Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Uneven sandy footprints trailed across the sand, one making boot prints, the other dragging the sand further along the path. The teenager the footsteps belonged to blinked hazily in the sun's rays, the beams of light digging into his eyes. One eye remained half open, while the other was covered with a poorly made brown eyepatch. He could feel the torn fabric digging into the back of his head, itching his mess of curly green hair.

The teen lifted his heavy arm, scratching at the eyepatch at an itch that wasn't there. His arm fell limply at his side again. His backpack seemed to weigh more with every step, the lime green blaster bumping against his thigh in its holster seemed to taunt him, getting heavier with the weight of its kills.

The horizon blurred around him, cacti twisting around his eyes, the ground swaying under his feet. Yet he continued on, despite not even knowing why. A dull ringing echoed between his ears, bouncing back and forth in his head, the ringing being the only noise to accompany the dragging of his boots across the ground.

His eyes flickered to the space next to him.

"Shut up" He hissed under his breath, even his lips creaked with the movement.

The figure next to him put their hands up in mock surrender, scoffing at his words. They didn't seem as exhausted as the other boy was, walking tall and strong, completely opposite to the hunched over figure next to them.

"I didn't even say anythin'!" The figure complained, shaking their head.

The other teenager rolled his eyes, the white socket under the eyepatch aching with the movement. He could barely feel the pain from it anymore, but every so often it seemed to taunt him, reminding him it was there, reminding him of what he had done.

"You didn't have to. I know what you're thinking" He muttered, gaze flickering back to the long winding road in front of him. He hadn't seen another checkpoint in days, he didn't even know what Zone he was in, let alone where another safe house was.

"I'm you. I am what you're thinking, genius" The figure ridiculed.

The boy groaned, running an aching arm through his green curls. "Fuck off!" He snapped, his throat scratching his insides with the volume. He turned to glare at the figure, only to be met with an empty space next to him.

He stopped walking, turning around to see only one trail of uneven footprints in the sand behind him. He deflated, running his hand through his matted curls once more.

Was this really it? A bitter end to a life that started so colourfully? He used to feel like he could take on the whole desert if they'd let him, and now he could barely walk in a straight line. A life once so bright, a boy once made of ash and honey, now an empty pile of flesh, rotting away from the inside. Skin scrapped raw from wars he shouldn't be in. A bitter ending for a bitter life.

It didn't take long for the voice to reappear.

"It's about time you gave up" They scoffed, watching the teen pathetically hobble his way down the road. The boy sighed, why couldn't they just leave him alone? Even in death the voice still buzzed around his ears.

He ignored the voice, the scoffing and the taunting. It wasn't real, it never had been. Him talking to it had only made it worse. He was alone, just like he had been for only the Witch knows how long. Sure he made brief acquaintances around the desert; basement parties, roller derbies, even going to Hyper Thrust more times than he could count. But none of that meant anything, in the end. Nothing ever did. Life was fleeting in the desert, and he was wasting away every second he spent drifting along, moments away from succumbing to the sun's rays and letting the golden glow take him somewhere nicer. Anywhere other than here.

But instead, he continued walking for reasons he didn't even know himself.

"You can't ignore me" The voice spoke up again, agitation clear in their voice.

"Yes I can" The teen muttered, barely even able to move his lips to dignify a proper response.

How much longer could he force himself to walk before his legs gave out on him entirely?

"You're a coward" The voice hissed directly into his ears, and yet he continued. Pathetically stumbling down the desert like he had something to fight for.

He walked until he couldn't anymore, leaning against a dim light post and sliding down it, knees tucked up to his chest. He knew damn well he was a coward, a coward that ran. A coward that couldn't fight when it was needed the most, a coward that let people down. He knew that's all he would ever be. A coward.

The boy's head fell into his knees, covering his burning head with his exposed arms. Scars littered his arms and hands, some new, some old. It was hard to tell which ones had been purposefully inflicted, and which ones had come from firefights. Picked apart and bleeding nails gently played with hair, simply wanting to just give his hands something to do. If he concentrated for long enough, it felt like another person was comforting him. He could feel his hands shaking, his entire body groaning against him with every creak and sigh he made.

"Are you finally ready to give up? Admit defeat and realise you should have died with the rest of them?" God, the voice was insufferable. He couldn't stand it's taunts and whines and comments. But the boy knew it was right, he was ready to give up. It seemed louder now that he had stopped walking.

"I already knew that part" He scoffed quietly. His eyelids drooped shut, exhaustion washing over his battered body. This wasn't living anymore, he hadn't been alive for a long time. A part of him had died with them that day, and ever since then he'd been a hollow shell. A soul with nowhere to go.

He wasn't a Killjoy, he didn't deserve that title anymore. Killjoy's didn't live like this, Killjoy's didn't just barely make their way through the long summer days and lie awake at night, too afraid to sleep from the persistent nightmares that plagued their minds whenever they closed their eyes. He wasn't any different from the stray Draculoid's that wandered the desert, strays that had forgotten their purpose and wandered like the undead.

Killjoy's didn't consider giving up and returning to Battery City.

"You should just end it. Be done with it all already. Give. UP." The voice continued.

The teen could practically feel the menacing figure looming over him, it's shadows encasing him, hiding him away from the rest of the desert. On one hand, it felt protective. Like nothing could hurt him anymore if he stayed in his position, but on the other hand it was just suffocating. Like his lungs were filling with water and he was about to spit it all out at any second, his eyesight was going black and spotty and the longer he stayed here the easier he'd fall into the shadows traps.

He gripped his hair tightly, tugging on the strands as he grit his teeth. He lifted his head out of his knees to stare ahead of him.

And of course, there was nothing.

No figure, no voices, no protective bubble wrapped around him.

Just, sand. Sand for miles.

He was getting sick of the colour yellow.

No people, no outposts, no buildings.

Would he even be able to handle people anymore?

Getting as drunk as humanly possible at basement shows, or flirting his way into free drinks at Hyper Thrust and waking up in a strangers hideout (or even while still in the building) didn't seem to count as human interaction anymore. It was all a daze, none of it seemed real. Like he was drifting his way through life, a ghost in the desert. He'd been out on his own for so long now, was there even any point in attempting to connect with someone else? Just the mere thought of having a regular conversation with a Killjoy was daunting enough on its own. He had been buried in the static for so long he wasn't sure he even wanted to leave it.

Maybe the voice was right.

"I know I'm right" Of course it had read his mind. The voice was a part of him, the embodiment of countless months spent alone. "Sitting here sulking isn’t going to bring them back. Wouldn't you like to reunite with them?"

Reunited. It almost felt too good to be true. And he knew it was, he knew what reuniting with them really meant. But he'd been on his own for far too long, and he wanted nothing more than to see their faces again.

He closed his eyes again, leaning his head back on the light post, letting a cool summer breeze drift over his face and softly run through his hair. A kiss from the Witch, a reminder he was awake, a reminder his heart was still beating.

Not for much longer, though.

He didn't reply to the voice, instead pulling out an old busted radio from his backpack. It had clearly seen better days, the orange paint was mostly chipped off, revealing the black and silver underneath. The stickers were long faded, most of them were impossible to tell what they originally were. But it still worked, and teen didn't complain.

The green haired boy fiddled with the radios dial before landing on Dr Death-Defying's station, the static sparking from the speakers barely phasing him. He was used to it. The teen could barely make out half of what the notorious DJ was saying, but all he made out were the numbers "4-1-8-1-3".

And that was all he needed. The code, a warning of a Draculoid patrol incoming, a large swarm of them clouding the desert.

And all he needed to do was find them.

Should be easy enough, a 4-1-8-1-3 usually meant the swarm would be patrolling most of the desert, most likely along the main roads, which is exactly what he'd been following for hours anyway. And it wasn't as if they were very hard to miss, their stark white cars stood out horribly against the golden desert dunes and posts Killjoy's had marked as their own.

As Dr Death-Defying went on to talk about something the teen didn't care about, he switched the radio off and shoved it back into his backpack, pulling out a journal and pen instead.

"A diary? Really? I always told you to throw that thing away" The shadow mocked, its voice swirling around the boy's ears. But he simply didn't listen, flicking to a new page and beginning to write with shaking hands.

Star.

I'm sorry. That's all I really know how to say anymore. It should have been me, not you, or the others. But that's okay, cuz I'll be joining you soon.

I hope you can forgive me

And maybe not hit me when you see me again

I hope I was a good brother

Tell Buzz, Crim and Addy I miss them too. But we'll all be together again soon enough. The Misfits reunited once more

I can't take being alone any longer

I love you
Riot

Radio Riot stared at the note for a moment, the poor handwriting and spelling mistakes irking him, but he didn't have time to make it perfect, he just needed it done. He ripped the page out of the journal, folded it in half and shoved it into his pocket, putting the journal and pen back into his backpack.

Riot stood up and stretched, a new found hope in his chest. A feeling he hadn't had for a while, it was almost foreign. He threw his backpack over his shoulder, and began making the trek on the main road in search for the Drac's.

So, this was really it then. He'd finally be able to see them all again, all the pain and anger he'd been carrying with him would finally slip from his shoulders. Just the thought of being freed from the warm confines of the desert was enough to make him walk faster, scouting out for the Patrol through blurry vision.

He hoped they'd all forgive him for what he had done.

Riot still had no idea what Zone he was in until he passed the boarder sign marking the beginning of Zone Two, eyebrows raising at the convenience. Signs like these were plastered every few miles along the boarders of each Zone, giving a little extra help to lost Runners like himself. It was less of a sign and more of an outpost declaring he was entering Zone two, covered in graffiti and old smoldering holes from stray blaster shots.

Not too far off from the post was a Mail Box, one of the very few in Zone Two. There were more Mail Boxes in the Zones further up the desert. The lack of them in Zones One and Two were more so to protect them from Drac's and Crows destroying them.

Riot made his way over to the box, tracing his dark calloused hand over the years-worth of markings and writings overlapping each other, traces of the original blue metal colour just barely visible. Old long burnt out candles sat in front of the Mail Box, dead and dried flowers littering the sand around it. Riot didn't linger around it for long, an empty feeling always settled in his chest whenever he spent too long around the Mail Boxes. He pulled the letter out his pocket, thumb gently rubbing over the creases in the paper. Without much thought, Riot slipped the letter into the Mail Box opening, hearing the gentle tap of it hitting the bottom. He hoped the Phoenix Witch would deliver it for him. He had faith she would.

With one last glance at the Box, Radio Riot turned away and continued walking. He also had faith he'd run into the Patrol soon enough, he could practically feel the rumbling of their cars in his chest.

"Finally!" A familiar voice scoffed in his ear. "This is the ending you deserve."

Riot sighed, the peace only lasted so long.

Riot couldn't help but agree with it, however. He wrapped his arms around himself, his last human embrace before he let a different warmth cover him. He was no stranger to getting scorched by blaster shots, the proof being the eyepatch across his eye. He didn't need it anymore, but he learned pretty early on the empty white space where his pupil used to be scared other Killjoy's and Runners.

"Only the Witch knows why you insisted on living this long" The voice continued, walking alongside Riot with their arms crossed.

"It was admirable at first, I'll admit. But then it just got pathetic. Watching you limp around as if you had something to look for, something to live for."

Riot could feel his thoughts spiraling through his brain as he walked, a prisoner in his own body.

"I know, okay? Believe me, I fucking know" He hissed into empty air. Maybe it was a good thing no one else was around, they'd think he was an off the rocks Wavehead.

"Do you? Do you really?" The voice seemed louder around him, the sounds of the desert being drowned out by the tones echoing around him.

"You really are fucking pathetic, Radio Riot. I don't know why you survived instead of me, I always was a born leader. Do I even call you Riot anymore? It's not as if you deserve the title of a Killjoy anymore." The voice was on a roll, growing louder and louder in Riot's head. He clenched his eyes shut, desperate to drown it out.

"You're below the Waveheads, the radiation runners. You're just some miserable fuckin' Gravehead who should have died instead of me!" It snapped, the noise reverberating across Riot's head.

Riot stooped walking and cried out in frustration, his eyes clenched shut as he slammed his palms into his head, poorly attempting to punch the thoughts away from his brain. An aggravated sob escaped his throat, tears bubbling behind his eyes as he cried out to nothing.

"¡Callarse la boca! Shut the fuck up! I know, I fucking know, okay?!" He screamed into the wind.

Nobody replied.

The sky remained empty.

Riot opened his eyes, hazily scanning the desert. He was alone. Like usual. His only company was the blistering sun high above his head, and the gentle windy whispers from the Witch.

He let out a shaky breath, lowering his hands from his head and wincing at the dull throb that radiated from his palms and head. Riot looked around once more, as if hoping someone not from his hazed mind would appear.

But like always, the desert remained empty.

So Radio Riot shook his head, and continued walking.

It didn't take much longer to find the Battery City issued cars scattered along the sand. Just like Riot had thought, their sleek shiny white designs were a complete contrast to the sand surrounding them. They stood out like a sore thumb, and a rageful ache appeared in Riot's chest at the sight of them all.

Six cars in total, about a dozen Draculoid's copied and pasted around them, rubber Dracula masks fused over their faces, and white blasters in hand. Riot stood and watched them all for a moment, not caring if they spotted him. He analysed them like animals in cages, the way they stood and seemed to communicate with each other. Like they had no proper control over their bodies.

Riot didn't know a lot about what went on inside Better Living Industries, but he knew that Draculoid's used to be humans too. But that humanity was drained out of them, forced to become soulless murderers hellbent on making sure Killjoys were eradicated from the desert. Riot was sure there was a time he felt sympathetic for them, but not anymore. His chest felt cold at the sight of them, despite the heat from the sun above. He couldn't muster up any emotion for the Draculoid's or the Scarecrow exterminators besides pure burning anger.

Riot pulled out his own green blaster from its holster, lifting his arm up and raising it lazily in the Draculoid's direction. He didn't bother aiming as he simply stared at the group for a moment. A disgusted sneer curled onto his lips as his finger squeezed the trigger. The bright colourful ray shot through the air, planting itself directly into the chest of one of the Drac's, the force knocking it backwards and onto the sand. Riot would have applauded himself for the shot if the circumstances were different.

The other Drac's heads snapped toward their fallen companion before turning to where the shot had come from, directly at Radio Riot stood out in the open.

Riot smiled bitter-sweetly as the Drac's immediately began shooting at him without remorse, some even running toward him so the rays scorched him harder.

Riot didn't fight back.

He let his blaster fall from his hand and land in the sand with a soft thump. He barely even flinched when burning rays skimmed his arms and legs, the wounds immediately beginning to blister and bleed through his skin and clothes, forcing him to stumble back. The shots burned, blood bubbling down his arms and legs, pooling around his palms.

This was what he wanted, right? His heart didn't pound aggressively in his chest, his mind wasn't racing with countless possibilities, and his life wasn't flashing before his eyes like he'd always thought it would. Maybe that was a good thing. For the first time in what felt like years, Riot felt content with where he was. Even as blaster shots hit his legs, forcing him to crumble to his knees, his blood soaking into the sand as his shaking body collapsed. Even as his vision blurred and even as a few of the Draculoid's ran toward him, there was a smile on his face.

Riot barely registered the sudden blaring of music in the distance, the screeching of tyres sounding more like an illusion than a car coming to a sudden stop next to him. The blurry sight of four colourful teenagers jumping out the car and shooting back at the Draculoid's barely even bothered Riot, the sound of their voices only lulling him to a peaceful rest.

"We got a full house, boys! Let's sunset these fucks!" One of the voices yelled, loud and confident and clearly itching for the fight.

"We got a floater too! He's pretty scorched-"

The ringing in Riot's ears muffled the voices, leaving a dull ache in his head. His smile wavered slightly, the voices seeming all too familiar. They looked different, much taller than he remembered, and where was Star's pink hair? No matter, they had come for him. He was so close to seeing them again, he could feel it. They were here, personally escorting him to the afterlife themselves. The weight of the last year and a half finally lifted from Riot's shoulders, and he welcomed the sudden warm embrace with open and bloody arms.

The fog clouding Riot's brain clogged his train of thought, his skin pulsing with each breath he took. He wasn't sure which one would be his last, but he couldn't bring himself to care. With one last wobble of his lips, Radio Riot closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Radio Riot could feel the sudden jolt in his heart, the rapid thumping against his chest signifying he was alive. He didn't want to open his eyes, he could feel the rise and fall of his chest staggering slightly as it got used to Riot regaining control of himself.

He hadn't died.

The thought made him want to curl up in a ball and cry, was there anything he could do correctly?

Riot knew he hadn’t been taken back to the city. There was a radio softly playing from somewhere in whatever room he was in. The plush material underneath him seemed to dig deeper into his back, the cool material reminding him he was still able to feel. He wouldn't be lying there if a Scarecrow Unit had taken him in.

So where the fuck was he?

Did he even want to find out? Maybe if he held his breath long enough, whatever or whoever had helped him would think he died and get rid of him? Maybe if he stayed still for as long as he could, someone would realise he was dead weight and get rid of him them themselves.

"I know you're awake" An unfamiliar voice called out, making Riot's body jolt unwillingly at the intrusion. The tone was a lot more blunt and gruff than the voice he was so used to hearing next to him. But somehow less annoying.

Shit.

"Whaaaat, nooooo. I'm sleeping" Riot mumbled almost sarcastically, internally kicking himself for the sudden awkwardness. This guy very likely saved his life, and he was going to lie there and play dead? But it wasn't as if he wanted to be saved, he didn't throw himself into that firefight for nothing. He had finally had a goal, his final purpose. And he couldn't even complete that properly.

The person scoffed, and Riot could practically feel them rolling their eyes. "Open your damn eyes."

It sounded more like a threat than a request, so Radio Riot reluctantly opened his eyes, squinting to adjust to the sudden bright lights that bombarded his senses. This guy had electricity?

"I can only open one of them" He joked lightly, referring to the eyepatch covering his left eye, hoping to maybe ease the awkward tension that had settled over them.

The person didn't reply.

As Riot's vision adjusted, he took in the looks of the boy sat in the chair next to him. The boy was blonde, and Buzzkill's name was at the tip of Riot's tongue, he had to bite his cheek to avoid saying anything else stupid.
Riot figured he was lying on a couch, while the blonde who seemed to be around his age had made himself comfortable in a chair next to him. The boy's hair swooped up in various directions, a cluster of freckles littering his cheeks and nose, and in his hands he held a rather sharp (and badass, Riot thought) looking knife.
There was something about this teenager Riot recognised, but he couldn't put his finger on where or why. He hoped deep down this wasn't someone he'd gotten with during one of his many drunken nights.

Riot's stomach churned at the sudden realisation not only had he not been ghosted, what he thought was the Misfits coming and taking him home with them, was in fact this Killjoy sat in front of him and possibly some other Killjoy's too.

He fought back the burning that stung the back of his eyes, tears forming at the fact he was still alive and would have to continue as if he didn't just make an attempt on his own life in the hopes of seeing his family again.

"Who are you?" Blondie asked rather bluntly, pointing the knife in Riot's direction and knocking the boy from his spiral toward a breakdown.

"Uh" Riot stumbled for a moment. "Riot. Radio Riot" He replied, figuring he should at least attempt to be polite and hopefully not get stabbed to death. He'd been stabbed before, and none of them had been pleasant. Maybe the nicer he was, the quicker they could get everything out the way and he'd be able to leave sooner.

Before the other Killjoy could ask anything else, Riot spoke again. "Where the fuck am I?"

He figured maybe he should ask for Blondie's name before asking where he was, but part of him didn't particularly care. He was curious, of course, but he didn't plan on sticking around and making polite conversation. What was the point in knowing Blondie's name if he wasn't going to stick around long enough to remember it? He didn't even bother learning the names of the Runners and Zonies he flirted with in basement shows and Hyper Thrust.

Blondie leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at Riot as he twirled his knife between his fingers. "The Diner. Zone Six."

Riot's eyes widened, lips parting like he wanted to say something, but all he could manage was a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. Zone Six? How long had he been out for, and how long had he been in this Diner?

"You were out for what, a week? I dunno. Jet'll know. Thought you were gonna bleed out in that car." Blondie's voice was calm, but Riot could see the way his shoulders tightened whenever Riot made a sudden movement, and the way he gripped his knife so tightly Riot could see his knuckles turning white.

He didn't trust Riot.

Which was fair enough, Riot thought. He was some strange Killjoy that had been sleeping on this guy's couch for a week straight. Though, Blondie did mention a 'Jet', which made Riot think Blondie wasn't the only guy in the Diner. But then again, it wasn't like Riot was in any fit condition to fight at the moment. He didn't even have his blaster on him, nor his backpack. All he had was the clothes on his back. Riot assumed Blondie and 'Jet' must have taken his pack and blaster off him and hidden them somewhere. They'd even taken his blaster holster, Riot realised. The familiar weight of the fabric against his thigh was missing, leaving the spot feeling oddly empty and cold.

Riot looked away from Blondie, looking down at the white tinted red bandages wrapped around his arm and legs. He tilted his head, realising his wounds didn't hurt anymore. His limbs ached from the lack of movement, but he wasn't bleeding, and the burns had been treated.

He'd been helped. By more than one person, it seemed. Blondie and his friend, or even friends, had taken him in when he was half dead on the desert floor and wasted their own supplies to nurse him back to health.

The gesture made Riot want to tear his bandages off and vomit. He figured some part of him was supposed to feel grateful to have survived, but that wasn't what he wanted. For once he'd been so ready for something to go his way. He could practically feel the Witch pulling at his shoe laces, and yet she had let go. And a small twinge of resentment festered in Riot's chest for both the Phoenix Witch and the blonde Killjoy in front of him.

"Why?" He asked instead, looking back up at Blondie with furrowed eyes.

The other teen stopped twirling his knife and looked at Riot quizzically, as if he were expecting Riot to say anything else, not question why he was saved. "Why what?"

Riot shrugged, one hand beginning to pick at the corner of the bandages on his arms. He didn't like the fact he was wearing a regular t-shirt, one that definitely wasn't his. Nor was he wearing the jeans he'd been wearing previously, they'd been swapped for a pair of shorts. To make it easier to bandage his legs, he assumed. But his arms had been exposed to Blondie and his potential gang, and the thought made Riot shiver despite the warmth in the room. "Why did you help me?"

This time, Blondie remained silent for a moment before following Riot's footsteps and shrugging, going back to fiddling with his knife.

"You were dying. Killjoy's don't leave other Killjoy's behind. Plus, the others insisted."

The others. So it wasn't just Blondie and 'Jet'. Riot couldn't tell if that made him feel better or worse, knowing there was more than one other Killjoy wandering this Diner, knowing he was there. He wondered who's shirt he was wearing.

Before Riot could reply, another person walked into the room. He was much taller, donning the coolest looking afro Riot had ever seen, one that put his own curls to shame. He seemed shocked Riot was awake and sitting up.

"You're finally awake! That's good, I was starting to get worried." He grinned. He seemed much more friendly than Blondie, who was still staring at Riot and analysing every movement he made. Blondie hadn't smiled at him once, and this other Killjoy had a much more welcoming presence as he moved next to the chair Blondie was on.

Riot tried to smile back, just to be polite, but only mustered a small wobble of his lips. "Ah. Thank you. For- saving me, 'n' shit."

No, not thank you. This isn't how it was supposed to be. Fuck you for being a good person and not leaving me to die.

The boy smiled wider, moving over and placing a glass of water down on the table next to Blondie. Riot couldn't help but stare at the glass for a moment, watching the clear liquid swirl around its container. When was the last time he had actually had water? Or just a drink that wasn't whatever shows and clubs he crashed at were serving?

"Course. Couldn't just leave one of us to ghost on the side of the road. I'm Jet Star, and that's Kobra Kid, assuming Kobra just didn't introduce himself." The boy spoke lightly, gesturing to the blonde Killjoy now dubbed as Kobra Kid, who only huffed in response.

Riot chuckled slightly, tilting his head. "Radio Riot." So much for not caring enough to know these guys names.

Jet star nodded. "Good to meet you Riot. Glad you're doin' better. It's also good to have a name to that face, instead of calling you that kid." He chuckled.

Riot nodded, not exactly knowing what to say in response to that. He didn't like the fact he'd been knocked out for a week in some random Diner in a Zone much further away from where he originally was. It wasn't like he had anywhere to be, or anywhere to go. But the image of these Killjoy's driving his bleeding out body from Zone Two to Zone Six made him feel sick.

He tilted his head, pursing his lips as he thought about the names Jet Star had just given him. There was something familiar about the two of them, right on the tip of his tongue before it suddenly clicked, and he spoke without thinking.

"Jet Star and Kobra Kid as in- the Jet Star and Kobra Kid? From the Fab Four?" He questioned. Immediately after speaking he could feel his face burning in embarrassment for asking what seemed like a stupid question.

Jet Star laughed as Kobra Kid simply smirked, but didn't say anything.

"Ah, yeah that'll be us. Poison always says we're famous in the Zones but I always thought they were bein' dramatic" Jet chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as Riot's eye brightened.

Riot smiled wider, the fact these two were still technically strangers and could still easily kill him if they really wanted immediately gone from his mind as he spoke more. "Are you kiddin'? You guys are the most immortal Killjoy's in all the Zones! I hear about you guys none stop."

Riot missed Kobra Kid's slight eye roll at his fanboying. Kid Crimson and Adrenaline Rat would never shut up about the Fabulous Four, the two were obsessed with the group. They'd tune in into Dr Death Defying's station practically every day to hear updates. Even after Riot was left on his own, every other Zonie he talked to would have something to say about the Fab Four. Sometimes it wasn't good, but the praise always outweighed the bad. Riot's smile dropped slightly at the fact he was sat here conversing with the Killjoys Crimson and Addy had always wanted to meet, while they were rotting six feet under the sand somewhere along Route Guano.

The teen's smile turned sheepish, looking away and deciding the inner surroundings of the Diner were more interesting than embarrassing himself further in front of Jet Star and The Kobra Kid.

"Anyway" Riot continued against his own judgement, deciding he had over stayed his welcome. "Thank you, again. For your hospitality an' stuff. But- I should get going. Sand to see, Dracs to shoot you know how it is" Riot babbled, attempting to push himself up off the plush leather, only to let out a hiss and fall back in pain as his legs and arms flared up with the sudden movement.

"Woah, woah, no way man. You're still injured. You were out for a week and minutes away from death dude. You gotta take it easy. You're gonna rest here until you're fully recovered." Jet Star spoke, gently pushing Riot back into a sitting position when he attempted to get up again.

Riot chewed on his lip, sighing as Jet Star refused to let him get up. He'd already overstayed his welcome when he was unconscious for a week straight, he should've up and left the moment he woke up and realised he wasn't dead. But the fact Kobra Kid was sat on a chair watching him made him think they all had some kind of routine to keep watch, to be there when he did wake up and make sure he didn't do exactly what he had thought about doing. Despite the fact Jet Star and Kobra Kid were Killjoy's he looked up to, he suddenly didn't want to be in the same room as them anymore. They were still people, people his family idolised. Riot couldn't even handle sitting here in front of two of them, and knowing there were two more lurking somewhere sent a cherry pit through Riot's stomach.

Riot was supposed to be dead. None of this was a part of his plan, he wasn't supposed to be saved. He wasn't supposed to be nursed back to health, and he certainly wasn't supposed to be told he had to stay in the Diner until his wounds had fully healed.

Jet Star could practically see the cogs turning in the younger Killjoy's head. He might as well have steam pouring out of his ears at how fast the thoughts were spreading through his head.

"You can't argue with me on this, Radio Riot" Jet spoke, crossing his arms with a light almost teasing grin. "We didn't save your life only to let you leave the moment you woke up. We don't bite, promise."

Riot pursed his lips, eyes furrowing as he thought about Jet's words.

"Well, Kobra might." Jet added with a small laugh.

Even though Riot knew Jet was joking, the sudden statement made Riot jump, staring back at Kobra Kid with wide eyes. Kobra didn't seem to help Jet's joke, only smirking at Riot and gripping the handle of his knife almost threateningly.

Riot chuckled anxiously, hoping it was still some kind of joke before nodding slowly in agreement to Jet's previous claims.

Jet grinned triumphantly before gesturing to the glass of water he had left on the table next to Kobra. "Good. Now, drink that water, you’re dehydrated and malnourished. We'll get you somethin' to eat once your body is used to being awake."

Riot winced, fidgeting with his shirt as he remembered the times he'd go days without food or water simply because he couldn't find any, nor had the carbons to buy them. It wasn't as if basement shows and underground bars often gave out plain water, let alone for free for someone who needed it. Sometimes the bartenders would take pity on Riot's hazed state and give him a helping hand, but they were rare. The desert was a brutal place sometimes, most Zone Neutrals were quite harsh with their supplies. If Riot was lucky he could charm his way into a meal, but those moments were just as rare as the pitying bar goers. Just the idea of having a cool glass of water was enough to almost make him drool.
He didn't say a word as he slowly picked the glass up from the table, taking a hesitant sip.
Riot's eyes widened in relief as the liquid soothed his aching throat. The teen proceeded to down the rest of the water in one go, chugging it down as if it were his last. He smiled sheepishly as he placed the now empty glass back on the table, wiping his chapped lips with the back of his hand. Jet Star smirked knowingly, satisfied he was proven right.

Riot begun taking in his surroundings a little more, analysing the interior of the Diner. It looked like the group had been inhabiting it for a while, upcycling it and making it their permanent home. There was a radio somewhere in the room, making the awkward silence much less awkward. Riot didn't recognise the song, but he was enjoying the beat, and assumed they had Dr Death Defying's listening station on. There was a shattered hole in one of the windows, with a sticky note stuck next to it, words Riot couldn't see written on it. As much as it pained Riot to admit, this place had a homey feel to it. A pit of jealously clawed its way into his chest at the fact the Fab Four seemed to have everything he'd lost, everything he'd spent over a year searching for again but could never recreate.

Just as the thoughts were beginning to fester, another figure caught Riot's seeing eye, his head snapping toward the person who had already clocked the fact he was awake. Riot winced, being reminded of the fact it was the Fab FOUR. He'd already met two of them and made a less than ideal first impression, and now he'd have to interact with more? Riot couldn't remember human interaction being so exhausting.

"Oh rad, he's awake! Want a juice box man?" A black haired teen swayed further into the room and closer to the other three Killjoys. A wide smile was on his face, and two juice boxes in his hands.

Riot's eyes widened, and he thought he was drooling enough at the idea of water, but a juice box? He couldn't remember the last time he'd had one. It'd been such a long time, he figured they'd become contraband and could only be found by paying off Juvie Halls.

The boy laughed at the look on Riot's face, happily sitting on the couch next to Riot, being mindful of where his legs were. The wide smile remained spread across his cheeks as he handed Riot an apple flavoured juice box, keeping the other for himself. Riot watched as he happily sucked on the straw, practically downing the sweet liquid.

Riot held the juice in his hand for a moment, looking over the box for some kind of clue it'd been tampered with. The straw had been unwrapped and shoved into the carton already, but besides that it looked normal. But what if the Killjoy had poisoned it? Why would he so willingly give Riot one of his juice boxes? And with the straw pierced into it? Riot's mind was screaming at him to chuck it across the room, surely it was some kind of trap.

"Yo, dude." The unnamed Killjoy spoke up, tilting his head at Riot's untrusting glare at the juice. "You can drink it y'know. It's not gonna kill you." He laughed.

"Unless you're like, allergic to apple. Then you would die." He added, laughing harder at Riot's taken aback face.

"Don't scare him, Ghoulie" Jet sighed, biting back a smile of his own.

Ghoulie? Riot bit the inside of his cheek, trying to recall the Killjoy's actual name. he didn't think he'd get away with calling this kid Ghoulie like Jet Star was. It took Riot a moment before realising this Killjoy was Fun Ghoul. Which meant the Fab Four's leader was still somewhere in the Diner.

Riot smiled awkwardly at the exchange, bringing the straw to his lips and taking a hesitant sip. He exhaled happily at the sweetness of the apple, it tasted even better than the cold water. With the thought of the drink being spiked gone from his mind, Riot drank the sweet liquid in a few almost desperate gulps, finishing faster than Fun Ghoul.

The three other Killjoy's watched Riot drink, and he could feel them all analysing his movements and composure. He squirmed under their gazes, unable to look any of them in the eye as he placed the empty juice carton down next to the empty glass. Even though Jet Star remained warm and welcoming, there was still an ominous air around him, like the moment Riot stepped out of line, Jet would be on him immediately. It didn't help Kobra Kid's stoic face never dropped, his brown eyes stuck on Riot. The knife in his hand didn't seem so cool anymore.

"So!" Fun Ghoul suddenly broke the silence, causing Riot to jump and stare at the teenager. Ghoul placed his empty juice box on the table next to Riot's before leaning back and staring back at Riot.

"What happened to your eye dude? Looks pretty gnarly." He asked with a light smirk, pointing at Riot's eye patched eye. Unfortunately for Riot, it was a very obvious scar. The eyepatch only hid the burned skin around his eye and the milky white iris that had replaced the green. The scar trailed up his chin and cheek and ended just above his eyebrow, leaving an uneven leathery patch of skin, clearly contrasting from his tanned skin tone. Parts of it branched off slightly, evident from where he'd spend hours picking at the healing skin only to make the scar worse and bleed again.

Riot almost frowned at the blunt question, but his face contorted into one of confusion, baffled on how casual Fun Ghoul was being with him. He opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't muster a single word.

"Dude" Kobra Kid deadpanned, finally turning his eyes away from Riot and staring at Ghoul in disbelief.

"Ghoul you can't just ask someone that" Jet Star sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

Fun Ghoul threw up his arms defensively, missing the way Riot flinched at the sudden movement. "What?! It was a totally innocent question!"

Radio Riot let out an awkward laugh, his hand subconsciously scratching at his eyepatch. It Ghoul's defense, he asked it a lot nicer than most Zone dwellers had previously. Ghoul didn't seem like he was poking fun at Riot, just asking the question in a light hearted manner instead of making the already tense air worse.

"Uh, I just-" The three Killjoy's stopped their bickering and turned back to Riot, who could feel his ears burning at the sudden attention.

"Just- a bad firefight. Almost got ghosted." Riot's voice got quieter as he realised all the attention was now on him, nervously picking at his already chapped and scabbed nails. The skin was already dry enough, torn up skin from the countless other times Riot had picked at his nails and the skin around them covering his hands. But he didn't know what else to do with his hands, needing to direct the anxiety elsewhere.

"Seems like you almost get ghosted a lot" Fun Ghoul snorted, only laughing harder as Jet Star let out another exasperated; "Ghoul!"

Riot couldn't control his own snort of laughter, covering his mouth to hide his giggles. Even his own laughter surprised him, the sound being completely foreign to him. Like it had come from somebody else entirely, and it took Riot a moment to realise the noise had come from him.

Fun Ghoul grinned wider at Riot, gesturing to his laughter. "See! Man doesn't mind!"

Riot only shrugged slightly, his lips twitching in a small smile. It felt nice, being able to smile like that again. Even if it was at his own expense. Somehow, Riot didn't mind. There was something about Fun Ghoul that made it easier to relax. Jet Star and Kobra Kid held a tense air around them at all times, even as they were polite to Riot, there was some kind of barrier keeping them safe from him. Riot knew he wouldn't attack them, but they didn't know that. Of course they were wary of him. But with Fun Ghoul, it was as if he had no filter or sense of danger.

Jet Star rolled his eyes at the two of them, a small smile of his own forcing its way onto his face. Kobra Kid still hadn't said much, but Riot noticed the way he was hiding his smirk better than Jet Star was.

Fun Ghoul couldn't contain his giggling, leaning back against the couch. The gesture made the tension in Riot's shoulders slip away slightly, unable to hold back his own puffs of laughter. Riot couldn't help but feel like he was doing pretty good at the whole 'human interaction' thing now. This was the most he had spoken to someone in months, and it wasn't going to end in him getting so drunk he could barely think.

"Why's everyone laughin' in here? Clearly I'm the funniest- oh! Cool, grass boys up" Came a new voice from the doorway. Riot and the other three Killjoy's heads turned toward the new comer. Kobra Kid, Jet Star and Fun Ghoul already knew who it was, of course.

Riot couldn't stop his eyes widening at the sight of the Fabulous Four's designated leader stood in front of him, a smile on their face and a juice box in hand. Red hair perfectly framing their face, and their signature blue jacket over their shoulders. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing sun kissed skin and a few light scars from previous battles.

Party Poison.

Riot knew who he was, he didn't think there was a single soul in the desert who didn't know who Party Poison was.

"Come say hi to Riot, piss boy!" Ghoul yelled out, waving his hand to gesture Party Poison over. He missed the way Riot flinched at the noise and sudden movement.

Radio Riot could only smile awkwardly as Party Poison made their way over, throwing themselves into a chair next to Kobra Kid and throwing their legs over their brothers lap. Which prompted a glare and a scoff from the other Killjoy, but he made no move to push his brothers legs off him.

"Party Poison. Though, I'm sure you already knew that" Poison addressed Riot, sending a wink in his direction. Riot could feel his face threaten to flush, and was tempted to scoff at Poison's sudden flirtatious nature.

Instead, his smile softened and he nodded. "Really? I thought it was 'piss boy'" Riot replied without thinking, the nickname Fun Ghoul had given Party Poison made him giggle. Before Riot could even comprehend what he said, Fun Ghoul burst into laughter and Kobra Kid snorted, covering up his laughter with his arm.

Party Poison scoffed in mock offence, placing a hand over their chest and sighing loudly, clearly exaggerating his offence. There was a grin on his face, however, a certain twinkle in his eye as he looked back at Riot.

"New kids cocky!" They laughed, clearly not at all phased by Riot's odd comment. Riot chuckled slightly with them, rubbing the back of his neck; glad Poison didn't seem upset or annoyed.

"Riot. My name's Riot" He spoke up in reply.

Party Poison nodded, tilting his head and letting his red hair fall around his face. "Welcome to the Diner grass boy. Jet's already mentioned you ain't leaving until ya fully healed."

"Oh- yeah, I'm sorry-" Riot stumbled, eyes furrowing slightly. They'd already talked about this? Had they all discussed it as a group? That Riot would stay until his injuries were healed, and they were all okay with it happening? Maybe Kobra Kid had argued against it. Riot wasn't the greatest at reading people but even he could tell Kobra wasn't entirely keen on the idea of having another person stay, even if it wasn't permanent.

Fun Ghoul waved his arm dismissively. "Don't apologise Roadkill, it's all good!" He smiled wildly, and Riot noted the small gap in his two front teeth. He chose to ignore the odd new nickname, even if it was quite fitting. Not to mention it could've been a worse nickname, Roadkill would make for a good Killjoy name.

Kobra Kid suddenly pointed his knife in Riot's direction, his eyes darkening as he looked the other boy directly in the eye. "Don't try anythin'. You'll be dusted before you can even think about reaching for your blaster." He threatened.

Riot's eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. "Noted. I'll- uh, I'll keep that in mind."

Kobra nodded, pulling his knife away and going back to fiddling with it.

"Where- where is my blaster, by the way? And my backpack?" Riot asked.

"We took em' off you when we brought you in. It was just a precaution in case you woke up before we noticed and tried to do something." Jet Star spoke up. He'd been silently watching the rest of them interact, and Riot had to pretend he hadn't felt Jet's powerful stare watching his every move.

Riot nodded in understanding. "Yeah, okay. As long as it's here and not back in Zone Two."

It was silent once again, just for a brief moment before a sudden voice spoke up. One that definitely didn't belong to one of the Killjoy's in front of Riot. This one was higher pitched, and sounded much younger.

"Where did you all go? Ghoul promised to read to me!" It called out, a slight whine to it. Whoever it was sounded annoyed their promise had been withheld.

Riot's eye widened again, someone else lived here too? He thought it was just the Fab Four, but it sounded like they had a child with them, someone who hadn't even reached their teens yet. He moved his head, looking past Kobra Kid and Party Poison and directly at the new comer, taken aback at the sight of a little girl walking toward them, a comic book clutched in her little hands. Well now Riot knew why she didn't sound like a teenager, she wasn't one. She looked much younger, maybe even under ten years old.

Her eyes caught sight of Riot and she gasped, rushing over to Jet Star and hiding behind his legs. One hand let go of the comic book, moving to wrap around Jet's legs as if they'd protect her from Riot's stare. She had a mess of frizzy brown hair sticking out in all directions, and what looked like hand me down clothing that still seemed too big for her, a blue sleeveless puffer jacket on top of it all.

Riot tried to smile at her, lifting a bandaged hand to wave and show he wasn't a threat, only for the kid to duck behind Jet Star's legs again.

"I, uh, I didn't know you guys… had a kid?" Riot questioned, looking away from the little girl and up at Jet Star. She looked somewhat similar to Jet, maybe he had a sibling he didn't want the Zones knowing about?

Jet Star chuckled, reaching behind him to ruffle the girls hair. "We took her in when she was a baby. She's under our protection. This is Motor Baby, but we mostly call her the Girl, or kid." He explained. He didn't elaborate on any of his statements, so Riot didn't push. He simply nodded and tried again to wave at the Girl. He took the small curious smile he got back as a win. He could feel her gaze boring into him, analysing his looks and trying to understand who he was, and Riot could feel her eyes lingering on his eyepatch and the scarring around it.

Riot didn't question why they mostly called her the Girl, or kid. But he assumed maybe it was a preference from the kid herself.

"I'll read to ya in a bit kiddo, this is Riot!" Ghoul's grin never seemed to leave his face, creating such an unsuspecting aura around him. Riot didn't know if he felt comforted by that. At least he could somewhat tell how the other Killjoy's were feeling. Kobra Kid was constantly tense, Riot noticed. The knife in Kobra's hand was always at the ready, its blade glinting in the dingy diner lights were almost taunting Riot, practically daring him to step out of place. Jet Star remained standing, looming above the rest of them like a loyal guard dog. His stance was tall and strong, as if sitting down would make him more vulnerable. Riot noted the way one hand remained in his pocket, while the other practically shielded the Girl behind him. Party Poison seemed relaxed at first, but it wasn't hard to tell they were tense too. Their eyes flickered back and forth between Riot and their friends, arms remaining crossed over their chest, and Riot could see the way their foot was bouncing around on Kobra's lap. Riot wasn't exactly brushed up on being able to read people well, but even he could tell the guys were nervous.

The Girl nodded at Ghoul, smiling wider at Riot this time. She trusted the older Killjoy's, they weren't hostile toward Riot, so she seemed to be more open to the idea of knowing him. Riot smiled back in return. He could feel the older brother instincts he thought disappeared with his sister returning, and Riot realised he didn't want this kid to hate him. He didn't want any of them to hate him. He almost frowned at the thought, what happened to leaving as soon as possible? What happened to not caring about who these Killjoy's were and what they thought about him? Yet here he was, deep down wanting a connection with them, wanting them to like him and enjoy his company. He knew why, he knew deep down he longed to have a human connection again, that he missed being in a gang, missed being around people that genuinely cared about him, and who he cared about in return. It'd been over a year since he'd had something like that, and Riot didn't want to accept the fact he wanted that kind of bond with these Killjoy's.

Riot yawned, sudden exhaustion creeping over him. How did that even work? He was knocked out for a whole week, the best sleep he'd had in years, and he was still tired? Maybe it was the fact he was still technically healing injuries that would've killed him otherwise. And being knocked out didn't exactly count as sleep. But Riot chose not to think about the technicalities of it all.

"Alright, you get back to resting Radio Riot. Your body is still dealing with the pain and sudden consciousness. We'll be back to check on you every once in a while to make sure your vitals are still in check." Jet spoke. Riot could only nod, yawning again as Ghoul stood up, allowing Riot to lay back down against the leather. Despite the small alarm bells ringing in his head telling him not to fall asleep again, Riot let his heavy eyes close and quickly fell back into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

The four Killjoy's plus the little girl watched the mysterious boy immediately fall back asleep, soft breaths escaping his nose. His arms lay across his chest, fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt (the shirt that Poison had given up for him to wear when Jet realised the shirt Riot was previously wearing was beyond repair), and his legs were tucked up closer to him, almost curling into a small protective ball.

"You guys recognised that name, right?" Jet Star muttered, eyes trained on Riot's face, his own eyes furrowing as he tried to dig deep in his mind and figure out why Radio Riot felt so familiar. He didn't recognise the face, and Jet Star had a mental file of every face he came across in the desert, just in case things were to turn sideways. Every Killjoy, Runner and Zone Neutral he wasn't friends with were stashed away into the back of his mind, always for just in case. Even though everyone living out in the desert was there for the same reason, the same beliefs, that didn't mean Jet had to trust them right away. The Zones could be brutal sometimes, a lot of Zone rats had a kill or be killed mentality.

"Yeah, yeah. Do we know him from somewhere? Maybe we've met before" Poison spoke up, chewing on their lip.

"No, no. I don't think we've met. But there's something about that name…" Jet shook his head.

Kobra Kid's eyes widened behind his sunglasses as his brain put together the pieces. "Route Guano, two years ago. That firefight D announced over the radio, a clap with multiple Exterminators took out an entire gang of Killjoy's. D never said his name, but it was rumoured he died with 'em, so everyone knew his name for a while. They went down in history for the most brutal firefight the Zones had seen in years."

"Oh shit yeah!" Ghoul sat up, eyes sparkling and grin wide. "Route Guano was a Ghost Town for months after, it was crazy November. I heard the ghosts of that gang haunted the place and dragged any Runner who dared cross their territory down with them!"

The Girl gasped at Ghoul's claim, hiding behind Jet's legs again. Jet sighed, reaching behind him and patting the Girl's curls in the attempt to soothe her.

"Okay the first part was believable, now you're just makin' shit up Ghoulie" Jet rolled his eyes. "Also don't mention that stuff with the kid around, you know she doesn't like that."

"You say that now but I dare you to drive down ole' Guano and see for yourself!" Ghoul beamed mischievously before wincing and smiling apologetically at the Girl, muttering a small "sorry kiddo."

"Wait, so do you guys think this is the actual kid from that clap? That he actually survived and has been living as a ghost this whole time?" Poison asked, eyes flickering between their friends and the sleeping Killjoy on the couch, ignoring Ghoul's haunted claims.

"It'd explain that scar, he said he almost got ghosted. No one gets a scar like that from some small scrap" Kobra shrugged. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes were boring into Radio Riot's face, taking apart every detail of the scarring he could. It didn't look great even healed and with an eyepatch, Kobra could only imagine what it looked like when it happened. It trailed from Riot's chin, up past his eye and ended just above his eyebrow, like a direct blaster shot skimmed his face. Any other angle and it would've killed him immediately.

"Why don't we just ask 'im when he wakes up?" Ghoul asked, tilting his head.

"As if he'd actually give us a proper answer. Kid can barely hold a proper conversation" Kobra scoffed.

"Plus it'd just be rude, Ghoul. You can't exactly go around asking people about their tragic backstories" Jet chimed in. "He's barely known us an hour. Poor kid looks like this is the longest conversation he's had in months."

"He seems nice, though" The Girl piped up, peaking her head from behind Jet's legs and looking up at the other Killjoy's. "Maybe a little awkward but not bad. He has hair like me an' Jet."

Which wasn't entirely far from the truth. Jet and the kid's hair were frizzy afros, always a little untamed from the desert heat. While Riot's hair was on the more curly side, twisting around his face and neck and sticking out in odd directions like he'd never even heard of a hairbrush before. But the Girl seemed to enjoy the solidarity of the three of them having curly hair, so Jet didn't argue against it. He smiled at the Girl instead, ruffling her hair and beaming back at her when she grinned up at him.

"He just needs a bit of guidance getting back on track s'all. He stays here for now so he can heal and we'll see where it goes from there" Poison shrugged, sipping on their juice box.

Kobra frowned at the implications Poison was making. He wanted Radio Riot out of his territory as soon as possible. He didn't mind as much since Riot was there against his will as much as he was there against Kobra's will too. But that didn't mean he had to enjoy Riot being there. He'd argued against letting the teen stay with them to heal, offering to send him to Dr Death Defying or even one of the temporary medical huts that moved locations every day to avoid getting onto BLI's radar. However it was three against one, and Kobra had felt the resentment building up since then. He hated change, and he especially hated when someone new came along and changed everything around him. Kobra Kid had his routine, his group, his family. He had the right people in his life and the right set up, and he hated the fact someone had come along and turned that around. Sure, the fab four had helped fallen Killjoy's before when needed, nursed them back to health. But that was only for at most two days. They had never over stayed their welcome and Kobra had stayed away from them during that time.

But deep down in his chest Kobra Kid knew with Radio Riot it was going to be different. There was something about him that intrigued the other Killjoy's, and Kobra had a feeling Riot was going to stay longer than either of them planned.

Chapter Text

It had only been roughly three days since Radio Riot had awoken from his week-long coma in the diner in Zone Six, and he hated to admit it wasn't as bad as he was expecting. He had truly wanted to hate being there, to hate interacting with the fab four and their adopted child, and to hate living in the furthest Zone in the desert. But he didn't. Riot had a roof over his head, drinking water when he needed it and even food when he was hungry. But being alone for a long time, and once having a younger sister he needed to be looking out for, Riot had grown used to long hungry days. So he never took more than needed, even if he was still hungry, and always had begun sneaking larger portions of his food onto the other Killjoy's piles so they could have more, and not have to worry about having another mouth to feed. He did it most with the Girl though, knowing she was young and still growing, he gave her as much as he could whenever he could, and the sparkle in her eye when she realised she still had more to eat made every growl of Riot's own stomach worth it.

He hoped nobody had realised this little routine of his, though he had a sneaking suspicion Jet Star knew. Jet, Riot had figured out rather early on, was very observant. More observant than any Killjoy Riot had come across. He was like a hawk, watching the Killjoy's movements to make sure they were alive and safe. Somehow, Riot wanted to prove to Jet he wasn't a threat. That he truly wanted what was best for this gang. They were different to the other Zone rats Riot had come across before, and he was beginning to realise why Kid Crimson and Adrenaline Rat liked them so much. They weren't just famous for any old reason, they were genuinely good Killjoy's.

And part of Radio Riot hated that. He hated they were so nice to him, he hated they wanted to heal him, he hated they gave him a place to sleep and used their own supplies on him. Kobra Kid, however, had made it rather obvious he didn't like Riot's presence in the diner. Riot could understand that, though. He was new, he had come in out of nowhere and changed things. He himself didn't even like that, of course Kobra Kid wouldn't either. Regardless, Riot was going to get on his good side one day. Maybe when he left for good they'd meet again one day and talk like old friends. Maybe that'd make the loneliness easier to deal with.

On day four of being in the Diner, Riot was able to walk around properly. Beforehand, he'd needed leverage, something to hold onto or lean on if he wanted to get anywhere. But Jet Star had given him the okay to walk again, but just to be mindful of the bandages on his legs. Riot wondered how many bandages Jet had used on him. Jet was always the one to change Riot's bandages and check on his wounds. He never said anything about the scars on Riot's arms when he checked on the blaster wounds, and for that Riot was thankful. He didn't exactly want to explain why they were there or even what they were. He hated even being reminded of them, and was partially glad there were so many white wraps around his arms, the scarring wasn't as obvious.

When Jet confirmed Riot could walk on his own again, the first thing Riot had asked to do was go to a trading post with one of them. Just something to prove he was useful and worth keeping around. He'd never admit it out loud, but Riot was terrified of what'd happen to him when Jet announced he was completely healed and free to go. Where would he even go? He didn't want to fall back on old habits, he didn't want to spend his nights passed out on the floor of Hyper Thrust surrounded by sticky split drinks and old food again. He couldn't do that, he wouldn't. But he didn't want to ask to stay. He was a stranger in this home, this building wasn't his to inhabit. Riot couldn't even remember the last time he'd been in Zone Six, this whole Zone was a stranger to him.

Radio Riot didn't belong anywhere.

Of course Jet Star had said no when he'd asked to go on supply runs, claiming that while he could walk, his injuries were still at risk of tearing open again. They couldn't risk it, so Riot would simply have to stay back. Party Poison had jokingly said Riot could babysit the kid when they were all out, but Riot had taken it seriously. He knew how to take care of kids, it was something he took pride in. Not to mention he simply loved taking care of them. He vaguely remembered he'd babysit as a part time job for the kids in Battery City when he still lived there, and his parents would get him to baby sit his little sister all the time. Conversing with kids was a lot easier than conversing with people his age. This group of Killjoy's seemed to have it all figured out, too. They had a solid hideout, they had items to trade for whatever they needed, food and water most of the time too. It was as if Riot had been being a Killjoy all wrong.

The first time Riot was tasked with babysitting the Girl didn't turn out like he had thought. She was still skittish around him, which he figured was fair enough. She was starting to warm up to him slightly, she didn't leave the room when he entered like Kobra Kid did. Riot was sure Kobra hated him the most, but Riot couldn't argue against that either. Kobra reminded him of Buzzkill, in a way. Stubborn and rude to most, but not bad once you got on their good side. Though, Riot wasn't sure if Kobra even had a good side. Jet had told him not to take Kobra's insults to heart, it was just how he was. The first time the Girl and Riot had been left alone, the Girl had hidden herself away in Fun Ghoul's claimed bedroom, and didn't come out until the others got back. Riot was a little hurt, of course, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He left snacks by the door and told her they were there if she needed them, and he'd even found some paper and crayons and left them out for her too, in case she got bored. They were all gone every time he had gone to check, so Riot felt he had done good. Jet Star had told him she was only six, so while she was aware of the things around her, she didn't always understand and was often scared and confused when it came to new people, which again Riot found understandable.

On day seven of being in the diner, Riot felt at home. The feeling was distant, it had been a long time since this feeling had settled in his chest, and it was terrifying. He shouldn't be feeling at home, he shouldn't be lying awake daydreaming of how his day with the fabulous Killjoy's was going to be in the morning. He had to keep reminding himself he didn't belong, this wasn't his home, these people weren't his gang and they certainly weren't his family.

But unfortunately he couldn't help himself.

Maybe he wanted to be a little selfish for once, maybe he wanted to enjoy being around people again without expecting some kind of pleasure out of it. He wasn't engaging with them just to feel something, he was engaging because he genuinely enjoyed talking to them all. They were all so different from each other yet they all cared so much about one another, Riot couldn't help but be reminded of the Misfits.

Jet Star and Fun Ghoul made the most effort to talk to Riot, to make him feel included and not as outcasted. Part of him hated that, deep down he'd rather they be mean to him because at least then he wouldn't have gotten so attached. But that wasn't going to happen, it felt like they genuinely enjoyed having Riot around. It was incredibly confusing having Jet and Ghoul include him and be kind, and then have Poison and Kobra be the opposite. Poison wasn't as obvious with it as Kobra was, but Poison didn't go out of their way to include him like Ghoul often did. They did make polite conversation with him though, so Riot took that as a win.

Kobra Kid never started a conversation with Riot, unless it was to demand something of him. That didn't discourage Riot, though. He couldn't control himself, every hour he spent around them all the more he wanted their approval. On the odd occasion Riot was feeling brave, he'd offer a juice box to Kobra, or a piece of candy he'd figured out from Poison he liked. Sometimes he refused, but on a good day he'd accept it and give Riot a small twitch of his lips.

Even though Party Poison was the self-proclaimed leader, Riot could tell it was Jet Star that was the most level headed. He had a threatening aura around him that made Riot not want to question his authority, it was clear he was the voice of reason within the group. The Killjoy's tired dad, essentially. Riot also figured out Jet drew in his free time, and actually let Riot sit down and draw with him. Riot felt like he was earning Socialising Points for making one of the Killjoy's smile or enjoy his company. It got to a point Riot didn't even have to ask to draw with Jet, and Jet would sometimes come up to him and ask if he wanted to sit outside and draw. And Riot hadn't said no once.

A week and a half passed by quicker than Riot ever thought it would. Days had always been painfully long and lonely when he was on his own, watching the sun and sand and hoping tomorrow would be better; numbing his senses with alcohol with the empty promise he'd get sober tomorrow.

Things were so bright in the diner, the lights blinded Riot in the best way possible, and he never wanted to leave that glow ever again. Like a moth to a flame, he was drawn in and couldn't bring himself to fly away. But just because he wanted to stay, doesn't mean the others wanted him to stay too. Riot had no idea if they were even talking about kicking him out or not though, but time was running out. Riot's wounds were almost entirely healed, and he knew by the time they were, he'd be gone.

And he had no idea what the fuck he was going to do once he left.

All he could think about was that spiral he'd been stuck in for the last year. This week and a half spent in the diner was the longest he'd been sober in months, and deep down a part of him was still itching for something to distract him from the world, something to quiet those voices once again. Maybe that'd be the first thing he did once he left, find the closest underground club in Zone Six and charm his way into as many drinks as he body would allow. Despite the warmth in the diner, he still craved a different kind of warmth. He could feel his eyes twitching and fingers shaking with the need to drink.

But another part of Riot, a much larger and more rational part, never wanted to go back to that side of himself again.

He wanted to be sober, to be happy without alcohol in his system, to feel loved without the use of his body. Was that really so bad? He was torn between falling back into his old life because it was something he was used to, and actually working hard to heal and be someone he'd be proud of. Maybe these Killjoy's were the key to that, the push he needed, the sign from the Witch this really is where he was meant to be. Proof his life as a Killjoy wasn't for nothing, a second chance to show the ghosts of his past he could continue the life they couldn't.

Riot had been so lost in his own spiral and overthinking, he hadn't noticed Party Poison leaning over the top of the booth he was sat at, their head resting on their arms and watching Riot with an amused expression.

"Your nails taste good there?" Poison teased, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Riot jumped at the voice, tearing his hand away from his mouth and looking up at Poison with wide eyes. He hadn't even noticed he'd been gnawing at his nails, sheepishly looking down at his hand and noticing his nails were once again chewed down as far as far as they could go. His teeth had also managed to scratch off the pink nail polish that had previously been there, left from when he let the Girl paint his nails. He'd need to ask her to do them again, if he had the time between now and leaving.

"The nail polish was infused with liquid foods, couldn't help myself" Riot shrugged, looking back up at Poison with a grin.

Poison only laughed and shook their head, eyes creasing at Riot's stupid comment.

"Listen" They started. "There's somethin' I wanna talk to you about."

Riot could feel his heart drop into his stomach.

This was it, this was the moment he was going to have to leave. He wasn't entirely healed, but he could walk for long periods of time without much of a strain, and his arms didn't ache every time he raised them. So they must've deemed him well enough to leave. He'd overstayed his welcome, he knew it.

"Oh, uh, sure." Riot stumbled, shifting over so he could look at Poison more comfortably. "Is everythin' okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Nothin's happened if that's what you're worried about. But me an' the others were talkin'…" Poison trailed off, and Riot watched them purse their lips, longing out the conversation far more than needed.

Riot nodded, prompting Poison to continue.

"About you, actually" Poison continued slowly.

Was this dramatic bastard really going to make Riot sit here and suffer more through this eviction? He might as well get up and take his backpack and leave right that second.

"Good things, I hope?" Riot said instead, his smile becoming strained. He could feel beads of sweat stick to his forehead, his heart rising to his throat and dropping down his chest with every breath Poison made.

Poison only smirked at Riot's statement, but didn't say anything in reply, only fuelling Riot's anxieties more. Riot scratched at his palms, needing something to do with his hands otherwise he might actually rip a nail off this time.

"We were thinkin', and decided to ask if you wanted to stay. Become an official member of the Fabulous Killjoy's." Poison finally finished.

Riot opened his mouth, a flurry of apologies on the tip of his tongue, only for every word he'd planned to say fall flat on his teeth, and leave him gasping for air instead.

"You- what?" He stumbled, eyebrows furrowed as his eye searched Poison's face for any hint of deceit.

"Well I remember you said couple days ago you didn't have anywhere to go, no gang lookin' for you. The kiddos like you, an' you managed to soften Kobe's up too. He only insulted you twice while we talked" Poison laughed, staring at Riot with that glint they always had in their eye. Riot doubted they'd even realised how much anxiety Riot had built up in the last five minutes. "You're a tough dude, better than a lotta Runner's we've come across. So we thought we'd make ya official."

Riot couldn't bring himself to reply, mouth open and ready to spit words, but nothing came out. For some reason, despite considering staying a possibility, he never actually thought about what he'd do or say if it actually happened. He'd let the worse thoughts infiltrate his mind more, he was so sure he'd be kicked out, that's all he could think about.

Poison chuckled at Riot's disbelief and silence, reaching over and tapping his chin. "Close your mouth before you start catchin' flies, pretty boy."

As if Riot's disbelief couldn't get worse, he could feel his cheeks burn red, the feeling spreading to his cheeks at the nickname.

"So, what do you say?" Poison prompted. They smile only grew at the fact Riot was so shocked, it was rather cute seeing him at a loss for words over a simple invitation.

"I-" Riot finally got his mouth working, his lips spreading into a grin. "Yeah, I'd love to."

Maybe things wouldn't end so bleak after all. Maybe Radio Riot was getting that second chance he so desperately craved. And he was not about to let this one go, not this time.