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Crackling and static-y, the busted up radio sputters to life in the corner. Hearing it, Kobra stands from his position colouring with The Girl.
"Hold on just a sec kiddo."
She momentarily looks up and nods before going back to quietly scribbling away.
Crossing the room, Kobra picks up the radio and leans into it. Immediately, a familiar voice hisses in his ears.
"Hey any-" the radio cuts out "-there?"
Kobra's eyes widen. Cherri.
"Kobra Kid. Hearin' you loud 'n clear"
No response. His brow tightens with worry.
"Cher?"
"Ko-" Cherri coughs "Kobra! Hey uh, bit of- bit of A situation out here."
At that, The Girl looks up from her spot on the floor and cocks her head. Witch, damn that kid for being so aware.
"Where are you? What's happening?"
“Fire- firefight” Cherri chokes out, pausing to cough “buncha dracs an’ a damn scarecrow. Hit-” another cough “hit me pretty bad. Could really use some help out here Kobes!”
The radio noise fizzles and Kobra’s eyes widen further in panic. He has to get out there, and as soon as possible by the sounds of things.
“What’s your location? I’ll be there as soon as I can. Hang on out there, ‘kay?”
***
Cherri’s location acquired, Kobra can’t leave the diner fast enough. But first, Girlie. He obviously can’t take her with him, witch no, and he really hasn’t got the time to drop her at Dr D’s. Mulling over his options, Kobra draws the only conclusion he can.
With Jet on a much needed supply run (seriously, the few cans left in their cupboard were rank, even for PowerPup) Party and Ghoul remain the only option.
Not a problem, not at all, but still, Kobra feels bad. It’s supposed to be Pois’ chance for a break today, some time to unwind with their boyfriend. Kobra’s noticed how stressed they’ve been lately.
But desperate times call for desperate measures.
So Kobra beckons to Motorbaby, allowing the hand of hers not clutching crayons to latch onto his and leads her down the hall to Poison’s room.
***
A muffled conversation reaches Kobra’s ears, becoming clearer as his sibling’s room draws nearer.
“Goddamnit Ghoul, hold still!” Definitely Poison
“It’s not my fault you’re taking forever!” Is the response. Ghoul then.
As he leans to knock, a thought dawns on Kobra. Are they- Words slip from beneath the door again.
“Look, d’you want me to do this or not?”
“Okay, oka-”
Are they seriously- Before thinking better, Kobra swings the door open, loudly making his presence known. And his thoughts, with an exclaimed:
“Are you guys seriously-”
Kobra pauses, as do the occupants of the room. Party looks up from Ghoul’s face, where they seem to be carefully applying a swirl of green under the latter’s eye, and stares bewilderedly at their brother.
“Seriously what?”
At that Ghoul decides to chime in, a truly shit-eating grin adorning their face. “Yeah Kobes, what?”
Stammering slightly, Kobra chokes out an embarrassed “Uh nothing, nothing.”
At that, his sibling hums, returning to their work. “Did ya need somethin’?”
Remembering why he’d even come here to begin with, Kobra nods, rattling off his need to retrieve Cherri and his current babysitting predicament. With a few more exchanged reassurances, Kobra leaves The Girl in the safety of Poison’s room and strides back through the diner.
With the promise of his safety to his sibling still heavy on his tongue, Kobra snatches up his bike helmet and immediately heads for his bike.
Time to, in Party’s words, ‘Go get his boy’.
***
Revving up his bike, Kobra recites Cherri’s coordinates over in his head. Thankfully, the other man wasn’t located too far away, having retreated to the old skate park out in zone 3. Small mercies.
Just as the skate park comes into view, Kobra becomes aware of the distant yet distinctive noise of ray guns firing. Gritting his teeth, he accelerates.
Witch damn him if the Crow and Dracs got to Cherri before him.
Seconds later, Kobra squeezes the brakes of his motorbike. It skids to a halt, disturbing sand and grit. He vaults himself from his seated position, unholstering his ray gun before beginning a fast paced creep towards the ramps ahead.
Behind his dark shades, Kobra’s eyes dart side to side, carefully watching for movement.
Pressing himself against the flat concrete of the back of the outermost ramp of the skate park, Kobra takes a deep breath. Hovers his finger over his ray gun trigger.
And emerges from his hiding space.
Almost immediately, he’s met by the mauled, plastic-like faces of several draculoids. Dodging their blasts, Kobra fires his own, swearing under his breath. No Cherri in sight.
And no Scarecrow. Several rather unpleasant conclusions are almost immediately drawn from Kobra’s mind, before he quickly shuts them down. That damn Crow is here somewhere, probably with Cherri
Who is hopefully still alive. Still fighting.
Kobra fires a few more shots, barrelling past flailing draculoids, before darting behind another ramp. His own quiet breathing clouds his ears. Think Kobra, think. They’re here somewhere.
“Well, well, well.”
A harsh, triumphant voice pulls Kobra from his thoughts. A voice that is certainly not Cherri’s.
Scarecrow.
Kobra inhales sharply. Waits for the voice again, edging forward, ready to follow it.
“Got you now ‘joy.”
It’s near, painfully near, and its words only confirm Cherri’s presence. Kobra takes a few more steps forward and peers around the ramp corner.
Surely enough, merely a few feet in front of him, Kobra spots a tall figure, shrouded in grey, towering over a crumpled mass. Cherri.
Squinting, Kobra gives Cherri a once over. He can certainly see blood, but it takes him a moment to pinpoint where. Cherri’s upper thigh is soaked, crimson red spreading rapidly as he clutches it with a bloodied hand.
Kobra needs a plan. And he needs one now.
Curving his hand around the concrete block concealing him from view, Kobra carefully aims his blaster. A shot, right in the crow’s back, if not to injure, to distract.
To provide Kobra with the upperhand, even if it's only brief. All he needs is seconds, just enough to pull Cherri away. Anything that comes after can wait.
Laser focused, Kobra steadies himself. And pulls the trigger.
An infuriated scream sounds from the scarecrow, who whips his head round, ray gun no longer pointed at a panting Cherri.
It’s exactly what Kobra needs, striding quickly to the opposite corner of the ramp and from behind it. His legs pick up pace, carrying him over to Cherri, putting him between the wounded man and the no-longer distracted scarecrow.
Eyelids heavy and words slurring, Cherri still manages to gaze up at Kobra, relief evident on his face.
“Hey Kid.”
Kobra can barely utter the response of “Hey Cher.” before his attention is snapped back to the situation at hand.
Turning, Kobra stares head on, meeting cold, flinty eyes.
“Move.” He hisses to Cherri “Behind a ramp, anywhere. Move.”
Gritting his teeth and clutching his leg, Cherri staggers upwards, heeding Kobra’s request. All the while, Kobra stares, finger on the trigger of his blaster, pointing it forward.
The figure in front of him mirrors his stance.
For a moment, the desert is silent. Silent in hatred, in rebellion, in the looming question of who will shoot first.
And then it all explodes.
Kobra fires first, by milliseconds, immediately turning away, though careful to dodge the oncoming attack, and yanking Cherri up. Wrapping an arm around the brunette’s waist, Kobra urges them forward.
Half dragging Cherri, Kobra continues to shoot, head turned behind him, shots firing rapidly between both parties.
Until finally, finally the crow is no longer in range, having made no attempt to follow them. Odd, Kobra will think later. For now he has more important things on his mind.
Cramming his helmet over his head, Kobra hoists him and Cherri onto the seat of his motorbike, Cherri leaning heavily against Kobra’s back.
The latter reaches over and taps the other slightly roughly on the face.
“C’mon Cher, stay awake yeah? ‘M gonna get you back to the diner, ‘s all gonna be fine, promise.” Kobra’s words are soft yet frantic.
Groaning slightly, Cherri’s eyes flicker open and he gives a weak nod, Keeping one hand pressed to his wound, Cherri winds the other around Kobra’s thin waist, clinging on tightly.
The blonde squeezes his hand and briefly brushes his hair back.
As the bike rumbles, beginning to propel them forward, Cherri mumbles "Knew you'd come."
The sentence just reaches Kobra’s ears, before being lost to the wind.
The bike speeds over sand dunes, carrying with it Kobra’s response of “Always.”
***
The drive back to the diner goes fast, but not fast enough. Not for Kobra, not for Cherri and certainly not for that leg wound, still seeping maroon.
Slinging Cherri’s arm across his shoulder, it’s Kobra’s turn to wrap his arm around Cherri’s waist, who grunts in pain. Dragging the two of them forward, Kobra kicks open the door to the diner.
“POISON?!”