Chapter Text
Despite being a cleaner for years now, Zanka had only done solo missions during the day.
Cleaners did a dangerous job, but they weren’t reckless. Which, really, was a misconception that many a grounds people hated them for. It wasn’t work that many understood, and they didn’t have to in order for it to get done.
But especially when it came to their youngest members, Cleaners enforced rules religiously to keep them as safe as possible, even when the work couldn’t guarantee it.
It wasn’t like they hadn’t let him out on his own ever; Zanka’d completed solo missions here and there, even leading a few missions when Enjin recommended him. Those were some of his favorites.
“We’ve got a mission for you,” Corvus had started when briefing him, “you’ll leave this evening before dinner.”
Zanka’s eyes lit up. “After hours?” He gripped Lovely Assistaff tightly, resisting the urge to clutch her to his chest. If Corvus gave the go ahead to allow him on a solo mission after daylight, that meant the boss thought he’d improved.
Corvus thought he’d improved.
He bounced on his heels the slightest bit.
Corvus nodded, a light smile ghosting his lips. “Yes. You’ll get a small stipend to spend on your own meal. We don’t expect the mission to take long. Enjin will be waiting for you to return.”
Zanka nodded, having to press his lips together to not look like a giddy teenager. Even if that’s exactly what he was.
“A trash beast has been recorded to be moving nocturnally towards the East, a bit too close to a smaller community situated there. We’ll send you with the coordinates of its last recorded sightings; your job is to dispose of it, alright?”
“Yes sir, I can do that!” Zanka nodded some more and had the passing thought to stop because he probably looked weird, desperate. In lieu, he offered the boss a small bow, dipping his shoulders towards the floor.
He also had the passing thought that it was about time! because he’d finally turned eighteen and worked so hard every day to be better at this job. Instead of letting that thought linger, though, he pushed it aside with a reminder that of course he had to work hard; he had to earn the trust of his elders. This was another test for him to show them that he can do this job, and that he can do it well.
Which is how Zanka found himself standing in front of a decently sized trash beast, just a few blocks away from the edge of a well populated neighborhood.
Truly, when Corvus had told him that it was a bit too close to a community here, he thought it would be at least a few miles away. Cleaners were usually on top of a trash beast before it came close to a populated area.
The catch with this area was that the neighborhood was not far - at all - from the barrier keeping them from no man’s land. They were on top of it, actually, a few houses creating a man-made barrier not three yards from where Zanka would determine the air not safe.
“How the hell are there people livin’ so close ta a no man’s land?” Zanka asked himself aloud. Not to mention the why, too. There wouldn’t be a reason to be inhabiting this place, unless it was out of necessity, his brain offered in response.
But the houses didn’t look new or temporary. The architecture was a bit dated, with roots crawling along the edges of buildings and paths eroded into the dirt by what could only be countless footsteps falling along the same places over and over. There wasn’t even a fence around the neighborhood, let alone walls sturdy enough to protect from falling debris. How a group of people had managed to survive out here, let alone settle, and probably raise a few generations - that was unknown to Zanka.
And on top of the threat of the air quality, the threat of trash beasts increased tenfold when one lived so close to a border like this. Zanka was shocked that this was the first he’d heard of trash beast activity in the area. Maybe there was another Cleaner stationed here regularly? But then why would Corvus send him now?
He would check in with the inhabitants after he did his job, make sure they were good.
Zanka slipped his mask on, head piece following, and activated Lovely’s bright blue. His orders rushed through his mind. Take care of the trash beast. And right behind that thought, a mission he gives himself: protect these people.
A running start would ensure he’d catch the beast off guard, so he pushed his legs forward and kept Lovely low. Through his mask he could see the beast taking slow steps, its target locked in.
It had already found the neighborhood and was making a beeline right towards it. It must’ve been heading its way for awhile now, because it wouldn’t be long until its massive foot would crush the first wave of buildings. Though this beast was smaller than others he’d fought, and much smaller - almost laughably - than the flying one he’d been in.
Losing that fight to Jabber.
Since then, the months that’d followed his recovery found Zanka more preoccupied with the Raider than was probably healthy.
Like right now, when he should have a laser focus on the trash beast instead of the infuriatingly genius man.
Right.
Zanka planted his feet in front of the beast, just below its eye level.
A single swing of Lovely’s glorious U-shaped arch grabbed the beast’s attention. A loud grumble started in its throat, growing until Zanka felt the familiar rumbling of a roar from beneath his feet. It was loud, louder than he expected from a smaller creature. The vibrations shook the ground to a careless degree and Zanka spared a glance behind him at the neighborhood.
A few people had gathered towards the border of no man’s land, the rumbling catching their attention and now watching him and the trash beast. Many were kids, couldn’t be older than Rudo, Zanka thought right as he noticed a distinct lack of adults. A few older kids were holding younger ones back, ones that were too small to recognize actual danger unless it was an inch from their noses. But even those older ones looked to be too young to live on their own.
Were they living on their own? In this place?
Maybe two adults stood with the group of children - one an elderly woman, old enough that she hunched over and stood leaning with a cane battered with notches, and the other a man who seemed to be closer to Enjin’s age. His hair was done up in a ponytail, smaller braids coming together to frame his shoulders. But there were smaller gold accents attached to the braids, reflecting the almost setting sun, ones that looked just like -
Why the hell did Zanka keep thinking of the Raider at a time like this?
But really, that jewelry looked just like the ones Jabber wears in his locs -
With a shake of his head, Zanka rushed forward towards the beast. His priority was protecting these people, these kids - jeez, did they have any self preservation? They were still standing there, just watching.
Using Lovely as a mount, he launched himself upwards and straight towards the trash beast’s head. Wind whizzed past his face, making it hard to keep his eyes open and thrusting his hair far back on his head. Luckily he landed right where he’d aimed, at the top of the beast’s skull.
Though much smaller in comparison, the beast was apparently still able to feel Zanka’s arrival on his body and began to thrash around with another deafening roar. The ground shook, and from just a few blocks away Zanka saw the group of people rattle and attempt to catch themselves before hitting the dirt.
The older woman planted her cane in the sand, grip firm despite her frail arm shaking.
This was supposed to be an easy, one and done job, and Zanka refused to have any injuries, let alone casualties. As the trash beast thrashed forward, it further closed in on the neighborhood, too close for Zanka’s liking. Take down the trash beast, protect these people.
Eyes glowing, Zanka regained his balance and ran down the beast’s neck. Without Lovely, he would have fallen off for sure, as her staff balanced him any time the beast thrashed a bit too wildly.
When he reached the beast’s spine, he slid down the protruding trash towards its glowing core. Take down the trash beast.
All it took was a final swing, and Lovely came barring down on the core with an explosive force. The beast wailed, Zanka’s feet planted deeply into the barrage of trash to follow through with Lovely’s arc through the other side of the core. Once the glowing orb split in half, the beast’s trash began to fall, succumbing to the natural force of gravity.
With it, Zanka also lost his footing, grasping Lovely as he began to fall towards the ground.
He’d be fine, well versed in landing on his feet (his siblings made sure of that). But a glance towards the group of people watching him made his brain falter.
Trash rained down in all places. Large hunks of metal and pieces of outdated furniture barreled towards the ground, bouncing in all directions. Close enough that if it landed at the right angle, it’d bounce straight towards the group of people that he’d unintentionally gathered.
A small yelp caught Zanka’s attention.
Protect these people.
One of the smallest kids pointed towards a large refrigerator, dull with age and creaking with the force of its fall as it hit the ground just a few yards from them and ricocheted straight towards the kid.
Zanka acted on pure instinct, trusting Lovely’s endurance as he used her to launch himself off the closest piece of falling debris. As the kid let out another scream, this time more afraid, more scared, Zanka pushed himself further through the air. Finally close enough, he raised Lovely to the side and swung her like a bat, making contact with the debris just a few feet before it could hit the kid dead on.
The refrigerator, or what was left of it, shattered into pieces upon contact, all flying the opposite direction of the group of people.
Now on the ground, Zanka realized his mistake.
That fridge wasn’t the only piece of debris making its way towards the group - pipes and TV’s and metal sheets and shit he couldn’t even name seemed to come from all angles, all too much.
He turned towards the kid he just saved, “Get outta here!” With a wave of his hand, he shoved the older kids back enough that they would get his point.
Don’t become collateral damage. Please.
“Mister, behind you!” a small voice called.
Zanka spun around, Lovely already ready. She flew through the air wild but accurate, smashing into the screen of an old box TV. Her spikes caught a few other pieces of trash on their way down, but they felt like nothing in the larger picture of the chaos.
Of course he’d messed it up. So sure of his abilities, that he could show Enjin and Corvus that he was capable, he got sloppy. Too messy. Too relaxed. Too confident.
Zanka flared his nostrils and ignored the burning behind his eyes. Even behind his mask, he blamed it on the air.
“Lock in, man!”
It was the other adult of the group, the one with Jabber’s jewelry. For a moment, Zanka thought it was Jabber himself, the tone of voice rough but confident. But it wasn’t, and he didn’t have time to think about why the hell his heart flipped at the damn thought.
Protect these people.
He was moving, flying through the trash rain. Lovely guided his motions, spinning freely and tracking blue light wherever she went. Zanka twirled through the larger pieces, hitting them dead on and using them to crush others. He weaved through the smaller trash, not paying them any mind unless they got too close to the kids.
A few pieces hit him - he was rusty, after all - a pipe on the shoulder, definitely bruising, a rusted pair of scissors that thankfully just grazed his forehead. A collection of books - which Zanka had enough of a mind to think how insane it was that they were all still together - landed on the back of his left knee and he buckled.
Falling, Zanka caught himself with his hand and used the momentum to roll forward and spear a chunk of metal through its middle.
Like this, Zanka acted as a barrier between the trash rain and the people of this quiet neighborhood. Lovely buzzed with the action, following his every move and supporting his defense with quiet assuredness.
It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, really, but Zanka felt a tiredness in his limbs that he hadn’t felt since fighting Jabber.
Stop it with this whole Jabber nonsense! He scolded himself. It’s ridiculous!
It was the quiet he felt after scolding himself that he noticed the area had settled. Trash surrounded him, covered him in dirt, but a glance back towards the neighborhood showed Zanka that not a piece landed near the people.
He’d done it.
Holy shit, he’d actually done it.
A smile creeping its way up and breaths heaving themselves forcefully from his lungs, Zanka planted Lovely in the dirt and used her to stand himself up.
“Mister!” Another kid, a young girl, called out to him.
When he turned to her, he saw her finger outstretched, pointed, letting him know that -
Shit.
A final piece of trash was falling, heading straight for the older woman who was tending towards a younger kid, soothing their fear without realizing the danger behind her. A piece of sheet metal, bent in an ugly diagonal and jagged at the edges most likely due to the disfigurement of the trash beast.
Zanka was moving before he even realized it, Lovely propelling him to close the distance between him and the older woman.
He couldn’t strike this piece of debris like the others, he realized, as it would only shatter and hit the group of kids point blank. He wasn’t physically strong enough to catch it with the force it was falling with, and Lovely’s arch wasn’t large enough to catch it. So, Zanka went with his next best option.
Landing in front of the older woman, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her farther back a few steps, far enough that the force of impact wouldn’t knock her over. She stumbled back a bit, catching herself on the cane she held. She then turned her head towards him, slowly, curiously.
Behind him the metal crashed onto the ground and, as he expected, bounced back up, straight towards where Zanka was now shielding the woman. He saw in her eyes the moment she realized what was going to happen, but it was a moment too late as the metal sliced through his uniform and cut deep into the skin on his back.
Zanka grit his teeth and held tighter onto the woman’s shoulders, but didn’t let any other indication that he was hurt shine through.
The piece of metal fell towards this left side, skitting against the dirt as it slowly, finally, came to a stop.
The woman’s hands came towards his shoulders, grounding Zanka through his heavy breaths. “What in the devil is wrong with you?!”
Meeting her eyes, Zanka saw that she was angry. No, that wasn’t quite right. She was…upset? His heart sank as her fingers gripped his uniform tighter. “Are you alright, baby?”
This question felt a lot softer than the first, but no less firm. A bit disoriented, Zanka decided to not trust his voice and just nod.
Looking around, the air was still. It was actually over this time. Mission complete.
Letting feelings flood back into his body in place of the high of adrenaline, Zanka wasn’t feeling as bad as he thought he would be. The gash in his back stung, stretching from his left mid-back to his right shoulder blade, as if trying to slice him open and dissect him - but he’d honestly expected to be cut in half. A warm liquid was pooling down his back, reminding him to revel in feeling alive.
“Mister, that was so cool!” A kid ran up and tackled his legs, taking Zanka by surprise. He stumbled a bit but didn’t fall, thanks to the grip of the older woman still locked on his shoulders. He looked down towards the kid, who was apparently unaware of the cut across his back, then towards the woman, who was flicking her eyes across his entire body.
Steadied, Zanka removed his face piece and mask. “Are you all alright?” His voice was soft, but not shaking. His chest swelled with pride at the fact.
“We ‘re so good, man!” Another kid ran towards him, and the rest followed, and Zanka thought he’d never seen so many kids in his life.
“You was just swinging and flying and killing those things!” Another added.
“The coolest!” Zanka wasn’t sure what that kid was referring to as the “coolest”, but surely, it couldn’t be him.
The man approached him next, and with an even closer view, Zanka knew that the jewelry that adorned his hair was not quite the same, but similar to what Jabber wore in his own. The same gold, the similar details engraved.
“Yo, you good, kid?” The man asked. “That was some nasty stuff.”
Zanka nodded, eyes fixated on the gold bangles. Blinking, he met the man’s eyes. “Yes, I’m alright. Thanks.”
The man only nodded, patting him once on the back and narrowly missing his oozing shoulder. “Crazy shit you got there.”
Zanka blames the pain in his back for the heat that rises to his cheeks. He clears his throat. “You all live out here?”
The man nodded. “Can’t afford to live anywhere else. But we got our people here.” Looking towards the kids, Zanka realized that his earlier assumption was correct. They lived here because they had to, but there seemed to be something more than that.
Almost like they had grown to like living there, right in the midst of danger.
“Alright baby, come along now.” The older woman pushed the man aside and grabbed Zanka by his hand. She started walking, pulling him along.
“W-Wait, ma’am,” he sputtered, disoriented by her assertiveness and the sudden change of plans, “I need ta-”
“I ain’t ‘ma’am’ to people that’ve saved my life. Only the youngins must call me that.” She turned towards Zanka, grip still firm on his hand. “If you don’t leave now, these little ones will flock you like moths to a flame.”
Zanka turned towards the group of kids, which the man was attempting to shoo back home to no avail. Flicking his gaze between the woman and the kids, he realized she was right.
Zanka decided to indulge the woman for a bit. It was getting pretty dark, so he could walk her home and call for a ride back to HQ.
Turning towards the kids with his full body, Zanka gave a small bow of his head. “Ya run home now, alright? It’s best for ya to listen ta yer elders.” He nodded towards the man attempting to wrangle them.
“You ‘re gonna come back, though?” A small boy asked. He was clinging to an older kid, his sister perhaps. “Those things was scary.”
Zanka nodded. “We’ll keep you safe. I’ll be sure ta get my team back here ta check on things of’en.”
The kid smiled.
“Alright, home now, little ones,” the man interjected. “Wash up before your mommas find ya.”
That seemed to spur them on, turning to run back into the neighborhood in a small fit of screams, or maybe giggles - Zanka couldn’t quite tell. He wasn’t used to seeing such young kids act like actual kids.
The kid that had asked him to come back staggered behind a bit, eyes fixated on a stick laying in the trash heap. Finding Zanka’s eyes, he rushed towards the stick and when he picked it up, he made a big show of spinning around and swinging it as Zanka had done with Lovely.
Despite himself, Zanka huffed out a laugh, eyes shining. Beside him, the woman did the same.
“Come on now, boy. You a youngin too, ain’t you?” the woman pulled him forward, though she wasn’t very fast with her cane in the other hand. “We’ll get you cleaned up and fed.”
“No wait, ma’am, that ain’t necessary-”
Zanka’s protests were silenced by a single stare from the woman, something far more scary than any trash beast he’d ever seen. “I told you to drop the ma’am. Call me auntie; it’s what we do ‘round here.”
Every part of Zanka’s upbringing told him to not do that. He could hear his sister’s monologues about respecting their elders, feel his brother’s whacks to the back of his head whenever Zanka used a name instead of a formality. Auntie wasn’t even a name, their voices said.
Instead of answering her, Zanka nodded, hoping it would be enough. The woman seemed to pause, but continued on anyway, walking him into the neighborhood.
—
“You one of those Cleaners, then?” Auntie - yeah, that was not working for Zanka - asked him as they walked slowly through the neighborhood.
Zanka hesitated to call it anything more, as it was truly a collection of houses, yards, gardens, and what were possibly a few groceries. A town felt too big for this community.
“Um, yes ma -” Zanka cleared his throat, “yes, I am.” For now, he decided, Auntie-san was good enough. In his head, at least.
He was secretly grateful that they were walking together, though he wasn’t sure who was helping the other out more at this point. With her failing posture and crane, Auntie-san was a slow mover, toppling over every time they had to round a corner. But Zanka was slowly losing his own balance, too, the pain in his back increasing with each step they took. After strolling for a moment with her, he figured he wouldn’t bleed out, but if he didn’t get medical attention soon, he wouldn’t be of any help to her; he’d turn into a burden.
“Why’d they send ya just now?” Auntie-san asked suddenly.
Zanka craned his head towards her, confused by the question. “What?”
She didn’t meet his gaze. “The Cleaners. They ain’t ever sent anyone out to help before. Why now?”
Zanka’s lips pressed together harshly. How often did trash beasts attack here with no protection? His eyebrows furrowed. That kid had said they were scary, so did that mean they were a regular occurrence, enough for the kid to build a fear of them? How many people had been hurt because of their negligence?
How had this been the first report of a trash beast in the area, ever?
“I-” Zanka felt that no answer would ever be enough for her question, “I don’t know.”
He sighed deeply, a big shakily due to his wound. “But when I go back I’ll be talking with the boss. I’ll make sure we’re here more, ta keep ya and ya little ones safe, ma’am.”
“Auntie, boy.” Was her only response.
They walked on for a minute more before she spoke again.
“My son’s at home; he can patch you up.”
Zanka turned towards her. “There’s really no need, I swear I’ll be alright. I just need ta call my team and they can-”
Another look, and Zanka shut up. Why was she so scary? “My son will insist when I tell him you saved his momma’s life. I’ll cook up a good meal for us when he’s done.”
Zanka felt guilt tug at his gut. “You owe me nothin’, I promise.”
The woman smiled softly and hummed. “I know.”
The rest of the walk was quiet, allowing Zanka to take in the houses. He was right earlier about the older architecture, buildings made of mostly brick, red dust from the stacks creating small piles in the corners of the houses. The lights around were dim, some flickering and some not on at all - probably not functional. It was quiet, unlike earlier, matching the sun that had set in the day’s finality.
“We’re here. Help me up the stairs, boy.”
Zanka looked up and found a set of four stairs, crafted from wood and fit to the house specifically. It looked as if someone had built them recently, shinier nails sticking out of the sides, a bit out of place with the rest of the house.
It fit in well with the others, red bricks dinged with dirt and age, wooden roof damaged a bit but still standing. Zanka wondered if a trash storm had gotten to it.
Instead of staring more, Zanka opted to listen to the older woman and held out his arm as support as they braced the stairs together.
“I ain’t seen her all night!”
A voice bellowed from behind the door, frantic and loud. Not loud to scare someone, but loud to be heard, to be listened to. It startled Zanka but didn’t faze Auntie-san, who just shook her head at the sudden interruption.
“If you ain’t seen her either, then Im’ma go out there and look, dammit!” The voice was closer to the door now, and since Auntie-san wasn’t worried, Zanka continued helping her up the stairs. He figured she was who the voice was worried about. Probably the son she’d mentioned being able to patch him up.
The voice though - as it rang in his slightly woozy head, Zanka realized that it was familiar. But with his back now throbbing in pain, his mind refused to connect any dots it had and left Zanka listening harder to try and hear it again.
The door yanked open with the force of someone who wasn’t paying attention, and a body stepped forward, yelping when coming face to face with Zanka and Auntie-san.
“Momma! My god don’t -” The voice stopped, and Zanka’s stomach dropped with it.
Because standing there, calling this woman his momma, was Jabber Wonger.
“Zanka?” Jabber saying his name felt weird - sounded weird, since Zanka couldn’t remember a time he’d actually said his name rather than using one of his odd nicknames.
Zanka blinked, and yeah - that was Jabber. Tense, Zanka could only stare. Instead of the intense edge Zanka usually found in his eyes when they crossed paths, he found pure shock, a confusion that made Jabber feel more real, more grounded.
He looked towards Auntie-san, then back towards Jabber, and finally just sighed. Of-freakin’-course.
“No need to get your panties in a twist, boy. I’d left you a note.” Auntie-san said, talking to Jabber. “You gonna be a good son and help me in? Cleaner here got it pretty good.” She nodded her head towards Zanka, and his veins went cold.
He was injured, badly. In no scenario would it be a good idea to go into the supposed house of a Raider while he was this incapacitated. While he was so vulnerable. Zanka gripped Lovely a bit tighter, preparing her to strike if necessary.
Jabber shook his head once, as if he was clearing it, moving forward to take his mom’s arm from Zanka. And to Zanka’s surprise, the touch was gentle, soft. Not hesitant, but careful, like she was precious. Jabber’s fingers brushed past Zanka’s with a quiet touch, something they’d never felt from one another before.
It seemed she was precious to Jabber, even in these moments of confusion.
Hesitantly, Zanka let him take her but stayed in place, leaning his weight subtly on Lovely.
He had to get out of there.
He cleared his throat. “Okay. Well, I’m glad you’re home, uh, I’ll take my leave now.” His eyes flicked towards Jabber, once, who was watching him intently. The shock settled now, Jabber was searching, curious. He had the same gaze as his mother.
“No you don’t boy,” Auntie-san called before Zanka could even turn around, “I told you my son would patch you up, so if your ass ain’t in this house in the next ten seconds I’ll rip you a new one myself.”
Mouth agape, Zanka froze. What - Was he dreaming? Realistically, this scenario shouldn’t be happening. He’d really thought that Jabber lived in a hole underground, mixing chemicals until the Raiders were needed for their next mission. But this? A house, a mother, a look on his face that wasn’t aimed at tearing Zanka apart for the fun of it?
The chances of Zanka being the one sent to get rid of the trash beast only a few blocks away from Jabber’s neighborhood would be laughable if he weren’t so terrified.
“I don’t like to repeat myself.” She added when she deemed Zanka too slow.
Why was she so insistent on this? Hospitality was one thing, but this -
Was she tricking him? Was this a set up? The whole thing - a ruse to get Zanka here, with Jabber, vulnerable and alone?
Before he truly spiraled, Jabber tilted his head further towards Zanka and smirked. “Momma don’t repeat herself, Mr. Bad Attitude. You heard her.”
Zanka was going to die here.
Energy draining and legs a bit wobbly, Zanka decided to go with it for now, knowing that Jabber could easily out run and overpower him in his current state. Running would put him in a worse position, so he followed them inside despite his better judgement. He must be going insane. The cut on his back must’ve been worse than he thought, and he’s lost so much blood he can’t think straight.
But he goes inside anyway, and things don’t immediately implode. The door closes softly with a click. Zanka jumps a bit at it.
The house is lit dimly, no lights on the ceiling but rather lamps scattered around the area. It wasn’t enough to damper his vision but it was enough to calm the pounding his head had begun earlier.
Standing still like that would make him invisible, Zanka watches as Jabber walks his mother towards a chair against the wall and helps her sit, fussing with her immediately. “Where were you at, Momma? It’s been hours.” He pushed her hair back, checking her face.
“Runnin’ errands, you don’t need to worry, boy. I am a grown woman.” She shoved his face back a bit, but Jabber ignored her, moving to check her shoulders and arms. “Jeez, Jab. I went out to get dinner.”
Zanka hadn’t noticed the bag she was carrying before, and hears his brother scold him in his head for failing to be prepared. Be more aware. She coulda got ya with something in there.
He’d lowered his guard, thinking that because she was older she wasn’t a threat. Wobbling on a cane, he hadn’t seen the need to assess her fully, especially with his back bleeding as it was. But because he was bleeding so badly he should’ve been more alert. Another surge of fear rips through his chest, momentarily distracting from the stinging across his spine.
Auntie-san reached into the bag and Zanka readied Lovely.
From the bag, she pulls what Zanka recognizes as rice and a few spices. A breath falls from his lips without his permission. He’s not sure if it is safe to let his guard down, but he is sure that he’s getting a bit dizzier than he should be. He plants Lovely more firmly in front of him and leans on her.
“Just let me know when you’re out, ‘kay?” Jabber took the bag from his mom and moved towards the kitchen, which Zanka hadn’t even looked towards yet. His sister chimed in his thoughts this time. Always assess your surroundings. What you don’t know will kill you.
Tense once more, Zanka watched in silence as Jabber moved around the kitchen. It was a smaller house, the living room and kitchen bleeding into each other seamlessly. Auntie-san’s chair sat against the wall closest to the kitchen, and a small loveseat fit in the remaining space. A few pull out tray tables leaned against it, clean but worn out. The kitchen was snug, too, a fridge tucked in the furthest corner with an oven and stovetop parallel from it. A few cabinets were in between, the wood of them battered like Auntie-san’s cane.
A hallway disappeared down further past the kitchen and all Zanka could see of it were two small doors across from one another, looming in the dark.
“So you know my son, then?” Auntie-san’s voice startled Zanka.
He turned towards her, then caught Jabber’s gaze as he walked back into the living room and towards Zanka himself. Instinct followed as Zanka gripped Lovely, but found that he didn’t have the strength to lift her. Shit, he’s worse than he thought. Defenseless.
“Zannie’s a friend from work.” Jabber answered for him.
That was an interesting development, Zanka thought, one that had him tilting his head the slightest at the Raider. Jabber looked at him with a face Zanka’d never seen him wear before. His lips were pulled into a tight line, eyes wide as they tried to tell Zanka, go with it.
Sparing a glance to the older woman, Zanka realized there was a chance that Jabber’s mom didn’t know about his “work”. The Raider was asking him to lie, or at least to keep this from her, and Zanka had never seen him look so sincere.
Zanka was so tired and so, so confused.
He decided to glare at the Raider, but not to say anything else for Auntie-san’s sake. Something in him wanted to make sure he didn’t overstep, even though every sensible cell in his brain told him to run now while he still could.
Jabber was now behind him, and when that happened, Zanka had no idea.
“You gotta sit, baby,” Auntie-san’s voice rang out, “that thing got you good. You were good and got me home alright, now just sit.”
Zanka’s eyes met Jabber’s. He breathed in, once again shakily when he noticed how close they were. “Ya realize how weird this is, right?” He whispered to the Raider. “I should kill ya where ya stand.”
Jabber only smiled and placed a hand on Zanka’s shoulder. “I’ll take gifts the universe gives me.”
And whatever the fuck he meant by that, Zanka had no idea.
He was sat down on the loveseat, Jabber following behind with his hands assessing the damage. He whistled. “Damn, Zan-Zan, who got you this good?”
Zanka only glared at the cushion in front of him, realizing it was a deep yellow. The blood half drying, half still dripping down his back felt like molten ready to burn itself into the delicate fabric. And for some reason, staining this couch, the soft living room feel of this family home, felt so incredibly wrong.
Not to Jabber; he’d bleed all over any of Jabber’s furniture and ruin it any day of the week. But for Jabber’s mom? It felt wrong, having her caught up in the cross fire between them two.
He tried to stand up. “I’ll stain the couch, ma’am, I can stand.”
“What the hell did I say about that ma’am crap?” Auntie-san had left the room at some point, apparently, because she was walking back in with an arm full of medical tools. Gauze, scissors, something else, and she was walking a bit crooked without her cane. “I don’t wanna hear that from a boy who tried to die for me.”
“Don’t -” Zanka tried to start, but Jabber pushed his shoulders down with enough force that it brought Zanka’s whole body down towards the couch. He crashed into the cushions with an “oof”.
Uncharacteristically quiet, Jabber took the medical supplies from his mom and began to work at the gash in Zanka’s back. His mom grabbed one of the tray tables to unfold and set the rest of the supplies on next to where the Cleaner and Raider were sat.
“Im’ma start supper. It’ll be done once you boys are good to go.” And with that, she left the room.
“Thanks, Momma.” Jabber’s voice was soft. Delicate in a way Zanka didn’t think was possible.
Then it was quiet.
Instead of giving in to the unconsciousness that was begging him to fall forward, Zanka focused on the noises that Jabber was making while he worked. Steady breaths, the sticky adhesive of bandages, the slide of scissors on his uniform as he cut off the damaged area.
“You’ll have to get a new fancy uniform, rich boy.” Even the way Jabber teased him felt tense, quiet in a scary way. The air was fragile.
Zanka could only hum.
What was he doing, letting Jabber patch him up? The Raider that had poisoned him, benched him for weeks, only to come back for more and always kick his ass? Sitting behind him was the enemy that Zanka had been working to beat for months and months, always coming up just short enough to find the end of Mankira’s blades and crumble to her toxins. He couldn’t imagine a touch shared between them that wasn’t rough, with the intent to hurt, to kill - and yet here they were, Jabber gently cleaning the cut across his spine, Mankira just a cool touch to his skin.
Zanka hissed.
“Sorry,” was Jabber’s response.
Lovely stood on the floor next to the loveseat, Zanka still gripping her like his life depended on it. He leaned his head on her staff, breathing as Jabber worked. “Ya ain’t goin’ to kill me when it’d be so easy for ya right now?” The question slipped out before he could really think about what asking it meant.
Because Jabber had’t’ve noticed it, how close they were, how vulnerable Zanka was. His injury was taking its toll, more obviously than Zanka hoped, and here he sat with his blind spots wide open, allowing Jabber control of his wounds, his mortality.
Jabber was silent at first and Zanka could tell he was carefully contemplating his words. “Momma said you tried to die for her.” He began stitching the wound closed, blood now cleared from the area. “That true?”
Zanka turned his head, still using Lovely as a makeshift brace and trying to hide within her wood. He wasn’t sure how to answer. “”Twas my fault she was in that position in the first place. I was careless.”
If anything, Jabber at least deserved to know that about his family.
The fact settled on his shoulders, heavy and unforgiving. There was a reason why this was his first after hours solo mission. He was sloppy where other Cleaners were polished. The likelihood that he got another mission like this after his screw up was low. He probably wouldn’t even be able to take Rudo on training missions, especially ones where another Cleaner wasn’t tailing him to watch his every move. They couldn’t trust his abilities. After today’s mission, Zanka felt he couldn’t trust them either.
Jabber didn’t bother telling him when a needle began piercing his skin, Zanka just felt the pinch and tug as a cold sweat gathered on his forehead. “This a nasty one, Zannie. Could’ve knocked your lights out for good if it went just a bit deeper.”
Zanka almost told him about Remlin’s spell but stopped, blaming the dizziness on why he’d be so quick to give up such vital information to an enemy.
A few tugs followed, lining the span of his back from his shoulder blade to his mid-spine. “I don’t know how you ended up in the neighborhood of all places on the Ground, but Momma don’t lie. If she say you saved her, then you did.”
Tears welled in Zanka’s eyes and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the pain or something else, but he bit them back anyways. His shoulders sagged, heavier. “It was heading right towards her,” he mumbled, “and the kids, too - I didn’t -”
He stopped. Why would he tell Jabber this? Why would he bear his failures on display here, giving Jabber a full tour as if he deserved to know?
He heard Auntie-san moving around in the kitchen, the tell-tale sound of a pot hitting the stovetop. His head swam. Zanka sighed, resigned. “I was reckless and this is what I get for it. I’m lucky I even got there in time.”
The tugging on his skin stopped, and Jabber put down whatever supplies he’d been using to grab a new set from the table. Gauze, apparently, that was being wrapped around him suddenly, gently. Kindly.
“The neighborhood ain’t one for fighting here,” Jabber started, “so no, we ain’t finna brawl now. Wouldn’t be fair, not having you in top shape anyways.”
Zanka scoffed around the lump in his throat. His top shape didn’t mean shit.
Jabber continued. “There are few things I don’t play about in this life and Momma is top of the list.” The gauze was pulled firmly around Zanka’s chest, secured over his torso so it allowed some movement, but not much. He felt blood seep into them immediately in splotches between the stitches. “So I owe you, for being there to protect her when I wasn’t.”
At that, Zanka turned around. A sharp pain flew through his shoulder blade and down the length of the gash, so he opted to turn his whole body facing Jabber. He looked at the man slowly, watching his face as his eyes moved from his lap to meet Zanka’s.
It felt like something shifted, moved just for them to see in that moment. Zanka’s mouth parted slightly, but closed just as quickly.
This was so weird.
Zanka took a breath. It was easier than before, but not fluid. His head was still spinning a bit. “Well, she’s very kind.” His eyes moved to his own lap, feeling awkward looking anywhere near Jabber. “Scary as hell, though.”
Jabber barked out a laugh, turning to take off gloves Zanka didn’t remember him putting on. “You don’t have to tell me, man! That woman raised me.”
Zanka couldn’t help but chuckle at that, too. Though she wasn’t as deranged - at least, Zanka hadn’t seen her like that - Auntie-san’s features shone through Jabber’s grinning face. The pointed nose, the sharper jawline, the tooth-filled smile, the glimmering magenta eyes. He could hear her accent through his laugh, too, and it felt like too much to take in at once. He blamed the pounding against his ribcage on the recently set stitches.
In the quiet that followed, Zanka felt Jabber’s eyes on him, not calculating, just watching. When Zanka pulled together the courage to meet his gaze, Jabber blinked hard. “Lemme grab you a shirt.” He stood up quickly and moved towards the hallway with the two rooms, turning into the one on the left. As he passed his mom he kissed her head quickly, a soft smile painting the woman’s lips.
The smell of strong spices filled the air, reminding Zanka of his family’s house. He didn’t recognize any of the aromas, but the feeling they brought settled gently in his chest, welcoming and warm like his mother’s arms.
He watched Auntie-san as she stirred the pot and sat, quiet.