He should have never learned more about the events that led to the day he found Eric injured in his room. He should have stayed oblivious to the scale of the problem and never uncovered the horrible details he now wished he still didn't know. But if his visit to Ashton's wasn't enough, Zach was unlucky enough to stumble upon a scene that changed everything.
Taking care of Emily was his priority; ready to rid her of the slightest inconvenience before she even complained, Zach had to learn to act despite the most obvious things he knew about Sada. Every time he saw her he remembered his brother's and his friend's bruises, Emily's dependence on the vaccine being the only reason he remained where he had promised to be. He even stopped wondering if maybe what happened to his brother was partly his loyalty test. His fault.
Fucked up as it was, Sada remained untouchable, followed around the building by her loyal pets. And that's why what Zach wished he didn't know. He wished he never learned the truth about what happened in the basement that night, or how cruel some of Ms. Vang's followers could be. It made turning a blind eye to that knowledge unbearable, forcing Zach into the role of an accomplice, no matter how absurd or far from true it was.
So, he did the only right thing he thought he could do without risking Emily's, or even Eric's, safety: he reduced Sada's fanbase to one member fewer.
At the very beginning of the chomper ordeal, he had told himself he wouldn't want to become someone who wouldn't stand their reflection in the mirror, but this statement had changed drastically since then - more often than not, despite his will - and now with his hair so short he looked just like Vie and all he could see was anger and the irresistible hunger for revenge. What he was going to do was justified. For someone who joined every supply run supervised by Hector Garcia, it was ridiculously difficult to pick the right moment and way to fish him out. There always had to be someone or something to stop Zach from executing his plan until one lucky Sunday everything went so smoothly that it exceeded his expectations; matching haircuts and a piece of gauze to cover the neck were everything the Sanders brothers needed.
*
A spotless mirror wall in what must have been one of Manhattan hotels' lobby reflected two faces - one belonged to Hector, tied to a chair, eyelids too heavy to see who was standing behind him. The other waited patiently for him to fully wake up before they spoke. Especially since all he could do with the tape over his mouth was listen.
"I've heard you get your kicks from watching people get hurt." The words might have sounded amusing coming, most likely, from the less privileged of the twins, still healing from the night he was brought to Sada until another identical face came into view. Seeing them dressed nearly the same, Hector started connecting the dots on how he ended up there, embarrassed that he had let them fool him so easily. And for what? He had witnessed Eric accept the beating without fighting back, but he had also supervised Zach on the runs, so he couldn't tell what to expect.
"So I bet you'll love today's show," he continued, then added a little softer, "Or not." With band-aids on their necks, it was nearly impossible to tell the brothers apart, except for the slight differences in the emotions in their eyes and voices that left an unmistakable hint of whose idea it was. Who wanted more than vengeance, more than to be left alone and heal in peace, hoping he could build himself around the pain he had experienced. One of them was furious, unable to accept the violence directed towards his family; a vigilante, who soon would say "You'd do the same for me", a bloody hand patting his brother's shoulder before pulling him into a tight hug, preparing to leave the third man behind. They would wash their hands and never speak about that day again. It would be their darkest secret, not to be shared with anyone, ever.
"I'm gonna peel your dick like a fucking banana, asshole. And when the chompers smell their lunch we'll make sure no one's 'round to help your pathetic ass." Maybe one day another group would find him, their scapegoat What's left of him, at least. "But first—" Zach flipped a butterfly knife and it danced effortlessly in his hand as the fingers of his free hand cupped Hector's chin with feigned concern. "—let's make sure you won't close your eyes when shit gets really – to find the right word for ya – entertaining." The cold, sharp tip moved closer to the corner of Garcia's right eye as Zach leaned forward. He looked at Eric's reflection, his features immediately softening, his voice almost apologetic for convincing him to tag along. "I'm not backing off, but you can leave if you wanna."
What a show. Its sole purpose was to make Hector regret taking Sada's side and following her orders (with some extra effort for his own pleasure, maybe), he was certain. Of course, an actor and a guy who made horror games knew how to scare someone, but even the blade was probably dull - no way they had the balls to execute the morbid plan they presented.
Hector's muffled yet unquestionably mocking chuckle died away when his eyes followed Zach's eyes and met Eric's in the mirror. They were cold and indifferent, as if they belonged to someone other than the usually empathetic man, so much so that it was possible to tell the exact moment Eric decided to completely suppress the good in him. Show no mercy. No one could fake the sheer emptiness with which he replied "No. I'll stick around."
