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Enjin is, admittedly, a bit intrigued when he finds the kid. Well, find is a strong word for it, when the kid had come flying at him through trash heaps, looking drawn out and pained and somehow determined.
It’s enough for Enjin to become curious, though he knows this isn’t the time for it, strapping a gas mask on him before the kid has time to argue. And argue he would, apparently far less concerned about their location or the tar in his lungs than Enjin. Asking demanding questions at increasing volume despite Enjin’s attempts to silence him, growing more aggravated with each ignored question until Enjin feels like strangling him.
It’s not as surprising as it maybe should be when he loses his temper, when the trash beasts hear them and come in like predators before prey. He’s prepared at least, Umbreaker sturdy in his hand like it always has been. Even with the anger burning at him right now, frustration with this strange Spherite child who can’t shut up, it doesn’t break way to fear or anxiety.
He might have been trying to lay low, to make it through without angering any of the beasts on his task, but he wouldn’t have come here if he didn’t feel confident defending himself.
So, when he feels satisfied in his yelling, the anger pushed out through his vocal chords and his head a touch clearer, he sets to what he does best. His job. Working his way through beast after beast while the child watches, seeming frozen to his spot as he takes in Enjin’s every movement, the glorious beauty of his Jinki in action.
(This kid is clearly from the Sphere, one way or another, Enjin reminds himself. He’s probably never seen a Jinki before in his life.)
The last beast is the worst, larger than the others and particularly angry looking, but he goes down just the same. Broken to pieces by Umbreaker like so many beasts before him, until Enjin is left standing in front of the boy; only the faint clatter of trash and the wind breaking up an almost startling silence. The kid looks shocked, but fine. Certainly more put together than most people would be after breathing in the putrid air around them for as long as he had. It manages to be impressive, even as he immediately sets into questions again.
Well, a question. At least this time it’s one he can answer, delivered at a reasonable volume even if unkindly, a request to introduce himself. (Or not, maybe that wasn’t what the kid had meant by his ‘who the hell are you?’ at all. Didn’t matter.)
So he does, confidently and smoothly, declaring himself a simple cleaner like someone far more humbled might. It doesn’t get the reaction he expects it to, brain reminding him that this kid definitely doesn’t know what a cleaner is, just as the stench of the air around them settles in. Fuck, he should’ve kept his mask on, he knew better but something about impressing this kid had felt important to him, whether or not he understood why.
He doesn’t get a chance to say more once he’s breathing filtered air again. To tell the kid what a cleaner is, or ask his name in turn, or any of the other basic pleasantries that meeting a new person surely calls for. Not that he had felt much like explaining in the moment, anyways, but the kid finds a way to not only take the choice away from him, but make his day notably harder than it already had been. Tipping to the side and going down like a sack of potatoes, body finally giving in to all the disgusting stimuli it had been exposed to today, eyes rolling back into his skull.
Enjin can’t help a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his mask as he considers the situation. Here he is, out in the wastelands like some fool for a task he can easily walk away from. Hell, he’s not even sure he remembers exactly what it was anymore, brain coming up dry when he tries to press it. He’s sure he’ll get an earful about it when he makes it back, if he doesn’t get enough of one for bringing the kid back already, and probably some horribly punishing task like cleaning the HQ toilets.
And why was he so casually thinking about bringing the kid back anyways? Sure, he had a Jinki, Enjin could have smelled it from a mile away even with a mask on his face, but he hasn’t activated it at all. Dumb kid probably doesn’t even know what he has, or what it’s capable of. Of course, Enjin didn’t know either, a frustrating fact of its own, but it wasn’t his Jinki to be clueless about.
No, bringing the kid back would be a headache. Having to train him to use something so dangerous, having to trust a spherite not to find a way to use it against them. It would be mountains of paperwork, and having to restructure someone’s team, and hours of lost mission time to make sure the kid wouldn’t up and die in his first encounter. He considers the boy again with a sigh, how peaceful he manages to look while asleep even when his body is slowly giving out. He remembers how expressive his eyes had been before they rolled back, how easy to read he was in his anger, his confusion, and what Enjin could only tentatively label as grief.
He couldn’t leave him here, he realises with a sigh. Where else would the kid even go, a god damned Spherite with no clue as to how things worked down here? Probably fed with a silver spoon and given everything he’d ever wanted, like every other person on that floating rock of filth. Down here they had trash around them, but up there the people themselves had become trash, raised to be nothing more than resource-sucking pretentious assholes like every generation before them.
(It wasn’t quite that simple, he knew. The kid clearly didn’t look like he was used to being entitled, holding his own even with his lungs exposed until Enjin had found him. Silver spoons didn’t lead to steel bones.)
But that was how others would see him if he left him here, to drag himself up and wander around. A brat, a waste of space, the personification of everything wrong with this world, shoved into such an unassumingly small stature. Worse yet, a valuable, something to steal and sell and break until he was no more human than the rusted metal around them, incapable of coherent thought. Human trafficking was frowned upon even here, as it certainly should be, but that didn’t stop it from existing. Didn’t stop him from seeing them here and there, in beat up trucks full of rope and duct tape and knives, searching for their next capture like rabid wolves.
This kid didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve to have his life stripped down for where he had happened to be born. He hadn’t chosen to come from the Sphere, and based on the looks of him the Sphere hadn’t deigned to keep him around either. He deserved as much of a chance as anyone else on the Ground to make a new life for himself, to find a place he belonged.
He couldn’t take him to an orphanage either, Enjin mulled, finally bending down to throw the boy over his shoulder. He was light, almost concerningly so with his height, but almost everyone down here was. He was young too, face still holding some semblance of innocence that could only be killed with age, even if every other trace of it had been bled out by other means. But he wasn’t a child, no respectable orphanage would take him even if he wasn’t an adult either. Old enough to be making his own way, feeding and clothing himself, finding ways to scrounge up money like everyone else in the eyes of the Ground. Not old enough to be left alone by anyone with a working conscience.
He considers briefly just dragging the kid by an ankle or tying something around him instead. He’s light for a teenager his height, but there’s still at least a hundred pounds of boy and clothes weighing down on his shoulder. It would be easier, but he ultimately shakes the idea off with a sigh, readjusting the kid. Hell knows what kind of injuries the kid had under his oversized sweater and gloves already, some filthy piece of metal on the ground giving him an infection would only make it worse. (And make the treatment costs worse, god forbid. Maybe he could sell the sweater?)
He holds the boy with one arm, habitually patting his pocket with the other for a cigarette. Of course, Enjin can’t smoke one here, even nicotine isn’t worth not wearing his mask for that long; but feeling the smooth cellophane around the pack under his fingers is comforting anyways. At least he can have one when they get out of here.
So, he muses as he sets off in slow even strides, boy slung over one shoulder and Umbreaker over the other. He can’t take the kid to an orphanage, they won’t take the brat. He can’t leave him here, that option already decidedly off the table for a multitude of reasons. The kid has a Jinki. All the math just points back to his initial conclusion, and he doesn’t bother hiding a deep groan of annoyance.
He’ll take him back to HQ.
Enjin expects the kid to stay out until they make it to the clinic, or the jeep at least where the air is clear enough again to pull the mask off his face. He’s seen enough people suffer from the air out here before. Too many deaths and chronic illnesses brought on by the filth of the Sphere, a few past cleaners who’d had to retire from excessive exposure even through their masks.
He’s never seen any of them come back from the point of passing out this quickly, or with this much energy. The kid is struggling as soon as consciousness even peeks into him, yelling to be let down and even more of his frustrating questions.
Enjin lets him drop immediately, not willing to take a shoulder injury for a kid's unnecessary tantrum. The boy lands on his side, yelping and scrambling for a moment before he manages to get his hands under him. Looking up at Enjin with eyes that would better suit an owl, practically growling under the mask Enjin had oh so kindly given him.
He’s off again within moments, ranting about how he’s going to get back like it's as easy as walking down a road. As though he hadn’t already fallen that great distance (and managed to survive it somehow), had seen how far it really was all for himself.
“Yeah, not possible, kid.” He launches into an explanation of his own, snarky in his ways, just to get the kid to shut up. Calling him stupid in everything but words for thinking he could go back, he was stuck on the Ground now just like the rest of them. He’d apparently still given away too much somehow, as the kid accused him of hiding things. Not even a thank you for his kind explanation as he demanded more, flinging out questions faster than Enjin could’ve answered them if he’d wanted to.
Then he launches into some crap about making people pay, the same kind of revenge-driven bullshit he’s heard a million times from a million faces. Loud and burning with anger the kid clearly had no idea how to manage, demanding anything he needed for his mission because in his mind his revenge was enough to excuse it. Then, with all the petulance of a grade schooler he proclaimed that he “wouldn’t stop asking until he got answers”. Fucking Spherites.
He groans behind his mask, and then rips the top off like he’s searching for fresh air where there is none. (This time at least, he has the presence of mind to not pull off the mouth piece.) “Jesus kid, you really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”
The boy scrunches his nose at the words, preparing to argue again, but Enjin just waves him off. “Listen, what’s your name?”
Another glare, and then, “Rudo.” Okay, so now he knows at least one thing about the kid, bending over a bit to look him right in the eyes.
“Alright Rudo, listen up. You wanna learn about the ground this bad, I’ll teach you. First lesson, shut the hell up until we get out of here. You can walk yourself, or I can carry you, or drag you if you prefer, but I am not continuing this crap until I have some breathable air and a fucking cigarette. Make sense?”
Rudo glowers, but keeps his mouth shut finally, crossing his arms over himself in that too-large sweater and stumbling to his feet. “Fine. You better actually fucking answer though.”
“Yeah sure kid, I’ll teach you all about living down here when we get back to town. C’mon, I’m not slowing down for you.”
He explains the basics when they’re in the Jeep and finally, blissfully, he’s lit his first cigarette of the evening like a man eating his first meal in days. The look that Rudo gives him for it only makes him laugh, before he teasingly blows a bit of smoke at the kid’s face. Rubo bats it away angrily, even though his gas mask is still on, grumbling something out about Enjin trying to kill him.
He explains what cleaners are, and about the jinki they use, and how they become what they are. Using simple words like he would explain it to a small child, but with a few snarky remarks thrown in just for flavour.
“Your gloves are too,” he explains, tapping his nose and then grabbing the steering wheel again. “You learn how to smell ‘em when you’re familiar enough. We’ll have to see what they do, if you’re good with them maybe you could join the Cleaners with us.”
“...I’d rather not.”
As if he had a choice at this point, already sitting in Enjin’s jeep like he belongs there, claimed by the man whether he realises it or not. He’ll be joining them.
Enjin just nods good-naturedly anyways, waving his hand lightly in the air. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say kid.”
The answers he’s given at least seem to satisfy the kid for now, knees tucked up in his seat as he turns over the new information in his head. He stays like that the rest of their drive, much to Enjin’s relief, and the closest town to where he’d parked the jeep isn’t too far to go anyways.
Getting him into the clinic is a little harder, the kid understandably distrustful of the situation, but they manage it. More importantly, Enjin manages to get the kid’s sweater when he takes it off under the doctor's order. Slipping out the back during his examination to a merchant’s shop down the road. Even better, the sweater turns out to be worth more than he expects once the owner believes it really, truly came from the Sphere.
He leaves with a handful of coins weighing down his pocket, a smile behind his cigarette now that he knows he won’t have to pay for the doctor. The kid is still a concern, but at least now he isn’t a costly one.
On the way back he calls Zanka, hand light around his collar as he breathes out a plume of smoke. “Yeah, yeah, found him out in No Mans. I’ll introduce you later, kay?”
There’s a sigh on the other end, before Zanka’s voice comes through, sounding tired with him already. “You’re bringing him back, aren’t you?”
Enjin hums like he hasn’t even considered it, an innocent man. “We’ll see, still need to see his Jinki first. Worried he’ll steal my attention?”
Zanka sputters, and he can imagine the blush on his face vividly, laughing loudly.
“Shut up, fine, bring the kid, whatever!” The call cuts out before he can say more, chuckling still as he pushes back through the clinic door. The doctor is still yelling, lecturing the kid about running around out in No Man’s Land, as loud and exuberant as ever. She kicks them out as soon as she’s done, taking the money Enjin gives her like it’s dirty- and it probably is. Her voice follows them out until the door thunks heavily into place behind them, silence settling around them in the alley.
“Alright kid, second lesson. Far as anyone down here’s concerned, you’re not a Spherite. Trust me, people down here don’t take particularly well to it. Hell, I don’t, but you go plastering it around and someone with a real issue might cause you trouble.”
Rudo nods hesitantly, significantly calmer than he had been before now, looking almost meek with it. More childish, and Enjin feels more confident in guessing his age now, face soft around those wide eyes of his. His voice has been calmer too, softer. If he hadn’t already seen it, Enjin might have assumed a kid like that would never be capable of screaming and carrying on how he did.
“Third lesson, stop asking so many questions. Information isn’t something people give out for free, everything has a price. You start asking too many questions to the wrong person and you’ll end up with a debt, or an ass kicking. Depends who it is, I guess.”
The kid nods again, clenching his fists by his sides.
“Alright, now shut up and follow me.”
Securing them a room for an hour or two is easy, cheap even, but the room they step into is filthy enough to match the price. The walls are nicotine stained and water damaged like every other building in town, yellow with age, and there’s a sheet of plywood over a window that he’s certain must be broken underneath. He expects Rudo to wrinkle his nose or scoff, showing any of the entitlement that he understands Sphereites to show. Instead the kid walks in like he’s used to it, flopping onto the stained bedspread without looking at it twice. A reminder that, whatever his life was like up there, it wasn’t what Enjin had heard.
He kicks the leg of the desk chair to spin it around, sitting down and folding his arms over the back lazily. Analysing the kid, thinking through his options. He knows what he’s going to do, already even paid for a private place to do it, but that didn’t mean he had it all figured out yet.
He wanted Rudo to join them, to find out what this weird kid could do with such interesting (familiar) gloves. Really, there was no way in hell he was going to let the kid run off, to the Sphere or otherwise with them. Maybe it was feelings, long buried yet still reachable, or maybe he was just weak to a kid with a tragic past who needed a supportive hand.
Either way, the kid was staying, which meant he and the kid needed to get on level ground. He couldn’t be dragging around a kid who lashed out, yelling and demanding things the second they wanted them, and he certainly couldn’t drag around a kid who wouldn’t listen to him. Riyou and Zanka had been easier in that way, almost immediately attached to him and more than willing to listen, in Zanka’s case perhaps too well.
There were probably better ways around that. Ways that involved connecting to the kid emotionally, or making himself a trustworthy person. Slow and gentle and understanding. Those kinds of things didn’t tend to work for him.
No, it was better to make sure the kid would listen now, that he understood the consequences going forward if he didn’t. Better to put the fear of god into the kid before he pulled some shit like that during a cleaning job where Enjin was trusting him. Putting himself in danger, or pissing off the rest of the team, or making their jobs all harder like he had to Enjin today. Besides, Enjin was still a little irked about that too.
Rudo looks up finally, eyebrows furrowed as he gazes at Enjin expectantly. “What’d ya wanna come here for? Do you need a nap or something?”
He snorts at the question, shaking his head and tugging his cigarette pack out to light one. Smoke drifting around his words as he speaks. “Nah, just wanted to talk. So, what have I taught you so far?”
The kid scrunches his face up at the question, like Enjin is insulting him, gloved fists tightening around the edge of the bed. “Huh? You think I wasn’t listening or something?!”
There it is, that anger the kid had shown him earlier today, boiling and burning under the seams, easy to draw out. Not that he’d been trying to really, he actually had wanted to make sure the kid was paying attention, that his warnings weren’t going into deaf ears. But if the kid’s gonna get this keyed up over it, well, he could use that to his benefit.
“I barely know you kid, I got no reason to think you were. Seems like you’re better at yelling than listening, anyways.”
Rudo jumps to his feet, taking the bait perfectly, expression thunderous within moments. It’s not the kindest thing Enjin has ever done, goading a kid into giving him a good opening for what he plans, but Enjin has never claimed to be a particularly kind man. (He’d heard it of course, being told how kind or helpful he was after doing little things for others around HQ, but at the end of the day he considers himself too selfish to take the title. This was just another example of that.)
“I was listening, you asshole! You haven’t even given me anything helpful yet!”
He does raise an eyebrow at that, he’s certainly given the kid more than helpful advice, unless the kid wanted to end up in some cage somewhere with his precious Jinki gone. Maybe he had read him wrong, maybe the kid was getting so defensive because he actually had forgotten what he’d been told. The idea is laughable, but he bites it back anyways.
“Oh yeah? And what have I told you then?”
The boy sputters for a second, crossing his arms and glaring harder. “Just a bunch of crap about not asking questions and not talking, that isn’t helpful!”
“Mm yeah, maybe I’m just telling you to shut up for myself, or you just think it isn’t helpful because you don’t understand things down here. So many possibilities.”
The words seem to dig into Rudo more, glaring at him for a long moment before he grumbles something under his breath, turning to the door to storm away. “I’m not dealing with this shit, if you don’t wanna help me then you don’t gotta! I’ll find my way back on my own!”
He makes it almost to the door before Enjin stabs his cig into the ashtray and stands up, snagging Rudo’s arm before he can get out of reach. This works, then. “Hold up, shrimp.”
“Hey! Let go, I said I’m leaving!” The kid demands, jerking against his hand. Enjin holds fast though, and he doesn’t make it very far.
“Nah, don’t think I will. In fact, I think it’s time for your next lesson.” He drags the kid to the bed with him as he talks, sitting down with a played-up sigh and pulling the kid close. “Lesson four.”
The kid is surprisingly hard to haul over his knee, but no harder than Zanka has managed to be before. In the end, he still lands there, no match for Enjin’s unfortunate experience. Propped over one knee, legs pinned with the other, and his hand pinned down to his back under a tattooed one. He’s still thrashing as much as he can, free hand clawing at the bed even though his gloves don’t give him much purchase against the fabric.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
Enjin grabs one of the kid’s hips for a moment, adjusting him a bit to not be digging into his side the wrong way. “What, you’ve never had a spanking before?” Unlikely, Enjin had never met a kid who hadn’t at least been over someone’s knee once, for doing something reckless or getting a bad mark in school at least.
The blush that climbs Rudo’s face at the words only confirms this, the kid bucking harder with the understanding. “You can’t sp- do that!”
“I don’t see anyone stopping me.” He snarks, unable to resist. Grabbing the top of the kid’s pants to yank them down without much fanfare, and wrinkling his own nose a bit at the sight of the kid’s undergarments. Stained and yellowed like much else down here, even coming from up there. Those go down too, if only because he doesn’t feel particularly inclined to touch them more than he has to.
“So, lesson four!” He repeats, loud to be heard over the hollering Rudo is doing now, calling him every name he can think of, sucking in breaths between bouts. “Disrespectin’ someone who’s trying to help you isn’t gonna get you very far, you know? People down here don’t help people just ‘cuz, unless you’re reaaaal lucky to run into a nice guy like me.”
Enjin’s hand comes down sharply with the words, clapping against the kid’s ass and sending him down another spiel of curses. “You’re lucky you didn’t run into anyone else. A human trafficker, or a murderer, or like, a pedophile.”
“THE FUCK DOES THAT MAKE YOU?!”
Another heavy clap of skin against skin, and then another on the other side. “Eh, call me a concerned parent or something. I see a kid in danger and I just can’t stop myself from saving their ass.”
“Not what I meant!”
“I know.” He sets to a rhythm now, making quick work of flushing the skin to a nice, rosy hue. “Insulting someone helping you isn’t very nice either. That’s how you stop getting help, or end up here.”
Rudo doesn’t seem to be running out of energy to fight any time soon, but he’s pinned well enough that he’s not making any more progress than a bug would under someone’s shoe. Righteously angry, and Enjin would be too in his position, but his hand keeps clapping down anyways. If the kid didn’t want to end up here, he shouldn’t have been so god damned annoying about everything.
“When you join the Cleaners-”
“I told ya I’m not joinin’ ‘em!”
“When you join the Cleaners,” Firmer now, no room for argument in the tone. “You’re gonna have to listen, and not fight every damn thing. Making a nuisance of yourself isn’t gonna get you anywhere that you want to be down here.”
Rudo growls, broken off with a yelp by a swat to an already flushed patch of skin. His free hand grabbing around a fistful of blanket now, and his legs still trying to kick their way out of the hold he’s in. He doesn’t have much room to work though, energy waning, and it mostly just achieves the drumming of his toes against the floorboards.
“You wanna get back to the Sphere, yeah? You’re not gonna even gonna get past the roof of a building if you don’t accept help. Us cleaners? We can help you with it, at least try to, but only if you work with us.” He shifts the boy up a little higher now, laying into his thighs with harsh swats.
“I don’t need your help! I’ll get there myself!”
“Yeah sure, I’d love to see ya try that, kid. I give it what, three days? Before you end up somewhere you’d rather not and start wishing you’d stayed with me instead.”
Realistically, Rudo would probably be relatively fine here, now that they’ve made it into a city. People who lived together like this tended to follow certain rules, have certain standards of things that wouldn’t fly here like they could out in the wastelands. Rudo didn’t need to know that though. If he thought everyone down here was half as awful as Enjin was making himself out to be, for even a little while, he could get him settled into the Cleaners faster than he could talk himself out of it.
Was it Manipulative? Sure. Did it make Enjin an asshole by every measure of the word? Also yes. But it was for a good purpose, means to an end and all that.
The smacks are starting to get to Rudo now, infuriating in their rhythm and building to enough of a sting that he can’t ignore it. Yelping with each impact now, before he shoves the blanket between his teeth, biting down to muffle himself. Shoulders tense and shaking a little with his frustration.
“You can’t do everything yourself, kid. That’s just not how life works.”
Rudo shakes his head at the words, but doesn’t spit the blanket out to say more, which might as well be an achievement of its own. He’s at least hearing the words now, not yelling over them like some kind of possessed beast in the body of a child.
“Alright, lesson five.” The smacks come a bit harder now, moving back to the top to light the skin there up a bit more. Pulling near-desperate whines out of the kid. “If someone tells you to shut up, you shut the hell up. You could’ve gotten us both killed if I wasn’t prepared, and then you wouldn’t have gotten anywhere. Hell of a revenge that would be, huh?”
The words seem to actually mean something to the kid this time, pressing his face to the mattress and letting out a long whine. He’ll wrap it up soon then, he doesn’t want to actually make the kid cry and have to deal with that.
“Now that you’re with me, you’re gonna listen. If you don’t, you’ll be right back here, getting spanked like a naughty kid, get it?”
“Got it!” The kid gasps out almost immediately, face hot and red when he pulls it away from the blankets. “I got it, stop!”
“C’mon, you can answer better than that. How ‘bout a yessir?”
Rudo buries his face again with a loud, prolonged groan now, but it only takes another handful of smacks for him to snap back up, teeth gritted. “Fine, fine! Yessir!”
Better. Enjin nods, pressing harder on the kid’s back to land a last flurry of heavy impacts, before he releases him.
Rudo doesn’t wait to be told twice, or even once, launching off Enjin’s lap like a cat with a stepped tail. Scrambling back until the tangle of his pants takes him down, landing on his ass against the ground with a pained noise. He only seems more embarrassed by this, rushing to yank them back up before Enjin can see things even he doesn’t want to.
“Alright, sounds like we’re on the same page then. Go wash up and we’ll get some lunch alright?”
Rudo doesn’t say anything, tense as he pulls himself to his feet. Hesitating for only a moment before storming over to the sink cranking the water up to a strong blast in the basin. It’s an improvement at least, to the yelling and swearing of before, and he’s doing what Enjin has told him. Seems like as good a result as any, really.
He can’t pat himself on the back for it though, or really take it as a success. Regardless of reasoning, he’s just spent several long minutes tanning the ass of a kid who arguably hadn’t earned it, just to fix his attitude. As if Enjin would be any better off, thrown out of his home into a place that worked so differently, almost dying because of the betrayal of the earth by the same people who had betrayed him personally.
It’s fine, the kid’s got lots to learn and lots of room to grow. A spanking wasn’t going to change that, and it certainly wasn’t going to make such a headstrong kid feel afraid of him. It would just have to do.
“You like burgers?”