#i’ve been sitting on a pile of stuff i’ve commissioned or gotten in trades

[bunmellos]

commission of pavane from my friend polka_bunny on twitter✨

[zonebunny]

Hello, Old Girl

AKA the moment when Party Poison finds the Trans AM 

Puffing his freshly-dyed hair out of his eyes, Party Poison’s features are punctured by a wince as he hauls himself out of the deep pit he’d been exploring for the last twenty minutes or so; letting out a heavy sigh of defeat.

“Nope, just junk over here! Any luck over at your end, Kiddo?”

“Just a load of ol’ papers!”

The Fab Four were currently standing in the middle of the scrapyard that spread out from Zone 1 and way out beyond as far as the eye could see; almost touching the border of Zone 2. This huge junkyard was where everything Better Living Industries couldn’t stand the sight of usually ended up - hence why the Killjoys were stood in the middle of it. For scavengers like themselves, this was practically a goldmine on some good days; but on others like today, their luck ran out and their hopeful searches came up empty.

It also didn’t help that today was one of the hottest days of the summer, and when you were out in the middle of the desert that certainly wasn’t a very comfortable experience to be out in, let alone working. The Killjoys had only been out scavenging for about an hour or so and they were already badly sunburnt, filthy and starving hungry, each carrying a pitifully-empty sack each.

“Ugh, this is fuckin’ pointless! All I’ve found is a few shitty pieces of scrapmetal, and they’ll only get a couple of carbons each if we’re lucky!” 

A whine to Poison’s left made him squint up at the shorter figure hunched over one of the more towering junkpiles, the scarlet-haired leader raising his hand up to shield his eyes as he focuses on Fun Ghoul, who was waving his bag in the air to emphasise his statement; the contents clinking against each other dully.

“Whatcha find? Droid parts?”

“Yeah; got a few batteries and what looks like part of a hand - actually, might be a foot…” As Ghoul speaks, he looks into the depths of his bag and tilts his head at an odd angle to examine his finds, frowning in distaste. “What a shit haul.”

“Hey, don’t give up hope yet. At least you didn’t get oil in your hair…” Another voice pipes up as the figure of Jet Star appears from behind what looked like the remains of an old refrigerator, the wild-haired Killjoy tugging at his ‘fro to prove that his hair was in fact matted with old oil, his face screwed-up in disgust.

“Yikes. That’ll suck trying to get that out of your hair…”

Kobra Kid finally rejoins the group, and like Ghoul he was holding a rather empty sack in his right hand. Jet’s sat on top of the fridge, containing a burnt-out toaster that he figured he might be able to salvage some parts from and a few stray half-empty battery packs. Poison had been the most successful so far, with a handful of old records he’d found at the bottom of an old box of Murder magazines and a couple of BLI-issued blasters that he reckoned he’d be able to polish up and paint for commissions.

“The sun’s gonna start getting low soon. Wanna call it a day or keep on at it?” Kid suggests, looking to his brother for answers - as leader, it was his call. As Poison dusts his hands off on his already-filthy jeans, he glances between his friends; noticing how weary and exhausted they all looked. It had been a tough day for them all.

“We’ll finish up here for the day, then check out that ghost-town nearby that Doc told us about the other day. Pony reckons that it’s been untouched, and I sure want first-dibs on anything decent we can find.” Poison states, the other three nodding eagerly in agreement - they were keen to finish up and head home as soon as possible.

After another hour of thorough scavenging, the Killjoys finally admit defeat as they haul their sacks of scrapmetal and other trading goods back to Show Pony’s van, ready to hit the road again and explore this desert-town. Once their finds had been stashed safely in the back of the van, the Fab Four pile on into it and settle down for the journey; Jet Star climbing behind the wheel with Kid sitting up in front beside him.

With a low groan, Poison slides himself down the side of the van and spreads his legs out in front of him; looking like a broken toy puppet. Ghoul mimics his pose across from him, tucking his knees up to his chest and resting his back against the cold metal of the van’s door, rubbing the back of his aching neck and wincing.

“Fuck, I got burnt bad…”

“I got some aloe vera in my bag!” Jet calls over his shoulder, waving to Kid to go get it. Kobra does so instantly, ducking down and pulling the brown satchel up into his lap and proceeding to fumble around in it until he found what he was looking for; the cutting of aloe vera that Jet carried on him practically at all times. Kid holds out the green stalk to Ghoul, who accepts it eagerly and squeezes the end of it to make it ooze sap.

“Oh, thank Destroya.” Ghoul sighs out happily in relief as he rubs the end of the plant along the back of his neck, his expression one of pure bliss. The look on his face was almost erotic, which causes Poison to go pink and quickly look down - he could easily picture that same look on Ghoul’s face when he was doing something else…

“You alright, Poise? You’ve been pretty quiet today…” Kobra then pipes up, turning around in his seat and folding his arms over the back of it so he could see and talk to his big brother. Poison couldn’t help a small smile appear on his face at the sight of Kid - the sun looked good on him, his features flushed and tan beneath the smears of dirt and oil on his baby brother’s face. Kid’s shades were now balanced on his bright blonde hair, which was all messed-up over his forehead from working all day.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just wish we could’ve gotten a better haul than we did…” Poison shrugs, letting out a low sigh through his nose. There had been days when they’d found so much good stuff that they’d had a struggle getting it all to fit in the van to take home; it made the huddle of sacks in the corner now look even more pitiful in comparison.

“It’s alright, man; it’s like you said - good days and bad days…” Ghoul pipes up, smiling reassuringly and holding out the cutting of aloe vera to Poison; he’d burned his hand on the top of the bumper of a wrecked-up car earlier on. With little smile of gratitude, Poison accepts the cutting and smears the cooling gel-like sap over the shiny red burn running along his thumb and down towards the middle of his palm, wincing as it starts to tingle.

“Hey, we might get lucky at this place! Ponyboy sounded excited.” Jet comments, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead. Ghoul laughs at this, rolling his eyes.

“Pony gets excited over everything, Starman. It’s part of what makes them so...well, Pony.”

“Got that right.” Kid agrees, smiling fondly at the thought of their fabulous sparkly friend back at the Diner, who was currently looking after the Girl while the Fab Four were out scavenging. They made the best babysitter.

“Let’s just hope they’re right…” Poison murmurs, a hopeful look in his eyes as he turns his gaze out the back windows of the van as he watches the Zones zip past behind them; dust billowing into the air in their wake.

                                                  ==============

As Jet pulls the van up to the rotting gates of the town, the Killjoys peer through the window at their surroundings in both curiosity and caution - the place sure was abandoned alright, which gave it that creepy haunted vibe that made them feel like they were being watched, though the only life around aside from them were a few scraggly stray desert cats that prowled about and watched them exit the van with wide lamp-like eyes, before scurrying away back into the shadows.

“Stick close - any sign of trouble, shout.” Poison murmurs to the others once they bundle out of the van, his hand resting over his holster where the handle of his yellow blaster stuck out. The others nod curtly before they disband, heading in different directions in order to spread out and cover more ground quickly.

As Ghoul makes his way towards what appeared to be the old town hall and Kid towards the nearest run-down store, Jet remains on the main street while Poison ventures off towards a row of old houses - by the looks of things, the people who once lived here simply dropped everything and disappeared. There were a number of old rusted cars littered about the street, so as Jet started exploring them Poison makes his way towards a house with a front porch and cracked windows; the front door hanging off his hinges.

Something had been here, definitely; but it was impossible to tell if it had been fellow Killjoys or desert-dwellers or Draculoids. As Poison carefully steps onto the first creaky step of the patio, his hand comes to rest firmly over the handle of his blaster as he peers into the depths of the house through the broken windows - or what remained of them, anyway.

Tattered curtains drifted ghost-like in the hot desert wind as Poison slowly steps past the threshold, sand crunching under his feet. The winds had blown sand and desert debris right into the interior of the house, the carpets now looking more like a beach than flooring. However, Poison spies a few cupboards that looked pretty promising and so quickly gets to work; pulling them open and rummaging inside.

Pony had been partially right; he doubted that Killjoys had been here, as there was plenty of supplies and items that they wouldn’t have just left behind. However, he had a suspicion that perhaps some Waveheads might have used this place as a pit-stop at some point once. It made sense; the town was a perfect suntrap, and the way there had been furniture littered about the street gave Poison the idea that a group might have stopped by here while in the search for a hit - those junkies would follow the sun even when it set if they could.

That would explain why so many abandoned belongings still remained here; Waveheads didn’t care for material items.

The chest of drawers Poison was now looking through was proving to be already much more successful than the scavenging site - he was finding jewellry, old photos, papers, books. Anything of trade value or personal interest he slipped into the open sack at his feet, pleased to see it gradually swelling in size; especially when he comes across a whole rack of jackets and shoes, some of which would clean up rather nicely with some TLC.

As Poison passes through to the kitchen, he follows his reflection on every mirrored surface - he felt like such an intruder into this home, despite the fact it certainly hadn’t been a home in a very long time. His gaze then lingers on a countertop that was littered with picture-frames, depicting the same family - a mother, father, and two sons.

Poison felt a hard lump suddenly form in his throat as he slowly extends his hand towards the frame taking centreplace, which was the largest photo of the lot - a cracked and faded portrait of the two sons, two brothers. The oldest was blonde, the youngest was brunette; they both looked to be no older than between ten and twelve years old.

Poison then wondered what had happened to them; what had caused this family to suddenly leave their entire lives behind, to run away. He couldn’t understand why he was feeling so odd about this - he didn’t know these people, they were strangers. He figured he was feeling so strange because it was most likely that they were dead now, and this was all that remained of them - the only proof that they ever existed…

Quickly shaking it off, Poison sets the photo down again and looks away; no, don’t think about it too much. You’re here for a reason.

With a low sigh, Poison rearranges the sack he was carrying over his shoulder and slips into the kitchen, setting the sack down again at his feet with a low grunt before starting to rummage through the cupboards. To his dismay, they were mostly empty, but he did manage to find some pots and pans and utensils that would still come in handy, so into the sack they went. Just as he loops a frying-pan to the outside of the bag, Poison’s eyes then linger on an object lying in a decorative bowl on the kitchen table; his eyes widening in realisation.

Keys. Car keys.

And where there’s car keys, there may be a working car…

Excitement bubbling up inside him, Poison picks up the keys and gazes down at them sitting in the palm of his hand for a second; his thumb brushing against the grooves of the main key. Could he really get so lucky…?

Picking up his bag as quickly as he could, Poison’s eyes dart around the room and he spies a backdoor at the end of the hallway; that sure looked promising. Figuring that he couldn’t really carry much else and that he could always return to this place to explore further if needed, Poison pads silently down the hallway and nudges open the backdoor with his shoulder, which to his delight led straight out to what he could see what appeared to be a garage.

Oh please, please, please…

Almost stumbling over his boots in eagerness, Poison sets his sack down at his feet again as his eyes scan over the garage door, looking for a way to open it. At the bottom he sees a padlock, and at first he curses; thinking he’d reached a dead-end. But then he remembers the keys and quickly pulls them back out of his pocket, and with a jolt of excitement he sees that it does have a smaller key that looks like it could work out with this padlock rather nicely…

Taking a deep breath, Poison kneels down and carefully starts to fumble with the padlock; feeling shock vibrate through his bones when the key actually fits. He then takes a step back logically, calming himself down - he shouldn’t get his hopes up, after all. There was a very slim chance that there could be anything behind this metal door…

Not wasting a second longer - and unable to wait - Party Poison unlocks the padlock and takes hold of the door, sliding it upwards. Poison immediately wafts away the dust that had clouded up into the air as he does so, coughing quietly, and as sunlight filters into the interior of the garage for the first time in years, Poison takes a careful step forward and squints inside - and when he sees the sight that met him he stumbles back a step in shock; his eyes as wide as saucers.

Under a grey tarpaulin lay a large object that dominated the majority of the room; a big, car-shaped object.

Trembling in awe and excitement, Poison manages to unfreeze as he slowly steps inside; wandering around the back of the object in an almost trance-like state. This thing was huge, and by the shape under the protective tarpaulin, it certainly wasn’t anything like the lumps of scrapmetal rusting outside on the main street.

Poison then reaches forward, grabs hold of a handful of the plastic, and pulls.

As the protective layer rustles loudly as it starts to slide off the vehicle, when Poison sees the words revealed on the back he freezes up again as if he’d been stunned by a Draculoid, stumbling back a step in shock; TRANS AM.

No. Fucking. Way.

And the next thing Party Poison knew, he was standing in front of a 1979 Pontiac Firebird Trans AM. In perfect condition. Not a scratch on it’s pristine white surface.

“Holy shit…” Poison’s hushed voice seemed so loud as it echoes off the walls of the garage, extending a trembling hand to touch the bodywork of the magnificent vehicle before him; to check if it was really real. Feeling the cool metal beneath his palm, a wide slightly-crazed grin spreads over Poison’s features as his hand flies to his belt; scrambling for his communicator.

“Guys! Guys, you’ll never guess what I’ve fucking found - I’m around the back of the blue house off of Main, come and get me!” Poison hisses excitedly into the speaker, hearing the crackle of static follow for a second before a familiar voice replies through the airwaves - Ghoul.

“Oh c’mon Poise, I’m almost on the other side of town! Just spill!”

“No, you have to come see! Over and out.” Poison abruptly clicks off the channel as he clips the communicator back onto his belt; his eyes drinking in the entirety of the Trans AM eagerly, as if he were afraid it would vanish into thin air.

Poison hadn’t believed in love at first sight; not until now.

Dust crunches under Poison’s feet as he eases his way around the side of the Trans AM, not taking his eyes off of its sleek surface as he manoeuvres his way towards the driver’s seat, wanting to inspect his discovery closer. He couldn’t believe his luck; he had no idea how this family could have owned such a vehicle, let alone just left it here to rot. It was unlike any car he’d ever seen - and although Poison had to admit, he wasn’t exactly a pro on cars, he’d definitely heard of a Trans AM before - it was as almost as iconic as the DeLorean. It looked pretty similar, too, as the overall shape definitely reminded him of it.

Shielding his eyes from the setting sun, Poison leans in and peers inside through the window; praying that he wasn’t going to discover the remains of the family inside. Thankfully, he didn’t; the car was totally vacant, not so much as a child’s car-seat or a pair of fluffy-dice hanging from the wing-mirror in sight.

Poison came to the conclusion that this definitely hadn’t been the family car; it was much too pristine, unless this family had been a serious bunch of neat-freaks. He figured that this must’ve been the dad’s pride and joy, which he’d chosen to keep out of the harsh sun.

Poison then felt a pang of sadness; a car like this didn’t deserve to be locked away, kept in the dark. She deserved to be out on the road, speeding through the Zones, exploring their world…

“You beauty…” Poison breathes out loud as he spies the interior - brown leather seats, black harnesses. This car definitely had a history - one that Poison was eager to discover.

Just as Poison made to unlock the door, two sets of footsteps could be heard approaching; causing Poison to snap his head up and rest his hand over his holster. But when he heard his own name being called by a familiar voice - Kobra - he relaxes, a smug smile creeping onto his face.

“Over here! ‘Round the back, guys!”

Seconds later, a flustered Jet Star and Kobra Kid jog around the corner and come to an abrupt halt when they see what Poison had found; Kid’s expression falling into one of utter shock and amazement beneath his shades while Jet’s jaw literally drops open at the sight of the Trans, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Is that…?”

“It sure is! And she’s all mine!” Poison grins like a madman, patting the hood of the Trans AM fondly as the other two approach, their eyes flickering over the bumper of the car in awe.

“How on earth did you come across this?” Jet then exclaims, walking around the passenger side and taking a peek in through the back window. “Dude, she must be worth a fortune! Look at that condition - she looks like she’s barely seen the sun!”

“I know…” Poison’s expression suddenly softens, turning his gaze back to the car as he rests his hand over the handle; hesitating just as the incoming footsteps signalled Ghoul’s arrival. 

“But that’s all gonna change, hey ol’ girl? She’s coming home with us…”