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There was a tower growing in the wasteland.
It wasn't a very tall tower, yet. Or very structurally sound. For the first couple of days the few souls brave or foolish enough to pass through that stretch of wasteland dismissed it as just another trash mound. There was no shortage of them, and there was nothing about that particular pile of trash that immediately differentiated it from any of the others around it.
Keeping track of trash mounds in No Man's Land would be like keeping track of sand dunes in the desert, so nobody really cared enough notice that this particular pile of trash shifted faster than all the ones around it. On the order of hours and days instead of weeks. It grew taller and taller, like the pile of trash was trying to reach up into the sky, before collapsing in on its own weight, allowing the cycle to repeat again and again.
It wasn't a regular cycle either. Each time the tower collapsed and was rebuilt, it would grow taller and last longer before collapsing again.
By the time the trash storm arrived, the tower had been growing steadily for nine days.
The young artist from Canvas Town who had been possessed by the idea of placing a giant piece of art on the tallest mound of trash in the No Man's Land knew none of this. Nor did they bother to check the forecast to see if there would be a trash storm in the area that day.
Equally oblivious were the small family of travelers braving their way through the wasteland in search of a better life.
“We'll be alright,” the father said. “We should get there before nightfall. We found a lot of good stuff while we've been traveling through here. It'll sell for a good price in the city. Not to mention the car.”
“Do we really hafta sell the car?” The daughter asked, hugging the back seat as if she could personally keep whoever they'd sell it to from getting it.
“I know it's gotten us through a lot, honey” the mother said, tapping her hands on the wheel. “But once we reach the city, we won't need it anymore.”
Not to mention, the parents didn't say, its original owners might still be looking for it.
“But I like riding in it,” she insisted, “an' figuring out what's wrong with it when it's broken, an' fixing it when we find out what broke, an'...”
They had never managed to fix the radio. If they had, they'd have spent the day trying to find shelter instead of driving out in the open.
“Tell you what,” the father said, “If we get enough money from our trunk full of salvage, maybe we won't have to sell the car.”
It was barely visible from behind her breathing mask, but the daughter's eyes lit up. “Really?”
The father smiled. “Really.”
The mother side-eyed the father. 'Don't make promises you can't keep, sweetie.'
The father smiled at the mother. 'We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, darling.' Then, he winked at her. 'Besides, I said maybe.'
The son was barely a year old and fast asleep, so he said nothing.
In fifteen minutes, he would be awake, crying and scared in the arms of the daughter as a stranger pulled the both of them out of the wreckage of the car. The parents wouldn't say anything ever again.
-
Remlin was trying their best to be brave.
Inspiration did not care about where it struck, and art couldn't care less about the weather forecast, but Remlin had overlooked the crucial fact that the human body did.
And now she was hiding in the container of an old broken-down truck while the world exploded around them.
No. Not hiding. Just... making a strategic retreat, so they could make more art later. It happened sometimes when people painted in places that didn't appreciate artistic beauty. The local authorities would sic the Hell Guard on 'em and they'd have to make a speedy exit before they got caught.
This was like that, except instead of avoiding the Hell Guard, Remlin had to avoid falling pieces of trash.
There was almost no light coming through the crack they had squeezed themselves through. What little they could see was just more junk. Wasn't there a spell for making things glow in the dark? A shape took form in Remlin's mind. Yes! That was it!
Remlin knelt down and picked up something that looked and felt like cloth. Yes, this would do.
They brandished their pen, and drew the spell. The way they drew it, it would last for about ten minutes. Hopefully the trash storm would be over by then
A little plush dragon began to glow a dim but pleasant green. Remlin wasn't all that big on three-dimensional art themselves, but they could still appreciate good craftsmanship now that it was visible. There was wire sewn inside of it so that whoever used to own the thing could pose it however they liked. Right now, it was crouched down, with its wings flared open like it was about to jump up and take flight. There were stitches right around where its heart could have been if it were a real animal, like it had gotten a hole in it that someone had since patched up.
It didn't look like trash.
It looked well-loved.
The ground rumbled underneath Remlin.
Exploring the shelter more would be better than thinking about why they were there in the first place.
There was a huge scrap of metal wedged tightly between the ceiling and the floor in the very center of the place, and the dim light of the glowing dragon revealed more trash on the ground, lined against the wall in a neat little row; A plush rabbit, a lamp, a pair of shoes, a pocketknife, a wooden chair, a plastic poseable figurine, a pepper grinder, a metal table.
The metal table was more like what she'd been expecting the rest of the place to look like. A heap of random tools, bits and bobs that Remlin never cared enough to learn the names for.
In the middle all that mess was a radio, towering above it all like a beautiful portrait painted over an abstract sea of color. A bit of music would be good to help block off the booms and bangs of giant pieces of trash from the Sphere hitting the ground, so Remlin tried turning it on.
No power. Rats.
There was a dented metal cabinet with pull-out drawers right next to the table. Maybe there were batteries in there? Working batteries were pretty rare, but whoever'd been hanging out here was obviously pretty good at finding stuff.
The sound of a door creaking open interrupted Remlin's opening of the topmost cabinet drawer.
“Heeey!” Remlin put on their best grin as they turned to face whoever opened the door. Probably the person who hung out here. “Don't mind me, I'm just hanging out here until the Trash Storm's over. Your radio doesn't work, by the way. I didn't do anything to it, I just thought you should--”
Then, they actually processed what they were seeing.
The dim light of the outside combined with the dull glow of the dragon revealed three figures. There was a taller one in a white coat, who was leaning to the side to set down a younger kid who'd been hugging them tightly with their arms and legs, burying their face against the taller one's neck and shaking. Crying? Probably crying.
The toddler in the taller one's other arm was definitely crying.
Then the big kid handed the toddler to the smaller kid and they were both crying together. But not the big kid, weirdly enough.
The lack of grown-ups coming in with them probably had something to do with it.
It was such a bummer.
Remlin decided to walk up to them.
“Losing your grown-ups sucks,” they said. “I lost mine a couple days ago and I still catch myself trying to show him my latest piece of art, sometimes, or asking him how he managed a certain technique with the paint.”
“We were gonna go to the city,” the smaller kid said between sobs, “Mama-- mama said she has a sister there who could help us. An'-- an' we were gonna sell our salvage an' get enough money to keep the car an'... But they're not-- An' now--” She brought her hands up to fiddle with her gas mask. Probably to clear all the tears and snot out of it, but the bigger kid gently grabbed her hand and shook his head.
He was wearing gloves, Remlin noticed. Gloves with a familiar symbol on them.
“Oh, she'll be fine for a little bit,” Remlin said, “all those tears and snot and stuff probably isn't good for it, y'know? Holding your breath probably wouldn't hurt, though.”
The older kid gave a metallic sounding sigh through his own gas mask, but let go of the girl's hand and nodded.
Remlin knelt down and handed the kids the glowing plush dragon. “My name's Remlin, what's yours?”
“Honey,” the girl said, once she was done wiping her face and putting her mask back on. “An' my Baby Brother's Sugar.”
She'd been bouncing the toddler on her knee since the bigger kid had given him to her, and seeing the glowing dragon had finally gotten him to stop crying.
“Light,” Sugar said, grabbing at the plushie and hugging it tightly.
“That's right, it's light. How, um... How's it light? And, um... what is it?”
Remlin grinned and twirled Pen in her hands. “My vital instrument lets me draw spells on things. And it's one of those creatures from before the world got trashed. They're called dragons.”
“Dragons...” the girl muttered.
The kid in the white coat just stared at Remlin. Stared at all of them, actually. Then he went over to the table where the radio was without saying a word.
“Yooo! Wait up!” Remlin very nearly bumped into him as they ran to catch up. “You forgot to tell me your name! You're their brother, right? How'd you know about this place? How'd you know about the door?”
The kid in the white coat was still just staring at her. Then he shook his head.
“He's not...” Honey began. Stopped. Then began again. “I don'kno who he is. There was a crash. An' mom was-- an' dad was-- an' I couldn't move an' then... an' then he was there. And we were out.”
“Huh,” something clicked in their mind. “Aha! So you're the guy who's been using this place as a hideout, then! How can you see in here?”
He still wasn't saying anything. Just fiddling with that radio in the dull half-light that wasn't even bright enough to be half.
Remlin leaned over his shoulder. “Not very chatty, are ya?”
The kid froze for a second when Remlin touched him. Then shook his head.
“You gonna tell me your name, at least?”
He shook his head again.
“He's wearing a Shpereite coat,” Honey said. “I noticed, when we were outside. Maybe he's a--”
“HATE.” The radio crackled to life, startling Remlin so much that they toppled to the floor. It was A staticky rendition of someone from Canvas Town reading an old book. Turned up to maximum volume. “LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE--” the sound dissolved back into static. Or was that the kid in the Sphereite coat growling? Remlin couldn't tell. His gas mask gave a weird metallic quality to all his vocalizations.
Remlin picked themself back up, and grinned. “Oh, cool! You got the radio to work! Do you get the weather all the way out here? I wanna know when the trash storm's gonna end!”
Soon, according to the weatherman. The trash storm was gonna end soon.
-
There were humans inside of Rudo's tower.
He had given up on making it hollow so that the staircase could be on the inside after the fifth time the walls collapsed in on themselves, but he still wanted a space to himself. Somewhere other than his own body where he could keep what little he had safe from storms or other trash beasts.
He'd been fixing up things when he wasn't busy building his staircase to the city. Not to add to the tower. Not even to integrate into himself. Just... to have.
He'd just finished fixing up an extremely complicated audio entertainment system. A combination Radio/Tape Recorder/CD player that had needed almost half of its parts repaired or replaced and that had been almost impossible to test because of the scarcity of working CDs and cassette tapes. He'd needed to fight off three trash beasts just to get one mostly functional CD, and another five for the tape.
His first impulse when he'd gotten it working was to call for Regto.
Stupid. Regto was dead. Even if he was alive and down here with him, what was left of Rudo couldn't even talk.
His face was a cracked and broken gas mask. His hair was a nest of torn up newspaper. His entire body was a tangle of scrap and debris. The only part of the original Rudo that was left were the ashes he kept in a tightly screwed plastic bottle where his heart should have been, the bones that the electrical fire he'd cremated himself in wasn't hot enough to destroy, the coat he'd been thrown out in, and his hands.
His gloves had always been his hands, really. When Rudo was alive, they were the only things that kept him from going insane with pain. They let him move his fingers and use his hands almost normally. Now, they were the only things that kept him from being just like all the trash beasts he fought: Feral masses of directionless hate.
What was left of Rudo was still a feral mass of hate, he knew that much. But it wasn't directionless, no. His hatred was directed firmly upward.
Which was why was building the tower.
Since making the decision to have the way up be on the outside, he'd been building it around a mostly intact semi-truck. Even if it collapsed, all of his things would be safe inside the big container that was hitched up to it. It had been working well so far, but this was the first time it would need to withstand a trash storm.
And now there were humans inside of it.
Part of it was his own fault. He'd sensed a car driving nearby when the trash storm started. Felt two heartbeats pounding under trash and wreckage. Heard the screams.
He couldn't just do nothing.
Turns out, they'd seen their parents die too.
He wouldn't let them end up like him.
By the time he'd managed to get back with a young girl crying in one arm and a toddler crying in another, there was another human sheltering in his tower.
That one had been wandering nearby a lot over the past few days. Rudo had been keeping track of them, so he could avoid being seen. Keeping track of any other trash beasts that might be nearby, too.
He was glad they had made it to his shelter. But it was weird, sharing a space with humans after so long by himself.
And it was weird that they kept asking him questions, even when they knew he couldn't answer.
“So, this is your hideout, huh?” The human named Remlin was looking all around in the dull light of the little plush dragon Rudo had patched up before starting work on his radio.
Rudo nodded.
“Why'd you set it up all the way out here? It seems like you and your tinkering would do great in Canvas Town.”
Rudo shook his head.
“Why not? What, did you try getting in with bad intentions or something?”
Only if “what he was and what he used to be” could be considered bad intentions.
Rudo shook his head again. Then, he tried something out.
He'd had the tape set to “Record,” before. All he had to do now was rewind and play.
“Trash.” The radio said in Remlin's voice. Rudo rewound and fast-forwarded, trying to get his message across. “not... trash. --ou got the... trash... to work!”
“Are you...” The human named Honey began, “Copying our voices with the radio? To talk?”
Rudo nodded. “Not very chatty, are ya?... Radio? To talk?”
“Smart,” Remlin nodded in approval. “What's not smart is going all the way out here alone everyday to do all your tinkering and fixing.”
Rudo just glared at her. It was hard to glare without any real eyes, but he hoped he'd gotten the point across.
“What, it's not! I should also have known better! I was gonna hang a banner on the mound of trash we're sitting under and then paint on it!”
“Why?” Honey asked. “Isn't that dangerous?”
A feral grin crossed Remlin's face. “Art doesn't care about what's dangerous.”
“...not smart.” Rudo added in Remlin's voice.
It was weird, but he felt like he was getting the hang of it.
If he could find a way to control the speakers better, maybe he could use his own voice.
A stupid thought. They wouldn't be here long enough for him to need it.
The trash storm was already over.
-
So, it started out as a fairly routine Post-Trash Storm Cleaning with a side of Wandering Spellcaster Retrieval (Happened more often than you'd think, with that lot. At a certain point, you just expected Canvas Town's Spellcaster to do something extremely stupid like go out into a no-man's land during a trash storm in the name of art). At least Remlin had used their choker to contact the Mayor of Canvas Town after the storm passed through to let everyone know that they were alive and safe and had made a couple new friends. They even gave out the general area where people should look for them. Gob had been in the habit of making everyone worried sick by disappearing for days on end without telling anyone where he'd run off to until after he came back. And even then, only after they kept needling him about it. Had been.
All of the cleaners had been invited to the funeral, at least. It was very kind of them.
“Do you hear that?” Gris asked, brows furrowed.
Enjin smirked as he got the car airborne for the fifth time in as many minutes. “What, The sound of everyone being awake and alert in case we get ambushed by trash beasts? Sure!”
“That's not an excuse for your reckless driving!” Tomme shouted, gripping onto her car seat for dear life.
She wasn't alone in that. Zanka and Riyo were terrified in the back seats right there with her.
“No,” Gris pointed out the window. “That.”
Enjin laughed. “Did you just try pointing at a sound?” But he did hear it.
Just barely, in the distance, the sound of people singing.
Ooh babe,
Thought we were somethin'
I loved you somethin' fierce
Alright.
Someone had turned up their speakers to August levels, and two kids were singing along.
But now babe
You say we're nothin'!
That there was nothin' here
At all!
Enjin turned the car to head towards them.
I loved you to pieces you scattered them all!
One of the voices belting out the bridge distinctly belonged to Remlin.
Riyo's eyes widened. “Did they carry a boom box all the way out here?”
Enjin shrugged. “Sounds like something a protege of Gob would do.”
You ripped out my heart and you set me to fall
But i'll keep on livin' spite of it all!
“Stupid.” Zanka pinched the bridge of his nose as the chorus hit. “They're gonna attract so many trash beasts.”
Tossed me in the trash where you told me to crawl!
Yeah i'll keep on livin' in spite of it all!
“Like I said,” Enjin sighed. “Amazingly skilled artist. Zero self-preservation instincts.” He pressed harder on the gas pedal. “Come on, team Akuta, let's make sure Canvas Town doesn't lose another spellcaster.”
There hadn't been as many Trash Beasts reported in this area since the last time a trash storm passed through. In a regular polluted zone, it was a good sign. It meant the area was actually becoming safer for people to travel through.
In a no man's land, it just meant that all that negative energy was pooling up, getting ready to create something bigger and meaner than a single giver could handle. Maybe even a single team.
Enjin finally saw them as the car crested a hill of trash.
Ooh babe,
Heard you were livin'
Above them livin' clouds
Today.
There was Remlin, singing their heart out, walking next to a little girl singing with them. On there other side there was a figure in a dirty white coat and a red full face, carrying a radio in his hands and a toddler on his shoulders. Honey and Sugar the stranded travelers, and the nameless mute scavenger Remlin had told the mayor about.
Me babe,
I'm down here givin'
My heart i'm givin' out
To stay!
“Those are Sphereite clothes,” Gris muttered to Enjin. “Kid must be quite the scavenger to find something like that.”
I loved you to pieces you scattered them all!
Remlin saw them, waved, and began running towards them. Honey tried running after them, but tripped.
The nameless scavenger caught her before she hit the ground, picked her up, and started carrying her while keeping pace with Remlin.
“Strong kid,” Enjin muttered. From the way Bro Santa talked, carrying a kid and a toddler at the same time was not easy, let alone with a heavy piece of equipment like that radio.
And yet this kid was moving with all three like they were nothing.
You ripped out my heart and you set me to fall
But i'll keep on livin' spite of it all!
Tossed me in the trash where you told me to crawl!
Yeah i'll keep on livin in spite of it all!
The guitar solo was in full swing by the time they were close enough for Enjin to park the car and everyone piled out.
“Hey you guys!” Remlin called. “Thanks for picking us up!”
Enjin didn't hear them. He was too busy staring at the mysterious scavenger who even now was setting the toddler and little girl on the floor.
There was a crack in its gas mask.
Breathing through it would have been useless.
The scavenger should have been dead.
Enjin looked closer as everyone talked around him. Either his eyes were playing tricks on him or the scavenger wasn't breathing.
It was when the scavenger turned the volume down on the radio that clinched it. There was a glint of metal shining through between the sleeve of the Sphereite coat and the wrist big gloves.
Pipes and wire.
“Kids,” Enjin activated Umbreaker. “Step away from that trash beast.”
Everyone went quiet and stared at him. Except for the humanoid trash beast.
It stopped what it was doing and immediately looked behind itself, holding an arm out in front of Remlin and the little kids.
Was it... trying to protect them?
Its hood had fallen back with the speed at which it whirled around. Making it immediately obvious to everyone what it was. Its hair was made of torn up newspaper. Its neck was made out of styrofoam and metal foil, with assorted knife and razor blades sticking out of the back. Sharp end out, like one of Guita's Kaiju.
Zanka used the trash beast's apparent distraction to go on the attack. Striking it hard in the back with his powered up Assistaff.
The trash beast roared, and struck Zanka back. There was the aggression that Enjin was used to seeing from those things.
So why wasn't it there before?
“Bad!” Sugar started to cry. “Bad!”
“What are you doing?” Honey asked.
“Your 'friend' is a trash beast,” Zanka crouched down, preparing to strike while bracing for the trash beast to attack. “You're lucky it didn't kill you.”
The trash beast was crouched as well, doing much the same. Just with a lot more metallic growling.
“That's stupid,” Remlin crossed their arms. “Don't you guys say that trash beasts kill without thinking? All I've seen from him is a lot of thinking and no killing.”
“He saved us!” Honey added.
“That's what's bugging me about this,” Enjin said, even as he, Gris, and Riyo herded the kids behind them. “Tomme, have you ever heard of humanoid trash beasts before?”
“No,” Tomme rifled through her notebook. “I didn't think it was possible. But from my observations and research, trash beasts tend to imitate certain behaviors of the animals they look like. It could be that this one--”
“Heads up,” Riyo called. “It's changing shape. Looks like it's about to attack.”
Enjin watched as the trash beast shifted. The soles of its shoes opened up and metal talons extended out of it. A tail of chain and barbed wire snaked out of a hole in its trousers. The sphereite coat zipped itself open, revealing pipes and beams that unfurled into a new set of limbs. Thin arms with long fingers, connected to each other by the cloth of the coat.
“That thing's got wings!”
“Think it can use them?”
“I don't plan on letting us find out!”
Zanka leapt to attack, and with a flap of its wings the trash beast did the same.
Leapt right over Zanka.
Right over all of them.
It looked almost like a larger version of that plush creature Sugar was holding.
And it revealed something horrifying that had previously been hidden under that Sphereite coat.
“Riyo,” Enjin breathed. “Tell me that isn't what I think it is.”
“I'd love to,” Riyo replied, “But I promised I wouldn't lie to you.”
“Right,” Enjin choked out.
There was a human ribcage in there, glowing red with Anima. The trash beast's gloves had the same glow to them now, too.
“Tomme,” Enjin was beginning to feel a little hysterical. “what does your notebook say about trash beasts that form from organic matter? Let's say... an animal skeleton.”
“As far as anyone has seen, they don't exist,” Tomme said. “Animals have their own Anima, so the theory is that it lingers in their bodies after they die, and doesn't mix well with the Anima that accumulates to form trash beasts.”
Enjin would have loved to have the time to think about the implications of that more, but unfortunately, their humanoid trash beast friend wasn't just gliding over their heads to escape.
Turns out, playing that song at full blast did attract some trash beasts after all.
And from the way they were charging at them, these ones were definitely the kill-or-be-killed type.
A heavy metal song began blasting out of the humanoid trash beast as it punched the leader of the herd into the ground.
NEVER LET GO FOREVER!
NEVER LET GO FOREVER!
NEVER LET GO FOREVER!
NEVER LET GO FOREVER!
World, now change!
“A trash beast fighting another trash beast, huh.” Gris was staring in amazement. “That's not something you see every day.”
“Yeah,” Enjin grinned. “Can't believe we're getting shown up by a trash beast of all things.”
"It's playing its own hype music." Zanka's eyes widened. "It's a person."
"We coulda told you that!" Remlin stomped.
"Yeah," Enjin smiled down at them. "Sorry we didn't listen." He brandished Umbreaker again and prepared to attack the real threats. “Well, team Akuta? We gonna let our new friend have all the fun?”
Ripper crackled to life under Riyo's feet. “No way in hell.”
-
The four of them made quick work of the little herd of trash beasts. Turns out, trash beasts were just as effective at killing trash beasts as Vital Instruments were. Anima was Anima, Enjin guessed, so it made sense.
Their trash beast was a lot more humanoid again now that the fighting was over. Its tail was still out, lashing from side to side, but its talons were sheathed and its wings were tucked neatly back under its coat.
And now it was taking a defensive stance against them.
“Woah,” Enjin raised his hands, palms open, Umbreaker deactivated and hanging loosely from his arm. “There's no need for all of that. How about this: We don't hurt you if you don't hurt us, deal?”
The friendly trash beast gave a metallic rumble, and very slowly nodded.
Notably, it did not ease its stance.
“Hey,” Zanka stepped forward. Their trash beast immediately shifted his stance to face him, and Zanka immediately halted. “I want to apologize for attacking you earlier.”
Their trash beast cocked his head to the side. It crackled with static from the radio in its chest, before Zanka's own voice echoed back at them. “Apologize. For attacking... Trash beast.” That last part was Enjin's voice. More static, and then Remlin's voice, “Huh?”
Freaky.
But the cleaners had dealt with worse.
Zanka nodded, and then bowed. “It was uncalled for. I should have known you weren't a threat from the way you were acting around those kids.”
“Hell yeah you should've!” Remlin called out from behind them. They were back with Gris and Tomme.
Their trash beast just kept staring at them, clearly bewildered by this turn of events. He shifted to look at the kids, and repeated in Remlin's voice, “Huh?”
“Don't look at me,” Remlin shrugged. “It's your choice if you want to forgive them or not.”
“Usually,” Honey added, “You say things like 'I forgive you' or 'apology accepted'.”
There was a lot of metallic rumbling as their trash beast mulled it over.
Instead of responding, it plunged its arm into the remains of the trash beast it had killed and pulled out a pale gray jacket. It was stained and ratty on the edges, but so was everything else in this dump.
Then it took off its Sphereite coat.
Everyone took a step back. Enjin heard someone gasp.
Exposed like that, and no longer glowing red with anima, it was more obvious than ever that this trash beast was built around a human skeleton. A rib-cage wrapped around garbage in a macabre sort of hug, anchored together by a spine that went down into the trash beast's trousers. Wire wrapped all up and down the length of it, securing the same sort of blades that were jutting out of its styrofoam neck.
Then it put the gray jacket on, put its Sphereite coat on the ground, and took a step back.
“What are you doing?” Enjin tilted his head. “Is this some sorta peace offering?”
There was static, and then Remlin's voice came out from the trash beast. It must've been part of the message she'd given to the mayor.
“...Honey and Sugar... Scavengers... Need to get them to their aunt.”
“It's... for us?” Honey asked. “Why? What can we do with a-- oh. You want us to sell it. Because we-- because we lost...”
“Generous of you,” Enjin stepped forward and took the coat. “They can get a lotta cash selling that coat of yours.”
He handed the coat to Zanka, who gave it to Gris, who gave it to Honey.
Finally, their trash beast eased its defensive stance.
“apology accepted.”
“So, you got a name?” Enjin asked, swinging Umbreaker around in his arm and noting the subtle movements of their trash beast's head as it tracked it. “Feels weird just calling you 'trash beast', now that we know you're a person. Actually, wait, are you a person? Or just a really smart trash beast?”
Enjin heard the foot entering his mouth as soon as he'd put it there.
“Sorry, that didn't come out right, what I meant to say was--”
Their trash beast inclined his head in away that implied it was trying to glare (which Enjin really shouldn't have found adorable, but this was where they were at now,) and gave Enjin the middle finger.
Riyo was practically doubled over laughing. “I think that answers your question,”
Enjin laughed with her. “Oh yeah. Never met something that could be rude without being a person. Not that it wasn't uncalled for.”
“Rude... Oh.” Enjin's voice came out from the trash beast.
“What's that?”
“Name... Rude... Oh.”
“Rudo, huh?” Enjin smiled. “ Name's Enjin. Nice to meet you. How would you feel about escorting these kids to their homes and then coming with us back to base? You're pretty good at fighting off hostile trash beasts, and we could always use some more Cleaners.”