The Woman Who Held A Gun To The Rebel Leader's Head

Party Poison had gotten himself stuck in some pretty funky situations. Stranded out in the desert by himself? Yup. A bad incident with a few hookers in the whore house? Multiple times. Hell, he had run-ins with Dracs every fucking day. But this? This was new.

For once, Poison was down on his knees in a surrender. After he ran out into the desert, surrender was never something he did. It was forgotten along with any memories of life before the Helium Wars. But here he was, kneeling in the sand, hands behind his head in an act of surrender. And his captor, the one who was holding the lone Killjoy hostage? A silent Crash Queen who held not just her's, but his own gun pointed at his head. Some way, some how, she had completely disarmed him and knocked him to the sand. She gave him a sly smirk, her identity hidden behind her eye mask and a mess of jet black hair, as Poison looked up at her through his own mask.

"What the fucking hell?" he asked. The woman chuckled.
"Well, well, well, I'd never think I'd find you out here alone out here. Whatcha doing, wandering alone?" she asked, stepping forward.
"How the hell do you know who I am?"
"How could I not, Poison? Who doesn't know who you are out here?"
"Well, then who are you?"
"That," she replied, "is a secret."
"Well, why are you so insistent on holding me captive?"
"I'm looking for someone."
"Aren't we all?" Poison asked, his voice soaked with sarcasm.
"Hush it. I could easily ghost you right here and now. One shot to the head."
"You're vicious."
"Thank you, I try."

Poison shuffled, adjusting himself and wincing at the pain of his legs falling asleep.

"Can I please stand up? I can't feel my legs."
"No."
"Bitch."
"Again, I try."
"Look," Poison groaned, rolling his head back, "If I help you find this 'person', will you let me go home? I have a family."
"A family?" she asked. She took a few steps forward, leaning down close to him, "How cute."
"It's something  you wouldn't understand."
"Something I wouldn't understand?" The female laughed harshly, continuing, "Hun, I know what family is. It's the reason I'm out here in the first place. I'm trying to pull together the shambles of my family."
"Good luck with that."
"You're saying that just to spite me."
"No, no, I'm saying that with the most feeling I can muster right now. Kind of hard to muster any sympathy towards you right now, but I'm trying."
"Whatever. You're no fucking help. I should just leave you."

Poison glanced nervously back and forth, trying to hide his slight nervousness. He honestly wasn't quite sure where he was. He would die before he could find his way back if the stranger left him out here. He had been set-up. His choices were to either obey this woman or die. And Poison certainly didn't want to die quite yet.

"Well, if I'm going to be helping you, at least, tell me your name. I'm Party Poison, who are you?"
"As I said before, I'm not telling."
"Fine. I'm calling you Midnight?"
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, really. Look at you."

Poison took the moment to actually study her appearance. She had a certain vibe about her; a familiar vibe to be exact, as if he had seen her somewhere before. Knowing his travels, he probably did. But this was more than that. He felt like he should know who she was, but her appearance just wasn't ringing a bell. But her appearance was the embodiment of the word 'midnight'. She was dressed in black, black skinnies, black boots, a black zip-up hoodie. Splats of neon paint gave a bit of a contrast and Poison could see that her gun was painted a bright neon purple and green. Her mask matched her gun, creating a neon-punk look. She was truly a sight to behold.

"Well, you're not too far from the name, so I'll give you points for that. Alright, Poison."
"Alright, Midnight. Can I have my gun back?"
"Nah," she replied, tucking his gun into her holster, while retaining a steady grip on her own, "I don't want you trying anything. But I can give you these."