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Phights are fun. Phights are also rough. Phights are a massive pain in the ass regardless if a Support heals your body back into fighting shape, because one's nerves will always decide it's a wonderful idea to replay the last sensation it felt - achy, sore pain from having a subspace trip mine blown up in your face.
Rocket relishes that he at least blew up that egotistic prat. The sooty look on that pompous inphernal was truly worth the hours of excruciating itchy poison. It's a shame Medkit wasn't working today or the annoying sensation would've been dealt with way quicker.
At least the Phighting tournaments ensures their Phighters get medical attention after each round. It's one of the only reason why Zuka is fine with Rocket going to town blowing inphernals up into a sooty, intact mess.
Also, victory pays well.
Sword, wonderful walking ball of sunshine, is in the middle of yapping Rocket's horn off about the stunt he pulled off with Skateboard during the Phight.
Had Rocket not been occupied with Subspace, he probably could've witnessed the awe-inspiring scene of Skateboard using Sword's Phinisher as a momentum boost, and the equally inspiring conclusion of Skateboard falling off his gear and landing flat on his ass. Alas, Sword's verbal description of the scene would have to do.
"It was like he was straight out of an action movie! Big explosion in the background that goes pssshaaaw! Right when the music starts playing that really catchy guitar riff-" Sword chattered, waving his arms around animatedly to reenact the memory in Sword's usual exaggerated manner.
Rocket just grunts out a noise of acknowledge, feet taking the left turn to the street where his family's shop is. He wonders what Zuka has planned for dinner today. He should probably ask his dad if he needs to buy anything from the shops before he and Sword sinks the remaining daylight hours into video games until the latter's curfew comes around.
That idea is swiftly thrown out the window when the inphernal manning the counter is not his beloved one-armed father.
"Who's that?" Sword echoes his thought with two easy words, but none of the wariness and suspicious that is filling Rocket's head.
"Dunno." Rocket frowned suspiciously, fingers twitching to summon his gear.
He's not usually this trigger happy, but there is a complete stranger who is standing in his dad's spot in his dad's shop in the hour his dad would usually be. Also, surely Zuka would tell him if there was going to be some random inphernal working in the shop, or at least even bring up the idea of hiring someone else to Rocket at some point. Past experiences usually indicates that an unmentioned change in routine means something bad and likely painful for Rocket.
Rocket turns to his friend with all the seriousness he can muster, "Get ready to back me up."
"Back you up?" Sword parrots, a little lost but he catches on quick once he sees how unnerved Rocket is about the stranger. His face twists into worry as the gears starts clicking in his head, "Oh. Oh no, do you think something happened to Zuka?"
Good ol' Sword and his habit of catastrophizing. Both a curse and blessing (especially when Sword gets an intrusive thought at 3AM in the morning and decides to make it Rocket's problem too) but in this case it would be a blessing. It means that Rocket's concern is entirely validated and has at least one basis that isn't just 'classic Rocket hate'.
"Doubt it. Dad's tough. But he would've told me if there's a new worker in the shop."
The inphernal gazes at them indifferently as the two Phighters approach. It gives Rocket a closer look of them, and his first honest opinion of them is that they look like a wimp. An easy target if they were in the Playground, and not the Crossroads.
"Hi! Who're you?" Sword is the first to initiate conversation with a smile that channels the sun.
It's a lethal weapon that induces either strong hostility or heart attack inducing gooey-ness in one's chest, in either order. For the latter in the case of Sword's enigmatic mentor, at least according to Sword.
The stranger seems to be leaning towards neither. They simply point at a cheap sticker slapped onto their chest that reads:
Hello! My name is:
___JON___
A stranger with a very strange name that doesn't offer a single insight to the kind of inphernal they are. Yep. Rocket did not like the feeling this 'Jon' was giving him.
Sword pursues the conversation ahead anyway. "Hi Jon. Do you know where Zuka is?"
'Jon' gestures vaguely outside the shop's vicinity.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rocket can't help but ask testily, lips curling into a displeased frown. "Is he here or did you do something to him?"
'Jon' slowly turns their head to give Rocket a weird look. Ah wait, no. He's familiar with it; it's the kind of look you give when you're trying to assess someone of their danger level.
Are they a threat? Are they going to be a problem?
It takes 'Jon' ten seconds for the look to drop into an apathetic expression. They don't seem to consider Rocket a threat at all. Instead, they give the two inphernals a lazy shrug. Not once do they open their mouth to give Rocket a verbal answer - a confirmation of Zuka's whereabouts.
Sword takes the subtle dismissal far less personally than Rocket does. "Do you mind if we wait for Zuka here?"
'Jon' shrugs again. Evidently, they do not care.
Rocket walks past the main counter to the shop's side and leans over the counter's top to grab the stools he and his dad keeps there to sit during downtime. 'Jon' glances at them only a brief moment before returning to their solemn duty of attending to the counter.
Sword probes at the stranger a few time to get a feel of who they're dealing with, while Rocket plans out an explosive murder in his mind.
"Where did you come from?"
"What do you do in your free time?"
"Do you like Phighting?"
'Jon' does not deign to give Sword a verbal answer for anything, other than a blank look.
"Where are your horns?" Sword cannot help but ask with the grace of a truck.
'Jon' finally regards Sword with a look other than the blank stare they've been giving the entire time. Slowly, their gaze shifts from Sword's rigid upright horns, to Rocket's neatly trimmed horns, then simply tips the brim of their cap at the two Inphernals.
In other words, small horns.
Rocket wonders if 'Jon' is embarrassed about having small horns and viciously decides to hold that as blackmail, however that'll work. He is not above mockery.
"Hey." Sword whispers out to Rocket in a hiss, hand cupping over his mouth to speak to his friend lowly, "What do you think?"
"Suspicious as hell." Rocket grunts back, eyes glaring holes in the back of 'Jon's top.
Rocket does not trust this stranger at all. Has he mentioned that?
"Yup." Sword hums back as if Rocket vocalized the thought.
The Phighters sit and wait, watching with near obsession of 'Jon' standing behind the counter and occasionally dealing with Zuka's customers. They're awful at the job, not even bothering with trying to sell the ideas of artificial gears to the customers.
All 'Jon' does is silently push out one of Zuka's old magazine and let the customers read, and write down their name on some piece of paper before the customers leave.
A few seconds before Rocket decides he's waited long enough to summon his gear for some lighthearted threatening, Zuka arrives to the stranger's rescue with a plastic bag hanging in his hand.
"Kid, why are you sitting out there?" There's a slight furrow in the old mercenary's brow as he stops close to Rocket, not acknowledging the stranger standing in his spot in the shop. "Thought you had a match today."
"We lost." Rocket jabs a thumb over at 'Jon'. "Who's that?"
"A part timer." Zuka replies after a moment of thought, glancing at 'Jon' who finally looks away from their vigil. "Thanks for covering today."
"Wait, they actually work for you?" Sword pipes up curiously with a slight bounce in his movement, looking back and forth between Zuka and 'Jon'.
"Since when? You never mentioned there was a new guy here." Rocket brings up doubtfully, lips pulled into a pensive frown.
At least, he's fairly certain Zuka never mentioned anything of the sort.
"It was a last minute thing." His dad shrugged, setting the plastic bag down on the counter as 'Jon' puts the magazine back under the counter. "I needed them to fill in for today while I got dinner."
"You could've asked me, I would've gone and done it." Rocket brings up as 'Jon' looks through the bag like a nosy rat.
Their gaze turns pensive when they pull out a crumbled voucher page with big stamps on it.
"Limited sale time in the supermarket and I thought you were going to be Phighting longer." Zuka reasons back, plucking the crinkled paper from 'Jon's sticky fingers and putting it back into the bag.
'Jon' stares at the father with a silent demand for the bag's content. What the hell, wasn't that his family's dinner anyway?
Zuka defies that presumption by putting his hand into the bag and pulls out a can of Witches Brew. 'Jon' takes the can and inspects it closely like a magpie would do with its treasure.
"It'll probably taste different than what you're used to." Zuka tells his new part time worker who scrunches up their face at the thought.
What was that supposed to mean?
Rocket tries to beams his questions into his dad's head, and predictably fails when instead, Zuka proceeds to pull out an entire burger from the bag and hands that to 'Jon' as well.
"We don't have med kits here." Zuka huffs at 'Jon' when they held out an expectant hand, and shakes his head when they reach into their pocket to pull out some yellow vouchers. "TIX isn't a currency here. We use Bux." The retired Inphernal pulls out a small handful of Bux and deposits that in front of 'Jon'.
'Jon' expression flickers into something else briefly - surprise? - before it settles back into their apathetic gaze. They simply nod and accept their labor's reward of a soda can, a burger and Bux.
"Dad, you still haven't told me who that is." Rocket reminds his father. Something about that makes 'Jon' look at Zuka with a furrow in their brows and they point at Rocket.
Zuka ignores 'Jon' in favor of his son. "I told you, they're a part time worker I just hired for today." He looks back at them right as-
Rocket blinks. He did not just see that. "Sword, did you just see that?"
"Yeah." Sword nodded with wide awed eyes as the soda can is the next to disappear.
Who the hell puts a perfectly fine burger in their pocket?
Apparently the nut job called 'Jon'.
'Jon', as if to add fuel to the flames, does not acknowledge their reaction with a verbal response. There is a slight spark of amusement in their eyes though, if one knew how to decipher their expression like Zuka.
Zuka however does not feel like entertaining his son and his friend with an explanation of the tomfoolery they just witnessed. Either that or he too, is equally at loss for the blatant violation of physics that happened in his shop.
Still, Zuka had acknowledged 'Jon' as a part time worker of his shop. Despite how stupid it was and illogical as well, Rocket felt a very, very minor stab of jealousy at 'Jon'. It's always been just Zuka and Rocket at the shop after all. Never anyone else.
Zuka refused to employ any other inphernals on the basis that one, he didn't trust anyone to not screw up the shop and two, it was just more affordable for the family. If he was too tired and on the rare instances when Rocket wasn't available to cover his dad's shift, then the shop would just be closed for the day. That was how it was as far as Rocket could remember when Zuka trusted him to look after the shop.
The only exception was that creepy well-dressed inphernal that comes to crash at their home every now and then.
What did this 'Jon' guy do for his dad to employ him on the spot?
Neither 'Jon' nor his dad bothers to clarify a thing for Sword or Rocket, as 'Jon' simply vacates the spot for his dad while the latter returned back to his rightful spot again.
"Be sure to come back before it gets dark. And don't stray too far from the area. You're not used to this place." Zuka tells 'Jon' with the same stern tone he uses for Rocket whenever the latter is up to crimes.
"They're coming back?" Rocket can't help the little whine in his voice while 'Jon' wanders off like a stray thing returning to whence it came - that is, some dingy alley.
There's that tiny, tiny unreasonable voice of old insecurities and anxieties in the head that whispers threats of replacement. Rocket thought he stamped that out ages ago during one terribly awkward spawn day thrown by one terribly awkward dad.
Rocket is not being replaced. Rocket is very much Zuka's son. Begone, self doubts.
"Yeah. They don't have anywhere else to go for now." Zuka nodded as he pulls his own stool into place and seats himself to rest his legs. "It's only for a while, at least until they catch their breath again."
"Are they in trouble? Do we need to help them?" Sword assumes with worried brows, looking over to the direction 'Jon' disappeared to.
"Hopefully not. We have enough trouble going on in the Inpherno as it is." Zuka huffs out, bracing one arm on the countertop and resting his chin atop his hand. "Also, they've got enough going on too. We all need a break." A beat passes before Zuka looks over at Rocket with a bemused smile, "You gonna help out with dinner?"
Rocket withholds the 'tsk' from his tongue. Dang, his dad didn't say to lend him a hand. Missed opportunity.
"Dad, it's only five." Rocket snorts back, easing himself back into the familiar banter and routine.
'Vote your favorite Phighter today!' reads a colorful poster that's halfway off peeling from the concrete wall, featuring a boisterous figure in purple.
Towers of steel and glass, the near and far grumbles of cars and the ever present chatters of the horned population that inhabited the world.
It's both a familiar and confusing sight for them. The Bizville they fight for hasn't quite reached that state yet, but the one they grew up in has. What's the opposite of nostalgia where your childhood happens in the future of when you are at?
The media does not convey just enough how much of a headache time travel is. Or in their newly developed case, both time travel and parallel dimension travel. At least, they hope it's parallel. They are not ready for considering the consequences of their meddlings in the past.
The big tower at the central plaza is still quite the sight though - a gargantuan spire of interconnecting steel beams and a spiked halo to surround its head. It reminds them slightly of the Headquarters from both times.
Homesickness nearly strangles them by the throat before the emotion is wrangled back to nothing. No, there's a much more important matter to deal with here anyway.
They peel off the tacky little name tag sticker from their top, balling it up and stuffing it in their pocket before counting the BUX Zuka paid them for fulfilling his side quest. Truthfully, retail was something they kind of missed, but more for the normalcy it re-introduced in their life rather than the experience of dull servitude. A nice break from the fighting, even though every second passing felt wrong.
Speaking of a break, they never could've perceived receiving a very generous reward from a simple side quest. Not many people were willing with BUX.
Maybe one, or two if they were feeling extremely generous, but a whopping fifty?
Without a difficult fight to impede their path?
… Zuka had mentioned that the city uses BUX as their currency.
They may have tamed Greed, but they also do not look at a gift horse in the mouth. This would let them purchase a lot of beneficial upgrades and items that'll make the rest of their quest easier once they get back.
Perhaps they could finally afford those elusive cards that costs them five. The possibilities are endless.
No, wait.
Better yet, what new items can they acquire here? New cards even?
( You are merely delaying your quest. )
( You are keeping yourself trapped here. )
They are not. They are… Taking a break. A nice little moment to themself, like Kyoko had advised them so many times in the quiet times when Shedletsky tells them to wait while he arranges their route to the next sword.
Besides, it's not like the way back is within their control.
They make sure to keep track of the light level as they wander, being mindful of Zuka's request for them to return to his shop before it got dark. It was nice that the man- Inphernal, they remind themself of the quick terminologies Zuka briefed them on - was looking out for them, considering that their interactions were mainly as shopkeeper and customer.
It also really explained why Zuka looked uncomfortably out of place in the Vermillion village, even after he confided with them about being misplaced. Who would've thought he was from an entirely different world that mirrored their home time?
What luck the both of them have.
Speaking of luck, their ability to locate trouble doesn't fail them as the corner they turn to makes them witness to a blue individual with pink horns shouting after a cackling group that runs, leaving behind colorful cans.
"It is on sight when I see you lot again! On sight!" The blue one yelled loud and full of spite, shaking one balled up hand after their disappearing figures. There's a scowl on their face as they turn to look up at the blue wall that's freshly defaced with graffiti of way too stylized names and other obscenities. "Ugh, this is going to be a pain to clean up… Couldn't they have picked literally anything else as graffiti? I wouldn't complain as much if it was cute at least."
They agree. This was just plain tacky and ugly. Garish with not a single color to match the wall's already pretty color.
"Gah! How long have you been standing there?" The poor worker startled when their presence is finally noticed.
They have the decency to give a little apologetic bow of their head.
There's an awkward beat of silence that passes before the worker decides to speak up, "Ah, if you're a customer, just come inside. I'll be with you in a short moment, just as soon as I figure out how to clean this up. Or at least, cover it up."
Based on past experiences, a short moment usually translates to however long it takes for the problem to be resolved by them. Not entirely unwelcomed, they were starting to feel a little restless with their aimless wanderings anyway.
They stare at the vandalized wall with a contemplative look. It's not exactly a small canvas on an easel, but anything was technically a canvas, right? It didn't stop those taggers from treating it as such anyway.
Pulling out the Paintball Gun from their inventory, they give the worker a little tap on the shoulder and once the attention has been drawn, held up the Paint Gun invitingly.
"Huh? You want to paint over the wall?" The worker frowns at their nod, lips pursing in a pensive manner as they glance back at the shop that's filled with chatters of customers, "I guess… You're not planning to replace it with more graffiti, are you?"
They shake their head.
The worker seems to lighten up a bit and holds up a finger sternly, "Mm… Okay, in that case, you can. But only in the same color as the wall! Or at least roughly the same color." There's a beat as the worker looks at the Paintball Gun, "Do you need to buy the paint? Because-"
They shake their head again. Inexplicably, the Paintball Gun would always have the right colors needed for the job, even a mime's request for the Mona Lisa. They chalked it up to Opticus enchanting the tool in some way before handing it to them. Opticus was a wizard afterall.
The worker brightens considerably at this. "Okay. Okay, thank you so much. I'll come check on you again when I can-" They glance at the shop again when someone called out for a staff, and back away towards the door, "Or better yet, come inside and speak to me when you're done. I'll ask my brothers about a suitable payment if you do it right."
And with that, they rush back inside to deal with their customers.
That suited them just fine. They liked to work alone for painting anyway.
Positioning themself at the center of the vandalized wall for maximum range and view of the chosen canvas, they raise the Paintball Gun and pull the trigger.
They missed this a little. Painting wasn't exactly their usual tool - the pencil and eraser was much more affordable and gentler with mistakes - but the whimsical joy of creation was always appreciated. Not even Hatred mocking them with the title of creator could stamp that out entirely.
Click. Splat. Click. Splat. Click. Splat. Click. Splat.
It was a little troublesome to find the right hue of blue to fit the wall. Also, a little dull to be honest. Even Trinity had runes for them to paint in order to progress through the city. Cassie had been very delighted to explain each design, though they sometimes wonder if it was so the girl wouldn't feel too awkward or lonely standing there while they painted.
They can appreciate having a bigger canvas to work with at least.
Honestly, these graffitists had no taste. Stylized texts were good, but not so overly angled to the point that you could barely even read the letters. That was just messy. An icon would've left a better mark. Like a white cat. Maybe some paw prints too. White and blue was a good color combination anyway.
"Hey!"
They kind of miss petting cats. They haven't petted one since being flung to 2010. The closest they ever got to petting an animal was the turtles and while it did sate the curiosity for a while, there was always the desire to pet something soft.
"Helloooo? Inpherno to inphernal!?"
Round and rotund. Maximum squish. Gods, what one would not do to be subjected to toe beans.
Someone puts an entire hand on their shoulder and they nearly smack an unfortunate worker with the Paintball Gun. The flash of pink is the only thing that stopped them, fear of hitting Kyoko overriding violent instincts.
Thankfully, they did not hit 'Kyoko'.
"Sorry! You weren't- Well, I noticed you hadn't come inside after a long while and I did try to call out to you a bunch of times." The pink horned worker spoke with a mix of sheepishness and certainty, "How long does it take to paint a… Wall…?"
They look back to the freshly painted wall and winced. What was meant to be a simple blue wall to replace the graffiti was now adorned with a short trail of paw prints that lead up to a rotund beast of white. An absolute unit.
Apparently they missed drawing so much they zoned out from having a big canvas with zero restriction on the end goal. This was probably worse than giving Kitchen Chef the wrong red bottle, because at least that incident was contained locally to the kitchen. Their mistake is huge and easy visible to any potential customers who wanted to stop by this shop.
They prepare themselves for being yelled at for their incorrigible mistake-
"This is really cute??? Hang on, stay right there- Slingshot, come outside!" The worker called out loudly.
There's a moment of tense silence as another worker garbed in blue - entirely in blue, now that they're observing the approaching newcomer - who slows their stride as they gaze upon the Mistake.
"I- What is happening? Happened? What is- Vine, what happened to the wall?" Slingshot gestured at the painted wall in bewilderment.
"Some Inphernals came around a while back and tagged the cafe with graffiti while we were in the evening rush. I was gonna clean it up but they," Vine gestured at them, "Offered to fix it up. I did ask them to just repaint it blue like it was before, but this is too cute to clean off."
They blushed a little at the compliment. It wasn't that cute, right?
"… You're not wrong." Slingshot agreed with another glance at the painted wall. "Still, you could've told me earlier when the rush ended?"
"Yeah but what's done is done." Vine shrugged with a beaming face, "So, can we keep it?"
"Fine. Yeah. Luckily it fits the cafe's look anyway." Slingshot approved with a nod and turned to face them, "How long did you work on this?"
They wiggle their hands in an uncertain manner. It's not like they had a watch on hand or any other method of time observation except for the setting sun, which wasn't great at obtaining the exact time either.
"Two hours." Vine filled in helpfully, which seems to be enough for Slingshot to walk back into the cafe before coming back out to deposit a handful of Bux into their hand. It's considerably bulkier than the amount Zuka gave them.
They try not to stare at their hand's occupant. This much for a painted doodle they made in an art deprived stupor?
Slingshot and Vine give their thanks to them once more before disappearing back inside the cafe. A shame that the cafe was in the middle of closing, and they didn't want to be that one customer who puts a huge order at the end of a shift.
They'll come back another time. It was getting dark anyway and they needed to trace their steps back to Zuka's shop.
'Jon' returns to the family at exactly seven-thirty, without the name tag sticker. Rocket is in the middle of trying to busy himself with tinkering one of the artificial gears marked for repairs, while also spying on 'Jon'. Sword sits besides him, having informed his mentor of his late return to home in favor of being Rocket's moral support.
"Welcome back." Zuka greets 'Jon' with an awkward grunt that is received by 'Jon's usual silence, "Dinner will be ready in a bit."
"They're weird." Sword comments quietly, just within Rocket's earshot.
"Yeah?" Rocket hums as he tightens a bolt, thinks about it before loosening up the bolt again with the wrench.
"I dunno. Do you get a weird feeling?" Sword continues on with a sigh in his words, chin resting on his hand.
"If by weird feeling you mean doubts, then yeah. But you heard my dad." Rocket fumbles with re-orienting the bolt and attempts to tighten it properly this time. "They'll stick around for a day and probably head off somewhere. Why? Do they give you a different weird sense?"
"Kinda? Maybe?" Rocket looks at his friend's muddled expression that only shows itself when Sword is really thinking hard.
100% usage of whatever brain cell is left in the melee Phighter's head. Either that or Sword's uncanny sense for unspoken baggage.
The mechanic stops his tinkering for a moment. "Is that meant to be a good or bad thing?"
Sword throws up his hands in a very lost shrug and looks away immediately when 'Jon' glances over at the duo.
All Sword knows is that whenever they look at 'Jon', it feels like he's greeting a member of his estranged family.
Then in a surprising turn of events, 'Jon' approaches them. They stare intently at the artificial gear being tended to by Rocket, who bristles at the newfound attention.
"What?" Rocket nearly spits out, brows furrowing when 'Jon' gestured at the weapon in his lap, "Oh. It's just a laser guided launcher. Or at least, supposed to be." He grumbled as he lowers the screwdriver in hand.
'Jon' seemed to be thinking over something before in another casual act of violation of physic, pull out an entire launcher from behind them. Rocket nearly dropped the laser guided launcher and instinctively summons his own-
'Jon' holds the launcher out to Rocket with their two hands, beckoning for the Inphernal to take a look.
Rocket glowered at 'Jon' for the unwanted scare. "You need to give a guy warning before pulling out your gear on him! Also, I'm busy looking at another launcher already?" He gestured obviously to the launcher on his lap.
"Oh hey, Rocket, their gear is a rocket launcher like yours!" Sword grinned at his friend, earning a flat glare from Rocket, and oddly enough, a strange frown from 'Jon' followed by a shake of their head, "It's not? It's an artificial gear? What's your gear then?"
'Jon' looks back at Zuka who's still waiting for the rice to finish steaming before deciding to indulge with Sword's curiosity. The launcher is set down on the floor gently before 'Jon' begins to pull out their gear. Or gears rather, as Sword and Rocket bore witness to 'Jon's plethora of tools.
A Classic Brigand sword.
A Slingshot.
A Paintball Gun.
A pair of Rocket Boots.
"Dude, what-"
A stick of Dynamite.
A white version of the Superball.
"Um-"
Some greyish bottle.
Another bottle that had… a ship inside it?
"Hey-?"
A shovel.
"Kids, put away the weapons. It's dinner time." Zuka's gruff voice is the only thing that stops 'Jon' from pulling out a suspiciously bright blue dagger from their back, before they sweep all of their tools back into whatever hole they store their gears in and ditch a flabbergasted Rocket and Sword in favour for dinner.
Rocket just remembers to put the laser guided launcher on the coffee table before running up to his dad, "Dad, are you sure they're just a part time worker and not a secret regular customer of yours?"
Zuka takes a moment to stop and consider. Well, they weren't technically a regular of his shop.
"Positive. Now sit down and eat. That means you too by the way. Don't put dinner in your pocket." Zuka grunts as he takes his seat next to 'Jon' and spares a look at them. "You look like you had fun."
'Jon' mimes pulling the trigger of a rifle to Zuka, and Rocket wonders if 'Jon' had committed murder somewhere in Crossroads.
"What the fuck." Rocket nearly startles upon seeing 'Jon' at the table in the next morning, poking at the cereal in a bowl.
Slapped on their chest was the same dumb sticker with a nameplate that reads:
Hello! My name is:
___your mom___
Rocket feels like he's having a stroke. They look back at him with the serene and grace of a civilized inphernal who did not just fucking call themselves that.
At least the Broker made more sense and that was saying something.
The first thing Rocket says when he sits down with his own bowl of cereal is, "Change your fucking name."
'your mom' thinks about it, considers Rocket's words before deciding to snort in response and eats a spoon of crunchy cereal. Request denied, the gesture tells Rocket.
"No, seriously. You're just asking to get mugged with that." Rocket chuffed at the unwanted guest, pointing at the incriminating sticker with his spoon. "And if you get attention, you'll bring trouble to dad's shop and I will kill you if you do that."
The threat slipped out instinctively. Zuka's guest blinked in response, letting a beat of silence pass over before they have the audacity to look offended at Rocket. Oh goodie, at least it was better than the apathetic gaze Rocket got yesterday.
"Don't test me. Dad might be fine with you but I'm not." He sneered at them with all of his teeth.
Their head tilts almost owlishly at Rocket's show of intimidation and of course, for a briefest moment, an upward twitch of their lips. Amusement.
This asshole was actually looking down at them.
Rocket briefly wonders if it's too early in the morning for violence and nearly concludes to himself that it's never too early for crimes when Zuka walked down the stairs, scratching at his hips. Somehow the father always seemed to appear when Rocket was about to fight someone. The sudden show of care that's being directed to someone else does not fail to stab Rocket with new doubts.
"Everybody behaving?" The father yawned out grouchily as cabinets are opened for Zuka to prep his own breakfast. The silence the two gave Zuka seemed to be good enough for him as he continued over the instant coffee machine's rumble, "I need you two to help deliver Medkit's package."
"Why us both?" Rocket asked with mild surprise and a little bit of irritation, "Can't he come over to the shop like usual?"
"I met up with Medkit yesterday at the supermarket and he mentioned that he was going to be too busy to stop by. I got some package comin' in today so it's better if we get Medkit's box out of the way or else I might mix 'em up with the others." Zuka answered back easily, drumming his fingers against the counter top as he waited for the coffee machine to finish filling his mug.
"… Okay but why do they need to come with me?" Rocket is definitely whining at this point, jabbing a thumb at 'your mom' who is in the process of trying to put the bowl of cereal in their pocket. Sue him.
The coffee signals its completed task with a tinny beep as Zuka purses his lips for a moment before deciding on, "They could do some more sightseeing around Crossroad… And I trust you to keep them out of trouble."
Wow. Okay. That was a dirty tactic from his old man, but Rocket could respect that.
"Of course I can. I keep Sword out of trouble." Rocket puffs up a little at the indirect praise, proud of his achievement at containing the unstoppable force that was his best friend with a success rate of 75%.
The other 25% is when Rocket decides to join Sword.
Zuka smiled at his son before shifting his attention back to his guest, smile immediately melting into an unimpressed frown upon finally noticing today's choice of name. His part time worker shook with a silent snicker like an immature teenager, clearly pleased with the reaction garnered.
Zuka took a sip of his coffee, then with an exhale of steam followed by the sigh of an exhausted father figure, "Change your name."
Literally the same shit Rocket had been telling them but unlike with Rocket, they had more respect for the shopkeeper to peel the sticker off with only an exasperated huff, much to Rocket's petty validation. Then proceeded to pull out a black marker and an entire sheet of the trashy name tag sticker from nowhere, and put those on the table. Two slots had been used out of the dozen.
"Please use a conventional name. I've told you what the naming convention here is like, and I can assure you that 'Jon' is already considered odd." Zuka said, having already reached his tolerance for morning shenanigans. "Hell, you could probably use it again."
Funnily enough, they shook their head, lips flattening in a disgruntled look. Apparently they already tired of 'Jon' and wanted something new. Fair enough, Rocket thought 'Jon' was a dumb name anyway.
Rocket wondered if they were having some identity crisis or something. It was the only thing that explained the large number of artificial gears they carried. Rocket knew of Inphernals who weren't happy with the gear they were born with - they were some of Da Shop's best customers - but those fellows usually ordered one or two artificial gear at most.
The part time worker tapped their index finger against the table's surface, bouncing the marker between two fingers to accompany their tapping finger.
"Why don't you just call yourself 'dumbass' and call it a day?" Rocket snarked with a grin.
"I didn't think you actually would that." Rocket said, still choked between wheezing laughter and teasing snickers as the part time worker followed behind him.
Stuck proudly on their shirt - the same one they wore yesterday, mind you - was the name tag sticker that read:
Hello! My name is:
_DUMBASSHORNYEPICGAMERXDAPPLE
The 'E' was half cut off at the edge.
Zuka had the slightest smile that betrayed his actual thoughts before sternly reprimanding them to put in an actual name, and only sending the two onto the impromptu delivery when they stopped suggesting stupid names.
May 'dumbass' rest in peace.
To be honest, Rocket doesn't know why they chose an apple of all things as a name. He doesn't recall seeing the fruit among their artificial gears either. Whatever, not his problem anymore.
"You've probably seen it but the Crossroads tower is at the center of Crossroads - I didn't choose the name - and it's basically a landmark. So I guess if you're ever lost, just look for that. It's impossible to miss." Rocket said as they take the left to leave the commercial area, head tilted to the direction of the central plaza since his hands are occupied with holding onto Medkit's package.
He doesn't trust 'Apple' to drop it or ward off potential thieves. Crossroad wasn't as bad as Playground when it came to muggings and hijacking frequency, but it didn't mean that it was a safe haven from that. Plus, Rocket has his two reputations of being an official Phighter and association with Zuka, and those two usually helped refrain other Inphernals from starting shit with him.
To absolutely nobody's surprise, 'Apple' is terrible at small talk. All they do is nod and listen to Rocket's halfhearted tips about the basics of Crossroads like the three layers of the city ("We're on the top layer so I guess you could say it's high class,"), and which roads led to what area ("If you follow up this road, it'll take you to Blackrock- Why are you looking at me like that?").
It really didn't take long for the pair to get stuck in awkward uncomfortable silence. Rocket already hated the moment, usually Sword spoke enough between the two to make any moments tolerable.
He was half expecting some trouble to show up during the package delivery or at least some sort of hiccup.
Halfway to Medkit's apartment, there was indeed a hiccup but not for the reason Rocket thought would be the cause. Well, sort of. Rocket had only looked back to check if 'Apple' was lagging behind, only to see the part time worker nowhere in sight.
"Wha- Where the hell did you go-?" Rocket sputtered but he locates 'Apple' pretty quickly not too far away.
They're standing next to a small, sniffling infernal on a bench. At least Rocket doesn't have to go on a wild goose chase.
"Dude, you can't just wander off like that." He sighed as he approached the two.
The kid sniffs and looks up with watery eyes, pink eyes blinking as they stare back at Rocket. "Y—Y—You're Rocket…!"
"Yup, that's me." Rocket nodded, lips curled into his toothy smile at the recognition and also to try settle down the crying child. If that kid so much as starts breaking into a blubbering mess, he's screwed. "What's got you down?"
To Rocket's relief, the kid does not break down into more crying. Hopefully because they were awed by being in the vicinity of a well known Phighter.
"Mo-Mom gave me this pre-pretty necklace bu-but told me not to wea-wear it outside yet, but I wanted to…!" The kid hiccuped between rubbing their eyes and snot with their arm, and pointed up at a high corner of a ridged building. "But the-then a stupid bird took it from me and dropped it up there! And I ca-can't climb up there because it's too high!"
Rocket clicks his tongue. He could probably do a Lift Off, but it wouldn't be enough to scale the building - at least two of it would be needed. Not to mention, he happens to be carrying important cargo.
"Sh- Darn. Okay. Jo- Apple, you got any idea- Apple? Jon?" Rocket had taken his eyes off the damn part time worker for one second and the fucker was walking away.
Rude?
Ten seconds later, it turns out 'Apple' was not ditching them as initially assumed.
Instead Rocket watched with disbelief as the weirdo started climbing on the wall like a monkey, occasionally using a few ventilation fans bolted to the building's exterior as stepping stones.
They alternate between two buildings for their ascent, and Rocket catches a spark of fire under their shoes - he remembered seeing those shoes last night - that carries them in the air for a few second. It reminds Rocket of Slingshot's air steps a bit.
It was like watching an acrobatic's dream of parkour mixed with frankly impossible wall climbing skills. Really, how were they gripping onto bricks?
It takes an impressive few minutes for 'Apple' to reach the same height as the corner pointed out by the kid. Sure enough, there was something shiny up there that glinted from the sunlight, but 'Apple' was on the opposite building.
Rocket considered shouting an idea or something for 'Apple' but that thought swiftly gets shut down when 'Apple' takes out a white ball, lobs it at the shiny item, and catches the ball when it bounces back to them. Then as if mission accomplished, they proceeded to step off the ledge and dropped all the way down to the ground.
There wasn't even a crash or splat when they hit the concrete.
"What the hell-!" Rocket exclaimed, half with worry and anger, "Dude, are you alright!? Why the hell did you do that?"
'Apple' waves him off dismissively, earning an internal 'fuck you too' from Rocket, as they straighten up with none the worse for wear to their knees or even their entire body. Then with the power of black magic, holds out their hand that now held a shiny pendant.
What.
Rocket didn't even see them grab the thing. If anything, he saw them knock the item further into the wall by throwing their ball at it-
Just what.
Huh?
'Apple' pays zero regards to Rocket's visible confusion as they lower their hand for the newspawn to grab it from their palm.
"Thank you, thank you!" The kid squealed happily, mouth breaking into a wide smile that makes up for their earlier tears, and they promptly put the necklace over their head so the jewellery will sit nice and safe at their neck. "I was gonna buy some candies with this, but you can have it instead, since you got my necklace back."
The kid dug into their short's pockets for a second before pulling out five Bux, and deposits them onto 'Apple's hands.
"Bye Rocket! Bye mister!" They grinned toothily and scurried into one of the residential buildings.
'Apple' takes a few second to tuck the acquired Bux into their pocket, then wipe their hands on their pants to clean off the lingering snot.
"… Nice work." Rocket relented and adjusted his grip on Medkit's package, "Now can we get going? My arms are killing me."
Thankfully and blessedly, there is no more distraction on the way to Medkit's apartment. Rocket had 'Apple' knock on Medkit's door since his hands were very much occupied.
"Rocket." Medkit greeted him politely and takes a moment to realize that he has extra company. "… This is?"
Rocket glanced at 'Apple' who's pressing their face against the corridor's window, then back at Medkit. "The new part time worker."
"… I was not aware Zuka was hiring part time workers." Medkit said slowly.
"Me neither. They just started yesterday." Rocket elaborated helpfully and adjusted his grip on the parcel, "Can I put this down already? This shit is heavy."
"If you don't mind dropping it inside my apartment. I can handle it from there." Medkit said though he gives 'Apple' an uncomfortable look.
Rocket picked up on that easily and decided to fix the issue for the healer, "Stay outside. I'll be back in a second. Seriously, don't go anywhere." Rocket said and followed Medkit into the latter's apartment.
The rest after that was very uneventful, thankfully. Medkit was not particularly talkative outside of business and Sword, so Rocket didn't have to do more awkward small talks. 'Apple' stood in the same place by the time Rocket dropped off the package inside Medkit's apartment, received the extra payment and exited the healer's home.
"Ugggghhhh." Rocket groaned once they were back in Da Shop, sprawling himself across the counter
"Welcome back." Zuka grunted back in greeting, putting down the newspaper that was probably a few days old, "Any trouble?"
"Nah. Except your 'part time worker' is a monkey in disguise." His son said, straightening himself back to standing up. "Also I'm pretty sure they don't have any bones in their legs because they jumped off a building ledge, and Medkit didn't even need to take a look at them when we got to his place."
Zuka thinks back to the memories of sand when he saw them front flipping through the air for no reason and refusing to use the stairs like a normal inphernal. "That checks out."
To this day, Zuka still doesn't know if it was a normal thing to do in that desert village, or if it was just the part time worker being quirky like that.
"I can look after the shop today. It's been quiet the whole time, and I got some new orders to work on anyway." Zuka said after he handed each their share of the delivery fee payment.
"Cool. Bye." Rocket said and promptly walked off to the direction of their home.
The other one lingered near Zuka, bored and aloof. No, rather on closer look, they looked… Very indecisive. A little overwhelmed, but not to the extent when he first found them in the city. It was a little odd to see them so directionless when Zuka had only ever seen them moved with purpose before.
Granted, it's been a long while since Zuka had seen them. He's still a little surprised they recognize him enough to follow behind him. Trusting that the destination was of safety.
Kind of like when he took in Rocket.
Hm.
"Hey, how are you holding up?" Zuka asked gruffly, only continuing when they blink back at him in acknowledgement to his voice, "I hope Rocket helped ease you into Crossroad, even though it's only been two days. It can't be easy being somewhere even more further from home."
The huff he received is telling of their agreement. Still, they didn't react any further or provide a follow up response about Rocket. Seems like they enjoyed his son's company if they weren't covered in bruises or tapping their fingers against the counter in quick rhythm.
Never had Zuka seen anyone glare at grapes with as much vitriol as they did.
"Nobody give you any trouble for the horns?" Zuka pressed, and breathed a sigh of relief when they shake their head, tipping their hat at the inphernal to show the very weak 'disguise'.
Not really much of a disguise when it was part of their everyday attire. Honestly, how have they not been caught yet?
Zuka did consider making a pair of fake horns to get them to wear. The only reason he hadn't done so was because there was no knowing how long were they going to stick around. If it was anything like Zuka's temporary stay, it was probably going to be a week at most before the unnamed Forces That Be sucked them back into wherever they were before.
Hopefully by then, even if someone took interest in them, they would be long gone.
Eventually, Zuka offers an idea, "If you're really want something to do, how about you get some ingredients for tonight's dinner? You got Bux now and Rocket's probably showed you where the supermarket is. Surprise us."
That seemed agreeable enough for them. They've been meaning to repay Zuka back somehow anyway, even in the smallest ways. Something was better than nothing, as Kyoko would tell them.
The supermarket had a lot of things, as all shops of its type would. Grains, fruits, vegetables, drinks, meat - you name it. Anything you'd ever want for breakfast, lunch, tea or dinner.
… Which came to the awkward part.
Namely, they haven't cooked for a long time. Why bother when Ghost Chef was happy to do the cooking for them, as long as they provided the one or two ingredient?
There was also the fact that they didn't have a kitchen, or a home for that matter. That problem was still in discussion with their companions, slotted for after their talk about lingering in the Pits for an unhealthy amount of time.
(There is no such thing as being in the Pits for too long and you will die in that depth like you deserve-)
Hm. Would it be very funny if they suggested APPLE PIE for dinner?
Surely that was something to be consumed for that meal time. They've watched Ghost Chef a few time while he was at work. It couldn't be that difficult to replicate some of his steps, surely.
"Are you going to buy something?" The cashier said to them with increasing impatience.
The complaint is heeded with no care, in favor of a more pressing issue. They don't see PIE available, which puts a dent in the whole idea of bringing an APPLE PIE to Zuka's home.
Darn, guess no APPLE PIE for the night.
What could they get for Zuka and Rocket to eat for the night?
Zuka had specified ingredients so it's not like they could go buy takeouts. They don't know many dishes off by heart that was considered dinner food and could be made without PIE, RICE-
No, they remember now. Zuka had RICE at his home. They just need to find an EEL to make UNADON.
Oh yes, a plan was coming together. Unfortunately, a new problem became relevant in that the supermarket does not sell EEL.
It was a bit of a far shot, to be fair. Their experience with obtaining EEL was by fishing, and if the supermarket didn't have what they needed, then the only method they knew would have to work.
"… Eh? Do we sell fishing rods and worms?"
Paint Spray usually didn't go for evening snack runs. Mx Bot had been talking about a new snack brand that's captured their taste buds, and Paint Spray only had so much patience before their curiosity for it won over.
"That will be twenty five Bux." The cashier intoned blandly, probably having been saying the same or similar sort of statement over a thousand time by today.
To match the cashier's vibe, Paint Spray wordlessly hands over the requested Bux and takes ahold of the bag that crinkles against their fingers. He's honestly a bit tempted to open the bag now and eat it himself, but was that worth Mx Bot's whining?
A conundrum indeed.
Sentimentality for their friend(?) won out in the end as Paint Spray made their way to their usual hangout. Their steps gradually slowed down out of wariness as Paint Spray spotted Mx Bot, as well as a few other Inphernals. Playgrounders, based on their looks.
"Oh hey, Spray! Guys, this is Paint Spray, the guy I was telling you guys about. Best artist in this side of Crossroad." Mx Bot grinned at the strangers as he waved an arm at the Paint Spray.
"Heeeeey Bot. Who are… these guys?" Paint Spray gestured at the Playgrounders with furrowed brows, snack bag forgotten in hand.
Something about them makes Paint Spray feel uncomfortable. Granted, he felt that way whenever confronted by anyone he didn't know, but the vibes he is getting from them do be rank.
"They're artists like you, Spray! They've been looking to leave their marks on Crossroad too, like how you and Graffiti do." Mx Bot said cheerfully, looking back and forth between his friend and the Playgrounders.
"Really." The statement came off a little flatter than intended from Paint Spray, and he does his best not to flinch at the teethy smirks from the Playgrounders.
"Aw, you know how it is in Playground. Not 'nough room around to really make yourselves known, so why not Crossroads? It's plenty big enough for us all, right?" One of them drawled in a manner that sent even more shivers down Paint Spray's spine.
"Besides, Mx Bot here told us about a certain fella who's been needing to checked on. What's the name again? Trap pick?" Another said, finger tapping against chin in faux thought.
Paint Spray has the distinct impression that the 'check on' activity they speak of isn't the kind that him and Bot tend to do, and opened his mouth to get them to hopefully forget about Traffic. Unfortunately Mx Bot beats him to the punch.
"You mean Traffic! Yeah, we're nemesis." Mx Bot unhelpfully clarified with a delighted cackle, "And I got a great plan that'll ruin his day. I was thinking we fill some of these balloons up with paint and throw them at his shop. So he'll be forced to spend the rest of his week to fix it up."
"… That's all?"
Mx Bot faltered a little bit at the unimpressed looks from his fellow Playgrounders, "I-I mean, of course that's not all!" He flailed a little bit to maintain what image of a cool villain he had left, "The plan is to… The plan is to also leave an entire dumpster's worth of garbage around his shop too. That way, he won't get customers for a while and it'll ruin his day too!"
"And?" The Playgrounders jabbed at Mx Bot with continued flat stares.
"What do you mean 'and'?" Mx Bot sputtered with mild disbelief.
"That's newspawn stuff, man." The biggest of the inphernals jeered, accompanied by her fellows chiming in with 'Yeah!' on cue, "You really want to be a villain, right?"
Mx Bot fidgeted on the spot for a moment before nodding with an uncharacteristically quiet, "Yeah."
"Here's a little lesson in trickery," The largest swung their arm around Mx Bot's neck to pull him closer to their group, away from Paint Spray's concerned face, "If you really want to be a villain, you gotta put a real mark on the world. None of that petty, baby stuff-"
"Baby?" Mx Bot croaked a little, insulted.
"-you gotta step up your game. You need to be a real pain in the ass." The Playgrounder continued on, hands on Mx Bot's shoulders to coax him a little further away, "You want to ruin his day? Then you oughta set his shop on fire."
Both Mx Bot and Paint Spray froze. The latter glanced nervously at his friend. Surely not?
"That sounds… Kind of excessive, don't you think?" Mx Bot said hesitantly. "The garbage would ruin his day enough. He'd have to smell it for a bunch of days."
"Yeah, but why smell garbage when he could be smelling smoke?" The inphernal grinned, one hand splayed out with a small burst of light - a Fuse Bomb now in their palm.
"I…"
"Don't tell us that you're chickening out now?" One of them accused suspiciously, leaning in closer to Mx Bot to unnerve him more, "What happened to being the top villain around? Was that all talk?"
"Of course it wasn't!" The box covered inphernal sputtered defensively.
Well, that would explain the conversation's direction to pyrotechnics. A little stereotypical, but Paint Spray was currently more preoccupied with the fact that Mx Bot was very not up for this level of villainy.
Paint Spray was, as much as they didn't want to admit to it, a pushover. It was largely the reason why they went along with Mx Bot's antics despite the latter's obsession with being Crossroad's number one villain while simultaneously being the most harmless inphernal around. It really didn't take long for Paint Spray to succumb to the friendship of Mx Bot despite Paint Buckét's disapproval of Mx Bot.
Point is, Mx Bot was a very harmless guy. Annoying, yes. Irrational and fixated on ruining Traffic's day? Very much so. But malicious to the point of property damage via arson?
Not at all.
This would be the best time for a certain heroic character to show up, to prevent the more severe vandalism from occurring, and to save the two inphernals from being strong armed into gang activities.
Unfortunately, there were two issues with that; Paint Spray was not exactly strong, neither was Mx Bot and the Playgrounders were frankly built like trucks that could probably beat the artist and villain-in-making to a pulp.
But Paint Spray was a loyal friend to Mx Bot, and that was enough to power his courage to raise his voice. Just a little of course. "W-Wait!"
Paint Spray did his best not to wilt on the spot when everyone's head turned to face him with varying degrees of surprise and curiosity.
"I… Was thinking." Paint Spray started, face heating up the more he dug himself into this hole, "That- Er… We could still fill the balloons with something flammable. So the… Fire could spread…?"
Mx Bot shot Paint Spray a look of baffled confusion while the other Playgrounders grinned. "And here we thought only one of us was gonna give the good ideas. Paint Spray, was it?"
Paint Spray hesitated before nodding slowly.
"Mx Bot sure was right about you. Top artist around in the Crossroads." The largest guffawed, thankfully releasing Mx Bot from their hold who promptly marched over to Paint Spray.
"Y-Yeah, he is! I'm just gonna talk about, uh, evil stuff! To fill the balloons with!" Mx Bot said hastily as he leaned in close to whisper to Paint Spray, tone thick with uncertainty, "Spray, are you sure you wanna do this?"
"Not really. But I didn't want to run away without you." Paint Spray muttered back, looking every bit uncomfortable as Mx Bot did.
The box covered inphernal heaved out a sigh relief since at least he wasn't alone with the sentiment, "Should we make a break for it?"
Paint Spray thought about it. "… Can we even outrun them?"
"We're in home turf! We can probably lose them." Mx Bot said confidently.
One step. Two step. Slowly the duo crept away from the Playgrounders until one of them noticed how conveniently far away the two inphernals were.
"Hey, wait. Where are you two going?"
"Run!" Mx Bot shrieked, immediately breaking into a sprint with Paint Spray throwing the snack bag at the second smallest Playgrounder's face to delay them a little before following close behind Mx Bot.
Paint Spray's lungs burned with exertion as they sped through the streets and alleys, pursued by the Playgrounders who probably wanted them dead before they could spill the beans to the police force or someone.
Mx Bot nearly body slammed a poor inphernal emerging from a corner, the latter just barely managing to step out of the way in time without dropping the eel(?) in their hand. Paint Spray had to leap over them just so he wouldn't trip.
"Sorry!" He yelled over his shoulder, dragging Paint Spray to take a sharp turn into another alley.
The poor inphernal stood up with a baffled look right as the Playgrounders arrived, panting and snarling.
"Get outta the way! Or we'll make you!" The smallest snapped.
The inphernal blinked at the Playgrounders before promptly exchanging the eel for their Launcher.
Rocket had been playing video games when the part time worker returned much later after the delivery task.
"Welcome back. Dad said you were getting dinner?" His fingers hit the menu button on the controller so he could safely turn his head around to see what the other had brought.
They turned at Rocket in acknowledgement and then promptly dug out an entire eel from their pocket, and deposited that on the table. The eel was still wiggling, fresh and alive, and filling the apartment with the smell of the water surrounding Crossroad.
Rocket stared, then raised a finger.
"I'm pretty sure the supermarket doesn't even sell eels?"
They nodded most seriously in agreement, proud of themself at completing the daunting task. Getting a fresh eel in Crossroads was not something Rocket knew that could be done. Not as in it was impossible, just that it was expensive as per usual seafood price and also most seafood would not be moving by the time it gets home, and now Rocket is worried that the idiot splurged their money just for pricey food.
"Where did you even get this?" Rocket's question is answered by the other extracting an entire fishing rod from their pocket which just raises even more question but he doubts he'll get a proper answer, "… Well, now I don't feel bad anymore."
On the bright side, Rocket got to witness the part time worker skipping several steps of cooking the eel to combine it with rice obtained from the pantry. The biggest offense of dinner was that somehow, they managed to pull out an entire shark from their pocket, then proceed to fit said shark in the significantly smaller cooking pot.
It should not have been able to turn into soup that easily.
It wouldn't be the first time the Broker, well, broke into Zuka's home to crash in temporarily. Usually he's more polite about it and give Zuka a little heads up over the phone, especially when showing up at the crack of the witching hour.
He had been wandering around, awaiting a response from one of his sources when he had heard the panicked hissing of some no-name inphernals. The Broker was never one to ignore new information and had been more than happy to speak with the ruffled Playgrounders, all who were mysteriously flattened to the ground like graffiti.
The culprit: an inphernal that roamed the streets of Crossroads, yet bore no horns that was the sign of life for any mortals.
When pressed, the smallest of the Playgrounder was very adamant about their sightings being true, claiming that they had knocked its hat off to witness the disturbing mutation - or would that be considered as lack of?
With his new information in tow, Broker ditched the Playgrounders. It's not like he had the knowledge of prying flattened inphernals from the concrete, or had the interest.
A bit more nosying around until it was dark, and who would've thought that Zuka's own son, Rocket, had been sighted with an odd inphernal earlier during the day?
That just means that the Broker had a potential source of information that was conveniently very close by.
Naturally as the most devout of the Church and the Father, the Broker took it upon himself to look into the rumor more - just a simple confirmation of the inphernal's existence. Who knows, maybe he would find a new potential member for the family?
The door clicks shut behind the Broker as they idly spin the lock pick in his hand. Still got it, they think to themselves as their footsteps tap quietly throughout the empty living space-
The Broker barely steps back in time as steel slices through the air where he had just been standing, lips subconsciously curling into a bemused smile. The blade of the Brigand Sword glints in the dark, followed by another pair of footsteps.
There's a nick on his vest.
Hm. Earlier intel had suggested that Rocket's friend, Sword, would've already retreated to his home hours ago to follow a curfew if he ever stopped by, so there would be no reason for him to be here.
Zuka was much too old to stay awake at this time of night and the Broker knew for a fact that neither father or son had any inclination to use a blade, much less a melee gear of all things either.
A pair of eyes glare in the dark, barely illuminated by the moon peeking through the windows and the Broker concludes that he have found their target. How mean of Zuka to not bring up to his friend that he was harboring a target.
The Broker barely avoids the next swing of the Hornless' sword.
Well, the Broker knows when its time to call it quits and do a tactical retreat. Fighting in the dark of the living room just below where Zuka sleeps is not a good idea for anyone.
The Hornless thinks otherwise as they act after the Broker leans back in preparation for a smooth escape. They chase up to him like a unhinged rat, fingers clasped around a handle of something vaguely shaped like a pole before bringing up the flat metal end to deal a swift uppercut to the Broker's jaw.
A metallic 'BONK!' echoes loudly throughout the house as the Broker's world spins dizzily, his legs nearly tripping over each other.
What the hell?
He felt that?
… Wait a minute, is he concussed?
He didn't even know he could be concussed. Banhammer usually hits hard enough for his head to separate from his neck and fly away like a spectacular little football.
Nevertheless, the Broker cannot simply escape. He will need to weaken the Hornless or distract them enough to make his getaway. A shame that Scythe wasn't in Crossroads at the moment.
He pulled out his emergency gun and fired three time. With the racket they were making, the retired veteran and his rat of a son would probably come investigate and hopefully give Broker an opportunity to escape.
The first hits the Hornless, making them flinch away, but the other two miss as the Hornless held its two arms up in front of it to block the bullets. Logic dictates that method shouldn't have done anything since now the bullets were - or should be - embedded in its arms, but in the dark between the flashes of light from the gun, the Broker sees the bullets ricochet off their arms.
What.
The Broker fired off more shots while trying to keep his distance, with varying success. Whatever the Hornless was up to, it had figured some odd rhythm in the fight and most concerning, when to duck right as the bullets flew over its head, rendering the attack null. As if to mock him further, it even ate a bowl of crunchy cereal - where did it even come from? Why cereal of all things?! - right in front of him before running up to slash at him with its sword again.
He was really not made for sudden combat like this. Where was Scythe when you needed her-
Tssss…!
…
"Is that dynamite?" The Broker asked disbelievingly before a great explosion shattered the night's silence and a wall, filling his hearing with ringing as his body was blasted backwards.
Everything is sore and painful. He hasn't felt like this since his lowest point. This was bad, he needed to escape badly. The Broker desperately rifles through his vest for the emergency communicator, about to call in reinforcement or at least warn Father Overseer that he was going to be inconveniently unavailable for a while-
Bonk!
The light flicks on right at the moment as Rocket shouts an alarmed, "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!"
Probably because for the first in a while, he is not the source of the midnight explosion.
The part time worker slowly turned around to look at the two Inphernals who were halfway down the stairs - Rocket already had his gear out, chest heaving presumably from being the first to respond to the explosion that had disturbed his family's rest. Zuka is more interested in the teal body. He tried to choke something out but his mouth just flaps open and closed in sheer disbelief.
Rocket, ever the dutiful son, vocalizes his dad's thoughts.
"Is that the fucking Broker!?" Rocket wheezed out hysterically.
They slowly looked back at the hole they accidentally blew in the wall, some of the bricks and plaster still alight with small flames. The Broker's body is sprawled most unflattering on the floor, horns and clothes burnt and what looked like a sizable bump on his scalp.
They promptly hid the Shovel behind their back and point at the Broker's beaten body.
In all fairness, it was the Broker's fault for breaking and entering.