Chapter Text
To your dismay, you never really got to enjoy the party.
After he stood up from his spot, Follo lingered by the doorway, lips parted slightly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words never came. He left shortly after, only offering a neutral nod before he shut the door behind him. Suddenly, the room felt a whole lot colder than it used to.
Your eyes flickered over toward the bedside table.
“Well.”
He had left a tray on the table beside you, though you had been too distracted to notice what it was. On the tray was a plate with two slices of pizza and a metal mug filled with what seemed like fizzy pop. You inched closer to the tray, examining it closely. It was cheese pizza with gooey mozzarella, savoury tomato sauce and a few leaves of what you found out was basil. You took a bite, your shoulders dropping as soon as the pizza melted in your mouth. The first bite was thrilling. After all, it was your first taste of pizza in over a month. Though something felt different about it.
The second bite was almost as good, the third was alright, but by the fourth you dropped the slice back on its plate.
It was the good grub you had been raving about. It was everything you had wished for during your time in the Ground, but it didn’t taste nearly as good anymore. The sound of the air conditioning unit hummed in the background. Your breathing was slow. You could hear your heartbeat clearly. There was nothing to distract you from your overwhelming loneliness.
For the past month and a half, you and Follo had become close. It wasn’t to say he was your best friend now, but he was certainly close to it. Although it wasn't a choice to spend time with him at first, somewhere between shared conversations and doing physical labor together, friendship had bloomed. During those moments, he’d talked a lot. He talked about growing up and the fears of leaving teenagehood behind, a sentiment you understood all too well. He’d talked about his town, his childhood friends, and his ambitions in becoming a Supporter. More importantly, he had talked about wanting to prove he could become a Giver someday and show how much Supporters could contribute.
You remembered the way his eyes would sparkle whenever Riyo or Zanka returned from missions, his eyes scanning their Vital Instruments’ glow. How his shoulders hunched over whenever other members of the Cleaners put down his profession. You recalled how he’d admitted in soft murmurs that he didn’t truly mind being a Supporter, but would give anything for his hammer to be something of worth.
Your stomach lurched. You were someone who got to call themselves a Giver, a Natural, as Zanka snarkily put it.
You had royally fucked up.
-
The next morning arrived in a blur.
After several warnings and one final checkup, Eisha had finally removed the IV from your arm.
“...You’re okay now, but please, rest well—or I mean,” She looked away nervously, her voice lowering into a meek mumble, “Just don’t overexert yourself with your Vital Instrument.”
“Eisha, I’ll be resting up, I promise. I trust the professional.”
She walked you to the infirmary door, giving you one small wave before nodding.
“Take care of yourself.”
“You too, Doctor.”
She smiled at you, mouth closed but still radiating warmth. You grinned at her and nodded her goodbye. The hallways were as they always were, spotted with the occasional Supporters hauling crates. Your eyes stopped at every passing body, trying to find him. Though as you expected, you couldn’t find Follo. How would you even start your apology? Maybe it would be better to write a letter, though you’d need some time considering you still had to translate the letters from time to time.
“YO! THERE YOU ARE!”
A large gloved hand landed on your shoulder. August Stilza beamed at you
“I’VE BEEN LOOKING ALL OVER FOR YOU.”
You smiled softly, “What’s up, man! Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“SO…EISHY WIESHY SAID YOU WERE AROUND HERE AND SHE WAS RIGHT!”
He thrust a canvas tote bag at your chest.
“I GOT YOUR DRIP READY. CUSTOM-MADE COLLOSO BRAND CLOTHES FOR MY FAVORITE MAILER AND OWNER OF ONE SICKASS CAR.”
“Thanks man, really appreciate it.” You stretched out your hand, ready to dab him up. “I ought to take you out someday for the whole incident.”
He only snapped both fingers, “August OUT!”
He spun cleanly on one heel and hobbled right back down the hallway, his hands in his pockets as he hummed off-pitch while having his headphones up. Damn it. He had left you hanging.
Your eyes then lowered, focused on the simple beige tote. Its contents shifted as you moved the bag around, and when you peered inside, you could clearly see dark brown fabric and small red splotches. The dark brown was the same color that clouded the bustling hallways every day. Could it be? Not wanting to unwrap your mysterious package in the open, you scrambled to the nearest bathroom and fumbled the lock closed. You tilted the tote upside down and watched its contents fall onto the counter.
“Holy shit.”
August had outdone himself this time. On the counter lay your brand-new Cleaner uniform. Your hands rushed to feel the jacket. The overall silhouette was boxy yet loose, looking distinctly like an F1 racing jacket. There wasn’t any padding, but its bright-colored lining was smooth and fresh. When you shrugged it on, it hung relatively close to your torso compared to the baggy shapes of Enjin’s or Tamsy’s jacket, though it wasn’t skin-tight. The section of the jacket above your chest was the signature dark Cleaners color, a color that faded away around the shoulder seam.
Your eyes scanned the sleeves, following their length to your wrists. The sleeves stopped perfectly at the connection between your arm and hand, their fabric bunching up together at the rigid cuffs, which were trimmed black. The cuffs matched the high band collar, both having muted crimson accents that ran across the seams in thick lines that immediately reminded you of Chevvy. You slowly zipped it up, and the collar stood against your neck. When you unzipped it halfway, the collar folded over to reveal the fiery scarlet lining.
How much thought had August put into your uniform? Its jacket in its entirety reflected your style
Your attention then moved to the pants. They were large, being wide skater pants with room to move around comfortably. They almost looked like a pair of old JNCOs you had back home, except their fabric wouldn’t cook you alive in the East Ward’s weather. Their light beige color cuts dramatically into the deep grey right below your knees. The accents were unique, but it was the grey that solidified its connection with the rest of the Cleaners’ wardrobe. The uniforms were a cohesive collection through and through.
Two black boots had fallen to the floor with a surprisingly loud crash. After a glance at them, you decided to sit down on the toilet and slip them on. They were customized combat boots. Their surface was a rough, grainy black leather that gleamed under the light. Tying the charcoal shoelaces, you could closely see the red stitching and matching accents near the sole. Sick.
When you shook the tote after noticing a small lump, something else slid into your hands. It was clearly Gris’ housewarming gift, except it had undergone aesthetic changes. Scarlet embroidery now traced the seams in patterns similar to the ones on the activated form of your key’s handle. The stitching matched the jacket’s accents perfectly.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, the dim light of the flickering lightbulb above you only doing so much to light up your frame. So much had changed in less than half a year. For one, your body had been warped into a gruesome form. Extremities were now devoid of the complex shadows that caught when you sat under the moonlight. Your face had shifted one dimension down, but despite everything, it was still you.
You opened the door a creak before slipping out of the bathroom. Honestly, the outfit couldn’t be more perfect. The smooth jacket sat perfectly over your shoulders as you moved through the hallways. The oversized pants swayed after every step, audibly shuffling from time to time. August had really been in the zone when he was working on your outfit, and you couldn’t be any more glad.
A hand grabbed your wrist, making you jump.
“There you are.” You looked to the side. Tomme smiled at you. “I’m so glad I found you so soon.”
“Nice to see ya again, Tomme. Hey woah—”
She tugged you forward, dashing through the hallways in the direction of the lobby. “C’mon! Semiu called for you specifically. I can’t tell you yet, but it's really great news.”
“Good news? Respectfully, Tomme, Semiu never has good news.”
The two of you travelled through HQ until she stopped just short of the entrance, looking onwards at the crowd standing together before Semiu. In the lobby stood some Supporters you didn’t know. There were some you knew, maybe a little too well. Next to the unknown Supporters stood Gris, Follo, Zanka and a short, skinny boy with messy, wide hair and curious crimson eyes. The latter tucked his hands in the pockets of a large purple hoodie, looking deep in thought as she stared closely at Semiu.
“It's extremely unusual for two living Sphereites to be found so close in time. So I thought you might be interested.” Semiu paused and turned to look at you. “Oh, there you are. I was starting to think you’d hidden away at Eisha’s again.”
Zanka’s eyes narrowed, huffing loudly, “What?”
“Listen up. Another rookie will join you all.” She looked at the rest of the group. “Starting today, they’ll be your new designated Driver.”
You froze. Tomme’s grip around your hand tightened as she dragged you towards the group.
“Them?” Zanka jerked his thumb towards Rudo. “First you dump the trainee on me, and now this? How're we supposed to know their monster car won't try t'kill us all?"
“Excuse me?” You stomped towards the boy and stared him down.
A stern voice cut through the air.
“They were assigned to help out Team Akuta before Rudo even got here. In fact, they were supposed to go on a previous mission.” She gave you a pointed look, and you knew better than to keep bickering. “Until last week’s accident.”
You let out a low chuckle as your gaze turned to the floor. “My bad, Sem’, it's all good now, right?”
“Two rookies? Big sis, I trust your judgement and all but—”
Semiu slid a yellow manila folder onto the stone table for all to see. She then turned to Zanka.
“It's not my call to make. The Boss preapproved everything before he left.”
Zanka snatched the folder, his eyes flickering across the page. The more he read, the deeper his eyebrows knitted together.
“You’re welcome to check out the paperwork, Zanka. The facts don’t lie.”
‘As the leader of the Cleaners, I, Arkha Corvus, authorize…’
Your eyes skimmed lower.
‘—Drive to and from sites where our aid is requested. This permission is given with the specific intention to foster their relationship with their Vital Instrument in a natural environment.
During active missions, they will serve under the authority of the highest-ranking Giver or Supporter. Considering their current skill level, they may choose to opt out of active combat with Trash Beasts and Givers, but it is strongly advised to create a safe learning environment…’
So much for creating a true Montessori educational environment. Geez, he was really gentle parenting you.
Your eyes quickly flitted across the rest of the content. It was mostly just legal and technical jargon you didn’t really care about, but there was some good news too.
Apparently, your house arrest was lifted. If you were to travel independently, you were supposed to notify Semiu either verbally or in writing.
The last line was clear as day. ‘If I am absent, Semiu will oversee all matters regarding their mission assignments.’
“Compared to most, this mission carries a relatively low risk of injury. It should be perfectly safe.”
Your thoughts ran wild.
The ‘Welcome to the Ground’ party had happened.
Rudo was here, so he already had the special Trash Beast mission.
Riyo or Enjin were nowhere in sight. Strange.
This was his first mission with Zanka. Gris, Follo and Tomme were here, which meant…
Shit!
The official timeline was already on track. Who’s the first major antagonist they meet in the mission with Zanka? Your thoughts already trailed back to a rather creepy guy. A guy who you’d already met almost a week ago. The same Raider who had stolen your lunch and licked your spoon clean.
"I initially planned to send Enjin along with you, but he had another job to take care of.” A knowing smile spread on Semiu’s cheeks. “I believe he said, ‘They'll be fine with Zanka along’”
A steady hand set on your shoulder as all of Zanka’s previous complaints vanished into thin air.
He grinned widely at you, his voice turning unnaturally sweet, “Maybe we started off on the wrong foot! Nice to have ya on the team.”
-
The novelty of driving your Chevvy through the desert had worn off shortly after you started your drive. Now, all that remained was the crippling anxiety of having over a dozen eyes focused on your every move.
Gris sat in the passenger seat, with his arms resting lazily on the dashboard. Per the agreement, he supervised you like a hawk, offering directions like a human GPS device.
“Left up here.”
“Continue straight until you hit a crossroad.”
His words were calm and patient, as they often were, but they felt slightly different now—feeling stern rather than relaxed. You knew it was probably just the mission stress, though, considering his tone didn’t change.
From his seat in the second row, Zanka watched you suspiciously, almost as if he were waiting for you to mess up. Apparently, his authority and the compliments had gotten to his head, so much so that he was acting up. His arms were folded, a smug expression plastered on his face.
“Hey, ease up will ya? Givers need to be in control of their Vital Instruments at all times, not the other way ‘round.”
Right beside Zanka sat Rudo, his large red eyes peering towards the driver’s seat, basically staring holes into you. Unlike Zanka’s, his stare didn’t feel invasive or judgemental. Instead, it just looked curious. Overwhelmingly curious.
The air was thick with awkwardness. Follo made the first move to clear the atmosphere.
“So it's our second mission together, right, Rudo?”
“Yes.”
Rudo looked outside the window and closed his mouth. Follo’s smile faltered.
He spoke up again. “Hey, have you heard the news about the giant trash storm that’s approaching soon?”
Zanka piped in. You could hear the pride in his voice. “I want everyone locked in! Supporters, check your tasks. Givers, be mindful of your Vital Instruments, especially if you’re new to using ‘em.”
Ouch!
You let out a large sigh, looking at Follo’s dejected expression in the rearview mirror.
“I hadn’t heard about the storm, but I bet it’ll be terrible for us Cleaners.”
Follo looked up into the mirror, and his eyes relaxed.
That’s a start. You’d apologize properly when you got back home.
You arrived at the work site a little faster than you would’ve liked to. Parking Chevvy out in a secluded corner of some run-down ruins, you stepped off the car and joined the squad in their trek to find this mysterious merchant.
Zanka clapped his hands together, “I want everyone givin' it their best!”
The walk didn’t seem to be too long, thankfully.
Rudo tilted his head, “By the way... Gris? You don't carry a weapon?”
Gris’ brows shot up, clearly proud, “I carry a knife for self-defense, but I mainly fight barehanded. It's what I'm used to.”
Follo leaned into the two, his voice lowering, “He does have a little talisman, though, Rudo! He prays to it every time we head out, asking that we make it back safe.”
“You moron! Don't tell him that!”
“What's the big deal? Everyone knows it!”
Behind your group, a creepy voice rang out.
“Thank you for coming. I'm the merchant who hired you. I'll guide you to the trash beast's lair.”
Immediately, your hands disappeared into your crossbody bag. Your new mask. It resembled the front half of an old racing helmet. Sleek black plating wrapped across your face. A visor-like panel dark curved around your eyes, stopping in the middle of your nose bridge, while a thick red line split the helmet vertically. Jabber had already seen your face, and you weren’t taking any chances.
Follo shuffled closer to you, “The air is alright around here. Plus, those masks are specifically for No Man's Land.”
“I’m not taking any chances. Air pollution is a serious deal.”
Rudo looked extremely conflicted.
“You really had a Sphereite? Where'd you find them? I mean... Did they say anything? What did they look like?!”
The lady, on the other hand, stayed eerily quiet.
“I was carrying my cargo along when I happened upon them and took them in. They were unconscious, so I couldn't ask them anything. I’m worried about them too. That's why I want to get them back from the trash beast.”
“You weren't planning on selling off that Sphereite, were you?”
“Certainly not! I was really worried! Trust me! But I do happen to be very interested in Sphereites…”
The merchant spun the story you knew a little too well. She was just crossing through when a rogue Trash Beast attacked her and took her cargo. As she talked, she slowly made her way towards a large warehouse. Suddenly, she started nudging Rudo inside, his body pressed against yours as you were also forced in. Standing across from you a small figure sat wearing Spherite clothes.
Rudo spoke up loudly, “That's not a person!’
“Hurry! Hurry, get the Sphereite!”
The inside was damp. Dust floated through the broken shafts. Shadows enveloped the lithe body on the chair. Her skin was plastic. Her eyes were glass. You knew the twist was coming. It was a doll.
Then, the solid floor beneath you melted, and gravity took effect as you fell through the air. You hit the ground below, pain exploding across your back. It was one thing to see your favorite characters hurt after a fall like that, but experiencing it yourself?
Rudo spoke first, “What the hell happened? It's like the floor turned into mud.”
From above, her voice rang out. “Are you all right?!”
Gris pushed himself upright. “We're all fine! But what is this place? Where's Sphereite?!”
“Oh, they're in there! Right there, in fact!”
She glared daggers at your group.
“Sphereite Giver.”
With those last words, her body melted, collapsing in itself like wet clay. Arms dripped down onto her chest, her legs fusing before they hunched over into thick brown sludge. Footsteps started to echo behind you. Heavy. Slow. A towering, bulky man emerged from the endless darkness. Standing next to him was a significantly shorter, lithe woman whose face looked identical to that of the merchant.
Mismatched and rough purple-and-white scraps of cloth were stitched together roughly, forming the fabric that hung from both their frames.
Zanka scoffed loudly, “Ah, okay. I get it now. I was thinkin' something was up here. Those purple electric lanterns… You set us up, didn't you? Raiders…”
The female Raider perked up, her face deadly, “That Sphereite… We want him.”
Within the next minute, you were running alongside the Supporters and Rudo. Zanka’s figure blurred into a small blotch in the distance, as the concrete corridor stretched endlessly ahead. Every footstep echoed through the concrete walls. Your legs started to burn almost immediately, feeling as heavy as your breathing. With every few strides, your vision started to blur together.
You should’ve really practiced your cardio. Even with the fresh air blasting through your mask, you were still short of breath.
After a few minutes, your ragtag group reached the heavy emergency door. The sign above it glowed a bright green, like a beacon of hope in the darkness. You still couldn’t confidently read each letter without cross-checking them with a chart, but the signage was universal.
Exit.
The metal door creaked uncomfortably when it opened.
Someone spoke up, though you couldn’t tell who. "We can't use Chokers here. Get topside and call for backup."
Nobody argued. Tomme led the group of Supporters through the staircase, leaving only Gris, Follo, Rudo, and you behind.
"I'll go check on Zanka."
As Gris spoke, footsteps started to echo in the darkness.
“Perfect time, looks like he’s done.” Gris relaxed noticeably. ”Zanka, how are you holding up? Better than the Raiders, I bet.”
A lanky figure came into view—dark locks, pink eyes.
“White hair, black at the tips...” He looked to the side, humming, “Hopeless baby face…”
His face turned to look at Rudo.
Gris’ eyes narrowed, “Who are you?”
Suddenly, he vaulted upwards, landing in a crouch atop the ‘Exit’ sign.
“There you are. Sir, Spherite Giver in the flesh!”
“Get Back Rudo! He’s a Raider.”
Long claws unfurled from Jabber’s ring as he flexed them. With one fluid motion, the glowing sign collapsed onto the door, sending clouds of debris flying into the air. Dust flew up into the air.
“He blocked the exit!
“Dammit!” Follo hissed, “How many more raiders are we going to have to deal with?”
“He's one of the Cleaners. If you're after him, that means you'll be fighting the Cleaners.”
Gris sure was confident.
At this, Jabber’s grin spread. “I was running late, y'know. I have a bad sense of dic...I mean, direction. I was totally lost, but when I finally got here, the others had been whacked. I really wasted my time, eh.”
“Hey, where's Zanka? There was another Cleaner in the direction you came from.”
You knew where he was, but you couldn’t risk shifting attention to yourself. Not now.
The Raider ignored Gris, “You see, there's someone who wants to talk with you. Would you like to come with me, Sphereite boy?”
He stepped closer, not to you, but to Rudo. You watched as he hooked two fingers with the straps of Rudo’s mask. They snapped easily.
“Brah! What the hell you got this on for? There’s no Trash Beasts around here?
“Tch! What did you do to the Cleaner with the staff?!”
Jabber pouted, “Aww, you're talking about the guy with the Bad Attitude. I try to go easy on people who bark and bite. He’s sleeping off the beatdown I gave. Now, that said, he's probably not happy with all that my venom is doing to his body!”
“If you just follow me calmly, you won't feel any pain.”
Mankira’s ends clattered against each other. “So what do you say?”
Gris starts to twist his wrist, ready to strike. By his side, Follo’s face turns neutral. Within the next second, they charge, Follo holding his hammer tightly and Gris bearing his fists. Jabber leaps into the air, his legs extended mid-air, kicking their bodies with great force. Gris crashed into the wall. Follo skidded across the concrete.
Jabber landed on his feet. He pointed at Follo, “You, I can work with.”
His voice lowered into disgust, looking at Gris, “You ain’t the effort!”
You stayed in the very back, near the rubble and grime. Your hand dug frantically into your jacket pocket. It's gotta be here.
“And you?” A long claw trailed across your helmet, “A Giver, hidin’ behind your Supporter buddies? Real low, even for a Cleaner.”
As something lifted the edge of your mask, your fingers finally wrapped around your key’s cold metal. Great timing.
“Yo, do I know you from somewhere?”
Your head lifts, your eyes looking at magenta ones behind your visor. “Not that I recall”
His gaze never shifted, almost as if he were deep in thought. Like he recognized your voice. He released your mask.
“What will it be? You've got the stuff. I don't need you. I'll definitely protect my friends. No matter who I'm up against, I'll protect them...I'll protect their value!”
Yeah, Gris was definitely overconfident.
“Oh, wait...You must be one of the weaklings in the Cleaners called a Supporter. A weakling...protects?”
Rudo shouted, turning Jabber’s focus back to him. “Hey, Gris... You can't win with bare fists alone… We're retreating, right? You don't have to protect me! I can defend myself. Move already!”
You make your turn to move. Or at least tried to. The key hummed softly in your hand, a warm feeling surging through your veins. You pulled your key out of your pocket—growing with several clicks before its teeth sharpened into jagged edges. It didn’t do that before, but you didn’t have enough time to think too much. Then, Jabber lunged, claws aiming for Gris’s chest. You lunged too, drawing your arms back before BAM! Metal collided with metal. A shrill clang exploded in the air. Jabber’s body flew backwards, smashing into a concrete column so hard it broke on impact.
The key glistened red under the light. Red drops fell to the ground, a small pool forming next to you. Jabber peeled himself off the floor
“Huh?” Jabber started cackling. “Look who decided to act out.”
Behind you, someone groaned in pain. Your head turned. Gris' knees buckled under him, a large gash across his shoulder. Follo caught him before he hit the ground.
Did you just? Gris. It couldn’t be.
The black handle pulsed softly. How were you able to hit so hard?
You glanced at your side. Rudo was looking into the distance, mouth agape. You tapped him on the shoulder, ignoring Jabber’s shuffling through the debris.
He’s probably reliving his memories with Regto. Poor guy.
You crouched, looking into Follo’s eyes. You could feel Gris’ eyes on your frame.
“Follo, Gris, do you have a weapon you can lend Rudo?”
“Just my hammer, but I can fight, you know.”
“It's more important to stop the bleeding and make sure Gris is okay.”
“Besides, I care way too much about you to use your old hammer.”
Follo’s shoulder slumped, yet a small smile tugged at his cheeks.
“Yo Gris, toss Rudo your amulet. We’ll need all the luck we can get.”
Gris rummaged through his pocket, face grimacing with pain.
“You’re from the cafeteria. Never would’ve thought you were a Cleaner, welp!”
Across from you, Jabber stood up wearily, holding his side. When your eyes focused more closely, you could see the red that started to seep into his clothes.
“Guess now I have to crush you now! Let’s see how strong you are, Frowny Face!”
He strutted through the room towards you and jumped high up in the air. His claws, tainted with red, aimed at your throat. Time seemed to stop. The key kept glowing, pulsing more vividly than it did before. It was telling you to strike—strike hard.
Your arms swung back and then released. Scarlet light blinded your vision, but you could hear the impact. You felt something else too. The serrated edges slashed through flesh. Then, a loud explosion. Your ears rang. Something had crashed into a column. Blood splattered from the edge of your key into the air. The engravings in the handle were shining. Within the next couple of seconds, your vision cleared up.
What was that?
Meters away from you, another column had crumbled into rubble, though something moved from within it.
“Mhm, harder!”
Your face contorted into a grimace as your eyes flickered towards Rudo. His feet were still locked in place, but his head shook slightly, ruffling his hair around.
“Lock in, Trash Boy!” A familiar wave of nausea spread through you. “This is your chance to—Ugh. Prove yourself or whatever!”
Bile built up in your throat. You felt like shit, but your words had finally reached him. Gris’ talisman had scattered through the floor, landing right in front of him. Rudo bent down, mumbling something you either couldn’t hear or couldn’t understand. When he gripped it, a red aura started to envelop him. Another red light flashed in front of your eyes. A giant hand materialized into existence above him. Its single eye opened, long black tendrils forming at its tail.
Jabber was still down, but the pillars wouldn’t keep him down for much longer. This was your chance to escape, possibly your only chance to escape. Your head was pounding. To be honest, it didn’t feel like you would faint, but you weren’t about to test that.
With a single swing of the oversized key, the way to the door cleared up. Rubble and dust spread into the air.
Without wasting a second, you ran over to Gris. From his spot next to Gris, Follo looked at you, hands painted red. Looks like he wasn’t able to stop the bleeding. You snaked your arm around his torso, trying to support his weight. A shiver ran through your body. He was heavy. You couldn’t do it alone.
Then, Follo moved closer. The weight you carried lessened as he lifted Gris. Together you managed to haul him up, stumbling into the staircase.
You coughed out from the first few steps, “I trust you with this one, Rudo.”
The hand still hovered above him, focused on Jabber.
Rudo turned to you and nodded.