Work Text:
Poison grins, feral and broken.
Ghoul loves that grin, the way it cuts through the blood smeared across Poison's face.
Route Guano had been a hot mess of ghosted Dracs; Jet and Kobra hadn't gone down easy. Ghoul bet that next life, they'd listen to him when he said that it was a fucking trap. Told you so, he'd say.
Poison puts the last boomer into his knapsack and zips it up. "You ready?"
He checks the powerpack on his raygun before nodding. "Five by." Ghoul grabs his own canvas bag and slings it over his shoulder. They've got boomers, they've got 'ganda, they've got comphacks. "Let's do this."
Bat City was going down tonight.
-fin-