Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Zanka’s heavy boots came to a stop behind Jabber as they reached the secluded alleyway. Jabber looked behind him with a shit-eating grin. “See? My sense of direction isn’t too bad!”

“Gold star for you. Ya know how to get from your apartment to a singular secondary location.” Zanka snarked. He looked downward at their still entwined hands and tried to subtly pry his hand away. Jabber wasn’t in the mood to relent, apparently, and he held on tighter.

Swinging their hands side to side, Jabber reasoned, “I’m better than that! I led you to that restaurant a while back, didn’t I? Does that get me two stars, teach?”

Zanka shook his head, “Nah, you totally got us lost. I only had to take like, three turns to get back to the main street.” Zanka kept trying to take his hand back, to no avail. “We were out there for twenty minutes at least, tryna find the place, idiot.”

Tugging now to pull Zanka forward, Jabber led them into the alley. “Ever thought I just like takin’ the scenic route? I remember you seemin’ to be pretty impressed with the backstreets I showed you.”

Huffing, Zanka retorted, “You didn’t show me those, you stumbled on ‘em.”

“Same diff”

The walls echoed their conversation slightly, like it was listening and responding. The world around them rapt in their rapport. “You can keep bein’ stubborn all you like, but I’d like my hand back now.”

Jabber laughed, “Trust me when I say you’ll want some help here in a second.”

Zanka cocked his head, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’ nefarious.” Jabber shrugged.

“That just makes me even more on edge.”

The alley looked just as unassuming in the day as it did the night prior. A chain link fence seemed to have blocked the entry to the alley at one point, but it had been twisted and shoved to the side. Its barbed wire looked to have been stripped from the top, now resting in a heap. It wasn’t all in one piece, however. Whoever exposed this spot had cut away sections of the wire at a time and had likely taken some for themselves. In addition to the dangerous piles of razor-sharp barbs, there were scattered crates that, through the wooden slats, Zanka could see were filled with things that looked to be made of glass. Among the mysterious crates, large puddles of varying colours stained the concrete. They might have been pretty if Zanka couldn’t guess at their origin.

“Jabber, I'd better not wake up with barbed wire in the bed if you’re the one takin’ this shit,” Zanka complained.

Jabber just dragged him closer to the mouth of the pit leading into the cavern. The wooden board was still askew from their entry last night. “I don’t have that kinda stuff at my place,” Jabber said. “Toxins and poisons that’ll burn your eyes outta your skull or turn your stomach into gloop? Sure.” He smiled, “But I keep my odder tools and resources back at the base camp. Stuff I don’t care about as much.” Jabber took the first step into the tunnel, hand still clasped with Zanka’s.

Zanka hummed, “Is the rest of this stuff yours?” He allowed himself to be helped down. His boot sank into the mud, and he nearly slipped again. Zanka immediately righted himself, but he knew Jabber had felt the minute tensing in his hand, and knew he had slipped. Jabber’s smile got just that bit wider.

Jabber nodded, “I’ve got some extra vials and other flasks I store out here. No one really comes this way.”

“Probably because they think they’ll get murdered.”

“The bloody wire and the spilt chemicals totally help the spooky image, don’t they? Keeps the freaks away from my spot!”

“Only ‘cause you’re the biggest psycho around.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment from you, Zan-Zan.”

Zanka felt the urge to push the man down the steep slide of mud. Unfortunately, that would just leave him without a stable support and would inevitably bring mud back onto his clothes. He settled for pinching his hand.

They continued to slide down the tunnel together until Jabber slowed and stopped them. “You slid right past it, but there’s actually another exit outta this hole. Leads to a different spot. We coulda’ fought there before,” Jabber smiled, “but I wanted to fight you in the cave. It’s got a better atmosphere."

“You have no care for yer environment, do you?” Zanka replied, exasperated.

“I don’t care about it as long as you’re in it,” he returned slyly. “Besides,” Jabber went on, ignorant of Zanka’s face flaming in the darkness, “you went above my expectations! Didn’t damage a thing. So there’s nothin’ to worry about, is there?”

Zanka pushed Jabber ahead, “Just shut up and go.”

At that, Jabber dropped his hand and disappeared from sight abruptly. Where did he go?! “Asshole!” Zanka yelped undistinguishably.

Left without the steady support he had grown reliant on in the shadowed pit, he began clumsily sliding down. He tried to grasp the walls, but they provided him with little to no purchase. His fingers slipped along the smooth, wet stone. And suddenly, there was no wall to grip at all.

His body had been pressed against it, trying to slow his descent, but now, without even that support, he immediately fell forward. Zanka went to reach for Lovely Assistaff—with the intent of plunging her into the muddy ground as one might use an ice pick on a snowy mountain—but familiar hands caught him once again. He was pulled further into the small side tunnel. Zanka frowned. He was getting tired of needing this guy’s help to not simply faceplant into the ground. How was he so good at moving around on this terrain, anyway? Maybe it was that he had so much confidence oozing out of him that his feet just magically knew how to position themselves. Or maybe it had something to do with his ridiculous shoes. Either way, Zanka was now in the position of a damsel in Jabber’s arms, and he wanted to tear them off with his teeth. “Do you usually trust just anyone to catch you? Or am I the exception?" Jabber teased.

“Oh, can it. And I’m not saying thank you.” Zanka remarked, feet now firmly planted on the ground. The mud had disappeared, replaced with hard stone that his boots gratefully got along well with. Jabber still had one of his hands entwined with his own, and another supporting Zanka’s lower back. His eyebrow twitched—it looked like Jabber had dipped him in the middle of a dance. Zanka’s mind was surely playing tricks on him. How could this be the man his brain fixated on? The impish grin he wanted to press his own lips to? He should pay a visit to August’s grandmother. Maybe he had a bad case of viral encephalitis. That would surely be preferable to whatever bug had drilled itself into his head and made a home—decorating the space with idiotic images of a Raider with a taste for toxins.

Jabber lifted Zanka back up with a rough tug. Zanka, embarrassed, wrenched his hand away a little too quickly. He had to resist the desire to wipe away the dirt clinging to his pant legs, knowing an unclean palm would only serve to irritate him more.

“Sure you don’t need me to hold your hand any longer? What if you trip again, Zan-Zan?” Jabber wiggled his fingers.

“My stumblings are manufactured by yer idiocy. Keep yer hand wavin’ in my face, and I’ll chop it off, how about that?”

“You’re such a charmer,” Jabber said, hands pressed together under his face.

“Where are we going now?” Zanka questioned. His voice reverberated in the dark. Just how far did this tunnel go? He wondered. There was a dim light from the surface that barely made its way down to their level, but as the hole stretched on any light seemed to be swallowed up and snuffed out.

The stone walls had strange markings on them. Lightened strips of rock ran in even vertical lines. Zanka reached out and touched one of them; it was indented slightly. It must have been opened using explosives. Looked to have been a rush job, however. The stone was jagged here, where it was smooth on the outside. Did the people working on it leave it abandoned?

“There’s another big open space down this way. You can wreck it all you want, so don’t worry about a thing, Mr Bad Attitude. It’s a total junkyard.”

They began walking further into the hollowed earth. Jabber ran his fingers along the wall, totally cafefree. Meanwhile, Zanka was fighting every instinct in his body telling him to bring Assistaff out and have her at the ready. Maybe he really was placing too much trust in this guy. This is the second time he’s allowed the punk to lead him into a dark and creepy hole in the ground. Zanka did have to begrudgingly acknowledge his appreciation for the last spot. He almost found himself wishing they could’ve continued down that muddy slide back to the glittering cavern, but he really didn’t want to risk ruining it. He was glad for whatever alternative Jabber was bringing them to now. The environment of a fight mattered little to him. As long as he had his opponent’s full attention, he couldn’t care less where he was. Jabber, on the other hand, apparently had a flair for the dramatic.

The stone slowly began transforming into something neater—more polished. Carved bricks appeared along the walls, and a smooth granite tile made their footsteps sound crisp in the still air. A wire ran along the roof of the tunnel, and electric lights were hung on it periodically. Zanka was a bit disappointed that they weren’t exactly in working condition. As they continued their trek, the light from the surface became dimmer and dimmer.

Despite the low light level, Zanka discovered that his eyesight wasn’t suffering in the slightest. It seemed as though the second it got uncomfortably dark for Zanka to see clearly in, they adjusted for him, and perhaps were even more perceptive than they had been in the light. Zanka could make out in incredible detail the tiny pebbles and piles of gravel and debris built up along the path. Each crack in the brick lining appeared to him like they were desperate for his attention. It was a little overwhelming. He blinked, attempting to understand his new condition. Though he could see perfectly well, colours had left his vision. Jabber had been wearing mostly black, so he wasn’t the best reference for testing his eyesight, but he could’ve sworn his coat had fine purple detailing. Now it looked like it was simply black and grey. The pinkish granite tiles had similarly faded to a dull grey. Were they another side effect of his vampiric form?

“Hey,” Zanka called out. “Is there somethin’ weird goin’ on in here or is it just me?”

“Weird? What kind of weir—“ Jabber spun on his heel and turned to face him, but cranked up his volume mid question, “Weird!? Beyond weird!” He affirmed loudly.

Zanka flung both hands to his face. “What!? What’s wrong!?”

Grabbing Zanka’s hands and tugging them out of the way of his face, he got in closer and shook his head violently. “Not wrong! Definitely not! This is fucking sick as hell! You’re glowin’, man!”

“Glowing?” Zanka asked, astounded

“Like a glowstick at a rave!”

“You’ve never been to a rave.” Zanka dismissed.

“Yes, I have.”

“Who would invite you to a rave?”

“You’re assuming I was invited.” Jabber retorted snootily.

“You seriously crashed a rave? And yer proud of that?” Zanka asked, curious now.

Jabber waved his hand, which consequently waved Zanka’s wrist as Jabber had yet to let go. “You’re getting off track. The point is, your eyes are like lightbulbs. Doesn’t that usually only happen when givers activate their jinkis?” Jabber brought Zanka’s hands back towards his face, just hovering a few centimetres away so Zanka could see the shine reflecting on his palms. “Huh, they really are.” He admitted sulkily. Sure! Why not? Horns, teeth, ears, why not glowing eyes, too?

Jabber laughed at his misery. “They’re crazily dilated too! I can’t even see the red anymore!” He snorted suddenly, “dude you look more and more cat-like by the day. What’s next, a tail?”

Using Jabber’s hold on him to his benefit, he pulled sharply to bring him close and landed a swift punch to his gut. The clown fell to his knees, but his chortles continued in the quiet passageway. Zanka left him. Stewed in his offence at the continued feline comparisons. Kuro was the one family member that he knew of who could fully control his form to look like any animal. If Zanka was similarly gifted with an ability like that, he swore he was going to cut Jabber’s throat out for jinxing him.

A few seconds later, he heard rapid footsteps and felt a presence glomming itself onto his back. “C’mon, Zan-Zan. Wouldn’t it be cute? I’m imagining it already. Hey! Drink some more of my blood. Maybe it’ll inspire your body to get creative—“

The Raider was cut off with a sharp cough as Zanka threw him off his back. Idiot. Scuzzball. Shameless. He clenched his fist. “If yer trying to get me to want to punch you more—don’t worry. I don’t think it’d be possible for me to wanna pound you more than I do right now.”

“You know just what to say to me to get me worked up, don’t you, Zanka?”

The filthy expression Jabber was wearing made his skin crawl in an odd way. He quickly turned away and kept going down the passage. Jabber’s light footsteps followed him until they finally reached the end of the tunnel.

The tunnel dropped off steeply into a grand room. It was a large train station, complete with a massive train that stood prettily in its rightful place on the smooth metal rails. Still shining as it must have in its youth. Zanka took notice of how strange it was that the space was bereft of any graffiti or other signs of life. The only trash was contained within a few bins scattered along the walls of the station. High metal pillars stretched high above their heads in an industrial style, and there was a great expanse of exposed structural and mechanical elements across the ceiling. Zanka could spot hefty steel trusses and ductwork. He supposed there were still old air vents connected to the surface. It was a miracle no one had stumbled on this place and tagged it. The desire to let slip the location to Remlin flitted in the back of his mind. They’d probably love to have a fresh canvas to work with.

As he breathed in the stale air, he looked to his side to glance at Jabber. Who cares when the last time these lights or this train were up and running—when was the last time someone other than Jabber walked in this space? The last time another human being existed down here? While Jabber was gone earlier in the day, he had snooped around his apartment. He found zero evidence of another person occupying the space. No photos of friends or family. No letters, presents, or special days marked on his calendar. He’d found Jabber’s guest room and wondered when the last time he had actually cared about keeping his space tidy was. It was obvious from the haphazardly placed objects in that hidden-away room that they had been hurriedly swept away and hidden from the public eye. Cleaned only for the arrival of someone new. Perhaps it wasn’t only Zanka trusting Jabber any longer. Perhaps it hadn’t been from the beginning. Of course, Zanka reasoned, a bit narcissistically, my secrets are monumentally more detrimental than his. But it was something, wasn’t it? Jabber was showing him pieces of himself. Through small stories exchanged while strong hands brushed dye in his hair, or with these secret catacombs. Zanka frowned.

The idea of telling Remlin about these places suddenly became less appealing. No, I’d better not.

Jabber looked to be fiddling with something metallic on the wall. Zanka was about to go over to investigate when he was abruptly assaulted with a flash bang. He pressed his palms over his eyes with a squawk while an irritating voice exclaimed, “Ta-da! Let there be light!”

“You tryna blind me, shithead?!” he could hear Jabber laughing, and Zanka slowly blinked open his eyes, tears welling in the corners at the sudden brightness.

“Just look!” Jabber jeered.

Colour had flooded back into his vision, and he could now appreciate the station in its full glory. His eyes returned to normal—or, back to his new normal of a freakish beady red—and the room now glowed in their stead.

“The lights worked all this time?” Zanka questioned, still somewhat peeved at Jabber not warning him of the attack.

“Oh, no. They were super duper busted up. Luckily for me—“ he pointed at a door in one of the walls, “—there was a room that had a manual! Imagine that! A whole book that teaches you how to fix the electricals! Took me weeks to figure out the technical jargon and what wires will or won’t fry your brains out, but I got it up and runnin’!” Jabber grinned brightly, “I might’ve also had to pester some folks up in the city, and had to connect it to a power source that is defo not aware of why their electrical bill is so damn high, but it’s worth it, no?”

“I’d say it’s more worth it than yer hobby of drugging and maiming people.”

“That pastime has its merits too, don't even try to deny it.”

“I don’t need to deny anything. They’re objectively wrong practices.”

“I find beauty in them,” Jabber exclaimed.

“I can at least admire your passion for seein’ the imaginary charm to the ugly things. Takes a certain kind of crazy to be able to do that.”

Jabber elbowed him. “Like you’re not standin’ here next to me. You callin’ yourself crazy?”

Zanka paused for a moment. He looked the man up and down, and in a moment of boldness decided, “Yeah. Maybe I am.”

Zanka refused to stand there in his cool facade for even a moment longer. Didn’t want to turn and see the face, surely barely containing its laughter.

He spared himself the stab at his dignity by dropping into the station. A staircase easily allowed him safe passage down to the floor. Zanka had explored hundreds of abandoned spots on the ground, but they had never been as perfectly preserved as this one was. The stairs, where elsewhere might have crumbled away, stood just as they had the last day they’d experienced heavy foot traffic.

Maybe someone in his family could recall a day when a railway system used to run.

Jabber interrupted his musings with a comment of his own. “This place is actually how I found that other cave.” He gestured at the tunnels the train likely used to use in its prime, “these tunnels run all over the ground if you know where to look. If you’re really interested in finding the Raider’s hideout, you can follow one of these out. I couldn’t tell you which one, though,” he rubbed the base of his neck, “I honestly only ended up here because I got lost tryna find my room. These tunnels zig-zag and branch off at so many different points.”

“And yer still trying to argue for yer good sense of direction?”

Jabber pointed a thumb at himself. “Maybe I’m just guided by the universe. You expect me to go against the universe?”

Zanka huffed a small laugh at his rebuttal. “I forgot you showed up hours late to yer own ambush. Late for our first fight.”

“Late, or right on time?” Jabber asked, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“Guess I should ask the universe.” Zanka shrugged.

Jabber laughed loudly, “I wasn’t sure you had a funny bone in your body, Zan-Zan. Always so serious!”

“No, I’m usually a delight to be around. Yer presence just winds me up. Ya simply got to catch a glimpse of my regular self.”

“I could think of some other ways to wind you up,” Jabber smiled mischievously.

Zanka glared at him dubiously, “I’m not even gonna entertain the idea that you have any experience in that field.”

“I’m plenty experienced!” he cried, slapping a hand over his heart in mock offence.

“Oh, really?” Zanka deadpanned.

“Don’t go assumin’ other people's sexual prowess, Zanka. You could really hurt a guy’s feelings!”

“Okay—ya know what—no. I’m not—not talking about sexual prowess with you. This conversation is verging on some weird alternate universe shit.” Zanka said with a shiver.

Jabber grinned at him, “You’re missin’ out!”

“Stop, stop. That’s enough.” Zanka needed Jabber to stop talking about anything related to-to sex in the next few seconds, or he was going to explode. He didn’t need those images planted in his head. Of course, thinking about not thinking about them meant they were already worming their way into his consciousness. He could feel a flush creeping up his neck. Was Jabber experienced?

There was no way, he dismissed. A guy like that? But the silent doubt crept its way in. Something about the thought of Jabber with other people twisted his stomach painfully. Could there have been a time when someone meant something to Jabber beyond just an opponent? Was there someone out there whom Jabber thought of fondly—who he wished would share that empty apartment with him?

He gazed at the head of the man walking around the abandoned station, and realised he despised the notion that anyone could have wrapped their hands around his neck the way he had. Could have bitten and scratched along his throat and down his chest, and Jabber probably would have liked it, too. Would have welcomed the pain—the masochistic jerk.

Zanka bitterly thought whoever this supposed person was didn’t deserve to know Jabber like that.

He gazed at the station’s ceiling. Sighed. What was he even thinking? This was getting ridiculous. Didn’t deserve to know him? Who was he to make that call? Zanka was simply Jabber’s latest fascination. If he weren’t a vampire, would Jabber even be here with him right now? Spare him a second thought? He’d be like the rest of the Cleaners. A decent opponent, maybe, but wouldn’t linger in his mind. He wouldn’t be singled out and sought after in and out of missions. Zanka’s hand tightened into a fist, and crescent moons were carved into his palm. He really wasn’t anything without these powers. He would have lost against Jabber without them. Jabber probably would have offered him up to the trash beast. All of his teammates made it out on their own. Zanka was the only one who needed help.

Zanka couldn’t believe his mind had wandered this far from just thinking about Jabber having sex with someone. What a fool I am, he reflected. A simple, ordinary, average fool.

But now he was thinking about who Jabber surrounded himself with. The Raiders weren’t the nicest bunch to be around, he was sure. Who did Jabber have there with him, besides Cthoni? Was there anyone he was really friends with in that band of thieves?

He was curious. Not only to find out if Jabber really did have any kind of sexual experience, but also if he had much experience with others at all.

—

This day had taken an extremely entertaining turn for Jabber. He had been expecting to deal with a moping Zanka all day, and now here they were about to fight! Joking even! Jabber thought cheerfully.

What kind of powers was Zanka going to unleash on him? He remembered him being much faster and assuredly stronger, too, the last time they fought when he was in this state. And back then, Zanka didn’t even have the horns or tomato-red hair either. Jabber was grinning madly, and he pinched his lower lip with his fingers, considering. Zanka was already a brilliant opponent without the power-ups. He suffered from that irritating imposter syndrome shit, though. Held himself back from reaching his true potential. It was incredibly gratifying to watch such a guy struggle against his own self-imposed limits. How could he have decided he was average? Jabber wanted to pull his hair out just thinking about it. Hopefully, with a forced upgrade, Zanka’d put up a better fight.

A voice interrupted the mad giggling he hadn’t even realised he’d started.

“You mentioned yer room, do all Raiders have their own spots like that?” Zanka asked.

The question threw him for a moment. “Room? Oh! Yeah, yeah. We’ve all got a separate little space. Mine’s more like another storage container, though. I don’t know what the other Raiders use their rooms for.”

“Are the Raiders close at all?”

Jabber laughed, “Nope, just like-minded in the single way that we all enjoy our freedom. Outside of the Raiders, you’d be more likely to see us try to kill each other than act all happy-family like. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s how more an’ a few of us have died. Squabbles and spats gone too far.” It was definitely a lively bunch of people. All eccentric and self-centred. Jabber was like that, too, of course, but he wasn’t as interested in fighting for the sake of ‘revenge’ or ‘pride.’ If his opponent was strong, he’d fight them. Didn’t care if he won or lost, just that he got a good beating. He didn’t mind if they were overwhelmingly too strong for him—that just showed him how much further he needed to push himself. It kept his brain occupied. Jabber hated boredom more than anything. That was one of the main reasons why he had joined the Raiders in the first place.

The days before them trickled by at a snail’s pace. Every day, he’d wake up with the remnants of a different drug in his system from the night before. Endless tests and experiments were done on his own skin. Occasionally, he’d bring in some sorry guy off the street—usually someone that deserved it: rapists, abusers, traffickers—and use them as his test subjects when his body physically couldn’t take it anymore. His apartment complex now had more than a few bodies buried in the basement and skeletons in the closets.

Toxins could overwhelm and numb his mind in the most wonderful way. Even now, he’d use his body as a subject for his experiments. The battles he fought still not quite scratching the itch he longed for. The Raiders gave him a good distraction, but it wasn’t enough. There was a feeling missing in him. One that the drugs and poisons could imitate, but didn’t exactly reach. In the moment the line blurred between consciousness and a full loss of control, he could just barely brush against it with his fingertips. An odd sense of euphoria that gave him the phantom feeling of his heart being full. Floating on a cloud and full of something he wasn’t sure he’d known for a long time. Though artificial, it allowed him a brief reprieve from the malaise caused by his humdrum world.

“The Cleaners aren’t like that at all,” Zanka said, bringing Jabber out of his stupor.

“I know,” he affirmed. Jabber had seen the way they interacted on the battlefield. How they worked together—cared for one another. It was kind of sickening if he was being honest. These powerful people allowed themselves to be controlled—limited—by their compassion. They couldn’t go all out with each other as the Raiders could. Which was just another reason why Zanka’s involvement with the Cleaners boggled his mind. Why would Zanka limit himself because of something as arbitrary as feelings? He could be so much more if he stopped holding himself back. Stopped comparing himself to other people or worrying about how he was perceived.

Jabber wasn’t built for a group like Zanka’s. He didn’t belong with feelings so soft and gentle.

Zanka spoke again, “You have Cthoni, though, right?”

“What?” Jabber said, mildly surprised at Zanka’s question. “Yeah… I guess.” He scratched at his wrist, thinking, “The woman doesn’t want to slime me out, but she doesn’t, like, hang out with me or anythin’.”

Zanka went quiet after that. He turned and looked at the expression Zanka was wearing. Jabber squinted his eyes, suspicious, “What’s with all of these questions, anyway? You’re makin’ my skin crawl.”

And he was. Jabber wasn’t used to thinking about these sorts of things—relationships, feelings, his rationale and values—but Zanka was very suddenly making his mind unconsciously consider all of them. Being around the man seemed to have that effect on him.

“It’s nothin’, idiot. It’s just—that sounds…lonely.” Zanka admitted.

Jabber bristled. This was venturing into an area he was not as prepared to deal with today. This was supposed to just be a fun fight. He had been hoping for some banter—teasing and taunting. The usual. He was glad Zanka wasn’t as depressed as he had been yesterday, but he didn’t want that to come at the cost of talking about boring things like his nonexistent loneliness. If he was offering anything up about himself, it was going to be voluntary. He wasn’t keen on being prodded at.

Jabber’s mood swung like a pendulum, “I don’t need to be consoled. I’m not you. I don’t need the power of friendship to get me outta tight spots.” He exclaimed hotly, “I’m perfectly fine on my own. It’s better, actually.”

Looking at Zanka’s face, he could tell the jab had done its job. Zanka’s previously curious and somewhat relaxed expression had tightened up. A perplexed sort of hurt in his eyes. Jabber didn’t regret it.

Zanka responded well enough to Jabber’s barb. “Did that sound like I was consolin’ ya? Throwin’ you a pity party? I ain’t gonna do shit like that, scuzzball. If ya wanna go gallavantin’ off on yer own, I sure as hell ain’t gonna miss you.”

They fell silent for a few beats, softly glaring at each other. Jabber relented first. These kinds of tense, sombre moods were totally off-putting. Ruined the good mood they had going on before. He sighed, “Okay, whatever you say, Mr Bad Attitude. This is bumming me out. Didja want to fight or not?”

Zanka’s shoulders lowered half a centimetre, the tension shifting within them from protecting against the dreary atmosphere to preparing for a physical fight.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Zanka drawled.

“That’s what I wanna hear, man!” Jabber hopped from foot to foot, pendulum swinging back the other way. “We doin’ with jinkis or without?”

Zanka thought for a moment before grabbing Lovely Assistaff from his back. He ran a finger along her wooden surface and spoke, “Without, first. If my physical capabilities have been changed, I don’t want to risk her bein’ damaged.”

Jabber jutted a hip out and held up a peace sign. “Sounds like a plan to me! I’ll tell Mankira to behave, but she has a mind of her own, so no promises, m’kay?”

While Zanka set Assistaff down safely to the side, Jabber stretched his arms and legs out. This was what he had been waiting for. He could still taste the unpleasantness in the air, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with that. There was something much more pressing he wanted.

Zanka strolled back over, “You said ya almost lost to me back in the trash beast, didn’t you?”

“Hey now,” Jabber exclaimed, “you caught me off guard. There were a lot of different things goin’ on at the time!”

“Mhm,” Zanka hummed.

“Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is? Let’s get to it—!” Jabber was interrupted by a figure whizzing past him. A strong wind followed the shape, and he realised that Zanka was now missing from in front of him. Jabber looked around wildly, searching for where the guy could’ve gone. What the hell was that?!

Before he could do anything else, he heard a groan from behind. Jabber whipped his head around and saw Zanka shaking pulverised stone off of his head and out of his hair. There was a large crater where, Jabber supposed, Zanka’s head had just been. Zanka was rubbing at his forehead, and Jabber watched as the redness slowly disappeared. He looked put out.

He couldn’t take it. Jabber burst out laughing—pointed a finger at Zanka and cackled at his form on the ground. The tenseness that had been lingering in the atmosphere was immediately dispelled.

Zanka growled and went after him again. Somehow, he used even more power the second time. Jabber was doubled over at the sight of Zanka’s fingertips stuck in the ceiling from where he had desperately tried to defend his head. Now he was hanging there miserably while Jabber was laughing away.

“What the fuck are you doin’, man?” Jabber said through tears.

“Does it look like I know?!” Zanka screamed down at him. With one rough tug, he successfully freed a single hand. He smiled brightly at the sight before the other hand slipped out alongside it, and he plummeted back towards the ground. Jabber easily could have caught the man, but sidestepped him at the last second.

He stared down into Zanka’s widened eyes as he recovered from having the air knocked out of him. Jabber smiled. “That’s a good look on you, Zan-Zan. Think I’ll be able to force that expression outta you again?”

Through trembling breaths, Zanka mumbled, “Shut” a cough, “up.”

“Eloquent. Can you sit up now? Or do ya need a hand again?”

Zanka scowled at him, and Jabber simply laughed. He backed away and allowed Zanka to push himself up. Dusting the debris off his coat, he returned his gaze to his opponent. Jabber loved having those eyes on him. His attention was as addictive and dangerous as the electricity running under the third rail. Jabber shifted his weight back into a firmer stance, prepared for whatever Zanka was going to throw at him next.

Unfortunately, right as Zanka moved his feet into position, he glanced at his hands worriedly.

Curious at the trepidatious expression, Jabber tilted his head at him in question.

“Something is seriously wrong,” Zanka said.

“No shit, bird-brain. You definitely got some kind of power-up. Didja not get the memo when your head flew into the roof? Or did that scramble your marbles up too good?” he bounced on his feet in his bubbling excitement, “C’mon, man! Let’s go again!”

Zanka responded warily, “I just flung myself into concrete and dented it. If I hit you too hard, I could literally cave yer damn head in.”

Jabber’s eye twitched, “Bro, don’t bail on me now, Zan-Zan. After all this?” Was he serious? Was he seriously concerned about hurting him too much? The fool had to be playing with him.

Zanka looked at the wall—the evidence of his lack of control. Jabber was getting ticked off. “You’re actin’ like you don’t try to knock my lights out with Assistaff on a regular basis.”

“That’s intentional, shithead. I’d be pissed if I killed yer sorry ass by accident. If I’m goin’ ta end you, it’ll be because I chose to. Yer not allowed to die without my say so.” Zanka’s eyes grew firmer in his resolve.

Jabber was sort of touched by the sentiment, “Zanka, you’re playin’ with my heartstrings here.”

“I’m serious, asshole!” Zanka shouted.

Immediately, Jabber shot back, “and you think I’m not? I’m not too keen on dyin’ either, but I’m here for a good time, not a long one.” He smiled, “I’d be more pissed if you held back on me than if you knocked my teeth out.”

“Try your skull instead.”

“Sounds fun! Let’s get to it.”

Zanka looked to the wall with a furrowed brow. Damnit.

Jabber decided to play the logical card. “Think about it this way. If this shit is stickin’ around, yeah? Then you’re gonna hafta learn how to control yourself anyway. I can take your hits,” Jabber took a step forward, “I can fight through the pain.”

His feet carried him further towards the hesitating Cleaner. Jabber steeled his mind. Fine, he thought. He would play a meaner game, then.

“You’ve got no one else, Zan-Zan. Just me in here with ya.” Jabber trailed around Zanka’s solid form, coiling and coiling until he came to a stop in front of him. He draped his arms around Zanka’s shoulders and leaned in close enough so he could feel Zanka’s shaky breaths. “And if you don’t start tryna take me apart with your hands in the next few minutes here,” he paused for effect, and withdrew just enough to take in the slight changes to Zanka’s demeanour—eyes dilating and shoulders jumping with Jabber’s taunts. “I’m leavin’.”

Zanka stilled. Perfect.

Though smiling madly in the confines of his own mind, Jabber lets his tone fall flat—bored. He dropped his hands from Zanka altogether. Jabber thought of Zanka strategically. Like a puzzle to be taken apart and put back together. A wall held together by tension alone. Where if he just moved the right brick, it’d all fall away beautifully. Jabber loved learning about the wall. Teasing and poking and prying at the wall. Knowing what made it shake or harden.

“I’m not interested in any newfound cowardice you’ve got in you. If you’re plannin’ on stoppin’ here and now, I’ll letcha go,” a lie, “won’t even chase after you,” another lie, “but know you’ll just be another sorry boring ass blendin’ into the crowd of subpar, cookie-cutter, run-of-the-mill, average nobodies.” Jabber didn’t mean a word of it. Told falsehoods for his own selfish desire to get a rouse out of Zanka. He’d do and exploit anything he could to get that result. Jabber knew he didn’t need to throw the first punch or threaten to bring out Mankira to bring out that monster. His words were enough.

And he was proven right not a moment later when he felt two firm hands on his chest—and then the sudden sensation of bricks digging sharply in his back. Jabber finally let his fevered delight spread across his face. He choked on air; surely something had broken, but what did that matter when his red-eyed beauty was charging at him with reckless abandon? Jabber narrowly avoided the strike at his chest—folded his body down and out of the way. While down there, he firmly grasped Zanka’s ankle and used the kick he inevitably threw to get him off to right himself across the room.

“There it is! Not so bad, is it?!”

“Shut up!”

Jabber cackled as Zanka approached him again in a hazy blur. He ran along the wall, crashes resounding behind him from Zanka’s powerful footfalls. How strong was he right now? Jabber almost slipped into a fantasy until familiar red hair appeared beside him again, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. Mesmerised by his opponent, he didn’t struggle when he was finally let go and sent into the hard ground. He stared up at Zanka for the brief moment he could until the man disappeared again—reappearing right before aiming a deadly punch to his head. For a guy who was nervous about killing him just a few moments prior, he seemed to have no qualms painting the floor with his brains now. Beautiful. This was what he remembered from their time in the trash beast.

Red eyes that promised a swift, bloody death if he couldn’t keep up with him. No holds barred. “Stellar,” he muttered before scrambling out of the way. Jabber was so used to using speed as his main defence against his opponents that this sudden shift was forcing him to get creative. Use Zanka’s inability to control his own movements against him. Zanka was someone who learned through endless practice. He was learning with every punch thrown—but not fast enough.

Zanka’s hand got stuck again, offering Jabber a few moments to reorder his thoughts. Jabber wasn’t one to shy away from a desperate situation. He constantly tried new methods, brain searching for the patterns in the chaos. This was where he thrived. Where he belonged. Zanka would get it eventually, he was sure. He’d understand.

“Fun, fun, fun! Doesn’t this feel so much better?! Lettin’ loose?!”

Zanka picked up a massive piece of debris, raised it above his head, and chucked it at Jabber from across the station. “Hell no! This is fuckin’ terrifyin’!”

Jabber laughed uproariously, “You’ve gotta go with the flow, man! Take it in stride!” He leapt up and grabbed hold of the still-spinning chunk of concrete. It, thankfully, landed Jabber-side up.

“You try feelin’ like you’ve got rockets attached to yer limbs!”

“Sounds like a challenge!”

He heard boots striking the ground, and then Zanka’s form disappeared again. Not gonna work on me again, man!

Jabber twirled around and landed a firm kick to Zanka’s side. Zanka didn’t let it slow down his momentum, kept coming back again and again—but at this point Jabber was growing used to his mad dashes and uncontrolled movements. It was kind of like fighting a wild animal. Though it felt like their actions were wholly impromptu and erratic, once you tried to see the pattern, you could predict their next strike, next bite. Zanka wasn’t seeing it. Typically, he was a guy who lived on patterns. Used strategy and planning to his advantage—but the increase in his natural abilities was throwing him off his game.

It was like he completely shifted in one direction, leaving the other behind. Jabber was giddy to imagine a world in which Zanka finally mastered both. Evened out the blade he’d been honing and hammering out and quenched it—Jabber was confident he’d find no other more radiant or dazzling than this single human being.

Zodyl was astounding in his consistent ability to beat Jabber down to a bloody pulp. He never hesitated to grant Jabber his reward for a job well done. Didn’t hold himself back or limit himself in front of him as his other teammates did. He was confident the man simply didn’t care if he lived or died. Jabber was a tool for him, at the end of the day. And he was more than happy with that arrangement, but what Zanka did to him was different. Jabber actively sought out more than just a quick fight here and there. He wanted more than that with Zanka.

Wanted to know what made him tick and what exactly brought out every unique expression from that brooding face of his. It wasn’t enough to see him laugh once or twice; Jabber wanted to live in the light that Zanka exuded. Turn it into a paste and absorb it into his skin. He was desperate to make him cry, make him smile, taunt him, strengthen him—be with him. Jabber hungered for the kind of face Zanka would make when he finally let go and allowed himself the freedom he deserved. Maybe it was cruel, maybe it was selfish—but what did that matter in the grand scheme of things?

Jabber landed a sweeping blow to Zanka’s feet. The man spun to right himself, pushing himself off the sturdy ground with his palms.

They continued their clash. Zanka occasionally forgetting his strength and landing himself flat on his ass, and Jabber more often than not scampering around the station to escape the overpowered attempts on his life. Eventually, they landed across from one another, mutually recognising the natural end to the skirmish.

“Feel any better, rocket-man?”

Zanka stretched out his lower back. “I think somewhere between the fourth and twentieth time I ate a faceful of brick and mortar, yeah, maybe a bit.”

“That’s progress!” Jabber chirped happily. “Wanna go at it with jinkis, now? Mankira’s feelin’ pretty lonesome…”

Sauntering over to Lovely Assistaff’s resting place, Zanka picked her up and swung her around a few times—testing her weight. He stroked her stalk devoutly and spoke, “Whaddya say, girl? Wanna join in the action?”

Skies above, was that seductive. Zanka was so, well, lovely with his jinki. Any jinki, for that matter. Jabber remembered the last time that loveliness was directed towards Mankira. His fingers danced all over her polished surface. Complimented and praised her. It made Jabber feel like little drummers were beating away at his heart.

“Mn, I think we’re ready,” Zanka affirmed.

Eagerly, Jabber brought out Mankira. She gleamed in the fluorescent lights of the underground station.

Saliva flooded up from underneath his tongue, and he had to swallow down his excitement.

Something strange happened when Zanka went to activate his jinki. Instead of that crystal clear blue—she turned red. Zanka stared at her, horrified, as she began her transformation. Her stalk went from that beautiful wood to a deep mixture of metals. Usually, she had a shiny, smooth surface. Now, it looked like she was coarse or bumpy. As though lava had bubbled and hardened into porous mounds of rock.

As the bright crimson light travelled the rest of the way up her stalk, other differences were clear to see. There were a few crooked kinks in that usually straight spine, and she seemed to be…moving? That had to be a trick of the light.

The metallic balls decorating the connection from the stalk to the curved, ‘man-catcher’ design were now triangular, pulsing red gems. And her spikes, well, they certainly were no longer simple spines. Now, there were ivory-coloured teeth sprouting crookedly in their place. They had flipped to their interior position. Though this was something Assistaff could already do, their placement seemed more intentional. Like they could actually close around their victim when Zanka had someone pinned. Smaller sporadic thorns and teeth stuck out along the maw-like curved end. Shit. Zanka was gonna fucking flip his shit.

Jabber cautiously slid his eyes back to Zanka’s. He saw in them their terror at the situation unfolding before him. Jabber couldn’t even imagine what the man was going through. Sure, the image was totally sick as hell, but a vital instrument was just that—it was vital to one’s life, one’s identity. To see it suddenly change was typically tied to a change in personality or outlook on life. So, for Zanka to be forced to watch his own jinki turn into something else before his eyes, the day after he had to witness his body transform as well, Jabber guessed it was a little much.

When Mankira had first uncovered her second form, Jabber had been ecstatic. But that was because they had worked so hard to get there together. She was made with the picture he had of her in his mind—a product of Jabber’s thoughts and desires. Zanka didn’t seem to have any say in what Assistaff looked like right now. Staring into Zanka’s eyes, he believed he was likely internally spiralling into an endless stream of self-blame. Was he thinking this was his fault? Probably.

Jabber decided to go with a more positive attitude this time. He ignored the gross expression Zanka still had on, and praised, “Wow! She’s got on a whole new look today! Those thorns look like they could tear me up somethin’ awful! I can see why you call her Lovely!”

Hm. Zanka didn’t appear to have heard him. He was still staring at her with big, beady eyes and a gaping mouth. Was this gonna have to be a whole thing again? Jabber was getting tired of having to deal with this every single time they went out. Zanka seriously needed to get his shit together.

Eventually, without looking away from his jinki, Zanka spoke. “Jabber. Jabber. She’s red.”

It was definitely going to be a whole thing.“Uh-huh.”

“She-she’s not. She’s not red. She can’t be. She’s blue. Blue.”

“Maybe she’s just tryin’ on somethin’ new. Why’re you hatin’ on that?”

“Blue. She’s blue. Jabber—she’s blue.” Zanka was shaking.

Jabber threw up his hands. “Crazy how I actually got that the first time you said that. Got any new observations for me?”

Apparently not. Zanka dissolved into a hysterical stream of repeating the word ‘blue’ over and over until it didn’t even sound real anymore.

The sound irritated the hell out of Jabber. He was not going to do this again. Zanka had to learn how to just deal. Jabber had nearly made the decision to walk over and hit the guy over the head again when Zanka jumped ahead of him.

Zanka started bashing his forehead against Assistaff’s bumpy stalk. Her tail end had snaked its way up his arm as though it had a mind of its own, and looked to be trying to stop Zanka to no avail. Drops of blood trailed down his face, getting caught on his lips. “Fucking hell, dude. You’re crazier than I am!” Jabber laughed. What the hell, if he was gonna stay down here with this freak of nature, he might as well enjoy the funny, nonsensical side of his situation. Seeing a guy like Zanka spazz out like this had its merits. He would probably be fine in a minute, anyway.

To his surprise, Zanka’s insane headbanging caused Assistaff to shift. As he continued to mutter to himself, that strong red light turned purple, and then gradually blended and flowed into blue once again. Her teeth turned metallic, and that living shaft became stiff and solid. Finally, she was back to normal. But that wasn’t all. That blue light enveloped Zanka as well. It bled into the red light seeping from his form and twisted it until it came away a clear blue. From there, his own transformation began. Or, de-transformation, Jabber should more accurately say, as Jabber witnessed those monstrous features slowly drain from Zanka’s body. Ears dulled to normal stubbed rounds. Those distinct red horns slowly disappeared back into his forehead as though they were made of a flimsy, collapsible plastic, and his eyes lost their ruby gleam. And finally, Zanka’s hair that they had spent so long trying to fix, magically returned to his soft light brown and dark black combo.

Jabber sighed. Disappointing.

Jabber found himself sort of mourning their new look, but at least Zanka would probably be—nope. Still headbanging.

“Yo, Zanka.”

Still going. Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Look at your girl, man. She’s all good again!”

More bangs.

“Your hair’s back to normal, too!”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Assistaff’s shiny metal was tarnished by Zanka’s blood.

Screw this. Jabber could allow Zanka’s bullshit, but he wasn’t gonna let this treatment slide. Especially when he knew Zanka was going to throw another fit if he realised what he did to her. Jabber marched over to Zanka’s dazed form and socked him straight in the jaw.

Jabber bent over Zanka, who had fallen to the floor. He fisted his hand in his shirt and brought their faces close. He spat, “You’re pissin’ the both of us off, man. You got a screw loose or somethin’?! Take one fuckin’ look and realise you brought her back to normal!”

Zanka’s eyes moved dazedly to where he still had Assistaff gripped in his hand.

Between one moment and the next, Jabber was confident someone just turned the lights on in Zanka’s head. The guy beneath him had the biggest smile Jabber had ever seen a person make. The electric buzz from the lights around them dulled in comparison to the trumpets going off in Jabber’s head from looking at Zanka’s manic grin. He painted a wonderful picture. Blood flowing freely from his headwound, eyes wide and shaky and slight tears springing up from the corners, and teeth on full display.

“Jabber, Jabber,” Zanka called, not looking away from his jinki.

“What’s good, man? You got your two braincells kickin’ or am I gonna hafta knock you around again?”

Zanka didn’t even respond to the taunt. Just kept on smiling. Jabber thought the stretch looked painful.

“I didn’t break her. She’s okay. She’s okay.”

“Yep. A-okay!” Jabber gave him a thumbs up. “She looked pretty badass there for a second, though!”

Zanka started laughing. He gripped Assistaff harder and dipped his head down, holding it with his other hand. His entire body was rumbling with the laughter spilling from his mouth.

“Thank goodness,” Zanka mumbled brokenly through hiccupping laughs, “I don’t know what I’d do if I hurt her.”

“Well, from what you said the last time you’d kill yourself,” Jabber responded matter-of-factly.

Zanka’s laughs kicked up again before sputtering out completely, like an engine giving its last few breaths before dying. He lay his back down on the hard ground and said, “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

“Have you even noticed you’re back to normal as well?”

Zanka screwed up his eyes at him, “What?”

“Did you not hear a word I said? You need hearin’ aids or somethin’? It’s not just lovely who’s back to basics.” He wrapped a strand of Zanka’s hair around his finger, “You’re all golden boy perfect again. Kinda lame if you ask me.”

“Perfect? What do you mean? I’m back to normal?”

Jabber coughed; that might have been the wrong word to use. “Yeah, you know—just—here.”

He lifted Zanka’s free hand up to his forehead, where he could feel the loss of his horns.

“How did I—?”

“No idea. Maybe you just brute forced it? Bashing your head made it go away?”

Zanka considered that before shaking his head. “No, if it was just strength of will, I would have definitely fixed all this—“ he gestured at himself, “—before. It’s gotta be somethin’ else.”

Jabber hummed, thinking. “I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“We?”

“Well, yeah. This is some of the screwiest shit I’ve seen.”

“Thanks,” Zanka said dryly.

Jabber chuckled, “You’re interestin’, Zan-Zan. I’m here to see where all this goes. Why would I willingly miss out on this kind of opportunity?”

“So you’re just stickin’ around because I’m a freak, is what yer sayin’?”

“Is that so bad?” Jabber cocked his head.

Zanka gazed up at the ceiling past Jabber’s head. “No. That’s about what I expected, anyway.”

That kind of response irked Jabber somewhat. Did he say something wrong? Was Zanka expecting something else? He didn’t get the chance to ask, however, as Zanka sat up and pushed him off.

“I won’t force you away if yer wantin’ to keep botherin’ me. But I don’t care much either way.” Zanka said that, but Jabber felt that he was still missing something.

A beat passed before Jabber recovered and realised another thing. “Oh, hey! You can go back now! To the Cleaners!”

Zanka whipped his head around and trained those wild eyes back on him. The insane grin was back, much to Jabber’s delight. “Yer right! Haha! Yes!” he pumped his fist in the air. Jabber thought his enthusiasm was cute.

After a moment, Zanka apparently realised something, too. “Wait, where’s my choker?”

Oh, right. “Don’t bitch at me now, okay? But I took that thing off of you last night.”

“You what?!” he shouted, outraged.

“Your Cleaner buddies kept callin’ and callin’ and screamin’ through the damn thing all night. You were sleepin’ like the dead, so I just took it off of you and put it in a drawer. Problem solved!”

“You cannot be that idiotic,” Zanka hissed.

Jabber shrugged, “It wasn’t like you could go and say ‘oh yeah, I’m totally super good! But actually, you can never see me again because I look like I crawled out from some messed-up kid’s fever-induced nightmare! Bye-bye now!’ and think nothin’ bad would come from it!”

“But it woulda’ been nice to know they were callin’ me at all! I coulda’ said something!”

“You’re a shitty liar. They wouldnt’a believed you”

“That’s not the point!”

Jabber picked at his ear, unbothered. “I don’t see what I did wrong. S’not like I threw it out. You can still go an’ call ‘em now if you wanna.”

“Fuck. They’re probably all panicking. And the window! I forgot about the window!”

“What window?” Jabber asked, perplexed.

Zanka pointed an accusing finger at him, “the one you broke! They probably think I was kidnapped!”

“Who would kidnap you? What would be the point?”

“I’m worth kidnapping! People would totally wanna kidnap me!”

“Chill, bro. This ain’t a competition. I’m sure you’d be kidnapped. Didn’t realise that was a sore spot for ya.”

“That’s so—“ Zanka took a breath, “—this is stupid. I don’t even know how we got here. I am leaving. Let’s go. C’mon. Out, out!” He shoved Jabber's back.

“Whatever you say, Fangs.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Jabber laughed as he led them both out of the tunnels and back up to the surface.

—

Zanka threw open the drawer in the spare bedroom as directed. Lo and behold, his wrist choker was inside. He shot a glare at Jabber, who was standing nearby, looking a little amused at his annoyance. Zanka nearly started berating the guy for hiding it until he caught the faintest sound of a voice coming from the bracelet.

Raising the device to his ear, he heard a very quiet mumbled string of, “Zanka, Zanka, Zanka,” from a dejected feminine voice.

“Hello?” Zanka called.

The chanting of his name continued. As he paused to listen a little closer, he came to the realisation that it was Riyo on the other end. Her voice was quiet and gravelly-sounding. How long had she been on the other end?

He cleared his throat, “Riyo…? Hello…? Can you hear me?”

The line quieted for a moment before what sounded like a chair clattering to the floor resounded through the device. “Zanka?! Zanka! Is that you?! Holy shit! You’re alive!”

Another pause, and then, “Enjin! Enjin! I got him! He’s here!”

A masculine voice came through the call in response, “Really?!” Enjin’s booming voice sounded both shocked and relieved all at once. Zanka felt like he was going to collapse from the embarrassment he felt from all this. He probably caused Enjin so much worry and unnecessary difficulty. Were there missions he missed out on? Things he could have helped with? One missed day could mean a whole bunch of things for the Cleaners.

“Hold on, I’m coming!” Enjin yelled from somewhere in the background. Heavy footsteps entered the room Riyo was in, and then Enjin was right on the mic. “Zanka, are you okay?! Where are you?!”

Zanka was mortified. He could hear the distinct sound of Jabber stifling a laugh with a cough. When he turned around to glare at the man, his angered stare only seemed to make it worse as Jabber dissolved into silent laughter that took him to the floor. What a scuzzball.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” Zanka placated, “I’m with… someone I know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? A friend? Goka or Kyouka? A random freaking man you met on the street?” Enjin demanded. Ah, great. Enjin was going into his overprotective mentor mode.

“I guess… a friend? Something like that…” Zanka made a face at Jabber, who was still dying on the floor, “Nobody dangerous.”

Jabber kicked him from his position, “Hey!” he whisper-yelled.

“Shut up!” Zanka bit out through his teeth.

A long-suffering sigh, and then, “Never mind, it doesn’t really matter. If you’re okay, get over here right now!”

“We are so totally pissed off at you!” Riyo yelled down the mic, her voice piercing. Zanka winced. He was going to have to sit through a very long scolding from her when he got back.

“Not pissed,” Enjin clarified, “she means she was worried.”

“Damn right! What the fuck were you thinking? You’ve got a shit load of explaining to do! And it better be good!” Riyo bellowed. And with that, the call clicked off.

Zanka tightened his fist around his bracelet, and then he turned around and beat Jabber over the head with it. “This is yer fault!”

“Why do you always say that!?” Jabber yelped, clutching his head with his arms as Zanka climbed on top of him to continue his barrage.

“Because it’s always true!”

“Bullshit!”

“You literally hid my choker from me! My main point of communication! Who does that?!”

Jabber returned, “Okay, maybe that was too far but still—ah!—“

Zanka repeated his blunt attacks to Jabber’s cranium until he was satisfied. He slumped over to the right of Jabber’s body and breathed out deeply, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“You’re totally fucked, Zan-Zan. T.B.H.”

“Don’t verbalise yer dumb acronyms to me, scuzz. Ya sound like a five-year-old.”

Jabber turned and placed a hand underneath his head, “Sounds like a cool ass toddler to me, Mr Bad Attitude.”

“Toddlers aren’t five,” Zanka argued pointlessly.

“What? They totally are.”

“No, they’re like—one to three.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“Okay, well, maybe you had the same level of intelligence as a toddler when you were five, but that’s not how it was for the rest of the world. I guess you were just behind.”

“You’re distractin’ yourself from leavin’, aren’t you?”

Zanka huffed, “That obvious, huh?” He got up and cracked his back. Time to face the music, I suppose.

—

Jabber stole another car and helped him along most of the way, but Zanka hopped out before they got too close.

“Still too embarrassed to be seen with me, Zanka?” Jabber taunted, leaning out of the car.

Zanka placed a hand on his hip, “You seriously wanna have this conversation again?”

Jabber laughed, “Maybe I’m just tryna lengthen our time together. Who knows when next we’ll meet! It’s like I’m seein’ you off to war.”

“I think I’ve been around you enough for one stretch a’ time,” Zanka replied untruthfully.

“Booring,” Jabber retorted mockingly. “Did you want another drink before you head off, though? Get enough to tide you over until you reach that base of yours?”

As much as Zanka wanted to say yes, to latch his mouth down on Jabber’s willing form yet again—he was a little paranoid that something would go wrong again. “No, I think I’ll be fine.”

Jabber seemed disappointed. “Whatever floats your boat. I’ll call ya! Or maybe I’ll see you out in the field first, who knows! Say hi to little red for me!” His eyes lingered on Zanka for a little too long to be normal, however. Like he was searching for something. Jabber shook his head.

And then he drove away.

Jabber’s absence grew heavier on him as he watched that poor random’s car disappear further and further into the distance. What an asshole. Making Zanka miss him. He kicked the rocks at his feet while he trekked back to the Cleaners’ headquarters.

—

The Cleaner’s dug-out base came slowly into view as Zanka approached on foot. He didn’t mind the walking, but he was growing rather hungry. Hopefully Corvus’s shipment came in while he was gone.

As the building grew larger as he got closer, Zanka could make out three distinct figures standing near the entrance. Great.

Rudo, Riyo, and Enjin were all waiting for him outside of the HQ. Rudo looked like he hadn’t slept a wink—which was saying something as the boy struggled with insomnia and nightmares on the best of nights. He was standing there with his signature angry scowl on and his gloved hands were balled into tight fists. His anxiety was evident in the way he shuffled from foot to foot, however. Zanka supposed he should have expected Rudo to react this way to his absence. He did get quite concerned when he noticed Zanka’s eating habits, after all.

Riyo looked similarly awful. Her hair was a mess and she had the beginnings of eyebags forming. Zanka was reminded of her voice on his choker, calling out into the void for him. Like Rudo, she also sported a mean expression, likely pissed that he hadn’t at least told her where he was going. They really did trust each other with a lot. Besides Zanka’s vampiric nature, she knew practically everything about him, and Zanka knew Riyo to the same degree.

Zanka did think that their reaction was a little extreme. He really wasn’t gone for that long. Just a night and most of the day. Other Cleaners up and disappear for weeks or months at a time. Hell, Enjin was probably the worst of them all. Zanka only found out that he was gone from word of mouth. It wasn’t like everyone was freaking out about Enjin’s lengthy trips. Why should Zanka be any different? He was old enough to make his own decisions at this point. He’d turn eighteen in just two months!

The first thing that happened was Enjin pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, and then grinding his knuckles into Zanka’s head like he was ten. The attention threw him off guard, happily, however. Critiques of his mentor disappeared the longer he was the subject of his affection.

Enjin said with relief, “Dude, we thought you were a total goner! We were out all morning looking for you, and there are three others gone out searching right now! Where the hell have you been, man?”

Three people? There were three people out there looking for him right now?! That’s insane! Zanka wasn’t worth that kind of manpower!

“I was with a friend?”

“A friend who breaks your window and doesn’t let you tell us where you were going? Did you take off your choker, too?” Riyo demanded.

“Okay, to be fair, I didn’t take it off. They did.”

“What?!” Riyo and Enjin shouted in unison. “How could you think that was a good idea? You got a death wish or something?!” Riyo finished.

“There were extenuating circumstances!” Zanka shouted back at her.

“Oh, I’m sure. Way more important than letting me know you were alive, right? Because that just doesn’t matter at all, does it?! Just like last time!”

“That’s not what I meant—“ Riyo stormed off, boots clomping heavily against the floor. “Riyo!” Zanka yelled after her, knowing it was no use.

Rudo finally spoke up, “Last time?”

Zanka had forgotten he was there. He turned to look at the boy, his frown deepened in confusion. “Nothing. She didn’t mean anything by it.”

Enjin swung an arm over his shoulder. “Oh, she sure meant something. But I think we’d better talk about it away from little ears, hm?”

“Don’t leave me out of this! I’m just as angry at him as Riyo! I deserve to know what’s going on, too, don’t I?” Rudo fumed, stomping a foot. What a child. Zanka rolled his eyes.

Enjin placated him, “Zanka’ll letcha’ know in a little while. He’s entitled to his own secrets. Just wait here while I talk with him, alright, kid?”

Rudo quieted down at that, somewhat reassured. Zanka guessed he was thinking about what he shared with him about his fake eating habits. That kid cared way too much about people he barely knew.

“Fine, scuzzball,” Rudo said, still a little angry.

Zanka flicked him in the forehead, “That’s my word, turd-for-brains. Yer makin’ it sound stupid comin’ outta yer mouth.”

Rudo kicked at the back of his leg as he ran off, making Zanka stumble when he began walking away after Enjin. “I am going to throttle him one day, Enjin. I swear.”

Enjin laughed, the sound echoing in the silent hallway. “He’s just a twerp. No manners. But he cares about you all the same. You’re his mentor, y’know? He looks up to you.”

Zanka hummed. What a strange idea.

The pair peeled off from the main hall into an empty room. It was bare save for a few storage crates and stacked up chairs. Enjin flicked on the light and turned around to face him. Here comes the serious talk.

“So?”

Zanka stayed silent.

Enjin sighed and ran a hand across the back of his neck. “This isn’t like you, Zanka. I get it you want some freedom, but you can’t just bail like that. And it’s not just that you’ve got responsibilities here. Honestly, I couldn’t care less if you killed trash beasts or got your work done or what. What were Riyo and I supposed to think? Imagine what we thought when Tomme told us she heard a crash and then found you gone from your room with glass all over the floor. Riyo had a full-blown panic attack! I hadn’t seen her that stressed out since, well, since the last time you disappeared like that.”

The last time. It was around two years ago now since the incident. Zanka hadn’t been in the best place…mentally when he joined the Cleaners.

Riyo had found him out in the middle of a Nowhere’s Land after he had been missing for a few days.

He’d grown sick of his life. Every day dragged on longer than the next, even if his waking hours were dwarfed by the time he spent asleep. When he was awake, he’d focus all of his attention on training. Nothing else mattered to him. Friends weren’t yet a concept, despite Riyo’s continued attempts to get him to open up to her.

Zanka barely ate leading up to the days he’d decided to cut his life short. The moral considerations of being a burden to the team that supported him too strong to bear. He felt more monstrous in those days than he had his entire life. Surrounded by people he begrudgingly cared about, and knowing that they could have easily ended up as his next meal. That he lived on the lifeblood of the people he was supposed to protect. His very existence a drain on society. What was the point of a thing like him continuing to live? He wasn’t as strong as his family. He couldn’t justify his diet by protecting the ground. Their blood went nowhere. It powered his family to extreme lengths, but was simply wasted on him.

And so he’d disappeared himself. Starved to the brink of collapse and threw himself into a known trash-beast-infested zone with the intent of never making it out alive. Too afraid to finish the job himself, he thought the trash beasts would take care of it for him. Even in death, a hassle to others. The starvation dizzied him to the point where he couldn’t really see or walk straight, and right before he fell unconscious, he saw several shapes approaching him. Metallic groans, yips, and whines still echoed in his ears some days.

He was never supposed to wake up after that. And yet, the next thing he knew, he was being dragged along behind Riyo, who was silently crying as she carried them both away. Scrapes and bruises littered her body from where she had likely driven off the beasts. She was younger back then, too, of course, and the image they made was kind of funny. This small girl carrying his much larger form. But she was determined.

Zanka couldn’t do much besides let her carry his ragdoll body. Couldn’t fight back or help her move him. Eventually, they made camp, and Zanka was able to snag and drain a rat when her back was turned. Riyo thought he had coughed up blood, so she came over and started angrily fussing over him again. But when she got close, Zanka grabbed her and wrapped her in a weak hug.

He had been so exhausted and so overwhelmed with her relentless desire to save him that he cried. Zanka wasn’t sure when the last time he’d cried before that had been. It wasn’t at the well. Then, he was simply empty.

Zanka sobbed into her shoulder, which was bare, and so his snot and tears were smeared across her skin. She just patted his hair, her own quiet tears dripping onto his head, understanding. Occasionally, she’d mutter reassurances to him, but Zanka didn’t catch any of them. He just babbled random nonsense until his tears ran dry and the hiccupping stopped. The rat had given him the strength to manage on his own two feet the rest of the way back.

Corvus had doubled the order for the supply the next week and given him all of the reserves. He remembered feeling bad for Eisha when she did the inventory and saw her stock depleted.

They were just two kids back then. Though he supposed they still were.

“I know. I know—I’m sorry,” Zanka expressed, “I wasn’t supposed to be gone that long.”

“You know that’s not the point, Zanka. If anyone in here goes anywhere, at least Semiu should know that you left. She was pretty freaked out herself. I mean, that’s her whole job. No one could contact you, either.” Enjin reprimanded.

“I’m sorry,” Zanka repeated dumbly. Eyes cast down in shame.

“Ahh, you’re makin’ me sound so old here. Can you at least tell me who you were with? What you were doin’?” Enjin groaned.

Zanka winced, “I can’t” How was he supposed to say, Don’t worry, I was just with Jabber! You know, that insanely deranged Raider that nearly killed Gris, Rudo, and me? But it’s okay! He’s also like the only one who knows about my biggest secret that even you don’t know! But it’s totally safe with him! For sure!

“Why not?” Enjin pressed, hands on his hips. Now he really looked old. Zanka felt worse for probably shortening years off Enjin’s life with how much he stressed him out all the time.

Zanka said, “I just…can’t.” Secrecy was tearing him up inside. He hated to lie to Enjin. Zanka already had to hide his real identity from him, adding any more secrets to the pile just worsened the ache.

“Were you doing something illegal?”

“I don’t think so? Well, maybe?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, what I did wasn’t.” Zanka decided on.

Enjin questioned, “Who the hell are you hangin’ around, Zanka? A gangster? Mafia or somethin’?”

Not quite. Try Raider instead. “Not that, no. But they’re not…like us. I can’t tell you who. They don’t really like Cleaners.” That description would have to suffice.

Sighing, Enjin let it go, “I get it. I won’t press you anymore. Just don’t disappear on us next time, okay? Your time and your privacy are your own, but we care about you. I think we deserve to know when you leave. Maybe not where, or who you’re with, but just that you’re leavin’ with the intention of coming back. Leave a note or somethin’. That’s all I ask.”

He really worried them, didn’t he? “Okay,” Zanka affirmed.

“Good!” Enjin clapped his hands. “Glad that’s over with! I hate playin’ the grouchy old man role. But say la vay, or whatever, right? C’mon, let’s get some food in you. Are you hungry?”

Zanka struggled hard to keep his grimace inside. “I think I just wanna go to bed, if that’s alright?”

Enjin shrugged, “Whatever you want, Zan-Zan. Just glad you’re back. I should prolly go and let Semiu know to call everyone back, though, huh? See you later!”

And then the interaction was over—Zanka free once more.

He’d need to apologise to Riyo, and probably Rudo too—and whoever was unfortunate enough to be chosen to go on a wild goose chase for him—but first he had to get something to drink. He was starving.

Damnit. He should’ve taken Jabber up on his offer.

—

Water dripped from the ceiling of Zodyl’s room. A T.V. buzzed in front of him, where he was sitting on a foldable metal chair. The thing wasn’t even playing anything besides static, but the man was enthralled by it. He was softly muttering to himself, too. Cthoni liked the atmosphere, though. It was calming and dark. A cockroach crawled over her foot.

“Boss?” she called out.

A deep breath in, and another out. “Yes, Cthoni?” He always spoke so directly. Never jumbled or overused his words. Clear and concise. It was the best way to be, Cthoni mused.

Cthoni spoke, “I thought you should be aware of one of the Raiders’ activities lately.”

“Why should their actions concern me? You all have your freedom.”

“Yes, but it involves the Cleaners.”

At that, Zodyl tilted his head, just slightly. Enough to make it known that she had his attention.

“Explain.”

“I overheard a call, recently. Between one of ours and one of theirs. They spoke like they had had an established line of communication for quite some time. As though they were close. And later, I followed them back to the Raiders’ apartment, where they both disappeared inside for the entire night.”

Zodyl was quiet for a spell, considering her words. Digesting the new information. “This is good. Do you know what the Raiders’ intention with the Cleaner is?”

“Not yet, Boss. But I don’t believe they’d do anything to directly harm your mission. I’d be more inclined to think their actions have been taken due to curiosity and fascination, rather than a true connection. They’re not the type to make friends.”

“And who are they?” Zodyl inquired softly.

“Jabber Wonger, Boss,” Cthoni informed.

Zodyl twitched. “He’s capable of playing nice? I wasn’t aware he had such a skillset. I will be sure to make use of it in the future.”

“Of course,” Cthoni responded smoothly. She was glad to be an asset to him.

She turned around to leave, mission report completed, when Zodyl called after her. “Keep me informed of their…meetings. And thank you, Cthoni. Your devotion is appreciated. That’s all.”

“Mn.”

Without thinking about much else, Cthoni returned to her room calmly and went to bed.