~Frank/Fun Ghoul's POV~
I can't feel my tongue. I'ts dry and my feet are dragging behind me. The buzzards overhead help only when they fly over me, providing me with a very brief- but extremely welcome-patch of shade overhead.
Hours, I don't know, maybe even days, went on like this. The night was the worst. Always cold, always quiet. I hated it. I always liked sunshine and noise. This was torture. I could have turned back after day one, but that wasn't an option.
"I. Can't. Do. This!" I shout. Or I try to. What ends up actually happening is I fall facedown into the dirt and let out a pain cry. Let me be the first to say, My broken nose is not in good shape and neither are my ribs. I roll onto my back and close my eyes. I guess dehydration and starvation are good ways to go, right? At least, I've heard you can hallucinate pretty things before you finally die. Whoopdie-fuckin'-doo. Time to hallucinate and die.
The gently rumble of an engine was the first thing that made me think I was finally gonna lose it. That, or maybe-in that distant corner of my mind-I was gonna be saved. However, when the engine cuts off close by and car doors slam and I open my eyes, I'm not met with happy hallucinations or a rescuer. I'm met with four Dracs, each with their Scarecrow unit attatched and their rayguns trained on my torso. I give up. I can't go on and I sure as hell can't fight back.
"Oi! Pansy little Draculoids!" I glance over to see a man with ridiculously bright red hair shaking his ass at the group of... Draculoids? Is that what they're called out here? Oh well, can't really argue. Not to mention, this dude's got a pretty nice ass.
"It's Party Poison, motherfuckers!" He shouts, ducking quickly behind a huge-ass rock.
"Dammit, Party! Quit stealin' my lines!" A scrawny stick-boy comes out from behind the white Better Living van and shoots the frontmost Draculoid in the chest. He drops. I would have gasped, but I was being jerked upright while someone put a hand over my mouth. I'm too weak to fight.
"Well dammit, Kobra Kid, if you'd actually get out here in time I wouldn't have to steal 'em!" He downs two others. The scrawny stick-boy takes out the last one. All in all, that probably took about a minute, maybe less. When I'm dropped, it's painfully and onto my knees. The one with red hair- Party Poison? The hell kind of a name is that?- walks over and lifts my chin up with two fingers.
"Jet-Star, get him in the back of that van. Kobra, you're driving. I'll sit back there and doctor him up." I muster the last of my strength and stand up on my own.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about me like I wasn't here." I said, surprising myself on how strong my voice is.
"Ooh, you're a feisty one, kid." I glare at him. He smirks.
"You're a sassy one, asshole." His smirk fades.
"What are you gettin' at, Kid?" He asks, his voice steel. I shrug, and taste blood in my mouth. I'm probably gonna die.
"I'm just saying... What the hell kind of a name is Party Poison?" I cough and see the blood spray the dirt beneath me. Then it rushes up towards me.
I can't remember what happens after that.
