Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hell Guards don’t hesitate, they don’t overthink, and they don’t lose. Zanka Nijiku does, he never would’ve been a good Hell Guard. 

He needs to get stronger.

As the rest of his team was off fighting the fucking Raiders again for information on where to find the choker maker, Zanka was getting zapped by Eishia for his weakness. Her vital instrument always made him think of the electrocution torture that Kyouka had taught him to administer on prisoners who were withholding information. 

First, you put them in water. Then, you throw in a mother fucking toaster. If they didn’t talk, well Kyouka would just start electrocuting them directly instead of the water that they were in.

The way the healing feels reminiscent of the torture is fitting. It’s a punishment; you failed and got injured and now you’re going to get electrocuted.

Of course Eishia’s healing doesn’t hurt. It’s a warm, tickling sensation and makes the pain go away. Zanka doesn’t blame her for the random Hell Guard memories that resurface at the most mundane moments in his daily life.

The Hell Guard would never accept this level of failure. 

When Zanka was at the academy he didn’t lose spars, but he sometimes performed worse than his standard. In such scenarios, he would seek out his sparring partner after, compliment their technique, and ask to fight again. Had he stayed at the academy, he would’ve certainly sparred with Hyo every day until he could win.

So it’s clear to him what he needs to do now. He needs to find that stupid Raider and throw a toaster in his bathtub. If he doesn’t explain what makes him stronger, Zanka will just electrocute him directly. Exactly as would make Kyouka proud.

He doesn’t know where to find the Raider, but since Semiu’s now afraid to assign him missions, he has plenty of free time to search. He tries to pretend it doesn’t piss him off that nobody trusts him to even fight trash beasts anymore. He convinces most everyone else he’s not upset, but he can’t lie to himself.

Little does he know that it’s Eishia who’s prescribed him a multiple week long rest period. Semiu trusts him to not die on missions, but she also trusts August to yell at her if she disobeys the doctor’s orders and August’s yelling really takes away from her magazines.

Lovely Assistaff only gets cared for with the finest products, products that Zanka’s stocked up on enough to last the next year, but his team doesn’t know that.

Every few days Riyo, Follo, and his other friends head out on a mission and leave him bored at home. He opts to go to the market in lieu of sitting around bored at the base. At least that’s what he tells himself.

Part of him is still holding onto that hatred, fury, and desire for revenge. Part of him will always be looking for the Raider, to fight him and kill him.

He starts with Canvas Town, but that’s ridiculous as a Raider could never get in there. Fu said himself he could only get in after deciding to become Enjin’s minion.

He starts visiting other towns, other wards, any market really. After two weeks he’s visiting shady places he’d been explicitly told to avoid by every adult in his life. In every place he searched for one specific type of shop; those that sell poison.

The type of stall Jabber Wonger would visit.

On a visit to a random Fukitsu City he sees one stall lit with neon purple lights. Perhaps it’s the purple, but the stall screams Jabber to him.

The shop’s indeed selling poisons, so he directly asks the person behind the counter if he’s seen a freaky ass dread head buy any poisons recently.

The man says yes, that a man maybe fitting that description is coming tomorrow night to get a special order, and asks for a further description. Zanka unknowingly slips into a rather scathing description of Jabber and realizes he sounds very crazy with how he keeps insulting this random person’s customer. Needless to say, the man gives Zanka the boot.

Zanka still got the information he needs though, and plans to come back the next day to see if Jabber really does show up. 

He goes back to the Cleaner’s and tries to think of anything that would give him an edge in the fight but mostly ends up reminding himself how much he hates the Raider.

As he’s cleaning Lovely he asks himself, really, what’s he doing? Parts of him swear he’s planning to get stronger and learn how to beat new enemies. Part of him admits it’s revenge, he wants to beat Jabber like how he was beat. He wants to see Jabber take a turn being stuck bedridden for a day.

The way the Raider had begged for Zanka to let himself loose during their last fight, he’s sure Jabber wants it too.

Zanka shakes his head firmly, putting the cloth down to go eat dinner and get locked in. If he wants to win against Jabber he should ask to spar against Riyo or Rudo. Maybe if he gives Rudo rings then the younger boy can make his own knockoff Mankira. It wouldn’t be the same though. Nothing would do the trick except fighting the actual thing.

He goes down to the cafeteria to get some dinner and talk to Riyo. He knows she saw Jabber more recently in pursuit of the information broker, maybe she had seen something that could help Zanka win.

He grabs himself a portion of the dinner given to them. It’s not very much food, and the little that there is doesn’t have much nourishment. Riyo likes to joke that living on the Ground gave her a nice hourglass figure, but Zanka never liked how both of their bones jut out. He was surprised when he first saw Rudo without baggy clothes; the Sphereite was just as malnourished as the rest of them. Maybe there’s just no food anywhere. 

The thought brings to mind a certain memory of Rudo swelling up like a balloon, Zanka shudders and sits down next to Riyo.

“Heya,” She says to Zanka, already engrossed in a conversation with their team leader, “But in No Man’s Land you don’t have to worry about civilian casualties.”

“Yeah, but that means no citizens are gonna see you either,” Enjin responds, “I’ll never get appreciation for my awesome cleaning skills.” Zanka can tell they’re talking about the best place to fight trash beasts, makes sense his mentor would want the spot that gives him the most attention.

He joins in the conversation, “Can’t have civilian appreciation if all the civilians got eaten by the trash beasts.”

Enjin huffs, “Don’t agree with her! You really wanna go into a No Man’s Land for every mission?” Zanka considers it and shakes his head, taking a sip of ice water.

“I like fighting trash beasts in wide, open areas. When it’s too cramped I can’t get in my groove with Lovely. Like, an alleyway would suck.”

“Hear me out,” Riyo jokes, “Fighting inside a trash beast was cool.” She spreads her hands out for emphasis and starts reminiscing on her trigger happy adventure.

Gris pulls up a chair beside Enjin, “The fight inside the trash beast? I did not like that, one moment you guys were having dinner with us and the next you were gone. Apparently in a flying trash beast?” He shakes his head with disdain at the memory. Zanka can’t help but agree, that was one of his least favorite memories. The embarrassing beatdown that only he seemed to suffer.

The room fills up with more chatter as more people come in for dinner. Zanka notices the time on a clock and remembers he had a goal he came for.

“Riyo, can we spar tonight or tomorrow?” He asks when the older men are distracted in their own conversation. He keeps his voice low, not because he’s doing anything out of the ordinary by asking to spar, but because he feels like they’ll hear him asking to spar and somehow know it’s about Jabber. He’s a little ashamed of being so weak. He doesn’t want to admit he needs to ask for help around other people, but he’s not afraid to let Riyo know. She has such a watchful eye that it sometimes feels like she’s the one with Semiu’s ability to look at people, Zanka doesn’t try to hide much from her.

“Yeah, ‘course,” She answers, spinning the Reaper around her finger, “Whyyyyyy?” Usually Zanka trains in the early morning, and while she’s a night owl with nothing against training in the evening, she’s curious what’s making Zanka want to stray from routine.

“Ugh, tell you later,” He mutters, not wanting to tell anyone but Riyo. She raises her eyebrows and nods, sounds like it’ll be a fun fight at least.

After dinner the two of them walk to the gym and Zanka fills her in on his plan.

“So let me get this straight: you want to actively seek out the Raider you lost to twice before to try and beat him this time?” She’s obviously amused at Zanka’s plan.

“I told you ‘cause I wanted help, not judgement. And I want you to tell me how you beat him before, when I- uh, when we were in the trash beast,” He avoids the words ‘when I was high out of my fuckin' mind on his drugs after losing’.

“Oh, that,” She chuckles and points the untransformed Reaper at Zanka’s chest like a gun, “Pew.”

Zanka stares at her, “Seriously? Where’d you even get a gun?”

“Enjin never took it, and you can’t judge me! What you’re trying to do is arguably worse. So, did you wanna borrow it or…” She asks. He promptly shakes his head and sighs as they arrive at the gym.

“Just, attack me like you’re a freaky drug addict who’s got claws.”

Jabber Wonger skips down the street to one of his favorite poison maker’s stalls. This guy makes awesome hallucinogenics. Last time Jabber brought him a weird blue glowing mushroom he found in a No Man’s Land. It made him think of a certain blue-eyed, bad-attitude, bone-breaking Cleaner. Shame that Cleaner had seemed to have been taken out by just one eensy little dose of poison. Okay, it was more like a horse dose. But the cleaner had done so well with it the first time, Jabber wanted to see how much he could handle! If he didn’t know better, he’d say the guy had a background with poison immunity. Jabber was hoping he’d show up to the information broker chase, but no such luck. Guess he can’t complain too much though, since he got to fight Fu. Fu? Hii? He honestly doesn’t know.

He hops in front of the stall and leans onto the counter, “Yo-oh!” The man comes out from the back and when he recognizes Jabber instead of going into the back to grab the poison, he pulls Jabber into a tight conversation by the front of his crop top hoodie.

“Jabber, a dude was asking about you yesterday. He was being real rude and creepy and kept insulting you. Looked like a Hell Guard maybe, had the same serious demeanor and eyebrows.”

Jabber almost shrieks with delight. A Hell Guard? Asking about him? Could it be? 

Zodyl had made him learn the backgrounds of different Cleaners. When Mr. Bad Attitude’s story came up, Jabber was hyped to learn he had been with the Hell Guard in his youth. Ohhh, maybe that’s where he got poison immunity from! Jabber’s heard of Hell Guard doing wilder stuff than that.

“Yo what was he wearing?” Jabber asks gleefully, a grin starting to spread across his face.

“Hmm, I think a Cleaner’s uniform actually,” The man ignores Jabber’s giggle and his eyes latch onto a point behind him, “I don’t fucking believe it, there he is again.” Jabber discreetly follows the man’s gaze and sure enough, there’s Zanka Nijiku, hiding in an alleyway and wearing different clothes, like he thought Jabber wouldn’t be able to recognize him.

“Oooh, I’m starting to get excited,” He whispers to himself, biting his lip.

“Hey I know that look. Keep it away from the shop,” The vendor points his finger at Jabber threateningly as he goes into the back to grab the poison from the mushroom. He starts telling Jabber what he thinks will probably happen and explaining that most of the mushroom is still preserved in the back and depending on what the effects are he can sell more of it and he’ll split the profit with Jabber if Jabber helps him advertise it and whatever its effects are and hey Jabber are you even listening to what I’m saying right now? 

It all goes in one ear and out the other, Jabber isn’t listening in the slightest. He’s watching Zanka slowly inch closer.

Jabber pays him and takes the small bottle, giggling as he skips to the edge of town where he knows there’s some buildings he can cling to if he wants to climb a wall to get the jump on Zanka. He can sense it, Zanka’s following him like a moth to the flame.

He kind of expects Zanka to try to hide his trail better but as they keep going Zanka’s attempts at hiding get worse and worse. Wow Mr. Bad Attitude, he thinks, What’s going on with you that you’re not even trying to hide?

Jabber lets Zanka tail him for a few minutes, until he’s only a few blocks away from the edge of town.

After a turn into an alleyway Jabber jumps up to cling to a wall. Maybe he will try to get the drop on Zanka, by dropping himself directly onto Zanka. He stifles a giggle with one Mankira covered hand, the other digs into the wall to hold him up.

He hears Zanka click his tongue as he turns into the alleyway with Lovely Assistaff already drawn, although untransformed, and Jabber notes that he looks annoyed by something. But when isn’t Jabber’s pissy little Cleaner annoyed by something?

Zanka searches the empty alleyway for Jabber and doesn’t see anything. By the time he thinks to look up, Jabber’s already falling down with Mankira outstretched. Zanka’s eyes go wide and he jumps out of the way, activating Lovely Assistaff while swinging her around to face Jabber.

“You crazy asshole! How long did you know I was following you?” Zanka demands. Jabber giggles, of course his little Zan-zan was mad he had been caught.

“Y’know I really don’t think you’re one to be judging right now. You came here for a fight, no? Let’s dance Zanka~”

Zanka takes a deep breath, and lunges forwards with Lovely Assistaff.

Metal clashes against metal as they both block the other’s attacks. It’s just as good as Jabber remembered. The arm Fu had broken still hurts distantly, but it’s mostly healed. Jabber’s determined not to let it impact the fight, he wants Zanka to give him an even better souvenir injury.

Both he and Zanka are impaired by the tight space. He can’t properly utilize Mankira’s true form like this, but the smaller form works well enough that he can still have that over Zanka. When Zanka tries to use a full Lovely Assistaff swing it ends up taking long enough in the tight space that Jabber can duck under and get in close to try and scratch him. Zanka’s forced to bounce back and forth, trying to think of other ways to use his jinki.

Somehow, Zanka’s brilliant plan to surprise Jabber ends up with Jabber having the advantage, and he’s furious. He translates that anger into the fight as he does his absolute best to kill Jabber, which Jabber loves of course.

Jabber attacks, Zanka dodges, and tries to launch a counterattack, Jabber predicts it, Zanka adapts and kicks him in the face, he spits blood on the ground and grins. Somehow, this all happens within five seconds. 

The fight is fast paced and high stakes, Zanka knows one mistake here could mean getting killed, and perfection means getting to kill Jabber. He’s never felt so alive.

There’s a moment where Zanka slams Jabber into a wall. Jabber propels himself off the crumbling stone and launches back at Zanka with renewed vigor. Zanka catches his claws with Lovely Assistaff horizontal over his chest, and he pushes Jabber back to force him up against the wall once again.

Jabber lets out a grunt as he’s pinned against the wall, and Zanka smirks at the sight, at the noise, and at the entire situation. He thinks he may just win and get his revenge on the Raider he hates so much.

Then, Jabber starts laughing, “Man Zanka, you’re fun!” His anima grows, and Mankira follows, her true form coming out in the cramped alleyway. When Jabber swings her, there’s nowhere for Zanka to run.

Zanka is forced to use Lovely Assistaff to parry every one of his attacks, but because of this all he can attack with are his legs. He does his best to kick Jabber and subdue him just long enough to get Lovely Assistaff back into his fighting rhythm. No such chance presents itself.

Jabber notices the desperation in his legs and when Zanka pushes off a graffitied wall to try and kick Jabber once more, Jabber catches his leg with a claw in the calf. He giggles as he watches Zanka’s face seethe with rage.

Mankira goes back into her ring state and he sinks into a criss-cross applesauce sit to observe Zanka. Little does the Cleaner know it, but he’s the guinea pig that’s been injected with the very mushroom that reminded Jabber of him. Jabber sighs with the poetic-ness of it.

Zanka’s still moving, so the drug doesn’t immobilize anyone. He’s definitely hallucinating though, cause he doesn’t seem to give a fuck about Jabber waving his hand right in front of his face. His eyes are wide as dinner plates so Jabber blows into them, Zanka blinks and stares at the direction the breeze came from without really seeing anything. Jabber giggles again.

“Hmmm…” He considers his options. He doesn’t reaaally wanna hand over Zanka to Zodyl, cause if Zanka’s dead he can’t fight him again.

Jabber grins at the high mess, “It’s your lucky day, Mr. Bad Attitude.”

A cold breeze ruffles a Cleaner uniform. Birds chirp in the early morning beneath lazily drifting clouds. Zanka groans to consciousness, trying to remember why it feels like his leg’s on fire.

He’s… where is he? He looks around and recognizes… uh… there’s a scrawny, leafless tree over there he thinks he knows. Oh wait, he’s leaning against a tree. When he tries to stand up his burning leg screams in protest. He looks down to see his lower pant leg soaked in blood.

He grabs at the bottom of his pants to pull them up, frantically searching for a wound. What he sees is a thin layer of gauze, inexpertly applied, to what feels like three stab wounds. The stab wounds make everything rush back to him.

He sits back down and watches the never-ending pollution clouds drift across the sky. Okay, so, Jabber didn’t kill him when he very much had the chance to. Does that mean… actually Zanka has no clue. He’s got a headache and his leg still feels very much on fire.

He takes another look around him and recognizes the piles of trash, he’s near Cleaner Headquarters. Jabber fought him and then dropped him off at headquarters. And, he dropped off Lovely Assistaff too. Not a single mark on her. Zanka’s grateful, but he doesn’t understand it.

Zanka tries to merge his opinions of Jabber as he limps back to headquarters. There’s the creepy guy that likes to attack people, who creeps up behind you in the dark and attacks you when you’re not paying attention, who poisons you and laughs at you tweaking out, and this is somehow the same guy that dropped him and his vital instrument off at headquarters after wrapping the wound he put there? Granted, he did a terrible job wrapping the wound.

All the thinking is making his head hurt even more. He decides just to focus on getting back so Eishia can heal his leg. He kicks trash out of his way, taking his anger out on innocent stuffed animals that had fallen from the sphere.

He didn’t really have a plan for what to tell anybody that saw him limping in with a bloodstained leg, but he gets lucky enough that nobody’s awake. Vaguely, he estimates the time to be four in the morning. He’s so tired.

Ok, go wake up Eishia and face August’s wrath or get a nap in a real bed and then just go to her in the morning. It’s a no brainer.

He savors the warm shower that’s afforded to him by the Cleaners and examines his leg wound closer. There are indeed three stabs, he doesn’t know what Jabber was doing with his fourth finger but he doesn’t really care. Mankira’s blades sliced into him easily and left clean exit wounds. The bleeding had stopped and the wounds were properly clotting, but damn, whatever Jabber had injected him with burns.

Little does the Raider know, the burn just lights a fire under Zanka to kill him. He’s going to find him again, he’s going to make sure it’s not in a cramped alleyway, and he’s going to kill him.

Zanka hates being worse than Jabber. He hates losing to this natural talent again and again. And he hates that the natural talent had just let him go. When he’s healed up he’s going to hurt Jabber until he learns why letting Zanka go isn’t a good idea.

Right after he takes a nap.

It’s been four days. Eishia didn’t question the wound as it was early morning and Zanka didn’t feel like volunteering any information. Thanks to her medical opinion, Zanka still can’t do trash beast missions. He’s still sparring and training, but it doesn’t do much good when he can’t get real practice in. 

On the second day after the fight, Zanka just happened to visit Fukistu City again, though he didn’t pass by any parts where he had seen Jabber before.

On the third day after the fight, Zanka had patrolled the areas where he saw Jabber before. He was just making sure no innocent civilians fell victim to his craziness.

Now, on the fourth day after the fight, Zanka is in the same spot he originally posted himself in that night, watching the same stall.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. This is idiotic. There’s no point at all in being here. He should go get products for Lovely and do his care routine for her.

He wonders what polish Jabber uses for Mankira. 

Jabber probably doesn’t wipe Mankira down after every fight like he does Lovely Assistaff, he can’t see Jabber ever willingly taking Mankira off. He probably still does a daily check in though. It’s easy to spend a few minutes to glance down at your hands and run your fingers over your rings. The first thing Zanka does every morning is check in on his staff, but he’s never asked other givers if they’re the same with their jinki.

When Lovely Assistaff’s wood looks dry, Zanka oils her until she looks healthy again, but who’d oil a ring. Zanka wonders what material she’s made of. Maybe Jabber uses a toothbrush or something similar to scrub grime off of her throughout the day? The thought makes Zanka snort and it drags him out of his thoughts enough to notice Jabber at the stall again.

Zanka stands up straighter, hands itching to grab Lovely Assistaff. He watches Jabber talk again with the salesman, and giggle. Slowly, Jabber turns to make direct eye contact with Zanka.

Zanka freezes, his frown stays on his face but internally he’s freaking out. Had Jabber known he was there the whole time before too? Jabber smirks at Zanka’s scowl and turns to walk the fastest route out of town. Zanka huffs, but follows. He really wants to beat the shit out of Jabber.

This is dumb, he thinks, I’m probably walking into a trap. But he keeps walking.

Jabber weaves through crowds like he’s trying to lose Zanka. The Cleaner has to speedwalk at times to make sure he doesn’t lose him. Eventually he realizes there’s no real reason to stay twenty feet away from Jabber, they both know he’s there.

Zanka gets closer and closer despite every instinct in his body screaming to run. Then, Jabber turns to smirk at him again and he forgets everything his body is trying to tell him. He’s gonna wipe the smile off that smug face.

Jabber turns a corner, only five feet away from Zanka, and when Zanka turns he realizes they’re at the very edge of the city. Outside is miles of dust, rows of trash, and a thin path winding through them. Somehow, standing further away than should be possible, is a giggling Jabber with Mankira already in her first form.

“Bad Attitude!” Jabber calls happily, “I knew you liked me too!”

“I’m going to kill you,” Zanka grits his teeth as he pulls out Lovely Assistaff to begin fighting.

Jabber bites his lip, “You know just how to get a man going.”

Their weapons meet in the middle again, saying hi to each other with a loud clang. The owners show all their teeth as a hello, one in a smile and the other in a snarl.

Zanka swings his weapon with ferocity, aiming to knock Jabber down so that he can properly kill him. Jabber loves his anger, yet he bounces back further and further into the trash.

Zanka keeps following him forwards, so engrossed in the fight that he forgets to wear his mask as he heads into the trash piles. Thankfully, it’s not too polluted in this area.

Jabber keeps baiting him, occasionally slashing at Zanka when the other seems to realize what’s happening. Zanka keeps dutifully hitting Jabber, not understanding that his hits are being allowed.

It takes Zanka until Fukistu City is on the horizon for him to stop and pull back from attacking. He admires his handiwork in the cuts on Jabber’s clothes and face.

“Where are you taking me?” He asks, holding Lovely’s prongs towards Jabber.

“Why are you following me?” Jabber retorts, grinning like a madman, “C’mon Zan-zan! It’s a better place for fighting.”

Zanka raises one of his weird eyebrows, “What are you talking about?” Jabber just turns and runs on all fours with Mankira pushing him forwards like some type of big cat. Zanka curses and runs after him.

After twenty or so minutes the sea of trash starts coming to an end. Zanka questions how Jabber can so easily stay sprinting for twenty minutes straight, but he refuses to lose to the genius in any more fronts. He can hear Jabber laugh with glee whenever he turns his head to check that Zanka’s still following him.

The running gets to a point that Zanka’s only thought is breathe. He refuses to lose. Absolutely not. He’d rather run himself to death, but he can go a lot longer than twenty minutes if it comes to that.

A ghost town comes into view, and Jabber’s making a beeline for what looks to be an old parking garage. If Zanka had to guess he’d say that a trash beast had gone on a rampage in the city. Parts were crumbling and there didn’t look to be any electricity. How had Jabber even found this place?

Jabber doesn’t slow down as he approaches the parking garage, and uses Mankira to climb the wall to get into an opening maybe ten feet off the ground. The idea of finally having an end in sight renews Zanka’s energy, and he uses Lovely to propel himself off the ground.

When he gets inside the building he has a hard time seeing through all the dust floating around. Trash is piled up around the edges and little pieces of it float through the air, obscuring his vision.

Standing in the shadows across the room is Jabber with Mankira fully activated, “From now on, we meet here. None of the four of us like fighting in cramped areas.”

Zanka doesn’t even consider the implications behind his first sentence, “I don’t know how to get here again, I followed your dumbass.” Why is he responding to the Raider? Why does he want to know how to get here??

Right. To get stronger.

“I’ll draw you a map once I knock you unconscious,” Jabber kindly offers as he lunges forwards, pulling Mankira’s larger claws to swing dangerously at his opponent. Zanka has to jump backwards to avoid them, but he’s tired from the run. He can feel himself moving slower.

“C’mon Zan-zan~~” Jabber coos, “I’m so excited for my beatdown!” Zanka’s happy to comply, slamming Lovely Assistaff into Jabber’s hip. Jabber tries to grab his arm but Zanka predicts it and yanks Lovely Assistaff up in a way that pushes his hand away. Jabber giggles in delight.

Jabber slashes at Zanka’s chest, only giving Zanka enough time to dodge by inches. He forgets about the larger claws though, and has to use Lovely Assistaff to stop them from piercing him as he goes flying into a wall. Cracks form in the wall behind him and he feels blood seeping down his neck, no doubt staining the second uniform in four days.

“I hate you,” He mutters, kicking off the wall to try and get another hit in.

Zanka’s not paying enough attention to himself to notice it, but his instincts are getting faster. Fighting a genius does that to you. If he really just wants to get stronger, he’s accomplishing that task. Even while tired from a twenty minute run, he’s landing harder and harder hits, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jabber.

Zanka manages to whack Jabber in the chest, forcing him flat on the ground.

“Zanka~,” Jabber breathes heavily, “You’re so strong, so good at fighting.” The compliment makes Zanka flush and pause for just a moment, which Jabber uses to cut his arm. Zanka does his best to fight through the drug and punches Jabber weakly in the jaw, but eventually he collapses.

Jabber then lays him flat on his back, “Yeah that’s my neurotoxin, didja miss it? A looot less nice than the blue mushroom one Zanky.” Eventually they both start giggling, then laughing, a scene very similar to that of the trash beast fight.

Eishia hurries to plug in her vital instrument and rushes over to Zanka, though this cut on his arm is not half as bad as the stab wounds he had in his leg. She wonders where these wounds could be coming from.

“Make sure you don’t have anything metal touching your skin, okay?” She says as she prepares to use her jinki. Zanka nods and pulls off his metal accessories, setting them in his pocket. His hands brush a piece of paper that he didn’t put there.

“So, what exactly happened?” She asks as she puts her hands out to send an electric shock. Zanka fidgets with the paper in his pocket, curious about its origins.

“Just training,” He responds, “Would it be okay if you don’t tell Enjin or Semiu about this? I don’t want them to worry.” Eishia nods.

As she puts her instrument away and declares him good to go, he pulls out the paper to examine it.

It’s a map.

Chapter Text

Zanka needs to get stronger.

And so it comes to be that Zanka and Jabber meet up every week to fight, and when Zanka inevitably loses he passes out and wakes up back at Cleaner’s Headquarters. He somehow has made a routine thing out of it.

Every Saturday morning, Eishia wakes up early to see Zanka already waiting in her infirmary. She never questions what mess exactly Zanka has gotten himself into, and Zanka never seems willing to tell. She heals slight injuries, sometimes worse than others, and the two pretend the meetings never happen at all outside of that room.

She could say she’s grateful for the practice, Zanka’s patient with her and always explains everything he knows about the injury (sans the poison, but Eishia doesn’t know that) and he keeps absolutely still when she uses her vital instrument.

Honestly though, she’s worried about what exactly is going on with Zanka. He’s a mellow guy around headquarters, only ever getting worked up when he’s yelling at Rudo. She knows he values training above his own health, but she doesn’t see how training can result in stab wounds like that.

She doesn't want him to go on missions, but her original recommended rest period ended months ago and she doesn’t have any way to extend it without revealing what he’s been doing.

“Is he going out to fight trash beasts on his own? As a way to try and get a leg up in training?” Eishia thinks out loud.

“HUH?” August yells from across his workshop, he’s blasting music in his headphones as he compares fabrics. Eishia shakes her head and lets him go back to working.

Eishia loves everyone at Cleaner Headquarters dearly, but her brother is her brother, and none of the rest of them have that bond. When she’s had a long day she loves to vent her frustrations to her brother, who’s surprisingly good at listening to her without trying to solve her problems. She thinks there’s a soft side to him that most people don’t look closely enough to see. 

Even when she’s not had a long day, but a good day, she’ll end it by hanging out with August and watching him work. It reminds her of when they were both little and he would dress her up in different dresses and jewelry from their mom’s closet. She always loved that her brother chose her to be his model every time.

Sometimes when they’ve both had rough days (like if someone’s rushed his order) they’ll braid each other’s hair while eating cookies from their grandmother. Though they both have more official, time consuming roles in the Cleaners, they spend a lot of time hanging out.

So when Eishia started noticing how Zanka would disappear early Friday nights and return Saturday mornings with fresh wounds and bags under his eyes, she talked about it with August. He could make her feel better about anything.

After so many sessions of Eishia talking with August about her worries, he asks, “So, have you ever actually talked with him about it?” She knows he’s not pressuring her, just genuinely asking.

“Well, I,” She thinks for a moment, “I guess I technically haven’t… but he seems so secretive about the whole thing.” He nods and returns to work, still listening to her.

“I’d ask him about it if I thought he was gonna be honest but… I just don’t want to scare him off and then he doesn’t get any healing. If I have to choose between getting to know whatever’s going on or having him come to me with injuries, I’d choose for him to actually be healthy.”

August nods and gestures for her to hand him fabric scissors, “You sound worried, what’d he do this time?” Eishia sighs and starts explaining, so puzzled about the whole situation that had been going on for far too long.

One particular Saturday right after healing Zanka, she immediately goes to go find August. She desperately needs to talk to someone about this to check that she isn’t going crazy. She usually talks to him in the evening, but she’s sure he’d understand why this is a different scenario.

She goes to check in his workshop, and sees nobody there. The walk to his workshop and the walk back are too silent. She wonders where everyone is before remembering that Zanka gets back so early in the morning it’s usually only ever the two of them awake. He seems to be very averse to anyone else knowing about his mysterious injuries.

The cafeteria only has a kindly supporter with a bowl of cereal, and she quickly waves at him but hustles to leave in case she can’t hide her anxiety from him. She grabs a plate of cookies as an apology for her brother, she’s gonna have to wake him up since the only room left is his bedroom, but she really needs to talk to somebody about this.

She knocks on August’s door tentatively, and he shouts, “COME IN!”

She closes the door behind her and nervously sits on the edge of his bed, “Hey Auggie.” She struggles to find an excuse as to why she came, so she offers up the cookies in place of words. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and happily reaches for one.

“IS THIS ABOUT-”

“Shh-shh!!!” She hushes frantically, “Yes, it’s him again. I’ve, um, come to get another one of his uniforms.” She picks up Zanka’s extra uniforms when she notices a particularly bad bloodstain because she knows how much he wants to hide his weekly escapades. Zanka doesn’t want to have to ask August for a new uniform because that’d mean revealing exactly what he’s doing to August, as she knows her older brother can’t hold back questions, and Zanka can’t just wear the bloodied uniforms because that’d reveal whatever he’s doing to everyone else and then Semiu could just look at him to find the truth.

Eishia had considered asking Semiu to look, just so that she could treat him better by knowing more about the injuries, but she also knew that it would be a betrayal of trust. Having Semiu read you was a bizarre experience, and nobody knew how much she got except for the boss, so Eishia didn’t want to subject Zanka to that

“Wait, another uniform? I gave you his new extra just last week,” August complains. Eishia can only shrug with a sorry expression on her face.

“I’ll give you it,” He barters, “If you tell me what happened this time.” Eishia sighs but smiles, August gives her the excuse she wants to talk about her increasingly worrying experiences.

“Y’know how they’re usually stab wounds?” August nods and she continues, “Well, his sleeve was super bloody today and when I got a better look at it turns out something had stabbed straight through his ulna and broke it. That’s this one.” She points to the spot where Zanka’s bone had broken in two on her brother’s forearm and he winces at the thought of it.

“OUCH! HOW’S- oh, sorry!” Eishia had made several shushing motions, “How’s he gonna hide this one from Enjin?”

Eishia runs a nervous hand through her hair, “I don’t know! I did my best but it’s gonna take at least a few days to heal and he has a mission like tomorrow!”

“Hey with your expertise I bet he’ll be all better by tonight,” August gives her a thumbs up as he hands her a new uniform shirt for Zanka. Eishia internally grimaces at the thought of how much fabric they’re going through. The way Zanka’s flying through shirts is starting to be reminiscent of the Sphere.

Eishia takes the clothes only to set them down and give her brother a hug, “Thank you Auggie. I’ll let you sleep now.”

August pats her reassuringly on the head, “Anytime. If you could though, tell Zanka to schedule his next arm breakings for around midday when normal people get up.” Eishia laughs and nods, but it’s short-lived.

Because when they pull apart they see Enjin leaning against the door frame, evidently he overheard August’s yelling and decided to come check it out.

“Ah, so we’re talking about Zanka right now,” He says. The Stilza siblings pale at the team leader watching them.

August is the first to brave the silence, “Yooo, boss man! Wassup?”

Then a few seconds later, “How much didja hear?”

That morning:

Either very late in the night or very early in the morning Zanka arrives at one of the middle levels of their parking garage. He doesn’t need the map anymore, just slips out for a night time walk every Friday evening and somehow always ends up at the same place. Six miles away. It’s about a two hour hike, at least half through a polluted zone. Zanka doesn’t have a problem. 

He’s pretty certain by now Jabber’s not gonna kill him, and he’s getting stronger. So it’s not a problem, it’s a good thing.

Jabber’s crouching on a trash pile in the corner, shrouded in shadows. Zanka can only spot him after he activates Mankira. Unlike their first few meets when they were still awkward, they don’t immediately shift into fighting positions.

“Zankaa~” He calls across the cold stone room, “What took so long today man? I almost fell asleep here.” He cocks his head in that way that reminds Zanka so much of a cute little kitten, just one with venomous claws.

“I’ve got a life y’know,” Zanka responds as he pulls out Lovely Assistaff, “I had a difficult mission today.” He remembers how Enjin had complimented his growth on said mission when he took out a large trash beast with ease and feels a happy flush grow across his face.

Jabber makes a face as he finally bounds forwards to attack Zanka, “Who’d you fight?” Their first few hits are warm up attacks as they both get into the rhythm of their twisted dance.

“Hah! Somebody sounds jealous.”

Jabber swipes for real at Zanka’s arm, causing the actual fight to start.

“I don’t give a fuck man, I fight other people all the time,” Jabber says, not quite sure himself if he’s lying. About the jealousy. He does fight other people all the time. They’re just nowhere as fun as Zanka. Speaking of, he got distracted and is paying for it with a brutal smack to the head.

“Yeah you fight other people, but do you use Mankira’s real form with other people?” Zanka asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. He takes pride in his ability to force the Raider to use the huge version of Mankira. He takes pride in how much Jabber enjoys fighting him out of all people.

Jabber throws up a pile of trash to have cover so he can try and attack Zanka from behind, yet he’s delighted when Zanka blocks him and keeps the fight going. Zanka searches and finds him behind a pile of falling ceramic pots, and uses Lovely Assistaff to pin him to the wall. Jabber lets it happen.

“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine,” Jabber offers, leaning in enough to Zanka’s face to make the other relieve the pressure, giving him a chance to swing Mankira again.

“Fine,” Zanka feigns nonchalance about the idea of someone else forcing Mankira’s real form, “I was fighting you Raider’s fucky ass trash beasts. The ones with vital instruments powering them. The mission took longer than we thought it was gonna.” Something in Jabber unclenches as he hears this.

Zanka catches Jabber’s waist in between Lovely Assistaff’s prongs and throws him around like a ragdoll. Jabber giggles for a second on the ground before getting up and activating Mankira for real.

“Zanka, you’re so good to me. Keep beating me up this good and I’ll tell you anything you want, pretty boy.”

“That’s not an answer to my question dumbass,” Zanka yells as he swings Lovely Assistaff over his head and tries to bring her spikes directly into Jabber’s face. He doesn’t know why he’s talking so much today. The subject matter isn’t even that good.

Jabber focuses more than usual for a second to catch Lovely Assistaff’s shaft despite the strain it puts on his hands, and he pulls Zanka close to finally answer, “No. You’re the only person I’ve fought in the past few months that’s gotten the real Mankira.” Zanka smirks again before kicking Jabber’s legs ruthlessly to knock him over.

The fighting continues for more satisfying minutes that stretch on and on. Zanka can feel himself performing better than ever before. The knowledge that he really is getting stronger makes everything in the universe feel right. Every landed hit on Jabber’s skin, every small scrape and dose that he built up enough of an immunity to push past, they all stroke his ego in a beautiful, beautiful way. This is what he should be doing to train, even if the other Cleaners aren’t able to see it.

Mankira and Lovely Assistaff meet again, and again, and again. Sparks fly when they embrace and their Givers engage in a frenzied violence. The four of them are ecstatic, fighting with all their heart.

Eventually Zanka lands a particularly hard hit on Jabber’s foot that would set him up for success in the ensuing minutes, but Jabber catches him on the follow through and stabs a claw through his arm.

“Oopsies,” Jabber’s eyes go wide when he hears a distinct crack. Zanka curses and starts to feel himself slowly slip away.

He fights the drugs for just a few moments, spending them on staring at the glowing pink eyes with the long lashes, “Good fight.” Despite how much he hates the Raider, he doesn’t want him to think he’s mad at a little arm crack.

Jabber grins as he grabs Zanka’s waist to pick him up and take him back to his Cleaner home, “Good fight, Zan-zan.”

When Zanka comes to outside of Cleaner Headquarters his arm is throbbing like a little bitch. He says some choice words as he pulls back his ruined sleeve to look at the wound. There’s thankfully an attempt at bandaging the wound, but it doesn’t stop blood from staining the white sleeve. August is gonna be pissed, this is like the seventh time he stained a sleeve. He thinks he’s probably destroyed more pants but he honestly can’t remember. Thank fuck for Eishia being willing to talk to her scary brother for him.

Eishia’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline the moment she walks into the infirmary to see Zanka cradling his arm. She rushes to set up her vital instrument even faster than usual.

“I think it’s just a bad stab in the arm bone,” Zanka offers as he sticks out his arm towards her. He usually has more helpful, articulate advice but he can’t really remember arm anatomy at the moment with it hurting so bad.

Eishia nods and takes his arm in her hands to examine, “There’s two forearm bones; the ulna and the radius. Looks like this got the… ulna.” Zanka nods, pretending he understands the difference as he doesn’t listen to any of it. He makes sure to force a smile when Eishia looks at him, but he wants to just get out of there and go to bed. He was so fucking sure he was fighting well today, how the hell did Jabber stab his arm? Everything Eishia says about his injury goes over his head, he’s positive it’s just an ugly looking cut.

Eishia fidgets with her jinki for a second after healing Zanka, “Zanka there’s actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Zanka holds back a sigh because Eishia doesn’t deserve that, he just really wants to get back to his room.

“What are you really doing? I know you said this is training but,” She gestures at the mess that is his arm, “That doesn’t happen from one person training. I can’t fix this in one visit, I’m gonna need to put it in a splint for a few days.”

“You can heal it though, right?” Zanka asks promptly. She nods, but her eyes plead with him to answer the question.

He sighs and considers how to put it without freaking her out, “Look, I’ve been… training with someone else. It’s a strong person who makes me stronger, and I’m taking down trash beasts faster because of them. I need to keep doing this, Eishia, I’m not as naturally talented as everyone else here. I won’t belong if I don’t go the extra mile to succeed.”

She nods again and attaches the splint to his arm. They sit in a slightly uncomfortable silence and both think about whether or not this can continue. How long this can last. Eventually, she lets Zanka go to bed so long as he promises to be careful with his arm. She knows he’ll do anything he can to avoid having to sleep in the infirmary, and she can hopefully use that to keep him off the arm for a few days if she lets him sleep in his room. Then she heads off to find August.

Eishia finishes relaying her part of the story to Enjin, Semiu, and Gris. Pretty much all the people Zanka told her not to tell. After this she’s gonna have to go have another therapy session with her brother.

“Thank you Eishia, you don’t have to stay here anymore if you don’t want to,” Gris says kindly, not trying to kick her out but acknowledging that she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. She quickly nods and scampers away.

Enjin sighs and almost instantly lights a cigarette that both Gris and Semiu make a face at him for. He sighs and snubs it out on the table’s ashtray.

“So Zanka’s fighting someone, since some point in time, at some place, for some purpose,” He counts all the unknown variables on his fingers.

“Hey, stay positive. We’re pretty sure he’s fighting for the sake of getting stronger,” Gris says, nudging Enjin’s shoulder with his own. The couple doesn’t bother to hide their affection in front of Semiu who’s been around since the awkward stages of the relationship.

Enjin grumbles in agreement, then settles his gaze on Semiu, “There is one way we could get all the other information though.” He doesn’t see it as a betrayal if he can keep the kid from breaking his arm with one little peek from her glasses. Semiu looks unconvinced. 

“I don’t really want to breach his trust like that, I only do readings without permission when they’re mandatory. Like for the weird kids you bring in who’re suspicious, Rudo or Fu.”

“Yeah but this is for his sake. He broke his arm this time, what if he breaks his neck next?” Enjin argues. Gris’ hand squeezes his, reminding him to not get ahead of himself.

“It’s one broken arm after what appears to be several months of sparring with this mystery partner. I’m sure Zanka knows what he’s doing,” Gris says.

“Listen to yourself,” Enjin exclaims, “A ‘Mystery Partner’! You don’t wanna know who’s willing to break Zanka’s arm and then just dump him at Cleaner Headquarters and assume Eishia will fix everything?”

“Eishia did say he had a shitty bandage job on his arm already,” Semiu corrects, “So kudos to ‘Mystery Partner’ for that.” Enjin groans, he’s absolutely not accepting that the kid is just fighting random people who don’t even know first aid.

Semiu can see how worked up Enjin’s getting and she finally offers to do a reading, since she’s certain she won’t find anything. She tells Enjin though that she’s not telling him the name of Mystery Partner unless it’s really bad. Enjin begrudgingly accepts.

The sheets of Zanka’s bed feel different, thinner and colder. Gone is the weight of the blankets he piles on to his bed to stay warm. The room is brighter too, he usually puts the blinds over his window as he sleeps. After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he opens them up to see the interior of the infirmary.

He blinks, “What?” He sits up and sees that he’s now wearing a proper cast and not just a splint that he can easily hide. How did he get here?

He feels a bit sleep addled but he thinks he might have an idea of what happened. Eishia must’ve been really stressed about the arm injury if she made him sleep here. Wait, no, she let him sleep in his room. Why is he here?

Eishia sees him wake up from across the room and makes to leave the room. Zanka calls out for her to wait, but she only goes faster. He grumbles and lays back down to collect his thoughts.

He fought Jabber, did good for a bit, then the bastard took advantage of him not paying attention in the seconds after an attack to get him in the arm. The same damn thing that happened in the trash beast, Zanka thinks with a snarl.

He had woken up with the cheap gauze that Jabber always puts on his injuries and went to Eishia, who gave him a splint for some reason and sent him to bed. Yeah, he remembers going to bed in his room and thinking about strangling Jabber. Though he’d probably like that.

So what’s he doing back in the infirmary?

The door opens again and Eishia returns with Enjin. Zanka freezes, and then sits up quickly while hiding his cast underneath the blanket. Eishia nods at Enjin and practically runs out. She looks guilty, Zanka notes.

“Enjin,” He says, “What am I doing here?” Enjin traverses the room and looks down at where Zanka’s partially sitting up with his weight against the headboard. He crosses his arms and Zanka notes that he does not look happy.

“Well Zanka, this is typically where people sleep after a fight,” Enjin answers. Zanka wants to ask Eishia to see if she knows why he’s acting like this, but she had just fled the scene. Even if he had found out Zanka got a little cut earlier, surely he wouldn’t be that upset about it.

“Do you,” Zanka begins tentatively, “Know about that?” Enjin nods without a word and Zanka’s stomach drops. His mentor looks disappointed, it brings back memories of his parents when they learned he was joining the Cleaners. Zanka desperately thinks of a way to smooth it over, but his arm is still throbbing incessantly and distracting him with how much he wants to punch Jabber.

“But one little cut’s not enough of a reason to sleep in the infirmary,” He tries, not managing to meet the team leader’s eyes.

Enjin lets out a mirthless snort, “He broke it.”

“Huh?” Did Enjin just say ‘he’?

“You broke your arm. That’s why you’re sleeping in the infirmary.”

“Oh,” Is all Zanka has to say in response, still avoiding eye contact to take another look at his arm. Enjin’s jaw tightens at the lackluster reaction to learning about a broken bone.

Zanka takes a good long look at his arm. He can’t see the injury since it’s beneath a cast, but he can try and feel what’s happening underneath the cast. The throbbing he felt is a little closer to the wrist than the elbow and there are a few different slices, he can tell. It feels like one of Jabber’s claws got the bone and the others simply sliced through his muscles like they usually do.

It really hadn’t seemed that bad before. He hopes Eishia can still heal it by next Friday.

“So you decided not to tell anyone about your broken arm this morning, anything else you’re not telling us that maybe you should be?” Enjin brings Zanka back into reality.

Zanka’s head snaps up to stare at Enjin. What does he know?

“Anything about who exactly is breaking your arm?” Enjin asks expectantly with one raised eyebrow.

“Um,” Zanka swallows, “It’s just a training partner.”

“Name?” Enjin prods further. The way he’s asking, Zanka’s pretty sure he already somehow knows. Still, there’s no way Zanka’s honestly saying who he’s been fighting. Just on the off chance that Enjin doesn’t know.

“It’s just an old Hell Guard friend, they’re helping me get stronger. You wouldn’t know them.”

Enjin just watches Zanka lie. He doesn’t say anything before turning around and walking out stiffly. Zanka feels his body go tense at the sight. How much does he already know?

He disappointed Enjin. Just like how he disappointed his family. Just like how he’s going to disappoint everyone.

He remembers how Kyouka looked at him when he said he was leaving Hell Guard. Disappointed, but not surprised.

Zanka waits until his breathing calms down, and then he calls Jabber on his choker.

“Jabber, I think we got a problem.”

“Well how mad is mad?” Jabber asks. He’s lying on the ground with his legs up against a wall, talking to his sweet little Zan-zan, and boy his Zan-zan does not sound happy.

“About how cheerful I sound right now,” Zanka growls over the choker. He’s trying to get Jabber to see how serious the situation is. Jabber always knew that if the Cleaners found out they’d be angry, but he’s tickled pink that Zanka also seems mad. Zanka really wants to continue fighting him that much!

“Aw, Zanka you sound just peachy to me,” Jabber’s smile is audible in his voice. He hears Zanka let out a noise of frustration on the other end of the line and holds back a giggle. Zanka’s really gonna let him have it in their next fight.

“I’m being serious right now Jabber. If they’re really that mad there might not even be a next fight.” He practically reads Jabber’s mind. No next fight? That’s one way to ruin Jabber’s morning.

Jabber huffs, “Man I’m sorry but how do you want me to help this? If you had done better earlier, your arm wouldn’t be broken right now.” It’s what they’re both thinking, Jabber just voices the thoughts.

“I’m actually going to kill you,” Zanka mutters. Jabber pictures his expression and giggles, no doubt infuriating the other even more.

“Good luck doing that when they ban you from fighting me,” Jabber teases. He doesn’t know why he circles back to that. Both of them sit in silence for a moment, thinking about what they’ll do if they can’t fight again. Jabber really doesn’t understand it, but the thought makes his stomach curl up in fear. He feels a little nauseous, but that’s probably the poisons in his system.

“I’ve got to go,” Zanka interrupts his train of thought, “I’ll see you on Friday. No matter what they try to enforce.”

Jabber stares up at the ceiling as the words swish around in his head. Why did Zanka bother to reassure him, and why does he like the reassurance so much?

He gets up to go find Zodyl, maybe there’s a fighting mission with his name on it. Though he’s already got a pleasant limp from Zanka whacking the shit out of his foot.

Gris rounds the corner to see Zanka talking into his choker, he waves to get Zanka’s attention so the younger one can hang up. He looks panicked when he realizes Gris has been watching him.

“I’ve got to go,” Gris makes out Zanka saying, then his voice drops down to mutter something else that Gris can’t hear. He bets he already knows who’s on the other side of the Choker. Zanka really is purposefully meeting up with that Raider.

Gris sits on the edge of Zanka’s bed to offer him breakfast. Zanka isn’t forbidden from leaving the infirmary, but after Gris saw Enjin storm out he figured somebody better bring Zanka food in case he didn’t want to leave the room.

Zanka takes it with a nod, and he looks a bit guilty. Gris wonders how he ever hid it if he was this obvious the whole time, then Gris realizes he’s looking guiltily specifically at him.

Oh right, Gris remembers, Jabber also put me on bedrest for a bit. They’ve got that in common, but Gris didn’t seek out the Raider afterwards to have a round two. Zanka’s probably feeling guilty because he’s hanging out with the man that almost killed Gris. Still, the supporter can’t find it in himself to be upset with him. He’s got enough on his plate as it is.

Zanka tears at the crust of his toast before slowly asking Gris a question. The supporter can tell he’s building up conviction, and provides a comforting smile. He doesn’t know what Enjin said earlier, but it seemed to have shredded Zanka’s self-confidence. That wasn’t good, Enjin loved the kid so much. He shouldn’t be going around stomping on every little attempt he makes to grow stronger.

“Is Enjin mad?” Zanka finally asks with a smaller voice than Gris has heard him use in years. The quiet voice pierces his heart and he vows to have a stern discussion with Enjin later.

“We just want you to be healthy, that’s all,” Gris deflects. He doesn’t know how to honestly answer. Enjin’s acting like everything’s fine and dandy, but Gris can see he really is frustrated.

Zanka nods and gives up on asking anything else. Gris pats his shoulder reassuringly and stands to leave. He’s gonna have to tell Enjin that Zanka’s choker can call Jabber.

The toast tastes like cardboard. Zanka sets it aside after only two bites to stare at the wall across from him.

He really just can’t do anything right.

He’s not going to cry. He doesn’t cry.

A single tear slides down Zanka’s cheek before he wipes it away and goes back to eating.

Chapter Text

Zanka leaves the infirmary after breakfast at nine in the morning, later than his usual standard. He would’ve left five minutes earlier but he heard voices and the corridor and wanted to avoid talking to people. Eishia doubtless took him out of his room for the sake of keeping him away from his alarm clock, forcing him to miss out on training and rest. Regardless, he now heads to the gym to train since he missed his usual session that morning while he was snoozing away.

He wonders if Eishia would allow him to train if he hadn’t snuck out without asking her first. She’d probably be too worried about the small cut, or rather, the broken arm.

He knows Enjin would want him to rest. Enjin seems to be against him training properly. In years past his mentor had always maintained the attitude that too much training would have a detrimental effect on his overall performance, Zanka sees this as a result of genius ignorance. Someone with natural talent will never understand how hard Average Joes have to work.

In Zanka’s first few months after joining the Cleaners, he continued following the schedule of the Hell Guard. He replaced studying for school with studying names, jinkis, and the different data the Cleaners had on trash beasts. His dedication to learning helped him understand how to better bond with Lovely Assistaff. However, when he would spend too much time in the library for Enjin’s liking, the mentor would take the younger boy out on a mission or a simple chore run. It got in the way of Zanka learning properly, but he always admired Enjin too much to argue with him.

When Zanka activated Lovely Assistaff for the first time, he had made an hour long daily workout that revolved around learning the best ways to wield her. Enjin had forbidden Zanka from following it, and when Zanka spent more than thirty minutes doing nothing but swinging around his staff, Enjin would grab Riyo and make him spar her because the two of them would always go to the infirmary together after a spar, meaning Zanka would be forced to stop training. Zanka didn’t mind that much either, as he wanted to bond more with Riyo and agreed that sparring was a good idea.

Enjin had even gone so far as to recruit Gris and Bro to report back to him if they saw Zanka working too hard. When Zanka was up training at times he knew his mentor to be unconscious during, the man would still somehow show up with messy hair and tired eyes to talk Zanka into sleeping. Zanka liked that least, but Enjin was crankiest when he had no sleep. Zanka would allow Enjin to think he’d gone to bed, and slip out to train somewhere besides the gym. Once he figured out that Gris and Bro were the ones responsible for waking Enjin, he started talking them out of worrying about him and scheduled his early morning training sessions for when they weren’t around.

The start of Zanka’s career at the Cleaners was wonderful, but looking through the specific lens of Enjin impeding Zanka’s path to growing better, it really seems like a dumb idea to leave Hell Guard.

Zanka would never change a thing he had done after the well, since then his life had improved tenfold. Still, he’ll never grasp why Enjin doesn’t want him to improve his abilities. He has a long way to go before he’ll reach the level of natural talents, and he just wants everyone to be proud of him.

He’s doing everything to make them proud of him. He’s fighting Jabber to make Enjin proud of him. Why did it end up with Enjin mad at him?

When Zanka finally gets to the gym it’s packed with Cleaners he doesn’t really talk to, and two that he does. He prefers to go in the early morning because of this, despite his dedication to his vital instrument, he can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed as he starts going through his drills. It’s stupid, he knows, nobody’s watching him.

The only faces he recognizes are Rudo and Follo, in a corner working on bench presses. Follo’s doing his best to spot a stubborn Rudo who refuses to admit when he needs to tap out. It’s annoying, how Zanka and Follo have to work so hard and follow a specific regiment to get stronger, while Rudo can press 150 lbs out of sheer determination and a diet of exclusively candy.

The way Rudo refuses to fail and simply pushes through reminds him of Hell Guard. If you’re hungry, stop being that way. If you think you can’t do another rep, just do it. If you’re losing the fight, start winning.

He takes an untransformed Lovely Assistaff through several stances, but his stiff cast stops him from properly using her. It seems like any other vital instrument would work with an injury, it’s only Zanka who’s vital instrument needs perfection from its giver to work. Rudo’s vital instrument would work with both his arms broken, and Zanka can’t even handle one cast. It doesn’t even cover his elbow, so he can move his arm that way. It just covers his wrist and stops him from moving his hand fluidly. He’s not a genius, he doesn’t know a work-around to not having a functioning wrist.

His movements become erratic and choppy, he’s frustrated with his unyielding cast. Every time he feels himself mess up another movement, he just gets angrier. He tries to take deep breaths and calm down, but his form isn’t getting any better. He wants a fight, he wants to smash somebody’s face in.

All the other Cleaner witnesses make it so much worse; now they’re going to know exactly what a fraud Zanka is. This is why Zanka prefers to come in during the early hours of the morning.

Zanka tries for the fifth time to do a simple attack on a durable punching bag. His wrist doesn’t bend from inside the cast to snap Lovely Assistaff through the air, and the attack comes out with half the power it should have. Zanka’s chest heaves as he tries to picture what went wrong. The problem must be him. It must be something he can fix. He can’t just blame the cast for his shortcomings. 

A firm hand is set on his shoulder, and spins him around so he can see that it’s Enjin who’s stopping him.

“That’s enough,” He says sternly, “Give her to me.” He outstretches a hand, as if he really expects Zanka to hand over his vital instruments.

“What?” Zanka asks, pulling Lovely Assistaff close. His broken arm aches from the tension he was holding her with.

“Your arm’s broken, you’re done training. You should be in the infirmary anyways.” Zanka’s cheeks burn with shame. All the other Cleaners are watching him get scolded by his team leader, after watching him fail to train properly.

“I have a cast and I can walk,” Zanka argues, “I’m not sitting back and getting weaker just cause I have a little scrape.” He can feel everyone’s eyes on him. Why hadn’t he just done better in the fight with Jabber?

“That’s not a ‘little scrape’ Zanka!” Enjin’s voice rises angrily, “You broke your damn arm! And you are not training.” His eyes betray emotions that Zanka doesn’t know how to read. The only one he learned to interpret from his parents was anger, and he sees it all over Enjin’s face and body language. In the face of his anger, Zanka doesn’t show fear or regret, those were not the emotions that his parents rewarded him for.

“I need to train precisely because I broke my arm,” As Zanka gets angrier his voice gets cooler, his posture stiffer. If he wanted to communicate with his parents when they were mad, he needed to cut all emotion out of his demeanor. It didn’t matter how they were acting, they always expected better from their children. Two out of their three kids were able to live up to this expectation, the one that never managed to get a handle on his emotions was Zanka. Still, he tries his best to stay calm.

Enjin scoffs at him, “That’s ridiculous. You’re going to break another bone-”

“I can train through broken bones, I’ve trained through worse.”

“You don’t need to break your bones to get stronger!” Enjin’s voice grows louder.

“My sister shot at me with bullets ‘til I could dodge them!” Zanka’s voice rises without his knowledge or permission.

“YOU LEFT THE HELL GUARD ZANKA!” Enjin finally starts fully yelling, “YOU’RE A CLEANER!” Zanka blinks back unwelcome emotions. Don’t show weakness.

“You let Rudo train like Hell Guard,” Zanka spits incredulously, he feels his volume rise even more against his will. Across the room Rudo’s eyes go wide, he doesn’t want to be brought into their argument.

Enjin pinches the bridge of his nose and laughs harshly, the sound digs into Zanka, “How the HELL is letting him press up a few weights the same as LETTING YOU PLAY AROUND WITH A BROKEN ARM?”

“Do you even want me to get stronger?” Zanka snarls with an exasperated laugh, throwing his hands up. Enjin takes the opportunity to grab Lovely Assistaff, leaving Zanka staring at his retreating form.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Even the Cleaners that don’t know the two have stopped to watch the yelling match. The way they’re looking at Zanka feels like bugs squirming underneath his skin.

“You’re not training anymore Zanka,” Enjin’s voice is suddenly as quiet as a graveyard, “Not with him, not by yourself.” Zanka’s body refuses to move with his brain’s commands. His mentor really thinks so little of him.

   What Enjin had said is right. Zanka had left the Hell Guard. He left them for the Cleaners in pursuit of strength, and now the Cleaners are holding him back.

Only Jabber can make him stronger.

Zanka spends the rest of the day avoiding talking to the higher ups. He has conversations with Riyo and Eishia. That’s it.

He misses Lovely Assistaff, and he’s pissed Enjin would take her. He needs some way to make the man see that he’s an Average Joe, who has to keep training through injuries. If he sits on the sidelines for every recovery period then he’ll never be able to keep up with all the geniuses.

Jabber would understand his need to train.

Zanka can’t explain why, but he wants to call Jabber to talk about the whole fucking mess. It has nothing to do with their fights though, so he doesn’t even touch his choker. He’s a little scared about Gris having seen him talking on the choker earlier, but he’s sure Gris doesn’t know who he was talking to.

He stays in his dark room and tries to meditate like some dumb course taught years and years ago. Whenever the teacher tried to train young Hell Guards to free their mind, Zanka would close his eyes and think through his fighting moves. Now, he sits in a way that would typically have Lovely Assistaff across his lap and closes his eyes. In his mind, he goes over the steps of his training that he never got through because of Enjin. His hands tightly grip the fabric of his pants as a replacement for Lovely Assistaff. Who even takes somebody’s jinki?

He tells himself to calm down. He went through worse at Hell Guard, and that was without the guarantee it would ever stop. He knows logically that Enjin will give him Lovely Assistaff back just as soon as he can prove he won’t go training and hurting his arm more.

Too bad for him, Zanka thinks spitefully, I’ll train without her while I wait.

Sit-ups, one-armed push-ups, one-armed planks, wall-sits, squats, just plain stretches, Zanka tries to force time to move with his body. Existing in a space without Lovely feels like having an itch underneath a helmet. He can feel it, just beneath the surface, but he can’t scratch.

When he can’t think of anything left to exercise he stares out the window at the black scenery. He doesn’t see anything yet he still wants to go wander around in the piles of trash he knows are lying just beyond the walls.

Eventually he heads to the infirmary to see if Eishia can finish fixing his arm and take the cast off. He tries to convince her he doesn’t feel any pain, but she catches how he flinches when she’s holding his arm. He distracts himself from the pitying glance by thinking about how he’s going to kill Jabber.

When he returns to his room after having Eishia work on his arm he sees Lovely Assistaff waiting for him. He rushes to check her over for any scrapes or scratches, though he knows logically Enjin wouldn’t put a dent in her.

There's no real damage on her. He knows he’s imagining it, but he questions if she had the scratches on her before Enjin took her. He always thought so high of his mentor. What’s wrong with him?

It’s funny, he thinks, I’m never this pressed about checking her after Jabber drops her and me off at headquarters. Some part of him just trusts Jabber to keep her safe. Evidently the same part that decided Enjin can’t be trusted.

Dinner goes over without incident. Enjin doesn’t acknowledge Zanka from a separate table, and Zanka pretends it doesn’t dig into him. He’s gotten good at pretending that, after how his parents acted with him his entire childhood. How has he become such a disappointment at only eighteen?

He tries to swallow his food around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t want the Cleaners to become like the Hell Guard. He wants to get stronger to make them proud, not make them angry. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong.

He heads to sleep early and is ready for bed a whole hour ahead of his normal routine. He spends the time examining Lovely again. Part of him is furious with Enjin that he’d even dare to touch her, part of him is disgusted with himself for how he acted earlier.

After being thoroughly convinced that she’s in no worse condition than before, Zanka sets her aside and gets ready to go to sleep.

He lays in his dark room and lifts his wrist with the cast. Eishia said it should be ready to come off the next day, and after that Enjin can’t stop Zanka from training. He still doesn’t get why Enjin doesn’t want him to get stronger, it would benefit the Cleaners. Zanka makes up his mind to visit Eishia first thing in the morning.

He then examines his choker. It’s tempting to call Jabber for some reason, really tempting. He almost does, but stops at the last moment. He has nothing to really say, no real reason to call. He doesn’t know if Jabber would accept him just wanting to talk; the Raider doesn’t seem to care much for affection. That’s fine with Zanka, as he only expects violence from that relationship too. 

Why’s he fighting so hard to keep a habit that he swears he doesn’t even care about? A habit that he knows logically is wrong, and toxic, and hurting his friendships.

He rolls onto his side and closes his eyes. He’ll think about it in the morning.

Hushed tones echo in the entrance hall of the Cleaner’s Headquarters at twenty ‘til midnight. Enjin and Semiu are listening to Gris begrudgingly share what he learned earlier. He let it slip that he heard something important and Enjin threatened everything he could threaten to get Gris to share the information.

“You’re saying they’ve swapped blood?” Enjin half whispers, half hisses.

“We don’t know that for a fact. It’s just what it looked like in the moment,” Gris tries to defend Zanka. It hurts his heart to see how Zanka and Enjin had been treating each other that day. He knows it’s hurting them too. Everyone on or close to Team Akuta heard about their argument in the gym, but both of them were too stubborn to admit there had even been a disagreement.

“Well we have a way to know for certain,” Enjin turns to Semiu expectantly, who narrows her eyes unhappily.

“Zanka’s a good kid. What’s he gonna say when he finds out I’ve already done one reading on him without his knowledge for you?” She denies Enjin another reading.

“It’s not just for me, I think the Raider’s tricking Zanka to get information about the Cleaners,” Enjin argues, gesturing expressively, “He’s gonna come after the rest of us once he’s through with Zanka.”

Semiu shakes her head, “You’re underestimating Zanka. He cares too much about the Cleaners to let that happen.” Enjin knows that she wouldn’t say that without reasoning, but it doesn’t comfort him because it doesn’t change the fact that Zanka is putting his life in danger every Friday. What’s the point? To grow a little stronger?

“Y’know what? This is bullshit,” Enjin says as he stands up, “I’m not letting Zanka get killed by that Raider because you two want to stick to your moral high ground.” Gris frowns, but lets him go. He’ll try to reason with Enjin after he’s showered and cooled down.

“Don’t let him be too mean to Zanka now, I’m afraid of Zanka finding another well,” Semiu says, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes.

“That’s not funny Semiu.”

“I wasn’t joking Gris.”

The kids have their own meeting at the same time, huddled together in Bro’s room as he tries to get them to settle down.

“Did you guys notice Zanka was acting really cranky today?” Guita asks from atop a pile of pillows on Bro’s bed.

“He broke his arm,” Riyo suggests from where she’s laying on the floor as she spins Reaper around her finger. Though she thinks she already knows the reason, Zanka had shared quite a bit in his conversations with her that day.

“Nah, he seemed more mad than just an injury,” Rudo says with a shake of his head as he gives Dear one of his pretzels. He thinks back to how Zanka laughed in the infirmary after almost getting killed by Jabber, and frowns at how unhappy Zanka seemed to be after one broken arm. Why had he tried to pull Rudo into his argument?

“Guys, gossip is not good,” Bro returns from the bathroom with three toothbrushes for him, Dear, and Guita. Rudo looks happy when he realizes the rest of his pretzels are safe.

“If you hate it so much, why do you agree to have your room as our meeting spot?” Riyo points out, knowing full well it’s because he doesn’t want Dear to be up too late in unmonitored gossip sessions. If Rudo stays up late, then Dear will too.

“Maybe he’s going through a breakup,” Amo proposes, also atop the pile of pillows. Guita puts her hand on her chin and nods seriously at the possibilities.

“One time Jabber was acting super grouchy because somebody he liked fighting stopped fighting him,” Fu puts forth, turning bright red when all the eyes in the room look at him.

“It’s like the breakup thing! That’s all I was saying! That the-” Fu defends his previous statement, awkwardly trying to sink into the shadows of the corner he’s pressed up against.

Bro shakes his head as he gathers the toothbrushes up and heads back to the bathroom. Fu keeps trying to explain.

“Fu, stop talking,” Amo orders and he falls silent, “Amo doesn’t think that’s the same type of breakup, but that’s good proof that a breakup might make somebody act like that. Is Zanka into anybody?” Amo directs the last question at Riyo, which makes her laugh.

“I don’t think Zanka’s much of a lover boy,” She says, though she’s starting to piece together the story.

“I think he’s just upset Enjin won’t let him train,” Rudo mutters as he remembers the scene in the gym earlier. Everyone else takes a moment to consider it.

“Okay now you guys need to actually go to bed. It’s almost midnight,” Bro starts pushing kids out of the room, “Guita, change into actual pajamas. Dear, don’t fall asleep with Centralian in your mouth. Rudo, quit frowning or your face will get stuck like that. Amo, leave Fu alone. Fu, I command you to go to bed or whatever. Riyo… have a good night.” He doesn't have any rules for Riyo, just gives her a warm smile as she turns to leave the room.

“Thanks for being the meeting spot Bro,” She gives him a one armed hug and skips off to go to bed.

Bro sighs against the door and watches the kids all go to their rooms. Aren’t most of them Enjin’s kids, not his? His back hurts as he turns around, he’s too old for this.

This time when Zanka’s yanked back into consciousness by his alarm clock at six in the morning, his blankets feel properly warm and heavy, meaning he’s actually in his room. His blinds are successfully blocking what little sunlight makes it to Ground. His hands are still cold though.

He sits up slowly and twists his arm around a bit, testing out if the bone is recovered yet. He turns his alarm off, gets out of bed, and mumbles a tired greeting to Lovely Assistaff as he picks her up for her morning inspection.

He then gets dressed slowly, changing his shirt first. As he’s pulling on his undershirt for his Cleaner Uniform he goes to pull it under his choker and realizes that there is no choker. His choker’s gone.

He finishes getting dressed without worrying, assuming it fell off as he was sleeping. When finished, he checks his bed and everywhere near it to find the choker, but it’s gone for real.

He frowns sleepily, but healing his arm takes priority. Him and Lovely Assistaff go to visit Eishia. He hopes she’s awake already.

Halfway through his walk he passes by the cafeteria where Enjin is sitting with a large cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette. Enjin’s never up that early. Zanka tries to speed walk past and get to the infirmary.

“Zanka, c’mere,” Enjin calls, noticing the younger man try to escape. Zanka steels himself and turns to march over to Enjin.

“Yeah?” He asks with a tone of nonchalance that he’s rather proud of. Enjin’s not showing any emotions, so he won’t either. He’s not disappointing Enjin again by acting wrong.

“Sit down,” Enjin points at the chair across from him with his cigarette. Zanka slowly complies, watching for an indicator of where this is going.

“Your choker broke. I’m getting you a new one soon,” Is all Enjin has to say to him. Zanka waits for something else. Surely that’s not it? His parents in Hell Guard wouldn’t summon him to them unless they had important things to talk to him about. When did he start comparing Enjin to his parents? 

His mentor takes a drag on his cigarette.

“How did it break?” He quietly wonders out loud.

Enjin sighs in annoyance, “Probably couldn’t handle getting calls from filth like the Raiders.”

Zanka stares, that was very out of character. What happened that made Enjin hate the Raiders so much when he accepted an ex-Raider into his ranks willingly? Oh wait, did he just say-

“So how long have you been calling him?” Enjin inquires with a bite in his voice, “Since before or after he tried to kill you in a trash beast I wonder?” Zanka feels himself flinch.

“How…” Zanka begins nervously, “How do you know that?”

Enjin laughs loudly and it sends shivers down Zanka’s spine, “Well Zanka, when you’re a team leader and you find out one of your members is breaking his arm and calling it regular training, you typically dig for a little more information.” Zanka feels anger start to creep up. That’s not good. He can’t get mad. Enjin’s the parent, Enjin’s allowed to say what he likes, Enjin’s in the right.

“You really went behind the Cleaner’s backs, trained with a Raider of all people, and for what? You seriously didn’t expect us to catch you?” Enjin punctuates his sentence by waving the glowing cigarette around. Zanka digs his fingernails into his palms to stay calm. Geniuses will just never understand how hard Average Joes have to work. Didn’t Enjin say he wants Zanka to beat genius when he rescued him?

“How do you know?” Zanka timidly repeats.

Enjin blows smoke out of his nose, irritated, “Semiu.” Zanka huffs out a tiny breath in indignation, seriously? Did Enjin seriously just shamelessly confess to having Semiu do a read on him? 

When could Semiu even have done a read on him? Was it while he was asleep? Didn’t she have morals?

“Wait,” He whispers, “You didn’t trust me so much you had Semiu check me in my sleep instead of just talking to me?” He tries not to let the hurt bleed into his voice. His hands creep towards Lovely Assistaff on his back and he remembers how Enjin had taken her from him just yesterday.

“What was I supposed to do Zanka?” Enjin questions loudly, his hands gesturing wildly, “You’ve proved you’re not going to be honest with us. You randomly came home with a broken arm and we didn’t know who you were fighting!”

“You’re so fuckin' caught up on the broken arm!” Zanka rubs at his eyes and shouts, “IT’S AN ARM! IT’LL HEAL!” Enjin’s fingers crush the cigarette and it looks like what little restraint he has is withering away.

“I’M CAUGHT UP ON HOW DUMB THE IDEA IS,” He yells back. Dumb? He thinks the idea is dumb? Zanka finally finds something that makes him stronger and he’s calling it dumb.

“DON’T YOU WANT ME TO GET STRONGER?” Zanka demands before he can stop himself.

“FUCKING HELL ZANKA,” Enkin roars, “YOU’RE NOT TRAINING WITH JABBER ANYMORE. YOU’RE NOT MEETING UP WITH JABBER, YOU’RE NOT FIGHTING HIM, AND YOU’RE NOT EVER SEEING HIM EVER AGAIN.” Enjin says the name. Nothing’s in the dark anymore. He knows everything.

Zanka wrinkles his nose in disgust at the words. He plants his hands on the table and stands up aggressively, pushing the chair back a few feet with the ugly screech of metal against tile.

“Fuck the choker,” He mutters as he leaves. He feels like a kid throwing a tantrum by running away, but he’s pissed and doesn’t want to spend another second in Enjin’s vicinity.

Enjin watches him go and snorts as he glares at the floor. He doesn’t care.

Eishia heals his arm once more, “I think it’s pretty much all better now. You can probably go back to fighting trash beasts in a few days.”

“Thank you Eishia,” He mumbles. He holds back his desire to ask when he can start fighting people again. Specifically one person. He’s reserving judgment on whether or not to ask until he knows if he’ll even be able to fight that person again. 

Eishia isn’t even able to make eye contact with him as he leaves. She wasn’t able to make eye contact at all during the visit. Zanka knows she feels guilty for causing his and Enjin’s argument, but it’s not her fault. If the fault belongs to anyone, it’s Zanka.

Zanka shuts the door to his room and sits on the end of his bed, staring at his naked wrist. With no cast to distract him, he can feel the missing weight that he’d gotten used to over the past few years.

It’s obvious what’s happening now, he just doesn’t want to admit it.

Zanka can’t train with Jabber if he stays with the Cleaners, and if he stays with the Cleaners he can’t get stronger like he would with Jabber.

For some reason he can’t figure out, they don’t want him to get stronger. He lost his first home because he wasn’t trying hard enough to be strong, and he’s about to lose his second because he won’t stop trying to get stronger.

He’s pissed that they don’t even trust him enough to let him have the choker. They’re so sure if he has his choker he’ll call Jabber, which honestly is exactly what he wants to do.

An idea starts to form in his mind, but he pushes it away. Committing to that idea would be confirming everything they’ve been thinking. He doesn’t want to let them be right.

But there’s something so damn satisfying about fighting Jabber. Whether or not he’d admit it, a part of him knows he’s come to love meeting up with Jabber once a week to beat the shit out of each other. Whenever Jabber spends just a moment on the ground, Zanka’s ego flies through the roof. He wants to fight Jabber forever and ever.

And there’s the truth. He doesn’t even want to win anymore. Part of him just wants to perpetually fight Jabber. Spend eternity locked in their violent dance.

He ignores his wants, his needs, and seeks out Riyo for a distraction in the form of a conversation.

Night falls and Zanka can’t sleep. He avoided Enjin all day, but still felt judged by other Cleaners. They’re all thinking the same things as Enjin, even if they won’t say it out loud. 

He’s aware that the idea he’s nurturing is an idiotic one, but it sounds so nice to him. He can’t stop going over and over what he’d say, what he’d do, and how it’d pan out.

He waits until his clock says two in the morning and gives up on resisting his urge. He turns off the alarm on the clock for the foreseeable future. He slips into his uniform and out of his room.

Corvus is often not at Cleaner Headquarters, but he never locks his office doors. Still, most Cleaners think he has the ability to know what transpires in his office. If you have to hide something, that’d be a decent spot to do it.

Zanka makes sure to use his lightest steps that he learned from Hell Guard as he goes into Corvus’ office. He quickly scans the shelves and the surface of his desk. He checks the top left drawer, then the bottom left, then the top right, then, finally, the bottom right.

He gets lucky, and in the drawer are three different chokers. Only one looks small enough to be a wrist choker like the type Zanka prefers.

Zanka picks it up and spends one final moment to question what he’s doing before he calls Jabber. Here goes nothing, he thinks.

Jabber answers.

“Zan-zan! I’m so happy to hear from you!” He does indeed sound happy, “But uh, whatcha calling me about? It’s like two AM.” Zanka would never admit it, but just the sound of his voice is enough to lift his spirits.

“We’re fighting. Tonight,” Zanka commands, “Meet me at the garage.”

Jabber chuckles sleepily, “You’re lucky I live close. I’m not even wearing-” Zanka hangs up before hearing where that sentence is going. Honestly though? Everything feels normal again. Zanka’s gonna beat Jabber up and get beat up.

He carefully puts the choker back in the drawer and makes sure there’s no trace he was ever there.

Part of him feels guilty as he watches Cleaner Headquarters disappear into the horizon line. Part of him says ‘Good Riddance’.

He hopes they don’t worry too much. It would be his fault if they do. He’s the one that initiated this night’s fight.

He’s putting in the work for them. He wants to get strong enough to return and say it to their faces.

“I’m going to beat the genius,” Zanka promises the shrinking building, “Then I’ll return.”

In a dilapidated old parking garage dust lazily floats through the warm air, only visible by the light of a purple Raider’s lantern. A young giver watches it drift through the beams of light, before it comes to rest on his metal rings. The coolness of Mankira in her untransformed state seeks his attention, assuming his attention was ever not at least a little on her. He got to the meet up spot first, as always, and now he waits.

When he hears footsteps approach, a grin spreads across his face. There’s only one person besides him who comes to this crumbling ruin, and it’s his dear, dear Zanka.

“Zan-zan!” He calls, hopping off a pile of stones that he had been waiting on, “Sorry about the arm my guy! I didn’t realize they’d care so much.” Zanka rounds the corner, Lovely Assistaff already in hand, and glares at him like usual. Jabber giggles.

“They did care. Way too much. It’s like they don’t even want me to get stronger,” Zanka mutters, absentmindedly fidgeting with his jinki.

“Aww, don’t worry about them, Zanka. I’ll always understand you. You can be yourself around me,” Jabber can’t hide his excitement and Mankira slips out into her smaller form almost immediately.

“Jabber,” Zanka says, raising one hand to tell him to pause, “After this I’m not going back to the Cleaners. Don’t drop me off near HQ. Either leave me here or take me with you.”

Jabber does indeed pause, and cocks his head to the side, “You trying to come home with me? Oh wait- is this a Cleaner plot to take down the Raiders?”

“No, look, I’m not wearing my choker or anything.” Jabber looks, he really isn’t wearing his choker. What is this idiot thinking?

He shrugs, “So I get my own personal Zanka is what I’m hearing?” 

Zanka scowls and transforms Lovely Assistaff, switching into a fighting stance. Jabber’s excitement heightens again, he wipes a little drool away from his mouth thinking about the beautiful violence they’re about to make.

“I’m impressed! I didn’t think you had it in you to switch sides. You know us Raiders fight actual people, right? Not just big dumb trash beasts,” Jabber teases, mirroring Zanka’s fighting stance.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” Is Zanka’s very nonchalant response as he lunges forwards to smack Jabber with Lovely Assistaff. That’s probably true, Jabber thinks, I’ve basically made all of the Cleaners mad at him.

Jabber giggles as he ducks and swipes, “That’s what I love to hear!” Even if Zanka says he hates Jabber with absolute disgust in his voice, the passion is what Jabber will listen to, not the words.

Lovely Assistaff goes for another attack on Jabber’s head, which is all too easy to dodge. He shows his displeasure in the weak charge by throwing a bruising punch into Zanka’s arm, who retaliates by swinging the other end of Lovely Assistaff into Jabber’s side to force him backwards.

Zanka usually doesn’t talk as he fights, a habit he had instilled in him by Hell Guard. He talked lots during their last fight when he got his arm broken, probably why he’s staying so silent today. He’s trying to not get distracted. 

Once when Jabber asked about it, Zanka had told him that talking during sparring wasn’t allowed in the academy, and apologizing to an opponent after beating them was laughed at. When he locked in for a fight, he stayed that way until it was over.

Unfortunately for him, Jabber’s a yapper. He takes Zanka’s silence as a challenge and he just found a way to tease Zanka.

“You sure you can make it in the Raiders, pretty boy? Say, why’dja leave the Cleaners anyways?” Jabber asks, giggling when Zanka’s jaw clenches. He’s gonna get beat up soo good.

“Did you finally realize fighting other humans is more fun?” Lovely Assistaff slams into Jabber’s back with no mercy, just how Jabber likes it.

“Ooh, or did you just realize you can’t stand to be away from me?” Mankira rips the front of Zanka’s shirt, missing his skin by inches.

“Maybe they kicked you out when they realized you were meeting up with a Raider?” That one hits too close to home. Zanka’s grip tightens and he lashes out with his vital instrument angrily at the one person who loves it when Zanka shows his anger, who welcomes the violence.

Lovely Assistaff and Mankira twirl and whirl in a tense battle. The anima in the air mixes to make a purple haze that shrouds them. It blocks out the outside world, until all that’s left is a pair of glowing blue eyes locked onto a pair of glowing pink ones.

Eventually, Jabber lets out Mankira’s true form. The fight lasts for another two, four, eight minutes. Both grin whenever Zanka lands a hit.

For a moment Zanka thinks Jabber’s been knocked down, and he only has time to process disappointment out of all emotions before he feels claws sink into his stomach once more.

He grits his teeth and mutters “Asshole” before falling to a kneel.

Jabber giggles happily. He groans as he stands up and stretches out his body, savoring every little sore spot that will doubtless be worse the next day. 

He double checks that there’s really no choker before scooping Zanka up. A fight between the Cleaners would be really fun, but not at his house. He has too many precious bottles of poisons there, and he doesn’t want to lose them. If he’s gonna instigate a fight, it’d be more fun at Cleaner headquarters. He giggles again as he thinks of wrecking their fancy shmancy building.

Now he even has a hostage! Of course, if he calls Zanka a hostage to his face he’ll be in for another lovely beating (more like a Lovely beating, he thinks as his body shakes with giggles) but there’s surely some way to bait the other Cleaners into a fight when they find out Zanka’s going home with him.

He grabs Lovely Assistaff and holds it much more carefully than he does Zanka. Zanka can recover from anything, he’s sure, but Lovely Assistaff is just wood in her current form. If she breaks Jabber won’t get to fight her anymore, and that’d suck. 

He dances with some difficulty as he heads home, scatting about his new toy. His fabric tail swishes back and forth as he walks, and he gives the impression of a very smug cat with a mouse caught between his teeth.

Back at Cleaner HQ, a choker is buzzing over and over inside a drawer. People are starting to ask where Zanka’s at, but they’re not worried. Not yet.

Chapter Text

Arka Corvus sits on the roof of an old building and watches the sea of pollution for movement. Below him, a few citizens wander through the winding streets and go about their business. He’s done what he came here for, and is preparing to go back to Headquarters.

He calls the Cleaner’s receptionist over his choker and taps his fingers on the building underneath him as he waits. She takes a moment to answer, but Corvus knows the importance of patience.

“Boss,” Semiu’s voice crackles slightly over the choker, “How can I help you?”

“Semiu, hello. How are you?” Corvus insists on greeting her properly.

“Fine, how’re you?” Semiu answers, sounding just a touch more relaxed. Good, Corvus thinks, that’s the point of exchanging pleasantries.

“I’ve heard a rumor or two about Zanka’s adventures with the Raider,” Corvus responds. There’s a silence where Semiu would normally have a fast response. Is she trying to defend him?

Corvus already knew about Zanka sneaking out and returning with wounds because, despite her loyalty to her friends, Corvus expects Eishia to report all injuries to him. He hadn’t been concerned since he assumed Zanka was simply getting extra training in. He wasn’t completely wrong, either. 

If an injury Eishia reported was too severe, he wouldn’t assign that person hard missions. Once, Eishia reported a bad stab in Zanka’s shoulder and Corvus had assigned Zanka missions that he knew were false reports. Zanka would go out with a handful of supporters, look around, find nothing, and return back home no worse for wear. When Corvus heard of Zanka’s broken arm from Eishia two days ago, he called Semiu to change his schedule.

He understands how Zanka thinks. If he’s seen as dead weight for the Cleaners to carry, he’ll take it out on himself in an effort to get stronger. So he creates a way for Zanka to be of use, as the false trash beast sighting missions still have to be completed.

“Zanka has been…” Semiu hesitates, “Sparring with him.” Corvus can hear her struggle to find a verb. What exactly did she see in her reading?

“But he has not been spilling Cleaner secrets. He’s just been training,” Semiu shields Zanka’s honor. Interesting, she thinks he’s mad at Zanka.

“Hm, well please tell him I’d like a meeting later today. I’ll be back at Headquarters around midday,” Corvus requests. Semiu agrees and clicks off the call. Corvus is left sitting with his thoughts.

Zanka has somehow gotten a Raider to willingly and repeatedly meet up with him without killing him. There are many advantages to gain, but many disadvantages to be lost if they are not careful.

Cleaner Headquarters is currently a snoozefest. Semiu is awake as she has to be for work, but she’s comfortably leaning back in her chair with magazines to flip through. If nothing happens in the next twenty minutes she might accidentally get a nap. 

She tried to call Zanka to relay Corvus’ instructions, but he evidently hadn’t woken up yet as he didn’t answer his choker. She noted the bizarre sleeping pattern for him and decided to call again in a few hours. But still, a part of her is preoccupied with his bizarre sleeping deviation after such a big argument with his mentor.

Enjin walks into the room and puts a voice to her thoughts, “Have you seen Zanka yet today? It’s not like him to sleep this late.” Semiu looks at him with a question in her eye.

He sighs, “Yeah yeah, I’m going to apologize. Gris already talked to me about it. I just wanted the kid to know that I care about his health more than his progress. I already think he’s plenty strong.” 

“Where was all this yesterday when you were yelling at him over breakfast?” Semiu asks. Enjin rolls his eyes.

“I don’t want him to die from fighting a Raider, but I can’t just say that to his face, y’know? What would happen to my street cred?”

“Street cred,” Semiu scoffs, “So you resort to yelling?” She flips through her magazine and keeps her eyes trained on the pages, but watches Enjin from her peripheral vision. He looks remorseful for just a second then fixes his face.

“Har har,” Enjin responds, “Have you seen him or not?” Semiu shakes her head, but she wishes she had. She wants Enjin and him to be able to make up.

He walks towards the infirmary, and Semiu goes back to her reading. 

All the worrying about Zanka has spoiled her appetite. She eventually puts her magazine away and reaches for paperwork. Sadly, there’s a generous pile waiting for her.

An hour later, Riyo slaps her hands on Semiu’s desk and leans over it,  “Semiu, have you heard from Zanka?” The motion isn’t aggressive, it’s simply Riyo ridding excess energy. Semiu presumes that she’s looking to train with Zanka to get rid of the excess energy.

“He still not answering his choker?” She asks. She had forgotten herself to call Zanka again about the meeting with Corvus, but it’s still well before midday. If the boss is really returning at noon, and his word is usually reliable, then Semiu has plenty of time to finish her paperwork and find Zanka.

“Yeah, but how do you know that?” Riyo’s expression is curious. Semiu doesn’t want to worry her by admitting that Zanka hadn’t answered either of them this morning, but there doesn’t seem to be a way to avoid saying it. Semiu regrets ever coming to care about all of Enjin’s kids. Bro’s kids are alright, they don’t cause much drama.

“He just didn’t pick up when I called him earlier. If you see him, ask him to come to me please,” She tells Riyo. The redhead nods and walks away, head twisting to try and sniff out a new place her friend could be hiding.

Semiu returns to her forms and files, and another hour passes.

Sure enough, Rudo comes up to her looking nervous, “Semiu, have you seen Zanka? Usually he makes me train 3R with him by now.” Really? A third person?

Semiu accepts that she’s not getting any more paperwork done and stands up, “You’re not the first one to ask. Come on, we’ll find him together.”

Zanka’s room isn’t locked, but that’s not particularly unusual for the Cleaners. Semiu tries to remember if Zanka’s one of the few who often locks his door, but she can’t quite recall. When she pushes inside, she sees Riyo already going through his stuff shamelessly.

“Riyo!” Rudo exclaims when he sees her, “What’re you doing in here?”

Riyo shrugs, “Same as you. I wanna know where he went. Can’t be a multiple day trip because he didn’t take anything with him besides Lovely Assistaff.”

“And because he’s got a mission tomorrow,” Semiu adds on, walking over to see that indeed Zanka hadn’t even taken his hairbrush. His bed’s been made with his usual military quality though.

The three of them lightly comb over Zanka’s room. Riyo and Rudo know Zanka won’t allow this when he returns, so they use it as more of an excuse to look around. He’s secretive about his private items, and they’re all curious. Only Rudo feels a bit bad for snooping.

“Guys c’mon, what if he comes back to us going through his stuff?” He asks while putting back one of Zanka’s cloths for Lovely Assistaff. Riyo just shrugs.

Semiu eventually turns to leave, prompted by the goodness in Rudo’s heart. She wasn’t finding anything telling in his room anyways. Riyo begrudgingly follows.

Enjin catches the three of them leaving Zanka’s room and walking down the hallway, “Hey guys. Has Zanka called any of you? I’m trying to talk to him.” Semiu narrows her eyes, this is getting ridiculous. All four have a reason to talk to Zanka, and he won’t contact any of them.

Riyo shakes her head, “Nope, I don’t know where he went. It’s okay though, he’ll be back soon.” She walks past to sit in a cushy armchair in the entrance room of Headquarters. Follo notices and deals her into a round of Uno.

“How do you know he’ll be back soon?” Enjin slings Umbreaker over one arm and goes to sit next to Gris where he and another supporter are having their own conversation.

“He didn’t take anything from his room with him,” Rudo joins in the conversation, reaching to grab cards from the discard pile to join in the game of Uno. He still doesn’t understand how Uno works and Follo smacks his hand away to properly deal him in. There’s too many different games on the Ground in his opinion, all with too many rules. If he wanted to entertain himself on the Sphere he’d just go raid some landfill and fix up the trash in it.

Enjin snorts at the idea of them going through Zanka’s room, but doesn’t make any comments. He knows if he does, his room might be next.

“Still worried about Zanka?” Gris turns away from his other conversation to look at Enjin, who looks tired, “What’s wrong?”

Enjin rubs his eyes tiredly, “He won’t pick up his dang- ohhh…” His mouth stays open as he stares at Gris' face.

“What’d you do?” Semiu perceives his guilt instantly.

“So,” He claps his hands together and thinks for a moment, “You know how last night I said I wasn’t going to let him get killed by the Raider?”

Semiu and Gris nod, the rest of the people in the room wonder what type of conversation they were having last night.

“I mayhaps, kind of, perchance took his choker and put it in Corvus’ office.”

“Ah, that’s why he’s not answering,” Semiu figures.

“Enjin!” Gris scolds as Riyo and Rudo make similar flabbergasted sounds. Enjin rushes to defend his actions from the previous night.

“How are we supposed to reach him now?” Rudo questions, worried that Zanka might have gotten into some real shit without any way to reach out.

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Riyo dismisses him with a hand wave, “I’m more interested in Enjin taking our chokers! Where’d you put it?”

He grins sheepishly, “I was tired okay? It was like midnight and I had a couple drinks. And I already said I put it in Corvus’ office.”

“Yeah but like where in there?”

“Bottom left desk drawer- wait no right. Wait, no, locking it in, definitely left.” It was the bottom right.

They find Zanka’s choker indeed in Corvus’ office, but no dice on Zanka. By then it’s lunchtime and they decide to stop worrying about it. Zanka didn’t take enough of his stuff to stay out for a while and he just wasn’t answering his choker because he wasn’t wearing it. With that mystery solved, they all decide to resume their business with him later that day.

Semiu calls the boss and tells him Zanka might not be able to do the meeting that day, and Corvus sounds okay with that. She doesn’t know what he’s thinking, he always does a great job staying cool and collected no matter what’s thrown his way.

They forget successfully, and it’s not until Semiu’s brushing her teeth that night that she remembers to question that he never came back to Headquarters. Where did Zanka go?

Jabber had given Zanka more of the good stuff than usual so that he won’t wake up until Jabber was ready. He knows the Cleaners have a giver who can heal them, but Zan-zan’s not going back to the Cleaners anymore.

He places Zanka in his bathtub in the early morning and holds some cloth to his stomach stabbings to stop the bleeding. He’s not a healer, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing.

“Don’t die until I get back, okay?” He leaves Zanka tweaking in his bathroom. Before he leaves, he gives Zanka another dose so he doesn’t wake up and freak out.

He buys what he thinks are proper stitching supplies. A needle, thread, hand sanitizer, and the cheap gauze he usually gets.

When he gets back, Zanka’s shirt is almost completely red with blood and he’s breathing a lot shallower than when he left. Hmm, Jabber thinks, looks like someone needs another dose.

Zanka had fallen and doubtless got polluted dust in his wound, so Jabber disinfects it for him. He carefully dumps hand sanitizer in the wound, giggling at Zanka’s little half screams every time. He’s tempted to cut himself and put hand sanitizer on that as well, but alas, he has to make sure Zanka doesn’t die first. His mans got him acting so domestic!

He takes many tries to get the thread to go through the eye of the needle and ties it with a pretty good knot. He’s pretty sure it’ll stick. Did he mention that healing really isn’t his thing? 

When he finally starts sewing the wound together, and humming while he does, Zanka’s body starts fighting back. Jabber’s then forced to use a paralytic drug he found once from a random plant to stop Zanka from messing up his handiwork. After he finally gets through the first Mankira gash, he groans at the idea of doing three more; the first suture is of much higher caliber than the others. He wraps it all in gauze tighter than normally and declares his time as Nurse Jabber complete.

He steps back and dusts off his hands, not much of Zanka’s blood comes off. 

When he finally admires it, Zanka’s cuts look pretty good. His shirt’s absolutely ruined, as Jabber was too lazy to take it off the dead weight and just tore it open with the holes from Mankira. Lovely Assistaff’s leaning against the wall casually, but Jabber’s pretty sure she’s judging the entire situation. The drug cocktail that’s now swirling through Zanka’s veins is sure to keep him out for at least another twelve hours. Jabber may have been a bit generous on the dosages.

He commits to sitting Zanka up and taking off the ruined and bloody shirt. He in turn takes off his own crop top hoodie and puts it on Zanka, giggling at seeing the Cleaner in Raider garb. He should take a photo.

He leaves to check outside his window and seeing how dark it is, decides to go to sleep. He locks the front door, but he’s pretty sure he’d hear Zanka wake up anyways. While his stitches were very much holding his skin together, he doesn’t know how to avoid making them painful without making Zanka high. Maybe there’s a poison that does that.

Semiu’s first order of business in the morning is to check around Headquarters for Zanka. When she doesn’t find him, she calls up Corvus and reports to him that Zanka’s gone again that day, but something surfaces in her mind.

When Zanka feels like he needs to get stronger, to stop being a disappointment, he goes out to train. Before, Semiu assumed he was training in the woods or wherever emo teenagers go. But, if somehow Jabber had called up Zanka before he had his choker taken, he could’ve heard about the situation. Her previous reading on Zanka had been specifically geared towards finding out who his mystery sparring partner was, not towards whether or not they had late night phone calls. She’s not even sure of their dynamic, she can’t picture Zanka hanging out with the madman that she’s heard tales of.

So assuming Zanka’s choker can call Jabber, which according to Gris it can, and assuming Jabber heard about the status change when the Cleaners found out about him, which was another very real possibility, wouldn’t Jabber want to keep Zanka meeting up with him?

The Cleaners are planning to stop exactly that and would therefore be an obstacle for the Raider. Semiu’s never met him but he sounds like he’s got a few screws loose. 

But would he kidnap Zanka?

She knows she’s getting ahead of herself. She considers multiple other reasons for why Zanka’s not at Headquarters, but she keeps wondering about that one. Obviously Jabber’s manipulating him into meeting up for fights, so could he manipulate Zanka into coming with him to their meetup spot? Or maybe he had threatened Zanka with his vital instrument. Semiu has heard it has the ability to make people go limp, some type of drug.

She debates it for an hour or two, then gathers the adults for a meeting, bearing in mind specifically the ones that know Zanka best. Two supporters plus Gris, Bro, and Enjin wait for her in the entrance hall. They’re all responsible adults above age twenty, and she feels confident asking them for information on how Zanka would react to a situation as such.

She lays it out for them, “Zanka hasn’t been home for two days. Last we’ve seen he was upset that nobody was acknowledging his attempts to grow stronger.” She directs her last comment at Enjin.

“If the Raider really was able to communicate with him via choker, there’s no reason that the Raider might not have threatened him to show up for a meeting and then stopped him from returning. If Zanka was truly upset with us Cleaners, he wouldn’t have resisted too hard as he’s become buddy-buddy with the Raider in question.” The men’s expressions morph to shock and disbelief.

“Zanka’s not an idiot,” Bro disagrees, “He’d see what the Raider was doing.”

“He might’ve been blinded by his desire to get better,” One of the supporters suggests. Semiu notes Enjin’s displeasure at this statement.

“Yeah but there’s plenty of ways to train without meeting up with a Raider.”

“Yes, and Semiu said they met up every Friday. Yesterday was a Monday. His arm would’ve still been too messed up to go to a fight.”

“Eishia healed his arm, and she can fix it better than it was before in two whole days. He definitely could’ve had a fight.”

A few more minutes pass with them arguing over whether or not the idea is even plausible. Semiu knows it’s getting them nowhere, but she’s gotten them to consider it.

Semiu claps her hands to get their attention, “There’s still four hours until noon. If we leave now we can check their meetup spot and still have time for missions in the afternoon.”

Enjin drives the jeep, his skills as sharp as ever. Next to him, Gris is strapping on a second seatbelt. Huh, Enjin thinks, did he have that installed despite my amazing driving?

In the backseat are the two supporters and Riyo. When she heard about what they were doing she decided to come too. Semiu had paperwork and Bro had kids, so there was an empty spot that she could take up in the car. Still, Enjin has a feeling she’d just go in the trunk if they denied her a seat.

They’re headed to the parking garage that Semiu saw when she read Zanka. She says it’s their meeting place, and might have some clues as to what in the world happened to Zanka. She also says that there would be a lot more clues if Zanka has his choker.

Enjin sighs, and drives over a pothole.

Zanka wouldn’t stop training with Lovely Assistaff in the gym, so in the heat of the moment Enjin had taken her. If he hadn’t, he didn’t doubt that Zanka would continue training until all Eishia’s hard work was destroyed. But that doesn’t change the fact that his approach was flawed, something Gris pointed out.

Then, Zanka seemed to be determined to keep meeting up with the homicidal maniac that won two previous fights with him, probably more according to Semiu and Eishia. Enjin didn’t want Zanka to die, and so he took away his communication device with the Raider. He didn’t expect Zanka to disappear anyways.

If it weren’t for him taking both of those things away from Zanka, there might be a chance that Zanka wouldn’t have agreed to go with Jabber when getting threatened. Or maybe he’d be reachable now. 

Semiu said that her theory was just a possibility and anything could’ve happened, but the more Enjin considers it the more he becomes sure the Raiders kidnapped Zanka. And he, Enjin, might’ve been part of the reason for that. If he had just kept calm when he found out, Zanka might be at Headquarters right now.

Enjin remembers their last conversation, argument really, and sighs again as he drives over another pothole. Whoever is paving these roads really sucks.

He wishes he could just go back and change everything. When did the kid start feeling like he needed to train with a Raider to get stronger?

They arrive at the parking garage.

Unconsciousness slowly seeps out of his body like maple syrup oozing out of a bottle. The drugs eventually leave his system after over twenty-four hours of tripping balls. His eyes flutter open and he groans, everything hurts.

Zanka painfully sits up to find himself in a random bathtub. The plastic floor beneath him is red with blood, his blood. Lovely Assistaff is leaning against a wall in the corner. He reaches for her and sees that his shirt sleeve is different, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

His head hurts too much to think properly. His throat feels dry and gross, when was the last time he drank water? Why’s he in a bathtub? Whose bathtub is he in? He feels cold and clammy, and notes that he’s sweating despite all that.

He pushes off the bathtub’s edge to stand up and immediately gets hit with a wave of dizziness. 

He tries to recall what diseases could be causing this that he learned of in Hell Guard. His brain helpfully suggests cancer. He clings to the side of the sink so as to not fall over.

He reaches for the door handle and is careful to open it without putting all his weight on it to avoid falling over when it opens. His stomach feels like it got stabbed four separate times. The edges of the wound sting and he can feel it all. Does whoever brought him here not have any ibuprofen?

The door opens silently, thank fuck, and Zanka sees a very familar silhouette at the window. That goddamn Raider. Zanka’s instincts kick in and he activates Lovely Assistaff, ignoring his screaming midsection as he lunges forwards to try and kill Jabber.

His noisy approach gives Jabber plenty of time to turn around and dodge. Mankira slips out in her smaller form and a grin stretches across his face.

“Zanka! My man! You already want round two?” He sounds way too fucking happy. Lovely Assistaff gets dodged by Jabber, and she swings through the air again to try and hit his side. He’s now giggling, dodging without even parrying.

Zanka can feel himself getting tired way too fast. His feet start stumbling and his attacks come out slower. He has no power behind his offense. He still feels a little high.

Jabber notices, and doesn’t even bother fighting back with Mankira. He holds off Lovely Assistaff with one hand and pushes Zanka down to the ground with the other.

“Dude,” He makes a face, “What’s wrong with you? You’re boring right now.”

The wind’s been knocked out of Zanka. He lies on the dirty floor and admires the ceiling. It’s got the popcorn texture that he likes. Hell Guard never had fun ceilings.

Jabber leans over and blocks out said ceiling, “Helloooo? Zanka? Get up.” He’s fully frowning now, and directing his attention back to the window. That fact kills Zanka. He’s not even enough for Jabber anymore.

And then it all rushes back to him, the reason that he’s in Jabber’s apartment. He left the Cleaners and swore not to go back until he could beat Jabber. Suddenly the pain in his stomach doesn’t feel so bad, replaced by a pain in his heart.

Jabber’s humming as he stares out the window, but his posture is displeased. Even on his worst days, Zanka never goes down that easily. He grimaces as he tries and fails to get up. He’s so weak right now.

Zanka waits a few minutes and tries to hold back any weak noises that attempt to escape him when he breathes. His body hurts.

Eventually he forces himself up with his elbows underneath him. Jabber makes a noise of acknowledgement, but doesn’t turn away from the window. Zanka accepts and compartmentalizes this failure. It won’t happen again.

He reaches for Lovely Assistaff a few feet away from him and hisses when he tries to move too fast, and tries to stretch too far. Jabber finally looks back with a let down expression.

“I took such good care of you after our little spar, how’re you gonna be complaining that much? And not even putting up a fight after coming at me,” He challenges Zanka, trying to incite another scuffle.

“Your fault. Feels like you put every drug you have in me,” Zanka shoots back, unhappy despite being the one that came to Jabber and took himself away from Eishia’s care. He hasn’t had to deal with pain lingering after a fight since Hell Guard. But still, this could rival some of the worst pain he felt at Hell Guard. Maybe not getting shot at, but it’s up there. He just needs to get used to it and he’ll be fine.

“Not true! I kept you sedated but that was just ‘cause I gave you stitches.”

Zanka frowns at this, incredulous, “You gave me stitches? You know how to give stitches?”

“Yep, cleaned the wound and everything,” Jabber nods. Zanka remembers his cheap, thin gauze and somehow doubts Jabber properly rinsed out the wound and sterilized all the tools.

“With what?”

Jabber makes a face as he thinks, “I don’t know man. Hand sanitizer?” Zanka stares. That’s all he can do. Stare.

“Hand sanitizer,” He repeats, wishing he could move fast enough to hit Jabber, “Is that why I feel like this?”

“It kills ninety-nine point nine percent of the germs dude!” Jabber crosses his arms, “If you get an infection that’d actually be soo boring.” The word boring digs into Zanka worse than Mankira ever could. He uses Lovely Assistaff to stand up all the way and blocks out all of the pain, breathing shallow but still breathing. He’s not boring.

“...Thanks,” He mutters. It was nice of Jabber to bandage him up at any rate. 

Jabber inspects him with narrow eyes, then turns back to the window.

“Yep. Sorry about your shirt,” He doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest.

Oh yeah, Zanka forgot his shirt was different. He looks down to see, of all things, the Raider’s very own hoodie on him.

“What the fuck?” Zanka seethes through gritted teeth. He’s going to kill the damn Raider. Dressing him up in the purple quilted pattern is too far. Jabber might as well schedule him an interview with Zodyl.

The culprit doesn’t respond, tapping his chin with Mankira as he looks out the window. Zanka notes that even though he’s careful not to break skin, he doesn’t seem willing to put her away.

Zanka follows his gaze and notices their parking garage across the street, “You live right next to it?” He can’t keep the shock out of his voice. He’s never pictured Jabber’s house, but he wouldn’t have imagined one in a town, even a ghost town. He would’ve assumed Jabber just lived in a No Man’s Land, probably didn’t even wear a mask. Chances are he enjoys feeling like knives are stabbing his lungs from the polluted air.

He’s a little pleased Jabber chose a spot near his house to be their meet up spot.

“Yeah. Plenty of people live here,” Jabber says with an absent mind. He’s very interested in the parking garage, but Zanka doesn’t see why.

So other people live in the ruins of the city. Or rather, it’s an actual city that just looks like ruins. There are really inhabitants of these crumbling buildings? Back in the Kamuatari District even the poorest people could afford a nice house, not a dilapidated pile of stones that looked like a trash beast sat on it.

Jabber notices Zanka looking around and snickers, “Guess this isn’t fancy enough for you? Wanna leave for the Cleaners already?” Zanka shakes his head quickly, but doesn’t respond.

“Really? Cause now’s the perfect chance. They’re right there,” Jabber points down to the parking garage he’s so intently watching. Zanka looks and notices feet walking around just barely in his view, the roof of the building cuts off the legs above the knees.

He leans closer to the window. The shoes are Riyo’s. She’s at his and Jabber’s meetup spot.

He ducks down out of sight from the window, “What the hell are they doing here?”

“I don’t know man, I bet it’s your fault. They’re your people,” Jabber sounds unbothered. He really doesn’t care that Cleaners are right across the street. Well, there is a Cleaner in his house but that’s different.

Speaking of, Zanka asks, “Why’d you take me home with you?”

Jabber shrugs, “You said to either leave you there or take you with me.”

“But why didn’t you leave me there?” Zanka presses further.

“You were weak. Bleeding out and shit. Probably would’ve died,” Jabber watches another pair of feet come into view. Zanka tries to ignore the comment, he had lost the fight after all.

They watch the feet shuffle out of view again. Despite Zanka’s obvious weaknesses, Jabber doesn’t force him to lay back down. Zanka likes that, he’s not getting underestimated.

“Zanka I totally trust you and all after all those times you tried to kill me, but this isn’t a Cleaner attack on me is it? Cause Zodyl would not be happy at that,” Jabber finally says. Zanka’s surprised to hear the tone of nervousness. He wouldn’t have thought Jabber to be capable of worrying like that.

“No this is…” He trails off before an idea comes to him, “Oh shit there’s no way.” Jabber glances at him out of the corner of his eyes but doesn’t say anything. He waits for Zanka to either tell him or not tell him.

Zanka grips the window sill and his knuckles turn white with exertion, “I bet Semiu fuckin’ read me to get this info. Her vital instrument lets her look into people’s minds.” His stomach’s stab wounds hurt with the effort of grabbing the window sill, but he grits his teeth and continues. He wants to take his anger out on something, and doesn’t feel like biting his lip bloody in front of another person.

Jabber nods slowly, “Like Momoa.” He continues watching the boots wander around in the garage.

Zanka knows it’s the only plausible explanation, but he doesn’t want it to be true. Semiu really didn’t trust him enough to ask anything? Apparently she just had to go and take all the info from his mind while he was unconscious without a say in any of it.

It pisses him off.

“Hey y’know the guy you said was mad mad at you?” Jabber breaks him out of his train of thought.

“Yeah, Enjin.”

“That him?” Jabber points to the garage once more, to a tall blonde man investigating a pile of rocks with blood on it. Actually, a lot of the rocks in that garage have blood on them after being Zanka and Jabber’s fighting spot.

Zanka stands up again to look and nods slowly, but can’t talk. His throat feels like it’s closing up. Enjin’s here to find him and bring him back. There’s a lot of reasons he could be in trouble right now, he doesn’t even want to know what Enjin’s thinking, coming to his and Jabber’s fight spot.

The feeling of being a petulant child throwing a tantrum returns from yesterday. He got upset at Enjin and ran off to another kid who’d promote his negative tendencies. But it’s necessary, he needs to get stronger.

“Dude calm down, he can’t see us,” Jabber stops Zanka from having a breakdown. Zanka scowls.

That’d probably also be boring in his opinion. He’s really not interested in anything but violence, Zanka thinks.

Zanka calms his breathing and focuses on keeping it that way. At least the Cleaners are distracting him from the pain in his stomach. He could ask Jabber for another dose to take the pain away, but he’s not trying to tweak out right now and besides, he deserves the pain for losing the fight.

Eventually the Cleaners go back out of sight. Riyo lags behind and places a note underneath one of the bloodied rocks in a very visible spot. Zanka wonders if it’s meant for him, feeling a bit touched at the sentiment.

He starts to walk towards the door to go to the parking garage, but Jabber grabs the back of the hood that he’s wearing now. He makes a mental note to search for his old shirt.

“Oi hold up. I don’t think they’re leaving. I think they’re just not searching that part of the garage anymore.”

Zanka sighs and heads back to the window to continue watching. How does Jabber not have better things to do? Zanka watching the Cleaners is okay because he is a Cleaner, but Jabber’s basically stalking them. Although Zanka expects that creepy behavior from him.

Zanka recognizes the jeep as it pulls through the road, kicking up dust behind it. He also recognizes the driving as Enjin’s, and is glad to be rid of that for a bit.

Him and Jabber head down to the parking garage. He lags a bit behind Jabber the whole time despite doing his best to push through the pain. Lovely Assistaff’s become a walking stick. Jabber seems genuinely annoyed at his speed, or lack thereof.

Zanka hasn’t ever been in the parking garage during the day before, and he finds it hard to believe how much he missed. There’s graffiti everywhere and people are visible only a few blocks away. At night it’s hard to see anything that isn’t lit by the Raider’s lantern or Zanka’s flashlight. Since the lights of the parking garage are always out, Zanka had taken it to be evidence that the place was abandoned, but maybe Jabber just didn’t want to alert the neighbors as to his weekly routine. Zanka has a hard time imagining Jabber as a caring and considerate neighbor though.

Jabber isn’t disoriented by the walk, or maybe Zanka’s just dizzy from blood loss, and he finds the rock Riyo put the paper underneath almost immediately. Zanka wouldn’t have even known which floor she was on, he had neglected to look back in the apartment.

Jabber crouches and reads it, giggling as he finishes the note. Zanka tries to snatch it, but he’s in such a weakened state that Jabber easily fends him off.

“Dear Jabber,” He recites with a false girly voice. Zanka really wishes he could beat the shit out of him, it’s not even close to what Riyo sounds like. He continues to grab at the paper and Jabber continues to dance away while reading, and adding on some too.

“We know you took our dear Zanky-wanky. If you don’t give him back by Friday- what day is it today man? Give me like a number, not a day of the week. Anyways, if you don’t give him back by Friday we will find you and blow you to smithereens! Oooh Zan-zan do you think they’ll really fight me?” 

Jabber looks way too excited. Zanka takes a swing at him with Lovely Assistaff but even he knows that he’s not really trying.

“Let me read the damn note,” He demands, holding a hand out and giving Jabber a death glare.

Jabber giggles, “You’re really earning the ‘Mr. Bad Attitude’ title, you know that?” He hands Zanka the note and dances on back over to the rock to see if Riyo left him any other surprises. He looks ecstatic about the idea of fighting her. It irritates Zanka.

Zanka wouldn’t admit it but he actually did a pretty good job summarizing the note. Riyo assumes Zanka’s been kidnapped and threatens to go after Jabber if Zanka doesn’t return soon. She’s probably planning to ask the information broker for Jabber’s location in case of a fight. Zanka wonders if the information broker does indeed know where they are at the moment.

He doesn’t really know what he expected Riyo to think but it wasn’t this. Thinking Zanka was so weak as to get kidnapped without even showing signs of a struggle. It just proves why Zanka needs to be here. He needs to get stronger.

“Sooo,” Jabber peeks over Zanka’s shoulder. Zanker swats him away and shudders. He’s way too good at sneaking up.

“Shall I wrap you up with a bow and send you back to the Cleaners?” Jabber jokes, then his grin widens into something nasty, “Or should I tell them how you’re the one that came to me?”

“Do whatever you want,” Zanka mutters, mad at generally everything.

Jabber giggles at his angry expression, “Your stomach feeling better?”

Zanka scoffs, “With your stitches? Hell no.” He knows what Jabber’s doing. He lets himself get baited.

“Aw Mr. Bad Attitude, cheer up!” Jabber lets Mankira out, “It coulda hurt a lot worse!”

Zanka activates Lovely Assistaff, “Let’s see how you like your stitches after I’ve cut you open.”

His anger pushes him to attack Jabber with every ounce of dying strength he has. He parries and parries, but isn’t able to get any real attacks in. 

When he and Jabber are face to face for a long second, he rams his head forwards into Jabber’s. Jabber stumbles back, clutching at his head, and looks up with a grin. Zanka notes blood dripping down Jabber’s face, and feels a little dripping down his.

His head hurts, his stomach hurts, his throat hurts, and he’s gonna make Jabber hurt. His swings get more wild and desperate, but the switch up in style is enough to surprise Jabber for him to go on the offense again.

Or maybe Jabber’s holding back.

Zanka furiously arcs Lovely Assistaff through the air to try and hit him in the neck, ideally breaking his neck. Jabber smiles as he watches her come, and Zanka notes with displeasure that it’s a soft, sweet smile. The dumbass is really loving this.

Jabber gets knocked down for a second by the attack before getting up and twisting his neck to pop it.

Zanka thinks he broke a stitch, one hand grabs at his side and the other desperately holds Lovely Assistaff to keep him upright. He sees Jabber frown at him just standing there, before reaching out and lightly scraping the side of Zanka’s neck. 

And Zanka’s high as a kite. Again.

Zanka fades into consciousness faster this time; it takes just a few hours. As opposed to last time, he only got a small dosage.

He’s in the damn bathtub again.

He pulls up Jabber’s Raider shirt to check on his stitches. One wound looks bloody, but it’s sewn up alright. Zanka prays to whatever’s in the sky that he didn’t use hand sanitizer this time, but for his sanity he decides not to ask.

He feels a lot less disoriented than last time, and is able to stand up and hobble out of the bathroom faster. Jabber still hasn’t given him any ibuprofen and the stabs hurt like hell.

“I need a real doctor at some point,” He calls into the main room as he walks in. Jabber’s sitting at a desk with lots of beakers, vials, and bottles of random shit. There’s a pile of plants on one side and a whole bunch of notebooks on the other.

Jabber turns around and watches Zanka, without smiling. It unnerves Zanka.

“You barely put up a fight, twice. Mankira didn’t even really get to come out,” He says, not even baiting Zanka into anything. Just complaining.

Zanka glares at the ceiling and takes a breath, “I’m so sorry to have disappointed you.”

“You should be. You can’t stay here if you’re just going to be boring,” Jabber turns back around to his work after saying the most annoying shit he could to Zanka. There’s that damn word again. Boring.

“That’s fine with me. You think I like staying with a fuckin’ Raider? I’m getting stronger for me and the Cleaners, not for your masochistic ass that gets off on fighting.”

“So leave,” Jabber doesn’t seem to care in the slightest, “I’m not your mommy. I don’t care where you go to ‘get stronger’.” Zanka pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to deescalate the situation.

“As great as your stitches are, I need a real doctor,” He finally gets out, holding back any insults for the sake of being productive.

“Awww, you poor baby. So sorry Nurse Jabber didn’t do it for you,” Jabber says, examining one of his several vials. 

Nurse Jabber? Zanka can’t help himself. It’s too absurd. He snorts at the idea of a sweet Jabber in Eishia’s nurse uniform. Somehow the image doesn’t seem quite right.

Jabber turns back to him with raised eyebrows, “Yo, whatcha laughing about? I wanna laugh too.”

“Nurse Jabber?” Zanka questions while stifling another laugh.

“Only for you Zan-zan. So long as you stay interesting,” Jabber says, returning to his poisons. Zanka sighs but walks over. He plans on staying interesting all right.

“What are you working on?” 

Jabber smirks, “Want some?” He holds out a vial to Zanka, who turns up his nose at the offer.

“Suit yourself,” Jabber says with a shrug, before downing the bottle. Zanka raises his eyebrows, half expecting Jabber to fall over after drinking it. Unfortunately, the Raider’s fine.

“Okay so, what’s going on with you Cleaners?” Jabber puts the vial down and faces him. His eyes are too piercing, too smart. The genius is gonna find too much information that Zanka would rather keep hidden.

Zanka leans himself and Lovely Assistaff against the table and sighs before talking, “You already know they found out about the broken arm. You don’t know how pissed they were about it though. This poisonous?"

Jabber had handed him a suspicious looking flower, “Sure I do. You already said your boss was mad mad. And yeah that gives you a nice rash.” Zanka glares at him until he finds a pair of tweezers so the snobby little rich boy can avoid itching all day.

“No but seriously. I say pissed because I mean pissed. Enjin practically fought me about training,” Zanka plucks the leaves that Jabber gestures for and gives them to him. 

He doesn’t mention that Enjin took his stick, it feels too intimate. He doesn’t even want to think about that at the moment.

“They didn't want you to train?” Jabber’s surprised. He takes the leaves with his bare hands and Zanka’s tempted to find gloves for him. Not that he cares about the enemy, just that if Jabber complains about the itch it’ll annoy him. And there’s a chance that he might scratch Mankira with his nails if he’s not careful.

“Yeah, it was so fuckin’ weird,” Zanka responds, “They got mad that I wanted to get stronger.” He shakes his head and rips off the next leaf a little harshly.

“Why are these leaves still attached to the plant stem? Why didn’t you just grab the leaves?”

Jabber thinks for a second, trying to remember, “I was kinda in the middle of a fight when I grabbed it, so I didn’t have time to grab just the leaves.” Zanka rolls his eyes, of course the genius can be in the middle of a fight and still not lock in all the way.

“Anyways they didn’t let me train. I came here ‘cause I knew you’d get it,” Zanka regrets his words immediately. They sound… a lot sweeter than he meant them to be. Jabber glances over, noticing it too.

He lets out a breath of air through his nose, “Yeah. I get it.” 

They work in silence for a few more minutes. Jabber hands Zanka different plants and assigns him different tasks with them. Sometimes he makes Zanka hold the plant before tearing it up so he can draw it for his records, though he could easily draw with the plant resting on the table like he doubtless did before Zanka was with him.

But Zanka likes having little tasks to do.

Jabber asks a couple of questions whenever Zanka starts thinking too deeply about the past couple of days. He learns that Enjin told Zanka his choker broke, but loudly doubts it. Zanka tries not to dwell on what could be the real reason his choker was taken. It did seem to call Jabber fine despite being broken.

Jabber hums while he works, and Zanka recognizes the tune as the one he sang while emoting after winning the fight in the trash beast mixed in with other motifs. 

Jabber likes to sing random shit after most of their meet-ups, and while Zanka doesn’t remember most of what happens when he’s high, he can recall the melodies somehow.

It makes sense in his mind that Jabber’s still humming as he works. He’s so full of life and light, he wouldn’t just work at his desk silently.

Zanka would normally get annoyed with somebody for making so much obnoxious noise, but he likes trying to guess which tune Jabber’s humming. He relates one to their tussle the night Jabber broke his arm.

After they’ve worked through a chunk of plants from Jabber’s pile, he doesn’t give Zanka any more and declares it ‘testing time’. 

“No point having the poison if you don’t know what it’s gonna do. Although I’m pretty sure this one is just a variant of a plant I’ve used before,” He flips through the notebook to settle on a page of a purple flower that looks a bit like one Zanka was holding a minute ago.

“It’s so hard to find new poisons,” He grumbles as Zanka leans over to take a better look at the drawing. Zanka hates to admit it, but it’s a pretty good sketch. Stupid geniuses and their natural talent.

“You already know that the poisons are related?”

“Yeah, there’s not too many to memorize.”

“Do you have every single one of these memorized?” Zanka asks as he looks at the pile of Jabber’s notebooks.

“Yeah, but it looks like more than it is because of all the repeats. More often than not I try a new plant just to find it’s another plant with a slight mutation making it look different,” Jabber heaves a heavy breath. Zanka notices how disappointed he looks.

Without thinking, he starts talking, “Hell Guard has a lot of poisons. They made a big deal about having poisons nobody else had.”

Jabber’s eyes light up, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You’re going to betray your family by giving me the heirloom recipes passed down through generation after generation of Nijiku children? Careful Zan-zan~, I might start thinking you like me.”

Zanka rolls his eyes, “It was just a thought. Don’t get all excited. I don’t have the recipes on me, nor a choker to call and ask. I’ve literally been disinherited.” Jabber’s not really listening though.

“Y’knoow,” He begins with a grin spreading across his face.

“I already know I don’t like where this is going,” Zanka gripes with an eye roll.

“Chill Bad Attitude, it’s not that bad. Okay it’s kinda bad actually.” Zanka arches an eyebrow.

“You need a choker and I need some new poisons. Y’know a place where we can get both of those? For free? Especially when we’ve got an insider who knows the security!” Jabber looks enthused with his brilliance. Zanka can feel his face deadpan.

“I am not breaking into Hell Guard with a Raider of all people.”

“You’ll come around,” Jabber says, sounding absolutely positive.

“Why don’t you go get high testing your poisons?” Zanka changes the subject as he leans back against the table and tilts his head back. He considers the idea, really thinks about it. There's no way in hell that they could break in without getting caught. But he could use a choker for contacting… just Jabber now. Damn. His current list of contacts is depressingly short.

“Nah, I’m not testing now,” Jabbar grabs another notebook and flips it open, “I wanna lock in on how to break into Hell Guard. Hey, do you think you could draw me a map?”

Zanka acts annoyed but is happy to be useful in a way not everyone could be, unlike holding up a scraggly little ground plant. He replicates the countless maps of the Kamuatari District from when he was younger, and labels it. Just for the sake of seeing if he still remembers. He’s not genuinely considering breaking into it with a Raider.

Jabber ties his hair up to examine the map. Zanka questions how that qualifies but handling poisonous plants doesn’t. When Jabber’s hair’s in a bun, Zanka can properly see the bruise he left on Jabber’s neck.

Despite being injured and a little loopy earlier that day when he gave Jabber the bruise, he really has left a nice mark. While Jabber babbles on about entrance and escape routes, Zanka slowly reaches out to touch the bruise, before stopping himself inches away and pulling the hand back.

If Jabber notices, he doesn’t show it. He thinks out loud about the guard changes that Zanka labeled and which rooms are most likely to have extra chokers being stored in them as Zanka’s marked a few different storage rooms in the main building.

Zanka watches his neck move as he talks. The skin is dark red, and likely painful. His hand reaches out again.

His fingers lightly graze the side of the neck, and he feels Jabber freeze beneath his touch. He draws his hand back again, cringing internally at the stupid touch.

For a second, they both wait.

“You can touch it,” Jabber murmurs, “So long as you’re not all gentle and mushy about it.” Zanka doesn’t know why Jabber says it. He would’ve figured Jabber would mock him or push him away. He doesn’t understand the other man at all.

Still, his hand reaches out again. This time, he pushes definitively against the colorful skin. He’s sure it hurts. Jabber doesn’t move, he stops gesturing to the map and talking about how to break in.

Zanka mutters, “How’re you gonna break in again?” His voice comes out lower than he meant it to, but he’s just trying to get Jabber to say something. He can feel the pulse in the neck, the heart beating steadily. Jabber starts talking again about how he’d get in if it were him, but his words come out slower. 

Zanka likes the way his words pause for a millisecond when he prods the bruise. Zanka smirks at the irregular breaths when he pushes in with all his strength.

After a few moments, he takes his hand back a final time and mutters out, “Idiot.” He crosses his arms and laments his lack of creativity.

Jabber’s about to say something when his choker crackles with a request from manhole cover lady.

Jabber looks at him with something he can’t recognize, and says, “Gotta go, Zan-zan. Don’t miss me too much.”

Zanka snorts, “As if.”

Chapter Text

For the first time since Zanka left for the fight, he’s alone. He’s finally able to sink down into the warm chair Jabber left behind, bury his face in his arms on the table, and let the guilt wash over him.

Riyo’s note kinda seems like she’s worried, which is sweet and everything to Zanka but that’s because he knows he’s fine. She’s probably having an awful time. He wants a way to reach out to Riyo to let her know he’s doing just dandy, but he doesn’t feel like talking to the rest of the Cleaners that were doubting his abilities. It’d sure be nice if he had his choker.

And there’s no way in hell Jabber actually wants to break into the Kamuatari District. The idea is actually so atrocious that Zanka can’t even genuinely consider it.

He doesn’t mind Jabber getting kidnapped and tortured, obviously, but then he’d be out of a sparring partner. Also, he doesn’t know if Jabber has a landlord or someone who’d check in on the apartment and demand money. The building Jabber’s in gives Zanka abandoned vibes, and yet there’s electricity and plumbing. He tries not to think on it too much.

Jabber’s left all the lights on, in every room, so either he’s got memory problems or he’s not worried about an electricity bill. Zanka wouldn’t be surprised if he just forgot though.

Zanka looks up at the ceiling again. The popcorn pattern is really nothing special, but it just shows the difference between Jabber and Hell Guard so well. Why does a guy like Jabber even want to break into a stale, stagnant place like that?

Zanka gives up on trying to understand him and turns towards Jabber’s notebooks. He flips open the one Jabber used to write down information on the plants. Not a single part of him feels guilty for going through Jabber’s stuff.

The plant notebook is filled with pages and pages of different types of plants. Each one gets its own page and drawing. The rest of the page is used for whatever Jabber feels like writing in. Where he found it, what its color is, what variants it might have, what its effects are when Jabber inevitably ingests it despite all common sense.

Zanka admires the drawings for a while. At first he flips through every page, but when he realizes the amount of pages and notebooks he starts skimming them. He looks at the drawing and effects (which are always circled in a bright color) and moves on. A few that look interesting are ‘Orange Spikey Weed’ and ‘Flower with the Spicy Stem’. In lieu of learning the proper names, Jabber gives them his own.

A blue mushroom catches his attention. Jabber’s written in ‘special enough it got to go to the vendor’. Zanka wonders why the average looking mushroom got special attention instead of Jabber’s suspicious home lab.

When he finishes looking through the notebook he reaches for the one Jabber had him draw the map in. It only has maps in it, with Zanka’s drawing being the most recent. Spread out across the first two pages is a map of the Ground. The official six No Man’s Lands are on the map, but other potential No Man’s Lands are labeled. Zanka’s slightly curious what Jabber did to know that they’re No Man’s Lands, but he also thinks he’ll not ask for his conscience.

He eventually looks through almost all the notebooks, noticing a pattern he wouldn’t have expected. Every notebook with a green cover, though the shades differ, is a catalogue of plants. The two yellow notebooks both have maps in them, a lot of the ones in the second notebook are improved versions of those in the first notebook. The purple notebook is the most organized one on the inside, with just lines and lines of information for what looks like Raider missions. Zanka doesn’t bother looking into it too much.

The red notebooks have different venoms from animals, but Jabber’s labeled how many he’s actually tested himself. There’s not a surplus of animals on the Ground, even Jabber has difficulty finding scorpions and shit whenever he likes. One of the red notebooks has the word ‘books’ written on the cover and doesn’t have any self-tested data in it. Must be that all the information in that notebook is from different texts that Jabber has read. Evidently, it’s just his hobby to look into all the ways a human could die.

What really interests him is the blue notebook. It’s an inventory of all vital instruments Jabber’s seen. It looks like it goes back years and years, but not all vital instruments get their own page so there’s still plenty of room before Jabber has to go to a new notebook.

The first few vital instruments did get their own page, with drawings taking up large amounts of space while leaving room for writing around them. There’s a distinct lack of notes though, Jabber wrote at the bottom ‘Fought: I’. The next page: ‘Fought I’. Then the next: ‘Fought: I’. 

Evidently, Jabber expected to fight the givers more than once and had left room for the information he’d learn when he did. Zanka understands his disappointment. Whenever he sees a vital instrument he wants to know as much information as possible, and usually ends up coming away disappointed.

After those pages Jabber starts splitting up the pages into multiple instruments. His drawings get better and better, and by the time Zanka recognizes Too Lily’s vital instrument the drawings look like they could be photos. Somehow doubts Jabber fought Too Lily though. 

A thought comes to mind and he excitedly flips through the pages for other Raider’s pages, and finds what appears to be a goldmine.

There’s sketches of manhole lady’s portal, blonde chick’s comb, old guy’s arms, Fu’s cursed doll, and evidently what were other Raider’s instruments before they left. Or maybe Zanka just hasn’t met them yet. He likes one drawing of headphones, they look like a neat vital instrument. 

There’s no information written in the margins though, and after a few pages it goes back to being the regular log of vital instruments he fought, without ever mentioning Zodyl’s instrument. Everything’s been drawn in pencil, so Jabber might’ve been instructed to erase something he wasn’t supposed to write down. 

Zanka knows to look for a coat, but that’s all. He double checks the Raider pages but sees nothing. Not like he had any way to tell the other Cleaners if he did find something out though.

Across the span of several pages after that are Rudo’s 3R, Riyo’s Reaper, Enjin’s Umbreaker but only in an untransformed state, and no other Cleaner’s vital instruments. It makes sense, those are the ones that Jabber fought during the information broker run.

Next to Reaper is written the name ‘Noerde’ with a line through it that Zanka can’t make heads or tails of. Other than that, Jabber’s written ways to fight the scissors. It’s creepy, how easily he’s broken down Riyo’s fighting style into weaknesses to exploit. Zanka feels the need to warn Riyo about not letting Jabber get anywhere near her, he has a lot written in the margins.

3R doesn’t have as much written, probably because it’s not consistent. Jabber’s noted that the weapons he makes usually have big spikes and are focused on fighting. 

He also written down that though Rudo’s weapons are strong in one suit, they can’t cover multiple grounds and therefore, all he has to do is find that one front that Rudo’s failing at. Zanka makes a note to train Rudo on having more flexibility with his weapons.

Umbreaker looks as proper as always in her untransformed state. Zanka feels an uncomfortable tightness in his stomach when he sees her, and flips from the page quickly. He’s grateful Jabber only has one drawing of her.

Zanka tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him, but he can’t help but notice a lack of Lovely Assistaff. He guesses a plain stick wasn’t enough for Jabber to be truly interested, but it stings. No point taking notes over just a staff, it’d be a waste of paper. A genius can easily work out her weaknesses without doing extra thinking.

He quickly loses interest once he realizes his vital instrument won’t be featured. Letting the pages flip over one another quickly he sees that the drawings eventually stop maybe three fourths of the way through, and then pick up again at almost the very back. 

Zanka flips to the very last page, and sees Mankira after Mankira after Mankira.

He smiles. It’s sweet that Jabber loves his vital instrument, even if he’s not as open about it as some people.

His notes are surface level on the last two pages, probably when Jabber was still figuring out his own instrument.

He slows down and reads everything Jabber has written on these pages, admires every line of the drawings. Mankira looks a little different in these drawings, and Zanka doesn’t see any notes about neurotoxins until he turns the page.

He wants to add his own notes to what Jabber has written, wants to add the weaknesses he’s noticed and talk about vital instruments with him, even if it’s over paper. But he doesn’t. He’s not sure if Jabber would be okay with him looking through his notebooks.

Jabber’s lack of notes on Mankira is frustrating. Zanka wants to know more, he has more questions than answers when he sees drawings of her with different appearances. Was Jabber just hypothetically thinking about those appearances? Or does the genius really have the ability to change Mankira at will? He can enlarge her at will, something Zanka doesn’t think he’ll ever understand. 

He works his way through Mankira’s pages, spending longer on her than he’d ever admit. He’s held Reaper in the past, he wonders if Jabber would let him take a closer look at Mankira.

He’s surprised with how cute he finds it that Jabber’s filled so many pages with his vital instrument. All three of her different forms cover every single inch on the pages, except for those covered with Jabber’s tilted scrawl.

He turns a page and gasps.

There’s somehow what looks like a black and white photo of him and Lovely Assistaff on the two pages, though it’s really just a pencil drawing. He’s holding her in her transformed state out from him, towards a hypothetical enemy. The drawing is too detailed, Zanka starts wondering if Jabber snuck a camera to their fights when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Look girl, it’s us,” Zanka pulls Lovely Asaistaff close to admire the drawing with him. His parents would say he’s too codependent, that it’s just a stick, but he’s pretty sure he feels happiness in her anima when she sees the drawing.  She likes it too.

The empty spaces left by the drawing are filled with tiny, tiny writing. Jabber seems to have a lot to say. Surprisingly, none of it’s dissing Lovely Assistaff for just being a stick.

Some of the notes are ‘blunt force, not slicing. opposite of Mankira’, ‘combat stick? some type of hell guard marital arts?’, and ‘poison on spikes would be awesome’. Zanka notes with irritation an arrow to the other end of his staff where Jabber’s suggested more prongs and spikes for another form. When is that idiot gonna learn her current form is all he has?

He turns the page again, and sees more Mankira, but still Lovely Assitaff. His eyes greedily drink up every little sketch Jabber’s made. The two of them pair up randomly across the page. Jabber wrote down specific ways Mankira fights Lovely Assistaff best, and specific ways Lovely Assistaff forces Mankira to be better. Zanka swells up with pride whenever he sees a compliment for either him or his jinki.

There’s drawings of Lovely Assistaff as wood, Lovely Assistaff as her blue metal, and shockingly, there’s drawings of Zanka too.

There he is glaring forwards, there he is lying on the ground tweaking, there he is smirking as he spins Lovely Assistaff above him. The margins sometimes even have comments on him. He feels his face heat up as he reads, for reasons he can’t explain.

He eagerly turns the page again and again, expecting more drawings. After a few flips he instead sees a blank page with just the counter for fights again. It goes: ‘Fought: IIIIIIII…’ et cetera. The tally marks fill up row after row. Zanka knew they met up weekly every month for a while, but the fact Jabber kept count makes him feel like he’s floating. Jabber really does see him as a worthy opponent.

He keeps flipping through the pages, admiring Jabber’s drawings. His favorite ends up being one of Mankira’s claws wrapped around Lovely Assistaff’s handle. 

He can’t help but picture himself wearing her while wielding his jinki. Or Jabber wielding the two of them together.

Later, he finds his way to the parking garage, unsure of any other good places for training. The city’s starting to darken and he’s careful as he explores the parking garage, so that he doesn’t trip and fall. His wounds already hurt enough.

He climbs to the second floor and decides to be content with that level. He looks up at the building that Jabber’s apartment is in and can’t really make out anything inside the different windows. This is good, it means that the Cleaners probably didn't see him when they were there earlier wandering around as Zanka and Jabber watched.

He turns his attention back to his drills with Lovely Assistaff. His cast is gone and his wrist will finally comply, but now his midsection isn’t moving fluidly. Instead, it’s screaming in pain when Zanka tries to force it into athletic positions.

He gets irritated at his body’s failure. Memories of everything he failed to do in his life come up and with no witnesses to stop him he punishes his weak body by forcing it to do the drills again, and again, and again, and again.

His body betrays him by aching. He retaliates by forcing it to move. He bites his lip at the pain and he bites it hard enough to draw blood. His focus stays on moving Lovely Assistaff properly.

The neon graffiti faces on the concrete walls look like they’re mocking him. He can feel their spray-painted eyes contort with glee whenever he fails to properly execute a spin. He takes it as fuel to work harder, ignoring the temptation to bash their artistic features in.

Minutes stack up and exhaustion tries to root in his body, but he refuses to acknowledge his shortcomings. What would Kyouka say if he let some little cuts incapacitate him?

His stitches are barely clinging on. His twisting and turning of his body is starting to take revenge on him in the form of blood seeping down onto his pants. It’s lucky Jabber’s hoodie is a crop top, or it’d be getting stained too.

Zanka goes harder and harder until his body can’t move anymore. Once he’s gone through all his drills, he can’t stop himself from collapsing on the ground.

He grits his teeth, convincing himself he’s smiling with satisfaction. If someone only had Rudo and Jabber’s smiles for reference, they might believe him.

He waits for the pain to subside to a tolerable level, and decides to find a doctor himself.

He peels himself off the ground and descends the parking garage again. He limps down the ramps clinging to his wooden staff like his life depends on it. He won’t admit it hurts. He denies his body the weakness.

He reaches the dusty road and starts shuffling towards the heart of the city. The few people that are in the roads gawk at him and his blood, but they don’t interact with him. He could ask them for directions to a doctor’s office, but he’s not going to depend on the kindness of strangers to survive.

The town isn’t as awful as he took it to be. The houses work even if they look ugly. There are signs pointing to a hospital and Zanka turns to follow their guidance.

He’s got funds in his bag that he carried around with him when he was with the Cleaners. He doesn’t have any piggy banks back at Headquarters, his entire net worth is in his wallet where he can keep an eye on it at all times. It should be enough for a doctor, unless they really feel like scamming the hell out of him. With this in mind he takes off his tassel earrings, trying to look more broke than he is.

The doctor is no Alice Stilza, and they’re certainly no Eishia Stilza. Zanka misses Eishia. A lot. When he gets back he thinks he’ll bake her a cake.

The tall doctor inspects his injuries, and shares some unkind words about his stitches. They’re evidently not impressed by Jabber’s abilities.

“The edges of the wound aren’t healing properly. What did you put in this?” The doctor asks, looking confused.

Zanka grimaces, “Hand sanitizer…” The doctor raises their eyebrows and a look of distress comes across their face. Great, hand sanitizer really is that bad.

They offer Zanka pain medication, which he happily takes, and anesthetic while they redo the stitches, which Zanka turns down. He’s not trying to become an easier target than he already is. They forbid Zanka from using any more hand sanitizer and prescribe him a week rest period for the ‘proliferation phase’ to start. 

Zanka internally calculates that yesterday was Sunday night when he called Jabber up for another fight, and therefore the current day is Monday as he would’ve been out of it for maybe five hours. That means there’s four days until Friday night, when he usually fights Jabber.

A week for some random healing phase to start? Not likely. The doc gets four days. Take it or leave it.

Zanka thanks the doctor for their help and doesn’t admit to them about his plan to ignore their advice.

He heads back to Jabber’s apartment, and realizes as soon as he steps outside the building that he has no idea where he’s going. He heads for the parking garage in the direction he thinks he came from, it’d be really convenient if he could call up Jabber and ask. 

He misses his choker. And Eishia. And his gas mask, the air out here lowkey is bad. Is this town even in a safe zone?

The direction he picked proved to be right and the parking garage offers him a landmark. Still, there’s a few buildings around him and he can’t remember which one is Jabber’s apartment. He sits down on the stones of the parking garage and decides to just wait a bit, counting on Jabber to show up.

The sky’s starting to darken. It’s hard to believe that everything had transpired in one day. He hadn’t expected the Cleaners to come searching for him the morning after he disappeared. He wants to be touched by their love for him, but mostly he’s annoyed by how they just keep on doubting his abilities. Kidnapped? Really?

A figure comes prancing into view. Of course it’s Jabber, dancing around as he returns from whatever the Raiders needed him to do. He’s got bloodstains on him but Zanka observes that it’s not his own.

He stands up, stiff from sitting for so long, and walks over to join Jabber. Whatever the doc did, it makes walking around a lot easier; his limbs don’t feel like they’re fighting him every step of the way.

Jabber grins when he sees Zanka and waits for him to catch up, slinging an arm over his shoulders and putting weight on an already struggling to stand up Zanka. He doesn’t put Mankira away, but he’s careful not to prick Zanka.

“Zanka, my man! How was your evening?” Jabber asks genuinely. Zanka feels suspicious, he didn’t know Jabber could be genuine.

“I went to a doctor about your fuckass stitches,” Zanka gestures to the wound that’s easily visible since his hoodie is a crop top, “They said I gotta wait a week to do anything to be healed.”

“That include fighting?” Jabber asks with a frown. He ducks his head down to look at Zanka’s midsection and gets roughly pushed away.

“Duh, but I’m sure I’ll be fine in four days for the fight…” Zanka trails off as he realizes he’s reassuring Jabber. He doesn’t know why. He couldn’t care less.

Jabbed scratches his head with his free hand, Mankira’s claws still out, “I’m not the best at math but I’m pretty sure that’s three days.”

Zanka gives him a side eye, “Tomorrow, Wednesday, Thursday, and then Friday before the night.”

Jabber shakes his head, “Nah. Today’s Tuesday. Tomorrow is Wednesday.”

Zanka actually laughs at how a genius can be so dumb, “We fought Friday night or Saturday morning, and then I called you Sunday night or this morning. That makes today Monday.”

Jabber makes a face like he’s holding back a grin and does his best not to giggle.

Zanka isn’t amused,  “What?”

Jabber can’t hold back the giggle anymore, “Okay okay don’t be too mad.”

“What.”

“Okay… so you know how I gave you awesome stitches?”

 “The actual doctor would disagree.”

“Whatever. My work takes time,” Jabber laughs and can’t finish his sentence. Zanka feels like strangling him.

“So, I kept you high while I was doing your stitches, and it kinda took a day.”

Zanka glares at him, doing his best to keep his voice calm, “You’re telling me I was out of it for a full day?!” Jabber covers his face with Mankira’s claws as he giggles in glee.

By now they’ve gotten the Jabber’s apartment. He hops over to his desk and snatches up the purple notebook, starting to scribble something Zanka doesn’t really care to learn. He’s too busy thinking about what he missed while he was apparently in Jabber’s bathtub.

Zanka wants to set down the medicine he got from the doctor, but he doesn’t know what space in the apartment he should take up. Putting his stuff down into the room feels like committing.

He wants Jabber to look up, notice his discomfort, and magically procure a place for Zanka’s stuff, but alas, Jabber can’t read his mind. He’s locked in on writing stuff down.

Zanka clears his throat, “Where should I put my stuff?”

Jabber doesn’t even glance up, “What stuff? You just have Lovely Assistaff and I know you don’t wanna be apart from her.”

“I have medicine,” Zanka disagrees, “And where am I sleeping? I’ll put it there.”

At this, Jabber looks up and smirks, “In the bed.”

Zanka furrows his brow at the response and goes to look for his bed. He finds one in the third and final room of Jabber’s apartment. The room is fairly messy in Zanka’s opinion, there are random objects scattered around all available surfaces but the floor and bed. The bed itself isn’t made and it looks like Jabber definitely eats in bed which is a no-no in Zanka’s book but-

Hold on. Is he sharing a bed with Jabber?

“Jabber fuckin- woah,” Zanka starts, angrily turning around to confront Jabber, and is jumpscared by the man being only a step behind him. He puts a hand on Jabber’s face and shoves him away.

 “What’s your last name anyways?” He mutters as he goes to set the medicine on a random shelf, mentally memorizing the spot so he won’t have to search through Jabber’s messy room for it again.

“Wonger,” Jabber says, sticking out a hand for a handshake. 

Zanka doesn’t return the gesture, “Tell me, Jabber Wonger, why is there only one bed.” Technically, it’s a question, but Zanka’s inflection stays monotone throughout the sentence.

“You’re welcome to sleep on the couch,” Jabber offers, tilting his head to the main room.

“Great,” Zanka grunts as he makes his way back out of the bedroom. Jabber stops him by stepping into his path and leaning down just slightly to get face to face with Zanka.

“Buut there’s an awful draft out there at night, you’d be a lot warmer with me.”

“I’ll risk it,” Zanka snarls, but he stops moving with Jabber’s face inches from his.

“Plus, I actually washed my sheets for you. No guarantee on the last time the couch got washed. I found it in a No Man’s Land.”

This gets Zanka to genuinely consider the bed. He’s pretty sure Jabber’s lying about finding the bed in a No Man’s Land. Like, eighty percent sure. But Jabber’s smile is pretty confident… Okay he’s sixty percent sure Jabber’s lying.

“I’d rather sleep in the No Man’s Land,” He retorts, and finally elbows Jabber in the ribs to push his way out of the bedroom.

Jabber shrugs and follows him, throwing the purple notebook back onto his desk as he does so.

Zanka sits on the couch, not to sleep, just to question his life. Once again, his gaze ends up on Jabber’s popcorn ceiling. It really is different than Hell Guard’s.

Jabber watches his new roommate slowly doze off on the couch. Zanka’s stomach rumbles and he notes that he should get some food for the poor guy. Nijikus and Cleaners probably never have to go hungry.

He hadn’t really expected Zanka to like the one bed idea, but what was he supposed to do with no warning that he’d be hosting someone else? 

The last time somebody visited his little apartment was when Cthoni noticed him failing to show up to a mission and checked to make sure he wasn’t dead. He hadn’t been dead, just high as a kite.

Even if he had known Zan-zan was coming to live with him he probably wouldn’t have gone to all the effort of buying a new bed. The landlord gave him the bed with the apartment before he mysteriously died (he was charging way too much for rent) and he had stolen the couch, not lifted it from a No Man’s Land.

So much effort for furniture, Zanka doesn’t need all that effort when there’s a perfectly good bed right there. Plus, it’s really his fault for giving Jabber zero warning.

He watches Zanka’s breathing deepen until he’s certain that it’s sleep. Healing from a couple stabs just takes so much gosh darn energy.

The purple notebook gets picked up and put properly onto the pile of notebooks. Although, looks like the pile has become a couple of neat stacks. Jabber snickers, Zan-zan’s been going through his stuff and organizing it. What a clean freak.

He leaves to go to get the starving guy some food. The longest Jabber’s ever gone without food for was five days when he was younger, living closer to the edge of the No Man’s Lands. His childhood home took pride in their location though, and refused to move further away even if it meant having more food.

Jabber finds a yummy looking shop and orders two bowls of Jambalaya, hoping Zanka doesn’t mind spicy foods too much. It’d also be really funny to see Zanka try and pretend it doesn’t bother him if he doesn’t like spicy food though.

There’s something fun about food that can make your mouth feel like it’s on fire. Like when Jabber was so hungry as a kid he was driven to eat a variant of nettles. His throat stung and stung, he’d never felt anything like it.

Jabber shakes his head to try and get old memories out. Zanka was making him think about stuff he usually didn’t. He’d beat Zanka’s ass for that in their next spar.

When he gets back to the apartment Zanka’s still snoozing, a small amount of drool on his cheek. 

Jabber stares for a moment, then gets an idea and yells as loud as he can, “LOOK IT’S ENJIN, HERE TO GET YOUR ASS ZANKA!”

Zanka shoots up and whips his head from side to side. He rubs his eyes and realizes what’s happening, then flips Jabber off.

Jabber grabs an end table from the side of the couch and brings it over to Zanka, sitting down next to him and setting down his bag of food. The plastic bag is one from the Sphere, only rich companies on the Ground can afford to have their own logos on the plastic bags.

Zanka reaches for a bowl and makes a confused face at the contents, “What’s this?”

“Jambalaya,” Jabber says in between spoonfuls.

“No like seriously,” Zanka asks again as he grabs a spoon, “What’s in this?”

“I don’t know man,” Jabber frowns at him, “Food?” 

Zanka takes a bite and his eyes light up, Jabber can tell, but he immediately fixes his face back to a grouchy expression. He quickly goes in for another bite.

“I mean, it’s okay. Kinda spicy,” Zanka eventually says after eating a third of it.

“Yeah, I always get the spiciest option,” Jabber shrugs. Wow, Zanka’s eating it faster than him.

“Do you have anything to drink?” Zanka asks.

“It’s just demand after demand with you,” Jabber says as he gets up to grab a drink regardless.

Part of him is nervous and he doesn’t know why. It’s weird, having Zanka in his house, expecting things from him. When Zanka was on his drugs and couldn’t judge that was one thing, but now Jabber feels like he’s gonna scare Zanka off.

Is he doing too much with the food and drink? He tells himself he doesn’t care what Zanka thinks, and that’s true, but he does care if Zanka runs away. It’d be sad if he lost a sparring buddy like Zanka because he was too insane for him. He’s usually too insane for most people. He lucked out with the Raiders, because they’re all crazy too.

Somehow, he manages to calmly eat food next to Zanka, who seems to be lost in thought. Jabber can usually make manic jokes and giggle through every interaction, only stopping to just be tired at home. But now, there’s somebody in his home. Does he make more jokes despite being kinda sleepy and tired, or does he just act chill? He doesn’t want to switch up too much on Zanka, by suddenly acting all calm. 

He wonders if Zanka only likes meeting up with him because he’s a bit insane. He knows that Zanka’s insane too, underneath the surface. He wants to pry open the cracks of Zanka’s perfect mask and have a mutually insane fight with him, but once that’s done, what are they supposed to do? Jabber can’t picture Zanka finally letting go to just part ways like normal after their fights. He doesn’t know what Zanka would do frankly. 

Jabber wants Zanka to let go. He wants to get that fight, that bliss. He just doesn’t want whatever comes after. He’d rather just keep fighting, keep fighting, and then keep fighting.

Zanka stands up after finishing his bowl, still pretending he doesn’t like it despite eating the whole thing.

He groans and finally admits, “I’m not sleeping on the couch.” Jabber grins.

Zanka’s a little offended at the lack of pajamas, but Jabber couldn’t care less. The Raider gets into bed first and waits for the ball of nerves to join him.

He pats the bed next to him, “C’mon Zan-zan~~ I don’t bite.” He hopes Zanka doesn’t leave now. Surely there’s worse things in the world than sleeping in the same bed as Jabber.

“You say that…” Zanka mutters, crossing his arms as he considers the bed, “Promise you won’t kill me.

Jabber smiles, “I like you, fighting you, too much to kill you.”

Zanka flushes and lets out a small breath, still wary, “Freak.” He climbs into the bed and makes sure not to touch Jabber.

Jabber chuckles and adjusts his pink bonnet one more time before going to sleep, when a voice cuts through the silence.

“’Night.”

“G’night, Zan-zan.”

Gris picks up on a tense feeling as the Cleaners head back from the parking garage. Nobody breaks the silence, nobody makes eye contact, and everyone seems disappointed. He sits in the passenger seat and therefore is in charge of music. He opts for a mellow radio station that matches how they all feel.

They hadn’t really been expecting to find Zanka just sitting around in the parking garage and they’re still holding out hope that he might’ve just gone for a trip without telling anybody. Even so, they’re disappointed.

They found a couple of clues. There were fresh bloodstains and marks that look like they could’ve come from Mankira or Lovely Assistaff. A large claw shaped scrape in the concrete here, a circular crack in the ground there. Of course, those indentations could’ve come from something else too.

Gris knows coming out was a wild goose chase, but he can’t deny that he wanted to find Zanka there all the same.

The way Semiu had made it sound, the Raiders must have snuck into Headquarters when Zanka was asleep and kidnapped him. Probably didn’t want to lose a valuable source of information. Gris doesn’t really care about the information, he’d tell the Raiders whatever they want if they give Zanka back.

Not that he’s really kidnapped. He’s probably fine. Just making them all worry over nothing.

He hopes Zanka’s not too afraid at the current moment, if he is tied up in a basement somewhere. It makes his heart hurt to remember that Zanka’s last conversation with Enjin was an argument. He reaches over to squeeze Enjin’s hand, who looks similarly lost in thought. His driving isn’t even as bad as usual, looks like it takes a conscious effort to drive that bad.

Despite Gris’ desire to go into his room and just think, it’s only 1:12 when they get back. He has a full day ahead of him. The entrance is bustling with people and he can’t avoid saying hello as he walks in. The mood of the returning party is depressing to say the least.

Rudo walks up when he sees the other two members of his team walking in, “Hey guys!” He attempts a smile, but it comes out wrong, as usual. Gris chuckles at the venture and ruffles Rudo’s hair gently.

“How’re you doing today, Rudo?” He asks, making conversation since Riyo and Enjin both don’t look like they will.

“I’m doing fine,” Rudo says with a nod, “You guys don’t look so good though.” Gris can’t argue with that. Enjin’s running a hand through his hair as he tries to think of something to say to the kid, and it only serves to make him look more disheveled.

“We’re all great, don’t worry about us,” Riyo suggests with a wink and a thumbs-up. Rudo doesn’t look convinced.

“I heard from Semiu you guys were looking for Zanka.”

Silence greets him. Nobody knows what to say to that hopeful looking face.

“Did you guys… find anything?”

Enjin scowls and looks down, “Nope.”

Gris interjects, “We have other things we need to do today though. Zanka’s fine, just busy. That’s why we haven’t seen him around base.”

Rudo nods, still frowning, and says in a small voice, “But I wanted to train 3R…”

Gris sympathizes and places a hand on Rudo’s shoulder, “Riyo can take over for him today. She’s great with Reaper and having a second teacher can help broaden your perspective.” He doesn’t know how to make Rudo cheer up. It’s really not a huge deal that Zanka’s missing since people are gone all the time. 

It just goes to show that the Cleaners really are codependent, Gris thinks with a snort. We can’t handle when one person disappears for a single day.

In a voice so quiet that Gris can barely hear it, Rudo mutters, “I wanna train with him though.”

The aroma of flavorful food fills the air of the apartment, pulling Zanka out of his dreams. He rubs his eyes and sits up, thinking that the mattress is too cushy as he does so.

He blinks around the room to try and see where the smell is coming from. He runs his fingers through his hair to try and straighten it out, then pushes it back to the style he likes. Without drugs addling his mind he easily remembers where he is, but he’s too busy being hungry to be disgusted with himself.

“Jabber?” He calls out. His voice sounds deeper as he’s still groggy from sleep. He assumes it’s his new roommate that got the food, and sure hopes he’s not calling out the wrong name to whoever’s in the apartment.

After a few seconds, Jabber pops into the room with two paper plates. Zanka wonders if he has tableware, or if paper plates are just his norm.

Jabber jumps on the bed and Zanka has to quickly scooch over to avoid getting hit. His movements are slow with drowsiness and he ends up sitting closer to Jabber than he would’ve normally allowed.

“Thoughts on shawarma?” Jabber grins while offering him a wrap. Zanka mutters some thanks while taking it and enjoying the meal.

Jabber grinning at him doesn’t make him nervous. It’s not his usual ear-to-ear smile that could make a baby cry. At some point Zanka realized there are Jabber’s creepy grins where he’s ecstatic about getting his ass beat, and there’s Jabber’s genuine grins where he can’t contain the joy that seems to pour from him like light from a fire.

As Jabber sits next to him and scarfs down the shawarma, he wears a genuine smile.

Zanka leans back against the pillows and relaxes. His stitches don’t hurt thanks to proper pain meds, he’s eating delicious food that for some reason the Cleaners don’t have, and he’s not got anything to do all day. Just relax. And train, but that’s his form of relaxing. 

It’s enough to distract from the fact he’s eating in bed, which is atrocious behavior.

And, it distracts from the fact he just shared a bed with another man. He can practically hear the disgust in his parents' voices as they tell him to get up, change out of Jabber's shirt, and never spend another second in his apartment.

The chicken shawarma is really good though. Zanka lets himself get lost in the flavor, and forget about the family that already hates him. Can’t double hate him, now can they. Though if somebody could figure that out, it’d be his family when they learn what he’s doing at the moment.

Zanka notices Jabber watching him and turns his head to hum in a questioning tone at the eyes on him.

Jabber’s eyes flicker back and forth between his own, “I’m just glad you like the chicken shawarma.” Zanka nods, too busy stuffing his face to respond.

“What’s your favorite type of food?” Jabber asks randomly. 

Zanka raises an eyebrow, but indulges the question, “Uhh, I like when it’s got a lot of flavor. Like jambalaya or shawarma.”

Jabber laughs, “You can’t just say the food I’ve gotten you.”

“Maybe you’ve just got good taste,” Zanka mumbles, then frowns when he realizes who he just complimented.

Jabber grins and opens his mouth to start talking again, Zanka reaches out with one hand to put a palm over his face and stop him from disturbing the eating time. He can feel Jabber laughing beneath his fingers.

Zanka eventually finishes his shawarma, and gives Jabber the disposable plate to throw away. He can’t get up from the comfortable bed. This is the reason he doesn’t add extra pillows and blankets to his bed, he’d never get up.

Jabber doesn’t seem to mind, he throws the plates away before slipping back into bed and lying on his stomach. He turns his head to look at Zanka, who pretends not to notice and reaches for Lovely.

He asks her his typical questions, but in his mind because he doesn’t want Jabber to judge him. Then he decides he doesn’t really care what Jabber thinks and Lovely Asistaff comes first.

“How’re you doing today?” He asks in a low voice. Jabber hears anyways, because of course he does.

“Are you talking to her?” He questions. Zanka thinks the tone sounds judging. He grits his teeth and continues.

“Do you always talk to her?” Jabber interrogates him further. Zanka feels himself getting mad already. So maybe he’s weird for talking to his jinki, it’s not like he hasn’t already heard that one a million times.

“I knew I wasn’t crazy,” Jabber’s smile is audible in his words. 

Zanka’s head snaps to look at him, full of surprise, “You talk to Mankira?” Jabber nods and his gaze shifts to his rings as he brings a hand closer to his eyes.

“I feel like you gotta talk with them if you wanna know how they’re doing,” Jabber confesses. It’s like Zanka’s hearing everything he’s been thinking for years being confirmed. He laughs out loud that he’s finally found someone as crazy about their vital instrument as he is. Jabber looks at him when he laughs, and he rushes to clarify he wasn’t mocking Jabber.

“No, I’m not judging. It’s just weird…” Zanka doesn’t know how to explain it, “Having someone agree with me.” He settles on those words, they embody it best.

He sinks back into the pillows and holds Lovely Assistaff above him, “I think I need to buy care materials for her. I didn’t bring them with me.”

He thinks about which brand to buy and hears a voice from beside him, “You use products on her? To keep her all nice?” He turns to see Jabber inspecting Mankira closer now, maybe considering which products he would use.

“Can,” Zanka starts, then stops. He really considers what he’s asking. It’s a bit odd, he doesn’t want to overwhelm Jabber with his love for vital instruments.

“Can I polish her?” Zanka tries again, nodding at Mankira. Jabber’s breath hitches for a second, before he looks up at Zanka. He nods.

“May I?” Zanka requests, wanting to hold Mankira. Jabber reaches one hand out for a closer look.

Zanka holds Jabber’s hand close, and does so without even thinking about his family’s disgust. He admires Mankira and slips his thumb out to rub over her far right pinky finger ring. Jabber squirms under the tender caress, Zanka likes seeing him squirm.

She’s sleek and silver, with three sections per ring. There’s a triangle pointing out towards the nails. It reminds Zanka of the claws that come out when she’s activated.

He never really noticed it before, but Jabber’s got matching silver bracelets. He wonders if they came with Mankira, he’d like to ask about her origins.

He’s decided what polish he would use and seen as much of Mankira as he needs to see to know what other materials he’d want to buy. Time to mess with Jabber, for revenge.

He slowly leans forward and kisses Mankira. The way Jabber just barely trembles underneath him doesn’t go unnoticed. Jabber’s staring at him, looking like he has a lot he wants to say.

Zanka leans back even slower, and almost releases Jabber’s hand when fingers curl around his.

“That’s,” The flustered man starts, “You can’t- You have to do them all.”

Zanka lets out a small laugh, “Of course. None should feel left out.” He doesn’t know where the boldness is coming from, but he rolls with it.

He kisses each one of Mankira’s rings, slowly. Jabber stares as he finishes one hand and reaches to hold the next. To do so, he sets Lovely Assistaff above the covers, across their legs. He never thought he’d see the day where the four of them are hanging out together peacefully.

His lips finally leave Jabber’s left pinky ring, and he admires the way Jabber looks uncomfortable from sweet touch. Who’d have thought he could squirm?

He quickly pulls his hands back, and turns his head away to look into the bed, avoiding Zanka’s gaze.

“That better?” He inquires with a smirk. Jabber just nods, and he takes his time with it too.

Arka Corvus now sits at his desk chair in his office. His hands are interlocked, and he stares at them as he thinks about what to do. Zanka, one of the most organized Cleaners, has either taken an extremely terribly timed break without reporting it to a single person and without getting spotted on the way out, or the Raiders have something to do with his disappearance.

Zanka doesn’t have too much information, but he has more than the Raiders should. It seems the disadvantages that could have been given to the enemy, have indeed been given to the enemy.

Corvus will need to do something about it.

Chapter Text

Wednesday morning goes by quickly, and it feels almost normal. Zanka watches Jabber leave for ‘Raider thingies’, and gets reminded of when Riyo would leave Cleaner Headquarters for ‘trash beast stuff’. He thinks if the two met under different circumstances they could have been friends.

As he leaves, Zanka looks for the kitchen. The food he had for dinner and breakfast was good, he didn’t realize Jabber could cook like that. However, as he looks around the apartment he doesn’t even see a fridge, let alone a kitchen. He realizes he’d attributed a little bit too much to somebody who lives in a crumbling town, Jabber had simply bought the food.

Time to change that, Zanka thinks as he heads into town again. He brings a paper and pen with him and writes down details about Jabber’s building as he goes. This time he won’t have to wait around like an idiot until Jabber gets back to show him the way. 

He thinks about checking Jabber’s yellow notebooks to see if he has a map of this town. It’s only fair that he gets a map after drawing Jabber such a good one of the Kamuatari District.

The Kamuatari District that he wants to break into.

Zanka knows it’s dumb and they’ll get caught, but if anyone has a chance to successfully steal from them, it’s Jabber. A genius with one of the strongest vital instruments that Zanka’s ever seen, not that he’d say that to Jabber’s face.

Zanka had been top of his class at the academy in academics, athletics, sparring, everything. If he couldn’t beat Jabber, then there’s a good chance other Hell Guards wouldn’t be able to either.

His brain whispers to him, ‘Unless there’s Kyouka or Goka or Hyo…’

Zanka tells his brain to zip it.

He obviously won’t break into Hell Guard, but as he walks back to the part of town with the hospital he can’t help but mull it over.

If they go during a guard change then there’s more people and a higher chance they’ll get caught. It would be best to go immediately after to give themselves the most time before Hell Guard knows people snuck in, but if they go too soon after it starts they might run into three people instead of two.

He’s seen Jabber climb walls before in their fights, it always pisses him off when he can’t reach even with his staff. He then just has to stand on the floor and yell at Jabber to come down, as he hasn’t yet figured out how to use Lovely Assistaff to pole vault up and get him. Maybe he should try and see if that’s possible actually…

He shakes his head and gets back to thinking about breaking into possibly the worst place to break into. If Jabber can climb walls then he can scale certain parts of the academy that most people can’t. Of course, that would mean leaving Zanka to find another route in.

Two glass doors slide open before him and a gust of cool air rushes out to meet him. He steps into a grocery store, he’s pretty sure, and looks around for ingredients.

He hasn’t got many recipes, and he knows even less that don’t require a kitchen to properly make, but he wants to have real food without having to rely on eating out for every meal.

The store doesn’t have nori or rice, so sushi’s out. That’s just as well, he’s almost positive there’s no rice cooker at Jabber’s apartment.

There’s no dashi power, but Zanka knows enough that he replaces it with artificial meat broth. He grabs the rest of the stuff he needs for miso soup, and then some chilis on his way out. If Jabber really likes spicy food that much he can add a little.

He checks out and starts back again. He pulls out the paper he brought earlier to make a mini map and follows it back to the apartment. It works pretty well, but he’s gonna take a while to learn the town completely.

Miso soup ended up being what was chosen, since all it needs is boiling and he’s sure that Jabber will have a Benson burner if nothing else.

He thinks about refurbishing before remembering the plan is to leave as soon as he can beat the genius. No point refurbishing a place he won’t stay at for long.

Cthoni drags the unconscious man into her portal. Jabber notes how he reacted to the toxin, and plans to write it aaall down in his notebook when he gets home. 

Home where his sweet little Zanky is waiting. Who would’ve thought the Cleaner really did just want to live with him? No malicious intent or anything.

He gets Cthoni to drop him off near the edge of town. Normally he’d walk, but that might take him a bit and he doesn’t want Zanka to think he got abandoned. Although Zanka probably wouldn’t mind being free of him for a few days.

When he gets back to the apartment he skips in, happy to be home and to be a bother, before stopping dead in his tracks as he sees Zanka cooking at his desk above a Benson burner.

“Zanka! You making a poison? I’m impressed man,” Jabber excitedly hops over to see what it is, and is greeted with the disappointing sight of food.

“Miso soup. The most ‘poisonous’ thing about it is that I had to use a pot you store your plants in,” Zanka grimaces as he gestures to the bowl the soup’s cooking in. It’s indeed one that Jabber uses to store plants, when he’s not cooking them in it. There’s not many poisons that require heating so he doesn’t have a use for it most of the time.

“What’d you do with the plants in it?” Jabber looks around for where his stash went. Zanka gestures to the pile on the table. They’re carefully set where they don’t touch anything else, but it’s fine. The ones that are really bad news from just touching aren’t kept in his old metal bowls with the others.

“I washed the pot out so we shouldn’t be getting food poisoning from the residue, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some of it stuck around,” Zanka swirls the soup around with a glass stirring rod. Jabber does his best not to laugh at the sight. Somebody needs a real spoon, chemistry equipment doesn’t make the best kitchen utensils.

“Ehh, I’m probably immune to the worst stuff,” He says with a shrug, reaching a finger to the bowl to taste a little.

Zanka harshly grabs his hand, “You’re literally covered in blood. You are not touching the soup that I have to eat like that.”

“I wanna know what it tastes like,” Jabber whines as he wrenches free from Zanka’s grip and dips a finger in the soup anyways. Mmmmm, spicy. Zanka rubs his eyes.

“So how was your daaaay?” Jabber asks as he lowers himself onto the spinny chair. He does a spin or two before Zanka reaches out to stop the chair.

“Fine,” Zanka grunts. He goes to turn off the Benson burner. Such a dedicated chef, Jabber should get him a ‘kiss the cook’ apron.

Jabber frowns at the lackluster response, “What made you decide to make lunch? Well I don’t know, this might be dinner for you, what time is it? I think it’s like lunchtime, right? Is this gratefulness for the food I got you? Cause let me tell you, that was all storebought.”

“I know.” Wow, Zanka’s kind of bad at multitasking as he cooks. 

Or maybe he just doesn’t know how to hold conversations that aren’t about fighting or vital instruments. Hmmmmmmm… what’s a good conversation topic…

“So about breaking into Hell Guard,” Jabber gets cut off by the glare sent his way. Ope, yep, that got his attention all right.

“We’re not doing that,” Zanka asserts, his voice purposefully harsh and mean. Ooh, Jabber loves when he lets himself be mean.

“Awww, you said ‘we’!” He jokes, giggling at the withering look he receives. If looks could kill…

“You plus me are not doing that,” Zanka says again, his emphasis on the changed pronouns.

“Pardon me sir,” Jabber sticks one finger in the air, “But I believe it’s ‘you plus I’, not ‘you plus me’.”

Zanka’s hand reaches for the glass stirring rod, and Jabber doesn’t think it’s for stirring purposes.

“How’re we gonna eat that?” He asks, nodding at the soup. The cook looks confused. Evidently he didn’t check Jabber cabinets thoroughly.

“My guy,” He says, “I don’t have spoons..”

Zanka looks like he’s considering throwing the boiling soup at him. It’d probably hurt real good, maybe he should keep ragebaiting for it.

“I think if we do rob Hell Guard, you should just go for the silverware and not the poisons,” He finally mutters, evidently having decided not to throw the bowl at Jabber.

“WAS THAT A JOKE?” Jabber jumps up and claps his hands, “DID YOU MAKE A JOKE? YOU CAN DO THAT?”

All Zanka’s good humor disappears, “Yes, I do know how to make jokes.”

“Aww, of course you do, Zan-zan. I never doubted you for a moment.” He really looks like he’s gonna punch Jabber now.

“Go find a bowl or something,” He commands, “Or I’m eating what I want and you can just have the leftovers.”

“That’s fine man, I don’t mind sharing a little spit,” Jabber winks at him and gets rewarded with being ignored. Aww, being ignored’s no funnnn. 

He digs through his pile of equipment for the few spoons he’s sure he’s got somewhere. They’ve got to be somewhere here. Okay, no spoons.

“Hey Mr. Bad Attitude, would you rather eat off of a pipette or a spatula?”

“The hell’s a spuh-too-luh?” Zanka asks with raised eyebrows. Jabber raises one of the metal spatulas in response. It looks a bit like if a spoon got crushed by an anvil. It’s chemistry equipment. Zanka opts for it over the pipette.

Him and Jabber sit on the couch as they eat the soup from the pot. Despite Zanka swearing he would rather die than share spit with Jabber, he ends up letting Jabber eat from the pot with him. There’s simply no other bowls in the apartment. Except for the ones that are hidden in the desk drawer, Jabber thinks smugly.

Reluctantly, Zanka opens up about breaking into Hell Guard. He grabs the map and details it even more, showing different routes they could take. He even smiles for a moment when he’s explaining things to Jabber. Why do all of their best conversations seem to happen over food? If this is how it’s gonna be, Jabber might invest in a kitchen.

“This is all hypothetical,” Zanka says for the tenth time during their conversation, “But can you carry a person on your back?”

“Duh.”

“No, but as you’re scaling a wall. Specifically, me,” He seems a bit embarrassed to be asking. Well, sitting directly on Jabber’s back is a bit more intimate than either of them would’ve thought was where they thought their fighting would end up.

Jabber considers him for a moment, “I mean we’d probably need to practice, but if you promise not to fall off I promise not to drop you.”

Zanka nods and looks away for a moment before continuing the discussion, “Okay well if you can scale the wall we should- would, hypothetically, break in here.” He points to a spot on the map, it’s smack dab in the middle of the guard change rotation that he’s got labeled. Jabber wonders if that’s on purpose.

“Okay, explain the guard rotation to me,” He asks.

“It’s pretty simple, it just looks hard,” Zanka starts drawing diagrams. Jabber realizes he just signed up for a whole spiel and decides not to listen too hard.  

Zanka points at the diagram and says, “Two guards are at each station, and two are in the break room. Every thirty minutes, one guard gets sent out from the break room to the first station and bumps out the guard that’s been there the longest. After that, the guard that’s been bumped out will go to the second station, bump out the guard that’s been there longest, et cetera et cetera.

“All the stations make a circle around the academy. At the final station, the guard that gets bumped out is right next to the break room. He’ll go in, and it’s usually been enough hours that he’s through with his shift and he can go home. And that’s how the rotation works. It ensures that there’s always two people at a station.

“If we want to break in and give ourselves the most amount of time, then we should do it right after the guard change because there will be another hour before people discover the guards we’ll have to incapacitate somehow. We can try to sneak in without them seeing us, but that’s probably not going to happen. It would be best to knock the guards out in the section we sneak through, because that way we can be certain they won’t raise the alarm until they’ve woken up. Although, it’d probably be best to use your vital instrument so that whoever discovers them can’t get any information out of them.

“Now, the longest stretch between stations is this wall at a corner station with the arrow where you would climb up to. The reason this is the best spot is because of decreased visibility from other stations, though they still can-”

Zanka stops. It seems he finally notices that Jabber started dozing off during his second sentence.

“Jabber,” He kicks the sleeping man in the leg hard enough to bruise, which makes him giggle while still pretending to be asleep.

“You dickhead, you asked me to explain it.”

“Okay I take that back,” Jabber finally opens his eyes, “Just tell me where to climb and who to attack and I’ll be good.”

Zanka rolls his eyes and goes back to looking at the map. He sets the half-empty pot on the ground. He looks mad. Jabber likes it.

“Zanka?”

“Hm,”

“Will you fight me Friday?”

Zanka starts saying, “Obviou-” He cuts himself off with a frown. One hand goes to his stupid midsection. Why does he have to be so easy to injure? Jabber just wants to spar him.

“If you’re not fighting me Friday, then I wanna break into Hell Guard,” Jabber decides, kicking back to get comfy on the sofa.

Zanka rolls his eyes at the mention of the raid, but doesn’t directly say no. At some point since he started yapping about how he’d theoretically break in, he started genuinely considering it.

Jabber wishes he could peel back the skin on Zanka’s head to see his brain work. He wonders if there’s a type of poison that would make Zanka’s every thought spill out of his head before he could filter it through ‘what would my family think’ and ‘what would society think’. That takes away from all the fun.

“We can fight,” He says with a curt nod, before going back to examine the map.

“Friday?”

“No, I need more time to heal than that.”

“Saturday?”

Zanka glares at him, then sighs, “Something like that.”

When the sky starts to darken, Zanka heads to the parking garage to get in the training he hasn’t yet done. Jabber trails behind him like a lost puppy. He doesn’t say anything but Zanka can feel eyes on his neck.

Lovely Assistaff seems wary to start the drills. Zanka scowls when he can tell that even she thinks he’s too weak. ‘Just watching out for you’, yeah right. It’s just like Enjin. Assuming he can’t before he’s even tried. He did the drills yesterday, didn’t he? His stomach feels even better today, there’s no reason he can’t now.

He remembers Jabber’s sitting on a pile of rocks behind him and reminds himself to stop pretending his jinki can talk. Whether or not she’s genuinely conscious isn’t a conversation he wants to have with the Raider. If Jabber agrees, that’s awesome, but it’s not like he’s the most reliable source.

He imagines saying to Riyo, ‘Vital instruments can talk! Jabber says Mankira talks to him!’ Yeah, that’s likely to get a good reaction.

First drill, simple forward thrust. Practice spinning her. Practice swinging her.

He slams her into the ground hard enough to crack the concrete and kicks himself up into the air, swinging around while holding onto her as a base. He hears Jabber ooh and ahh, and rolls his eyes. If he was embarrassed to have to do drills with onlookers at Cleaner Headquarters, he’s now annoyed to have such a loud observer in whatever town this is.

He tells himself to forget about Jabber, and gets lost in his drills. Moving Lovely Assistaff. Memorizing every indent on her smooth wood surface.

As he starts really moving with his drills he suddenly feels breath on his neck. He whirls around and accidentally smacks his stick into Jabber’s side, who doubles over and takes a few steps back before grinning up at Zanka again. 

“You’re better than this,” He says. What does that even mean?

“Attacking air? Wouldn’t you rather have a punching bag? A real body to swing at, that is, if you can catch me,” Jabber’s eyes glint. His voice taunts Zanka. It promises things that seem just beyond Zanka’s fingertips, especially when he’s injured. Although, his side is hurting less. But still, he’s not going to engage in this.

He’s baiting me, Zanka thinks, he’s just trying to fight. I’m going to break my stitches, again.

“C’monn, I won’t fight back,” Jabber says, reading his mind, “Let’s see who’s faster.”

He’s baiting me. That is not proper training.

“You come here to train and won’t even follow through? Surely that’d be better training than some boring drills you do everyday,” His eyes glow as Mankira comes out, the pink extra bright in the low light of dusk.

He’s baiting me.

“Or maybe you just already know you can’t catch me,” Jabber’s grin is showing every last tooth. Zanka wants to break them.

He’s baiting me. I’m getting baited.

Nonetheless, Zanka raises Lovely Assistaff to hit him. Jabber disappears from view almost immediately.

His laugh echoes in the garage, “You’re so much like me, Zan-zan.” 

Zanka searches for where it’s coming from, determining it to be a wall at least twenty feet away from him. How can that damn Raider move so fast?

He tries to move just as fast. His next drill is practicing a straightforward swing. He aims it right at Jabber’s neck.

Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, he dodges. Pulling his claws out of the wall dislodges little stones, and Zanka has to shield his face with his sleeve to stop them from getting into his eyes. As a result of retaining his vision, he loses Jabber back into the shadows.

“Jabber,” He calls, his voice low and rough as his eyes sweep back and forth. He hears another giggle cut through the crisp evening air to his left. In an instant he’s there, swinging at the origin of the noise.

Lovely Assistaff whistles through the air and comes closer to hitting him, yet it still lands on stone. Zanka huffs and searches the room once again.

“Nice Mr. Bad Attitude, you were closer that time,” Jabber teases from somewhere he can’t see. He pretends that he doesn’t care about the compliment.

Zanka follows the glow of pink like a moth to a flame, and strikes like lightning at its source. 

As Jabber flies away his tail of fabric gets stuck on Lovely Assistaff’s spikes. Zanka takes advantage of the moment of weakness to send a kick into Jabber’s nose, as hard as he can. Jabber can’t move, still caught by the staff, and Zanka grabs his throat. He pushes Jabber against the wall, his face only inches away.

Blood trickles down from Jabber’s nose onto Zanka’s wrist. Both of them are grinning, the only illumination being their glowing eyes. Everything he can see is pink. Jabber’s eyes, his teeth and the blood that stains them.

Slowly, Jabber sticks out a tongue and licks the blood off of his lips, never breaking eye contact.

“Caught you,” Zanka mutters into their shared air. Jabber just keeps grinning.

They return to the apartment. Jabber’s thoroughly pleased with the reaction he got out of Zanka, who now looks a little tired, a little angry, and a little hungry. Jabber might’ve imagined it, but he thinks he also sees a bit of satisfaction in the way Zanka stands confident and watches him wipe blood off of his face.

Jabber doesn’t bother to stop the bleeding.

Zanka collapses on the couch and silently inspects Lovely Assistaff. Jabber writes in his notebook about the toxin he tested on the man his boss had him capture. 

Writhing in pain? Check. Glazed over eyes? Check. Hallucinations? Nope, seemed to understand what was going on.

They both want to fight more, Jabber can tell, but they both know they can’t with Zanka’s injuries. Jabber wishes he had just been strong enough to not get so hurt from one little stabbing. Then again, he has given Zanka enough poison to kill him multiple times, so maybe he should be a bit more appreciative of the survivor.

Stabbing Zanka… he never tries to poke Mankira all the way through the human body, it’s just that humans are so skinny. All the people he’s stabbed, they always bleed and bleed. It’s no fun when they just collapse from blood loss.

Mankira’s meant for slicing more anyways. She likes to slice people’s skin so that Jabber can slowly peel it back, and watch the expression on their face as he does. Pain mixing with poison to create a special kind of horror. Screams that he craves, that haunt his nightmares.

Jabber gets lost in his thoughts, scribbling never-ending circles onto the page, staring at nothing. His mind wanders to blood, poison, torture, pain, sadism, masochism, wherever it feels like. He gave up on controlling his mind years ago.

“Can we go to Canvas Town?” A calm voice snaps him out of the mud that is his headspace. Zanka’s watching him expectantly.

“What?” Jabber asks, distracted.

“I don’t have the care materials for her,” Zanka nods towards his stick. Jabber looks at her untransformed wood. She’s not good for stabbing, just blunt force. Sometimes he ends up with bruises for weeks in the shape of her prongs.

“Oh, is this cause you can’t get into Canvas Town?” Zanka raises one eyebrow, waiting for Jabber to say something. He doesn’t know what he’s meant to say.

“I can get into Canvas Town,” He offers. It seems to do the trick, Zanka furrows his brow.

“How? You’re a Raider. I should tell Remlin…”

They sit in silence for a few seconds. Jabber tries to break himself out of the funk, he can feel himself falling in, but he’s powerless to stop it. Maybe a fight would help, but somebody’s all injured and pained and can’t fight. Mankira wants to come out for real. She’s bored.

“Oh… Remlin…” Zanka says, tapping his chin.

“Hm?” Jabber asks again, doing his best to stay engaged. He stands up to get on the couch next to Zanka.

“Do you think Remlin would see me in Canvas Town?”

“Who’s Remlin?” Jabber feels like he might’ve heard the name before, but he’s not sure. There’s a lot of names out there.

“The giver of Canvas Town. They’re the one with the vital instrument that gets passed down,” Zanka struggles for descriptive words.

“It’s a’ight, I know about that,” Jabber says, and sets down the notebook, “You know the giver of Canvas Town?”

Zanka nods, staring at him. Uh oh, he’s gonna get in trouble for not paying proper attention. Sometimes Cthoni notices him spacing out in meetings, she’s never happy to see it.

He tries to add more to the conversation, thinking back to what Zanka said originally, “Uh, you could always wear a hood.” He points at the hood of his own shirt, on Zanka’s back. Zanka makes a face as he remembers that he’s wearing Jabber’s shirt.

“Or I know other towns we can go to for… polish?” He’s not sure what care materials Lovely Assistaff needs.

“I actually do want to get polish for Mankira,” Zanka immediately flushes after saying it, “Just like- to see- what she’d use. I don’t actually care.”

Jabber smirks, “Suure Zan-zan. What does Lovely Assistaff need?”

Zanka shakes his head lightly and the flush goes away, “She needs a big town with big stores. The stuff that’s best for her won’t be in a town like this one.”

“Damn, no need to diss on my home,” Jabber places one hand over his heart and makes a hurt expression.

Zanka rolls his eyes, “It’s a mess here. Why are you living in crumbling buildings anyways?”

“It used to be a lot nicer.”

“Well no shit.”

“Somebody killed the landlord of this building.”

Zanka stares at him, evidently he’s already got a suspect as to who he thinks killed the landlord. Jabber giggles.

Jabber places his head on one hand and watches Zanka as he talks, “You’re right. It’s kind of a mess. There were never amazing buildings here; we’re basically in a polluted zone.

“I moved here for the Raiders, and I’m not telling you more than that, but the town’s always been kind of falling apart. It used to be decent, then the Sphere dumped a bunch of garbage near here and it got super polluted. All the rich people moved out, and the broke ones couldn’t afford to. 

“That was a while ago though. Maybe two years ago a huge trash beast came through here and had a little fit. I killed it for them, that was before I lived here.”

“You were like a Cleaner?” Zanka inquires, his interest is piqued.

“No, I just know how to kill trash beasts,” Jabber makes a face at being called a Cleaner. Zanka looks like he wants to ask more, but he’s goal oriented and already has something he wants to do.

“So, what town would you go to if you wanted to buy something specific?”

Jabber smiles before speaking, “Well, how did you like Fukitsu City?”

Zanka groans, “The place I first found you? That place is creepy.”

“Hey I go to many places, it’s just you that only found me there,” Jabber retorts.

“And there’s not a single other city you can think of?” Zanka’s getting agitated!

“Don’t you want Lovely in her best possible state when we break into Hell Guard?” Jabber teases, deliberately pushing Zanka’s buttons. When isn’t he?

Zanka grumbles something about not breaking into Hell Guard before turning away and crossing his arms.

 “Would you rather go to Canvas Town where Gremlin or whatever can find you and drag you back to the Cleaners?”

Zanka deadpans, “Fuck you.”

“Sounds like we’re going to Fukitsu!”

That night, they take a thirty minute hike to the city. Along the way they talk about food. There’s other things they’re thinking of, but neither of them bring them up. It seems like too soon to talk about Cleaners and Raiders.

It’s even more shady than Zanka remembers, but people seem to be giving him and Jabber a wide berth. He’s able to slip through the crowds like a fish through water instead of getting caught in every little merchant’s web like a bug.

“Why’re they avoiding us?” He questions Jabber as a scared mother pulls her child  away.

Jabber smirks, “They’re avoiding you, Raider.” He tugs on Zanka’s- Jabber’s- the hoodie that Zanka’s wearing. 

“Let’s find a clothing store so you can get your stupid shirt back,” Zanka mutters.

“What?” Jabber questions, batting his long eyelashes, “You don’t like being known as a Raider? Even though you, y’know, are living with one and training with him?”

“You’re leaving out the part where I’m only doing it for the Cleaners,” Zanka mutters. 

“That why you made me miso soup?” Jabber questions with a shit eating grin. Zanka shoves him away, his fingers fall away from the hem of the jacket.

“It was real yummy too, thank you,” Jabber murmurs, stepping close enough to Zanka that his quiet words can be heard. Zanka deliberately keeps his face in a scowl.

The Raider, the real Raider that is, guides him to a big store. It looks a bit like a pharmacy, but it has a section with the stuff he wants. He grabs a soft cloth made to wipe down his staff without sanding her down, a bit of glass cleaner as a short time replacement, and forgoes the varnish as he assumes he’ll be back at Cleaner Headquarters for his biannual varnishing of his staff. He also grabs two toothbrushes. One for him, one for scrubbing Mankira.

He’s got what he needs, so he swallows his pride and turns to Jabber.

“Can I see your hands?” He refuses to add a please. Jabber’s lucky that he even feels like buying stuff for Mankira.

Jabber’s analyzing him as he sticks his hands out, he studies Zanka studying his vital instrument. After a moment, Zanka holds onto his hands to maneuver them how he wants, too lost in exploring Mankira to catch sight of Jabber looking embarrassed. His hands are warm, Zanka didn’t notice how cold he was until he was holding them.

Almost immediately, Jabber pulls his hands away. Zanka glances up to see him flustered and looking away. It’s so bizarre to see Jabber get nervous. He sticks them out again, but doesn’t let Zanka hold onto them.

Zanka interprets the reaction as fear for his jinki. He gets it, when Rudo stole Lovely Assistaff he had thought about killing the kid, ‘natural genius’ or not. Enjin had just gotten lucky he was right about the Sphereite.

He tries to push the idea of Enjin out of his head. It doesn’t bring happy thoughts.

“I won’t hurt her,” Zanka whispers. His hands feel a lot colder without Jabber’s.

Jabber makes no move to bring his hands closer to Zanka, “What polish did you want to buy for her?” 

Trust, such a delicate thing, has not been allotted to Zanka. He’s allowed to fight Mankira, to hold her claws in his teeth, but he can’t inspect her gently. Jabber had practically squirmed out of the bed when he was looking at her last night. No doubt the only reason he hadn’t was because he didn’t want one ring to get unfair treatment.

It’s a shame, but it’s not surprising. Zanka turns back to look at the shelves, and eventually picks something out. He thinks about how Mankira looks, and what polish would compliment her.

He checks out and tucks the purchased products into his bag. His intuition is telling him to cling to his bag like a hermit crab clings to its shell, but he’s given a wide enough berth by all the other people in the road that he could walk around with a blindfold on and not get anything stolen. It’s kind of nice, being a Raider. Cleaners never get this level of respect.

Not that he’s a Raider, he’s just wearing the shirt.

Jabber wanders from stall to stall with no real purpose, and Zanka quickly follows behind. He’s saved the job of elbowing people out of the way because of the shirt, it really is convenient.

Each stall Jabber picks has nasty stuff like poisonous plants, poisonous animals, poisons, or poison weapons (though Jabber only goes to that one to see if Zanka feels like branching out from Lovely Assistaff and in fact, he does not feel like branching out).

Zanka likes following his lead. He’s got weird tastes maybe but it’s sure more interesting than shopping with some of the Cleaners. Even if he went shopping with Kyouka or Goka, as likely as that is to ever happen, they’d probably be strategic and organized about it. 

Jabber roams down the street, back up, and doubles back when he sees a stall he likes. If they left a trail behind them as they go, it’d come out in nonsensical loops and turns. There’s no logic to the meandering, but Zanka can’t deny that he enjoys it.

He spots shirts in a window and starts to turn towards it. Of course, Jabber chooses that moment to get into a fight.

“Hey! Watch it dickhead!” A burly man with a large tattoo on his bald head yells. Zanka turns around to see him sizing Jabber up. It looks a bit ridiculous, he’s tall and muscular and mad, Jabber’s lean and trying to slink off to another shop. It’s probable Jabber didn’t even see him, just bumped a shoulder as he was shifting through bodies. Zanka sighs and turns away from the chance to get a new shirt. He walks over to the space carving itself out of the crowd to stand next to Jabber, unmistakably asserting himself as Jabber’s backup. Not that he’d need it in a real fight. 

He crosses his arms and mutters, “What happened?”

Jabber’s still looking over the man’s shoulder at a store while he answers, “He got in my way.” He shrugs and finally looks away from the store. Zanka can tell he’s starting to lose interest in it and gain interest in a potential fight.

“Who the hell are you?” The burly guy demands, then talks again before Zanka can respond, “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to teach you and your boyfriend some manners.”

Zanka’s blood boils at the words, he glowers at the burly man. He can see disgust on the faces around him, he can picture his family’s expressions of revulsion. He can feel Jabber stiffen beside him, before recovering and instigating again.

Jabber’s eerie grin stretches from ear to ear as he offers, “I’m down for a fight. You sure you can win?”

Mankira slips out, Zanka has to stop himself from grabbing Lovely too.

The man is infuriated by neither of them backing down. He’s probably in the right, but Zanka doesn’t really care.

A woman comes from the crowd somewhere, she grabs the man and starts pulling him backwards.

“We’re so sorry. We don’t want any trouble,” She says as she mutters to him, “Those are givers. He’s wearing a Raider’s shirt.” She points at them and she doesn’t hide the contempt in her eyes that she has for no reason. Zanka wants to give her a reason.

“He’s not even a giver, Jabber,” Zanka hisses to the side. Mankira’s reluctant to go away, Jabber’s looking quizzically at the man allowing himself to be pulled away. The edges of his grin start to tip downwards.

“Jabber,” Zanka says again, grabbing his arm. Jabber doesn’t even turn to him, doesn’t acknowledge him. It pisses Zanka off.

He yanks Jabber’s arm as hard as he can and digs in his nails. Jabber stumbles backwards a few feet, then allows himself to also be pulled away.

“Coward,” Jabber calls out to the men as they both are leaving, “Scaredy-cat! Chicken! C’mon! Fight me!” His voice sounds frenzied. Zanka’s grip on his arm tightens as he pulls Jabber forwards.

The tattoo man isn’t even a giver. Why does Jabber want to fight someone so weak?

Jabber grumbles as he gets thrown into the apartment. Zanka starts dumping the stuff they bought onto his desk.

“Why’re you being a bitch, Zan-zan?” He asks, then looks at the time. It’s around four in the morning. Oh, it’s Thursday already. Normally he’d be getting excited about Friday night, but Zanka said no to fighting then.

“Is it past your bedtime?” Jabber coos, teasingly. Zanka scowls at him.

“Why’re you being so fight obsessed?” Zanka demands. He yanks Lovely Assistaff over and starts aggressively wiping her down.

“Aww. Are you mad that I almost got us kicked out of Fukitsu?” Jabber mocks. He is actually curious. Does Zanka secretly enjoy going there?

“Yeah right,” Zanka responds.

“Don’t worry Mr. Bad Attitude,” Jabber reassures, “I’ve gotten into soo many fights there, and I haven’t gotten banned yet.” Zanka stops wiping Lovely Assistaff, and turns to look at Jabber again. His face screams annoyed.

“So you’ll fight just anybody? Giver or not?”

“Ah, you know me Zan-zan. I fight wherever the wind takes me, or something like that,” Jabber punctuates his misquoted idiom with exaggerated hand flips.

“Stop fighting them,” Zanka suggests. Boy, he does sound annoyed.

“Zanka,” Jabber begins, sure he’s getting ahead of himself, “Are you jealous?”

Mr. Bad Attitude glares at him. Does he ever smile?

Jabber grins back, “Aww Zan-zan! You can't be jealous of me fighting other people when you won’t even fight me!” He’d love to spend his energy fighting Zanka, but unfortunately somebody’s recuperating from one little stab wound.

“Fine,” Zanka aggressively steps towards him and holds up Lovely Assistaff, “Fight me. Not weak-ass losers.” He’s close enough that Jabber can hear his uneven, angry breathing and feel the hate radiating off of him.

Jabber giggles before whispering, “I’m really a bad influence on you, aren’t I?”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you,” Zanka promises.

Jabber hears Lovely Assitaff whistling through the air before he sees her, and rolls out of the way, careful not to prick himself on Mankira’s claws as he does so. The concrete cracks where he was just standing. He giggles as he hears it break.

“C’mon Zanka~” He calls as he dances out of reach for just a moment, “Kill me already!”

The two of them stay close in the parking garage. There’s not enough light to duke it out if they go far away from each other. Jabber likes fighting with the shadows separating them from the rest of the world. Just him and his dedicated Zanka, who gets jealous of him fighting other people!

He dashes forwards to slice Zanka, who parries. His arms act of their own accord, he slices, and slices, and slices again. Zanka waits until he’s drawn back for just a second to try and whack him in the leg. Jabber dodges happily.

Zanka attacks, parries, attacks, parries, and then leaves an opening! Mankira stabs in Zanka’s arm, but Jabber’s careful not to break it this time. Zanka snarls at the pain, but keeps fighting through the light dosage. Jabber loves it when he can see the drugs having a little effect, but not enough to dull that wild fire.

“Zanka! Let loose! Show me that craziness!” Jabber demands as he swipes and swipes.

Zanka jumps forwards to smack Jabber with Lovely Assitaff, succeeding in hitting his shoulder. Jabber tries to catch him in the few seconds after his attack, but he quickly pulls back and gets back into his fighting stance.

“That hurts GOOD!” Jabber cackles as he dives back into the fight. Mankira’s fully out now. She loves fighting Zanka, loves fighting Lovely Assistaff. Jabber yanks one hand through the air to send her larger claws flying into his opponent. He’d swear he can hear her laugh as she goes.

Zanka ends up crouching to avoid getting hit. Jabber pounces on the small target, and gets somehow pinned underneath. Zanka was predicting his attack!

Lovely Assitaff’s handle is pushing down on his throat and he can’t breathe. It feels amazing. He takes a second to grin before swinging his legs up to disrupt Zanka’s center of gravity enough to throw him off. 

Zanka staggers back a few feet, probably a bit dizzy from the poisons, and wipes blood off of his cheek. Jabber wonders who’s blood it is.

They throw themselves into the fight with passion. Zanka looks at Jabber like he’d like nothing more than to break his neck. Jabber wants Zanka to be strong enough to do it.

Then, there’s a chance where Zanka could swing Lovely Assistaff into Jabber’s neck and properly break it! He hesitates for just a second, and Jabber dashes forwards to dose him again, enough this time to render him unable to fight. 

Jabber questions his hesitating for just a second, then decides instead to appreciate how nice and sore he is. That was the type of fight Mankira’s been craving.

“Zan-zan~~” He croons, “You’re so good to me.” The high Zanka seems to appreciate his comment.

Warbling noises wake Zanka up, they drift in from the door. He’s in Jabber’s bed again.

He quickly stands up and gets out of the bed of another man, shuddering at the thought of how his parents would react to seeing him in Jabber’s bed.

He examines his left arm where there are two different Mankira cuts. They don’t hurt that bad, he could’ve made them a lot deeper.

Jabber’s singing something in the main room as he writes down stuff in his green notebook. Probably was out testing shit on people.

Zanka stands in the doorway for a moment and watches the back of Jabber’s head. He listens to the sounds of singing that are definitely annoying, but aren’t annoying him. It’s dumb. 

Jabber’s got a unique ability to bring out the worst qualities in him. And then, once he does, he encourages those qualities and eggs him on. If nothing else, Zanka really is getting stronger because of it.

Whether or not it makes sense, he likes living with Jabber. Obviously, he’d rather be at the Cleaners wearing Cleaner clothes being surrounded by Cleaners. But still, Jabber isn’t awful to live with.

He likes how much Jabber smiles. He really never stops smiling. Zanka thinks his cheeks would hurt if he tried to smile that much, but Jabber just keeps smiling. He’s so happy-go-lucky, even when there’s no reason to be.

He finally calls out and announces his presence, “Hey.” Jabber tips his head backwards, going until he can see Zanka. He raises one hand in response. If he keeps tipping his head backwards, he’ll probably fall over.

Zanka walks over and watches him work. Jabber doesn’t hide what he’s writing, he’s got no shame about having tested on random people. He keeps singing with his cheery attitude, even as he writes down ‘deceased’ on one of the trials.

“What time is it?” He asks after a bit.

“I don’t know. Clock’s over there,” Jabber tells him as he nods his head towards a wall.

Zanka follows his gaze and discovers with horror that it’s already noon. Half of the day is gone.

“It’s NOON?!” Zanka yells, making Jabber look up in surprise.

“What’s the problem?” He asks. Sure, he wouldn’t see an issue. Chances are this is his normal wake up time.

“You let me sleep until noon?!” Zanka demands, turning on Jabber, “What about training?!” He’s now grabbing for Lovely Assistaff and looking for his shoes. He needs to go train, immediately.

“The last thing you were doing was training,” Jabber argues. He sets down his notebook to watch Zanka with amusement.

“That’s different! That was fighting! I didn’t even properly train yesterday!” Zanka’s practically pulling his hair out.

“You also never properly cleaned Lovely. I’m really curious about what this polish is used for,” Jabber says, holding up the bottle from yesterday and examining it.

Zanka stops and holds Lovely Assistaff in front of him. In his disgust at being in Jabber’s bed, he forgot to ask her how she was doing this morning. He needs to care better for her.

“You’re right,” He finally admits. He picks up everything he bought and sits down on the couch with them next to him.

He pats the spot next to him, “Come here and I’ll show you what I was thinking.”

Jabber brings the bottle he was holding with him and plops himself down onto the cushions.

Zanka takes the glass cleaning spray he bought, makes a face at it, and squirts some onto the cloth he uses to clean Lovely Assistaff. He doesn’t spray directly on her.

“Uh, this stuff sucks. Don’t use shitty stuff like this, I’m just being cheap until I get back…” The words die in his throat. What was he going to say? Home? Cleaner Headquarters?

“You don’t have to be cheap, we can get the good stuff,” Jabber offers up his money. Probably not his money, actually. He’s probably just happy to steal something. 

“Is that buying the good stuff or…” Zanka clarifies.

“I think you know,” Jabber responds with a wink. Zanka sighs.

He shows Jabber his routine for Lovely Assistaff, but he’s perfectly aware that jewelry isn’t the same as a staff. He’d like to get another look at Mankira, but it feels like he’s gotta earn that trust first somehow.

He thinks he knows a way but it feels a bit risky, a bit vulnerable

Without a word, he slowly puts Lovely Assistaff in Jabber’s hands. He receives her gently and stares at her for a second, then looks up to stare at her giver who had just handed her to an enemy.

Zanka doesn’t know how to interpret his facial expressions. He just holds out the fabric square and nods. He’s silently saying, ‘I trust you’.

Jabber reaches out hesitantly, still staring at Zanka, and takes the cloth. He’s held Lovely Assistaff before of course, after fights when he’s lugging Zanka around, but never while Zanka’s perfectly capable of holding her and right there to do so.

Zanka watches him press the cloth to her wood, cringing internally at every difference in their techniques. 

He can’t stop himself, and reaches out to change Jabber’s hand after a few seconds. Jabber doesn’t move under his touch, only adjusts to meet his desires. When Zanka’s hands leave his, he starts wiping again. He’s gentle, more gentle than Zanka thought he was capable of.

They both stare at Lovely Assistaff for a few seconds, before Zanka sees the wood catch the fabric for a second and pulls Jabber’s hand away again.

Jabber stares at him, and waits for an explanation.

“...you need more of the spray,” Zanka manages. 

Part of him wants to yank Lovely Assistaff back and growl at Jabber like a rabid dog, but part of him likes seeing Jabber gently wipe her down. He doesn’t touch her wood reverently exactly, but he appreciates her.

Jabber appreciates Lovely Assistaff. Jabber appreciates the stick. It feels too good to be true.

This genius, whose vital instrument has multiple versions, appreciates his stick. Zanka feels breathless as he watches Jabber run his fingers over the patterns in her wood. He hasn’t even said a single negative thing about expecting another form from her yet.

“Can I see her?” Zanka questions without thinking. Jabber looks up, no smile, no frown, and holds out Lovely Assistaff towards him.

“No,” Zanka murmurs, feeling a bit embarrassed, “I meant Mankira…”

Jabber looks at his palm for a second, and stretches it out to Zanka. He looks away as he does so, but he grants Zanka access to her all the same. It’s so gratifying, to be trusted with a vital instrument. How come Zanka had never thought about this before?

When he first reaches out to touch Mankira, Jabber flinches back. Then he forces his hand back, lets Zanka hold Mankira, and refuses to move again. He stares determinedly at a wall.

Zanka bought a toothbrush to scrub dirt out of her crevices, but there is none. Nonetheless, he takes one of Jabber’s fingers and gently brushes her. When he’s satisfied, he moves on to another finger.

Jabber says nothing as he works his way through the ten rings. He starts to get into the groove. Though he knows he’s projecting his craziness onto Jabber’s jinki, he swears he can feel Mankira’s anima soften and welcome his touch.

Zanka reaches for the polish he bought, sure now that he doesn’t need it. She’s shiny, she’s beautiful, she’s never looked better. Jabber probably doesn’t even want him to polish her, he probably is only giving her to Zanka since he gave Lovely Assistaff to him.

Jabber hands him back the cloth. It’s still warm from his touch. Zanka takes it and refuses to make eye contact. He feels his face heating up, for no good reason at all.

Jabber takes a breath as if to say something, but nothing comes out. He starts to watch Zanka work.

Zanka takes a tiny dab of polish and sets it on one ring, working it around the whole circumference. Then he holds that finger out of the way out the others, so that he can wipe the polish with the cloth. Then he moves to the next finger.

An eternity seems to pass, with not a single word exchanged. Jabber keeps his free hand on Lovely Assistaff, stopping her from falling over. He could lean her against the couch, but he doesn’t. A fact Zanka notices.

The moment Zanka lets go of his fingers, he pulls his hand back at lightning speeds.

“Thanks,” He mutters to Zanka while looking in the opposite direction.

Zanka blinks, “Thanks for trusting me with her.”

Jabber nods and finally makes eye contact, “I’ve got to go do Raider stuff… Cthoni will be mad if I don’t.” Zanka nods back and watches him practically run out of the room.

When the door closes, Zanka reaches across the coach to pull Lovely Assistaff to him. There’s a warm spot on her where Jabber was holding her.

“She’s so pretty, Lovely,” He whispers, clearly talking about Mankira. Lovely Assistaff agrees. However, when he says the word pretty, he imagines long eyelashes and thick locs and scarred skin and troublesome grins…

His family would be horrified.

Jabber returns later with food and the two share a calm dinner. While Zanka’s busy sitting down and eating, Jabber gets the map of the Kamuatari District and corners him with it. Zanka only allows the discussion about how he’d theoretically break in because Jabber bought him food. He’s obviously not considering it.

They decide that later they’ll test out some stunts for the theoretical break in. Jabber phrases it as a ‘to see if it’s even possible’. Zanka pretends to believe him.

Zanka showers first and goes to bed, but isn’t able to fall asleep. He realizes how long he’s been awake when he hears Jabber climb into bed beside him. There’s no way Jabber’s getting in bed before midnight.

Jabber lies down a little too close for Zanka’s comfort, but he doesn’t know how to scoot away without being rude.

“Jabber?” He calls into the inky darkness of the room. He can’t see the popcorn ceiling like this.

“Yeah?” Jabber mumbles. He sounds like he’s already half asleep.

“Aren’t you ashamed to be sharing a bed?” Zanka questions. He knows he’s being blunt, but he wonders if it’s eating at Jabber like it’s eating at him.

“No? I like sleepovers,” Jabber comments with a sleepy chuckle. He rolls onto one side and looks at Zanka, though he can barely be made out through the shadows in the room.

“Does your family…” Zanka doesn’t know how to finish his question. What should he say, ‘Does your family also make people give public apologies for getting caught being gay?’ That’s a little bit too trauma-dumpy.

“Man, my family’s miles away. If you think this place is nasty you should see where they live,” Jabber tells him.

“So you don’t talk to your family either?” Makes sense actually, since he’s a Raider. No mother would be proud to hear about that.

“Wait, ‘either’? You’re estranged?” Jabber mumbles through eyelids that are barely staying open.

Zanka scowls as he answers, “They kicked me out after I first got Lovely Assistaff.” It’s not the truth, not really. But it’s what it felt like.

“Whaat? My town was soo happy when I activated Mankira,” Jabber’s voice gets slower and more exaggerated as he slowly falls more and more asleep.

“How’d you activate her?” Zanka questions. He can’t help it, he’s a sucker for hearing about vital instruments, and he’s particularly attached to this specific one.

“Mmm, fighting a trash beast. Defending the city and shit,” Jabber replies as his eyelids slide shut completely.

“Jabber? You awake?” Zanka asks. He realizes he’s lying on his side facing towards Jabber. When did he get so close?

“Mmhmmm. Tell you about it later. You’d be proud. It was so Cleaner-y of me,” Jabber says as he slips off into dreamland.

Zanka watches his breaths even out. Even in his sleep, there’s a small smile on his soft lips.

Jabber wakes up to an empty bed, it’s the first time he’s gotten up after Zanka. It’s a bit nice to be able to stretch out across his bed like he used to before he had to share it. Still, he doesn’t feel like lugging a new bed all the way up the stairs to his apartment just for Zanka to get to be separated from him.

He fluffs his pillow and decides to sleep a bit more. Cthoni had said yesterday that there was nothing to do for a few days, so he has all the time he wants to sleep in.

A bit through a half-formed dream of riding on the back of a flying scorpion, Jabber hears the front door click open and shut again. Zan-zan’s home.

“Hiii!” He yells in greeting, not bothering to get up from the bed. When he doesn’t get a response, he sits up to see Zanka in the main room. He’s busy talking to Lovely Assistaff and doesn’t even notice that Jabber woke up.

“Zankaaaaa,” Jabber calls through the doorframe. The recipient of his attention finally walks over to him, sitting down at the foot of the bed and holding up Lovely Assistaff.

Jabber can tell he’s been training. There’s sweat all over his body and his hair is messy, but in place. Zanka’s deliberate about pushing it back when it falls out of place. He’s always gotta look his best, always got something to prove.

“What do you want?” Zanka grumbles. He looks grumpy, but he’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for whatever Jabber wants to say to him.
Jabber grins at him, “Were you training? Trying to get better to kill me?” He giggles the last sentence, hoping he was right.

“Yep,” He crosses his arms and looks expectantly. Jabber doesn’t have much else to add, just sits and grins at Zanka.

Eventually Zanka rolls his eyes and leaves, going back to whatever boring thing he was doing before Jabber called him over. Borrrinngggg.

The rest of Jabber’s day is spent giving directions to Zanka for the city. He gives a proper tour and then quizzes on where which building is. He tries to give landmarks too, but there’s not any easy stuff to remember. Zanka’s always able to find their parking garage, that’s it.

They have lunch at a restaurant halfway through the tour. It’s fine, a bit awkward since they don’t know if the way they behave around each other is okay in public, but Jabber enjoys poking fun at someone who got self conscious so easily.

By the time they return back to the apartment to sit around and do nothing, Zanka’s very sick of Jabber and probably looking forwards to his alone time. He certainly acts that way. He does remember that he came to live with Jabber of his own accord, right?

When Zanka inevitably goes into the bedroom and pulls the door shut behind him, Jabber decides to let him be alone for maybe twenty minutes. Then he’ll go do some further ragebaiting.

He’s a bit sad that they won’t be doing their Friday night fight. Zanka’s stomach seems fine, he’s visited the doctor and got medicine and really it was just a cut in the first place, but he did just fight Jabber so he probably can’t again. Jabber leans on the window sill and watches the parking garage, wishing he was down in it waiting for a fight.

Of course, they don’t fight until much later in the night. It’s just that when Jabber’s weeks are too boring he’ll sometimes start waiting early, to hype himself up. Mankira needs more fun opponents.

Yesterday while Jabber was holding Lovely Assistaff, his rings were right up against her wood. The two of them were talking, he could feel it. There was something going on in their anima that wasn’t just normal anima stuff. Then again, he’s also been known to be a bit nutty about whether or not Mankira’s actually conscious.

Wait… are those feet in the parking garage?

Somebody’s walking around in the dust, examining corners.

“Zanka! You gotta come see this man!” Jabber yells over his shoulder. What’s somebody doing in the old parking garage? Zanka doesn’t come, probably still getting his break from Jabber. Fine, he thinks, I’ll just wait for Zanka to call to me when he notices.

Maybe fifteen minutes pass, or at least that’s what Jabber estimates. The upper body of the person gets revealed at some point, but Jabber’s got no clue who it is. There’s a Cleaner uniform, sure, but there’s also like a bajillion Cleaners. If only he had an expert in identifying Cleaners next to him instead of in his bedroom ignoring him.

The Cleaner puts a note under the rock from before just like bang-bang girl. Jabber makes a mental note to check it later. If it’s just another note threatening him to return Zanka, he won’t share it with his new roommate. If the Cleaner realizes how much his coworkers miss him, he’ll probably leave Jabber behind.

Actually, no matter what it says Jabber’s not going to share it. Nothing they say to Zanka will help Jabber’s goals.

The Cleaner eventually picks a shadowy corner and sits down. They don’t move from their spot again. It all finally clicks for Jabber.

“Oooooh,” He breathes out when he realizes, and he yells, “Zanka! Dude, you’re gonna be so mad.”

Zanka finally comes out of the room, looking energized. Probably took a nap or something.

“What?” He asks, walking over to join Jabber at the window.

“Look,” Jabber says simply before pointing. He wonders if Zanka will get it.

They both watch the Cleaner for a minute or two before the lightbulb goes off. It’s Friday evening, they’d usually be fighting in a few hours.

“You’re actually joking,” Zanka mutters, looking murderous, “Are they here to watch us?”

“More like kidnap us,” Jabber helpfully suggests, “If I had to take a guess.”

The Cleaner sitting in the corner continues to not move. It’s getting harder to deny that he isn’t just there to try and drag Zanka home. There’s no reason to just be sitting there.

“So they know about our Friday fights, the locations, and even that they’re always at night?” Jabber asks. He’s more than a little curious why Zanka, who ran away from the Cleaners because they wouldn’t let them fight, would tell them all this information.

“Semiu,” Zanka eventually grunts. Oh, right, the giver who can ‘read’ people. She’s good if she can find this much info.

“Dammmmn, they don’t trust you so much they gotta get her to read you and then pull up at the parking garage,” Jabber invites Zanka to snap. His words are deliberate, trying to bring Zanka to the edge.

Zanka’s mouth tightens into a line. His knuckles strain as he clenches his fist. Perfect, he’s mad.

“Zanka?” Jabber asks, smirking already.

“What,” He demands, in no mood for games.

“We’re doing the Hell Guard raid tonight,” Jabber tells him. He doesn’t argue.

Chapter Text

Takashi Kondo gazes over the dark scenery. He’s still feeling attentive, as the guard change just happened. He’ll be at this station for another hour.

Shadows stretch to cover the entire Kamuatari district. It’s about 1:30 in the morning, and absolutely nobody’s awake.

Takashi doesn’t bother searching for any movement. If there is any, it’s probably a trash beast. Though, there’s not a lot of trash beasts near the Kamuatari district, as they get quickly taken out by the few givers that live there. If someone’s going to be a giver there, they have to be a strong fighter to justify their pathetic codependency.

There’s no trash beasts, no wild animals, and no humans. The horizon is a jagged line of trash and ground switching out. Rays of light get thrown out from the bulbs on the side of the wall. The twenty foot wall that Takashi is standing atop. With walls that tall, nobody can break into Hell Guard. The stone has been smoothed over, there’s absolutely nothing to grip on to climb, and guards waiting at the top if they somehow make it.

Takashi thinks with such an impenetrable fortress that there’s no point to having a guard rotation, and as a result he doesn’t take his job seriously. He’s in Hell Guard because his parents were in Hell Guard. His favorite part is when they get sent to public missions and get to look cool in front of civilians, he doesn’t particularly care about protecting an already well defended city.

It’s been a few minutes since the guard change. There’s weird scraping sounds drifting up to the two guards watching over the night. He throws a lazy glance at the horizon again, but doesn’t see anyone. Maybe he should look harder, but the sound is probably just his imagination.

Takashi opens his mouth to talk to the guard next to him. 

Uhhh, what was his name? Daigo maybe, but that’s a first name. Takashi doesn’t know this guy well enough to be using first names, but for the life of him can’t remember his surname.

Eh, whatever. The scraping sounds are getting louder. The surname can be skillfully avoided if he constructs his sentence properly.

“Hey, do you hear that-” Takashi begins.

A dark form seems to be thrown over the wall and hurtles towards Daigo something. A large staff glows blue- a giver!- and smacks him over the head. Daigo crumples like a puppet with its strings cut. 

Takashi draws out his sword immediately and switches into fighting stance. The giver’s electric blue eyes turn towards him. He’s about to reach for his choker and raise the alarm when he realizes he recognizes the figure.

There was a younger brother of the current commander who randomly disappeared after making a fool of himself in class one day. Takashi had always assumed the Nijikus had him taken out for disgracing the family name, but is this the same kid?

Ok think Takashi! What was his name? Uhhhhhhhhhhh… The silhouette starts walking towards him, and raising the staff to strike as he does. Forget it! He only needs the surname!

“Nijiku?” He asks quickly. The figure pauses for only a second, before ferociously attacking Takashi with his stick.

Takashi stops himself from getting hit over the head and launches a counterattack. He lands a slash with perfect form on the left arm of the Nijiku, who dodges at the last second to make the cut more superficial than it should be. It makes sense, if this really is a former Nijiku not only would he be a strong fighter, but he’d be trained in Hell Guard fighting styles too, and how to dodge them.

He stops for just a second to look at his arm, but doesn’t even make a noise as he gets cut. After he’s satisfied he resumes attacking. A dark stain spreads on the sleeve of his shirt. Wait… is that the Raider pattern?

The kid stays silent as he attacks, his movements seem perfectly calculated. He’s never an inch out of line with his attacks. This is the kid that was the failure of the Nijiku family?

The kid lunges forwards to swing his staff into Takashi’s right arm, breaking it if he hadn’t dodged. Takashi’s hand still gets whacked and it hurts. He switches his sword to the left hand to shake the pain out of his right.

The Nijiku’s having to take a step forwards to follow through with his attack, and there’s a window for Takashi to strike. He reaches up his left arm with the sword, though it’s not his dominant hand, and tries to bring it down on the kid’s neck, blade first.

The Nijiku sends his whole body forwards to avoid getting sliced open. With the distance gained, Takashi takes the time to raise one hand to his choker. Right as he’s about to call his captain, he spots something from the corner of his eye.

There’s a second figure hauling himself over the wall. Shit, Takashi thinks, how many are there?

Taking advantage of his moment of distraction, the Nijiku kid whacks him in the back of the neck. He hits hard, it hurts like hell. Takashi falls backwards but fights off unconsciousness.

He weakly reaches one hand to his choker, and it gets stopped by a foot. The foot of the second person.

They have glowing pink eyes, it’s another giver. They reach out one long claw and pricks Takashi with it. Immediately, his mind feels like it’s slipping. It’s like trying not to trip on a wet floor with shoes that have no grip and are covered in soap.

He’s gonna be in so much trouble for letting them in.

“Good job carrying me,” Zanka tells Jabber after he’s taken out both of the guards.

Twenty feet straight up with someone on your back isn’t easy, but Zanka refuses to give any more acknowledgement than the four words.

He examines his non-dominant arm closer. It’s not that deep of a cut but it is bleeding quite a bit, it doesn’t hurt much. He rolls up Jabber’s sleeve until it bunches around the cut. Chances are it will clot up and be fine in thirty minutes. It’s just until then that he doesn’t want to leave a trail of blood behind.

Jabber stays crouched next to the guard on the ground. He’s cocking his head in that cute weird way of his as he observes their reactions. Zanka walks over and squats down next to the makeshift ninja.

After Zanka had finally agreed that they could break in that night, Jabber ran off to his closet and came back out wearing all black clothes. When Zanka questioned them, he simply got the response that they made him into a better ninja. He chose not to question it further.

Jabber notices him watching and says simply, “New poison.”

“Will he be coherent when other guards find him?” Zanka asks. The point of Jabber drugging them is to stop them from giving out information once they’re found, not to be his guinea pigs.

“Hmmmm, don’t think so,” Jabber answers, “I’m fairly sure it’s a hallucinogenic. He looks pretty out of it.” He waves a hand in front of the guard’s face, Mankira still out in her first form. Her metal catches the light as he waves her, she looks shiny.

Zanka steps away and looks up. The wall continues to climb behind the guard’s station. He’s going to have to get on Jabber’s back again. The thing is, climbing up the first section of the wall wasn’t bad because there weren’t too many people that could see them besides the guards, who weren’t really locked in. When they climb the second wall they’ll be in plain view of the other guard stations. Maybe they should climb at a different spot?

“C’mon,” Zanka mutters, grabbing Jabber by the arm and dragging him backwards. Jabber falls and has to catch himself, but doesn’t complain about the painful grip on his arm. He’s energetic and bouncing around, excited to get in more fights, probably disappointed at the ease that they had taken the first two guards out with.

They walk to the next station, where the guards are facing out and not to their side. Just makes Zanka’s life easier.

He doesn’t activate Lovely Assistaff, thinking that her bright blue glow might attract their attention. Instead he runs forwards silently to pull her around one guard’s throat. One benefit of strangling him as such is that he can’t cry out for help.

The other guard notices and before she can yell Jabber darts forwards to dose her. She slurs out a few words, but her hand never makes it to her choker. Jabber’s holding them both as he maniacially grins. Zanka still can’t believe he’s breaking into Hell Guard with him.

At some point the guard in his hands stops struggling, and Zanka lets him drop. Whether he’s actually unconscious or faking isn't important, as Mankira will render him useless either way.

Zanka watches the two guards grapple with the hallucinations and feels arms get thrown around him from behind.

“You’re so good at fighting people, Zan-zan~~” Jabber murmurs in his ear, “You should choke me out like that.”

The warm breath hits Zanka’s cheek and he’s instantly trying to pretend like he doesn’t care about the compliment. The genius really thinks he’s good?

Zanka crosses his arms and stays silent for a few moments, then, “You really think I’m good at fighting?”

Jabber chuckles, “I don’t let just anybody live with me and pay rent in spars.” Zanka doesn’t know what to make of that sentence, he’s pretty sure it was a yes though.

“Shut up,” He commands. Jabber laughs.

They walk to halfway between the stations, where they’ve got the least likely chance of getting spotted. He gets on Jabber’s back again and Mankira comes out to claw her way up the stone.

Mankira stabs into the stone, and Jabber somehow pulls himself up with one hand to stab in the next. He uses his holes as footholds, but the climbing technique looks impossible to Zanka. Makes sense that a genius can do it, though.
When he jumps off Jabber’s back again to throw himself over the edge, he can see the entire city. It’s been a while since he’s seen it from above in a long time. He wouldn’t call it nostalgic, maybe just more scary. He knows he’s not supposed to be here. Everything he’s doing starts to become very real. He’s really here, breaking in with Jabber Wonger, a Raider, in the dead of night, to steal a choker and some poison. 

He feels like laughing. Are those objects really worth risking getting thrown in Hell Guard prison? His laugh comes out more like a strangled bird, he’s sure he sounds like he’s losing it.

“Zanka?” A voice from behind asks. Right. He is not alone enough to be freaking out. If he wants to have a meltdown he can do it later.

“Over there,” He tells Jabber as he points to the academy. It’s easily the largest building. After a certain grade, the trainees get complimentary chokers. It’s something that’s been started recently, as chokers aren’t very old, but it was a necessity because of how much easier life becomes with them.

Jabber takes a running leap at the nearest rooftop and Zanka just about has a heart attack. The genius lands it, of course, and then continues his parkour course towards the academy.  

Zanka grips his hair, thinks about ripping it out for a moment, then follows him, and thank fuck he makes it to the rooftop without falling and dying. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop like he’s in a movie is a little ridiculous, but it does save him from having to attack any innocent civilians. While he feels semi bad about knocking out Hell Guards, he’d feel a lot of guilt about using his jinki on a little kid. That’s probably not Jabber’s motive for the rooftop parkour though. More likely than not, he just thinks it’s fun.

They get closer to the academy and Zanka only thinks he’s going to fall and die a couple of times. The night covers the city with shadows, and jumping like this means he’s chancing landing on what he thought was a ledge and turned out just to be a shadow.

Zanka realizes too late to stop him that Jabber’s looking at a window into a corridor of the academy and planning to jump through it. He does indeed do so, and makes a huge mess of glass. There’s not a sound from him, just the shattering of glass crunching through the night. Zanka curses and follows him through.

The two of them stand up, looking around at the hall they’ve ended up in. Memories are starting to come back to Zanka. All the halls of the academy look the same, meaning this hall could be the one where his teacher informed him he had failed a test when he was seven. Or when his sister had told him he wasn’t measuring up to Nijiku standards at twelve. Or the hallway where he was clutching the stick he chose like a lifeline, wondering how he was going to explain to his family that he thought it was a trick, he thought he was supposed to pick it.

Zanka hates the hallway.

Jabber turns to him, his face has several little red lines from jumping through the glass, and his grin is as eerie as ever. His fingers are twitching and it’s clear that he’s looking for a fight.

“Where are we?” He asks. Zanka takes a closer look, and peeks inside the classroom.

“Follow me,” Zanka bids Jabber, and starts off down the hallway. He’s got a pretty good idea of where the storage rooms are from here.

He walks faster and faster, but doesn’t want to break into a run. Running’s forbidden in the hallways. 

Zanka grits his teeth, he’s not a Hell Guard, he doesn’t give two shits what’s banned. He starts running, and Jabber copies him.

Zanka looks out the windows as he goes. He feels confident he knows where they are. At the next chance, he takes a turn towards the stairs and away from the windows. Now nobody from the outside will be able to see them. He wonders if it’s been thirty minutes, if the guards they’ve attacked at the wall have been found yet.

Two trainees’ voices echo from around a corner. Zanka and Jabber stand right at the edge, just out of view. The moment the two turn around the corner, Zanka and Jabber are on them. Zanka opts to knock out his trainee from a few feet away with Lovely Assistaff, and Jabber chooses to tackle his. He’s rewarded with getting resistance before he takes down the trainee.

His claws pierce through the recruits arms as Jabber knocks him to the ground. Still, he holds up his sword as he gets thrown and manages to put it in Jabber’s side before he falls to the ground and starts tweaking from the poison.

Jabber lets out a breathy laugh as he looks at the gash left in his midsection. Zanka feels a bit of satisfaction too. Finally, he’s injured when Zanka isn’t. It’s about time.

Zanka doesn’t wait for him to check his cut, it isn’t that bad. He starts dragging the two bodies, now also drugged with Jabber’s hallucinogenics, and puts them out of the way in a classroom. With the door shut and the lights off, there’s a low chance they’ll get discovered before classes in the morning.

“It’d be easier if we killed them,” Suggests a voice from behind him. Zanka whirls around to see a sly, grinning Jabber.

“What?” He demands. He heard perfectly, but he doesn’t believe the audacity.

“I said, it’s easier if we kill them,” Jabber repeats, grinning even wider. His eyes switch from Zanka to the two teenagers on the ground, maybe younger. Just kids going to school.

Though… he’s right. Eventually the drugs will wear off and they’ll be able to tell Hell Guard just who they saw breaking into the academy, but they can’t if they’re dead.

Wait, no, he’s not actually considering killing children. The thought is immoral, wrong. Jabber’s just bringing out the worst in him, like he always does.

They didn’t recognize him like the guard on the wall anyways. That’s who he should be killing.

“We are not killing them,” Zanka responds, “No. Absolutely not.”

Jabber sighs, “Fiiiiiiine you goody two-shoes.” Zanka scowls and pushes Jabber out of the way, pulls the door to the classroom shut behind him and Jabber, and starts for the stairs again, heading to the bottom floor.

The hallways are long and dark, and they’ve turned deeper into the building and as a result there’s no natural light. Jabber holds out his Raider lantern so they can see a little better.

Zanka instinctively takes the fastest path to the stairs, and doesn't realize until he’s already there exactly which hallway he’s about to walk through. He pauses and stares down the corridor. It’s so much longer than he remembers.

The portraits glare down at him from their wooden perches on the walls. The frames are intricate, the brushstrokes are impeccable, and the plaques are mocking him.

Jabber walks up to one of the nameplates and traces a finger across the last name. He turns to Zanka and waits for an explanation. He gets none.

“Come on,” Zanka mutters. He pulls Jabber down the hall of paintings. Generation after generation of commanders sneer down at him, sneaking in like a common thief in the dead of night.

The last names fluctuate, but there’s one name that resurfaces again and again. There’s one family, one strain of genius in the bloodline, that dominates the Hall of Commanders.

Zanka’s steps speed up throughout the hallway. He can see the stairs at the end, the goal, the thing he’s gunning for. He stares ahead, because if he looks to the side he’ll see familiar faces, and the disappointment will be too much to bear.

And then Jabber stops. Because Zanka’s grabbing his arm, he’s jerked back too. Jabber’s looking at the most recent painting. It’s also in the strain of that one surname that’s the most common in the hall.

Kyouka Nijiku. Commander of Red Horns.

Zanka’s big sister stands in full armour with one hand on her sword. She looks confident, irate, and prepared for battle at any moment. The painter perfectly captured her scowl and printed it down on the canvas. Zanka feels like wilting under her stare.

“Isn’t this your sister?” Jabber asks. He looks intrigued, by Kyouka. Because of course he would be. Of course Kyouka would meet his desire for violence better than Zanka ever could. Of course Kyouka would be the preferred Nijiku sibling; she always is.

Zanka doesn’t say anything. He feels anger bubbling up inside of him. At Kyouka, at all the Nijkus, at all of the Hell Guards. He feels a sudden hostility towards the trainees he safely tucked away in the classroom, the same ones he had defended from Jabber. Why? They’ll grow up, and they’ll make their children feel mediocre too. They’re just helping to spread the Nijiku family values. If you’re not perfect, you’re worthless.

“Come on,” Zanka says again. This time, his fingers curl tight enough around Jabber’s arm that there’s no way for him to stop and admire the paintings again.

Zanka used to dream of being in the Hall of Commanders. Now he knows better. He’ll never be a commander, or in the hall, or sit on the golden throne, or be a successful Hell Guard. Never be able to measure up to his family’s expectations.
He never will.

They reach the stairs. Zanka flies down the steps. He’s positive of their location now, he’s been in that hall enough times before to know. Fourth floor, third floor, second floor, first. 

The building has its bottom two floors underground. There’s absolutely no light here, only purple illumination coming from Jabber’s lantern. The only sound is the falling of feet on tile floors. Zanka feels unease settle over him. These basements are just like any other room in the academy, but now he’s truly trapped with dirt on all sides past the walls. Truly stuck back in time, at Hell Guard Academy.

Zanka speed walks through the meandering halls. Wall after wall, hall after hall. Every paint job is the same color. Every door is the same wood. The smell, the mother fucking smell, is the exact same as Zanka remembers. He can practically smell his desk where he’d study, study, and study. It was never enough.

He finds a storage room. If memory serves, it should have clothes inside. Zanka’s not positive where chokers would be, but clothing seems like a good starting place.

He points it out to Jabber, who had boasted of lock picking skills. It’s not surprising that a Raider like him knows how to pick locks, in fact it’s something Zanka should’ve expected. Still, he’s pleasantly surprised when Jabber fidgets with the lock for a few seconds before swinging the door open.

“Ta-da! Open,” Jabber announces with a bow. He’s so happy, so cheerful. The oppressive air that seems to be actively compressing Zanka has no effect on him.

Inside is the storeroom, just like Zanka knew it would be. There’s shirts and pants and shoes and all things uniform that one can wear, but not the chokers. They must be kept somewhere else.

Zanka steps inside to double check that they’re not kept in a box or something, Jabber steps in too, and the door clicks shut behind them.

“Turn around and keep your hands up,” Commands a voice from behind them. Zanka turns to see Yuma Furukawa holding a sword towards them. She’d been hiding behind the door they entered in, unluckily in the exact storeroom they picked. Zanka holds up Lovely Assitaff, but doesn’t activate her. Yet.

Yuma used to be his classmate. She wasn’t a natural talent or anything special, and she never tried in class. When Hyo arrived, she started copying the genius. It had always pissed Zanka off.

Jabber laughs, “Who’re you to be bossing us around? From where I am, it looks like you should be begging us not to kill you.” Mankira slips out and he raises one hand towards her. The moment his eyes start to glow pink, Yuma’s expression changes to one of hate. 

Zanka recognizes it as the same look his family gives whenever he visits them. Well, when he used to visit them. He hadn’t in a long time.

Hell Guard drills into its people that givers are pathetic, codependent, wastes of oxygen. Zanka hated himself when he first activated his vital instrument, which is funny, because it feels like Lovely Assistaff’s the only thing that’s ever completely accepted him in all his patheticness.

Lovely Assistaff glows blue and transforms. Zanka raises her higher, to point at Yuma’s head. She glares at him.

“What do you want, Raiders,” Yuma demands. The last word is coated in venom. Zanka glances down at his shirt, scowling. He forgot he was wearing the signature Raider pattern.

Zanka recovers his wits quickly, “Tell us where the chokers are.” Yuma raises her eyebrows. She definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“And the poisons!” Jabber adds cheerfully. He completely ruins Zanka’s ‘tough guy’ act. He’s way too smiley. Yuma looks baffled now, her sword lowers as her will falters.

“Why do-” She begins. Lovely Assitaff’s prongs slam her against the wall, around her throat.

“Don’t ask questions,” Zanka orders her, frowning enough to make up for Jabber’s grin, “Answer ours. Where are they?” 

Her fingers fumble at the edge of his jinki, she can’t breathe. Zanka loosens his hold just a little, enough for her to suck in a breath and respond.

“Storeroom three for both, they’re with the weapons," She answers. Zanka pulls back and her head falls forwards as she starts to cough. She looks really affected by a small attack. Zanka hadn’t meant to choke her with Lovely Assistaff, just scare her. Jabber wasn’t that weak, he never coughed so much after getting pinned to the wall for a few seconds.

Zanka steps closer, unwittingly putting his face in the light. She glances up as he does so, backing up against the wall.

“Sorry I-”

“Zanka?” She asks. Her voice is heart-wrenching. She sounds astonished. She recognizes him. She knows who he is. She’s looking at him like he’s a monster.

“You’re with the Raiders?” She questions quietly. Zanka’s eyes widen. She thinks he’s a Raider. She’s going to tell Kyouka he’s a Raider. Kyouka’s going to tell the Cleaners. The Cleaners are going to think he’s a Raider.

Riyo’s going to think he’s a Raider. Enjin’s going to think he’s a Raider.

Then what? Will Enjin hate him too?

He pins Lovely Assistaff back at her throat, and her against the wall. He’s wearing a Raider’s shirt, doing a Raider’s mission. She thinks he’s a Raider. She’s going to tell everyone he’s a Raider. His breathing is ragged.

When he chokes her again her expression morphs from surprise back into malice.

“I hate Raiders,” She hisses with the little breath that she has. Her sword comes up to go straight for Zanka’s throat. 

There’s something Zanka can do to stop it from reaching him. There’s something he can do to keep people from thinking he’s a Raider.

He pushes Lovely Assistaff forwards with all his strength. Her sword falls from her hand as she starts kicking at the air and clawing at the prongs. Zanka pushes harder.

Tears form in her eyes, but her face stays looking at him with contempt. She hates him. She doesn’t even know him and she hates him. She’s just like everyone else.

She’s probably gunning for a spot on the wall. Probably trying to be a Commander. Probably wanting to glare down at him too, from behind a pane of glass and an ornate mahogany frame.

“Do it,” Jabber eggs him on from behind. Jabber, whose shirt he’s wearing. Jabber, who doesn’t hate him. Jabber who’s seen the worst in him and still doesn’t hate him.

Zanka raises Lovely Assistaff up. Yuma’s feet lift off the ground, still kicking.

“Do it,” Jabber repeats. Zanka feels a second hand layer over his, helping to push Lovely Assitaff into her neck. She stops moving.

“Perfect,” Jabber whispers into his ear. Zanka’s breath comes out shaky, but he doesn’t relieve the pressure. They have the information they need. They don’t need her anymore.

Jabber’s incredibly close. With the violence as a cover, he doesn’t mind being pressed up against Zanka.

Her body stills, her eyes gloss over.

Jabber’s purple lantern illuminates her arms falling back to her sides. It’s the only light source in the room.

“You’re perfect,” Jabber’s breath curls into his neck. It’s warm.

Jabber thinks he’s perfect.

Storeroom three has everything she promised it would. Zanka picks out a wrist choker and puts it on. He bites the skin of his arm with his canines, until blood leaks from it. He wipes it on the choker, and finally, finally, he can communicate with people again.

Jabber sticks out his arm. He grins and nods at Zanka, communicating without a word for him to take the blood.

Zanka holds Jabber’s arm and stabs a fingernail in. He watches Jabber’s face as he rakes the nail down as hard as he can, forming a crescent shaped tear in his skin. Jabber doesn’t even flinch, just stands and grins. It’s not surprising. He’s gotten ten times worse in fights.

He pulls Jabber in closer than necessary to smear his blood on the choker. Jabber’s sharp teeth gleam up close. His eyes are glowing pink, an unnatural color in nature.

Zanka slowly looks up from his wrist, meeting Jabber’s eyes. He can feel the heat from Jabber’s breath.

He raises up his left arm with the cut from the wall guard. He smudges blood onto his right hand and reaches it out towards Jabber’s neck to smear it on his choker. Jabber stays perfectly still as the hand wraps around his throat.

He probably didn’t have to do that, as Jabber had his blood from before. He probably doesn’t need to be holding Jabber’s neck like this. Probably doesn’t need to be so close to Jabber’s face.

An obnoxiously loud alarm resounds in their ears. They both flinch at the thunderous noise. It’s coming from the hallways, it’s the intruder alarm. They know.

“Shit,” Jabber mutters. He immediately pulls away and starts scooping poisons from one shelf into his pockets.

“Wait,” Zanka tells him. He takes the poisons and puts them into his bag. It’s better for carrying without dropping any, and who knows if these poisons hurt on contact with skin.

They load all the poisons into Zanka’s bag, it takes a few minutes. There’s probably guards headed for the bottom floor as they’re wasting time and grabbing bottles. Zanka feels his heart speeding up, trying to burst out of his chest.

  They peek out the door. Nobody’s there. Must mean they don’t know which floor specifically they’re on. If Zanka had to guess, it was the guards from the wall that got discovered.

They’re able to climb the stairs to the third level before discovering lines of people going down in the stairwell. It’s other Hell Guards who look a bit older than them and ready to fight to the death. These are real Hell Guards, not trainees who’re at the academy by coincidence.

  Jabber leaps into action, and starts swiping at people with Mankira. The cuts are too deep, the dosages are too large, there’s no way they’re going to survive. Zanka tries to feel sympathetic towards them, but he first and foremost worries about himself.

He follows Jabber’s lead and starts attacking with Lovely Assistaff.

It’s amazing, the difference in fighting people before he started sparring Jabber and fighting people now. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say they weren’t even trying. Are these really adult Hell Guards?

When he hits Jabber he has to hit with twice as much force as he thinks he needs, because otherwise his hits won’t have any effect. If Jabber actually giggles after getting hit, that’s how he knows he went hard enough. So with the Hell Guards, he gives his all with every swipe, and as a result, he goes harder than most of them can take.

Lovely Assistaff’s sharp ends slice through their armour like Zanka already knows the weak spots, because he does. He knows exactly where to strike to hit the meat and not the metal. Her spikes sink into flesh again, and again, and again.

Jabber could get sliced open and still stand back up, still wanting to continue the fight. Once, he had gotten a deep gash in his neck and still, he kept fighting. The next week, he’d shown up with a funky looking scarf bandage and a more ravenous appetite for violence than ever.

The guards aren’t like Jabber at all. When Zanka cuts open their flesh, they fall down and stay down, not even dead, just weak. Zanka smirks when he knocks down people left and right. They’re not even trying. How can Hell Guards not even beat an Average Joe like him?

Honestly? It’s kind of disappointing. He’s happy he can win, sure, but they’re nowhere as fun as Jabber. They don’t force him to evolve. He beats them without even thinking about it.

Without realizing it, he starts attacking necks. It’s faster to aim for the neck, there’s less resistance that way, no armour to go around, so Zanka goes for that method. He only bruises a few necks, he slices open most.

In his wake, he leaves a trail of people clinging to their throat as blood spills down their fingers. They gurgle out blood and words mixed together. Not all the cuts are deep enough to kill. Some are.

Guards that haven’t been cut by him are simply backing away with scared expressions. The sight gives him a rush of power. He laughs at them, feeling truly free and wild.

Jabber slings an arm around his shoulder and admires the bodies on the ground and against the wall. He looks at Zanka with a bloodied and bruised face.

“Did you have fun?” He murmurs, “You looked like you did.” Zanka can only laugh in response, at the absurdity of the situation. Everything about it is ridiculous. The guards stare in fear.

“I didn’t have as much fun as I do with you. They weren’t half as strong as you,” Zanka says, grinning at Jabber. He expects Jabber to laugh back, to challenge him to a fight right there and then, to tell Zanka he wants more from him.

“You’re strong now too,” Jabber comments. His words make Zanka’s ego billow up in such a pleasant way. 

Zanka’s smile starts to hurt from how far across his face it’s spreading.

He registers pain on his body from where they struck back, but he can’t focus on it. He can’t focus on how disappointed his family would be. He can’t even focus on how close he’s standing to a man.

“Let’s go home Zan-zan,” Jabber says, leaning his face closer, his arm still attached to Zanka’s shoulders. 

Zanka wipes blood away from Jabber’s cheek and smiles, “Let’s.”

“The only scouts that haven’t responded were those that went to the second and first floor,” Goka tells Kyouka in her small wooden office.

She nods, and slowly stands up to start grabbing things from her armoire.

“They said that half of that squad were already killed by the intruders, and more are looking to go the same way” Goka further informs, “And…”

He doesn’t know how to tell Kyouka the other information he got from them. Scouts murdered, okay, whatever. But this?

“Yes?” Kyouka asks impatiently. She’s putting her armour on, getting ready to go fight the intruders herself.

“They said it was Zanka.”

Kyouka turns to look at him, to gauge if he was lying. There’s no reason for Zanka to break in. If he needs something that bad all he has to do is ask. It’s embarrassing, sure, but Zanka’s already proven he doesn’t care about embarrassing himself.

“Wearing a Raider shirt,” Goka finishes. He waits for Kyouka’s reaction, not sure what to expect.

She stays silent, gazing at their family picture on a wall. It used to be a photo of the five of them, but recently it was retaken with just Goka, Kyouka, and their parents. The four of them perfectly fill the frame, but Goka can’t help but think about where Zanka would go if he had been there when they took the photo. Would he stand next to his brother? Would he stand next to Kyouka?

He finds himself afraid of when she does start talking again. Ever since Zanka left, the worst child had been him, Goka. The worst child was never Kyouka. That meant that he had been the one to get the scoldings on being a disappointment.

Eventually, she picks up her sword and gun. She straps both to her belt. Her expression is lethal.

“Take me to him,” She commands.

Jabber’s lantern cuts through the shadows. He never really thought about the escape plan.

“Say, can we steal a car?” Jabber asks with a bubbly voice. Next to him, Zanka’s glaring gloom and doom at the walls. Somebody’s really pretending he doesn’t enjoy the break in, even though Jabber saw him smile during the fight.

Zanka scoffs, “We’re cutting it close enough.”

“But I’m gonna need more room for all the silverware I’m gonna steal,” Jabber jokes. Zanka rolls his eyes, evidently not impressed by Jabber’s callback.

“C’mon man, how’re we gonna make our getaway?” Jabber pokes Zanka’s cheek as he talks. It’s speckled with blood. Jabber giggles.

“We’re finding ano-” Zanka cuts himself off with a finger to his lips, “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t talking,” Jabber argues in a whisper. A hand gets clapped over his mouth. Damnn Zanky’s pissy.

Footsteps sound from down the hall. Zanka reaches for the lantern and tries to turn it off. Jabber has to do it himself, and makes a note to show him properly later.

He doesn’t turn it off in time. Kinda maybe perhaps perchance on purpose. He wants a real fight, the guards from before were boooriiiing.

The footsteps stop mid approach, they saw the light. Jabber turns it off with a click. The footsteps turn silent, a shadow approaches.

Zanka stares at the darkness and doesn’t move, but Jabber activates Mankira. He holds back a giggle, giving the figure a chance to be confident. Whenever he giggles too much before a fight, the opponent’s always psyched out and does worse.

Zanka’s the exception. By now, Zanka doesn’t care what Jabber does. He always fights as hard as he can. He refuses to get psyched out. Jabber doesn’t hold back anything with him.

The figure turns the corner. Whoever it is, they must be strong. They wouldn’t be out patrolling the halls alone unless they’re strong.

A wide hat can be made out from the silhouette. Jabber notices the familiar blue of Lovely Assitaff’s anima to his right. Time for a fight!

He switches his Raider lantern back on. No point pretending the guard doesn’t know that he’s there. The purple light shows a face he doesn’t recognize at all.

He propels himself off the wall and swipes. He feels the hilt of a sword slam into the gash on his midsection and throw him into the wall. Oh yeah, this is gonna be a better fight.

He gets back up and pounces on the figure again, trying to get even a tiny dose in. The figure just takes a step back to properly wind up for a sword attack. The sword gets a small cut in Jabber’s shoulder before he dances away to try and attack again.

Zanka’s standing in the background. Hmmm, that’s not good. He should join in the fun!

“Zan-zaaan!” Jabber calls in his best sing-song voice. It serves as a shock, reawakening Zanka to the world around him. The two givers descend on the lone Hell Guard with ferocity.

They take turns attacking, with one diving in when the other steps back for a second. They attack, rest, attack, rest. Jabber doesn’t like fighting with somebody else on his side, it means he’s never getting attacked properly. He should force Zanka to apologize by fighting him later.

The figure slashes his sword at Jabber’s head and cuts him across the forehead. Jabber giggles at the sting. Zanka sends a judgemental look his way.

While they’re distracted, the guard reaches for his gun and aims it at Zanka. Bang.

“Zanka!” Jabber yells. He himself doesn’t mind getting shot, but he’s not sure if Zan-zan will be okay with a bullet to the head.

Zanka turns away from glaring at him towards the bullet whizzing towards him. He dodges. 

Jabber stops dead in his tracks and his jaw falls open. Zanka dodges one bullet, then another, then another.

“ZANKA MILDRED NIJIKU YOU CAN DODGE BULLETS?” Jabber practically screams, jumping up and down with excitement. He’s gotta test this! He’s gotta get his hands on a gun and during a duel and pull it out and see if Zanka can dodge it then!

Zanka grimaces, “Mildred?” Jabber shrugs, he doesn’t know Zanka’s real middle name.

“Kyouka’s training,” The mystery figure explains. He steps forward as he fires on Zanka, who’s forced to go backwards while he dodges, “Stop resisting Zanka.” 

Zanka snarls at his voice, he must recognize it.

Kyouka… ain’t that the commander chick from the painting that Zanka hated? She had his last name, did his sister teach him to dodge bullets? Man, his family’s so cool.

Suddenly, Jabber feels a stinging pain in his right arm. He peeps blood flowing from his arm. 

“YO! NOT COOL MAN, I WASN’T PAYING ATTENTION,” Jabber yells. He raises Mankira up to prepare for another attack, then notices that the fight stopped.

The attacker is holding the sword in his left hand towards Zanka, and the gun in his right aimed at Jabber. He’s standing completely still and watching Zanka.

“Fuck,” Zanka mutters. He’s standing still as a statue, besides the rising and falling of his chest with his breaths. His head is turned towards the mystery guy, but his eyes are flipping between Jabber, the gun trained on him, and his bullet wound.

“Keep attacking!” Jabber says in surprise. He doesn’t get why Zanka and the other guy are just standing there.

“We’re going to Kyouka’s office,” The figure orders. Zanka lets out a huff and lowers Lovely Assistaff. Her anima flickers and dies, and the wooden staff returns. He looks over with emotions written on his face that Jabber doesn’t know how to read. So much is there, but it’s all going unsaid.

Zanka starts walking in a direction that’s certainly not what they were aiming for before, but also they never really had an escape plan so it’s fine.

Ooooh, Jabber gets it. They’re gonna pretend to go along with his plan and surprise attack him around a corner. Zanka probably didn’t think they could win the fight. He’s wrong, they definitely could've won, but whatever.

Well Jabber’s great at attacking people when they’re least expecting it, so he can work with this. He bounds over to Zanka, the two of them are walking in front of big hat guy.

“So what’s the plan?” Jabber whispers into Zanka’s ear. He gets shoved away, but gentler than usual.

“Is your arm okay?” Zanka asks with a gross display of affection on his face.

Jabber makes a face, “Dude, who cares.” The bullet wound hurts, he can feel his pulse in his arm, which is kind of a funny pleasant feeling. But it’s definitely not gonna kill him. Bang-bang girl gave him way worse in the trash beast and he was fine.

Zanka swallows and turns a corner. Wherever he’s going, he’s got the route memorized. Oh wait, Kyouka’s office, his big sister.

“Are we going to your sister’s office right now?”

Zanka grits his teeth and nods. He looks about as happy as a hippopotamus in a desert. Jabber’s dying to know what exactly is pissing him off so much.

The guard behind them taps his choker, “I’m bringing them to your office.”

“Thank you, Goka,” Says a cold voice. Zanka clenches his jaw at the sound.

“Who’s that? Who’s Goka?” Jabber whispers.

Zanka huffs, “That’s my sister, Kyouka. Goka is my brother.”

“Oh, shit,” Jabber blinks in surprise. His siblings are taking them in. That’s gonna be an awkward family reunion.

Zanka finds the office and pushes open the door gently, almost fearfully. He takes a step inside and breathes a sigh of relief at the empty room. His sister isn’t there yet.

Jabber stands to the right of the door after entering. He’s certain this is Zanka’s plan. Attack Goka the moment he enters.

Goka enters slowly, with watchful eyes on Zanka. He turns, looking for Jabber, and fires into the man hurtling towards him once he realizes. His aim is unsteady, as he has about two seconds to try and stop Jabber before he gets mauled.

Jabber doesn’t let a bullet wound or two stop him from attacking Goka. He sinks his claws deep into the flesh of the neck and gets ready to rip it out when he hears a yell.

“JABBER!” Zanka grabs his arm, stopping him from moving it. Stopping him from properly killing his brother.

Jabber glances up with confusion, but withdraws Mankira slowly. Zanka sighs with relief and runs a hand over his face.

“Did you dose him?” Zanka demands.

“Not lethally,” Jabber says with a shrug, “If you want I-”

“No. Don’t,” Zanka commands. He pulls Jabber away again, from the now convulsing body on the floor.

“Are you sure it’s not lethal?” Zanka questions. He starts looking at Jabber’s bullet wounds. There’s now two in his right arm, and a large cut on his left midsection where a bullet grazed him.

“Uh…” Jabber thinks for a moment, “You’d survive it.” He shrugs Zanka’s gentle hands off of him and heads for the window. He can make that drop.

“But you’ve built up my immunity,” Zanka argues, coming to rest beside him at the window.

“Look, don’t worry about that bore,” Jabber says, “We’ve got a choker and new poisons to test!” Zanka doesn’t stop frowning. Jabber likes how his weird eyebrows look when they’re creased.

Zanka’s eyes trail from Jabber’s face to the wall behind him. His frown turns to just an expression of hurt, and Jabber looks over his shoulder to try and see what’s making him so sad. 

Zanka walks over and rests a hand on the pane of glass above a photograph. There’s four people, one of them’s the red haired sister Kyouka!

The younger male looks like… Jabber glances over to Goka on the ground again. Oh, it’s a family photo. One without Zanka in it.

They wait for a second as Zanka observes the photo. He’s clearly upset by it, but Jabber doesn’t know how to comfort sad people. Emotions aren’t really his forte.

The four other members of his family gaze down at Zanka. He looks up at them. The photo’s set high on the wall, at an angle where anyone would have to crane their neck up to see.

“Zanka,” Jabber calls out from a few feet behind him, “Get on my back. Let’s go down the window while your brother’s out of it.” He gets no response.

He walks forwards to take Zanka’s arm that hangs down at his side, and pulls him back to the window. The distracted man doesn’t put up much of a fight.

Jabber climbs out the window and uses Mankira to stick to the wall. He holds out a hand to help Zanka to get on his back, holding back a flinch from the pain.

Zanka does grab his hand, but then says, “Look at this. You can’t be climbing using Mankira, you’re gonna fuck up the wounds more.” He gestures at the bullet wounds.

Jabber yanks his arm back, “Whatever you say Zanka.” He lets go and falls maybe twelve feet straight down. His ankles give a half-hearted attempt at being in pain, but he pays them no mind. Zanka’s head peeks out the window.

“Are you an idiot!” He hisses. At least, that’s what Jabber thinks he hisses. He’s too far away to hear properly.

“C’mon Zan-zan!” Jabber cups his hands around his mouth as he yells. It’s a lot louder than he needs to be, but it’s funny to see Zanka panic.

Once they’ve both got to the ground, Zanka finds a car. Jabber hotwires it for the two of them, and they’re headed off.

When they get in the car Zanka starts staring at the windshield without any real conviction.

“What did we just do?” He asks slowly. Jabber laughs in response.

The car kicks up dust as they leave the Kamuatari District behind.

“Ready to go home?” Jabber asks with a grin as he bleeds over the nice Hell Guard leather.

“Home sweet home,” Zanka responds as he puts his face in his hands and groans.

Chapter Text

The stupid Hell Guard car has air filters and shit that mean even when Jabber drives through a polluted zone, Zanka and he don’t get a hit of that lovely lung stinging sensation. He rolls down the car windows so that some of the polluted air can get in anyways.

The cars with actual Hell Guards inside of them had veered away from following as soon as they entered a polluted zone. Probably didn’t think chasing them was worth it, as the only things stolen were chokers and poisons. Or maybe they just didn’t want to get killed. Jabber doesn’t really care.

Zanka, who’s busy having a panic attack or something in the passenger seat, sits up when he notices the windows being opened to let in a polluted gust of wind. Jabber exaggerates taking a deep, happy breath of the air.

“Roll it up,” Zanka grumbles, “We’re injured enough.” Jabber debates doing as he says, then decides ‘nah, that’s boring’.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Zan-zan. I’m doing just dandy,” He responds. Zanka scowls at his arm, or more specifically at the bullet wounds in his arm.

“You have to properly treat those when we get home,” Zanka tells him, nodding at the wounds on Jabber’s right arm. 

One hand reaches to touch the small entrance wound, a bloody circle visible underneath the fabric of the sleeve. Zanka flips his arm over and looks to see if there’s an exit wound. One bullet had exited his arm, one is still lodged in his flesh. Zanka makes a face at the gore.

Jabber doesn’t like how tenderly Zanka’s holding his arm, and yanks it back aggressively. He pulls the sleeve down to cover everything again.

“I’ll do what I want,” He mutters. The car swerves around a broken down fridge he almost hadn’t seen. In his defense, it’s really dark out. He wonders what time it is.

Zanka sighs at his defensiveness and crosses his arms across his chest. He watches the trash on the horizon for a bit.

“I can clean it for you,” He offers eventually.

“You know how to clean bullet wounds?” Jabber asks. He’s not really surprised, he’s just searching for something to say other than yes or no. He’s not yet sure if he wants Zanka to clean his wound.

Zanka nods, “I’ve got lots of practice in it, too. So you don’t gotta worry about if I’ll do it proper.”

“Is it from your sister shooting at you?”

Zanka whips his head around to stare at Jabber and demands, “How do you know that?”

Jabber shrugs, “Your brother said so.” Zanka slouches down in his seat and rubs his eyes. Jabber glimpses his hair get all messed up against the headrest. It’s kinda cute.

“Yeah,” Zanka eventually responds, “My sister taught me to dodge bullets by shooting at me. I know how to clean bullet wounds because of it.”

Jabber grins, “Can I try that out on you sometime?”

Zanka scowls in response, “No way. You’d aim for my neck.”

Jabber laughs, “Hell yeah I would. You could dodge it though!”

“Nah, I only dodged Goka cause he wasn’t actually trying to kill me. You’d try to kill me,” Zanka points an accusatory finger at Jabber, “I’m out of practice. Kyouka hasn’t trained me in literally years.”

“Yeah,” Jabber shrugs, “But you wouldn’t die.”

Zanka glares at him, “What makes you so sure?”

“Cause that’d be boring. You’re not that boring,” Jabber says simply.

After a few seconds he looks over, waiting for a reply. Zanka’s furiously fighting off a smile, staring intently out the window.

“Awww Zan-zan,” Jabber says, “Do you like a little praise?” He reaches over to ruffle Zanka’s hair teasingly and somehow doesn’t get pushed away. Zanka continues to stare out the windshield, not giving any indication as to whether he likes or hates the touch.

Jabber feels awkward almost immediately and pulls his hand back. He focuses on steering. He’s not entirely sure which direction he’s supposed to be navigating in anyways.

He tries to think of something to say but his mind’s pulling a blank. He had expected Zanka to push his hand away, he’s not really sure what Zanka’s thinking that made him decide not to.

“My sister used to aim for my neck,” Zanka eventually volunteers.

Jabber latches onto the topic, “But she never got you?” Since Zanka’s still alive, his sister probably never succeeded.

“One time she did,” Zanka says as he sighs. He pulls his hair off of the back of his neck, where there’s raised scar tissue stretched horizontally, partially across the nape. 

Jabber reaches a curious hand out to feel the keloid. Zanka immediately blushes when he feels the weight on his nape and swats Jabber’s hand away.

“Don’t touch necks like that,” He says, and looks away in a pitiable attempt to hide the blush on his face.

“So why aren’t you dead?” Jabbeer questions. Zanka takes a deep breath before beginning his story, there’s a certain air of mystery about it. Ooooh, maybe he did die!

Jabber cuts him off before he even begins, “Did she kill you and you came back as a zombie?! Is that why you’re so grouchy?” He means to yell the words, but with his sleepy demeanor his words lose their ferocity and the joke just becomes that, a joke.

He meant to annoy Zanka, but instead, Zanka laughs. 

It’s a bright and cheery sound. After getting caught training with a Raider and running away to live with that Raider and a Hell Guard raid, he’s still laughing, happy and free.

Jabber smiles softly at the sight.

“You’re stupid,” Zanka says with no bite to the insult. His voice is unusually affectionate and soft. His words contrast the warm, fuzzy feeling that Jabber’s got in his stomach. He focuses on driving in a straight line and not his emotions.

It’s too sweet. It’s gonna give Jabber a toothache.

“I’m not a zombie,” Zanka begins, with a smile audible on his lips, “She didn’t start by aiming at my neck, obviously, or I would’ve died. The first time she aimed at my neck I barely dodged in time, and got the scar.” His hand goes up to lightly touch his neck.

“You should train me,” Jabber says happily. He’s having nice visions of Zanka shooting him.

“To dodge bullets?” Zanka raises an eyebrow, “Don’t you have an evil sister who can try and kill you instead?”

“I think all my evil sisters are too young for guns,” Jabber says. He considers it for a second. Vere would probably be smart and calculated with a gun so it wouldn’t get taken away; Tylin would probably kill someone for fun, not caring if the gun got taken away. Avleen would be mad if he gave a gun to any of them.

Zanka yawns, sleepy from the late night, and turns in his bucket seat to face Jabber. Adjusting his seatbelt to quit being a bother as he does.

“You have sisters?” He asks.

“Duh, I got a family. You should meet ‘em sometime.”

Zanka smiles, “I’d like to.” He rubs his eyes

It’s weird. Jabber expects him to say that he doesn’t want to meet the family of a Raider, or that he’s met enough sisters for a lifetime, or just that he doesn’t want to do anything Jabber wants him to do.

Zanka’s just full of surprises.

“Yeah,” Jabber eventually murmurs out. He doesn’t look over again, but he bets Zanka’s asleep. It’s probably twilight hours. 

A term comes to mind: nautical twilight. He’s not sure if it’s right.

“Catch up on your z’s, Zan-zan,” Jabber tells the sleeping mass beside him.

Zanka feels warm fingers shaking him awake. His eyelids flutter open to the sight of neon faces spray painted around him.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and sits up slowly. Cuts and scrapes he got from the break in lightly protest. The luminous eyes watch him from the concrete walls.

“Jabber,” He begins sleepily, “Are we in the parking garage?”

The driver nods, and cuts the engine. Ah, engine. Zanka should find a different word for that.

“Don’t park here. Motor might find us,” Zanka tells him. Jabber gives him an expression of confusion, and he realises that he mixed up his words.

“I mean, if the Cleaners come back again they’ll see the Hell Guard car and that it’s got blood on it and then they’ll realize they should talk to Hell Guard and Hell Guard might tell them I was with you,” Zanka explains quickly. 

It’s really embarrassing to be mixing up the words Enjin with engine and then engine with motor, for reasons he can’t explain. He’s groggy.

“What I’m taking away from that sentence is that you don’t like being seen with me?” Jabber teases, but it comes out as a question.

Zanka turns to look him dead in the face, and thinks about it honestly.

“I guess so,” He eventually responds. Jabber nods in an unaffected manner, and backs out to find a different place for the car.

Jabber eventually parks near their apartment building, and they start in. As they go, Jabber reaches into Zanka’s bag to take a look at the poisons. He jumps at the hand and Jabber snickers.

He uncorks and sniffs a small vial, and says, “I would swear on Mankira I’ve seen this one before. You’re sure Hell Guard has their own spial potions?”

“Yeah,” Zanka pulls out a different vial, “Try them all before you start judging. Even Hell Guard will go with the good old classics like arsenic.”

“I like arsenic. Y’know it’s a poison but do you know it’s also an element? You never hear about sodium being used as a poison.”

Zanka nods, “Yeah man, I took chemistry too.”

Jabber looks over and smiles. Zanka can’t help but notice how nice and long Jabber’s lashes are. Which is dumb.

 When they finally arrive back at the apartment, Zanka takes off his bag and dumps it on the table with Jabber’s toxin stuff. The glass vials clink around inside of it.

He opens it to check that no bottles broke, and is greeted with the sight of poison after poison that he’d never be allowed to touch back in the academy.

Now that he’s staring at the bottles, a weird feeling is bubbling up inside of him. They really did it. They really broke into the Kamuatari District and got away with it.

A laugh escapes his lips, and one hand comes up to cover his mouth in embarrassment. He can’t help it, he laughs more, and then more.

Eventually Jabber’s giggles join in. He sounds close behind Zanka, who doesn’t bother turning to confirm whether or not he is. They both convulse with quiet laughter, and Zanka questions if he’s losing it.

Jabber’s arm reaches around Zanka’s waist to grab a poison, he holds it up to inspect, still giggling lightly.

Zanka turns around to face Jabber, leaning back against the table. Jabber’s body is close to his, his face is less than a foot away. He is really pretty.

Jabber sets down the bottle, his arm is now up against Zanka’s waist. Zanka tears his gaze away from the face in front of him to the blood that’s getting on his pants.

“Go get your gauze,” He commands. The warmth radiating from the body in front of him disappears for a second, and Jabber returns after a few seconds with his cheap gauze and some tweezers.

“Sit down,” Zanka instructs. Jabber sits on the chair and leans back against the table, looking up to make painfully intense eye contact. Zanka notes how quiet and compliant he’s being. It’s offputting.

Zanka grabs his arm and makes sure not to be gentle, since he’s made it clear he hates tenderness. He pushes the long sleeve up to get to the arm with nothing in the way.

The wound with the bullet still lodged in it has stopped really bleeding, now just oozing blood a bit.

“How aren’t you woozy from blood loss?” Zanka asks as he maneuvers his tweezers between the layers of skin.

Jabber grins at him, “I’ve lost more blood than this from testing new poisons.”

“Is that supposed to impress me or something?” Zanka responds, “Hold still.”

He finally feels the bullet wedged in the muscle. He pries open the tweezers, forcing the muscle apart, and tries to clamp down on the metal to pull it out.

Jabber lets out a shaky breath, but doesn’t stop grinning up at Zanka. He does stay absolutely still, though he probably would enjoy if his arm muscles were torn apart.

Zanka scowls as he pulls the bullet out. Jabber inhales softly when the tweezers leave his arm.

Zanka could praise him for not moving or making too much noise, but he doesn’t feel like it.

“Quit smiling,” He tells Jabber, “You look like a freak.” He reaches for the gauze to wrap up the wound.

Jabber’s smile grows even wider, “I can’t help it Zan-zan~”

“You’re really enjoying this,” Zanka mutters. He wants his words to sound disgusted, by everything about the situation, but even he can hear amusement slipping into his tone.

Jabber opens his mouth to say something else, so Zanka grips the wound tightly and starts to bind it with the gauze. Jabber’s words are cut off with a small gasp. Zanka unintentionally made it start bleeding again, his wrap job being far too tight. 

Maybe it’d help if someone wasn’t so cheap though, he thinks. The gauze he has to use is probably the lowest quality he’s ever seen.

His hand drifts up to touch the cut on Jabber’s forehead from Goka. It’s not bad really, just bleeding enough to look scary. He considers putting gauze on it, but it’s already stopped bleeding. 

Jabber’s eyes are following his hands every movement, like a dog watching a rabbit.

There’s scrapes all over his body from fighting, some look like they’re from that night, some could be a few days old, Zanka wouldn’t be surprised. Most of them aren’t deep enough to warrant gauze, but he still inspects them all.

His hands trail down to the cuts on Jabber’s torso. He’s wearing all black, still in his ninja getup. The black fabric of the shirts stained with blood in places. Zanka can reach all of the cuts as is, but he could reach the cuts a lot easier without the fabric in the way.

Unconsciously, his hands fidget with the torn fabric around a cut on Jabber’s shoulder, who smirks up at him.

“Did you want me to take it off?” He offers. He leans in just slightly to put his face closer to Zanka’s as he waits for a response.

“No- I didn’t,” Zanka splutters. He blushes and starts to turn away. Jabber leans back with a huff. He’s probably boring Jabber.

“It would,” He says cautiously, “Be more convenient if you took it off.” Which is technically true. Or at least it would be if Jabber’s wounds really needed gauze, which they don’t.

Jabber waits for Zanka to make eye contact with him again before slowly reaching down to the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head.

While Jabber’s view is obstructed, Zanka lets himself look at the bare chest. There’s scars scattered all over, and cuts that also look like they could be anywhere from an hour old to a week old.

His gaze travels down towards the large gash in Jabber’s side, also from Goka’s gun. That bullet had grazed the side of Jabber’s stomach, leaving behind torn skin and a nice flow of blood. It might be the only cut that could actually use some gauze.

He looks to the center of Jabber’s stomach, the place where there seems to be the least amount of cuts. There’s still plenty of scars though. And a line of hair that’s-

“Zanka,” Jabber smirks, “Whatcha lookin’ at bud?”

He tries not to blush and mutters, “How beat up you are. Why’d you let them slice you up so much, you could’ve dodged.”

Jabber shrugs, “It’s more rewarding.” Zanka doesn’t even question what he means by that. He just scowls and reaches for Jabber’s upper arms, where there are a few cuts scattered around.

Jabber keeps talking, “I mean, they can’t beat me black and blue like you, Mr. Bad Attitude.”

Zanka rolls his eyes. The cuts on his arms are mostly superficial. There’s one that’s deep enough and still bleeding that he presses a wad of gauze to it and continuously applies pressure. Jabber lets out a satisfying breath when Zanka presses down hard on the cut.

“Nobody beats me up as good as you,” Jabber continues.

“You’re the one that wanted to break into Hell Guard,” Zanka reminds him as he lifts his chin to look at his neck. There’s nothing deep there either.

Jabber lets himself be easily manipulated by the light touch and lifts his face to gaze at the ceiling. The habitual grin on his face has been replaced by a slight frown as he feels the careful handling on his opened skin.

“You got my hopes up,” He says softly, “You’re too fun to fight.”

Zanka pauses, his hand rests on the Adam’s apple. He can feel it vibrate when Jabber talks. Jabber moves his chin back down to make eye contact with Zanka.

“They’re not as strong as you,” Jabber says.

Jabber thinks he’s strong. It’s something he’s been reiterating all night, and yet it affects Zanka like it’s his first time hearing it.

The confirmation makes everything seem worth it. It gives value to the messed up journey Zanka had to take part in. He spent his entire childhood at Hell Guard and never felt accomplished, he spent years with the Cleaners and still felt like he had something he had to do. After one week with Jabber, he felt improved.

His blue eyes scan the red ones for any hint of irony or satire, but there is none. Jabber genuinely thinks of him as strong.

“Shut up,” Zanka eventually manages. His hands move down to a cut on Jabber’s shoulder that looks deeper. He thumbs it gently to try to get a better look, to try to ignore the way Jabber’s watching him.

His touch is too gentle, and Jabber squirms underneath it. He doesn’t know what to do with genuine care.

“Zanka, at least make it hurt or something,” He asks, shameless. It’s kind of funny, to see how easily he gets bothered.

Zanka smirks, and complies. His thumb presses harder into the cut, pushing his nail into the clotting blood. Jabber’s small breaths through his nose are audible, and Zanka makes sure to press in hard enough to keep them that way. Jabber’s enjoying the pain that anyone else would dislike.

Zanka isn’t sure why, but it sends butterflies straight to his stomach.

He observes carefully, curiously. Jabber mirrors the action and watches him. His breathing evens out. Its memory fades from Zanka’s ears, and he wants to hear it again.

He brings his left hand to caress a deep gash on Jabber’s side, it’s still bleeding. Jabber’s eyes follow the movement. He lets out a small gasp when Zanka stabs his fingers into the gash on his side.

Zanka can feel himself growing greedy. He digs his fingers in, to cause Jabber more pain and to hear more of his pretty little noises. 

Jabber fucking moans when nails scrape the inside of his flesh. Zanka examines every expression he makes, noting every detail of how he looks.

It’s probably not helping to bandage up the wounds, but Zanka likes seeing Jabber so happy from pain.

Jabber’s head tilts forwards, his eyes flutter closed in bliss. 

Zanka’s right hand changes from his shoulder to his chin, forcing his head back up.

“Eyes on me,” He commands. Jabber’s all too happy to oblige, eagerly looking through his long lashes to make eye contact with Zanka, who slowly leans in as he drives his left hand in further. Jabber’s loving it, grinning like crazy at bleeding. Surely not normal, but Zanka can’t bring himself to care.

At a particularly mean twist, Jabber can’t help himself and whimpers, “Zanka-” It turns into a sharp breath as he feels every little nudge from the fingers.

Zanka’s fucking obsessed with the way the other said his name. At the way he whimpers. Zanka watches every little twitch he makes, and smirks at his pain.

Their eye contact never breaks as Zanka leans in even further, pressing their foreheads together.

Jabber’s warm. His lips are slightly parted. Zanka’s thumb reaches up to ghost over them.

Jabber looks directly at the lips across from him, and Zanka can’t help but lean in the rest of the way to close the gap.

He knows he’s being rash and rushing, he knows this isn’t helping him get stronger in the slightest, but Jabber already said he was strong. And he’s making the man that almost killed him fall to pieces underneath his touch, isn’t that strength? He can’t get enough.

And anyways, Jabber’s eagerly leaning in to the kiss too, so Zanka’s not alone in his rashness.

After a few seconds Zanka scrapes his nails across Jabber’s wound again, using Jabber’s open-mouthed gasp as a chance to slip his tongue in. He finally closes his eyes, using his hand on Jabber’s chin to force his neck into what is no doubt an uncomfortable position. Zanka loves the idea that his neck might cramp in protest and that there’s nothing that he can do about it.

Jabber doesn’t let anything surprise him, and his hands come to grip Zanka’s back, pulling him in deeper. He takes control of the kiss quickly, and starts sucking on Zanka’s tongue as unforgiving fingers dig into his cuts.

The sensation of Jabber sucking his tongue feels vulgar and sexual and gross and amazing, and it causes Zanka’s fingers to curl tighter, tighter, tighter. He feels blood start to seep onto his fingers, coating them.

He pulls back, maintaining eye contact, and brings one blood covered finger to his mouth to lick it off.

Jabber lets out a breathy giggle, “Damn, Bad Attitude.”

Water runs down Zanka’s back as he stares at the tiled walls of Jabber’s shower. The lukewarm streams erase bloodstains from his body. He raises one hand to watch the blood drain off his fingers.

The scents of his old Hell Guard home are washed off too, with only the smell of lemon soap remaining.

It’s cleansing. He’s getting rid of everything but Jabber’s scent.

He learned over the past week that his roommate/sparring partner/who knows isn’t actually as smelly as Zanka had thought he was.

Most of Jabber’s stink comes from the weird shit he keeps in his apartment, like the rotten egg smell from the sulfur powder. His bed doesn’t smell as bad as the actual person, meaning the stench is just a concoction of the things around the apartment.

Zanka’s noticed that when he sleeps next to Jabber, he smells lemon. The lemon soap that Jabber keeps in his shower, that Zanka’s currently using.

It’s disgusting really. Sharing a bed with another man. Sharing soaps. Smelling the same as another person is just embarrassing. Zanka can’t say exactly why, but he wouldn’t want Riyo to know he smells the same as Jabber.

He leans against the wall and closes his eyes, reminiscing. He misses Riyo.

If Riyo was here, then he could talk with her about all the awful things he had just done. Maybe Riyo would agree it was unforgivable, or maybe Riyo would say it was fine. Zanka thinks she’d say one thing, then his brain convinces him she’d say another.

Riyo would be excited he was kissing someone, but disappointed that it was a Raider. Zanka frowns, he’s thinking in past tense. He’s happy to be training with Jabber, but he’s not ready to just leave the Cleaners behind yet either.

But fuck, there are so many things wrong with that sentence. He shouldn’t be happy to train with Jabber, he shouldn’t be training with Jabber, he shouldn’t ever be ready to leave the Cleaners, and he really shouldn’t even have been at the Cleaners in the first place.

His family had been disappointed when they learned he was joining the Cleaners. Now they know he’s with a Raider, stealing from them, fighting their people.

Killing their people. Zanka had killed someone.

He curls a fist around his hair and tries to calm his breathing. Sorting out his emotions in the current moment feels impossible.

If he let himself be honest, it was probably more than just Yuma Furukawa that he had killed. He hadn’t exactly been careful when fighting to avoid killing people. That was something that Hell Guard would be proud of, if only he wasn’t doing it to their own people.

He feels a bit bad for getting blood on Lovely Assistaff’s metaphorical hands, but if she’s really a piece of his soul then she already had blood on her hands. After all, that wasn’t the first time Zanka had killed someone. It had just been the first time in years, he hadn’t been expecting it.

A person that doesn’t seem affected in the slightest by killing people is Jabber, no surprise there.

Jabber the Raider. Jabber the murderer. Jabber the crazed maniac, and yet Zanka never himself calls Jabber crazy. Why not? He probably is.

Then again, Zanka’s living with him. If he’s gonna call Jabber a crazed maniac, he might as well lump himself in too. Kyouka would certainly call him crazy if she knew that he had kissed a man.

He can see his family’s expressions of disgust and hate. They would never accept a homosexual son. They had cut him out of the family photo just for leaving them.

Zanka laughs, and it sounds pained even to him. He hadn’t expected to see Kyouka’s office, but if he had had to guess, he would’ve thought she’d keep the photo with him in it.

Guess not.

If they knew, Zanka would get disinherited. Again.

If he gets disinherited by everyone else, then can he just officially live with Jabber?

But he doesn’t want that. He wants to go home to the Cleaners eventually.

But Jabber actually improves him and forces him to get stronger.

Sure, stick with the homosexual that kissed him. Nothing bad could happen there.

It’s not like Zanka wants to kiss him again. Well, maybe.

Zanka feels nauseous. He falls to his knees and tries to stop himself from throwing up by taking deep, steadying breaths. He really thinks it’s okay to kiss someone of the gender? 

It’s disgusting, It’s gross, it’s horrific, it’s repugnant, abominable, revolting, offensive, foul, nasty, repulsive, sickening, and just plain wrong.

Zanka slams a hand over his mouth to stop himself from throwing up. He kissed a guy. Disgusting.

A Raider, the enemy of Cleaners. A man, the same gender as him.

Zanka blinks back tears as a memory suddenly forces its way to the forefront of his mind. It’s a familiar one, a haunting one.

Two female Hell Guards are giving an official apology after being publicly outed as being in a relationship. 

They were four years older than Zanka and were celebrating their graduation at a party. The party was already a bad enough idea, but teenagers in Hell Guard had learned after decades and decades how to throw a party without getting caught.

Zanka hadn’t gone, it was one of the many times Kyouka was training him to be a better soldier, but he later overheard his parents talking about the disgusting scandal at the party.

Now that he thinks about it, a lot of his free evenings were spent nursing wounds Kyouka had given him in the living room. He’d sit and overhear his parents talk and talk, and he had the fortune of learning what was and wasn’t okay from it.

Goka went to the party with their parents’ consent under the thin guise of making sure nothing happened. He just got lucky that there had been people to catch. Their parents were a rare exception that allowed their children to go to parties, they thought it was a good exercise in resisting temptation, and a good way to keep an eye on the other unruly children. Their children only had to be completely transparent, down to every last detail.

When Goka got home he relayed his story with repulsion, ashamed to even tell their parents what happened.

The two girls had graduated somewhere around the upper middle of their class, they were strong but nothing notable. Their grades were decent and their fighting skills were acceptable for Hell Guard. Nothing that would’ve ticked the higher ups off that they were homosexuals.

Goka went to the bathroom, and saw the two girls exit holding hands and laughing.

That was it. They hadn’t been caught kissing, hadn’t been caught swapping saliva, and certainly hadn’t been caught messing around with each other’s cuts that they were supposed to be bandaging. They had been holding hands.

Since there was no real evidence for homosexuality, and no proof that they had done anything, they weren’t kicked out of the Hell Guard. The weaker girl was moved down a unit to where she’d never see the other again, and they both had to publicly apologize at an academy assembly. After their apology, Zanka’s father had gotten up to give a speech on the dangers of teenage love and unnatural relationships. 

So if his parents had seen any of what Zanka just did, it wouldn’t be dramatic to say he’d never see them again.

Not that Zanka minds that. He had long since gotten used to not seeing his family, and he’s happy with just the Cleaners as his family. 

That’s assuming that the Cleaners wouldn’t also be disappointed in him, which is something that Zanka doesn’t even want to think about.

He knows Enjin hates Jabber. It hurts because Enjin’s his mentor that he respects so much, but Enjin just doesn’t get how this is going to make him stronger in the long run. The Cleaners had their chance to try and make Zanka stronger, but they weren’t fully upgrading him.

Hell Guard would advise him to do the same thing. If he wasn’t meeting his potential, he should search somewhere else.

Zanka doesn’t know whether or not he wants to meet Hell Guard expectations. He can’t explain why they’re surfacing so suddenly in his mind again.

Eventually Zanka’s shower turns cold and he finally decides to get out. He slowly pushes off the ground and prepares to leave.

He puts on Jabber’s Raider vest once more for pajamas and his Cleaner pants, the irony not lost on him. He doesn’t bother to buy different clothes for pajamas. Jabber sleeps in his day clothes and Zanka doesn’t even care about dirty sheets anymore since he’s living in the home of a Raider that’s obsessed with poisons and enjoys pain.

He’s afraid to leave. He knows he took a long time in the shower, and he doesn’t want Jabber to find out the reason why. He also doesn’t want Jabber to try and kiss him again. He honestly wouldn’t mind if Jabber just isn’t there.

Slowly, Zanka opens the door to be greeted with soft night light illuminating the scene. Jabber’s not clinging to the ceiling like a spider waiting to pounce, but instead already unconscious on the bed.

Zanka walks over and almost brushes a loc out of the way to see his sleeping face better. His hand freezes just a few inches away from Jabber’s face. 

What is he doing? 

That’s wrong. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. He can already picture the shame he’d bring to his family.

He stops himself from reaching out to Jabber and gets into bed a bit further away than he would usually. He tries not to think about kissing a Raider, another man.

He can tell Jabber’s awake, but neither of them reach to close the distance between them. It makes sense. Jabber never initiates anything but violence.

Slowly, the two of them drift off together into an uneasy sleep.

By the time morning light is seeping in to bathe Jabber with a golden haze, the two of them have somehow shifted into a more intimate position than would ever have happened with them both conscious. Jabber lies on his side and curls one arm around Zanka’s waist and the other around his neck, his legs tangle with Zanka’s. 

Zanka lies on his back and has one hand in Jabber’s hair, his other hand is on Jabber’s arm that’s across his waist. Jabber’s head is tucked into the crook of Zanka’s neck, and Zanka’s head is pushed up against his.

A soft buzzing wakes Jabber up, and he pulls away the arm over Zanka’s stomach to rub at the sleep in his eyes. Zanka wakes up when he feels movement, and the two of them immediately pull away from their cuddling position. Jabber answers the choker call with groggy movements.

Zanka tries not to let how they had been sleeping bother him. He doesn’t want to have a mental breakdown first thing in the morning. He doesn’t really succeed though.

“Yeah?” Jabber asks with a morning voice. Zanka finds the different sound adorable, then frowns and takes the thought back. Jabber’s not adorable.

“Jabber. Wonger,” An angry voice resounds through the room. Jabber immediately sits up and starts rubbing the sleep out of his eyes much more frantically.

“Ummm, yeah? Something wrong, uh… Cthoni?” He mumbles.

“Let me get this right, you kidnap a Cleaner, you dress him up in Raider clothes, and then you make him attack Hell Guard?”

Jabber and Zanka frown at each other for a moment. When she puts it like that, it really sounds bad.

Zanka clears his throat and clarifies, “No, I didn’t get kidnapped.”

“Zanka? You… went with Jabber of your own free will?” Cthoni asks incredulously.

“Yeah it’s…” Zanka trails off with no good explanation, “It wasn’t a kidnapping.” Jabber watches him as he says this and he feels his face flush for no good reason. He doesn’t know what Jabber’s thinking, and the two of them just stare at one another.

“Okay! Great! Can you tell your people that because they’re trying to kill us,” Cthoni says, breaking them out of the moment.

“Wait, the Cleaners are there?” Zanka now sits up too, grabbing Jabber’s neck to get closer to the communication device, but unintentionally just pulling Jabber close to him. Now that Cthoni has mentioned it, he can hear some sounds of violence in the background.

“Yo, Cthoni, where you at? I’ll come fight,” Jabber offers, staring directly at Zanka’s lips. Zanka feels a bit grossed out by it, now that it’s morning he can properly remember that two men shouldn’t feel that way about one another. He lets go of Jabber’s neck and looks away to avoid seeing his confused and hurt expression.

Cthoni hesitates for a second, “They found the third safehouse somehow, probably asked the information broker or something. Some of us were there discussing… stuff and they’re now fighting trying to get information on your hostage.” Zanka realizes she’s probably reluctant about revealing information he could overhear and then give to the Cleaners, so she talks vaguely.

“Be there in twenty,” Jabber says and hangs up. He turns his whole body to face Zanka to presumably say something like an apology for leaving. The words go unsaid, and instead he eventually slips out of bed to walk towards the door. It’s a lot colder without him.

Zanka listens to the sound of the door close, and falls asleep again. This time, his dreams aren’t warm and fuzzy. The cooling sheets bring dreams of public apologies and shamings. They remind him of everything he’s not that he was meant to be.

As he tosses and turns in his sleep his mind asks one question again, “What would they think?”

Kyouka taps her fingers impatiently. Goka comes back to consciousness slowly. Whatever Zanka had poisoned him with was very powerful stuff, it was taking hours to wear off despite both Nijikus having built up their immunity.

Eventually, Goka’s hands reach up to rub his eyes. He blinks at the smooth white ceiling and frowns over at his sister.

“What happened?” She demands.

He makes a confused expression. Kyouka lets out a sound of frustration. He’s taking much too long to get his bearings. Zanka had shown up, stolen a choker and poisons, and is gone. She needs information.

“Goka,” She snaps. He jumps a little and looks at her, his gaze seems a little sharper than before.

“Can you help me yet?” She asks, “Do you need more time?”

Goka shakes his head, “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” She says simply.

Goka heaves a breath before beginning, running a hand through his hair. It’s already messy from the morning, he shouldn’t be messing it up even more. She’s tempted to reach over to stop him.

“I think he was wearing a Raider shirt,” Goka tells her. He pauses for her to have a reaction. Instead, she waits for the full story. Dramatic reactions are wastes of time, and can be saved for the end of the debriefing.

Goka continues, “He was with another guy with Raider pants, but I’d have to check our information to know which one it was. Not the leader.

“He cares about the guy he was with. The moment I started firing at him instead of Zanka, he- Zanka I mean- stopped resisting and let me take them into your office.

“As soon as I entered, the other guy came at me with giant claws and poisoned me. I’m positive the claws are his vital instrument; that can help us narrow him down.”

Kyouka nods at the end of each sentence, and takes a moment to put the information together in her head. 

She can see Goka getting antsy as she thinks, but it’s not her fault if he’s insecure about the report he gave. He should’ve done better if that’s what’s bothering him.

“The Cleaners haven’t reported to us that he’s missing?” Kyouka clarifies. Goka asserts that they in fact were not alerted about their younger brother running off to join the Raiders.

“Hmm,” Kyouka thinks internally, and lots of thoughts are swishing around in her head at the moment.

“Don’t tell them what we saw,” She commands before standing to leave, “Get well soon.”

They aren’t words of kindness, they’re an order. She’s going to need Goka, he can’t be injured. Fighting two on two is much better than one on two.

Chapter Text

Cold wind raises goosebumps on Zanka’s skin. He shivers, but doesn’t bring his arms up from his sides. That’s not proper posture, and everyone’s watching.

A sea of people look up at him. He’s standing on a raised platform with a lectern in front of him. Behind him, a picture's projected onto a wall large enough for the entire crowd to see.

It’s a picture of him holding Jabber’s hand.

“No,” He mutters, staring up at it. How did someone get a photo of that? Why are they projecting it?

“Apologize,” A voice commands from behind him. He turns to see Kyouka, crossing her arms and glaring down at him.

She’s disappointed. The Nijiku family knows he kissed Jabber. They know everything wrong he did, everything wrong he is.

Then her body morphs into a taller one. Blonde hair and tattoos grow out of her skin. Enjin’s now the one standing there, disappointed.

“No,” Zanka says again, in disbelief.

“Apologize,” Enjin orders.

Hearing the word in Enjin’s mouth is like a slap to the face. 

Zanka’s trying to get stronger wrong. He’s not doing it right. He never should’ve run away. Enjin won’t forgive him.

“I won’t forgive you,” Enjin confirms. Zanka sees Kyouka’s face again. She echoes the words. 

Everyone Zanka’s ever looked up to is there, condemning him. Accusing him of being a homosexual.

Zanka’s body moves of its own accord and turns back to the lectern to face the crowd.

Jabber’s standing in the multitude of people, looking up at him, hurt written plain across his face.

“I’m sorry,” Zanka says. He doesn’t know who he’s saying it to.

Zanka bolts up with a gasp, heaving breaths through a sore throat. He’s lying in Jabber’s bed, alone.

He scrambles out of the bed, disgusted with himself. Everything comes back to him, from that morning. He runs to the bathroom. He feels nauseous and is afraid he’s going to throw up.

Enjin had been there, disappointed in Zanka. He had been there, ashamed to even recognize what Zanka had done.

Kyouka being ashamed of him, that’s nothing new. But he was wholly unprepared to see his mentor.

Enjin, the mentor who had saved him from the well. Enjin, the giver who had helped Zanka to activate Lovely Assistaff. Enjin, the Cleaner that Zanka had run from, choosing instead to come to Jabber.

Enjin’s face flashes before him again, this time repeating his words from their last conversation, when Enjin forbade Zanka from ever seeing Jabber again.

Zanka feels sick.

He kneels in front of the toilet and dry heaves. Tears streak down his face as he gasps for air. He’s disgusting. He’s disgusting. He’s disgusting.

He’s sitting on the couch, watching the popcorn ceiling again. Though he knows it’s not moving, shapes swim behind his eyes.

He needs to call Jabber. It’s the only person he has left. The only person he hasn’t fucked up his relationship with and run away from like a coward.

But Jabber’s out there, fighting the Cleaners, and Zanka’s too afraid to call. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he doesn’t want to either. He doesn’t want to interact with Jabber, he doesn’t want Jabber to come back.

Once he’s done hesitating, he raises a hand to his choker.

“Jabber?” He asks.

“Yeah?” Jabber answers cheerily.

“What happened?” Zanka mumbles. He doesn’t know himself what he’s referring to.

“Well, it’s still kind of happening,” Jabber’s voice answers.

“Are you fighting them?!” Zanka feels himself panicking. He sits up on the couch, staring forwards at nothing.

Jabber takes a moment to respond, probably because he’s in the middle of a fight with the Cleaners.

“Um, Duh?”

Zanka grips his hair, “Don’t!”

He hears someone shout his name over the choker, but it’s hard to make out the voice over the choker. He thinks maybe it’s Rudo. He starts to call out in response, but gets hung up on by Jabber.

Great. So the Cleaners are fighting the Raiders and Jabber won’t let them communicate.

He’s not that upset Jabber hung up though. He thinks if he hears more then he’ll go throw up again, and he already feels like he lost everything he had in him. He’s hungry, but he’s been hungrier and he doesn’t feel like going out for food.

He doesn’t feel like he deserves food. Everything’s going wrong. He’s supposed to be getting stronger. 

What went wrong? How can he get back on track?

Jabber. It must be Jabber. Because everything is Jabber’s fault.

Zanka digs through the random equipment at the poison table, looking for one thing in particular.

After Cthoni wakes Jabber up and summons him to the fight, he scrambles to find his shoes. They’re really ugly, he wishes he could replace them. Stupid Raider uniform.

Jabber steps out of the apartment door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he does, to walk to the fight. He barely makes it three steps though, before a portal opens beneath his feet and drops him directly onto the carnage.

“Holy shit!” He yells as he lands directly on a random supporter. He hops off and examines their face. It’s- nope, wait, actually Jabber has no clue who it is.

The supporter’s eyes go wide when he sees Jabber, and he runs in the opposite direction. Jabber frowns, that’s soooooo boring.

“Hey!” He yells, “Come back! Come on dude! Don’t be like that!” He sighs, it’s no use. The guy’s now fighting some other Raider.

Someone grabs his arm and starts walking towards where the fight looks thicker. He looks over, it’s his goat Cthoni!

“Lady, what's going on?” He asks. His arm deflects a shower of blood coming from his right.

“Already told you Jabber,” She reminds him, “And don’t call me lady.” She ducks underneath a weapon swinging.

“Or what?” Jabber asks with a grin, teasing.

She finishes walking and points him at the sphereite kid he was supposed to capture that first time he had met Zanka. 

Ahhhhh~ Zanka. Jabber wonders what he’s doing right now. He had not been expecting that kiss last night, but he certainly didn’t mind.

“If you want a fight, there’s a target that needs to be captured,” She tells him before clapping his back and walking away.

Jabber almost starts salivating as he remembers how good Rudo had beat him up before. He looks back to Cthoni, she’s headed inside. Probably where Zodyl is. He doesn’t really enjoy senseless violence. His loss.

Rudo’s currently waving around a big sheet. Jabber laughs as he looks closer and realizes it’s the vital instrumenticized version of the wrapper of a sphere snack, Hershey’s. The wrappers are all over the place, must be popular up in the sky.

The sheet wraps around a Raider tightly, securing his arms at his sides, then Rudo twists his body and sends the Raider flying. Jabber giggles at the sight, and Rudo turns around to glare at him.

“Miss me, you cantankerous little tater tot?” Jabber asks as he jumps forwards to replace the Raider that got flung away. Rudo’s only response is a rather egregious glare.

“Get it? Cause you’re short!” Jabber giggles. The sheet goes flying towards him, but unfortunately for Rudo, Jabber’s got the perfect instrument for shredding.

Rudo pulls back the shedded wrapper, still useable, but probably not for Jabber. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of tacks. He holds them up with one hand and activates his gloves, turning them into little flying spikes. Jabber can’t help but stop fighting to watch Rudo work.

The spikes zoom towards the top of Jabber’s feet, an exposed part of his skin and also a part that would be kinda bad to lose. Jabber giggles as they embed themselves in his flesh.

“Rudo! You’re literally an ankle biter,” He calls out, “Like you’re tiny AND you’re aiming for my ankles.” He dives towards Rudo with outstretched claws.

Rudo’s 3R, while being an amazing vital instrument, does have weaknesses that Jabber noticed. They’re strong at what Rudo wants, that’s undeniable, but that’s also it. If Rudo focuses on attacking like he is with his tacks, then that’s all they can do. Also, if he realizes after activating it that there’s something he’d change or improve, tough luck. The worst weakness would have to be umbrella man forbidding him from killing people though.

All this means Jabber’s gonna take a shreddable wrapper and some lightly stinging tacks any day. Is his foot bleeding? Yes, but it’s not debilitating.

The tacks chase down Jabber’s skin and dig in. Jabber giggles when he feels a few reach his bullet wounds from Zanka’s older brother. Akuta really is just a whole team of sadists.

He slashes for Rudo’s arm, only to feel his wrist get pulled away by the wrapper. He pulls around his left arm to try and scratch him.

A voice suddenly crackles over his choker, “Jabber?” It’s Zanka! He bounces back a few feet from the fight to hear better.

“Yeah?” Jabber responds.

“What happened?” Zanka mumbles. He sounds exhausted. Did he go back to sleep and just wake up?

“Well, it’s still kind of happening,” Jabber says as he dodges tacks that were headed for his eyes.

“Are you fighting them?!” Zanka asks with a sudden nervous intensity. Rudo’s eyes widen, he might recognize the voice.

“Um,” Jabber swipes at Rudo half-heartedly, “Duh?”

“Don’t!” Zanka shouts over the choker loudly. So loudly, in fact, that the sphereite hears it. The Hershey’s wrapper immediately pulls Jabber over by the neck.

“ZANKA?” Rudo yells directly into Jabber’s face. Ew, some spit flies on him.

“Ru-“ Zank responds before getting hung up on.

“Sory Zan-zan,” Jabber says as he clicks off the call. He’s not planning on letting the Cleaners get him back anytime soon, and that means keeping them from having contact. It certainly was helpful of umbrella man to take away Zanka’s original choker, Jabber would give him that.

Rudo gasps as he stares at the choker and its lack of Zanka’s presence. He prods at Jabber’s neck.

“Call him back!” He commands. In his distracted state, Jabber’s able to rip apart the wrapper and reach to attack Rudo again. They return to their amusing fight, and without the wrapper to protect him, he doesn’t have any defenses.

Suddenly, Jabber notices the amount of people around the two of them. The Raiders are supposed to be capturing this sphereite, and they clearly want in on his and Jabber’s fight.

One Raider jumps into the brawl, and gets in the way of Jabber properly scratching Rudo. Then another, then another. It’s like they’re trying to get in the way.

It sucks. Jabber isn’t even being targeted by the tacks anymore. Borrrinnnggg. This is why he likes fighting one on one, like he does with Zanka.

His Zanka that kiiiissed him. He giggles.

He elbows other Raiders out of the way to try and get back to Rudo. He activates his third vital instrument, a ratty old blanket that spreads out like a shield across him. Wow, Rudo’s not even trying to go on the offensive anymore.

“Ruuuuddoooooo,” Jabber groans, “That’s sooo booorring.” He can’t help but sound like  a whiny kid.

The shield lets him ignore the other Raiders and focus on Jabber. Good, he should be focusing on Jabber.

“Where’s Zanka?” He demands, with that perpetual frown of his on his face.

“Zanka’s soooo much more fun to fight,” Is all Jabber responds with. The stupid blanket shield is not shredding under Jabber’s claws. It was probably made with the intent of specifically blocking Mankira. Perhaps it’s time to bring out her true form, but it’s never really rewarding if the fight is boring anyways.

“WHERE IS HE?” Rudo yells, sending all the tacks straight for Jabber’s face. When they miss, they double back to in-between the knuckles of his fingers, then to his wrists. He’s specifically targeting places that might incapacitate Mankira. Too bad for him, she’s stronger than that.

Jabber laughs as he dances around and tries again to attack Rudo. As Jabber slashes forwards to try and destroy the shield, another Cleaner pulls the kid away.

A supporter with a large scar is glaring at him, holding the kid at his side. Jabber wonders if he’s supposed to know the guy, based off the stink eye that he’s getting.

“We know you have Zanka,’ Is all the man says before turning and running.

As quickly as Jabber was dropped into the fight, it’s over. The Cleaners turn to flee for some boring reason, and Jabber’s left feeling unsatiated.

“I don’t know what your plan is, but you need to return him eventually,” Zodyl finally says. He’s been grilling Jabber on his plans with the Cleaner for the past hour, but is getting nothing helpful.

Jabber’s story is that the Cleaner came to him of his own free will, which Cthoni vouches for. Zodyl doesn’t believe it for a moment.

“Can’t return him if he wasn’t taken,” Jabber says with a shrug, being purposefully irritating. Zodyl has half a mind to hit him.

“Maybe we could do a hostage trade,” Cthoni volunteers from where she’s sitting. Despite the chairs being available on the floor that Jabber and Zodyl sit in, she opts to sit in her jinki’s portal. Since she prefers sitting in her jinki, the room is very dark. Her yellow eyes glow like a cat’s.

“Fu isn’t a hostage,” Zodyl corrects, “Where do you think they got the information about the safehouse?”

Cthoni’s eyes widen slightly, “I see… I hadn’t considered that. How disappointing.”

Zodyl bows his head, “I agree. He could’ve been made more capable had he taken advantage of the situation.”

When Zodyl left Fu behind, it was an attempt to make the child gain a backbone with a little independence. He never thought Fu would switch sides at the slightest chance.

Jabber snorts, “Man, you guys are boring. You’re in your twenties but you talk like you’re in your fifties at minimum.”

Zodyl turns his cold gaze to Jabber, who remains unaffected.

“I mean like, Bundus talks younger than you two,” Jabber sticks a finger in the air and swishes it around for emphasis as he talks. It’s more movement than Zodyl and Cthoni have done combined during the entire conversation.

“Jabber, if you’re going to talk, then talk about something important,” Zodyl commands. It’s futile though, he truly thinks Zanka’s there willingly.

Jabber shrugs and restates, “He came to me.”

Zodyl rubs his eyes. Cthoni just watches the interaction unfold.

“Look, I respect you Zodyldo and everything,” Says Jabber, “But I don’t wanna give him back yet.” Zodyl almost pops a blood vessel, but at least they’re finally getting somewhere. 

He grits his teeth and asks, “Why not?”

Jabber grins in a way that Zodyl’s all too familiar with. It’s his grin for doing something idiotic, that will leave Zodyl cleaning up the mess so his strongest fighter doesn’t accidentally kill himself. Or get thrown in jail. Zodyl’s sunk enough bail money on him already.

“He’s fun.”

Zodyl stares at him in disbelief, he’s actually risking causing problems with the Cleaners for having fun. Then again, that’s not out of character.

He shoos Jabber away with his hand. Cthoni doesn’t give him a portal back to his apartment, he’d made it clear in the past that he likes walking. 

Surprisingly, Jabber chooses to ask for one this time. Perhaps he has somewhere to be. Zodyl’s just glad it isn’t near him.

“Cthoni, if you give me a lift back I’ll buy you a beer,” Jabber offers, shooting finger guns at her.

Zodyl raises an eyebrow at the random change in habit. Although that’s also not out of character with Jabber Wonger.

Cthoni snorts, “Are you old enough to buy beer?” Nonetheless, she steps out of the portal and changes it, instructing Jabber to walk through after a moment.

“I’m not old enough for half of the poisons Mankira has,” Jabber says with a wink. Cthoni waves him off fondly, and takes down her jinki after a few seconds of him leaving.

Zodyl rubs his eyes, “You swear the Cleaner leaving was of his own volition?”

Cthoni nods, “I heard him over the choker. You can call if you’d like.” Zodyl nods and thinks about it. He doesn’t want the Cleaner to know him. If the Cleaner is indeed going to be a rat, he’d rather not suffer the consequences of it. Jabber wouldn’t mind, he loves a good fight. He’d be ecstatic if the Cleaners showed up to fight him.

“We need to finish the meeting,” Cthoni eventually states. In fact, they had been having a meeting over the Cleaners and getting Rudo. They were planning a mission for it soon, though Zodyl’s beginning to think they should move on. 

The meeting had been why everyone knew to go for the sphereite when they saw him in the mass of the Cleaners. Zodyl had felt a certain amount of pride when he saw it. The Raiders are much more organized than the Cleaners.

“But in this meeting,” Cthoni starts.

Zodyl finishes her sentence, “We need to discuss Zanka Nijiku.”

Cthoni’s portal spits Jabber out on the edge of town. The day is young and warm, and he takes a moment to stretch in the sun before heading back to the apartment. He’s kind of hungry, maybe he’ll get lunch with Zanka.

He peeks in the parking garage as he walks by it and sees nobody in it. Of course, that doesn’t mean Zanka couldn’t just be one the other higher levels, but Jabber chooses to believe he’s in the apartment. He wants to go home and bother Zanka.

He wiggles his fingers at the children wandering around the town. They giggle and run off. It makes him miss his family, and he thinks about paying them a visit sooner rather than later. He wonders if Zanka really would like to come, or if he was just saying that.

He opens the door to the apartment, sans knocking to warn Zanka, and heads in.

The lights are off, so he assumes he’s going to be alone in the apartment. Damn.

He’s proven wrong when after stepping inside he feels a whoosh of air and just barely dodges a knife headed straight for his neck.

“Zan-zan?” He asks, delighted.

Zanka’s indeed the one that tried to slice his throat, glaring at Jabber with a delicious ferocity.

“Shut up,” Zanka grunts, throwing his whole body into another attack.

Jabber giggles, “Catch me, Zan-zan~~” He dances around gleefully in the apartment. He’s not sure what he did to warrant getting stabbed but he enjoys it nonetheless.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you,” Zanka promises, “And go back to the Cleaners with your dead body in tow.” Jabber laughs, and is tempted to let Mankira come out. A shame he cares about his chemistry equipment on the table a few feet away.

Zanka swings the blade again, and Jabber catches better sight of it.

“Wait a minute, did that come from my lab equipment?” He demands, trying to catch the knife. His efforts get him a cut across his plan, but he’s too busy trying to identify the knife to appreciate it.

“Zanka, seriously,” Jabber says, trying to see if it is his knife.

“I’m seriously going to stab you,” Zanka responds.

Zanka sinks the knife into Jabber’s arm, and he uses the opportunity to grab and inspect it.

“I knew it!” Jabber shouts, “You used my animal knife dude! I’m gonna be high as hell.” Not that he has anything against that.

Zanka crosses his arms, “How are those things related at all?”

Jabber sighs and yanks the knife tip out of his arm, “I use it on like snakes and stuff, it’s got venom all over it.”

Zanka, who still is pretending to hate Jabber, says, “Only you would find a snake alive on the Ground and decide to cut it up for the venom.”

Jabber feels the venom already coursing through his veins. A sleazy grin spreads across his face when he remembers that the last animal he had cut up was a frog that secreted hallucinogens. There’s probably not that much left over from before, but there’s still a decent enough amount to affect him.

“Zan-zan~~” He coos, “Why were you trying to kill me?”

Zanka frowns at him and asks, “When am I not trying to kill you?” Jabber laughs in response. That’s true enough.

“Man, you can’t just drug me out of the blue,” Jabber says, though he honestly has enough tolerance to just act normal if he really wanted to, which he doesn’t. Drugs are a nice excuse to be more annoying than usual.

“I’ll make sure to give you a warning next time,” Zanka frowns. He reaches for the knife again.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Jabber wags a finger in his direction, “You just wanna stab me.”

“Hell yeah I do,” Zanka mutters as his hand lands on top of Jabber’s on the handle of the knife. He pulls away quickly, as though burned.

“I know what you need, Mr. Bad Attitude,” Jabber says, reaching for Zanka’s hand. Zanka actively pulls away, trying to avoid Jabber’s touch.

Jabber giggles and latches onto Zanka’s wrist. He pushes up the thin sleeve of his own Raider shirt, even now being worn by Zanka, and finds a nice patch of skin. 

He cuts Zanka sparsely and gives him a bit of the poison too. The grouch curses softly and pushes him away.

Jabber flounces over to the couch and plops himself down onto the cushions. He waits a minute or two, feeling the drug seep into his brain. He looks over to check on what the novice at drugs is doing.

Zanka, who was so determined to kill him a minute ago, is now staring at the wall like it contains the secrets of the universe.

He walks over to lean his head against the wall and asks, “What exactly is in that knife?”

Jabber grins, “Well it’s not in it so much as on it, but I found this like neon red frog with polkadots on it. It made some nice hallucinations, but did end up killing a dude. You gotta be real light with the doses.”

Zanka appears alarmed, “Pause.”

“Oh relax,” Jabber waves around his hand, the knife clutched in his fingers, “I didn’t give you that much. I just took revenge. You dosed me first.” He points forwards an accusatory finger.

Zanka side eyes him. He’s still leaning against the wall. Maybe Jabber did overdo it with the amount.

“Soooo,” Jabber begins. He starts picking at the dirt underneath his nails with the knife, occasionally feeling the painful sting when he pricks his skin.

“Hm,” Zanka asks. It’s all the response he gets.

“Whatcha trying to kill me for?” He questions. He bats his eyelashes as a ‘please’, a bit satirical and a bit genuine. Maybe Zanka dosed him a bit too much, too.

“I already told you,” Zanka spits. His words sound angry as he revisits the topic of killing Jabber. He grabs Lovely Assistaff and walks over to the couch, using her to make sure he doesn’t fall over.

“I’ll tell you what happened with the Cleaners if you tell me again,” Jabber offers. It’s a juvenile offer, he would share his intel for free.

Zanka heaves a heavy sigh and sits down next to Jabber. He stares off into the distance as he collects his thoughts. Or wait, he might just be staring into the distance. How much did Jabber give him?

“Zanka?” Jabber pokes him in the arm. He jumps a mile and turns back to reality.

“I came here to get stronger. I don’t think it’s working,” Zanka states.

“So you try and kill me?” Jabber raises an eyebrow, “I like it. You’ve got such an aptitude for violence.” The explanation isn’t logical though, and they both know it.

He leans in closer to grin, trying to unnerve him. The expression Zanka makes isn’t one of fear though. It looks more like sadness, guilt.

Jabber takes a moment to feel confusion at the face before he gets pushed away. He’s probably just feeling the effects of the hallucinogen, but he can’t understand why Zanka’s unhappy.

“Your turn,” Zanka says, “What happened with the Cleaners?” Jabber takes a moment to think.

“Ummmmmm… what do you wanna know?”

“Why were they there?”

“They were looking for you,” Jabber answers with a shrug. There doesn’t seem to be much to say. Zanka watches him talk, and keeps on frowning.

“Who?” He questions.

“Ugggggggggh,” Jabber groans, “I can’t remember aaaall of them. There was bang-bang girl and umbrella guy and the sphereite kid and that dude with the bandana that Bundus is always talking about and his kid.” Jabber had seen them in the fight around him.

Zanka blinks, “They were all there?”

Jabber doesn’t like how he looks happy to hear that so many Cleaners showed up. Zanka chose to live with him, he chose to leave the Cleaners behind.

“They left as soon as they realized they were losing,” Jabber tells him. He scoots closer, watching the reactions.

“So what? They just didn’t want to die,” Zanka comments. His eyes drift over to the face moving closer.

“Nah, they didn’t want to kill,” Jabber corrects, “I’d kill for you.” He stops only inches away. He can see all the details of Zanka’s dark blue irises.

They spend a moment just making eye contact, before Zanka tears his gaze away.

“You’d kill just to kill. Don’t lie,” He tells Jabber as he gets up to walk away. Jabber, despite his dislike for tender touches, reaches out to grab Zanka’s wrist.

The motion is almost instinctual. It’s something he wouldn’t do if he was in his right mind. He doesn’t want cuddly contact normally, and refuses to initiate it. But with the nice little frog toxin, he latches on hard and refuses to release.

“Jabber,” Zanka says in a warning tone. Jabber’s grip tightens, he doesn’t let Zanka go. Instead, he tries to pull him back down to the couch. He’s met with resistance from a scared looking Zanka.

He takes a step back and wrenches his wrist free. Jabber looks up at him, confused. He really seems to be in a bad mood.

“Jabber I-” Zanka searches for the words. Jabber almost doesn’t want him to find them

“Zanka?” He asks.

“Yesterday was a mistake.”

“What?” Jabber asks. His voice sounds small even to himself.

“Look, I’m just here to get stronger,” Zanka says, “Not anything else.”

“What?” Jabber quietly repeats, feeling idiotic. Is he missing something?

“I don’t want to…” Zanka’s voice trails off.

Jabber looks down to his lap, then back up and asks, “Did I do something?”

Zanka won’t look at him. It’s all the confirmation Jabber’s mind needs. He fucked up somehow, and now Zanka’s going to leave him. It doesn’t matter that Zanka kissed him first, it matters that he reciprocated wrong.

“Zanka?” He asks tentatively when he gets no response.

“It’s,” Zanka still won’t make eye contact, “It’s wrong.”

Jabber’s breathing slows as he stares up in confusion. What is he talking about?

He tries to joke, “You’re high man-”

“No,” Zanka voices firmly, “No. I mean this shit. You can’t touch me. I can’t touch you.”

Jabber can’t hold back the face he makes, one that probably conveys too much emotion.

“What does that even mean?” He questions, “Are we…. allowed to fight?” His words hang in the air for a moment. ‘Allowed’. Like there’s some higher being that’s forbidden them. Like it’s against some rule.

Zanka’s still standing away from him, supposedly trying to avoid any touch, “...I need to get stronger.”

Jabber snorts, “What does that even mean Zanka?” He tries to instigate, tries to cause that anger that he revels in.

Instead, Zanka refuses to make eye contact. Refuses to blame and yell at Jabber. He stands up, and exits the apartment. All of a sudden, the drugs don’t seem to impair his ability to walk much.

He leaves Jabber behind to suffocate in the sauna of a living room. Jabber, who never disliked living in a hot apartment, suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

Usually he knows what he did wrong, and how to fix it. When Zodyl’s mad at him, it’s always a calculated decision to piss him off for a little fight. He almost never accidentally pisses off the boss, and if he does, then Zodyl directly communicates with him about it.

But Zanka isn’t his straightforward boss. He won’t say what Jabber did wrong.

“I’m too high for this,” Jabber mutters. He leans his head forwards into his hands and tries to think straight. He just can’t figure out what he did wrong.

Gris glances over to the other people in the car. Team Akuta came along, and then some. They had to take three cars to fit everyone.

Now, as they turn tail, it seems like no amount of people they brought would’ve helped them.

Enjin’s knuckles are turning white with how hard he’s gripping the wheel. His eyes are narrowed on the road, and for the first time that Gris can remember, he’s driving with precision. He doesn’t like seeing Enjin like this.

The Cleaners had banded together after a few days of Zanka being gone to try and do something. It has indeed resulted in a fight between them and the Raiders, but nothing has come of it. They might as well have just stayed at home and twiddled their thumbs.

Enjin seemed to be going a little insane after they found nothing in the parking garage. He had gone home and started plotting, and almost immediately after, started harassing Fu.

When Gris had noticed the manic energy coming from Enjin, he tried to sit him down and have a raw, real conversation. However, Enjin seemed to be forbidding himself from stopping until Zanka was home. Gris couldn’t blame him.

After a few days, they finally convinced Fu that Zodyl wouldn’t sneak into Cleaner Headquarters and strangle him if they got intel. That was enough for the ex-Raider to give them the location of their third safehouse, one he said was near the parking garage.

Enjin had questioned him with the hopes of finding Zanka, and getting Zanka to be safe, but Gris was worried. Forcing Fu to give up intel might put him in danger instead. All their kids are just Raider targets, sphereite, ex-Raider, or just plain got kidnapped for no reason.

And they still don’t know how Zanka got kidnapped. Apparently Corvus had been talking with Shikage, but if he learned something interesting he didn’t feel like sharing it.

Shikage hadn’t been able to stop Zanka from getting kidnapped. Not that Gris was blaming him, he’s not a giver and he’s never had a substantial conversation with Shikage so he can’t pretend to understand exactly how he protects Headquarters. But still, Shikage hadn’t stopped Zanka from getting kidnapped.

Meaning that if the Raiders did want to show up to take revenge on Fu, there’s nothing standing in their way. Meaning, Enjin had lied to the kid when he guaranteed him he’d be safe. Whether he meant to or not, he was deceiving Fu.

Gris reaches over to squeeze Enjin’s shoulder, who doesn’t react to the touch. He knows they both need it though, to ground themselves when they have enough thoughts to block out everything real in the world.

Maybe the Raiders walked straight through the front doors to get to Zanka, and everyone was asleep and couldn’t stop them. Maybe there was a traitor in their midst, and that person had threatened Zanka to go with them. Maybe the crazy Raider had climbed through a window to get to Zanka. Gris doesn’t know anymore.

So after a few days of unanswered questions, Enjin had pressed Fu harder. He didn’t say anything too bad, Gris made sure of that, but he got the intel he wanted from the kid.

When Enjin had learned enough about the singular station of the Raider’s, he wanted to run off to it immediately and investigate. Gris had been with him at the time, and refused to engage in an idea like that.

Enjin tried to propose it as a stealth mission, and that’d be why only he’d go. Gris put his foot down, even when Enjin made him sleep on the couch.

And that led to him, Enjin, Riyo, Rudo, Follo, Tomme, Bro Santa, and other Cleaners all shuttling together to the agreed location.

As soon as the other kids learned that Rudo was getting to go, they all wanted in. Guita and Remlin genuinely wanted to save Zanka, but Amo and Dear just wanted to go because Rudo was going. Fu had been too terrified to even go near the car they were taking.

They hadn’t agreed to let the kids risk their necks, so Bro Santa came along to do babysitting. He hoped there wouldn’t be a huge fight, and him and the kids followed behind everyone else.

Gris had also hoped there wouldn’t be a huge fight.

As soon as they had everything sorted out, they sped off to the address. They didn’t want Corvus to find out that they were purposefully going to a Raider safehouse.

Gris sighs as he thinks back on it. When did the Cleaners become such a pack of liars?

It’s not like he’s guilt free though. While Enjin tried to fight off everyone that wanted to join their mission, Gris was put on the task of distracting Semiu.

Gris was the better actor between him and Enjin, so he had to be the one to stop her from finding out. If she knew, then she’d doubtless tell Corvus. She was too logical, and wouldn’t support asking to get beat up like Enjin was planning to do. Gris wasn’t really loving it either, but he knew it was either support him or watch him go kill himself trying to do it alone.

Enjin really is more like Zanka than he’d admit.

The trouble was, the moment they showed up at the safehouse they knew they fucked up. There were no cars or lights on, but there were voices coming from inside. It sounded like every single Raider was in the building. Gris froze up before entering when he realized it meant that Raider might be there.

They went in and tried for a bit to be quiet, but got noticed almost immediately. When Bro Santa noticed that the Raider boss was there, he forced his kids back into the car before coming back to help fight.

They hadn’t planned on having a huge fight, but nonetheless, they went in and fought. Enjin immediately sought out the boss and demanded a fight from him. He fought through other givers, Cleaner and Raider alike, shoving them out of the way to reach the Raider boss. Gris ran after, afraid to let Enjin go off alone.

The boss had refused to fight himself, but was curious about why they were getting attacked and entertained Enjin’s questions.

Enjin demanded to know where they were keeping Zanka, and the boss exchanged a look with the young lady whose jinki is a manhole cover.

“Jabber has him,” Was all the Raider boss responded with. Enjin had stopped fighting when he realized there was a chance he could actually have a conversation. Gris stopped fighting when he froze with fear. Jabber indeed has Zanka. Jabber, the one that had almost killed Zanka. Then broken his arm and who knows what else.

“Why?” Enjin demanded. Gris could see his tough exterior crumbling, could hear his voice coming close to a waver.

“Is this about Hell Guard last night? Because I didn’t tell him to do that,” Asked the man.

Gris furrowed his eyebrows when he heard that, because he himself had gone to the parking garage last night and Zanka hadn’t been there. Nothing had happened on the Friday night when there was supposed to be a fight, but now apparently there was something to do with Hell Guard?

It had actually scared Gris quite a bit, knowing Zanka was off schedule. Zanka always had some phrase about ‘rather be dead than late’.

Gris noticed at this moment that Rudo was getting ganged up on. All the Raiders were eagerly creeping towards him, and away from their own fights. Gris remembered suddenly that the sphereite was the Raider’s original motivation for attacking the Cleaners.

“Enjin,” He called out cautiously. They needed to get out of there. They had confirmed Zanka’s location, not there. The Raiders were starting to circle around Rudo, who was already on his second instrument.

“What do you mean?!” Enjin yelled, pointing Umbreaker directly at the Raider boss. Gris could see him getting emotional, he wasn’t expecting Hell Guard to mix with the Raiders.

“Enjin!” Gris had yelled, running towards him. He forced an arm around Enjin’s waist and pulled. They needed to get out.

The Raider boss looked at them with amusement. He permitted them to run away. Gris didn’t understand why, but he’s grateful.

Enjin tried to shove Gris’ hands off and get back to his interrogation, but when he turned around and saw the scene behind him, he allowed himself to be pulled.

The Cleaners had not been winning. They were not experts in fighting people, unlike the Raiders. Tomme had come, out of a desire to help Zanka. She couldn’t fight well, and as a result was getting protected by Riyo who was having to adapt her fighting style to accommodate a second person.

The Raiders around Rudo were practically salivating as he activated his third vital instrument, a shield. Rudo was giving his everything, but he couldn’t fight multiple Raiders forever. Follo was fighting his way in, trying to get to Rudo’s side to try and help him, but it looked like Rudo hadn’t even noticed him.

Then Gris had realized why his third instrument was a shield; Jabber was fighting him. So Gris ran forwards to try and pull Rudo out of the situation. 

Honestly? He’s terrified of Jabber. Not because he had stabbed Gris and almost killed him. It’s hard to explain the exact reason why, but thinking about Jabber just playing with Rudo while he’s already got Zanka in his clutches too sends shivers up Gris’ spine.

When Gris yanked Rudo out of the fight, he couldn’t help but spit the words at Jabber, “We know you have Zanka.” They hadn’t seemed to do much for intimidation. The Raider didn’t have any emotions on his face, just his creepy grin like always.

Enjin had realized when he saw, that by trying to save a kid that was already lost, he was endangering his other kids. That was when he decided to chase after Gris and Rudo, abandoning hope of getting more information on Zanka.

As Gris helped to fight off the other Raiders so that everyone could leave, he heard Enjin whisper to him.

“Zanka’s gone, isn’t he?”

Gris turned to stare at Enjin. The words didn’t sound at all like the confident, cocky man he knew. Thinking back to them makes Gris scared of what effect it might have on Enjin if they can’t find Zanka soon.

“No,” Gris had promised, “Zanka’s not gone. He’ll come back.” He was lying. He didn’t know that. He couldn’t promise that. The Raider boss only confirmed Zanka’s location, not his status.

Now, as they drive back to Headquarters, Gris wonders exactly which meaning of ‘gone’ Enjin had been using.

Because surely there’s no way that Zanka’s dead.

Logically, the day is the same length as always. However, to Zanka, it seems like years.

He’s out looking for trash beasts around the town. He would’ve liked to train in the parking garage, but is afraid that if he’s in such a predictable spot, then Jabber will come to him. And he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Jabber comes looking for him.

His throat tastes like bile. The bile tastes like guilt. He tries not to think about everything he’s guilty of, or he knows he’ll throw up again.

It’s stupid, trying to do what would make the Nijikus proud. It’s too late for him to ever be enough for them.

He understands that he’ll never be enough for any human; he can pretend he’s made peace with that. But that morning, when he got up to immediately throw up, he had neglected even Lovely Assistaff. He hadn’t said a word to her all morning. He’s not even enough for his stick.

She deserves better, but Zanka’s all she’s got, so he takes her out to find trash beasts. So that he can properly train.

He doesn’t know how far he’s wandered before he finds a herd of garbage in the shape of frogs.

He almost laughs when he sees them. They hop around, the size of a car, and start bouncing on over to him. These are dangerous trash beasts?

Then, one of their tongues lashes out to strike Zanka’s arm. It leaves a cut across his left deltoid. It’s shallow, and he’s amused by their pitiful attacks.

The tongue retracts into the frog's mouth. It blinks at Zanka and waits just a moment.

Then, pain bursts from Zanka’s nerves. He grunts as a hand comes to his shoulder. The damn frog has toxins.

More frogs hop forwards to circle around Zanka. Their purple colors, their poisons, the fucking fact that they’re frogs just like the one that he used his knife on, it makes Zanka think of someone.

Zanka drops to one knee. He’s still got a bit of a hallucination from earlier, and now his shoulder feels like it's begging to be cut off.

Another frog’s tongue lashes out at him. He rolls out of the way, on his unfrogged side. He doesn’t feel like getting stung by that again.

The frogs can’t croak, but they rub their trash components together to make mocking noises as Zanka tries to stand up properly. He forces himself into a squat and adjusts his grip on Lovely Assistaff.

“C’mere you fuckers,” He mutters as another tongue whips towards him.

He aims carefully and cuts it in half, following through his attack by dashing forwards to take out the trash beast connected to it, and take out his rage on it.

And for a moment, as he stands and watches the trash beast collapse back into plain, anima-less filth. He feels like he never left the Cleaners.

He tells himself that Semiu assigned him the mission, that Tomme’s a couple yards back scribbling down every detail, that if he turns around now he’d see Team Akuta, standing there smiling at him. He makes sure not to turn around.

He disassembles the trash beasts with precision, as would make his mentor proud. He dodges almost all their tongues in an attempt to avoid the pain that’s currently flaring up in his shoulder.

He can almost hear the sound of Riyo’s laugh. She always goes for the biggest trash beast to compete with Zanka. No matter who gets it, they both smile afterwards. The loser would buy a meal for the whole team.

Going on missions with Riyo is something that he loves about his life with the Cleaners. She’s a simple joy that he didn’t realize he was allowed to have.

Cutting through frog tongues and slicing apart the garbage building them up distracts Zanka enough that for a moment, just a moment, he thinks he sees red hair flash in his peripheral vision.

“Riyo?” He turns. The moment he looks away, another tongue slashes across the lower part of his back, leaving an angry line. Zanka hisses in pain and regrets that his shirt leaves a section of his skin exposed. Damn frog, attacking him the moment he takes his eyes off of it.

He turns back to effectively kill the frog, then looks for the next-

There’s no more frogs. He killed them all already. He’s stronger now, training with Jabber really has helped. So he must be doing the right thing.

He pants, standing in wait. That was way too easy, there’s no way everyone is dead already.

His chest rises and falls slowly. After killing every last purple frog, all that’s left is him standing in the pile of trash that surrounds him, alone. There’s no Enjin applauding him, or Kyouka finally acknowledging him.

Weeds push through the dry ground at his feet, dancing in the wind.

Zanka keeps wandering around until the sky starts to darken beyond the permanent clouds that stay in the sky no matter what. He’s not going to just return to Jabber like he wants him to. Like they both want him to.

Zanka drops into a crouch, fingers gripping his hair.

No. He doesn’t want to return to Jabber. He made a mistake last night. He hurt Jabber. Jabber probably doesn’t even want to see him.

Zanka’s crouch turns into a full on kneel. He stares at the cracked soil beneath him, trying to steady his breathing.

The truth? He’s sad, but he can’t cry. His eyes stay dry as the ground as he steadies his breathing.

The reason? He doesn’t even like Jabber. He’s not sad about the idea of never seeing him again.

Never seeing Jabber again like he’s never going to see anyone else he loves again. Admittedly, Zanka’s eyes start to water at that thought.

No. He doesn’t even care.

And yet, after night’s fallen, maybe around one in the morning, Zanka drags himself back to the apartment, starving and tired. His arms are sore from carrying Lovely Assistaff around and fighting with her. He wants to collapse on the bed.

Jabber’s not in the main room and the door’s open to the bedroom, but Zanka doesn’t walk through it. He doesn’t want to know if Jabber’s asleep in there.

He spends a long time staring at the shadows of the bedroom. He can’t make out anything in the darkness.

He wants a hug.

The couch looks fine, so that’s where he sleeps.

Bro watches as Enjin downs yet another bottle of beer. He’d compliment the man’s tolerance if the situation were different.

Gris returns to the low light of Enjin’s room, where the two other men are already waiting. He crosses over to them and frowns at the bottles.

“No more,” He tells Enjin, who doesn’t argue. He’s now lying his head on his arms again, watching Gris move around the room.

Bro offers up his chair to Gris, who politely declines, and they start discussing.

“They’re all asleep, except Riyo but she’s old enough to join us if she really wanted to,” Gris says.

Bro sighs, “You say that, but I think anyone younger than thirty shouldn’t be dealing with this.” He shoots a pointed look at Enjin, who’s twenty-nine.

“So what? I’m supposed to let Zanka just stay kidnapped because I’m one year too young?” He snorts, before reaching for an empty bottle and scowling at the lack of contents.

“How many beers have you downed?” Gris asks with a frown. He reaches over to rub Enjin’s back, who relaxes into the touch almost immediately.

Bro chuckles, “I don’t how the kids haven’t caught on to you two yet.” To him, the romance is the most obvious thing in the world. He’s lucky Dear isn’t at the age where he starts talking about which girls (or boys!) he likes. Guita does, but thankfully not to Bro.

Enjin smiles halfheartedly up at Gris, “I bet most of them do, but who wants to confront their parents about that?” Gris brushes a strand of hair out of the way of Enjin’s face.

Bro coughs to bring attention back to him, “Hey, uh, kinda crossing into PDA there.” Gris smiles apologetically and shifts his hands back to Enjin’s shoulders.

After they all let out a sigh to try and destress from the long day, Enjin starts off the real conversation.

“So what did Rudo talk to him about?” He sounds tired as he talks. Bro feels bad for putting so much on the back of someone in their twenties.

Gris takes a long time to respond, “He said that Zanka called the Raider.”

A heavy tension spreads through the room, dispersed by Gris’ words.

“Over a choker?” Bro clarifies. When Gris nods, Enjin puts his head facedown in his arms and heaves a deep breath.

“So Jabber and Zanka have each other’s chokers,” Bro muses to himself. The two other men cringe at the mention of the name that they had been carefully avoiding.

“That’s impossible. He doesn’t have a choker,” Enjin says. His fingers brush over the smooth glass of a beer bottle as he thinks.

Gris looks like he’s putting puzzle pieces together. Bro doesn’t understand how with the little information that they have, but he waits for the scarred man to come to a conclusion.

“The Raider boss said something happened with Hell Guard,” He shares. Bro looks up at him in confusion, that has nothing to do with anything.

“So?” Enjin asks, voicing Bro’s pother.

“He made it seem like it had something to do with Zanka and the Raider,” Gris says.

Bro scans the two of them. They refuse to acknowledge Jabber and say his name. Why? What comes of pretending like he’s not real, especially if he has Zanka with him?

They can’t just ignore Jabber, it’s impossible to deny that he plays a key role in whatever's going on. The Cleaners want Zanka back desperately, and that means they’ve got to find Jabber and communicate with him. If two adults can’t even fathom the idea of doing that, who’re they going to send out to try and negotiate? The boss? Bro isn’t sure if Arkha Corvus would walk into the lion’s den like that.

“I need another beer,” Enjin mutters eventually. He turns to stand up and is met with Gris blocking the way.

“You need to go to sleep,” He says, “Bro, I don’t think we’re getting anywhere. We’re going to bed now.” Bro nods and waves as he heads back to his room.

In the hallway, he stops at both Guita and Dear’s rooms, checking that both of them are in their beds. He doesn’t know what he’d do if they just went missing. He can judge Enjin all he likes for falling apart, but he can’t pretend he wouldn’t do the same.

When he opens the door to Dear’s room, his kid wakes up and rubs his eyes, looking at his father in confusion.

Bro walks in, shutting the door behind him to not get too much light into the room. He rubs Dear’s head gently.

“Shh. Go back to sleep.”

Dear blinks and complies. The sight of sleepy Dear is adorable, Bro smiles.

“Love you, Dear,” He whispers to the already unconscious lump under the blanket. He gives Dear a quick kiss on the forehead, more for his sake than Dear’s, and goes to his room.

Yeah, he’d be a wreck if his kid went missing.

The light pouring in through the window signals to Zanka’s brain that it’s time to wake up, and his dreams start to come to an end. Eventually, his eyelids flutter open to the sight of another human face directly above staring down at him.

He screams for a moment and grabs for a pillow to throw, before he realizes it’s just Jabber. 

“Are you watching me sleep?” He asks, annoyed. Though he puts up an upset front, he expects Jabber to laugh and make a joke. He doesn’t. He leans down to put his arms on the armrest and his face even closer to Zanka’s

“You’re on the couch,” He states.

“Uh,” Zanka doesn't know how to respond. He can’t really explain what’s going through his mind, he’s not sure himself. And Jabber’s face is way closer than it should be.

He sits up quickly, dodging any accidental contact, and scoots to the other side of the couch. It puts a few feet between him and Jabber and helps him to think properly.

“What are you doing up?” He eventually settles on a harmless question. It’s mundane small talk, sure, but it’s the morning and Zanka only feels like small talk.

Jabber continues watching Zanka as he responds, “I’m going to go get some plants from around town. I think I saw a new type.”

Zanka nods slowly, “I saw frog trash beasts yesterday that had a venom. It hurt like a bitch.”

“You think they got it from a plant?” Jabber tilts his head as he considers.

“Well, I don’t think trash beasts normally have venom,” Zanka says with a shrug.

Jabber looks at him with squinted eyes, “Where’d it hit you?”

Zanka suddenly feels embarrassed. He doesn’t particularly want to show Jabber the mark on his back that no doubt looks red and ugly. It feels too vulnerable, nevermind the fact that Zanka had been putting gauze on Jabber’s wounds two nights ago.

“My back,” He responds with.

“Can I see?” Jabber requests. He’s polite about it, but Zanka’s still grateful when his rumbling stomach saves him from having to comply.

He quickly stands up and heads for the door, grabbing Lovely Assistaff and doing his morning inspection on her as he does.

“I need breakfast.”

Jabber feels confused and contused and a little irate. He likes the words confused and contused though, they’d make for great song lyrics.

Zanka’s being awkward as hell after disappearing all day yesterday and banishing himself to the couch. He’s refusing to come within a three foot radius of Jabber, who doesn’t even smell at the moment.

He’s mostly embarrassed that he lets it affect him so much though. He doesn’t know when he got so attached to Zanka. He feels silly for being so insistent that the Raiders don’t give Zanka back to the Cleaners, because clearly any relation he thought he was building with Zanka was one-sided.

But still, Zanka’s walking with Jabber to a restaurant near their apartment after sleeping there. He’s at Jabber’s place, not the Cleaner’s.

It’s stupid. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to prove. He still trails behind Zanka as he heads to lunch though.

Zanka’s not striking up conversation, so he doesn’t ask about restaurant recommendations. He picks a cafeteria style place, and Jabber follows without question. He doesn’t want to instigate talk, thinking he might get told to get lost.

Zanka picks a spot at the back of the restaurant to eat, casting nervous glances at the people around them. He flinches away when Jabber reaches for the napkin dispenser on Zanka’s side of the table. Jabber doesn’t grab any more napkins.

The food is awful. Despite both of them being hungry, they end up pushing it around more than eating it.

Afterwards, Zanka takes him to where he found the frog trash beasts. There really is a new weed that Jabber doesn’t think he’s seen before. He grins at the discovery, and doesn’t miss how relieved Zanka looks at his happiness. But if Zanka wants him to be happy so bad, why is he being so weird?

They split off in the evening, and reconvene in the apartment at bedtime. Zanka chooses  to sleep on the couch again. Jabber chooses to convince himself that it doesn’t irk him.

When Jabber leaves the bedroom in the morning, Zanka’s gone. He sits at his desk and processes the weeds they found yesterday. He’s bored.

He calls Zodyl on the choker, “Any missions?” There’s no response, and for a second Jabber thinks he might just be getting ignored.

Then, the boss says, “There’s a raid in a few days. Momoa will discuss it with you this evening. Be in your apartment.”

“…What?” Jabber blinks. Guess he’s hosting Momoa tonight.

The boss clicks off the call and leaves Jabber debating how that happened. He doesn’t mind though, Momoa can be fun if responsible adults aren’t around to judge her for being honest.

Dinner isn’t something she’ll have high expectations for, so Jabber doesn’t stress about her judging his takeout decisions. He thinks he’ll go for jambalaya again, cause it’s delicious and cause hopefully it could make Zanka less mad at him. Though Jabber doesn’t know why Zanka’s mad at him.

He waits for an hour, bumming around the apartment for Zanka to come home. When it’s clear he’s not going to, Jabber leaves the apartment to search.

Because he can sense some hostile vibes, he’s been trying to give Zanka space, but if Momoa’s coming over then he’d probably be forgiven for seeking him out.

He checks the parking garage and finds nothing there. Zanka isn’t using their spot to train anymore.

He checks the area outside the town near the apartment and finds nothing. That could be explained by how vast it is though.

He checks the more popular area of the city, with the pop-up stalls and street food. There’s a decent sized crowd for the middle of the day, so Jabber can’t tell immediately if Zanka’s there.

A large yellow building’s front door swings open and the delicious scent of food wafts out to Jabber. Oh well, can’t find Zanka, might as well get food.

Inside he orders tacos and grabs a number. He heads back outside for a table though, for the vibes. He likes watching passerbys, and thinking about whether or not any of them would rise to a fight if he tries to ragebait them.

Purple mohawk, hmmm probably not. He’s got dyed hair and piercings but that’s all talk. Plain brown hair but dead eyes, looks like she could get into a fight. Split colored hair and blue tassel earrings. Wait-

Jabber hooks a hand into the hood of his Raider shirt, still on Zanka’s back, and yanks the unaware guy into a chair next to him

“Zanka!” He can’t help happily calling out with a large grin, but he makes sure to not get handsy and scare Zanka off. Smart idea, because Zanka looks terrified.

“What’s up dude?” Jabber asks, “Why do you look like that?”

“I don’t want,” Zanka starts, then stops, and begins again, “…to get lunch with you.”

Jabber can feel the grin slipping off his face. Somehow he fucked up so bad that Zanka doesn’t even want to sit through another meal with him. Had their breakfast been that awful?

“What can I do?” Jabber asks.

Zanka won’t make eye contact, but he doesn’t get up and leave. He gestures for Jabber to follow him and heads inside, towards the back of the restaurant.

He’s ashamed to be with a Raider. That’s why he’s sitting at the back of the restaurant again.

But he wasn’t ashamed before the kiss.

Jabber forces a grin and tries to joke, “Is it because I sucked your tongue and not-“

Zanka goes red and cuts him off loudly, “STOP! STOP! I- NO!”

He puts his head in his hands and checks for other patrons looking for the source of the noise. Since they’re so far back, not many people hear them.

“I’m gonna get food,” Zanka pushes his chair back and speedwalks away. Jabber watches him go and lets the grin drop.

Mr. Bad Attitude, who won’t smile at Jabber, is smiling over at the cashier. It pisses him off. He almost walks over out of impulse when he sees how the cashier is smiling that nervous smile he recognizes.

Zanka’s wearing a Raider uniform, he’s basically a Raider now too. It doesn’t matter how much he smiles at the cashier, he’ll still be in that Raider shirt. Jabber smirks. It’s like showing everyone that Zanka’s with him.

“What’d you get?” Jabber asks when Zanka returns. He grins while being observed by his companion.

“Al pastor,” Zanka answers. He eyes Jabber carefully, searching for something.

“Nice,” He gets for a response. The two of them sip their drinks for a moment.

“So why’d you pull me to lunch with you?” He questions.

Jabber’s tempted to ask if he’s embarrassed to be seen together, but he doesn’t really want the answer.

“There’s somebody coming over to the apartment tonight,” He says. Zanka’s weird eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Who?”

“Momoa. You don’t know her.”

“Yeah… Is she your family?”

Jabber smiles softer. He’d like to imagine that the answer is yes, but the truth is that Fu switched sides and they let Noerde die. The Raiders are about as much of a family as tarantulas and daddy long legs.

So he says, “No. She’s just a friend from the Raiders. She’s gonna debrief me on a mission.”

“A Raider mission?”

Jabber smirks, “What else?” Zanka gets flustered easily and defends himself. Jabber would call it cute if he wasn’t now afraid that would somehow get Zanka mad at him.

Jabber spaces out staring at his little piece of paper with his number on it. He’s thirty-seven, where’s the rest of the line at?

“What made you join the Raiders?” Zanka’s voice snaps him out of his trance.

“Huh?” Jabber asks, unsure if he really wants the whole story.

He shrugs, “I’m curious. You don’t have to tell me.”

Jabber takes a breath before talking, “Like specifically how Zodyl met me, or do you want to know everything?”

Zanka studies him for a moment. His blue eyes are locked onto Jabber’s red ones. They’re a beautiful deep blue, like a giant pool of water. Jabber once saw a lake as big as an entire city. The dark blue of the water, that’s the color of Zanka’s eyes. It’s a beautiful color.

“Will you tell me everything?” Zanka’s voice is barely above a whisper.

Jabber matches his level of noise, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Zanka just stares at him. Jabber can’t get a read on what he’s feeling at all. His stomach flips as Zanka sighs.

“Where’d you grow up?” He finally asks.

Jabber smiles softly at the memories of youth, “Machon City.” When Zanka doesn’t say anything, he takes it as a sign to keep going.

“It’s on the edge of a No Man’s Land. It was super toxic there, but the people that have been living there for hundreds of years by now have better immunity to toxins.”

Zanka’s eyes widen in realization.

“It meant that they were protected from other people, and when they first decided to live out near the edge of a No Man’s Land that was before all the wars and shit were over. It was safer to live off on the brink of death than it was to live in the cities.”

Zanka nods and opens his mouth as if to start talking, so Jabber lets up on his report. He doesn’t intend to burden Zanka with his life story if it’s not wanted.

“The Kamuatari District first assembled the Hell Guard in response to all the chaos. There was a long period where people never went far from the city, but now Hell Guard’s everywhere.”

Jabber nods, and waits to see if Zanka has anything else to add. He doesn’t.

“We used to eat anything we could find, because cattle was for the rich. Since we had immunity though we could eat poisonous things, feel bad for a few hours, and then live to tell the tale.

“I guess you could say I joined the Raiders because they looked like a poisonous delicacy. And to me, they were worth the risk.”

The waiter comes by, takes their paper numbers, and leaves behind two plates of tacos. Zanka’s look normal but tasty, like something a normal person would eat. Jabber’s look like the chef had a stroke halfway through, and he piles hot sauce on top of it.

“This,” He gestures to his tacos, “Doesn’t taste half as… special as some of the food I ate back there did.”

Zanka tips his head to the side as he picks up a taco. He doesn’t engage verbally, but he wants Jabber to continue.

“It’s nothing really,” Jabber says, “Just… I would eat poisonous things daily. ‘Spicy’ is just another type of poison. Plants developed it to be left alone.” He lifts one of his tacos in Zanka’s direction as if to say ‘cheers’.

“Look at how well it worked out for them,” He finishes before digging in.

Zanka nods and restates it, “Poison them all you like, they’ll still eat you.”

Jabber looks at his mess of a taco, “Yeah.”

Momoa pulls her headphones off her ears as she arrives outside of Jabber’s door. She knocks twice and stands back for the door to be pulled open.

There’s some rustling around in the apartment, and then Jabber swings the door back with a wide grin. He’s wearing his black tank top, missing the Raider uniform shirt that’s supposed to go over it.

“Momoa! Girl wassup?” He waves enthusiastically at her.

“How are you Jabber?” She asks as she steps in the apartment. There’s a bag of food on his poison desk, which really makes the food seem less appetizing.

“Good! Hyped for a new mission,” He responds cheerfully, grabbing his purple notebook that she knows he uses for notes.

“It’s not that fun really,” She tells him, sitting down on the overly cushy couch, “You just missed the meeting the other day.”

“Hey but if it had a whole meeting then it must be something big,” Jabber points out. The conversation winds away and away from Raider business as Jabber gets out dinner. 

It was nice of him to buy her food, he didn’t have to do that. Despite what some people say about Jabber, Momoa knows that he’s a good friend.

Which makes her feel all the worse that she’s only half there for mission informing.

Jabber isn’t not a touchy person, but he’s careful around Momoa, as any logical person would be. Her vital instrument lets her see all memories at just one touch, so he’s smart to avoid it. Shame is, that’s exactly what she’s there to do.

She’s tempted to just call out to Zanka and tell him to quit hiding. She’s positive he’s hiding in the bedroom. Jabber probably wouldn’t mind letting him meet Momoa. If she had to guess, it’d be that he is himself scared to come out.

Jabber’s still chattering away. She’s grateful for it. Conversations where the other person is willing to do most of the talking are the easiest.

“-ot a big soup person. Miso soup is pretty good though, or at least the one I had. I think it was a family recipe that Zank- uhh, Zodyl used.” He keeps a good poker face, but his eyes give away the panic of using the wrong name.

Momoa smiles softly, “Jabber, I already know Zanka’s here.”

Jabber makes a suspicious face, “Bullshit. Zanka isn’t here. What makes you say that?”

She reaches towards him slowly, and he quickly pulls away, which is confirmation that he’s hiding something. Something she already knows to be Zanka from her boss. The boss.

“I’m not going to judge you,” She says, “Tell him to come out.”

Jabber turns to call out something, but is met with a door already opening. Out steps Zanka, in Jabber's shirt of all things. Momoa takes a moment to process Zanka wearing Raider  and Cleaner clothes at the same time. They go awful together.

“Hello, Momoa,” He says sheepishly, “You knew I was there the whole time?” He looks at Jabber with a guilty apologetic look. Jabber shrugs and waves him over.

She studies him for a moment, “Yeah.”

He tries to force her into a proper introduction, then at least a handshake, then at least just a smile. Momoa doesn’t reciprocate, she’s starting to see what a mess this is going to be. One benefit of being able to read so many people with her vital instrument means that she’s started to pick up on patterns without even activating her jinki.

And boy is she picking up a pattern with these two.

Jabber seems more downcast than usual, and keeps glancing over at Zanka, a Cleaner that he argued with Zodyl about.

The Cleaner, or ex-Cleaner from the looks of it, is wearing a Raider shirt, living with a Raider, and if Momoa’s intuition is right, has some complicated feelings for the Raider.

Zanka comes over to eat food with him. The whole ‘debriefing Jabber’ cover story kind of falls apart, but Zodyl won’t really care since she’s getting the real information he wanted.

At one point, Momoa asks for Zanka to pass something. She just points to a random object, it’s not truly important to her success.

As Zanka’s hands near hers, Jabber makes to say something. Momoa cuts him off with another comment, and he responds in lieu of remembering to be wary. It’s all the opening she needs.

She activates her vital instrument right as Zanka reaches out and makes the tiniest brush of hands.

Bingo.

Her hands waver for a moment as she processes everything. She tries her best to keep it under control, so Jabber won’t notice her tell immediately. She takes the food and smiles at Zanka.

The two men start another conversation that she takes a backseat in. It gives her a chance to reflect on what she knows now.

First, that Zanka’s an idiot. He’s terrified that Enjin will be disappointed in him for being gay. To Momoa, Enjin’s relationship with Gris isn’t even a secret. That was the easiest thing she discovered in his memories.

Secondly, that Jabber’s an idiot. He kissed Zanka (great, now she’s going to have to report that to Zodyl) and then got shut out, and is clearly panicking about it. Still, he refuses to properly communicate with Zanka which leads to both of them separately suffering.

Third, there’s a good chance that the Raiders can recruit Zanka if they play their cards right. Having him date one of their strongest members would certainly be an incentive. Zanka also appears to be enjoying the ego boost of just wearing the shirt, which Momoa dislikes wearing when she’s in public for that same attention.

The good news is that Jabber’s loyalty isn’t in doubt. Momoa wasn’t sure what she was going to do if she found out that Zanka was trying to get Jabber to become a Cleaner, but his memories show that he never intended to make Jabber switch sides.

Momoa sighs as she looks at the two men in front of her, heatedly conversing. They’re both incredibly strong fighters and they’re both stubborn as a mule. Zodyl no doubt wants Zanka for the Raiders.

Welp, looks like Momoa gets to play therapist for the toxic couple.

Chapter Text

A smiling woman hands Bundus two drinks. The old guy got some alcohol, but Momoa just went for a sprite. She and Fu used to be the two Raiders that didn’t go for alcohol whenever there was a gathering, and now it’s down to her to carry the torch.

“Much obliged, ma’am,” He says before turning and heading back to Momoa, “Here’s your coke.”

“This is a sprite,” Momoa corrects, holding up her glass.

He nods, “S’what I said.” Momoa gives up on trying to reason with the southern dialect.

The two sip their drinks slowly, and watch the crowds meander through the streets. Bundus had requested Momoa’s presence in Sabinal City, and she wasn’t about to turn down free food.

So far, Bundus had taken her to a hat store for more of the cowboy hats, like the one he’s currently wearing, and a store with boots that definitely wouldn’t work with fighting like being a Raider needs. Next he wants to go to a rancher store that somehow remains open despite cattle being a luxury on the toxic Ground. Is he gonna start using lassos in fights?

“How’s the coke little lady?” Asks Bundus.

“Sprite,” She repeats, “It’s good. Are we getting food here too?” She’s not too hungry, but she is willing to bleed Bundus dry for making her tour footwear stores. Shouldn’t she be the one looking at shoes according to the gender stereotypes?

“I reckon they ain’t got nothin’ good here. I saw a barbecue place over yonder.”

Momoa follows his gaze and sees, to her surprise, Jabber walking around. With somebody right next to him wearing his hoodie and Cleaner pants. Uh-oh. Unfortunately, Bundus seems to notice too before she can direct his attention the other way.

“Now hold on, ain’t that-”

“Bundus, let’s go to the music shop,” She suggests, “I want more songs for my headphones.” She taps Asyl loudly hoping to bring attention away from Jabber.

“There’s more CDs in your apartment than you can shake a stick at,” Bundus argues, “I’m gon’ go check out who Jabber’s walkin’ with right quick.” 

Momoa sighs in discontent. There’s a chance that he won’t recognize Zanka though, that’d be easiest for her.

Zodyl had told Cthoni because, eh, Momoa doesn’t know. She seems to be his advisor. Momoa found out because she was sent on the mission to check up on Zanka’s intentions. Jabber obviously knows since he’s the one that ‘kidnapped’ the Cleaner in the first place. Bundus probably has a right to know, but Momoa doesn't have the authority to make that decision.

Bundus takes his cup of bourbon with him and walks after the pair. Momoa downs her sprite so she won’t have to carry it, and follows after.

“Wait! Let’s call Jabber over his choker and just tell him to come back!” Momoa tries to yell after him, but he’s already far enough ahead so as to not hear her. She also doesn't really put her heart into yelling, it’s too much work and she doesn’t really like Jabber enough to help him out.

Bundus’ real hand lands on Jabber’s shoulder, man he’s moving to be able to catch up. She didn’t know an old man could move that fast.

Jabber turns around and smiles the moment he sees Bundus and Momoa, but Zanka’s head immediately starts looking away, presumably for an exit route.

“Bundus!” Jabber sounds like he doesn’t have a care in the world, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Boy, bless your heart if you think you can wander around Sabinal City an’ I won’t notice,” Bundus belly laughs. The two look a lot happier than Zanka, who’s trying to inch away with a panicked expression.

“An’ I know you ain’t got a lick of sense in you, but it’s only manners to introduce me to your friend. Say, I think I recognize him,” Bundus gestures to Zanka, “I see a Raider shirt, this one of them new recruits? I didn’t think Zodyl would put you of all people up to gettin’ others to join.”

“Yep!” Jabber nods, and hooks his arm through Zanka’s, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“This’s his vital instrument,” He says, “Lovely Assistaff.” He pulls her out of Zanka’s hands and holds her up. Zanka lets him. At the chance to explain his jinki, he perks up.

Momoa stares as she catches up with them. Enjin grabbing Lovely Assistaff was part of the reason Zanka had left the Cleaners, but he just let Jabber grab her without any resistance. What?

“Mm, she looks purdy,” Bundus inspects her, without touching of course, “Looks like she could open up a can of whupass sure’nough.” He looks to the owner of the vital instrument for more information. From what Momoa saw in his memories, they’re about to be in for a whole lecture.

“If we’re doing this,” She asks, “Can we sit down again?”

Zanka looks stressed at the idea of sitting down and having a full on meal with Raiders, but Jabber answers in the affirmative for him and the four head to the barbecue place.

“Friend, you’re sweatin’ like a sinner in church. You don’t oughta show me your stick if you don’t wanta,” Bundus picks up on Zanka’s reluctance, but misplaces its origins.

He shakes his head in response, “I’d love to tell you about her. It’s just… I’m a recruit and you’re so high up in ranks.” His statement comes out with the inflection of a question as he tries a rather bad sounding lie. Luckily for him, the flattery works.

Bundus laughs loudly, “Boy I like you! Bless your heart, I know you’re sweet-talkin’ me but I like you.” He pats Zanka roughly on the back.

They get to ‘Joe’s BBQ’ and Momoa makes them sit down before Bundus can start a full conversation with the host (a pre-teen boy) about whether or not they’ve got the right type of barbecue. They’ve got what they got and she doesn’t feel like finding another place. The host is resilient though, and doesn’t even shy away from their Raider clothes.

“Are you guys Raiders?” He asks bluntly as guides them to their table. Bundus and Jabber both laugh at the audacity. Momoa’s gonna be real sick of laughter by the end of the day.

“Well ain’t you just a sweet little thang,” Bundus responds, “You can’t be thinkin’ of joinin’ us?”

“You should," Jabber gets up in the boy’s face, “You get all the fights you like and all the respect.”

“Or you could join the Cleaners,” An eristic voice argues from behind them. It’s Zanka, forgetting his role. Jabber grins at the potential for an argument. Bundus raises his bushy eyebrows.

“He means that they have fights too,” Momoa covers for him, “But they don’t get to fight people.” She shrugs, as if only fighting trash beasts is below her. Nevermind the fact that her vital instrument is useless in a brawl.

Zanka nods and snaps his mouth shut. Jabber giggles and gets shot a death glare.

“I wanna join the Raiders!” The prepubescent boy decides.

“Why don’tcha start with gettin’ us a table,” Bundus suggests. 

The boy nods and takes them towards the biggest table in the restaurant, which they definitely don’t need. It’s a sign of respect for the purple quilted pattern on their clothes that Momoa doesn’t care for. That is, she doesn’t care for the sign of respect or the purple fabric. She’d almost prefer if she had joined a less known group. The only thing stopping Hell Guard from rounding up all the Raiders is the fact that they’d lose in a fight, not hidden identities.

Bundus and Jabber are having a whale of a time, but that pair isn’t the one Momoa’s watching. Her and the old man are sitting together on one side of the table and the two idiots are on the other. The view lets Momoa carefully note every motion they make.

Reporting to Zodyl was awkward as fuck, which Momoa admits is a bit dramatic but it’s not innacurate.

Zodyl had been okay when she said that Zanka and Jabber killed people in their Hell Guard raid. He had no reaction when she said that Zanka and Jabber were kissing up on each other’s vital instruments. He had been glad to hear that they could probably convert Zanka into a Raider.

He had a less positive reaction when he learned they had actually kissed each other.

It wasn’t homophobia, Momoa could tell that. Zodyl’s jaw had tightened at all the intricacies of a relationship. There’s almost too much that could happen to even consider all the possibilities.

After a bit of very kind defending on Momoa’s part, Zodyl eventually decided that the relationship was a good thing.

Then she got to tell him that actually they weren’t dating, Zanka has too much fear of being gay for that.

Zodyl had done the biggest display of emotion she’d ever seen from him: putting his head in his hands and loudly sighing. He told her to keep an eye on developments, and to help the relationship along if she could. It was convenient, since she was planning to anyway. Whether or not she’d ever admit it, Jabber was her friend and she feels a responsibility to be his wingman. Because he desperately needs it.

So she watches Zanka and Jabber’s interactions, just as her boss told her to do.

Bundus isn’t noticing anything, thankfully, and Zanka and Jabber are doing a pretty good job pretending like there’s nothing awkward between them.

Zanka sat down and immediately moved his chair to the left a bit to get away from Jabber. He now avoids eye contact with Jabber, besides the occasional glare. He argues with anything Jabber says and agrees with most things that Bundus says. With rudely timed laughs, he disputes whenever Jabber makes a statement about his own strength.

Jabber’s taking it in stride. He grins when Zanka’s rude to him and bites his lip when Zanka glares at him. He makes not so subtle jokes to Bundus about his grouchy companion, and deflects Zanka’s corrections about his abilities.

Bundus is just enjoyin’ himself, downin’ ‘nother bottle o’ beer. Momoa holds back a smile at her own joke about his atrocious accent.

Jabber’s halfway through a made up story about how he found Zanka lost and alone and convinced him to join the Raiders when a waiter brings them their check, but not the same waiter as before.

Gone is the sweet but misinformed little boy who wanted to become a Raider. An older boy tells them that they are less than welcome, and to get lost basically.

Bundus sighs and doesn’t argue. He doesn’t mind popular attention from the Raider clothes, but dislikes the unkind attention he receives from it. Really it seems like Zanka’s the only one that likes Raider privileges, Momoa thinks with a smile.

The teenagers give Bundus their best puppy dog eyes and he begrudgingly pays the bill. He grumbles about it, but Momoa thinks he would’ve done it anyway. The old guy has a soft spot for kids.

They leave the restaurant with their stomachs full and their hearts happy, except for Momoa who’s internally gnashing her teeth at what she has to do.

“Bundus,” She begins slowly. He turns towards her with a smile.

“I’m gonna hang out with them for a bit. As fun as the ranch store sounds, I probably need to see people my own age sometimes.”

Bundus chuckles, “True ‘nough, you can’t just hang ‘round me. Have fun with ‘em and make sure this corn fed kid don’t get scared off by Jabber!” He slaps Zanka’s back to specify who he’s talking about.

Momoa internally questions ‘corn fed’ as she gives him a nod and turns to Zanka and Jabber. They look confused as to why she’s coming with them.

Her hands prod their backs forwards along the city streets. She waits until Bundus is out of sight, then takes a sharp turn towards a dark alley.

“Sit,” She commands. There’s some wooden crates that they use as makeshift chairs. Momoa takes the tallest one to establish her authority.

She sighs a bit before talking, but when she senses Jabber about to say something she knows she’s gotta take the lead or the conversation won’t be what it needs to be.

“You two are awkward around each other,” She accuses, “And it’s gonna stop. Right now.”

Jabber and Zanka stare at her like she’s going crazy but man she really doesn’t want to say it in plain English.

“Jabber, he’s not mad at you. He’s just awful at communication.”

Both of them suddenly realize where the conversation is going and stare straight ahead at Momoa, not making eye contact with each other. Zanka’s got a bit of a flush going on, but Momoa takes no sympathy on him.

“Zanka, shall you tell him or shall I?” She lets him decide, but she thinks the outcome’s been predetermined.

Zanka swallows, “My, uuh, the Nijikus think, know, well…” He looks desperately to Momoa for help, so she nods as encouragement. Not a lot of help, but he’s got it!

“Homosexuality’s wrong,” Zanka finally states, getting it all out of the way.

Momoa can practically see the gears turning in Jabber’s head.

“Wait,” He says.

“And I’m sorry that I kissed you and then got awkward,” Zanka’s words flow like water now that Momoa took down the dam. Now she doesn’t have to be the one communicating for them.

“It’s not that I hate you, I don’t hate you, though I definitely should. And I’m not mad at you! I just… already feel like enough of a family disappointment. You saw, I wasn’t even in the family photo.”

Zanka’s hands grip his staff tightly. His knuckles are turning white.

Jabber, who’d been trying to gather his thoughts from the first sentence, finally knows what he wants to say.

“Was it a mistake?” He asks.

Zanka stops gushing, “Huh?”

Jabber looks at him intently as he repeats the question, “Was kissing me a mistake?” Momoa feels a bit like she’s intruding. Oh wait! She still has something she needs to say to Zanka.

“Zanka, before you answer,” Momoa calls out, “Enjin and Gris.”

They both stare at her strange words. After a moment, a lightbulb seems to go off for Zanka.

“No way,” He mutters, “Are they…?” Jabber’s gaze is flipping back and forth between the two of them in confusion.

“You really think Enjin would judge you for something he’s guilty of?” Momoa asks. She knows from the memories she saw that even if Enjin isn’t dating Gris he’ll still support Zanka, but this way is the fastest to change poor Zanka’s mind. The Nijikus really fucked him up good.

“How do you know that?” Zanka questions. Jabber makes a guilty face and leans in to whisper something to Zanka, who glares at Momoa.

“How many more times are people gonna read me without asking?” Zanka groans. Momoa shrugs.

“I’d never read you without asking,” Jabber offers sweetly.

Zanka frowns, “You can’t read people.” He turns to face Jabber and the pair find themselves face to face, inches away from one another. Zanka doesn’t immediately pull away.

Momoa starts paying attention to a bug crawling on a brick wall off to the side.

“No,” Zanka says softly. Jabber cocks his head to the side as an unspoken question.

“Kissing you wasn’t a mistake,” Zanka clarifies in a whisper.

Momoa continues to look away when she thinks she sees them lean in closer. It’s a real interesting bug she’s looking at. Got some nice swirl patterns and unnatural colors.

She hears a throat clear and turns back to see them smiling sheepishly.

“Okay, I’m gonna go find Bundus,” She says, getting up quickly to leave. Her job here is done.

She leaves them sitting together, a bit closer than before. As she exits the alleyway she remembers one more thing to say.

“Zodyl says you guys need to come to a Raider meeting tomorrow by the way!”

Zanka’s eyes almost pop out of his head.

“C’mooooon just a liiiittle fight,” Jabber begs, poking the side of Zanka’s face. Getting ignored just motivates him to be more annoying.

The two are walking home from the city at Jabber’s request. He wanted to go home to fight Zanka, but decided after about five minutes that waiting was boring.

“I won’t even drug you or nothing,” Jabber whines. Zanka gives him a death glare.

He had found the fighting request cute for maybe ten minutes, then started getting genuinely annoyed. But if he gives in and hits him, then he’ll just be giving Jabber what he wants.

“We’re out in the middle of nowhere,” Zanka hisses, “What if I need more fucking stitches?”

Jabber frowns, “That’s boooooriiiiiing.”

“You’re begging to fight me,” Zanka remarks snarkily, “I don’t think you find me boring.” He quickens his pace, forcing Jabber to catch up.

“I find not fighting boring,” Jabber grumbles. He yanks on one of Zanka’s earrings, which hurts like a bitch.

“Mother fucker!” Zanka yells as he shoves off Jabber’s hand, “I’m not fucking fighting you here!”

Jabber grins his infuriating grin and Zanka thinks, not for the first time, about giving Jabber what he wants and beating the shit out of him. It’s probably a good thing he never wins, because if he did he wouldn’t stop hitting Jabber. He’d just beat the body beneath him into a bloody mess. He smiles at the idea of Jabber getting what’s coming to him. He infuriates the one not in the know.

“What’re you smiling about?” His tone continues to get more and more whiney.

“Would you shut up?” Zanka demands, “How far until we’re at the parking garage?” His hands unconsciously reach for Lovely Assistaff, but he doesn’t want to lose the battle of wills.

Jabber’s grin widens, “Aww Zan-zan! I knew you wanted to fight me too!” It takes all of Zanka’s self restraint to not prove him right.

Something scratches the back of Zanka’s neck. He whips around to see Mankira out and pointed towards him.

“You fucking bitch,” Zanka mutters through gritted teeth, “What’d you use?” He clenches his fists and digs his nails into the skin of his palm. He refuses to let Jabber win.

“Nothing,” Jabber smirks, “Yet.” Zanka’s poor self restraint snaps like a string holding up a pile of bricks.

“I’m gonna kill you,” He snarls as he pulls out Lovely Assistaff and swings her towards Jabber’s face in the same movement. Her spikes come out just in time to cut his cheek.

Jabber giggles with delight, “Lovely Assistaff! It’s lovely to see you!” The awful pun further fuels Zanka’s desire to kill him.

The terrain isn’t great for fighting. They’re walking through a polluted zone so there’s uneven ground because of trash. There’s nothing for either one to propel off of or cling to, but that can work in Zanka’s favor. The only thing that’d be annoying is if Jabber decides to dodge more than fight back, but Zanka knows well enough that Jabber doesn’t feel like running away from getting hurt.

Lovely Assitaff arcs through the air towards Jabber, but he easily slips out of the way. Zanka makes sure to be careful on the follow through, using his jinki to parry when Jabber tries to catch him unaware.

Mankira ricochets off of Lovely Assitaff’s metal, messing up Jabber’s balance enough that Zanka’s able to catch his  midsection in the semicircle of his vital instrument. He throws Jabber backwards, onto the ground. 

Jabber grins at getting manhandled and quickly bounces up again.

He stabs his claws into a nearby pile of trash and pulls them out, causing the debris to cascade down underneath their feet. As Zanka tries not to get tripped up, Jabber disappears.

Zanka has to turn around as quick as a flash and shield his face with his weapon to stop himself from getting poisoned.

“Asshole,” He mutters as Mankira forces him backwards. He lands in the pile of scraps from the sphere and Jabber pounces on him.

His claws wrap around Lovely Assistaff’s handle, his whole weight rests on Zanka. It’s a rookie mistake.

Zanka spins the two of them around, pinning Jabber beneath his vital instrument. He forces Jabber into a lying position and smiles smugly at him.

Jabber’s glowing pink eyes have the same unfocused quality they always do when they’re fighting. It’s not that he isn’t paying attention to the fight, because that’d be untrue, it’s that he’s not paying attention to the rest of the world. He locks in on the pain and violence, so he can properly enjoy it.

Zanka holds down Lovely Assistaff with one hand and raises his other to punch Jabber in the face. 

Thwack. A bit of blood trickles down from Jabber’s busted lip. Zanka leans in to lick it off.

“I hate you,” He tells Jabber before joining their lips again for a proper kiss. Jabber slips his arms out from beneath the staff and uses them to pull Zanka in closer, he’s not letting Zanka run away this time.

And of course images of his sister float behind his eyes, reminding him of everything he stands to lose from this. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t any thrill in knowing that he’s doing something his family would hate. Somehow, the idea of Enjin and Gris overrides the disgust of his family.

If Enjin and Gris are really… together, if they’ve really been together, then Zanka can kiss Jabber just once or twice, surely.

Maybe it’s time he gives up on ever living up to his family’s expectations. Maybe he should just settle for not being a complete failure to the Cleaners.

It’s not like anyone has to know that he likes kissing another man.

Zanka enjoys the taste of Jabber’s blood. It’s got a flavor like citrus, no doubt from all the chemicals in his system. The lip eventually stops bleeding and before he knows it he’s biting harshly to taste the blood again. Jabber groans into his mouth when he succeeds in drawing blood.

Zanka doesn’t hold his chin like a proper lover might do, no, he uses his hands to push down harder on Lovely Assistaff towards his neck to cut off air supply. Jabber doesn’t fight it, but instead pulls Zanka in ever deeper. He deems breathing unnecessary.

The glowing pink eyes still have their unfocused quality, but it’s more satisfying to Zanka when it’s paired with the blood that’s slowly oozing from his mouth.

Jabber gasps for air. His hands tangle in the multicolored hair to pull Zanka back in for another kiss, he’s careful to stop Mankira from piercing through skin.

The kiss is hungry. Teeth clash together in horrible form, but it satisfies the awful ache in their starving hearts.

It can’t be helped, the way Zanka inevitably ends up gnawing on Jabber’s lip again. It’s just too gratifying. His teeth trail further down, until he’s chewing at the base of the neck. He moves Lovely Assistaff off Jabber’s throat to grant him better access.

He doesn’t really care about leaving marks in the form of hickeys, he just likes tasting the metallic tang of blood. When he feels Jabber's nails scraping his back as a plea for mercy he chomps down harder in retaliation. Mercy? For Jabber? As if.

He bites as hard as he can, pulling back when he hears Jabber yelping like a wounded puppy, yet still grinning. He looks to see dark blotches in the shape of his teeth left behind. His gaze trails upwards to see tears falling from Jabber’s eyes, not glowing anymore. Mankira retracted so he could properly scratch Zanka’s back which no doubt has marks on it now.

Zanka leans down again to lick the tears off Jabber’s cheeks. They’re salty, he likes the flavor of them too.

Jabber pulls him in for another kiss, and they share the taste of his blood.

“Nobody’s visiting the infirmary anymore,” Eishia confesses.

That’s not to say that they aren’t getting injured, because of course they are, but when they get a cut or a bruise or maybe just roll an ankle, they don’t come to Eishia. She thinks she must’ve annoyed everyone.

“What’s wrong with having more free time to do what you like?” August asks.

Eishia smiles weakly, “Easy for you to say, healing is what I like.”

“I can throw myself down the stairs if you’re that bored,” August jokes.

“Absolutely do not do that!” Eishia squeaks, “I’m trying to help people that are hurt, not cause more injuries.”

He shrugs, “Why do you think they aren’t visiting the infirmary? Are they just not getting hurt?”

Eishia sighs, “No… the injuries people would come in for before were never awful, they just were minor things, like one time Enjin came in for a stubbed toe- but don’t tell him I told you that.”

Her brother nods seriously, “So what I’m hearing is that the Cleaners finally stopped being such big babies and you’re unhappy about it.”

Eishia throws a blue fabric bolt at him. He catches it, laughing. When he sees which cloth she threw, he smiles sadly.

“This was for Zanka’s uniforms,” He laments, “Guess I don’t need to worry about making him a new one each week anymore.” Eishia crosses the room to place a hand on his shoulder, as much for her benefit as his. Remembering Zanka brings heavy emotions to her heart.

“I think the whole thing with Zanka is why they aren’t coming,” She tells him. He looks up in confusion, indicating for her to continue talking.

She fidgets with the hem of the fabric, “It’s hard to explain…” Staring at the wall lets her gather her thoughts, but knows eventually she has to resume.

“Okay, you know how Zanka didn’t want me to report to anyone on his injuries?” She asks. August nods and watches her aptly.

“Well I reported the broken arm. It’s what caused this whole mess, I think. Maybe people aren’t coming to me because they think I’m going to start telling everyone about their injuries. I don’t want to do that, I just want to keep them safe.”

Her voice breaks as she thinks about fellow Cleaners hiding pain for the sake of not getting snitched on by her, their healer. What kind of healer is she if they can’t even trust her?

August looks at her sympathetically. His hand reaches to squeeze hers with reassurance.

Her breathing is shaky as she talks, “I only reported Zanka because I wanted to help him… but I made everything worse. Enjin got in an argument with Zanka because of me and then he disappeared before they could make up! Enjin’s struggling so much right now, and it’s my fault.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve just stuck to healing. What I’m good at.”

She bows her head, done talking. Guilty tears well up in her eyes, blurring her vision of the floor.

“Eishia,” He whispers, “Of course it’s not your fault. You were helping him. Other people’s poor handling of that information was out of your control. If you had said nothing, he’d’ve killed himself training with the Raider, so please, don’t blame yourself.”

He stands up and hugs her close. She lets herself have one quiet sob into his shoulder before composing herself and wiping the tears away.

“And you’re wrong,” He asserts, “If they aren’t coming to you, it’s because they’re sad about Zanka. They feel like they don’t deserve healing or some other self-deprecating shit, but they don’t doubt you. Ask anyone we know, you're an amazing doctor. Granny’s amazing too, but does she have a vital instrument dedicated to helping people?”

A watery smile breaks out across Eishia’s face as she shakes her head.

She sniffs, “Granny’s still better than me. Type: Heal is just cheating.” She holds on gently to her jinki as she refers to it.

“Bullshit,” August says, shaking her shoulders lightly, “You’re the best doctor in the world.” She laughs, embarrassed, and pushes his hands off. He wipes the tears away from her cheek.

“Look, why don’t you talk to Corvus? I know that he’s here today,” He suggests, “Maybe he knows why they’re keeping away.”

She nods, and pulls him in for another hug. Her tears eventually stop flowing altogether.

“Thank you,” She whispers to him. She really doesn’t know where she’d be without her brother.

Eishia knocks lightly on the expensive looking wood door of Corvus’ office.

“Come on in,” He calls from the other side. He smiles warmly as she enters.

“Eishia,” He exclaims, “I didn’t think it’d be you! How can I help?”

She takes a steadying breath, “Are the Cleaners mad at me?” Immediately she imagines fifty better ways to say that sentence that don’t sound quite as accusatory or snotty or entitled, but Corvus doesn’t seem to judge her blunt phrasing.

“Why do you think that?” He inquires with natural curiosity.

“It’s just…” She stumbles over her words, “They’re not coming to me for stubbed toes.”

At this, Corvus raises his eyebrows. She plans to make a script the next time she has to talk to her boss.

“Or other small injuries! When I used to get people for all types of things, I’ve only been getting serious stab wounds ever since Zanka left.”

Corvus inhales with sudden clarity.

“Eishia, that is the opposite of what happened,” He tells her firmly, “I apologize for the misunderstanding.”

“Boss?” She asks, puzzled.

“I believe you took two days to put Zanka’s broken bone back together? Maybe less?” He looks at her for confirmation. She nods, wondering what that has to do with it.

“After that, I told them to let Type: Heal recuperate. Actually, I do that whenever you have a significantly worse-off patient. It’s usually just not noticeable because by the time the patient gets released and your focus isn’t on them anymore, your jinki is ready to be used again by every Cleaner here.” He chuckles lightly at how the Cleaners are dependent on her abilities.

Eishia frowns, still not fully getting it. Corvus thinks for a moment about how to explain his actions better.

“There are drawbacks, as you well know, when someone uses their jinki too much. Healing a broken bone in two days is no small feat, I didn’t want to overwork you. It appears that they’ve decided to give you just more time off. I assure you though Eishia, they can survive some papercuts.”

“But,” Eishia twists her jinki around her finger, “It’s not like I have to heal him anymore.” She doesn’t explicitly state the name, but both her and Corvus know who she’s talking about.

Corvus gives her a sympathetic smile, giving her his full attention. He expresses no anger in her talking back to him.

“I mean, he’s gone,” She mumbles, “He’s probably still injured, but he’s gone. I can’t help him anymore.”

He cuts her off to reassure her, “Eishia, you are a very capable doctor. You helped him plenty.”

She feels emotions welling up at the genuine acclaim from her boss. She takes a steadying breath and draws on her courage.

“Do you know where he is?” She asks. Corvus’ smile doesn’t drop, but it loses a bit of its sincerity.

“I assure you Eishia, he’s okay,” He reassures, “I know where Zanka is, and I’m working on a plan of how to get him back.”

She thanks him and leaves, feeling a bit better. Still, she wonders if what he said is true.

She hopes that if Corvus really does know where Zanka is, then he gets him back soon. Zanka’s disappearance is affecting all the Cleaners negatively.

Jabber’s fingers slide across the rough fabric stretched across the bed. The mattress starts to dip down with Zanka’s weight around a foot away from Jabber. 

The bed is colder on that opposite side, Jabber heats up his own half almost unintentionally. Zanka looks like he could use another two blankets.

He doesn’t want to ask for a kiss, that’s cheesy. He doesn’t want to ask for a hug or for cuddles, that’s embarrassing. Still, he wants contact. So he asks for violence, and Zanka understands what he means.

He thought he’d be unbelievably happy to learn that he hadn’t messed up and that Zanka didn’t hate him, but he doesn’t feel much. There is a part of him though, that is infinitely grateful that Zanka will touch him without flinching away again. Thank you, Momoa, he thinks.

His fingers brush over the ends of Zanka’s hair, he lets himself be soft while nobody else is awake to see. Zanka’s breathing comes evenly, it’s nothing like when they’re fighting. His expression is so peaceful. Jabber kind of prefers the glaring gloom and doom. It’s what he already knows, it’s comfortable.

But Jabber Wonger doesn’t want to live ‘comfortable’. He doesn’t go out and initiate fights for a comfortable life. He didn’t join the Raiders so that his life could be just ‘good’.

He wants to feel amazing. He wants to feel alive. He wants to feel every one of his nerves screaming in pain, so he knows that they’re there. But he doesn’t know if Zanka wants that. Every time he thinks he understands how his brain works, he’s proven wrong.

Mankira wants to come out, she wants to stab Zanka even now. Even at their most peaceful moments, Jabber craves violence. It’s too soft. Zanka’s too soft.

He pulls his hand back. He doesn’t want to scare Zanka off when he just got him back. He’ll just settle for watching Zanka sleep.

“Don’t leave me,” He whispers, “I’ll make you stronger.” He knows that’s the only reason Zanka’s with him, for getting stronger, but he’s not upset. He’ll be grateful for any time he has. He’ll make it count.

The sleeping mass doesn’t respond.

Morning light streams through the window, for who knows how long. By the time Zanka wakes up, the bed is a shade warmer than it would normally be from the light heating it up.

He feels a pull dragging him away from sleep. When he finally opens his eyes, he turns to Lovely Assistaff, leaning to the wall next to the bed. She’s in the window’s path and her wood looks like it’s glowing. Zanka rubs his eyes, trying to make his vision clear. Her anima is different than normal, in a way he can’t explain.

When he moves, he feels resistance on his sleeve. He looks to see Jabber’s hand falling. It was holding onto Zanka’s clothes, but not him directly. Mankira’s metal flashes as she falls.

Zanka questions the hand placement internally as he moves to grab Lovely Assistaff. Jabber stirs in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up.

The movement is cute. He frowns at the thought. Despite being told that his entire world views are changed, Zanka still can’t shake a slight feeling of disgust at finding another man ‘cute’. It’s a stupid word. Jabber would probably hate to have it assigned to him.

He turns away, and cares for Lovely Assistaff. There’s a mental list of questions he runs through, but he doesn’t truly expect a response from her.

He asks her how she’s doing, how her night was, and if she wants anything. He barely holds back a loud squawk when she responds.

It’s not words so much, but it’s a part of his soul that’s talking, so he understands it.

Really? He thinks. That’s what she wants? Well, Lovely Assistaff being that way makes him feel less bad about himself at least.

He turns back to Jabber, careful not to wake him up, and glances at Lovely Assistaff again for confirmation that he isn’t losing it. Nothing is explicitly said, but he can feel her anima pulsing through the staff. She wants something and he’s taking an awful long time to do it. He never thought his stick would be impatient.

He reaches for Jabber’s lonely hand that now lays on the mattress of the bed. He gently places Lovely Assistaff underneath it. Or more specifically, he places her underneath Mankira.

Her anima relaxes at the touch of the rings, and Zanka feels calmed by the sight for reasons he can’t explain. He lays back down, feeling lethargic again. His hand reaches out to touch her wood.

“Were you lonely over there on the wall?” He murmurs to her. His hand trails down her wood, which is unnaturally cold compared to Jabber’s skin. Zanka’s hand ends up resting on Jabber’s as he succumbs to sleep again.

The Nijikus don’t have to know. The Cleaners don’t have to know. It’ll be just Zanka and Jabber.

Explicit instructions from Momoa meant that the two of them are thinking about the Raider meeting from the moment they wake up to the moment Jabber’s choker starts buzzing while they’re chilling in the living room.

Jabber’s sitting at his desk messing around with some poison. Zanka’s cleaning Lovely Assistaff and just thinking, since he’s got plenty of material to mull over in his mind.

Cthoni’s voice suddenly fills the apartment, “I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes. Both of you.”

Zanka, while not surprised that she expects him to come to the meeting like Momoa said, has to bite his tongue in order to avoid visibly panicking.

Jabber carefully puts whatever he’s working on down and walks over to the couch, draping himself on Zanka’s lap. Despite some slight resistance, he doesn’t get pushed away.

“Excited for your first Raider meeting?” He challenges, smirking. Probably trying to instigate a fight.

“I’m not a Raider,” Zanka corrects. And he plans to stay that way. Wearing a Raider shirt doesn’t mean anything, it’s just all he’s got option-wise. Living with Jabber doesn’t mean anything either, since now Jabber means a bit more to him than just some Raider.

Ugh, Zanka doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t even feel like thinking about putting a name to what they are.

But there is a certain undeniable pleasure that he gets from kissing Jabber, especially when it’s gentle enough to make him squirm.

Zanka cups Jabber’s cheek to pull him in for a kiss. The shocked Raider only leans in slightly as his eyes close, his expression seems a bit disappointed when Zanka pulls away. It’s hard not to laugh at his face.

“So where’s the meeting?” Zanka asks. It’s nice to be up close to Jabber. He can admire all the scars that are speckled across his face. The colors of his eyes and their long lashes. The blotchy spots where it looks like Jabber might’ve had a piercing in the past. Zanka wonders if he could get Jabber to pierce his ears again.

“Uh,” Jabber mutters, a little flustered, “Probably at Cthoni’s place cause she’s picking us up. Or wait no probably the-”

Zanka tightly grips Jabber’s locs and pulls him back in for another kiss. It’s just too fun to see how much he can mess with someone who’s supposed to be unflappable.

When Zanka pulls back again to let him continue talking, he has to actively stop Jabber from pulling him back into a full on makeout session. He has to chomp down hard with his molars on his tongue to keep from laughing, but he makes damn sure to keep his frown up, like he’s not enjoying the situation at all.

Jabber’s face is right next to his, inches away.

“What are you doing?” Jabber asks. The question is posed with logical inflection and a cool tone, but Zanka can see how much of an effect he’s having. He wants to mess with Jabber more.

“Whatever I want,” He responds, “Now keep talking about the meeting. Chuh- uh- Cthoni?” Well, at least if he was worried he was turning into a Raider he can bench that thought. It’s hard to be a member of a group when you only know one other member’s name. He can’t even remember the name of the headphone girl he’s seen twice now.

Jabber nods at Cthoni, meaning it’s the right pronunciation.

“Cthoni said she’d be here to pick us up in twenty minutes?” Zanka double checks the clock, “I need to lock in if I have to meet the Raider boss, or he’s probably going to kill me.”

Jabber doesn’t care much about the boss or the meeting or why Zanka’s got pulled into the middle of it. He’s trying to get Zanka to kiss him again without directly initiating. Zanka smirks at the attempts and doesn’t give him what he wants.

After another few minutes pass, Zanka stands up and dumps Jabber off his lap. He goes to the bathroom to double check that his hair looks okay and wonders what else there is to stress about. Maybe he should try and rid himself of all Cleaner garments, but he doesn’t have anything to wear in their place.

When he leaves to go back to the living room, the lady is already there. Her portal is floating in the middle of the room, but the colors swirling around in it don’t let you see where it leads.

It’s not the first time that Zanka’s seen the jinki, but it’ll be the first time he uses it. It can’t hurt, or Jabber would rave about it and all the other Raiders would complain about it. Still, he isn’t sure that he wants to get in the portal.

“Zodyl’s waiting,” Cthoni says as she climbs through the floating circle.

“The bossman,” Jabber explains as he puts one foot in and reaches out a hand to Zankal. 

Well great, if he didn’t want to go before, now he really doesn’t. Their boss is waiting specifically for him? Hell nah.

He hesitantly reaches out to take Jabber’s hand, “You owe me big time.” Jabber smirks and pulls him through.

The sensation of the portal is indeed bizarre. The colors on the surface of the portal swirl and stretch like their sense of gravity is altered, and Zanka’s body feels the same way as he travels through.

He doesn’t grip Jabber’s hand tightly, because it’d be embarrassing, but he doesn’t let Jabber take his hand away either. Admittedly, he feels like if he loses that anchor then he’ll just get pulled apart by the portal’s weird forces.

Then as quickly as they started, the sensations end. Zanka was just in the portal for a second, and yet he made it seem like minutes and minutes. Maybe he was being a tad dramatic.

He gathers his bearings and looks up to see another apartment building. Some meeting they’re having if it’s in one of the member’s living rooms. Didn’t they have safehouses where they could hold a proper meeting?

Jabber beelines for the couch like he owns the place and shouts out a question as he goes, “What food we got? Oooh, can I get aux?”

Headphone girl responds, “You can’t get aux because some of us didn’t put speakers in the walls of our temporary residences.”

Jabber waves a hand dismissively, “My landlord’s dead, he don’t care.” He plops down on the sofa and pats the cushion next to him, indicating that Zanka’s meant to sit too. He’s the only one sitting down though, and Zanka chooses to stand behind the couch so he doesn’t look like a slacker. Not that he cares what the Raiders think of him.

The Raider boss moves to the front of the room where he’s in everyone’s line of sight. Zanka can feel his fingers tighten around his staff without permission. He is not fighting the Raider boss in front of every other Raider there is.

“First of all,” The boss commands the room naturally. Zanka never had that ability.

He looks straight at Zanka, “New member.”

Zanka’s eyes widen. He absolutely did not agree to that but also isn’t about to disagree in a room full of powerful Raiders. Fuck man, how did he even get in a room full of Raiders?

“We’ll get you a proper uniform soon,” The boss promises, “And you can get rid of those Cleaner remnants." Zanka really feels like telling him that he’s okay without a uniform.

“Son of a gun,” The man with the prosthetic arms interrupts, “You used to be one of them Cleaners. You’re the one Jabber fought in the trash beast, that’s why I recognize you!”

Headphone girl cocks her head, “You really didn’t recognize him?”

“To be fair, he was busy with his two in the trash beast,” Cthoni defends.

“Barely,” Jabber argues, “I was the only one that actually fought my person.”

“I believe Noerde fought hers,” Cthoni says.

“Wait,” Zanka mutters to Jabber, “Were we the only two that fought?” Of course he was the only one that fell for the Raider’s attempt at baiting him into attacking.

“Second order of business,” The boss pushes through the interruption, “You need to learn us, our names and our vital instruments.”

Zanka can’t help but feel curious at that, and if he can learn helpful information for the Cleaners-

“No reporting to the Cleaners,” Headphone girl says, interrupting his mind. Getting read is so annoying, she can now predict every thought he thinks.

“Fine,” Zanka grunts, lamenting the lack of usefulness to his original team.

The Raiders all go around and say their names. Zanka thinks he can remember Cthoni and Zodyl, but everyone else is gonna take some work.

Headp- wait no, what was her actual name… Mable?

‘Mable’ approaches Zanka, “You should have some of the food. You’d like it.” She nods at Jabber too, indicating that the pair are both meant to eat. It’s probably a wise decision as neither of them had dinner the other day. While Zanka’s definitely eating more delicious food with Jabber, routine meal times have all but disappeared.

Jabber leads the way to the counter, which really isn’t that difficult as it’s like five steps away from the couch, and starts scooping in food onto a plate for himself. Zanka stands behind him and judges his eating decisions.

“You’re really eating all that by yourself?” Zanka asks sceptically, gesturing to the pile of food.

“Hey, the food is free right now. I’m taking as much as I can,” Jabber shrugs.

A heavy hand suddenly pats Zanka’s shoulder. The weight feels just like how Gris would do it, and Zanka turns around quickly to see that it’s just Boondy, or something.

“Name’s Bundus kid,” He corrects. Uh-oh, did he say Boondy out loud?

“So far’s I understand it, you’s an ex-Cleaner?” Bundus’ tone drops as he leans into the private conversation. Jabber stops scooping food in order to listen better, looking curious.

“Yeah, I am,” Zanka admits. He feels a bit weird saying it for reasons he can’t explain. He doesn’t want to be an ex-Cleaner. It’s probably just the ‘ex-’ part.

“How are Bro and Dear doing?” Bundus inquires seriously. Zanka stares, trying to gauge if he’s joking.

“How do you know them?” He asks.

“We had a go at it in the trash beast,” Bundus clarifies, “Just like you and Jabber over there. Poor Dear seemed tuckered out though, I reckon it was past his bedtime.”

Zanka sure hopes the old men aren’t like Zanka and Jabber, but he quickly pushes that idea out of his mind because he thinks he’ll throw up if he imagines Bro kissing anyone. Zanka doesn’t know what Bundus’ real end goal is, but it probably couldn’t hurt to make him think that Bro and Dear are fighting fit.

“They’re doing great,” Zanka tells him, “Dear’s jinki is coming along nicely.” To his surprise, Bundus genuinely smiles at this and pats his shoulder again. The heavy pressure does feel nice, familiar.

The other Raiders all walk up to him with questions and demands for insider information. It seems like Bundus was the only one that wasn’t looking to try and take down the Cleaners, something Zanka doesn’t understand.

He’s in the middle of a pie when the boss clears his throat. He stands right behind Zanka, it’s really anyone's guess as to whose attention he wants.

Zodyl opens his mouth, and Zanka braces himself for whatever’s about to be said.

A flow of questions comes from Zodyl’s mouth. Each and every one about how to defeat the Cleaners. A section near the end of the line of questioning focuses on how to obtain the sphereite. He finishes by just asking general questions about Rudo, things that surely can’t help in a fight.

“Umm,” Zanka tries to remember all the questions but can only recall a few, “I don’t think so, but white? Maybe? Or maybe red? All sweets. Plunger probably, but really he uses anything. And like tiny I don’t know. Maybe four foot eleven?” His answers sound unsure, but Zodyl nods his head like they’re invaluable. 

Zanka goes to the couch where Jabber’s sitting again and makes himself comfortable, but remains a few feet away. Neither of them want to have physical contact in public. He raises his gaze to the ceiling and groans. Jabber laughs at him and continues eating.

“I don’t want to do any Raider missions,” He tells the general room, but thankfully only the other one on the couch hears.

“Too bad Zan-zan~” He teases, “Kinda seems like you’re a Raider now.”

“I hate you,” Zanka says weakly, thinking about how cathartic strangling Jabber would be.

“Awww Zan-zan~” Jabber croons, “You’re such a romantic.”

The rest of the ‘welcoming party’ passes quickly. Despite Jabber looking excited when Bundus brings out beer, Zanka couldn’t care less. He asks Jabber to go home, who argues with him at the request to leave, and Mable has to come to break up the beginning of a fight. Zanka and Jabber enjoy solving any and all problems by attacking each other, but it’s not a great solution when they’re in someone else’s house.

He has Cthoni drop him off at the apartment, and Jabber promises to return later as he slowly gets more and more wasted. His tolerance is impressive though.

Zanka feels like going to bed already, just to be disappointed with the sight of it still being daytime. Wow, Jabber’s day drinking. Although, that’s not exactly a surprise.

Guess he’ll just do some training while he waits.

“We spotted them at the marketplace in Sabinal City. They didn’t take a car, meaning they must live nearby and therefore are likely to visit it a lot,” The scout reports.

“Hm,” Kyouka hums, unimpressed. It depends on a lot of ‘if’s. What if they don’t actually live nearby? What if they don’t actually visit it a lot? They’ll have to do more scouting.

The scout is looking at her again, it seems he has something else to say.

“Yes?” She probes.

“We also spotted the two of them with other Raiders.”

Ah. That does make sense. If Zanka’s thrown his hat in the Raider ring then he’ll be with more than just the one they’ve already seen.

She turns to Goka, standing behind her and waiting for instructions. She could ask his opinion on the matter, but it’s likely to be unhelpful and she already knows what she wants to do.

“Keep searching for them. Next time you find them, call us and report it immediately.”

Goka looks at her with a question in his eyes, but she doesn’t respond out loud. Yes, she thinks, they have to take in Zanka.