The gang all slept in one room, but the occasions when all six of them spent the night together under that same roof were rare. Sometimes, Roadkill would be out hunting for that night’s fuck, Poison would be selling himself for drugs, Jet would sit for hours on the roof, looking at the stars. Kobra would join him often, and the others would hear the faint reach of conversation, sometimes even laughter. Skull spent a lot of time outside, Roadkill slept most of his nights in her bed. He made a pact with the rest of the gang not to tell her that he and Poison had had sex in her bed, Skull hid the fact that she already knew really well. Her bed was pretty damn comfortable.
That night, Poison and Roadkill were outside, with no intention to even cross eyes with the others. Enveloped in the throbs of power play and all those beautiful painful delights, they had been switching power positions since the moment they got there. In that moment it was Roadkill’s turn to be helpless. They were on all fours, in the dirt, with Poison’s boot resting on their neck. He pushed them down, going for the classics of degradation, the well known hits such as:”Pathetic little slut.” and “Beg for it, mutt.”. Well, that last one was more specifically tailored on Roadkill. After a couple of blows to their body, Roadkill was reaching that completely blissful headspace that she oh so dearly missed, that deep bond he shared with the infamous redhead. A state of mind that allowed them to completely give herself over to Poison, while still being able to answer to a simple stoplight safeword system. Poison leaned over them, a satisfied grin on his face, while pulling at the collar and leash that Roadkill always brought with them:”Good pup, you know you want to be-” he stopped, and Roadkill immediately looked up, confused. It took a second to shake off the haze and, when the fog cleared over their mind, she noticed Poison expression. It was this kind of forzenness, but not quite fear. Roadkill still had his boot on his neck, by then it had slightly moved over to his cheek. They pushed it down and sat up right to look at whatever it was that shook their weird psychic best friend so much. Then they froze as well.
“Please, can you help me? I’m lost.”
It sounded just like Roadkill’s voice, but not quite. It rang in their brains, as the grey matter itself was the source of it. Roadkill felt Poison’s hand on their head, and wondered if maintaining a dominant role to make sure that he as a sub was alright was what made P snap out of the hazy state. Nevertheless, it was comforting. She didn’t have to face it alone. She stood up, slowly, taking a couple of shaky breaths. She did wish she hadn’t just taken two quite forceful blows to the ribs, after asking explicitly to be kicked like a stray just like some song she’d heard on the radio and taped. It was the best before facing a double of oneself, a glitching ghost that looked just like them but at the same time not quite. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“Wait. You’re the hooky spooky vision I got in the car the other day!” Poison exclaimed, while Roadkill pulled out their raygun, just in case.
“I’m- I’m tired. I think they killed my friends.”
The ghost didn’t move a step towards them, it stood still and with a terrifyingly good posture. Poison lost a bit of his eerie enthusiasm. The other ‘joy took a couple of steps forward, treading carefully like you thread when approaching a wild horse.
“Do you want to explain it to us so we can help you? Who is they?”
But the ghost said nothing, looking right through her and Poison. Roadkill thought that it looked as if she was experiencing connection issues, but on her existence. However, that was a silly thought: ghosts didn’t work on data, didn’t they? Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they had seen out in that circus they called the Zones.
In the meanwhile, and a bit stupidly, they had been steady steps towards the ghost, approaching it slowly. Roadkill reached, a bit insecure.
Poison’s breath caught in his throat:”You are not.”.
Roadkill held a hand up to the ghost of himself, who had an open gash on its forehead, she felt the stickiness of the blood on her fingers. Alright, by then she had started to get pretty fucking scared, but she was decided not to show it. That ghost seemed as terrified as them two were. The presence looked at the hand, then leaned in ever so slightly, and closed its empty eyes. And started crying, just like Poison had, in the car.
“They’re just scared. I think.” his voice shook as he spoke. “We got you, ghosties. We can help you.”.
Then, just like Fake Poison did when Roadkill showed them kindness in the car, the presence started glitching. The moment it realized it, the physical killjoy felt the matter she was holding disappear, and the ghost started screaming. It screeched, loud, with an electrical ringing. They tried to push through it and reach the ghost, but fell right through it. Roadkill hit the floor, Poison stumbled, cursing and jumping to not step on his head.
“Shit.” Poison said, when his unstoppable tumbling movement had finally found a halt. He rested his hands on his knees, as if he had just ran a marathon.
“Fuck.” he added, breathlessly, after a bit. What else was there to say?
Roadkill found no reason to get up, they stayed in the dirt, their body finally relaxing. The two killjoys looked at each other, confused beyond reason. Then they heard another screeching, metallic sound. It came from the other side of the Hideout.
“Ghoul and Skull! Fuck!”.
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