The Stars Watch Over Us All

We Are Nothing Without Mistakes - Kobra Kid & Mr Sandman

Kobra and Sandman learn a little more about each other

For what it's worth, Kobra was trying. But trying doesn't mean that you succeed. Trying means failing again and again until hopefully something goes right. Trying is a never ending process of failing.

They tried, but it seemed like they failed every time. Every single time.

Trying to calm Party down? Fail.

Trying to work up the courage to finally ask your crush out? Fail.

Trying to be there when people needed you? Fail.

Kobra had grown up in Battery City with Party. There, he was taught to keep his head down and his emotions silenced. Nothing but pure mind-numbing emptiness. And that stuck with him for what felt like an eternity. The eternity hasn't stopped.

The desert brought freedom. It let Kobra be themself, it let them live how they wanted. But the main obstacle was them.

Kobra was still handicapped by some of BL/ind's programming. Don't raise his voice, don't draw attention to himself. If he was invisible, everyone was happy. Party didn't seem to have the same handicaps as Kobra. They were fine being the loudest fucker in the desert. They lived for attention. Kobra didn't.

It was ironic really. The two siblings who grew up together, the two siblings who seemed like perfect replicas of each other. The two siblings that changed when they ran away. One flaunted their freedom, the other let the desert take its course.

Kobra had always been the better listener. Party was the sibling that had to deal with rehabilitation. One fit the mold, the other had to be forced.

Out in the desert, it was a different story. Kobra was too quiet, too obedient, too... BL/ind. Party was able to shake off the rehabilitation after enough time. Kobra was the one that still had BL/ind orders ingrained in them, and they didn't have to go through the torture that was rehabilitation.

In the desert, Party was the one that fit. Like they were born for the desert. In the desert, Party was confident. In the desert, Party was the leader. They were a good leader too. In the desert, Party had a good facade.

Kobra knew that Party was hurting inside. Call it brother's intuition, call it the ability to read his sibling from years of forced exposure. Either way, something was wrong with them. Yet it wasn't only Party. Ghoul grew increasingly worried, Jet was breaking inside, and The Girl– The Girl was trying to piece them all back together again.

Not that Kobra didn't want to help them, he just didn't know how. He wasn't a feely person; an open emotions, wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve kind of person. He preferred to figure things out on his own, which was expected and enforced in Battery City.

But Battery City was nothing more than a distant memory. A glimpse of a different life, a life that died in the zones. But how much of Kobra Kid was left in the city? How much did they have to sacrifice?

That's what made the desert hard for them. Kobra never learned how to share emotions. They had always learned to keep them locked away for no one to see.

Watching as Jet guided The Girl outside and as Ghoul dragged Party away, Kobra never felt more alone. Melancholy felt like an accurate term for his emotions, but it didn't fit quite right. Nothing ever did.

Rolling his motorcycle out, Kobra glanced over his shoulder at the Trans Am. Party stared right back, pointedly ignoring Ghoul. Kobra risked a glance at the roof, seeing Jet and The Girl sitting on the edge, swinging their feet.