#brodus

The ride home was rocky, even with Gris behind the wheel; Bro Santa could feel every little stutter of the car. His body was sore, all from being thrown around, bashed into the ground, and then, of course, being electrocuted. The day was most definitely crossed off as one of the worst missions he's had to deal with yet, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Guita knew Spanish, he would have already been cursing out a southern man's whole lineage in Español after everything that happened.

Bro still wore his Cleaners uniform, dirtied and scuffed up from the never-ending abuse he endured an hour ago. He’d likely have to sew up some tears later too after washing the clothes. His face wasn’t much better, the man tried his best to wipe off all the grime with his sleeve, but he knew there were definitely some patches of dirt here and there. Any blemishes and cuts he had were healed up by Eisha, thankfully. His hair was draped down, the braid he usually kept tied up in undone, and no matter how many times he tried to tuck the thick strands of hair behind his ears, it always found a way to fall back down his face rather annoyingly. 

Sat atop his lap was an exhausted Dear Santa, who drifted in and out of sleep. Bro didn’t know why the kid was fighting the exhaustion; there was no reason to, and it was much past his bedtime anyway. But that wasn’t a fight Bro was going to battle right now; he knew Dear would succumb to his tiredness eventually, either way. Guita had already fallen asleep, her head resting on Bro’s shoulder. He could hear the girl's faint snoring. She was probably also drooling slightly, too. 

“Hey,” His attention shifted to Gris, who cleared his throat before continuing. “Where's Cloth?” The other questioned, confused by the lack of the accessory the man wore. His head was tilted back, his eyes flicking from the road, then back at Bro. An honest question that made Bro cringe, sighing as the lack of his item tied around his head wasn’t unnoticed.

“A Raider took it,” Bro’s answer was simple. His vital instrument was stolen, and right now, he couldn’t do anything about it, so he didn’t want to speak more on the subject. “Don’t want to talk about it, not now.”

“Oh.” Gris said no more, respecting the others' wishes. Bro knew, though, that Gris was likely finding it difficult to do that. Other than Gris and himself, everyone was sound asleep inside the vehicle. Gris’s driving really was spectacular, being able to drive across rocky, rubble and trash-ridden, and cracked terrain as if it were a smoothly paved road was an odd but great talent. He was already starting to feel himself drift in and out of sleep, the dull pain that burdened his body starting to dissipate. Eventually his head dipped back into the headrest, exhaustion winning over him as his eyes fell shut.

-

Hand No. 2 was equipped with claws nimble and sharp, cutting through stone and cloth equally as easily. Apparently, its piercing claws reflected the southern-accented man’s early adolescence, an immature personality, mouthing out sharp and cutting remarks. But right now, the enlarged mechanical hand was having a great deal of fun chasing Bro away from his son, every attempt made to evade those sharp talons and run to dear was met with Cloth being cut, tattered, ripped, and pierced from those claws before Bro himself was thrown away. The distance between him and Dear was growing each time the mechanical hand caught him. 

Bundus, the “southern-accented man”, wasn’t any god-damn “newbie.” The man had experience and an item with years of love and care that made it powerful enough to fend off five givers at once with little effort. None of them could even touch the man while he tormented them with his Jinki, buying the trash beast they were trapped inside, time to reach the border. Apparently, he still had another hand to spare as well, damn their luck. 

Bro’s knuckles were turning white as he held tight to Cloth. He was still recovering from being hurled into a rock wall, staring down the hand with sharp talons, which seemed to watch him back. How unnerving that was. That was the odd thing, he didn’t know if the older man had direct control over each hand, each movement, or twitch, or if they simply were given an order and reflected his personality. But this one was acting oddly sportsmanlike, while yes, it was beating Bro Santa into the dirt, it only did so when the man was ready. Never when he was down recovering. 

He was roughed up, his back bruised, and his ribs aching. The palm of his hand stung as he held onto Cloth for dear life. His gaze flickered from his opponent, back to his son, who huddled in a corner while another mechanical hand kept him at bay. This one had odd fingers that morphed into what he could only describe as some dark matter sludge that took the shape of what seemed to be. . . cats? What a peculiar way to torment a ten-year-old. Dear didn’t seem to be even that hurt, instead scared of whatever mockery Bundus’s No. 5 hand was doing. 

Sweat beaded from his forehead, and his brows were furrowed as he returned his attention back to his own mechanical prosthetic opponent he had to counter. It continued to hover a few yards away, a temptation to fight again, to try to run. It was agitating how much this hand seemed to be alive; it was truly a part of Bundus’s body, moving as such. Suppose that such an item, one to replace a part of yourself that was lost, was definitely an item that could form so much potential. If it wasn’t for the fact that Bundus was trying to. . kill them. . No, stall them until they reach the border that would kill them. Bro would want to ask about how his arms came to life. A man with multiple Vital instruments was one who had an interesting story. Too late now, especially when the man was no longer interested in talking like before. Also, a subject that shouldn't just be asked, “How’d you lose your arm?” He’s had to apologize for Guita for a question such as that before. 

With shallow breaths, he started to regain himself, the grip on Cloth tightening while he formed a new strategy. Though it consisted of the same idea, run, grab Dear, and then he supposed, continue running til this is over, since clearly neither of them was a match for the hands attacking them. He shifted his legs, his shoes planted sturdily now on the ground. He saw how the hand seemed to twitch, the mechanical sounds of the motors and gears stirring up yet again.

With a flick of Bro’s wrist, Cloth stretched across the large room, entangling around a rock formation, and with a swift pull, he followed behind, using the leverage to swing himself away from the sharp Talons of Hand No. 2.

“Already up again, bro? Oh’ now c’mon. . . don’t be like that,” From the distance Bundus’s long drawl echoed, something about how he spoke, it held little hostility, it didn’t sound like the man was trying to taunt him, maybe a hint of surprise hidden under that deep southern voice of his? Some disappointment that the man had to bash him down yet again? 

Bro was overthinking this, especially when Hand No. 2 was already chasing; he couldn't let the man's words distract or deter him. Using Cloth to pull him from stalagmite to stalagmite, sliding beneath crumbling rubble and trash, while dodging the cutting daggers on Bundus’s prosthetic hand. He kept on going, while evading wasn’t a favorable course of action, he needed to close the gap between him and his son, and have the boy safe in his arms.

“Alright. . .”

While Bro was swift, quick on his feet, he still couldn't get away from the prosthetic hand chasing him, its claws already hooking onto the fabric before ripping apart Cloth yet again. The momentum bro had halted to a stop as he fell to the ground at the force of it. Face first. His face was shoved into the hard rock beneath him, a pained grunt leaving his throat as he struggled to gather his strength. He held tight to Cloth, the patterned fabric tightly bound around his wrist. Hand No. 2’s talons were caught on the fabric, pulling while Bro held onto it for life. The grasp on his Jinki didn’t falter; he wouldn't let it. Until the hand lunged for him, the talons aiming straight for his life. With a gasp, he tumbled to the left, rolling away, the grasp on his cloth becoming loose.

The mechanical hand never stopped its attacks, lunge after lunge. Bro had to stumble away, whether tumbling to the side, rolling, or crawling, the slope of the floor beneath him making him lose his balance each time. Some time between these onslaughts of attacks, his hair fell from the braid it was tied up in, the long strands covering his eyes while he fled the onslaught of assault. Each attack left gashes in the rock where he once was, the idea of him being next terrifying as he continued to stumble around his attacker. 

Cloth enveloped the hand a multitude of times, each being thwarted by the claws adorned on the mechanical prosthetic. Each time, Bros' grip on Cloth loosened without him noticing. It was a dance, swaying from side to side, jumping away from the murderous hand that tried to get him. If he were grabbed now, he would be thrown all the way to the other side of the damn beast. He was only a few yards away from his son, though that also meant the hand that tormented Dear was just as close too. 

The fabric he held dearly in his hand was gone, snagged away by the claws of Hand No. 2. The man tried to tug the fabric back, only falling backwards as the metallic prosthetic ripped it away from his grasp. Bros' hand felt empty as he watched the hand that chased him across this arena take away his beloved item, the life he gave to it draining away as he no longer held it in his hands. But instead around the cold, dead metal fingers of Bundus’s.

That didn’t matter. That didn’t matter this instant. It was his treasured item, but he loved his son much more, and the little cries he could hear from his boy were enough for him to forget about what he loved so much that it came to life. Bro continued to run, using the small bit of time to get ahead, sliding across the rough floors beneath Hand No. 5,  the demented cats on the tip of its fingers seemed surprised, their onslaught of laughter dying while they watched him grab his son, the boy sniffling in his arms. 

This was where Bro was supposed to run again, evade the mechanical arms until the others figured out how to stop the user, though he could tell they were having just as much trouble as him. But Bundus’s hands did nothing. The prosthetic arms simply watched him while he held his son, trying to figure out his next course of action. Just like the arms that surrounded him and his son, he could feel the stare of the man himself from across the room, though he didn’t dare to look back yet. His hair was disheveled, draping down his face while he stared back at the Metallic arms. He was gasping for breath while he waited, waiting for anything, for them to move, to lunge at him and his son.

But they didn’t; instead, the one with sharp talons, Cloth pierced on the ring finger, closed into a fist. With the item secured in its grasp, the prosthetic arm returned to Bundus’s side. Bro’s gaze followed along, watching as it drifted to the man, presenting his Jinki to the southern blonde. 

Dull brown eyes met the glowing yellow hues of another, the two men meeting gazes as Bundus took the cloth from Hand No. 2, inspecting the patterned, tattered fabric now in his fleshed-out hand. Bro could see him mouth something, but the man was too far and too quiet to actually understand what he muttered. Bro watched as he pocketed the stolen Jinki.

-

A soft jab to his side woke Bro up from what must’ve been the worst nap he’s ever had. Though that was likely just because he still felt horrid from the fight. It was Enjin who was poking him, jabbing his finger into his side, even after Bro clearly awoke. Glancing around in his drowsy state, it appeared that everyone else had already left the car, except for the whole of team Child, of which the majority was still asleep on top of him.

“ Wakey wakey man, at HQ now ya’knowww? ” Enjin was just being an asshole now. 

“ Will you quit stabbing me with your finger?! ” Bro spoke in an aggravated whisper, not wanting to wake up the two kids. “ I think you already knew you woke me up by the third poke. ” 

“ Actually, you were out cold, Bro, took maybe twelve before Enjin finally got you to stir awake, ” Gris chimed in. Bro hadn’t noticed he was still there, standing beside Enjin, who was still stabbing his finger into Bro’s side. 

Bro swatted away Enjin's hand, who only laughed at his futile attacks. 

“ You’re infuriating. I don’t know why I consider you a close friend. ”  The words were cruel, but Bro didn’t actually mean them, but he was most definitely in a not-so-friendly mood. Enjin faked an expression of offense. 

Getting out of the car without stirring awake the two kids who were piled on top of you was already a difficult task. But also carrying them out as well? Bro had done this before, but not when he was this sore. On his back lay Guita, still happily sleeping while quiet mews came from her lips. And in his arms was Dear, who had failed to win over his tiredness an hour ago. It might have been the better move to at least wake up Guita, but it was a harsh day, and Bro had too big a heart to disturb the young girl. 

“ You sure you don’t want me to take one of them, Bro? You got your hands full. . . ” Gris offered, Enjin chiming in his own comment, “ Literally ” right after.

“ I’ll be fine, done this before plenty of times, ” Bro countered, though his voice stammered as he lifted the weight of the little ones. Stepping away from the car, he was able to shut the metal door with a kick of his leg.

“Uhhuh,” Enjin muttered beside him, looking the other up and down with squinted eyes and furrowed brows. “ S’mthing is missing, but I can’t tell.”

“It’s Cloth Enjin, that's what’s missing. Took you that long to realize it was gone?” He was practically astonished by how blind Enjin was. He was in the same room where it happened as well, and still, he didn’t notice.

It took a minute for the man to process the information, a horrid realization coming to his face once he pieced together everything that had happened just a few hours ago. 

“ Nah... I was so occupied with keeping myself damn alive that it didn’t process- man- Bro. . . Shit man! ” Enjin's voice became more frantic as he talked, his hands waving in the air, gesturing to who knows what in defeat. 

“It's fine, Enjin. It was either Dear or Cloth, and I made that decision quite easily.’ Bro glanced down at the boy coiled in his arms. It wasn’t difficult to decide what mattered most at the moment, but losing his vital instrument? It felt like a part of him was ripped away, the piece of patterned fabric he always had on him, wrapped around his head. The absence of it was just odd right now.

"Doesn't make it fine Bro. While I know I don't have an item myself, I know that it being taken must’ve been-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bro cut off Gris. He didn't want to hear his friend's pity right now. He simply needed to get his children to bed, then himself.

Gris and Enjin glanced at each other, sharing a look of concern for their friend, especially when he said he was uninterested in the topic.

Bro adjusted his hold on the two children he carried, securing Guita's arms around his neck, and her legs held tight under his arms. Dear was still curled in the man's arms, his small hands grasping onto Bro’s own. 

“Right then, let's head off then? I bet Semiu will be glad to see us!” Enjin clasped his hands together, already moseying his way up to the HQ's doors.

“More like she's going to scold him,” Gris muttered under his breath, chuckling at his own remark. Bro followed in suit, his own low chuckle joining in as he waited for the chaos of Semius and Enjin's odd relationship.

The two followed behind Enjin, silence engulfing the space between them after their little chuckle-fest, whilst they made their way towards the entrance.

“Now what do we have here? Y’all finally decided to come inside?” Semiu was already so quick to spew out her sarcastic comments, and Bro could see that she was ready to start biting at Enjin.

“And why ain’t you helping Bro? That poor man looks like he was just dragged out from a pile of rubble, and now he's carrying those two babies?” Semiu always called the two kids “babies” when they couldn't hear her. She had a hidden spot inside her heart for kids; she was always the go-to for babysitting, even when Semiu denied that she enjoyed taking care of them. Enjin used to be their emergency babysitter, until he lost the boy's pacifier at a playground. 

“ Aye! I- well, Gris offered! It's not my fault the man is stubborn, ” Enjin exclaimed. But that meant Semiu’s attention was now directed towards Bro, and he already knew she was going to start barking at him.

“ Bro. You look horrible, and I know damn well that back of yours is aching after a fight as awful as the others described it. And don’t even think I don’t know that you denied Eisha’s offer to get you up to full health! That's why she was driven over, you dummy! ” Bro could already feel himself shrinking under Semiu’s reprimanding.

“I wanted the others to get better attention! I was fine compared to the rest. . She only had a limited supply of electricity. “ he could only muster a nervous laugh, anything to ease Semiu.

“Weren’t you like hurled multiple times into the ground, man?” Of course, that was what Enjin paid attention to, seeing the older man get beaten up.

“I had Eishia help me with all the fractures and serious stuff-!”

“No, no, no, no, Bro Santa. Hurled? Into the damn floor? Multiple times? I work with idiots if you decided that you were fine after that. Now, how could you let yourself get handled like-“ Semiu paused, her eyes glancing up, then down, surveying Bro while he dreaded the next question she was about to ask. “Wheres-“

“I have to get these two to bed. I’ll talk to you guys in the morning, alright?” Bro cut off Semiu’s train of thought, an anxious smile twisting the corners of his lips with his excuse. It’s not like it was a lie; he could feel Guita starting to stir on his back from the conversation around her. Dear was still dead asleep though. Once that kid was knocked out, you couldn’t wake him. 

“Alright then,” Semiu couldn’t hide the suspicion in her voice, but that was fine; Bro was already leaving the room, heaving his two children along with him. He could hear the others' chatter continue behind him, most likely Gris and Enjin informing their desk lady about what happened. He sighed at that. There was going to be so much pity coming his way about his Jinki; the Cleaners were such a nice couple of folks, so of course, they were going to bombard him with their condolences and hopeful promises later on once the news spread across the building. He was doomed once Enjin figured it out, the gossiper he is. 

Team Child resided on the second floor of the building. So while Bro trekked up the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the next, he wondered what would happen with his vital instrument? Used as fuel for another trash beast? Maybe they would just throw it away; it wasn’t like Cloth was anything special. To him, of course, it was; he cherished the piece of fabric with his heart as anyone else with their instrument. But it wasn’t a secret that the Jinki was rather weak compared to his peers; it was good for traversing, restraining, and supporting team Child during their missions. But other than that, it was rather plain. 

The latter of the Raiders simply throwing away his Cloth was worse. Basically, a kick to his face, telling him that his Jinki was a worthless Item. 

An exasperated groan left the man at the depressive thought. He really shouldn't be dwelling on this, not when there was nothing to do about it. Just spiraling into questions upon questions of “what ifs” was no help to him.

The man turned left, leaving the stairwell. The hall was mostly empty, not including the Cleaners odd decor. Riyo was to the side, chatting it up with another gal from the supporters. He hasn’t worked personally with her, but he thinks her name was Reuna? 

Riyo was waving at him, a wide frog-like smile on her face as she bobbed up and down on her toes, her arm practically thrashing in the air. Bro smiled back, freeing his hand from Dear's grasp to wave back to the girl. She seemed happy, going back to her conversation with the other gal, and he continued walking towards Dear’s room. He was ready to put the two kids down for the night and be able to take some time to recover from the terrible day they all just had.

Guita stirred a little behind him, her soft mewing slowing down as he presumed she was starting to wake a little. The girl would likely fall back asleep as soon as she touched her bed  though, so he didn’t fret as the girl yawned, smacking her tongue a few times as she awoke. 

“ Mooorrnninggg, I think? ” Guita finally spoke, the grogginess apparent in her voice. The girl hugged Bro tighter now that she was awake, her head swishing back and forth as she took in her surroundings. It definitely wasn’t morning, and she was probably still a little sore from their day.

“ Sorry, Guita, it isn't quite morning yet, ” Bro chuckled, adjusting his hold on the girl. “We just got home, actually, putting the two of you to bed.”

“ Ohh, Okeyyyy. .” She drew out her words, a little quirk she always had when she talked. Guita Hebby Fantasia wasn’t his child, technically. She was a foster, Bro taking her in a little after she joined the Cleaners a few years ago. Even though he loved her like his own, and she loved him, she was adamant that she would never want to be adopted, a wish he was perfectly fine with granting as long as he was still able to take care of her. Guita shimmied behind him, rocking left to right as she muttered something beneath her breath, before deciding to yell into his ear.

“ Bro! Bro, Bro, I need to use the bathroom! Let me down pleasee! ” She squealed, trying to jump off him,  but her feet were caught between his arms, her attempt of escaping ending with her upside down, her shoes snagged in the space where Bro was holding onto her. 

“ Guita! Give me a warning, won't you!? ” He laughed, loosening his posture so Guita's legs could finally escape his hold. Looking back, Bro caught sight of the girl on the floor, giggling as she scrambled up and away, hopping out of sight toward the second-floor bathroom. He was glad the commotion didn’t wake Dear, the little guy still soundly asleep in his arms. 

He guessed that meant he only needed to tuck in one kid tonight. Of course, he would still check on Guita after he was done with Dear, though. With only a few more steps, he approached the door bearing the metallic sign with Dear’s name engraved on it. 

Bro awkwardly bent down, trying to keep his hold on Dear whilst twisting the knob and pushing the door open swiftly with his shoulder. 

Dear’s room was smaller than the vast majority of the bedrooms at Cleaners HQ. Even so, it ended up being actually cozier than many of the other rooms in the building. The small space was furnished and decorated to Dears' liking, all the way from the glow-in-the-dark stars that stuck to the ceiling, down to the plush oval rug that concealed the concrete floors. The boy's bed was slotted in the top left corner of the room, piled with an excessive amount of blankets and pillows; atop of that heap was a small plush toy, which was some old-timey horse design. Bro tried his best to convince Dear that the mountain of comforters was overkill, and the fact that he needed to rotate them in the wash, too, but Dear never bought his “propaganda”.

Bro tried his best to tuck him into the nest of pillows and blankets that was his bed, A hand steady on the piled pillows beside them to prevent an avalanche toppling over the both of them. Dear was already curling into himself beneath the comforter that Bro managed to tuck him under, his small hands grasping the plush blanket.

It was a hassle, but Bro was also able to take out the hair ties from the boy's hair, too, without waking him. He discarded the small bands into the drawer of the nightstand near the bed. Also, taking the time to switch on the small nightlight atop of it, a star the size of his fist that glowed a soft orange hue, illuminating the small room. 

Leaning down, Bro quickly pecked a kiss on the boy's forehead, whispering him a goodnight after ruffling his hair once more. Standing up was painful on his sore calves, but he did so anyway, grunting as he stood before leaving the room. He now only had one other kid to check on before heading to bed himself. Guita’s room was just down the hall, her door hard to miss when it was absolutely covered in stickers, every inch colorful with the collection she had. Most of them were of Kaijus or other types of monsters, but some were other things, like bugs; a whole corner of the door was adorned with ladybugs.

The man knocked on the door, thumping it three times, then twice, then four. Guita insisted on the “secret” knock, but Bro didn’t mind.

“ Come in!! ” Guita yelled, somehow sounding way too energetic than she should be. 

But now that he had permission, Bro let himself in, glancing around the room before his eyes landed on Guita.

“ So, you’ wearing that to bed? ” He was most definitely a little skeptical of the abomination that Guita’s outfit was. She wore a dark blue graphic Godzilla shirt that was more than three times too big for her, a pair of heart-patterned pajama shorts that reached her knees, a kitty-cat sleep mask, and cockroach-designed slippers. He really hated those slippers, from the moment Guita begged him to buy them, all the way up to the present.

“ Yep! And don’t worry, I brushed my teeth, ” She gave a wide smile at that claim, proving herself via showing off her just-cleaned chompers and fangs.

“Glad to hear it, you alright then? Need anything from me?” He wanted to be sure he wasn’t missing anything. Guita’s own nightlight was already on, shaped like some Kaiju he didn’t know the name of. 

“ Nope, you can leave! Night Bro! ” Already she started ushering him out, flapping her hand at him as a gesture that it was time to leave.

Chuckling, Bro obliged to the obvious message the girl was sending, giving her a loving smile before closing the door behind him.

That was the day done, the man slumping to his own room at the other end of the hall. Usually, he would take a shower after a long day, and he knew he was covered in grime and dried sweat, but he was too exhausted. Locking the door behind him, he practically fell into his bed, forgetting all about how his uniform was disgusting at the moment. He lazily kicked off his shoes, struggling to get the damn things off without unlacing them. Was less difficult to slide his socks off, though; it was still a fight to do so without the use of his hands. 

He sighed heavily into his bed, his face shoved into a pillow as he contemplated his life after the events that occurred in the past few hours. Really, the next few days are going to suck as well; everything is just going to be horrible for a while, and every thought and worry filling his head was eating him up from the inside. Bro wasn’t going to cry, but he really was close to it, feeling the small sting that pricked in the corners of his eyes. He adjusted himself, shuffling beneath his comforter and finally flipping himself over, now idly staring at the ceiling. 

“ For fuck’s sake. ”

-

Bro Santa was right, the few days after the Raiders ambushed the cleaners, nearly killed them, and his vital instrument being stolen, sucked. It was horrible. While his colleagues had good intentions, the constant pity and reassurance only dug him deeper into the dumps. He was pretty sure the only man who got the hint that he didn't want to be reminded of the horrible day was the boss. Arkha Corvus gave him some condolences in the beginning, but left the topic quicker than the others, instead focusing on what happened before they all had reunited again. The man definitely was surprised when Bro told him about the odd exchange of conversation he had with the raider he was paired up with. 

He was put on a temporary hold regarding his position. The rest of team Child, ended up being paired with others in the meantime, while the Boss figured out what to do with Bro. He was likely going to be reassigned as a supporter until they retrieved his Cloth, whenever that might be, if ever. Usually, the guy was an optimist, but lately he’s been the opposite, only sparing a still happy-going mask around Guita and Dear.

Both Enjin and Gris were trying their best to get the man out of HQ, whether going to the bar or insisting he go out to town and enjoy himself. He wasn’t exactly eager to do any of their suggested activities. Especially Enjin's suggestion of going out to the bar and getting laid by some random. Instead of those suggestions, he was hunched over the coffee table in the lounge, his face planted in his hand while he whistled small tunes to himself as he flipped cards over in a game of solitaire. He wasn’t in uniform; instead, a dark-blue sweatshirt and a pair of gray cargo pants. He still wore the dog tag he always had around his neck, and his hair was neatly braided. While it wasn’t exactly the most entertaining game, it still kept his mind off his troubles.

His choker started to chirp, nudging him out of his depressive stupor. Lifting the two fingers that had just placed an Ace of hearts into the game, he pinched the choker, answering the chirping alarm.

“ Heya Bro, Enjins back, ” Semius voice was heard from the device, an oddly confused tone beneath her words. 

“ Uhhuh, and? ” Bro was already back in his solitary game, flipping cards over, sorting them into their respective places on the table. 

“Get your damn behind to the lobby!” Her crude voice echoed through the Choker, Bro instantly cringing at the demand. That woman was terrifying, and he wasn’t about to get on her bad side. 

“ Yep, coming over now, sorry! ” He reassured, forgetting his game real quick when he realized Semiu meant business. The lounge was really only a small while away from the lobby; he didn’t know why Enjin couldn’t just walk over himself. 

“ Why do I have to come over there, may I ask? ” Bro questioned, leaving the room without a second glance at the cards he left behind. That was his twentieth round of solitaire of the day; it was probably a good thing Semiu was calling him away from it.

“ Apparently, Enjin found a package at the entrance of the HQ, like not at the doors but at the back door entrance? And guess what. It has your name on it,” Semiu answered, and even bro could hear the bit of bafflement in her voice. His brows furrowed, confused as to how someone else knew about their more secretive entrance. And whoever it was decided that it was the place to drop off a package, and on top of that, to him? He quickened his step at that, curious now about this package that was delivered to his name. He was already close enough in range to hear people talking in the lobby, so he swiftly ended the call, jogging the rest of the way to the entrance.

Enjin, along with Gris, Semiu, and Riyo, waited for him in the Lobby. The four most nosiest members of the Cleaners, basically, minus Arkah and Guita. Finally entering the room, he could see the small box atop the desk, somehow still unopened even with Enjin being in the same room as it. 

“ Man, Bro, I needed you here like way earlier. Semiu keeps slapping my hands away from the damn box! ” Enjin yapped, the absolute look of impatience plastered on his face. Gris was beside him, jabbing Enjin with his elbow, telling him to shut his trap. And like daughter, like father, Riyo also started yapping as well. 

“ You didn’t have someone deliver this to the back right? ‘Cause it’s supposed to be secret, ya’know- Do you know what's in it? I tried sneaking a peek too, but Semiu doesn’t care who's reaching; she keeps slappin’. “ The redhead waved her hand in the air, exaggerating the woman's warnings. 

“Y'all bein’ impatient, let the man figure out whatever it is first, then we can start budding into his business.” Semiu’s words were sharp, shutting up both Enjins and Riyos, pouting. She grabbed the small parcel, handing it over to Bro with an inspecting and curious eye.

“You really think I'd have something delivered to the back entrance? That seems like something Enjin would do, not me. ” Bro replied, not enjoying that Riyo would even think that he would do some idiotic thing like that. Retrieving the small box from Semiu, he was glad that even though she was also a snoop, she had some decency not to let the others peek at the contents before him. 

The box was simple, a small cardboard case with a lid atop; it was rather small and thin. Had to be four by eight inches, and a depth of two at most. It was brown, with no actual tags or stickers on it. Instead, in the corner, “To: Bro Santa” was written in cursive. He didn’t know anyone who actually wrote in cursive ‘cept Tomme, Boss, and Tamsy, and he didn’t believe that it was from them. Opening the small parcel, his attention immediately focused on the beige fabric inside, with an odd pattern depicting funky-looking faces, with crossed eyes and sharp teeth curved in unnatural smiles. With widening eyes, he quickly lifted the item from the box, feeling the worn fabric between his fingers, and in a second, the piece of fabric elongated, becoming much longer than its original form, his name etched onto the piece of fabric where he held Cloth tight. 

“Bro. How the fuck!?” It was Enjin who first broke the silence, practically jumping him to look at the apparently newly returned Jinki. Bro quickly deactivated it, the long piece of fabric returning to its original form in less than a second. He was baffled, eyes wide in shock, and his mouth slightly agape in awe. Bro turned the cloth around his hands, looking over the piece of fabric with a close eye. There wasn’t anything odd about it, the only difference from before was a small stitched line in the fabric, though it was barely visible.

“Are you going to answer me Bro?!” Enjin's voice rang in his ear, stealing his attention away from Cloth. 

“You think I know!? I am so fucking utterly confused right now, Enjin!” Bro yelled, pushing the intruding man away. Enjin just pushed back, to Bro’s frustration. The man was shoving himself into Bro, eyes bulging at the Jinki he held in his hands. Gris has to forcefully pull him off, reprimanding the idiot blonde. 

“There’s a letter inside, read it!” Semiu ushered, leaning over her desk to peek at what was still in the box. She was correct, too; there was a neatly folded piece of paper that Bro hadn’t even noticed yet, tucked in the corner where Cloth previously was. Folding the fabric around his hand once more and holding it tightly in his palm, he grabbed the piece of paper hidden in the corner. He took one more searching look into the box. Seeing nothing else, he placed it back down on the desk, now unfolding the small paper before reading it to himself, before he would start blabbering it out loud.  

“ Hey, now I’m going to be honest here and say that I don’t quite care for stealing another one's beloved item. So, I’m giving this back to you, I think I remember you calling her Cloth, but I ain’t too sure. My apologies for the whole lotta’ worry I must’ve given ya when I took it, needed to eliminate you from the field, be able to free up another hand to herd the rest of y'all. “

“ But, I fixed it up right, sewed up the small tear I caused, barely even visible now, ironed it, even folded it up nicely. Should be good as gold now that I’m returning it to you. “

“ Though, if I’m going to be honest still, I think you also looked rather fine without it, with your hair all let down, was a damn pretty sight. Pretty as a picture.” 

“ Hope we can talk another time again, without all that hostile business.”

“`Begalkeit”

The man couldn’t even utter a word before Enjin tried snatching the paper from his hands. Bro basically had to fight the man off of him whilst keeping the small note intact in his other hand. In the end, Bro came out on top, a foot planted onto the man's face whilst pinning him down on the floor with his free hand. 

“ Dude I need to know now what that note says!” Enjin whined, still pinned below the other man, and his arm still reaching past Bro’s broad shoulders in futile hope to snag the piece of paper.

“So? What does it say? Don’t leave us in the dark Bro.” Semiu Pestered, still towering over her desk, ignoring the fact that Bro had Enjin in a choke hold just a second earlier. The question echoed in Bro’s head; he didn’t think he could give either of them a straight answer with how scattered he was at that current moment. Both by the fact that apparently this Raider decided to return his Beloved instrument back to him, or the other fact that the same man who tried to kill the lot of them just admitted that Bro looked “rather fine” and “Pretty as a picture” with his hair down.

Worse for worse, he felt his face heating up while he tried his best to summarize the letter in the most-least humiliating way for himself. Scratch that, he wasn’t going to mention any part of the note past the simple “I don’t quite care for stealing another one’s item” leaving out the word “beloved” for obvious reasons.

Bro swallowed down his nerves, finally speaking,“ He doesn’t like stealing others’ instruments. That basically all it says, odd coming from a raider, but. .” Bro let out a long sigh, finally standing upright, releasing Enjin from his hold. “ Guy was just odd in general.” Bro crumpled the note in his hand, shoving the discarded piece of paper into his pocket before returning his attention to his Jinki.

“ He. . Gave it back ‘cause he doesn’t like stealing vital instruments? Now that's an odd thing coming from the guy that was supposed to offer up you and your child’s items to the damn beast. . .” Semiu fell back into her chair, tapping her chin while she took in that small bit of information, not exactly believing the man's intentions.

“That long note was just saying that? No way, let me read it. Bro, I've been telling you to get glasses since forever ago.” Gris persisted, stepping over Enjin, who was still on the floor. While he was polite enough not to start trying to steal it from the man's pocket, he still held his hand up waiting for Bro to drop the crumpled paper into it. 

“I know what I read, I just summarized it ‘cause the man wrote a lot just for it all to basically say that.” The man complained, ignoring the held-out hand, whilst tying the headband behind his head, tucking the excess fabric beneath his hair. “I’m just glad to have Cloth back, who cares about that man’s intentions or apparently 'good heart'? I get to have my job back and running, and take care of my kids on the field while doing so again.” Bro sighed, his hands leaving his hair finally after straightening the fabric across his temple.

“Defensive. . . Bro can’t we just read it ourselves?” Riyo finally peeped up. Her hands clasped behind her back with her heels crossed while she tried to persuade him. “We wanna know exactly what was said!” Confidence filling her voice as she pestered him.

“I think what you all need is to mind your own business for once, hm?” He retorted, though he already noticed Semiu reaching for her choker to tell the news to the boss. The man was only going to have a few minutes of peace before he was called down to the big man's office unless he said something.

“Dude-“ Enjin, still lying on the floor, was cut off by a swift kick to his side, the blonde dramatically clutching his side as if the man kicked it with all his might in steel-toed boots. Why was that man such a persistent drama queen?

“ Give me a minute, won’t ya?” Bro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose while he gathered his thoughts. What the man needed was space away from the others; he didn’t think he could grasp exactly what and why was happening right now, and the constant pestering and interruptions weren’t of any help at this moment. Bro groaned, head dipping backwards, his hand sliding down his face whilst he contemplated his excuse for leaving. “Look, tell boss I’ll be with him later today, I’ll show him the letter and. . . Cloth,” That was odd to say after seven long days of him adapting to the loss. Semiu nodded, still trying to get a hold of the man via her choker; he likely didn’t have his on at the moment.

Bro turned back towards the hall he had just previously sped-walked from, ignoring all the comments and displeasures from his colleagues while he walked away. The man exhaled a long sigh of relief, finally walking out of earshot of the hooligans still conversing in the lobby. He searched for the paper in his pocket, pulling it out while unfolding the crumpled mess. He took his time, reading it once more, then twice. It didn’t help at all, rereading the questionably flirtatious wording in the letter. It actually made it worse, each time he skimmed the words, realizing that there was no doubt that those were the damn intentions of Bundus’s writing. Second to that, he didn’t enjoy how his face felt like it was flushing a few degrees warmer every time he read them.

Swallowing down a gulp, he turned the thin letter over, looking for anything else that might have been written down. The backside was completely blank, nothing of interest until he flipped the paper again. It was right beneath where his thumb covered the paper that he spotted another addition to the letter. It was written in a much smaller font than the rest of the note, hidden right where the bulk of his thumb had held the small paper previously.

“As I said, I was hoping the two of us could talk some more without the hostility of our jobs between us.”

Right beside the small postscript, Bro noticed the dark maroon spot, a small droplet of what was most definitely Bundus Begalkeit’s dried blood. A clear invitation to talk more without the trouble of fighting, and it was absolutely absurd. Bro knew the raider was an odd man from the get-go, claimed to be an individualist, had talked to the man like they were two old friends chewing the fat, even saved dear from flying out that car, even though he was just previously trying to kill the two of them. Bro didn’t understand what the hell was wrong with this guy, taking Cloth just to return it with a flirtatious letter alongside it? The man let out an audible groan through his teeth, jogging up the stairwell and pocketing the note once again.

He thought back to the day, every single interaction with the southern blonde, every time he spoke to Bro, and even when he spoke to Dear, too. He was. . . nice to talk to, he didn’t talk crudely, was oddly gentle with dear, even gave him an endearing nickname, even though the boy despised it. The man had replayed that day so many times in his head, but now that he thought about it once more, with a new, workplace-inappropriate lens, he felt so fucked. The man's southern-accented voice, low and gritty, reading off the paper in his pocket, specifically the flirtatious comments, had him spiraling into insanity. Pushing past his door, Bro locked it behind him, pressing his temple into the wooden frame. 

The fact that he was even considering the addition of the older man's blood into his collar meant something he didn’t want to acknowledge. Not while he slowly pulled out the paper, uncrumpling it once again before ripping it in half, perfectly where one paragraph ended, and the other started, perfectly where the additional questionable words of affection no longer belonged with the rest of the letter. And he was questioning his own judgement as he slicked his finger with spit, rubbing the dried stain on the paper before touching the traces of blood onto his choker.

Bro paused, breathing long, heavy breaths as he thought about what he was about to do. About the fact that his index finger and thumb were already on his choker, ready at the moment he made the call. It was idiotic; among his friends, he should've been the most steady-headed, supposed to not be an idiot, and not impulsively do questionable things that have a high chance of ending horribly. That train of thought ended abruptly when a deep southern voice echoed from his choker.