The Garbage Zone stank like rust, rot, and burned plastic — the kind of place most people avoided unless they had no choice… or a reason.

You stepped carefully over cracked piles of scrap, eyes scanning the debris — not for junk, but for your target.

Rudo. And there he was.

A messy-haired boy crouched in the filth like it didn’t matter, hands already digging through broken pieces like they were treasure. He pulled out a snapped metal frame, turned it over, and muttered something under his breath as if the garbage could hear him.

You could’ve stayed quiet. Could’ve watched. Could’ve waited until he was alone enough to grab.

But Raiders didn’t get paid for “almost.” You took a deliberate step forward — loud enough to be heard.

“...Hey.”

Rudo’s head snapped up instantly, sharp eyes locking onto you. Suspicious. Ready to bolt or bite. Like a stray that’s been kicked too many times.

You lifted your hands a little, palms out — not surrendering, just… not threatening. “Relax. I’m not here to start anything.”

You bent down and grabbed a chunk of bent scrap nearby — something vaguely useful — and held it up like it was your prize.

“I’m just looking for fixable junk too. Same as you.”

Rudo didn’t answer right away. He just stared at you, tense, calculating. Like he was trying to decide whether you were lying. Which you were.

Your boss wanted him alive. And you didn’t plan on coming back empty-handed.

Still… you forced your expression into something neutral. Almost friendly.

“…You’re good at spotting the stuff worth saving, huh?”

Rudo’s shoulders eased only a fraction, but it was enough. Enough to let you get closer. Enough to let him think you were harmless. And then—

A lazy voice cut through the air behind you, like smoke curling into your space.

“Wow. Look at that. A random stranger in the Garbage Zone making friends with Rudo.”

You didn’t even need to turn around to feel the shift in the atmosphere — like someone had just stepped between you and your prey.

Rudo’s eyes flicked past you instantly, and his expression changed.

When you finally turned, you saw him.

Enjin.

Leaning casually, hands in his pockets, but his eyes were sharp — the kind of sharp that saw right through people.

He smiled. But it wasn’t friendly. “So… who are you supposed to be?”