gala_apples

Title: You Gotta Roll With Whatever You Know
Characters: Jet Star, Nic Cester, mentions of Killjoy GSF
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 1100
Summary: The hostile climate of the zones gives Jet Star some time to talk to one of the latest batch of zonerunners.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Author’s notes: Set in my Killjoys 'verse 'All Inclusive'. I wanted to write something you'd never get otherwise, so Jet in the Zones!

“Being a zone runner is essentially like being in a homosexual relationship with four guys.”

It’s kind of hard to be surprised at the analogy when Jet Star is a zone runner in a homosexual relationship with three guys. Really, he’s more curious about how it’s only ‘like’, not ‘is’. He answers shortly, hoping to spur him on without begging for details and opening himself to questions. “Yeah?”

“You don’t think?”

Jet doesn’t particularly want to get into his own personal examples. But they’re in Nic’s car, nowhere near where the rest of the Killjoys are squatting. Ghoul might hate everyone that isn’t them -he took Piggyback leaving really hard, he turns off the radio any time Doctor plays Panic!- but he and Party and Kobra understand the importance of building a network of rebels. Not just for trade, but for educating Grace and reinforcing ideals and self-congratulating the hard choices. If he just refuses talk to Nic until they get back to the most recent stronghold, Nic will talk to the rest of DirtySweet when they finally reunite and any progress Party or Kobra have made befriending Cameron or Chris or Mark will be wiped out by his and Ghoul’s rudeness.

“Less essentially. More is.”

“Oh. Huh. How’s that working for you, then?”

“It hasn’t really been long. But it’s good, you know?”

“I thought-”

“What?”

“I heard somewhere Kobra Kid and Party Poison are related? They were probably full of crap though, so-”

“They weren’t.”

“So then-”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s fine.”

“Chris is my brother,” he explains with a shrug. Jet Star nods. He didn’t actually know that, but he can see it. At the very least they look more related than Party and Kobra do.

“So stay with essentially if it bothers you, or bothers him. But if it just bothers Cam or Matt, do it. There will always be rebels, love is a lot rarer.” Nic nods and Jet goes to say something about how it works for them and gets an entire mouthful of sand.

“Shit-blaster!” Or at least Jet thinks that’s what Nic shouts as he reaches for the windshield wiper button. Even at the highest setting they do nothing to clear the mass of orange-brown from the glass; the wind is gale force.

They both go for the handles and start cranking the windows back up as fast as they can. It’s not nearly fast enough, a fact which would have scared Jet a lifetime ago. He doesn’t have a lot of fear these days, so he just keeps his eyes closed and circles the handle again and again. He’s found smothered corpses in cars in the past, thankfully not while Grace has been with him. He’s determined not to be that person. The elements won’t take him down, he’s not that new to the zones. It’ll be SCARECROW or nothing.

The windows make it up before they drown in sand. Jet Star spends the next few minutes spitting, on his knee instead of on the floor of Nic’s car, as a courtesy. His tongue is still gritty when he’s done but there’s nothing he can do about it. The survival items he’s got on him include one recharger pack for his gun, one bottle of water, and sunglasses. The sand is too thick for the sun to be visible, and unless he and Nic have a huge argument about cars vs motorcycles he won’t be shooting an entire gun’s worth of charge. The water is the only relevant thing, and it needs to be rationed. Getting a bad taste out of his mouth isn’t worth it.

“You think they’re okay?” It’s weak of him to ask. According to Mark the dracs were monitoring that section of zone five only a few days ago. It should be a good two days before they come back around. Still, Jet wants reassurance. He’s been conditioned to not like being alone, seclusion tends to mean danger and pain. He doesn’t want to be separate from his family for long. Sandstorms can last hours, sometimes days. It’s way too long.

“They’ve got to be, right? Besides, my boys can handle a gun, your boys can handle a gun, your tiny opposite gender clone can handle a gun-”

“She doesn’t look like me!”

“I know Killjoys don’t preen,” Jet snorts, wondering if Nic has ever seen Party, “but have you seen your hair in a mirror? You’re twins, man.”

“Besides the hair. She’s got Kobra’s chin-”

“Fine, your mutually sired daughter can handle a gun really damn well for a eight year old.”

“Trust me, it was a battle making it happen. I thought Ghoul would punch us all in the face.” That was not a good week. He was even less happy about it than when Paparazzi taught her how to fight. Of course, that was probably because Kobra didn’t tell him she was joining in rather than observing until she already had the fighting lessons, but it was harder to hide Kobra stealing her her very first gun. She wanted it to be orange, she’d asked all six of them if they’d seen any orange paint.

“But it’s good, isn’t it? That if shit went down she could handle herself? Not that I think you’d just abandon her.”

“You have no idea how many people I’d kill to make sure she was okay.” The same goes with the rest of the Killjoys, of course. And he’s pretty fond of Show and Doctor too, and there are a few groups he’d help rescue, or run with, even though that gets complicated. But Grace is different. There are some lengths he might not go to for Party or Kobra or Ghoul. For Grace Jet Star would slaughter every citizen in Battery City. Every person in the world, if there was more world than Battery City.

“But you’re not gonna have to, because they’re fine. I’m sure back at camp Mark’s got shit locked down, and I bet Chris is in his bunny outfit, putting on a show for Grace.”

The laugh that burbles out is genuine, surprisingly. It’s generally hard for people not his family to make him laugh. “Grace is just gonna roll her eyes. He’ll have better luck with Party. Kobra got him this mousekat head, he can seriously wear it for days at a time.”

“I’ll let him know when we get back. Maybe they can play veterinarian.”

Jet Star laughs again and settles back on the seat. He can think of worse people to be stuck in a car during a storm with.