He left Battery City when he was twelve.
There’s this myth spread throughout the desert that the Venom Siblings appeared out of the blue one day, together, and then established dominance against the gangs all in one go. There’s quite a lot of rumours about them, to be honest, but there’s always one common variable; they came together. They left Battery City in their wake as they sprinted across the desert; they bled and sweat together, melding into one as they roasted in the desert sands before being rescued by Dr. D.
It was understandable as to why many thought that. The siblings were practically joined to the hip; if you saw one of them, you’d surely see the other. One follows the other like the way the hands on a clock always follow; they constantly meet and they constantly follow. They’re never far behind.
It wasn’t like that, however.
Contrary to popular belief, Kobra Kid was completely alone when he made his travel through the desert. He had just turned twelve, and without a second glance to his home and no hesitance in his bones, he fled the city in search of a better life. He fled with nothing except the clothes on his back and some canteens of water he managed to snag.
There was nothing to tie him down anymore.
His parents had been taken long before he could even remember who they truly were. Plastic pieces of machines imitated his parents, their eyes glassy and dim, their movements robotic and precisely calculated, their voices not quite human. They were nothing but husks, machines that cared nothing about him despite the words of reassurances and love that said otherwise.
Those plastic imitations would sell him out without a seconds hesitance. He’s seen them do it before, and knows they will do it again.
The only thing that would ever tie him down had been stolen from him two years prior to his escape. The only thing that mattered, the only person that he ever held dear to his heart had been snatched from his fingers, right in front of him. The only person who wasn’t a machine, who wasn’t impassive and apathetic, and who would never sell him out, who showed him colours and ideas and concepts he never would have thought of himself.
They took his brother.
He was ten years old when they took him away. He watched as men in white suits and apathetic eyes wrenched open their front door. His parents explained that they had called in the BLi men to take away his brother. They were going to provide him with the therapy and they medication he so desperately needed. They would fix him right up, and eventually he’d be able to come back.
Kobra didn’t understand what the hell had to be fixed. They told him that his brother was too wild, that surely he must have noticed his violent mood swings, his manic ups and depression downs? Surely he noticed how dangerous he was, to himself and to others, with his imbalanced brain chemistry. But it would get fixed; they’d adjust his dosage to subdue the right chemicals, and he’ll be back to being the perfect BLi civilian.
Kobra Kid watched as they broke down his brother’s door after he refused to let them in. He watched his brother scream and snarl at the men as they grabbed his arms and tried to yank him out of his room. He watched him scratch and writhe and plant his feet on the ground, desperate to fight back and desperate to escape. He watched as they shoved and dragged his brother through the doors, watched as his parents watched in an impassive gaze, smiled plastered on their faces while watching their son get beat in front of them as the men kicked his shins and the back of his legs to get him to to comply.
His brother managed to dig himself into the ground right in front of him, just for a moment. For just a split second, they made direct eye contact. His eyes were wild and crazed and filled to the brim with emotions Kobra couldn’t even begin to decipher. He leaned his head in and whispered in his ear, his breath ghosting his neck in a sensation that Kobra will never forget.
The men shoved his back and he startled foreword. His surprised costed him the already poor chance of winning the fight. They dragged him into a van, and he kicked and screamed the entire time, causing as much of a commotion as he possibly could.
His parents quickly shut the door, and his mother guided him towards the dinner table to get ready to eat. The damage had been dealt, however; there was no way in hell he’d ever forget the terror of watching his brother get taken away, watched him get pushed and shoved and kicked down again and again.
It was that moment that changed his life forever. His resolve to run away had never been stronger.
After his brother had disappeared, Kobra Kid planned and planned. He plotted his escape route, watching the shifts of guards and finding loopholes in their patterns. He checked for weather conditions and supply trucks that came in and out. He watched for the Drac patrols that were deployed on a strict regiment. He looked for patterns and found ways to exploit them.
For two years, the phrase, “Keep running” echoed in his skull. For two years, he tried to keep to his silent promise.
He quit taking the pills when he was eleven. Before, his brother had been trying to get him off the pills, trying to teach him what he saw: emotions, colours, sensations. He tried to show him what it meant to live.
Admittedly, Kobra Kid had a few relapses. It was hard to quit cold turkey, so he tried to ween him off a bit slower. It was still difficult, now that he no longer had a guiding voice to help him with his cravings.
But he did it. He was free from the curse not long after he turned eleven, and a little less than a year later, he made his escape.
He waited that year just in case he might find any information about his brother. He had disappeared without a single sighting, and Kobra Kid couldn’t find any information as to where he was. It sent him in a frenzy for a little while, desperate to find his brother before they managed to steal his light, his colour, his emotions.
He gave up, though it was more like letting go. He had to keep running. It’s what he wanted.
So he did.
He escaped the city with little fanfare, slipping through the guards fingers into the slippery grains of sand. He had whisked himself into a land of sun and heat and cacti.
He learned of the dangers of the desert early on, at school. They had used a fear tactic to keep them from breaching; there was no conceivable way for them to survive out in the heat, under the beating and unforgiving rays of the sun. They would roast to death before they even made it past the first zone.
He hated to admit it, but they had been right. Kobra Kid would have certainly died out there before he reached any inkling of civilization if the Witch hadn’t been so generous to him.
He managed to pass out near the beginning of Route Guano, a major highway that ran through the Zones. Anybody traveling anywhere was likely to take that road to get to wherever they were headed. And with his luck, somebody was driving in the dead of night and nearly ran him over.
The common myth was that Dr. D had seen him from the back of a van, and had forced his chauffeur to stop and pick him up. This wasn’t true in the slightest, because Dr. D wasn’t anywhere near Kobra Kid, and there was only one man in the vehicle that picked him up and saved him from becoming road kill.
The man was Cherri Cola, he learned. He drove a beat up pick up truck, and reminded him of a strange cowboy. He had at first tried to loot his body, but when Kobra Kid began to shift, he realised he wasn’t dealing with a corpse. He offered his hand, and Kobra Kid accepted. What else was he to do?
Thankfully, he trusted the right guy. Cherri Cola was an honest man without a real bad bone in his body. A bit of a pascifist and sometimes a pushover, but a real decent fella.
Cherri gave him a ride to the radio station, and Kobra Kid met Dr. D. Dr. D explained everything to him that Cherri Cola neglected to mention. He gave him details of the Zones, safe places and hiding spots, information about some of the popular zone runners, what a killjoy was, what BLi was really doing out in the desert and what their true intentions were. He gave him a gun, and a job offering; since he had no place to go, why not become one of his messengers?
Show Pony, his other messenger, was out of commission. Apparently, they were working under cover and wouldn’t be free for a very, very long time. Kobra Kid took up the job; what did he have to loose?
For two years, he worked right under Dr. D. He learned all the tricks and trades of killjoys, even became a killjoy himself. He met various people along his journey, though his favourite thus far was Newsagogo, who always greeted him with a tight hug and a happy smile. He also liked this other kid named Jet Star, with who he frequently crossed paths with. The kid was two years his senior and was nothing but friendly. Out here in the desert, where your toughest adversaries weren’t always the sun and Dracs, pleasantries could go a long way.
Kobra Kid earned his name not long after his first mission. He got hungry real easily, and hadn’t developed the taste for Power Pup yet, so often he went snake hunting. The people he was camping with at the time were surprised when he managed to catch a rattlesnake with ease. They nicknamed him the Kobra Kid, who’s tongue was just as venomous as his aim.
When he was fourteen, everything changed.
He was still a messenger for Dr. D, but he was beginning to think about forming his own gang. In the desert, it was imperative for people to form their own groups, to have people to watch your back, to be able to trust others. You can’t trust everyone, and it was important to find the people you can.
He was considering Jet Star, but he wasn’t really sure how to contact him, or if he even wanted to.
Either way, he was itching to move away from Dr. D. The man was wonderful and gave him so much knowledge, but he wanted to be more independent. He’d have to wait a few more months before he’d actually form a crew, however.
In the middle of summer, Show Pony resurfaced. They had been working undercover at the rehabilitation center, trying to rescue some of the killjoys that had been trapped there. Unfortunately, they’d been discovered, and they barely managed to escape with their life.
They came back to Dr. D’s station full of wonderful tales and exaggerated stories. They reminded Kobra a lot of his older brother; their uncanny knack for story telling and their mannerisms. He wondered if this is the person his brother would have grown into.
Eventually, Show Pony took him aside. “You’re the Kobra Kid, right?”
“I heard a lot about you, guess you took my place?” He nodded. Show Pony have him a bright grin. “Well I gotta say, you did pretty damn well, so I got a gift for you. I managed to find them by chance, really, but I think you’ll be real pleased.”
They winked at him and pulled him outside the radio shack. It was the middle of the day, the sun blazing as always. Kobra Kid was a little annoyed with their cryptic message and when he asked why they were outside, they told him to wait. For what?
An hour later, and a van came skidding through the desert sands right towards them. He recognized that van: it belonged to DJ Hot Chimp. He visited her frequently in his time in the desert, and had come to think of her as a friend.
The van parked sloppily in the lot, right in front of the main doors. Kobra sent Pony a wary glance, but Pony was practically vibrating in excitement. Something was up.
Two people stepped out: Cherri Cola and DJ Hot Chimp. Cherri Cola made a beeline for Show Pony, his clunky boots thunking against the dust covered sidewalk the two were standing on. Kobra knew Cherri Cola had gone to Hot Chimp’s club to meet up with Show Pony, and for some reason stuck around even though Show Pony continued on to the station. He wasn’t sure of the details, except that his mission was taking longer than expected.
Hot Chimp was talking to someone in the back of the car. He couldn’t hear her whispered words, and could feel his curiosity piqued. He had to say, this entire set up was rather mysterious.
“What’s going on?”
Cherri Cola, who was known for being straightforward and blunt, simply stated, “You’ll see.” Show Pony was giggling like a madman.
Hot Chimp moved away from the back, and sent Kobra Kid an excited smile. “Boy, do we have a surprise for you, Kid.”
She stood on the sidewalk, next to Show Pony. The two were snickering to themselves, looking dangerously proud. Hot Chimp wasn’t known for giggling, and when she did, trouble always followed. Kobra Kid was more than a little wary.
The slam of a car door snatched his attention away from his friends and back to the mystery. A person, rather short and very thin, crawled out of the back of the van. Their hair was flaming red, bright like neon, and Kobra Kid felt his eyes glued to their thick strands of blood red hair. He himself had died his hair, trying to fiddle around with appearances. He was a bleach blond now, and he was still trying to figure out if he liked it.
The figure hesitated, wringing their hands before finally moving toward them with sluggish steps. Kobra Kid watched as they tossed their hair out of their face, and released an audible gasp at the sight.
He let out an unrestrained scream of joy. His brother startled backwards, surprised by the sound. Kobra Kid didn’t think twice before diving straight for him, excitement flooding his veins. Four years had passed since he had seen his brother, and if he was honest, he had figured him dead. Either dead in the literal sense, or his mind was as wiped as a Dracs.
He jumped onto his brother, practically becoming a koala as he latched on to him. His brother stumbled back from the added weight, and the two collapsed into the sandy ground with raspy grunts and Kobra’s excited squeals. He could hear snickers from his friends behind him, but he didn’t care about looking cool now.
He didn’t dare let go, fearful in that moment that his brother might slip away from under his grip. His fingers found skin and wow, his brother was alive. He could hear his heartbeat, could feel his flesh and bony frame, could hear his breathing and feel his chest rise and fall. He was alive.
He was every bit as colourful as he always wished to be.
Somethings was wrong, though.
He wasn’t hugging him back.
Kobra Kid pushed himself off of his brother, moving his head out from the crook of his neck. He had practically plastered himself on top of him, and was now trying to sit up. He did not release his grip quite yet; his hands were latched around his wrists as he moved, feeling the bounce of his pulse. It was strong and quick.
Their eyes met. His brother stared at him, his face almost hard to read. Kobra remembered how good of an actor he could be, managing to fool his parents into thinking he was on the pills until an uncontrollable mood swing shattered the illusion of emotional uniformity.
But Kobra could read his eyes, even after all these years. His brother had changed, that much was certain; he was thinner, smaller than he remembered. Kobra had always been taller, but now he almost felt like he towered over him. He had so many scars littering his face, a thick chunk of skin missing from one of his cheeks. He could only imagine what the rest of his body looked like.
But his eyes haven’t changed. A bit harsher, a bit more steely, a bit more guarded, but it was him.
And right now, he couldn’t see even a spark of recognition.
Panic settled in his bones, and he tried to ease his thoughts. Maybe he was just misinterpreting something. Maybe he had changed more than he credited him for. Maybe-
“I feel kind of dumb for asking this since you clearly know me, but like, who the hell are you?”
His voice was raspy and sharp. It was higher than he remembered, and a lot thicker. It reminded him of the sound of tires on gravel, a bit husky, a bit hoarse. It wasn’t a bad sound at all; it was a nostalgic lullaby. The words he spoke were the wrong lyrics.
He took a deep breath. This probably wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be. Kobra Kid had grown a lot since he was ten. He looked different, that was all. His brother was unrecognisable for a split second. This was fine.
“It’s me?” Kobra licked his lips. “Your brother.”
His brother squinted at him. “Huh?”
The stranger underneath him glanced around, clearly confused. “I’m not really sure what’s going on, but I think I see why I was dragged out here. Sorry Kid, but I don’t have a brother.”
The silence following was suffocating.
Show Pony’s giggles halted to a stop. Kobra Kid scrambled off the foreigner, feeling something cold unfurl within him. Was it anger? No, it wasn’t hot enough. Was it sorrow? No, it wasn’t sad enough.
He stumbled back, back towards his friends. He could see Hot Chimp’s wide eyes, Cherri Cola’s obvious discomfort, and Show Pony's slack jaw. He could feel their eyes flicker from him to his not brother, back and forth, their gazes piercing.
Slowly, the person before him stood up. He wiped his hands on his tight jeans, brushing off the sand and dirt, though it seemed more habitual that real grooming. He offered his hand.
“My name’s Party Poison. And, uh, I use they/them pronouns.”
Party Poison. Party Poison. Party Poison.
That sounded exactly like a name he would choose. When they were young and dreamed of becoming superheroes, when he would tell stories of two brothers who overcame the drugs and the propaganda and singlehandedly took down the corporation that tried to subdue them and their colours. They would wear masks and capes and have rad code names.
Kobra’s eyes watered. “I’m Kobra Kid.”
Party Poison grinned. “Nice to meet you.”
Show Pony scratched their head. “Hm. Well, this didn’t go as planned.”
Hot Chimp smacked their head. Cherri Cola let out a whistle. Kobra tried to suppress a whimper.
Party Poison seemed completely oblivious. “So? What now?”
“Um, well,” Cherri Cola stuttered. Whatever they planned, it was clearly taking another turn. “I guess we’ll introduce you to the doc...?”
Party’s eyes lit up. “Dr. Death Defying? Shiny. I’ve always thought that madman was pretty milkshake.” They tapped their chin. “Wonder why he took such a special shine to a humble clubber like me?”
Kobra Kid watched as Cherri Cola took their arm and showed them inside. Show Pony lingered, but after a glare from Kobra Kid, they were sent scrambling inside.
Hot Chimp remained by his side. Hot tears began to travel down his cheeks, and he scrubbed at them as casually as he could.
“Was that your brother?” she finally asks.
Kobra Kid’s not even sure, now. It is his brother, it is him. They have the same eyes, same freckles, same smile, same jaw. It is him, except it’s not.
Out of all the situations Kobra Kid’s ever dreamed of, in his nightmares and his fantasies, he’s never thought of this. He never considered the idea that his brother would forget him. Out of all the possibilities, he never ever considered that his brother wouldn’t recognise him.
“I don’t know,” he finally answers, before walking into the station. Hot Chimp follows, and he thinks she knows what he really means. She was always very good about that, reading people.
Dr. D is talking to Party Poison in the recording room. Party has a hard look on their face, guarded and uncertain and displeased. Whatever the doc was saying, it wasn’t something they liked.
Kobra Kid opened the door and walked right in.
“You’ll have to wear a mask,” Dr. D states, not even looking in Kobra Kid’s direction. “I’m sure you understand why?”
“Yeah but...” They tug at the collar of their jacket, sparing a look to Kobra. “It’s just, it feels contradictory to hide myself when the desert life is all about being yourself. A bit... hypocritical?”
“I’m afraid you can not afford that luxury,” Dr. D said. “And it’s through no fault of your own. It would just be dangerous for you to continue to go without a mask. Your alias can only do so much. But someone will recognise your face, they will recognise you as the person that killed their brother, sister, friend, lover. And they will inflict revenge.”
Party remains silent. They brushed their hair out of their face. Kobra’s curiosity spikes. What did this all mean?
What had happened in the four year gap?
(He knew. But he didn’t want it confirmed.)
Dr. D glanced at the Kobra Kid. He gave him a sad smile. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
With that, he wheeled out with practiced grace. Party leaned against the glass wall separating the rest of the group from them. They watched Kobra Kid for a moment.
“Damn, I’m really bad at names.” They flicked their bangs. “What’s your name again?”
Kobra Kid freezes. How to answer that question...? He’s not sure, so he answers with someone else’s.
“Your name...” He whispers his dead brother’s name. It rolls off his tongue after years of disuse. He only gave it to a few people in the desert, once he learned how sacred True Names were. He told it to Cherri and Dr. D in the hopes that they would one day find him should he ever break free. It’s strange, how comforting the name still was, even though it wasn’t his name anymore.
Party Poison stills. They freeze on the spot, their eyes locking into Kobra Kid’s. There’s a flicker within them. They know that name.
“How do you...” They lick their lips. “How do you know that name...?”
“I’m your brother.” With that, Kobra whispers his own name. It’s rather pointless to whisper, really; everyone in this building knows it. But it feels too fragile to shout. It’s a part of him, whether he wants it or not, that’s intertwined with his brother. It’s a part of all the fuzzy memories he has of his older brother, who would sing him illegal tunes and lyrics, who showed him colour, who whispered stories of treason and light. It was something he has associated with gentleness, unlike Kobra Kid, which was sharp and violent.
His true name sparks something inside Party Poison. There’s a flash in their eyes, eyes that Kobra knows better than himself. Eyes that the last time he saw them, they were twisted with pain and hazy with wild ferocity, with desperation and a need to survive.
Party Poison stares at him. There’s a million emotions that flicker across their face, and he knows grief is one of them. His name. They recognised his name. How much do they recognise?
“I know...” Their voice is dry and ragged. It reminds him of when they were dragged out from their home, when they had been screaming themselves raw. “I know that name.”
A silence passes. Kobra Kid waits for more. Party Poison looks like they’re having a killer migraine, scrunching up their face, looking deep in thought.
“When I went through the bleaching process,” Party begins carefully, confirming Kobra’s fear. “I don’t remember much of it. But I remember holding on to one name. Everything else about me I let go, I watched it get erased. But I remember holding on to that name, holding it in my hands and refusing to tell them. My soul got fucking wiped, but not that name.”
Their knees gave out, and Party slipped to the floor. Kobra collapses right next to them, feeling his body vibrate in anticipation and anxiety with each of their words. He wasn’t sure what to make of any of that, and decided to just wait it out.
“That name. That name, I kept that name. I knew it wasn’t mine.” They were staring at their hands, their eyes looking far beyond. “It wasn’t mine. I didn’t even know my name until I broke out, until I found my file. I didn’t keep that name. I kept yours.”
They furiously dug their palms in their eyes. They were crying, and they didn’t want him to see. Kobra remembered nights where he would sneak into their bed, remembered nights where they spent the entire time crying, and desperately trying to hide it from Kobra. They didn’t know why they were crying. They just did.
“I don’t remember you,” Party Poison finally said. They sounded heart broken, and their voice twisted Kobra’s heart. He never wanted to hear that desolation in their voice, ever again.
“That’s okay,” Kobra whispered back. And it was. It really was. Kobra could live with that, so long as Poison stayed by his side. “We’ll just have to make new memories together. This time, you won’t forget them.”
Party blinked, then grabbed him into a fierce hug. Their hugs hadn’t changed; still too tight and too desperate, still longing for contact. Their hands would lock behind his back every time, as if capturing him in a hold, afraid to let go. Four years passed, their memories were gone, and yet they still hugged the same.
Kobra Kid has a watery smile.
They spent the rest of that night catching up. Eventually, the others joined in, and Kobra Kid learned how all the pieces of their stories meshed together. Everything clicked, and he no longer had half the story.
Party Poison tried to start at the beginning, at the very first of their memories. They had been taken away from their home, though they wouldn’t know that until they read their file, and were inducted into a series of medication experiments. Their brain chemistry was abnormal and BLi was desperate to correct them. After a few months of being unable to behaviourally subdue them, they found an alternative route: they bleached them.
Party Poison was wiped clean like a slate. Now they could do whatever they pleased with them, because they had no experiences to tell them that they were wrong. They place them in Draculoid training and they passed with flying colours.
It seemed they had successfully subdued them. Their medication regiment began to work despite their different brain chemistry. Whatever pills they made them pop did the trick, and for three years, Party Poison was their perfect little toy soldier.
They became an exterminator pretty quick. They had perfect aim and seemingly no moral bias. They were blank and cold and calculating, everything BLi wanted from an officer. They trained under Korse, the most feared Scarecrow throughout the zones (Everyone in the room shuddered at the name, because everyone had seen him before. They knew of the slaughters that followed wherever he went, the blood of their siblings that stained his hands).
The day came for them to become an official exterminator. Their medication was adjusted accordingly, to allow them to feel certain emotions that would likely help them in their exploits. However, they made a mistake.
Somewhere, somehow, the pills weren’t adjusted to their brain. The pills that were standard were given to them instead, and so instead of becoming subdued and remaining the perfect soldier, they began to see colour. They began to experience emotions and feelings and unfiltered thoughts.
And that lead to rebellion.
Party Poison weened themself off the pills. They did a bit of research on themselves, trying to understand what was happening. Why didn’t the pills work?
They found their medical file, and eventually found their personal file. Once they found that, everything went to shit. They figured out what their name was, that it wasn’t just the eight digit code they had given them since they first woke up. They learned that they had had a life before all this, that they weren’t born and raised as a soldier, that they had been stolen from their home.
They plotted an escape.
And they made it. They escaped from Battery City, though not without public fanfare. They managed to ruin Korse’s image, and commit a bit of vandalism along the way.
They escaped to the desert, because that’s where all the killjoys were. They remembered meeting the zone dwellers during their time as a Drac and an exterminator, and remembered that they fought against BLi and took in people from the city. They were their last hope.
Unfortunately, they weren’t able to plan for the desert heat. They nearly died along the way, but lucky for them, they passed out not too far from Hot Chimp’s club. Hot Chimp herself found them lying face down in the sand, and managed to drag their near corpse inside.
She saved their life, and offered them a job at her club. They didn’t say exactly what that job was (they were a bit shy, and blushed a bit, before Hot Chimp simply offered the title ‘secretary’, though that obviously wasn’t the case) but it wasn’t entirely hard to guess. Her club was pretty well known for the strippers there, and while Kobra never wanted to think of his brother out there, it made sense. Nothing in the desert was free, and they had always been conventionally attractive. Sometimes you’ve gotta do what you gotta do to survive.
Either way, Party Poison joined the club, and worked there for a bit. They got into a major bar fight with one of the attendants, who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, and who wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. The bastard admittedly did a lot of damage, managing to break Party’s nose. They called them a party poisoning whore, and that’s where Party coined their name and their hair colour, inspired by the trickle of blood from their broken nose.
And then by chance, Cherri Cola made his way to the club to meet up with Show Pony. Cherri Cola recognised them as Kobra Kid’s brother, since they had only just began going by Party Poison, and their real name was still used in the club. Cherri Cola stayed behind, talking to Hot Chimp to reunite the brothers.
Show Pony suggested they surprised them. So Show Pony came back, and Cherri and Chimp managed to convince Party to come with them, for a ‘surprise’.
And then they met.
Kobra Kid is filled with an intense sorrow. For his brother, for the victims of his brother’s lacking mercy, for those in similar positions, for himself. Overwhelmingly, he feels crushed by a wave of anguish.
Party remains chipper, however. Kobra Kid knows they are hiding more, knows that there are details to their story they are covering up. They carry dark secrets within their soul, ones that will sink them like cement blocks in a swimmers pocket if they aren’t careful.
Kobra Kid tried not to take personal offence; back in the city, there were no secrets between them. Anytime he had a nightmare or anxiety or a want, he’d tell his brother. And whenever his brother found out more about the treatments BLi was giving them, when they first expressed a discomfort in their skin (though Kobra didn’t realise it had been dysphoria, didn’t recognise it as a gender problem), and when they had dreams and nightmares of escaping this life, they told him.
But Kobra was a stranger now. Party Poison wanted so desperately to love him, wanted so desperately to be the older brother Kobra had been missing for four years. But they had no commonality between them; their memories were fried. Party Poison didn’t know him.
They could learn to.
The Venom Siblings sure as hell didn’t leave the city together, but the desert brought them together. They may have had a lapse in their time together, a gap where they had to survive on their own, but in the end, they met again.
Party learns about their brother, becoming the older sibling they promised they’d be. It was like slipping into an old glove for them; they did everything right, and often left Kobra with a sense of deja vu as they began to not be strangers, but friends, but brothers. They made memories together, new and colourful ones, ones that Kobra swore to the Witch he would be damned to let them be taken away again.
Kobra Kid’s brother was dead. He had died a long time ago, died at the hands of BLi’s clutches. But in his place came a sibling just as wonderful in their own ways.
Like the hands on the clock, they were destined to meet again and again. Time will try to separate them, but they will always follow and come back to each other. They will follow each other in the adventure of life, to the ends of the earth, through hell, and through death.
Their destiny tied them together.
There isn’t a place they’d rather be at then right beside each other, answering the call of the Witch, answering Her demands to fulfill their destiny.