Author's note: Set in the Devil Due/Disavowed Timeline. Not certain why I wrote this now after so much time, but I do like how the Dreadnoks were depicted in the Devil's Due/Disavowed timeline. Takes places after the back The Past Comes Back back-up story in America's Elite issues 5 & 6.
Also Zandar is not the best at discussing serious mental health issues for so many, many reasons.
Also almost goes without saying, both life and death are cheap to Dreadnoks.

I like Zarana and Zandar being twins in almost all timelines, but in this one I find it more amusing if they're not.

"He said if he didn't get that case he wouldn't have a reason to live," Zanya muttered, "he has me. I'm a reason to live."

Zarana rolled her eyes and stomped off. Zandar looked after her, torn, but took Zanya's arm and guided her into the deserted garage.

"It's, it's not that simple," he said hesitantly, sitting her down at a small table then going over to a small cooler to retrieve some grape soda, "it isn't that you're not a reason for Zartan to live; if anything you're the reason he had to get that case back. Your father doesn't want to lose you."

"That makes no sense," Zanya toyed with the drink, rolling it back and forth in her hands.

"If he can't remember he's Zartan, he can't remember he's your father," Zandar tried to explain, "like Zarana said he isn't such an incredible infiltrator because he's just that good, it's because he becomes that person," he couldn't meet her eyes, "and that takes its toll on his psyche. Starts to break him down."

He kicked an empty chair away from the table.

"Wish Buzzer was in better shape, he's better at explaining this shit."

Zanya fidgeted with the soda moment more before popping it open.

"So, he's like Road Pig? Multiple personalities?"

"Yes, and again no," Zandar winced at Zanya's expression, "from what Buzzer's said Road Pig is a clear cut case of multiple personality disorder. Road Pig is two different distinct personalities co-existing in one body. Your father is different. There's, there's Zartan, and then there are the other personalities he's become over the years running all over the place. And every now and again he needs to remind himself of, of who he really is, which has always been complicated."

"He's always been like this?" Zanya asked, brows furrowed, "am I gonna start..."

"No!"

"Oi?! Everything awwright in there?" Torch yelled tiredly from outside.

Zandar sank back into his seat, startled to realize he had ever stood up.

"No, no, probably not. Zartan has been on some sort of medication ever since I can remember," Zandar explained, "I don't know what it is but he, he needed it, and when he didn't have it or wasn't given it it was never good," he gave his niece a weak smile, "ever wonder why this," he held up his can, "is the Dreadnoks' signature drink? And not something harder?"

Zanya studied the can in her hands. She blinked.

"Oh! If he's on medication..."

"Yeah," Zandar did outright smile this time, "people talk crap about the Dreadnoks all the time. Never occurs to any of them that the 'Noks are probably better people than they are."

Zanya raised her soda in a toast:

"Amen to that."

Companionable if anxious silence reigned for a time.

"Can I ask about something?" Zanya sat back.

"Can you?"

"You're awful," Zanya groaned. "Dad hasn't told me much about our family. Nothing really. I don't even know where he was born. He sounds like an Aussie. You and Zarana have English accents. I've peeked at various Cobra and even Joe records and they mention France and other places."

"We all were born in Florida. Although I've been told our mother was French born."

"Florida."

"Yes, Florida. Why do you think we keep coming back to this hellhole of a glorified sandbar?"

"I don't know, looking into retirement communities for Auntie Zarana?" Zanya impishly smiled.

"Now who's being awful?"

"So Florida and grandma was French. Still doesn't explain much."

"I don't really know much. I was really young when our parents died. I mostly know orphanages are nasty, people expect the cute little kids they adopt to stay cute and little, and when they don't stay cute and little, they get dropped in social services in whatever country they happen to be in at the time. In our case England."

"That's what happened to you?"

"Zarana and me, yeah," Zandar shrugged, "Zartan had run away before then, after he accidentally killed another kid that had been bullying me. Between that and when we met back up with him in Australia, I don't what happened to him. Other than he had been a guinea pig for some military boffins."

"Huh," Zanya considered that, "So our family was..."

"More than a little off from the get go? Yes."

"Look, Zarana would make fun of me for this, but are those your real names?"

"No," he looked around and leaned in close, "You didn't hear it from me, but my real name is Zachary and hers is Zoe, and, despite what she claims, we are not twins. Probably poor planning on our parents' part, but I'm exactly a year younger than Zarana, which is why she gets away with it."

"And Dad? What Dad's real name?"

Zandar folded in on himself, and eyed the walls warily.

"His name, his name is Zartan. That is his real name."

"Ooookay," Zanya drawled, then more astutely asked, "so what was his birth name?"

Her uncle leaned in even closer and whispered the name in her ear. Zanya could just barely hear him.

"Really?"

Zandar nodded nervously.

"That's surprisingly..." she thought about it a moment more. "That's really plain."

"Just speculation, but I think mother may have overridden naming him after our father. Before you ask, Ezekiel, but went by Zeke. I really don't know," he added an afterthought, "Her name was Melanie."

"We come by all the Zs honestly."

"Yes."

They both sat back and relaxed. Zarana could be heard outside chewing out Buzzer for accidentally tripping her. If Ripper's snores and snorts were anything to go by he had elected to take a nap.

"I didn't know you were my uncle until Dad stabbed you," Zanya confessed quietly.

"I know."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Zandar stared at her for a long moment, before smirking.

"Right some random 'nok comes up to you and introduces himself as your uncle? An uncle neither Zartan or Zarana has ever mentioned before?" Zandar shook his head fondly, "At best, one or both of us would have ended up beat."

"You would have hit me?" Zanya snorted. "Your own niece?"

"I grew up with Zarana," Zandar replied testily, "I lost any reluctance at hitting girls, even ones related to me, especially ones related to me, a long time ago. I know what teenagers are capable of. I wouldn't've insulted you with less," then he sighed, "and I was already angry with a lot things, and no one bothering to tell me I had a niece just made me angrier. I had to ask why we had a bossy brat running around the compound, and got a lecture about calling Zartan's daughter a brat from an idiot rookie."

"Ouch," Zanya winced, "bet he got a beating."

This time Zandar snorted.

"I gutted 'im and fed 'im to the gators actually," he took in Zanya's wide eyes and chuckled, "I did say I was angry. Anyway he was a rookie, we lose at least two or three of them to gators each year when we're down here."

"You're fucking scary," Zanya admired.

"That's probably the nicest thing anyone called me lately."

Their heads swiveled at the sound of a truck door opening.

Zandar nodded to the cooler.

"Go on and get one for him," he instructed, "gotta've been hot in that truck."

"Right"

Zanya scrambled over and retrieve a can for her father.

When she turned around her uncle was gone.