Black Tar Palms

Every horizon held a mirage. Every dune hid bones. Every day brought sunburn. Every night sky was lit up by flares.

The Zones were harsh, but like the Juvie Halls in the City, like urban foxes, like cockroaches, the Killjoys found a way. The desert wasn't meant for life, but out here no one could deny that they felt more alive than anywhere else.

Every horizon held unknown adventures. Every dune hid treasures. Every day brought colour. Every night held infinite stars.

Months had passed since the fateful storm that had blown the two mysterious brothers across the threshold of the diner and into Jet and Ghoul's lives, and it was like the four of them had never known any other way of life. Ghoul had never been as close to another person as he was to Party, even if Party was made of silicone and circuit boards. The two of them had a romantic relationship, yes, but also an incredible friendship; while Jet was a great companion and mentor, Party was on the exact same wavelength as Ghoul, and they were like two halves of the same person. Party was just as close to Jet too, the redhead's presence softening Jet's rough edges and changing him for the better. He was still just as sharp-minded and protective as he always had been, now just with a more understanding and forgiving side when it came to new killjoys and strangers in need, as well as the softest spot in the world for Party.

Jet and Ghoul also had a close kinship with Kobra, finding that past the cold, serious exterior was a fascinating, unique person, just as unique as his brother was. Kobra's experience working at the pill dispensary in Battery City had given him a familiarity with medications, which had been invaluable when a lone Killjoy had traded a meal and a ride to Zone One for a pillowcase of assorted drugs from the City and from the Zones.

His affinity with mathematics meshed well with Jet's mechanical skills too, and the two of them were able to fix almost anything in half the time it usually took Jet by himself.

One on one, everyone had very different relationships with each other, but together they were a family, and unstoppable. They had the perfect combination of strengths, balancing out one another's weaknesses and knowing each of their roles in any situation.

They hadn't had any claps yet - no serious ones, at least - but they were confident that when the time came, they'd be victorious.

Outside Dr. D's radio station, the sun was high, but not as high as it had been. Still, the air was hot, the sand was hot, and Ghoul was hot. It was too warm for jackets, and even Jet had stripped down to a tank top for the little while they were spending outside. Party was lucky in that he didn't need to worry about sunburn, but for the others, day time was inside-time. Thankfully it was past high-noon now, past the most scorching part of the day, so it was time for practice.

Since Ghoul and Jet had learnt that Party and Kobra had never even held a gun, they'd taken it upon themselves to teach them how to shoot - or in Kobra's case, simply how to defend himself.

While Party was completely okay with learning to shoot, and was actually quite enthusiastic about it, Kobra refused. He stood by what he'd said to Ghoul all those months ago about never wanting to fire a gun, which had led them to where they were now.

Once a week they did target practice at Dr. D's shack, where Jet, Ghoul, and Party could turn the outside wall of the building into their own little shooting range, with bottles and cans lined up alongside a couple of old mannequins (that Dr. D had needed to assure Party were only mannequins, and were not - and never had been - droids), and Kobra could brush up on his self defense. Show Pony was almost always around, too, and always willing to impart a little of their martial arts knowledge and skill onto Kobra.