Chapter Text
It started in Hole Town after yet another cyclical process of taking on a handful of jobs that debilitates him as the sun sets and finding lingering food stalls to replenish his energy. He couldn't remember what food it was but it was really salty and was on a stick. Zanka had stopped being selective about what goes in his stomach since he started this suboptimal habit of working himself to the bone. It's not as if he was present enough to be meticulous about food anyway. He saves his remaining cognizance and pours it elsewhere before regretting everything later when his stomach lambastes him at the comfort of his home.
Of course, the salted ashtray and dust tasting edibles were barely enough to recharge him physically, but it was enough to give him around eighty percent of brain functionality. By the time he was finished with his third stick, he had stopped leaning against his staff and regained enough coherence to realize he'd been absentmindedly strolling to the town center where people gather around for trades. The sun had already set which means he'd just stumbled upon Hole Town's night market.
This isn't the first time Zanka witnessed the clamorous hustlers and hagglers. Enjin always make sure to maledict Zanka with a hefty dose of people whenever they do jobs together. Which is why Zanka immediately noticed the difference between his previous trips here to the sight infront of him. The usual higgledy-piggledy ocean of vendors and consumers had notably lessened. Some stall spots were vacant and the shoppers weren't bumping onto each other. At first, Zanka assumed it was because it's still early, but when he noticed the queer ambience, he immediately discarded that assumption. Slowly, he noticed how tense people are. Some keep looking over their shoulders with paranoia and wariness while others were downright hostile.
He turned to the nearest food stall vendor who looked disappointed with the dearth of generous customers and asked, "Hey, what's up with this place? The vibe's kinda off."
The old man stopped fanning the coals on the grill and looked at him grimly. "This your first time here?"
"Not really." Zanka didn't bother to explain himself.
"Then you prolly noticed people being a bit edgy." The old man flipped the grilled... whatever that is. "Fuck, business isn't really looking pretty for us sellers."
"What happened?"
"Oh who knows. People just started disappearing. It started off small, but now a third of the town is gone like a fart in the wind."
Zanka's eyes narrowed. A third? That isn't exactly a small amount. "People?"
"Yeah, kid. People. Kids, geezers, men, women or whatever—they all started vanishing." The old man snorts bitterly, "Hell, even my regulars fucked off."
Zanka looked thoughtful for a moment. The case sounds awfully familiar.
He'd overhead some supporters at the HQ talk about some of their relatives suddenly ghosting them for no reason. He normally wouldn't care about their personal lives, but it happened to more than just one person and the numbers kept moving up. Maybe it's related to this.
He should report this to the HQ.
"Any specific areas where they disappeared to?"
The old man gave him a look, then stared at the cleaners logo on Zanka's uniform. "Outer east."
"Thanks." Zanka walked towards that direction.
"Oi, kid!"
"... what?"
"You bring me my regulars back, alright?"
"Sure."
---
The outer east side of Hole Town was the furthest from the entrance and have the least sunlight. Right now, it's the perfect venue to host human trafficking trades if you take advantage of the lack of residents, which was odd since the less sky you see means less trash storm to harm you. Why would people vacate such place?
As Zanka slowly made his way to the darkest parts of the area, he began to wonder why the Hell Guards aren't investigating such a large scale missing people case.
Doesn't matter. Anyways...
Zanka held Assistaff tightly as he stood in the middle of a suspiciously clean alleyway. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath before turning to his right. "Come out."
His muscles tensed, ready to immediately strike if his newly acquired malignant stalker decides to tussle with him, but also measured enough to avoid serious harm in case they decide to be friendly. Not that Zanka has faith on the latter. He'd been feeling that malicious glare from the moment he stepped into the alley.
So he prepared to coax Assistaff to take her other form.
Light footsteps echoed across the deserted alley. A boy—probably around Rudo's age and as equally malnourished—stepped into the light with faux agita. He had dirty blond hair chopped unevenly between his ears and his neck, cheeks dotted with a litany of freckles and dull blue eyes that couldn't hide his deep-seated animosity no matter how much he try to widen them to look innocent.
Yep.
One strike should be enough.
Zanka let Assistaff abandon her inert form and shift into something heavier and firm, feeling the way the rough wood smoothened into hard metal against the palm of his hand. Though he didn't move an inch from where he's at. Not yet, at least.
"Hey, are you the one behind all this?" He asked in a disinterested tone. "You a giver or something?"
"I... I don't know what you're talking abo—"
"Cut the crap, kid. Are you even a kid? Your voice is too deep. Are you a small guy pretending to be a kid?" Zanka tries to rile him up. Not the brightest thing to do in his situation, he knows, but Zanka just wanted the boy to slip and give Zanka the perfect excuse to attack.
The boy's face turned a bit red, "I am a real boy!"
"Sounds like something an old man would say."
"You—!" The boy's intentions of playing sheep was thrown out the window in an instant and his eyes glowed green. It wasn't like Riyo's bright emerald. His color was light green, almost bordering in yellow. Like decaying leaves. "Srew you!"
How easy.
Zanka braced himself, feeling his nerves light up like flash powder crackling towards his brain. He yanked the feeling of adrenaline that shot up his spine and kept it locked in his chest, relishing on the feeling. It's been a while since he last fought a someone, not a something. Trash beasts are good targets but nothing beats the way a human fights. Maybe Zanka needed sleep. He's not usually this reckless. Ever since he fought that prick—... nevermind.
Zanka was pulled out of his head when the boy held a slingshot and fired at him. It wasn't glowing so that probably isn't the kid's vital instrument. It should be something that causes people to disappear, which means Zanka has to make sure to watch where he's going while parrying the marbles with Assistaff's blunt side. He can't shattered them, who knows what's inside those things.
"That all you got, old man?"
"I'm not an old man!" His eyes glowed brighter and finally, Zanka saw what his vital instrument was. It was attached to his hip inside a small pouch bag. It glowed alongside the boy's eyes. Is he not gonna use it? Disappointing.
Bored, Zanka pushed himself off his spot and rushed towards the boy with his arms positioned to swing his Assistaff.
Then, the boy's frustrated glare twists into an unhinged grin.
That's when Zanka knew he fucked up.
Because the moment Assistaff's blunt side hits the boy, he'd already shielded himself with his vital instrument. A small mirror.
Then, he felt an extreme force pulling him into the mirror.
He really should've reported to the HQ first.