taxonomites | 01 | holo | location: sanctuary

Entry tags:

01 | holo | location: sanctuary | ARRIVAL

Death felt hot, and dark, and loud and silent all at the same time. And it kind of tickled.

It wasn’t over like all the storybooks said it would be. There was no warm wash of air, or pretty clouds or glowing white light and the smiling face of her dead grandfather. It wasn’t even close to falling asleep. It was too bright for that. It was too much pain, too much pain to go gently into that good night. Electricity snaked through the sky, jagged scars ripped through the air and lit her up like a goddamn Christmas tree. So many metaphors, so little time. It was all of these things and more, and Gwen Raiden didn’t have the time to reflect. She didn’t even have time to be dead, apparently.

All of that—betraying Angel and Connor and Nina and Spike (well...okay, she didn't really care about Spike) and the rest, fighting the dragon Cordelia (which just might have been more forthcoming than the real Cordelia), her decision to die the way she always imagined it—all that was snuffed out with her life and now it rushed back. Here she was, in all her glory, surrounded by metal walls and a strange ceiling. She surveyed the close space, breathing hard from that whole noble sacrifice thing which tended to take a lot out of a girl. "Okay,” she said, and the word escaped her wrapped in a big, exhaled breath. “Not gonna lie. I thought heaven would be a little more…Feng Shui.”

And as death faded away like a dream, her body felt real and solid again. There was the hard steel floor underneath her boots, the silken feel of her gloves on her fingers, and finally, the dull pain in every muscle of her body that had been electrified just moments ago. Gritting her teeth and shoving it down and away, where she did not have to dwell on it, she noticed the pedestal in front of her holding a fancy little gadget on it. It looked like something once upon a time she would have been paid billions to steal. She looked at it now with uninterest and unease. “Or…not heaven. Mars, huh? Interesting choice.”

There was no door, no way out and no cool breeze she’d felt just moments ago on the rooftop...

Connor, she thought, struck suddenly with a pang of sadness and guilt that gutted her.

“Okay, I get it!” Her call echoed out to empty walls. This was Wolfram and Hart's doing. And if she had to claw her way out of here, literally striking down every cheap suit in this place to do it, she would. “And not to be dramatic, but I had a thing I was doing with...the dying. Don’t you people have better things to do than stick me in a box? Filing briefs, or something? Not a big, brooding vampire here. Just a normal, law-abiding citizen."

A fib, and not even a subtle one, but she was getting testy. She scratched at her gloved wrist, absentmindedly, and felt something like a bracelet under the fabric. “Sorry I killed your dragons?”

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Party all but rolled his eyes, but it wasn't because he was fed up with the girl he'd now nicknamed Tumbleweed. It was more because he had had the exact same process, the same thoughts, and it was as ridiculous coming out of her mouth as it did his.

If he was capable of smiling he would have at least smirked, but he settled with snorting, shaking his head.

"Look alive. It sounds like a bunch of guano but it's true. Mostly. Apparently it's hamsters. Just wait for me, alright?"

He pauses, tilting his head. "And it's Poison. Party Poison."

Look alive, huh? To Gwen that meant keeping her gloves off and her hands ready. "Never fried a hamster before," she said, making her way threw the sanctuary, here and then casting a curious look at the futuristic decor. "Bunnies, maybe. The neighbor's dog. I'm just not a pet person."

A little dark humor never hurt anyone.

Gwen rolled her shoulders in a shrug. His name was a little different, sure. And the James Bonding way he clarified it didn't make it any less weird. But who was she to judge on weird? Poster girl, right here. But let's get one thing straight. Her name sure as hell wasn't Tumbleweed, though she'd been called worse things. "I'm Gwen Raiden. You've got a cool little name there, Party Poison. I think we'll get along just fine."

Party had quit the visual--partially because he felt odd, with everyone being able to watch him, but mostly because it was just yet another way these aliens could track him. Sure, this please was a perfect utopia, but so was Battery City while he was on the mandatory medication. It was hell when he stopped taking them.

Nonetheless, it didn't take him very long to drive up to where he'd first been. The car was more than a little out of place--the beat up once white Trans-AM had spray paint all over it, bumper stickers advertising some radio frequency, along with the tag 'look alive sunshine.' It was a clunker but well-looked after, a painted (and re painted, and re-repainted) spider on the hood.

Party was there, craving cigarettes, mask on and leaning out the window. He hated the fact that if he concentrated he could smell the other killjoys--Fun Goul's cancer sticks, Jet Star's medical supplies.. The list went on.

He just hoped this Gwen girl--and for some reason Party couldn't stop referring to her as Tumbleweed in his head--wasn't a double agent. It was possible.

Had she not been so anxious to get rid of the 'trapped like a rat' feeling, Gwen would have had half the mind to explore the seemingly endlessly large, stainless steel building. A place this intricate had to have some kind of toy surprise buried underneath all this wrapping paper. But not now. Now was time to get out. To see for herself.

Not that she didn't believe this Party Poison. Dropped bombs like aliens are pretty big bombs. She's seen enough to know that pretty much anything goes in this freak show of a world. She's living proof. But even so, a part of her needed to see it to believe it.

Stepping outside was like the breath of fresh air that...usually came with breathing in fresh air. It felt free, and the wind on her skin made her feel more alive than she had been since materializing in that metallic room. Her eyes drank in the surroundings--the sky, the ground, the road, the--

Oh. Ridiculous getaway car? Check. She had a feeling riding shotgun in this thing would just amp up the freak show factor. She wasn't exactly one for flying under the radar.

"Not exactly what I was expecting," she said, strolling up to the car. Her eyes lingered on the painted spider. "What side do you play for, again?"

She was just as snarky in person. Party ducked his head back in and opened the door, adjusting his mask slightly. He glanced over at Tumbleweed--no, Gwen--and offered a slight grimace that served as a smile.

"Team Killjoy," he said, shrugging. "I'm the only member so far. Everyone here's so fucking complacent about this shit. No one's doing anything to try to escape. It's--it's a whole lotta rosie, straight up negative zappers. Set phasers to dusted."

He wrinkled his nose in distaste of his apparently apt analogy, glancing over at the girl. "I'm not saying I haven't ruled out the possibility that you're some double, infiltrator or nothin' but logically it makes the most sense to tell the people that come in after me what I'm planning to do. I've got the big picture, but the little details are still coming to me."

Jesus. He looks surprised with himself, shifting gears and peeling out. Driving like a lunatic. He's learned to drive in the zones, after all, and there aren't exactly traffic laws. This was the most he's ever really said to anyone that isn't a Killjoy.

She wavered, and if Party Poison looks really closely, he'll see her hesitation. And it's not just the creepy spider car or the mask.

"I hate to break it to you, sugar bear, but I played all this deja vu before. Didn't work out like a fairy tale, either."

It wasn't so long ago that an old friend found her to propose a very similar proposition: This world sucks and we all want out. Join my team, Gwen, and your life will be better for it. Hers wasn't, and now she didn't even know if it changed anything.

She's hesitant, but she's not stupid. She's out of the loop and like dealing with any job, gleaning information is the first step. So she gets in the car and keeps her cards to herself.

"Would it help if I pinky swear?" she asks, coyly. "What's your big picture plan, anyhow?"

Party notices the hesitation and it assures him--not because he likes to intimidate, but because it's healthy to be wary--and so he says nothing as the girl talks, eventually taking off the mask and tossing it in the back seat. He can still smell Fun Ghoul's goddamn cancer sticks in the back, and the faint smell of the bleach Jet Star had spilled during an emergency patch-up of Kobra Kid.

"Please tell me you have a cigarette in those nifty leather pants of yours," He asks first and foremost. He turns sharply to the left, partially because he never really got a licence and partially because if he keeps turning, it's easier to lose people that are following him. If they're following them. Party takes no chances.

The 'sugar bear' nickname isn't lost on him, either, but an odd expression flickers across his features. News A Go Go used to call Agent Cherri Cola that, and now the two were missing. Gone. Probably ghosted out in the zones.

"Big picture plan is we bust outta this hell hole. I've done it before in my world--something similar to this--so it should be a piece of cake." He hopes. "Once I get proper intel and enough people, that is."

Gwen pat her leather lap and held up a gloved hand. "Sorry, honey. Must be in my other pair."

The swerve catches her off guard and she brings her gaze to the window, watching the streets and houses and buildings just roll on by. It was just like any other city. Gwen was a girl who had been all over the world. Funny thing about the thieving biz, it brought about clients from all over. It wasn't just Americans who wanted to steal.

And still, everything felt off.

She drags her eyes away from outside and back to the driver, her strange little greeting card. He looks unsettled to her, for a moment, and then it's gone. On another day, she would have lingered on it, dissecting and putting together all those little body language movements people don't realize tell such a big story. But, it's been a long day.

"Right, well, here's the thing. Getting out of hell's not as easy as it looks." She holds up a gloved hand and gives a soft, cynical laugh. She's done it before too, almost. Busting out of a hell hole. Hurt some people doing it, too. Wouldn't be so bad, except, now she doesn't even know if it was worth it. "Even with superpowers. You're gonna need some extra accessories if you want out of this Twilight Zone."

Party glances over at Gwen, concentrating more on his next words. He's not charismatic and he's not much of a talker, but he has to try to get Gwen on his side. Gwen seems like a smart gal but Party doesn't take any chances and--

He literally slams on the breaks, the car screeching to a halt and almost careening into the one in front of him. He cranes his neck to back up, not saying a word, mouth half open as he concentrates on the simple task.

"Sonnova Dirty Drac," he mumbles, and after pulling in to an alleyway barely big enough to fit his car he bows his head in thought for a few seconds, red hair in his face.

"You're a superhero." Because Party doesn't at all feel tiny and insignificant next to someone with alleged super powers. He smiles, but it's not genuine, it's more the grin of a man who just can't fucking believe what was happening.

"Of course. Of course there are people with superpowers here. There are hamster aliens and creppy girls in white." He wrinkled his nose. "Never thought I'd say this, but I miss the Zones and Battery City." He shifts his weight to lean his elbow on the wheel, raising an eyebrow.

"So what can you do? Are you like Superman, or The Flash?"

Gwen's body was flung forward as the car screamed. When they stopped and her head bumped against the back, Gwen looked at him, mouth agape and caught up in the moment, so excuse her--

"Hey, jackass! Are you trying to kill me or what?"

--lack of tact. He pulls into an alley and she instinctively rips off one glove and holds her hand up, ready for attack. But none came and he proceeded to have what Gwen interpreted to be a full on breakdown.

"I said I had superpowers," Gwen clarified, a bit of an edge in her tone. "Not a superhero. I'm a..."

Her voice drifted off, and she just rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"Sorry, tumbleweed. Used to the rest of the Killjoys." Party feels bad that he nearly sent her flying, but that's what you get when you drive in a car with him. He should have warned her to wear a seat belt or something, but Party never did so what was the point?

Still, he licks his lips and pushes his hair out of his face, fingers tapping the edge of the wheel. Not so much a nervous habit as a fidgety one.

"We don't have any of that. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws might count, but the only good drac is a dead one. If that's even possible--but... Whatever you can do.."

He sighed. "I'm just a normal, run-of-the-mill human," he decided to leave out the 'incredibly irradiated and sick' part. "But if you help me bust out of here it'll be a lot easier. It'll be shiny, tumbleweed. Just shiny. What can you do?"

She eyed him a little about the nickname. Not that she was offended; it was strange. It suited her, whether or not she realized it.

She exhaled a breath herself. It seemed especially loud in the silence of the car. "Hey, nothing wrong with being a normal, run-of-the-mill human, sugar." Hell, she'd risked her life for something that made her as close to normal, run-of-the-mill human as she could get. LISA. The memory sprung on her suddenly and she sat up a little straighter in the seat. It hadn't worked in Hell LA. But everyone was making very clear that this wasn't Kansas anymore.

Gwen held out her hand. "Got a watch? Something metal?"

"Umm..." Party noticed the way her back straightened as something flew across her mind. Something bad. A memory, perhaps. Everyone had their demons, some bigger than others, but this girl had some big ones.

Maybe that was why Party got along with her. Though 'getting along' in his case was 'not pulling his laser gun on her.' Yet.

He glanced around before finding an old can of Power Pup on the floor of the car. It was dog food, the black and white BLI\ind. label the same as the white air freshener handing by his dash. It was empty and still had the fork rattling around it. Power pup--dog food in general was the staple of Killjoys, after all. It was the only thing they knew wasn't laced.

"Something like this?"

Gwen took it, not because she loved showing off, which she did, and not because she felt like she had to explain the gloves, but because she had a feeling with all this mask stuff, the car, the weird way of talking, all of it meant he really wouldn't care all that much. Knowing he wasn't going to run screaming, hands in the air, from the car was a bit more of a motivator.

She gave him an appraising smile. No, he didn't look like the Rolex type. They always got so uppity. Really, who decides to show up packing some serious sterling silver to meet the thief with the metal-melting hands? They practically begged for it.

"It's always more fun when it's something fancy, but I guess it'll do." The glove was already in her lap, so all she had to do was pick up what he put down. Little blue sparks flew from her finger tips, making that little zap sound she'd gotten to know as steady as her own heartbeat. She closed her hand around the can, but she didn't need to squeeze for the magic to happen. In one instant the can was a mangled, smoking distortion of itself, burnt to a crisp and transformed into some even more cheap looking whatever it was.

She tossed it onto the floor of the car. "It's all about the subatomic particles, sugar bear." She shrugged, and sighed a little sigh. This is a speech--and action--she's performed countless times. Back in Los Angeles, she really didn't have to explain stuff anymore. She was just part of the pack, there. "The science fair version of it is way less exciting, believe me. What do you think?"

"Oh."

And it was all Party could really say, all he had to. There was just... what did you even say to something like that?

"I'm glad you didn't touch my zapper." He tapped the yellow ray gun in its holster, and leaned forward, as if he was going to touch it.

"...wow. That's--wish you were in my verse. Everythings electric." When he looked up, he had a hint of a smile on his face. Trying not to grin like the little kid he wanted to.

"Yeah."

Gwen put her glove back on. Show's over. And by the looks of it, her audience seemed to enjoy it a little bit. "The world of modern technology," she says with an almost smile of her own. "It's everywhere. A world full of business opportunities for a girl like me."

Not that using her powers to help people back in Los Angeles wasn't fulfilled. It...was, kind of. Maybe didn't give her the hero complex Angel had, but it made her a part of something. Being a thief? That made her part of something too. When looked back on those days, pre-Hell L.A, pre-LISA, she looked back on them fondly. They were fun.

"Are you about to go all comic book nerd on me, Party Poison? Because, hate to tell you, you look like something out of one of those things yourself."

That did it. Party actually laughed. Well--it was as much of a laugh and a smile as he could, what with the fact that he never did. But what Gwen had said was more of a compliment then she could even imagine.

"Before 2012, I wanted to be one. A comic book artist, I mean. Then the helium wars broke out, and..." He shrugged. Why was he even divulging past secrets? Not that it mattered, but at this rate he might as well tell Gwen his real name. Party snorted, shaking his head.

Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.

"The thing is? Your powers, your zapping thing can do twice as much damage as this. You're shiny, Tumbleweed. Twice as shiny as gods revolver, even." he patted his holster. He was glad he didn't touch Gwen--the way she was taking her gloves on and off, it was relatively safe to assume (at least in Party's mind) she was similar to Rogue. He'd rather not get electrocuted in his first week or two in Taxon.

"And I want to bust outta here first chance I get. If I'm gonna get ghosted or dusted or god knows what, it's gonna be on my own terms. And something tells me you can at least appreciate that. So are you gonna join the Killjoy cause?"

She was taken aback, but she too smiled. The reason she didn't laugh?

2012. It wasn't 2012. And she'd been to almost every part of the world and never heard of anything like the helium wars. She imagined a bunch of hot air balloons with bright angry faces painted on them, popping each other in the sky. That might've made her laugh, if not for the reality that it she was imprisoned with people who weren't even from her dimension. Of course, it was possible. She'd stolen countless magical artifacts for people wanting to scan the pan-dimensional globe. But her she was, maybe the sole representative of her world.

His praise of her was strange to hear. She'd never heard anyone extol her little 'problem.' It was always something people didn't understand, or feared, or felt bad for her over. Gunn hadn't lured Gwen to his side because he thought she should appreciate her powers. He knew she wanted to be rid of them and would help her do it. No one ever showed enthusiasm over them.

"You put on a good sell, Party." He was rebellious, walking in his own shoes and yeah, that was something Gwen Raiden could appreciate. "Only have one question."

A pause. How in the world do you plan to bust out of here? Do you realize we have a 1 and 10 shot? Do you think you'll be able to recruit anyone other than a electro freak with a rebel complex and a real desire to get home and make sure her friends aren't dead? Why is your hair that color?

"What the hell is a killjoy?"

"Oh." Party looked slight embarrassed, shrugging elaborately and finally starting the car again. "Yeah, uh.. About that. After you're out in the Zones where I'm from, you kind of pick up the lingo. I'm a Killjoy. Not that we're an armed force or anything," though they were armed. As Party explained, he pulled out of the alley and began driving again, back tracking.

"Killjoys are basically exiles. Outlaws, stuff like that. We made out choice, and when it was between 'Stick with Better Living Industries in a monochromatic world with pills that make you a dumbed down piece of guano to better comply with the company' or 'bust out of Battery City, live in irradiated zones in the desert and constantly watch your back for Dracs and other Killjoys trying to steal your stuff,' we all took the latter. It's freedom."

His eyes narrowed.

"This? This is a zoo. It isn't freedom."

Gwen listened carefully as he rolled through the explanation. It didn't all make perfect sense to her, but then again, none of this then. And would her new friend be able to make any sense of what she'd left behind in LA? Not likely. And while leaving Alien City to go back to what seemed like a futuristic John Wayne movie didn't exactly appeal to her, what she was anxious to go back to was not much better.

"So, what, you don't think I should give this place a chance?" Gwen asked, her smile playful. She took another gander out the passenger window. Some of the architecture of the buildings reminded her of the exotic designs of foreign places, and some of it looked like nothing she'd ever seen. "Whoever built this hamster cage had good taste."

Party's brow furrowed slightly--he didn't quite understand the other's words until he glanced over and realized that Gwen was giving the same smirk as Fun Ghoul always did when he was sarcastic. Come to think of it.. If Fun Ghoul were here, he'd probably be trying to charm the leather pants off of this electro-kid.

"It's a gilded one," Party answered. "But a cage is a cage is a fuckin' cage, you don't need neon angels to guide your way there, Tumbleweed." He glanced over and offered the other as much of a smile as he could muster, which wasn't much, and returned his gaze to the road.

"Were you born with it?" He paused. "Your power."

Gwen was quiet for a moment, thinking about the last cage she was trapped in, and the price to get out of it. It was . . . okay, it was high. She didn't sacrifice herself because she liked the feel of her own body's electricity frying her up.

"Seeing as my mother survived to see my beautiful baby face? I'm thinking not. But then again?" She shrugs, as if it's not really a big deal, as if she hasn't thought about this a million and one times before. "I didn't fall into a chemical plant or anything. I was struck by lightning. But that's kind of a thing."

The truth is, Gwen didn't really know. Seven doctors and four highly qualified and highly paid scientists later and no one else did either.

Party's lips formed into what appeared to be a pout, a slight tightening of the lips a vague lowering of his gaze as he began driving back towards where they came from. He was wishing pretty hard that the acid rain in the zones could could give him super powers instead of a shitty immune system and years and years of his life shaved off. Or the constant radiation that littered Zones 2-6, leaving most Killjoys with no choice but to die early. If they didn't get ghosted by draculoids, first.

Why couldn't he just turn into spider man? Gwen got hit by lightning once and Party's been bathing in toxic soup for 8 years and gets nothing. Not fair.

But Gwen is likable and on his side. Party glanced at the rear view mirror, reaching to try and grab the yellow mask he'd thrown in the back of his car.

"Well, tumbleweed, wish I could be you right about now." It was the truth, and he let out a slight grunt of annoyance when he couldn't quite reach his mask. "But I'm definitely glad to potentially have you on my side. Here's a little trick to surviving out there: don't trust anything, don't trust anyone. Not even the food. It's probably laced."

"Someone looks like he just got his favorite toy taken away," she remarked, the trace of a smile on her face. But she knew that look. It was better than shock and terror, but Gwen didn't like seeing it any more. Guess that nerdy fan-boy thing was just an act. She was just about to make some smartass remark about not being contagious--and really, it was going to be quite the quip--when he spoke.

She couldn't hide her surprise. He wished he could be her? "Trust me, babe, you don't." All he saw was the shiny wrapper, the cool superpowers, and probably the sweet leather outfit. All the bells and whistles and none of the thorns. He would.

"I'll keep that in mind." And she would. And Party, sugar bear, that includes you just a little bit. She wouldn't be making any more deals. "So is starving to death part of your plan too?

The fact that Gwen called him 'babe' confused him, and he couldn't help the brief eyebrow raise. Lingo as lingo all over the place, he supposed, and once he finally leaned back far enough to grab his mask he let go of the steering wheel altogether to put it on, shoving his hair out of the way and adjusting it before turning right. They had essentially just gone in a long circle, now pulling up to where Gwen arrived.

"Not starving. Rationing." He jerked a thumb over to the melted can of dog food. "Emergency supplies in the trunk. I've been using that for now. Power Pup is nasty, but at least I know where it comes from. Big cities like this, they'll rip you to shreds if you're not careful. Little things. Drugged water. Laced food. Propaganda. Next comes the thought adjustment tests and the knock-knock-knockin' in your door 'cause your brother hasn't taken their meds."

01 | holo | location: sanctuary | ARRIVAL

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