. My eyes went to a thick puddle in a corner where it looked as though he had recently chucked up a good amount of it.
I lifted the small remote in my hand and looked at it. So many fucking buttons... I had to hope that the one I hit wouldn't inject lethal poison into his body or something. I pressed one that had a sideways '8' on it and looked up at the guy to see what would happen. Right when I looked at him, he made a weird noise as his cuffs snapped instantly to each other behind his back.
“Sweet, I didn't kill you.” I said. He stared blankly at me as I crossed the room. I took in more details as I got nearer to him: the dark roots at his scalp, his sun-burned ears, and really fucking girly eyelashes.
When I passed a black line that marked the halfway point in the room, he turned suddenly where he sat so he was all the way facing me. Quinn said that the line was a marker for prisoners to stay on one side of the room. Apparently, the cuffs acted like a shock collar if someone wearing them tried to pass it, or something else fucked up like that. I couldn't quite remember.
I made a mental note to try it.
“You're not a Drac,” the Killjoy said, and his eyes went to the mask that hung out of my pocket. “You must be a 'Crow, huh?”
“Sweet gig, huh?” I grinned, “When I saw that I could go adventuring out in the barren desert and keep half of my brainpower, I was like, 'shit, sign me up for that'!”
The corners of his mouth twitched, but I could tell he didn't want me to see.
“So, what's your name, cupcake?” I asked, and pocketed the remote again. His eyes followed my hand until the remote had vanished, then went back to my face.
“They sent you in here without even telling you my name?” he said, and laughed. It was a much younger-sounding laugh than I'd have expected the leader of a murderous group of rebels to have. Very cute. “Chain of command is even worse around here than I imagined. No wonder you white suits can't even catch a wave-head when they blow through this town.” he said. There was an edge coming into his voice now – that was more like it.
“I'm Bert.” I said with a grin, and crouched down feet away from him. He stared at me like I was a fucking alien or something.
“... You know, you're not the first cocky-ass 'Crow to come in here trying to rattle my shit. And you sure as hell won't be the last, so, if you'll please just take out as many of my teeth as you like, and go, so I can continue my message to your first-in-command.” he said, and jerked his head backwards towards the big 'FUCK YOU.'
“I was only asking your name. If you don't tell me, I'll just go by what Quinn said, and start calling you Panty Party.”
“That's what he said?”
“I think that's what he said...”
He narrowed his eyes, and gave me a toothy little smile. Then he said, “It's Party Poison, dipshit,” and spat a mixture of blood and saliva on the floor. I stared. I couldn't say for sure, because the pills I took usually kept me blissfully unaware of most of my own feelings, but I think I might have been in love.
I grinned back at him, reached forward and grabbed either side of his head, and pulled his lips against mine.
For a moment, he froze up, but instead of the bitchfit I expected afterwards, Party Poison relaxed and waited until I broke away from him first to try and pull back.
“Nice to meet you.” I said.