Chapter Text
As cautious as Venomshank was around most mortals, especially in relation to Sword, there did come the point where he realised that the boy did need to see the world outside of their training arena. He was hopelessly naïve, and that would be just as dangerous as if he didn’t know how to defend himself, so it was with some reluctance that Venomshank left the small bit of safety he’d carved for the two of them, and struck out into the wide world.
Sword was sitting on his shoulders, a rare bit of informality for them, and he was looking around in wide-eyed wonder, pointing at signs or posters or bits of graffiti and babbling excitedly in a mixture of High Inphernal and regular language. Venomshank would nod along, occasionally turning to answer a question, but kept his head on a swivel, his eyes sliding over the Inphernals moving around them, trying to ascertain if they would be a threat or not.
He caught a few casting dirty looks, but he would shoot back one in return that was just hard, and they’d scowl and move off. Venomshank hoped that most of them had the sense not to go toe to toe with a deity; for he did not wish to bring any more unwitting inphernals into his army, especially in a tumultuous time of peace.
Of course, he was heading to somewhere. He wasn’t just going to set Sword down in a random spot in Crossroads and let him run free to get attacked by some random inphernal with a grudge. There were very few people he trusted enough to look over Sword. One of those was Firebrand, but given recent events, he wasn’t sure his brother would cope well with the news of a new child in the family, and Venomshank wanted to keep Sword’s lineage fairly secret until he was ready. The second was Ghosdeeri, but the stuffy library of the old archivist would not be conclusive to what he wanted to achieve. That left Zuka, his dear old friend. He did hope he wouldn’t mind them dropping around.
Zuka lived in the second layer, but worked in the first, Venomshank knew that much from the few times they’d caught each other when he’d gone out into Crossroads on his own. Venomshank presumed that meant he lived quite comfortably, which was good, years of conflict had battered the poor man, so it was good he was enjoying some comfort in his old age.
Venomshank made sure to triple check the address, before coming to a stop before the smooth, unassuming door. He sighed, the sound echoing on the inside of his mask, then dropped down, letting Sword awkwardly clamber off his shoulders, landing unsteadily on his feet. Venomshank steadied the boy with one hand, before standing to his full height and dusting down his jacket.
“Now.” Venomshank said, keeping his tone measured, “You be on your best behaviour, alright?”
Sword nodded, shifting his helmet and looking to the door.
“Good,” Venomshank said, dusting off his shoulder, then walking to the door and rapping his knuckles three, neat times on it, then stepping back, his heels coming together with a click. He had to wrestle back the urge to repeat that sound. He waited, his gaze flicking up to scan between the various buildings that loomed up around them, cutting the sky into a geometric river of ice grey.
The door finally clicked open, and Zuka answered. He clearly wasn’t expecting visitors, wearing a slightly grease-stained t-shirt, and his thinning hair still messy from sleeping. He stopped, stiffening slightly when he saw Venomshank.
“What do you want?” he growled, straightening his back and glaring up at Venomshank.
“Can I not visit an old friend?” Venomshank said, trying to keep the tinge of hurt out of his voice. He’d always chalked up Zuka curtness during their few brief meetings as him being busy, but maybe there was more to it.
“S’pose not.” Zuka snorted, before glancing over to Sword, “Who’s this?’
“Sword, my current apprentice.” Venomshank said, placing one hand on Sword’s shoulder. The boy smiled, waving his hand at Zuka before holding it out.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you Mr…?”
“Zuka, B.Zuka.” Zuka said, holding his own hand out and shaking Sword’s. The boy was a lot more enthusiastic than Zuka, and Venomshank feared for a split second he’d pull the older inphernal over. Eventually Zuka did tug his hand free, muttering, “Yeah, nice to meet you to kid.” before looking over at Venomshank, “‘He mortal then.”
“I don’t see why that matters.” Venomshank replied, a little curtly, before sweeping one hand towards the threshold of Zuka’s dwelling, “Shall we head inside - no use having this conversation out here.”
Zuka grumbled, but stepped aside, gesturing for them to head in. Sword glanced up at Venomshank, at which he gestured for the boy to go onwards.
A smile split Sword’s face and he tumbled forwards, vanishing into the hall. Venomshank followed, dipping his head carefully to avoid bashing his skull on the doorframe, then stepped fully inside. Sisyphus fluttered through the door just before Zuka shut it, landing on Venomshank’s shoulder.
“I’m not psyched about this alright.” Zuka growled over his shoulder, before stepping towards what Venomshank assumed was the kitchen. Sword was standing in the middle of the hall, playing with the edge of his cloak, and looking over his shoulder towards Venomshank.
“I understand.” Venomshank said, “But you are one of the few people I trust enough to bring Sword around.”
“Right,” Zuka grumbled, flicking his gaze towards the stairs, before turning back to Venomshank, “There’s really no use standing around. C’mon.”
Venomshank dutifully followed Zuka as he walked to the next door, pushing it open into a kitchen space with a small table set up for two places. Sword tailed them, clinging close to the end of Venomshank’s coat tails, most of his earlier excitement fading into apprehension. Venomshank didn’t blame him, this was all very new to him.
Zuka pulled up a chair, and Venomshank took the one opposite him. Sword stood awkwardly at his side, while Zuka glowered at him from across the table.
“How old is he?”
“I turned fourteen just last week.” Sword offered up, a little of his enthusiasm returning.
“Alright.” Zuka said, looking over to Sword, “And you’ve known your mentor for the entirety of that?”
Sword nodded.
Zuka made a noise of consideration, before turning to look at Venomshank.
“So, what’s the story there then?”
“It’s not- not something I wish to share just now.” Venomshank said, having prepared this exact conversation hours earlier, and carefully running through the script.
“Fine.” Zuka said, before glancing past Venomshank.
Venomshank followed his gaze, eventually stopping on a young Inphernal standing at the door and glaring into the room, one arm wrapped around their chest.
They couldn’t have been much older than fourteen themselves, but even then their cheek was mottled with old burn scars, and one of their arms was reduced to a stump, much like Zuka. Their horns were also similar to Zuka’s, except the blue was a shade or two lighter and more of a pastel cornflower, and there was an additional fork on each of them. Their gaze was sharp, and their hair was burnt in patches.
“Who are you?” they demanded. Their voice was a little too loud, sharp, and accusatory.
“This is Venomshank, one of my old colleagues.” Zuka said, “And this is his apprentice, Sword. You two, this is Rocket. Took him in recently.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Rocket.” Sword said, walking over to the young Inphernal and holding his hand out. Rocket looked at it with a sneer, then batted it away.
“What the hell are they doing here then?”
“That’s an excellent question.” Zuka said, his gaze turning to bore into Venomshank’s neck.
“As I said, I wanted to visit an old friend, we haven’t had a proper talk in a while.” Venomshank replied, turning to face his old friend. He wished dearly that this didn’t feel so much like an interrogation. Sure, him and Zuka hadn’t gotten along at the best of times back in his hayday, but they had built a level of rapport. At least Venomshank had hoped for that at least.
Zuka stared at him for a second, steely gaze raking over his features, before sighing and sitting back in his chair.
“Fine,” he grumbled, before turning to Rocket, “You two go and do whatever. I’ll stay here and talk to Venom.”
Sword nodded enthusiastically, and turned to look at Rocket with a wide smile on his face. Rocket snorted in return, and turned to stalk off, heading back to the stairs. Sword trotted behind him, clearly trying to start a conversation with Rocket as he went.
“So,” Venomshank said, as Rocket and Sword vanished upstairs, “You’re a father now.”
“Mm,” Zuka grumbled, “I found him hanging about near Playground - ‘sounds of it he got thrown out.”
“Thrown out of Playground?” Venomshank said, looking over to Zuka, “Surely not! That takes a lot of work to do, especially if he’s native spawned!”
“Yeah, well, he was. Currently won’t say why.” Zuka said, with a heavy shy, “All I can understand about it is that you can do some serious damage with the right explosive gear.”
“I gathered.” Venomshank said. He himself had seen Zuka in action during his hay days as a fighter in the ranks of Blackrock, capable of demolishing entire city blocks in waves of rippling fire and smoke. He supposed a young inphernal in the anarchistic wilds of Playground with a gear even a fraction of the strength of that would cause enough of a ruckus to catch the attention of whatever scant police force Windforce employed.
“Look, either way he’s still getting settled in - poor boy still hasn’t taken his guard down.” Zuka said, glancing towards the stairs again, “I’ve been doing my best to get him settled down here, but it is a struggle.”
“Isn’t it always with children?” Venomshank said, his voice filled with wistful reminiscence, “Of course, Sword likely isn’t half the trouble that young Rocket is.”
“Probably,” Zuka snorted, “Do you even let him outside half the time?”
“As long as he is within my line of sight and doesn’t stray too far from the bounds of our property he can go outside as much as he wishes.” Venomshank replied, keeping his tone measured, “He is promising in his training, though that being said… I still don’t think he is quite ready to stake out on his own without supervision. This is my next best option to ensure he isn’t a complete shut in.”
“Mm,” Zuka grumbled, “So, what’s the story with you and him - thought you had trouble spawning your own kin.”
“I do.” Venomshank said, “And it’s… complicated. I’ll simply say that he came to me when he was very young, and it’s been my duty to keep him safe, and keep him mostly unknown during that time.”
“Fine,” Zuka huffed, “Be vague. It’s what you’re all worth anyways.”
“Sorry?” Venomshank asked, just making sure he had in fact heard that right.
“It’s nothing.” Zuka grumbled, “Forget I said anything.”
“Right,” Venomshank said, with a heavy sigh, “Look, I must reiterate to you that I’m doing this to keep Sword safe.”
“And why’s that again?”
“You’re seeing what’s happening with Firebrand and his child,” Venomshank explained, a hint of desperation slipping into his tone, “I don’t need that level of publicity, neither does Sword, for all my hopes for him - he is still just a boy right now, and with everything happening… I don’t want him to be shoved into a spotlight he can’t live up to.”
Zuka stared back at Venomshank, his expression unreadable and his jaw working, before he leant back with a sigh.
“Fine. That’s a secret that will stay between you and me.”
Venomshank bowed his head in thanks, before settling back and looking to the off white of the ceiling, then brought his head down to focus on Zuka again.
“I knew I could trust you, friend.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zuka grumbled, crossing his arm across his chest, “But outside of… current events , anything interesting happening with you?”
“Can’t say so, no.” Venomshank said, “I don’t get out much these days. You know how mortals can be.”
“You say that like I’m not mortal.”
“Let me rephrase that, you know how the public can be. I’d rather not be hounded by someone asking my opinion on current affairs that I, quite honestly, have no business in.” Venomshank said.
“It is your brother though,” Zuka said, dusting off his shoulder.
“Me and Firebrand never really got along.” Venomshank replied, with a heavy sigh, “Me and him - we have very different desires when it comes to interacting with the public and working with faction governments, and he…” Venomshank paused, trying to condense his feelings about Firebrand into something understandable. But it was really hard to do so, it was essentially boiling down hundreds of years of communication into a few words. “... Let’s just say we never got along.”
“And was any part of that due to the fact you had a habit of stealing things from his hoard?”
Venomshank stiffened at that, his hand flying to his throat where a collection of silver necklaces sat just under his collar - a handful of which had come from Firebrand’s old hoards.
“Well-” Venomshank spluttered, “He doesn’t use half of that stuff - and pure silver and gold is very hard to come by these days. I don’t suppose why I couldn’t get some use out of them.” he paused, thinking on it for a second, “And how do you know about that?”
“He talked about it when I met him.” Zuka said, “Seemed more annoyed than anything. Though I’m sure nothing of value was lost because of it.”
“I wouldn’t allow it.” Venomshank said, dropping his hand to the table, “Somebody spent a lot of hard earned time on that piece and it is my duty to show off its beauty as intended. It’s no use to anyone stuck in some dusty chest somewhere.”
“Yeah, sure.” Zuka huffed, “Either way, how do reckon this whole thing with Firebrand is going to end up.”
“Not well.” Venomshank sighed, “As powerful as he is - as we all are - he underestimates mortals too much. If his advisors can keep a close eye on his actions… maybe things won’t end up quite as tragically as they may do… but I also doubt that.”
“Mm,” Zuka said, turning to glance out of the small window behind him. It didn’t really show much of a view, just the dark grey of the alley behind it - but its sole purpose was to light that space - which it did readily enough.
“And what are your thoughts on this whole thing?” Venomshank asked, looking up to Zuka.
“Look, I don’t know.” Zuka sighed, “I guess I don’t really care. Sure, it's tragic for their kids, but…” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “It doesn’t really concern us, does it?”
“Firebrand rules Crossroads.” Venomshank pointed out, “He’s what keeps order and makes sure no… corrupting ideas, get in here and lead to wider conflict. With him gone… I’m not sure what that would mean for this place.”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t descend into complete anarchy immediately.” Zuka reasoned, “There’s a lot of jurisdiction in place, and it's not like Banland’s police is unheard of.”
“You do make a good point.” Venomshank mused, “I’m just worried, that’s all. I had some nasty run-ins with the Church when it was first starting up, and I don’t want to have any repeats on home soil.”
“Fair enough,” Zuka said, slumping forwards again, bracing his hand against his knee, and fixing his gaze back on Venomshank. The vibrant blue of his eyes had faded significantly over the years, leaving only a thin ring of it around his pupil as a reminder of what was - same as how the colour clung to the ends of his horns. Instead a steely, storm cloud grey consumed the clear blue, sharp and cutting, yet still so tired.
“Either way,” Venomshank sighed, “I just hope this all blows over well. I don’t want the public anymore riled up - especially after last time something major happened.”
“And that was?”
“I believe it was Darkheart - or maybe Illumina. It was a massive disagreement between them - led to the first Lost Temple civil war actually. Took several decades for the public to calm down enough for me to be comfortable interacting with them again. Happened long before you were spawned of course.”
“I’ll believe you on that.” Zuka grumbled, “If I know anything about Lost Temple is that love tearing eachother apart at every opportunity.”
“Wasn’t always like that.” Venomshank said, “But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about the storied politics of another faction, especially after what happened.”
“What, with the ambassador programme?” Zuka said, “Yeah, I’d rather not dwell on that disaster.”
Venomshank nodded, glancing to the walls of the room, which were each painted a soft white. He returned his gaze back to Zuka.
“Speaking of, how are you doing? I understand this retirement wasn’t your decision.”
“I’m fine.” Zuka said, with a heavy sigh, falling back in his chair. His one hand came to rest on his shoulder, “Sure, adjusting to this was a pain - but I’m fine.”
“That’s good to hear.” Venomshank said, “What happened was a bit of a shock to me too.”
“I’m sure it was.” Zuka said with a sigh, before standing up and walking over to one of the cupboards, “‘You want a drink of anything?”
“Mm, oh, I’m fine.” Venomshank brushed off, and Zuka shrugged.
“Suit yourself.” he grumbled, before busying himself with pouring out a glass of water.
As he did so, Sisyphus nipped at Venomshank’s ear, and he turned, glancing at the crow from the corner of his eye. He chuckled raspily, lifting one hand to ruffle the back of the bird’s neck. Sisyphus crowed again, before fluttering off where he’d been perched on Venomshank’s shoulder and landing on the table before him, turning around to preen his wings.
“I see the bird’s still in good condition.” Zuka said, setting down a glass of crystal-clear water and slumping back down in his seat.
“Oh, yes, he is.” Venomshank said, reaching out to stroke over the feathers a top Sisyphus’ head, instead, the bird snapped his head up and grabbed one of his fingers, tugging on it playfully, “Just a boisterous as ever, even after that wing sprain a bit ago.”
“Oh, and what’s the story behind that?”
“Ah,” Venomshank said, as Sisyphus lost interest in his finger and turned back to preening, “Well, I believe he was playing with Sword, the two have a… brotherly dynamic, I think you understand.”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, as I said, they were playing with each other, entirely reasonable for young inphernals, of course, and Sisyphus must’ve misjudged how tight of turn he needed to take and struck his wing against the corner of a wall. Then he must’ve twisted it on the way down. Bloody hurt didn’t it.” Venomshank explained, before dropping his head to attempt looking the crow in the eyes. Sisyphus promptly responded by pecking at the green glass of Venomshank’s mask, and he pulled his head up, ruffling the feathers on the back of the bird’s neck, “Either way, couldn’t fly for over a month – went a little mad, I think. Not that I blame him of course – his one purpose is to be able to fly.”
“Yeah,” Zuka said, glancing to where the clock was ticking on the wall, “Look, it’s close to lunch now, and I’m sure Rocket wouldn’t take kindly to you to staying here.”
“Ah, of course.” Venomshank said, standing up, “Well, it has been excellent to catch up with you. I do hope we can do this more often.”
“Yeah, sure.” Zuka grumbled, standing up as well, “I’ll see you out, shall I?”
“Of course.” Venomshank said, bowing his head. He held his hand out, letting Sisyphus clamber onto it and transferring the bird onto his shoulder.
Zuka walked past him, heading back towards the door. Venomshank dutifully followed, once again dipping his head to clear the door comfortably and coming to a stop before the one leading back outside.
“Alright,” he grumbled, “Call the young one down then.”
“Of course,” Venomshank said, clearing his throat before turning to the stairs again, and calling up with a voice he hoped wasn’t too loud, “SWORD! WE’RE LEAVING!”
“COMING!” Sword called from somewhere deeper in the house, before there was the drum of feet and he practically tumbled down the stairs, eventually coming to a skidding halt by his father’s side.
“Well,” Venomshank said, as he turned to the door, “As always, it was wonderful meeting up with you again. Hopefully we shall see each other soon.”
“Yeah,” Zuka said, opening the door, “Pleasure.”
Venomshank dipped his head, before taking Sword by the shoulder and guiding him out. The boy did turn, waving behind him and calling, “Bye Mr. Zuka.”
“Bye kid.” Zuka sighed, before shutting the door behind him.
“Well, did you have fun Sword?” Venomshank asked, looking down to Sword, he looked up in return, nodding enthusiastically.
“Yeah! Rocket was alright – I want to get to know him more!”
“Very well.” Venomshank said, “Though, training tomorrow, remember?”
“Of course,” Sword said, turning to look ahead of himself. Venomshank chuckled, affectionately ruffling the crest of Sword’s helmet.
“Good, good.”