☢┋EXTERMINATED.

Wire rubbed his face, shaking his head slowly. “At least this… This way, I can still walk ‘round and see.” He mumbled, shrugging. “I don’ wanna die, fully. So, this ‘elps. Numb–Numbs it. All th’bullshit. Makes it easier.”

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Wire would feel bad for messing up Kobra’s shirt later, but right now, the only thing he really felt was pain and sick. He slowly laid back in the sad, taking quick, shallow breaths; god knew that that wasn’t helping his stomach.

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and with that, the killjoy leaned close to the one lying down, buckling his arms underneath wire’s knees and chest and slowly lifting the body off the ground. kobra didn’t start moving instantly, but stood in his position, getting used to the weight once again.

Oliver was no Killjoy, but he survived and helped them all out the best he could, he didn’t really involve himself in any groups or anything like that. Being a werewolf was a pain in the ass that way. The Brit probably sounded foreign to the slender male he spoke to–with his accent and all. He ran a hand through his black hair and sighed;

he’s definitely not from here. it’s pretty obvious ––– the accent doesn’t fit in the desert, and the stranger probably had no clue who the fabulous killjoys were. it’ll be harder for him to find the other three, however, since there’s other zonehoppers who decided that they’re cool if they mimic their idols’ styles.

Wire, at the moment, finally seemed to be thinking of something other than his next fix. He even gave a little whimper as he sat back on his haunches, making sure Kobra’s leg looked alright before he put everything back in the kit. “I got mad– I got mad, I shouldn’t’a shot you, I-I wasn’t– I didn’t think– I don’t think ‘fore I shoot–” But now, he seemed to only be muttering it to himself; he’d just shot at the one person that gave enough of a fuck to stick with him and put up with all his bullshit.

He stood, disappearing into the next room to put the first aid kit back ,returning with what seemed to be the only clean article of clothing in the entire fucking desert; neon purple sweatpants. “P-Put these on.” He whispered, voice cracking.

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kobra didn’t catch wire’s mutters, and hence stayed on the ground, sitting fully up straight with a bandage wrapped around his left thigh. his soaked jeans was placed to the side, and now, he’s just on the floor, resting his injured thigh. his eyes gazed at wire, who seemed to disappear into another room, before fixating on the bandage again. at least he knows how to aid, otherwise kobra would have never been able to feel his left leg again. 

Wire seemed more upset with himself than anything, eyebrows furrowed as he pressed a gauze pad to the wound, before wrapping it with more gauze and a layer of tensor bandage. He held it in place with one hand, while his other hand rummaged through the box until he produced two silver medical fastenings, clipping the tensor in place.

“I-I– I didn’t mean to shoot you– I got mad, I didn’t think–” His words were coming out at a thousand miles an hour, causing him to stumble over his own words constantly.

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releasing more weak cries by each apply of the equipment, he remained in his supporting position, still focusing on his wound. this whole thing, it was somehow half of kobra’s own fault- it’s probably a bad idea to go teasing another person who’s in a bad mood. but he didn’t know his circumstance was getting injured- holy shit wire, you need to breathe for once.

Wire groaned when he saw Kobra struggling, and when Kobra quit fighting with them, he yanked them down the rest of the way. He’d have to bring out the one pair of pants he tried to keep clean after this; an old pair of purple sweats. Kobra’s jeans were too filthy.

He brought out a beat-up bottle of disinfectant, gently lifting Kobra’s knee so his leg bent enough for Wire to work. Holding a bleached cloth just under the wound, Wire poured a little bit of the disinfectant over the graze. “I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’–fuckin’ sorry, I’m so sorry–”  He kept muttering the words over and over again, like a mantra.

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there’s no time for kobra to remain fully mad at wire, because of a fucking wound that’s still open. another pained growl escaped from his mouth when his leg was gently lifted, his two dirty hands balling into tight fists next to him. resisting the horrible sting as the disinfectant landed on the graze, his eyebrows remained frowning and one of his eyes barely opened to look at the injury. 

Let’s just be glad that Wire actually knew what the fuck to do with first aid; it was mandatory training as the kid of two BLI agents, and he’d had training that could rival a rookie nurse.

He nodded quickly, stumbling over his own feet as he ran for the beat-up old first aid kit. When he returned, he dropped down beside Kobra, yanking open the kit. He quickly, but carefully, pried Kobra’s hands away, frowning as he examined the wound. “You’re gonna have to take y’jeans off so I can clean a-and wrap it.” He mumbled voice cracking a couple of times. He felt terrible.

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That was probably one of the worst things to do; instead of making him feel better, Wire saw it as unadulterated mockery. He grit his teeth, letting out a low, hissing growl, his hands curling into fists; then, he finally seemed to come completely unhinged. “Shut up!” He shrieked.

In the same moment, his hand flew to his hip, yanking his gun out and firing two sequential shots, very, very narrowly missing Kobra’s leg; in fact, the shot was so close, that one of the rays skirted across Kobra’s left thigh, while the other slammed into the door, leaving a dark singe in the old metal.

And almost immediately, Wire dropped his gun, his expression falling from rage and transforming into pure guilt.

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maybe he should have carried the box with him.

a loud “AAAAHH!!” pierced through the air as the blonde collapsed to the floor, not expecting what had happened. lying still on the floor, he hissed from the pain in his left thigh, and he looked down to see blood surrounding a bullet wound, not too big, on his jeans. leaning in, he covered the wound, trying to stop it from bleeding too much. he wouldn’t care if he almost got his genitals shot off- he’s really damn pissed for the shitty action.

teeth grinding together and eyes pressed shut, the killjoy shivered and tried not to move too much, resisting not to spit too many cusses out in the open air.

“Apparently y’do!” Wire spat, gritting his teeth. He’d never looked more furious in his life; he could snap at any second. “Y’er so fuckin’ stupid, for fuck’s sakes! Don’t be suck a fuckin’ kiss-ass!”

With that he turned, stalking inside; but he was still fuming.

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a mumbled growl emerged from kobra’s lips as he turned away to place the box next to him. finally, the blonde proceeded to stroll to steamy wire’s sight, an unamused look on his face.

❝ ya’ sad, wiry? like, come on, kid. it’s jus’ an accident. ❞ puckering his lips, kobra decided to tease him a little, maybe make him feel better? a high-pitched voiced was heard afterwards, imitating a mocking voice.