Chapter Text
Despite the many years, and endless efforts in doing so, no matter how hard Zombieman tried, he could not remember so much as an ounce of who he was or the life he had lived before his tragic death and even more tragic revival at the hands of Dr. Genus. The only things he had left from the life he once had was a half-burnt picture filled with the people he didn’t recognize, and a name that had long since stopped feeling like his own, if it ever even was to begin with.
The years spent as an unwilling test subject for the House of Evolution had made time a meaningless concept to Zombieman, and his immortality only deepened the meaninglessness that the passing of every day held for the man who could no longer die. What meaning, then, did life even have anymore? The fact that he could not die meant that each second was no longer a precious resource to be cherished and spent wisely, but rather an item in such great abundance that it was now absolutely worthless unless it was being actively used in the pursuit of some kind of goal. Some people would call his outlook on life nihilistic, but Zombieman preferred to think of it as realistic, since there was nothing he could do to prevent his regenerative abilities from keeping him alive, and unless he wanted to give throwing himself into the nearest meat grinder a try, this line of thinking was the only thing keeping him sane while staring down the prospect of spending the next eternity completely alone.
Alone. Yes, that was the most likely case for a man such as himself. After all, who would want to associate themselves with a literal walking corpse on a lifelong quest for revenge, who had absolutely no memories of himself or his life prior to waking up in the cold prison of the House of Evolution and could barely operate a cell phone?
‘No one’... is what Zombieman would have said in response to that question back in the beginning of his “life”, but things changed rather dramatically for him one night, and for once, it seemed it would be for the better.
It all starts in a dingy little dinner on the outskirts of Y City, close enough to the city center to not be absolutely crawling with monsters like out in the forest, but far enough that police didn’t typically respond to calls unless it was absolutely necessary, and buildings weren’t repaired until weeks, sometimes even months, after they’d been initially destroyed, if they got repaired at all. Most cities operated like this, with more effort being put into protecting and maintaining the center most portions of the city, while the outskirts were often left to fend for themselves, despite everyone’s taxes going towards funding the above mentioned services. Essentially, if you didn’t have the money to afford living accommodations towards the center of the city, you could kiss any sort of safety and security goodbye. The hypocrisy of it all made Zombieman sick, but alas, this was one more thing he had no power to change.
The dinner he was currently sat in was one of the few remaining buildings in the area that was left standing after the most recent monster attack, and while it was definitely better when compared to a pile of rubble, under normal circumstances Zombieman doubted it would have passed any sort of health and safety code. Most of the nearby residents had taken what little they could salvage from their destroyed homes and had fled either to the city center to bargain with the mayor for a settlement of some kind, or to other cities entirely, pleading for refugee status. The only people left in this portion of Y city it seemed were Zombieman himself, the old cook behind the dinner wall currently making his order, as well as a young woman, likely in her early to mid 20s, with long auburn hair tied back into a ponytail, amber eyes, and heavily freckled cheeks, wearing what looked like the dinner’s standard worker’s uniform.
Zombieman had been taken aback slightly when he first saw the young woman exit out of the kitchen to give him a menu and silverware, unsure as to why someone so young and, quite frankly, so pretty was hanging around this monster infested dump serving overly bitter coffee and undercooked eggs to shady men like him, when there were surely better options in life for someone like her. Then again, maybe there weren’t, after all life was an unfair bitch who favored no one. Zombieman didn’t know this girl or her story, and for all he knew she could have a perfectly valid reason for being here, and even if she didn’t, it was ultimately none of his business, and he had absolutely no intentions of sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong. With that in mind, Zombieman did what he would do on any other occasion like this, he kept his head down, his mouth shut, finished off his coffee and eggs, paid his bill, making sure to leave a decent tip for the beautiful young woman who served him, and headed out into the night to find something else to kill.
Despite his general rule to never return to the same place twice unless otherwise incentivized to do so, Zombieman found himself back at that shitty little dinner in Y City about a week or so after his first visit there, for no other reason than because it was on his route to K City, where he most recent lead on the House of Evolution was, and he figured he should stop and eat something before continuing on with his journey. Definitely nothing to do with the pretty young woman who had maintained a persistent presence in the back of his head for the past week and a half.
The dinner was in nearly the exact same state as it was the last time Zombieman was there, and was just as empty. This time around however, the old cook and the young waitress appeared to be having an argument of some kind about a “little pest”. Upon hearing the bell above the front door to the dinner chime, indicating that a customer had come through, the young waitress barged out of the kitchen, the sound of her boss echoing into the main hall of the dinner, just long enough to slam a menu, a set of cutlery, as well as a mug and an entire beaker of coffee in front of the undead man who had sat himself on a stool at the counter, before quickly retreating back into the kitchen to yell angrily at her boss some more. It wasn’t until Zombieman had filled his mug with coffee and sugar and was about to take a sip of the steaming beverage when he finally noticed, what he assumed must be, the “little pest” that the waitress and her boss were arguing so fiercely about.
A small infant with short light brown, almost auburn colored, hair and the same amber eyes as the pretty young waitress, sat calmly and quietly, despite the loud yelling from the other room, in a high chair behind the counter. The child suckled passively on a blue pacifier, staring intensely at Zombieman as if he were the most interesting thing they’d seen all day, which, to be fair, he likely was. Unsure of what else to do, or if his frighteningly sickly appearance would startle the small child, Zombieman remained as still as possible, not wanting to scare them into a crying fit that would only escalate the argument currently raging in the kitchen.
Much to Zombieman’s surprise however, the child did not start crying, nor did they even look scared of him, merely curious, interested, perhaps wondering in their tiny little baby brain what in this great big world Zombieman could possibly be. The child tilted their head at him after a moment, before a small chubby hand lifted itself and began swinging limply back and forth in front of them, which Zombieman would quickly recognize as a somewhat measly attempt at a wave.
The raven haired man’s eyes widened in surprise at the friendly gesture, but it was quickly replaced by an amused smile as Zombieman lifted his own hand and returned the child’s greeting, allowing a small chuckle to escape when a wide smile broke out over the infant’s face, causing the pacifier to fall from his mouth and hit the tray in front of him, while his hand began to wave even harder at the older man. The tender moment was quickly interrupted by the young waitress crashing through the swinging door that connected the dining area to the kitchen, still shouting at the chef.
“THAT’S IT! I’VE HAD IT EARL! YOU’RE EITHER GONNA LET ME DO MY GODDAMN JOB AND QUIT YOUR BITCHING ABOUT ISAMU, OR YOU CAN TRY YOUR LUCK LOOKING FOR ANOTHER DUMB FLOOZY TO PUT UP WITH YOUR PATHETIC ALCOHOLIC SELF AND THIS PIECE OF SHIT PLACE YOU CALL A RESTAURANT!” The woman shouted, before slamming the door behind her, effectively ending the argument with her boss, though some grumbled complaints could still be heard from behind the door.
The woman glares angrily at the door for a moment before turning and walking over to Zombieman. “What do you want?” She asks, her tone still sharp and angry but her expression softened slightly, though not showing any hint that she recognized him.
Zombieman stared at the young woman, his eyes taking in and committing every curve, bump, and freckle on her face to memory, to be guiltily brought up at a later time when he was inevitably overcome with a deep and aching loneliness that even copious amounts of alcohol and self-hatred couldn’t suppress, before finally answering the woman’s question. “Oh, uh… just eggs and toast. Scrambled. Please.”
The woman nodded before wordlessly taking his menu from him and beginning to head back to the kitchen to inform the cook of his order, briefly stopping to check on the child, her child, who had gone back to sitting stoically in his high chair, still staring intently at Zombieman.
So the pretty lady who served him shitty coffee and even shittier food had a kid, which likely meant that she also had a husband, or at the very least a boyfriend, and was therefore absolutely and undeniably not in any way going to be interested in skipping out on the rest of her shift to go have a midnight romp in the only partially collapsed office building he saw a couple blocks away from here. Then again, even if it did turn out that she was single, which was unlikely given how drop dead gorgeous she was, but if she was, Zombieman doubted that he was anywhere even close to being on the list of people someone like her would want to willingly engage, much less have sex with.
The undead man grimaced to himself and slumped dejectedly in the worn out old stool, his hopes of maybe spending the night with someone other than a bottle of bourbon stomped into the dirt by logic and his own self-loathing. Zombieman dares another glance at the child, Isamu, perhaps hoping to silently vent his frustrations by glaring at the small boy, but another little wave accompanied by that award winning smile melts through Zombieman’s cold undead heart like it were butter, and he can’t help but allow his grimace to soften into another smile as he returns the boy’s playful gesture once again.
When the young waitress returns with his food a few moments later, Zombieman focuses his attention on his food and wastes no timing finishing it off, paying his bill, once again leaving a decent tip, knowing the young mother could use the money more than him, and leaving the dinner, offering only a small wave to Isamu, which the boy happily returned, as he heads out the door.
Over the next several months, Zombieman would find himself back at that dinner more times than he could count in both hands. It wasn’t as though he were necessarily trying to make it so that he was in the area and therefore had an excuse to stop by for a cheap, if dubious quality, meal. It just kind of worked out that most of his leads seemed to be taking him through Y City as of late, and that the most convenient route that resulted in the least amount of people staring and pointing at him like he didn’t already know he was a freak of nature, was through the outskirts… right by that dinner… that just so happened to be the place of employment of an incredibly beautiful woman and her outrageously adorable little boy… no other reasoning behind it… nope...
…
…
Ok, so maybe Zombieman has gone and gotten himself the smallest bit attached to this woman and her kid, big deal, it happens to everybody. His heart might not beat as fast as it once did, but contrary to what popular media will often portray of those who cheat death, he is still very much capable of having and expressing a wide range of emotions, even if he normally dulls them with gratuitous amounts of alcohol.
The fact that he’d become the slightest bit attached to this woman and her child was honestly bound to happen at some point. He’d been starving himself of most human contact save for what he needed to gather information on the House of Evolution and order himself food at whatever random restaurant he happened upon while travelling, to the point where he’d even begun talking to inanimate objects like some crazy psychopath. On top of all that, his frequent visits to the dinner had apparently been significant enough for the young woman to take notice of, as after about his fifth visit to the dinner, the woman, Sango, Zombieman would soon learn was her name, began initiating conversations with him that extended past the typical small talk that was necessary for her to do her job.
That was the point when he knew he should have gotten out, pulled out of that situation, put as much distance between himself and that dinner as physically possible, and then never returned, that would have been the smart thing to do in that instance. Unfortunately Zombieman isn’t a smart man, at least not when it comes to other people, nor has he ever been very good at doing what’s good for him, especially when pretty women who smile when he walks through the door and laugh at his shitty old man jokes are involved. The fact that little Isamu was the spitting image of his mother and easily the most adorable child Zombieman has ever laid eyes on is definitely not helping this situation one bit.
No. No no no no no, this was getting absolutely out of hand and had to be stopped.
This little… whatever the hell you call it, that he was experiencing toward this woman was nothing more than a lust driven fantasy for the only person who ever actually treated him like a person, fueled by his own loneliness and desire for human contact, nothing more. The second he found himself a cheap motel room and an even cheaper hooker, he’d drown these silly emotions in as much alcohol and sex as it took, and that would be the end of it.
If only things could be that simple for Zombieman. After all, death should have been the end of him long ago.
Yet his dead heart still beats.