“What, doncha know who we are?” the redhead asked, smirking. He tossed his head, flicking hair out of his eye. “Well shit, I’m Party Poison,” he said, placing a hand on his chest, “also known as the eye candy of the group.”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, resting his hand on his hip. “That motherfucker with the badass helmet is Kobra Kid.” The individual indicated wordlessly raised a hand in acknowledgment.
“The short angry one is Fun Ghoul--” a muffled “fuck you” was heard in the background-- “and the crazy fool wearing black in the middle of the desert is none other than the incredible Jet Star.” A single nod.
“So now you know all of our names, though honestly I’m just amazed you didn’t know them before,” Party Poison finished. He was still grinning like a Cheshire cat, but a hard light suddenly glinted in his eyes, and his fingers brushed across the handle of his raygun. “Now how ‘bout ya tell us something about yourself?”