Keep Running
Your name/crazy internet handle/whatever: Kat
Personal journal: perfect_gold
Email: visions.in.my.head@gmail.com
AIM: SugiKat
Characters in Taxon (if applicable): None
Character name: Party Poison
Genre (TV/books/etc): Concept Album/Audio
Fandom: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys
Birthday (if applicable): Unknown
Canon point: During "Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)" (music video can be seen here); before The Girl is kidnapped by Draculoids and the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W.
Why this Character and Canon point?: Party Poison is at his peak (if not physically, mentally). It's a somewhat ordinary time for him and his group of Killjoys: running from Dracs, interfering with anything BL/ind. does, and Party's in his element. He trusts his Killjoys, he's taking care of The Girl, he's guided by Dr. Death Defying--he's got it all figured out. Or as much as you can while you're a Killjoy. It would be nice to see him face something like Taxon, especially given the parallels to BL/ind.. This way, it'll be easier for me to bring in his full personality and be able to have him something other then the revenge-insistant, deathwish seeking, guild-ridden Killjoy he becomes directly after due to The Girl getting kidnapped.
As for why Party himself, it's pretty simple: It's stated explicitly that his group (and Killjoys in general) aren't heroes. They aren't villains, either, but Party is such a multifaceted character (from what we know, at least, and there's a ton more questions for each answer his twitter or various interviews reveal) I really wanted to give him a shot. I want to see how his slight paranoia and the codependency to his brother would kick in in a world full of things Party's been fighting against most of his life--big corporations, always being watched, that Big Brother feeling that made Party run way with Kobra Kid when they were younger. I want to see if Party's capable of making friends, or if people think he's a terrorist with a weird mask on all the time and an alias to disguise who he really is.
Programmed Possession: His baby, an old, spraypainted clunker of a Trans Am. It's nothing special but it has years of emotional value. It should also be noted that Party Poison's laser gun is with him at all times, being constantly strapped to his thigh in its holster. Considering he sleeps with it under whatever suface he's using for a pillow, I'm wondering if it should be part of the 'you wear it, you bring it' loophole?)
Abilities/Weaknesses: Party Poison is a normal human being. He has no super strength or psychic abilities or anything of the sort, though he does have incredible survival instincts and is more attuned to the environment around him the most. He's also exceptional at gathering and repairing minor but necessary things, as living in a radiation-filled post-apocalyptic world tends to make you think on your feet. Unfortunately, living in a radiation-filled post-apocalyptic world (and traveling all the way out to Zone 06, even with a Rebreather) also has it's down side. Party's immune system is more then a little stressed and worn, causing him to get sick easily (and often seriously if it's not taken care of). Party Poison also has issues stemming from paranoia, most likely due to constantly being on the run and being shot at multiple times a day.
Psychology/Personality: Party Poison watches out for himself and only for himself. Unless you're one of his few trusted friends (and the list is three others, a 9 year old, and a DJ in a wheelchair, so it's doubtful you are) there's a high chance he'll think you're either out to mess with him, going to steal what little supplies he has, or just generally been hired to kill him. He has an unnaturally strong, almost co-dependent bond with his brother, Kobra Kid, ever since they can away from Battery City and BL/ind. to live in the Zones and become Killjoys.
Despite his wary nature and incredible lack of faith in humanity, Party does have a soft spot for children, and will most likely do anything to make sure they're just that; children. He values innocence in others the most, most likely because he's gotten it stripped away the moment he realized that Better Living Industries really lived up to their BL/ind. acronym--they blinded the ignorant masses with drugs to create a perfect utopia.
Party has a distinct hatred for Government, especially large corporations because of his past experience. He is viewed as a terrorist and while he cares about the life of others, he has no problem and little remorse for the Draculoids he kills or the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws he manages to take down. He sees things in black and white and can be quite judgemental and extreme. He's done everything from graffitti along Battery City's walls to making music with his Killjoy friends to oppose the lack of art in Battery City, and if he wasn't one of the biggest thorns in BL/ind.'s side and one of the most sought after (and shot after) Killjoys he probably would be sneaking into Battery City to plant a few bombs here and there.
The thing about Party is that despite the odd phrases and the quiet, reluctant hero bravado, Party Poison is really still just the awkward teenager that ran away from the City all those years ago. He has a big heart and genuinely wants to see change, fighting for what he believes is right, even when others begin to doubt themselves. He's determined, if stubborn, and if you can manage to befriend Party he'll protect you until the end. Party Poison is loyal through and through, but earning his trust will take you quite a long time.
History: Not too much is known about how Party Poison came to be one of the most dangerous Killjoys BL/ind. has ever seen. Their real names unknown, Party Poison and Kobra Kid were teenagers, Kobra just a entering high school and Party 16 years of age when the unknown natural disaster of 2012 caused, in the long and short of it, the end of the world. Better Living Industries, better known as BL/ind., had stood up among the anarchic state of the world. California was in a state of panic, and BL/ind. offered the public the idea that all hope was not lost.
Things were good at first. Things were decent. BL/ind. had always been good at advanced technology, the majority of things now running on electricity, including (but not limited to) ray guns. They'd set up California so there was only the one city, called Battery City, and managed to keep the radiation away from it. The public felt safe from the outside hazards, each Zone numbered, each one furthest away from Battery City's Zone 01 filled with more and more harmful radiation. They were safe, corralled inside the city. There were jobs, there was protection.
Then came the pills.
A simple pill would calm you, would remind you that everything was always alright, that everyone was smiling. The 17 year old Party Poison immediately sensed something was wrong with these mandatory, every-day doses, but trusted in his parents that the medication was necessary. It was Kobra Kid who rejected the medication, claiming it made him ill, it didn't make him feel right. Party, never one to brush off his brother, tried not taking them as well. That was when the both of them realized that Battery City wasn't a safe haven, it was practically a prison. They spent a few weeks listening to rumours--that BL/ind. would quietly make someone 'missing' if they questioned any aspect. That there was no music anymore. No art. Things things that Party and Kobra used to love but somehow 'forgot' about.
Not wanting to risk their parents turning them in to BL/ind., Party and Kobra left in the middle of the night, sneaking off into Zone 02 with just what was on their backs. What they pictured outside was certainly not what was actually there: if BL/ind. was a utopia, the zones outside it were the exact opposite. They barely survived, unable to find proper food or how to survive the intense sandstorms out in the desert. Kobra and Party both refused to go home, however--as shitty as this life was, they'd both rather die then go back to living like a slave.
When Dr. Death Defying found the two it was a miracle--the older, wiser man introduced him to the world of Killjoys. Dr. D himself was a radio DJ, one who broadcasted when Dracs were on the lose, the songs that he managed to dig up in the wasteland. If any particular Killjoy got themselves into trouble or got themselves 'ghosted,' Dr. D would throw it up on what he called the Traffic Report. Less of a father but more of a mentor, Party Poison learned pretty much all there was to know about the harsh reality of the world. Kobra learned how to fight.
Even more hatred towards BL/ind. having been instilled in him, he chose his second name, calling himself Party Poison while his brother--who by this time had been exceptionally good at martial arts--Kobra Kid. Along the way they met other Killjoys, such as Jet Star who had a knack for the medical side of things and Fun Ghoul who was a technological genius. Their group was set in stone, and Party, with natural intuition and a give-'em-hell attitude, somehow became the leader of the rag-tag group of misfits.
On the outskirts of one of the Zones there's a greasy spoon-type restaurant, one that has long since stopped serving food. The letters are worn and most of them are missing, the word 'DINER' turning out to just be 'DIE.' Party immediately found a liking to it and insisted that they use that for their main HQ, as Dr. D was always on the run, never staying too long in one place. He picked up his baby, an old junker of a Trans AM that him and the rest of the Killjoys have spray painted and modified to no existence. Die Diner is their home, yes, but the car is the second, all four of them (and The Girl) prefer the gritty walls and the feeling of constantly being in motion, since they're both metaphorically and physically on the run.
It is unclear where they found The Girl or why she is important to both the Killjoys and BL/ind., but Party followed Dr. D's advice to a T, taking the girl under his wing and making sure his group protects her no matter what. Asides from the normal rebelling and anti-BL/ind. sentiment Party's Killjoys spew (and actively pursue to end); because of The Girl the Draculoids have recently picked up the heat, leaving him more on edge than ever.
Arrival Post (Third Person):
Party Poison is standing there with his eyes closed, swaying slightly as he seems to not realize where he is yet. His yellow mask is pushed up into a mess of bright red hair and he he sways to the side, dangerously teetering to the side, he opens his eyes.
Unfortunately, he doesn't catch himself in time and he falls from his dead weight, though something seemingly catches his eye as he rolled to fall onto his back. In a split second as he is falling he pulls out a battered yellow laser gun, chipped with years of wear and love, aiming straight for the apparatus that has transported him here. Party's chest heaves up and down as adrenaline courses through him, trying to assess the situation. A hand quickly goes down to his mask once he realizes that in a room as advanced as this and given the situation (or lack thereof), he's positive he's being monitored and doesn't want BLI/ind. to see his face any more then they already have.
"What... No, Where?" He lets himself trail off because he doesn't like to talk in the first place--and in cases like this, judging from the quick glances behind him and around him, he's used to something as simple as 'what' getting you ambushed.
Realizing the thing above him is no threat, he stands up, hazel eyes darting to the strange things, the technology. They briefly rest on a tablet, almost an old-school cellphone-looking thing, but he looks at the door, far more concerned with the exit.
"This isn't BL/ind." It's a statement, and Party Poison's facial features lift up in a brief moment of disgust as he turns and looks around, examining things more closely. Dipping low, he hears a slight clink of the blue buddha bead bracelet he keeps constantly wrapped around his right arm, and he looks down to gasp slightly as he notices the bracelet around his arm, immediately trying to tug it off. His back naturally finds a flat surface, a survival instinct that's been drilled into him since he was younger.
"The fuck is this piece of--" He cuts himself off because he simply can't remove it, though his other hand moves to the holster on his thigh, contemplating trying to shoot it off. He shakes his head decidedly and scans the area a few more times before taking notice of the door again, moving towards it, tapping it.
"C'mon," he mumbles, letting his index finger tap against the strange metal. Party's jaw sets, trying to figure out a way to clear the obstacle. "What are you and where am I?" He asks, briefly hoping it will answer. It doesn't, and, frustrated, he backs away and kicks at the door, grunting as, of course, it doesn't budge. After a few more efforts he lets out a small growl of annoyance, finally pulling out his gun. He backs up and he hits something--a table--but thinks nothing of it, instead shooting at the door, trying to concentrate his fire to where he guesses were the hinges, if there even is any.
Nothing.
"Goddamn piece of shit!" Party looks rather at a loss, because he is stuck in a room he doesn't know in a place he doesn't know and he's not stupid enough to destroy the consoles simply because something bad might happen. He sits on the ground, tailor-style, and runs a hand through his hair, looking off to the side as he tries not to panic. Who knew where the other Killjoys were?
Party grits his teeth, gaze unfocused and refocusing absently as he let himself try to think, swaying much like he was doing upon his arrival. He finally throws up his hands, at a loss, and when he touches the ground before him he feels his hands on something odd. A rectangular device, something that must have fallen from the table-like thing he was currently leaning against.
Frowning, Party Poison picks it up and tries to figure out what, exactly, it is.
Additional Third Person Sample: ((Note: The Girl's real name is suspected to be Grace. If this post is inadequate since it's technically two characters I'm controlling, I'll be more then willing to rewrite it!))
Zone 4 was hot, but not as hot as the other zones further back and Party Poison found himself enjoying the silence, the odd little things like that pleasing him the most. Normally he had music in the busted, beaten old muscle car stolen and repaired and re-repaired and re-re-re-repaired because Fun Ghoul can't keep his fucking Frankenstein paws off of it.
But Party is a Motorbaby at heart and he knows this, and he also knows Dr. Death Defying will always play a certain song on the station that they pick up on Grace's brightly coloured boom box just for him, and he'll always dedicate it to 'the poisonous SOB that's out terrorizin' blind like it's going outta style.'
"Party?"
Graces voice pulled Party out of a particularily thoughtful lull, and he blinked behind his yellow mask, craning around to look at Grace. The curly-haired 9 year old looked up from the back of the seat as they moved along old desert highway, and Party spared a glance back because for some reason she almost always refused to sit in the front.
"What's up?"
"You're being weird," she announced.
Party chuckled. "And you're being a goofball, goofball."
"I'm not a goofball, you're a goofball!"
Party chuckled and Grace laughed--and Party missed when he could laugh--and he noticed the curly haired girl staring at the letter that said 'mom'. "Will she get this?"
"Who?"
"Mommy?"
Party didn't answer. And that was alright with Grace, because she was a lot tougher then any other 8 year old. After all, this was California, 2019.
They'd just moved past Zone 3--and Party made a show of showing that his weapon's safety was on, even slowing down when he spotted one of the ladies, and by the time they reached Zone 2 to deliver the letter he could tell the sun was going to set.
"We have to get you home, little Crash Queen."
"Sure thing, Party. But--But just a second."
Party waited on the hood of his car as Grace held the envelope in both her hands, looking down at it. Whispering. Praying to it, before putting it in the only mailbox in any of the Zones. It was decorated, colourful, and Dr. D's minion would be around there on rollerskates, dancing around to help deliver the mail to Killjoys who moved in and out of Battery City with ease. Party was not one of them.
Party was one of their top priorities.
"Are you going to Zone 06?"
But Party didn't answer, instead driving back, back. The heat seemed to get thicker, though it wasn't technically heat--it was smog. It was radiation, sheets of it, and he glanced at Grace who was happily humming the latest song Dr. D had unearthed from the wreckage--something by David Bowie or something like that--and they drove to the tune of Suffragette City, or at least Grace singing 'hey man, oh don't you leave me alone' for a while until something caused Party to slam on the breaks and swing the busted up, once-white, graffitti'd car swerving from the place. There was Drac in the middle of the highway, standing there, looking completely dazed and unlike anything he'd seen and since when did people just stand in the middle of the road when Party was hitting the gas and hitting the gas hard?!
Grace had her hands over her small ears, still screaming even after the car came to a halt. Reflexes kicked in, and in a split second Party had his gun out.