Chapter Text
Zanka wasn't worth it anymore. Not that he wasn't strong, he was. Zanka might've been one of the strongest people Jabber has ever met. Physically, of course, but also mentally. So, no, he wasn't disappointed in his skills. He was disappointed in Zanka himself. The Cleaner has been making up rules (following them strictly too, as Jabber came to know), holding himself back in fear of breaking them, his worries and insecurities consuming him.
Jabber couldn't relate. After their first fight, Jabber thought he had Zanka figured out. It was almost funny, how easily you could read the staff wielders emotions written on his face. But not really, not when he was so clearly holding himself back all the time. Not when Jabber could almost *taste* it, not when he could *see* it just waiting to be clawed out. All bunched up under the surface.
It took him awhile to understand what Zanka's problem was, why he acted like that. In the end, he decided it was The Cleaners, The Hell Guard, hell, societies eyes in general that kept Zanka on a leash. That's why when the boss told them about the trash beast and what they were going to do, he was so excited to fight Zanka (after he'd begged to). They could be alone, Zanka could finally let loose, it would be perfect. He knew Zanka didn't think of him too highly, and so he shouldn't be worried with how the raider perceives him.
Especially not when Jabber eggs him on, not when he lights him up, fans the flame, and encourages him to fight harder. It worked, he thought, or hoped, until he realized it was *just* beneath the surface. He wouldn't let Jabber any deeper, not to the depths, not to his true desires. He couldn't understand what the problem was. What Zanka's problem was.
In the beginning, when C'thoni dropped him off, Zanka locked onto him immediately. His body was focused on Jabber but his mind was elsewhere. He could get Zanka to focus on him for about two seconds, when he got angry enough, and then it would slip away, like nothing happened. Jabber was stumped, there's not many options when someone is that repressed, that filled with shame. He wasn't used to feeling out of control, that out of the game. It was exciting but it was also extremely, overwhelmingly, frustrating. Maybe it was impossible. Maybe Zanka was permanently stuck, incapable of letting go.
Then he saw and *felt* the staff wielder toss an acid pit at him like it was nothing. It excited him, filled him with hope. Too much hope, maybe.
He put all his money on one idea in his excitement. Maybe, He thought, if he could put Zanka in a life-or-death situation he could finally just revert to instinct. It wouldn't be as good, no emotion put into it and all, but it would've been satisfying regardless. That was naive. Zanka was stubborn. More stubborn than anyone he's ever met. He's shown that he could override Mankira's poisons on pure will power, he could suppress his natural instincts, and he could dull down his strength, his feelings, his thoughts. Jabber could still see it, though, he could feel it, and he was giving him more than a glimpse before Zanka yanked it away again.
He knew, as soon as Mankira was revealed, that the fight was over. Not when Jabber stuck him with it, not when Zanka was tweaking on the floor, but when Zanka started his bullshit monologue about being basic, not holding back, being honest. It was infuriating. It was humbling in a way Jabber haven't felt in a long time. Everything came relatively easy to Jabber. Obviously he had to work for what he has now, it wasn't that there was no effort, there just wasn't much need for it.
In the earlier days, it was braggable. Finding solutions to complex problems quickly under pressure, adapting to any situation thrown at him, mastering different hobbies after a brief description, or even just watching someone else do it, figuring out people, what made them tick, taking them apart, putting them together again, it was all so easy. So boring. The beginnings, at least, were always fun. The learning aspect, hitting that wall (which did happen sometimes, but wouldn't last long), figuring it out, picking things apart. But it was short lived, and then he'd have to find something else again.
Poisons were always captivating to him. There were no end to how much you could learn, there were no straight answers. Sure, there were average reactions, but due to the nature of The Ground there was not many officially documented poisons. There will always be new reactions, new subjects, new feelings.
Poisons were all consuming, he poured of his attention into it. After a while, he found another use for them, and found his love of fighting. That's around the time Mankira formed and he found his new obsession. Her claws were his favorite thing. She was perfect for him, they matched each other beautifully. It didn't take him long to discover her true form either. It was freeing and yet confining at the same time. The fights he got into ended as soon as they began, it was boring. It wasn't fun anymore. So he stifled their abilities in order to have fun again.
By the time he was 17, he was recruited by the raiders. It was a big event, getting beat for the first time. It opened new horizons, broadened his world. He had something to hope for, something to look forward to. If someone could handle him, if he could find something else to wrap his mind around, he wouldn't be so painstakingly bored. So he joined the raiders, and did everything Zodyl asked of him (as long as it was engaging). He was generally rewarded for what he did, whether it be a fight, a new poison, a plant, whatever he wanted. When he failed though, nothing really happened, he was just left to his own devices for a week or two. It isn't that bad, shouldn't be a big deal, but it felt like torture to him. He had no one to go to, no one to fight, nothing to do, it was just him and Mankira. It was suffocating. So, he put everything he had into not failing, into being dependable.
When he first met the cleaner, he thought it was curious that his group left him behind, but he wanted to see it through, so he did. Jabber was never wrong, whether it was a conscious thought, or just a feeling, and he wanted to see where this one would lead. It didn't hurt that the staff wielder was eye candy. The way he talked was nice, too, his voice was smooth; resounding in Jabber's ears, and what he was saying just made it all the more exciting for Jabber to see him fight.
The people he recruited for this little mission were explaining their instruments, which was a tad boring, considering he already heard it, but he fought through the boredom, waiting for the object of his fascination to introduce his own. Although, to his disappointment, it never happened, as it seems that the cleaner apparently likes to keep to himself. She was beautiful though, Jabber learned, when she was activated. He swung her like it was nothing, and even when the swings hit, he didn't pause, didn't falter. It was hard to imagine how heavy the staff truly was. She seemed taller than the boy, and just a bit taller than Jabber. She was made of iron, which was interesting considering she used to be made up of simple wood. It was obvious he had some sort of previous training, and Jabber wanted to know what it was, who he was, what he knows.
As soon as she was truly activated, her wielder was socked in the jaw, and he could visibly see the gears turning in his head.
The fight eventually came to a slow, but Jabber couldn't figure out why, until the other boy started speaking, something about someone watching him. Jabber couldn't tell if he was more scared or excited. He hoped the cleaner was talking about him, but it was unlikely. If it was between him, and the guy hiding in the mud, it was probably the other guy. So, he waited for an explanation. It was hard to sit still, but Jabber could control himself for now. The explanation he got only made him more excited, the guy had something. The way he talked about fighting, how fast he figured them out, it was all too good. He was perfect. He knew then that they were the same, and he was excited for their fight to done so he could move onto jabber. It wouldn't take much for Jabber to win against him, he was sure, but it would be fun nonetheless, and he told him as such once he got closer.
Of course, he was right about the fight too. He didn't want to kill him, so he didn't, just struck him with Mankira and left him to fend for himself. He wouldn't be a problem for now, and he could always come back for more later, but because he stopped to watch the fight, he was late and the Sphereite could be long gone. It didn't take long for him to move on, once he met the Sphereite.
The kid activated his instrument shortly after Jabber had stabbed the supporter. The Spherite's instrument turned out to be unlike anything he's ever seen before. He was excited, not just for the fight, but to wrap his head around it and understand it. It didn't take long for him to figure this out either though, he did some experiments, had his fun, procrastinated a little bit, and when he was beat up enough he had it. That's all he really needed, and he trusted himself and Mankira enough to fight even while unconscious. When he finally came to, it wasn't to his victory or whatever, it was to a bright, rainbow light coming from above, the boy from earliers' face coming down to meet him, his staff and his features illuminated by the light coming off his body, his eyes, a shining blue, full of rage.
Maybe that's when he realized he was worth more than just a couple fights. When he realized he needed to remember the name he's just learned. Zanka. Zaaankaaa. He wanted to fight him now, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again. But for now, the fight was over, and he had a job to do. Although, as dedicated as he was, the cleaner has asked a question about 'kira, and he couldn't just ignore a question like that coming from his new friend. He took the question as an excuse to talk to him, but also as an excuse to yap about his vital instrument for a moment. It was not the best thing to do considering Zanka's the enemy at the moment, but he is paralyzed on the ground right now so there's not much he could do with the information anyways. He talks about her for a minute, answers another question, and just as he's about to get up, he decides to tell Zanka just how fun he was.
He was expecting a glare, or maybe a witty remark. But instead, Zanka surprised him yet again. He went quiet, like he was fighting something back, he kept staring at Jabber, looking for something. Jabber wasn't sure what he was looking for, or what the change was. He got uncomfortable after a minute of staring, so he just decided to stab him and leave.
The trash beast was different. It had been so long since he's last seen the Cleaner, and even so, he hasn't gone a single day without him being on his mind. Trying to figure him out, debunk him, see what makes him tick, what makes him so interesting. He asks about him, sometimes he sees him on missions, but most of the time he just hears things from strangers when he goes out. Unfortunately, he never interacts with him, as he's not allowed to. He finds out quite a bit, but all that does is make the questions more complicated, more diverse. It gets him riled up, so riled infact, he begs Zodyl himself to allow him to fight Zanka, just one more time. But he already knew he wouldn't be able to kill him.
"Maybe I should've picked one of the other cleaners" is what he said, but it wasn't true. None of the other cleaners would be even nearly as stimulating as Zanka. Jabber couldn't picture a better person to partner with. Zanka matched him in every way. He matched his strength, he matched his restraint, he matched his love and thirst for the fight and the gratification that came with it, he matched his disappointment in the weak, he matched his drive to learn, to change. It was almost as if they were the same person. Zanka's brain looked a bit different, but they had the same hopes; the same desires. They both wanted to have fun, to be challenged, to be accepted, to be free.
Zanka was perfect for him. He was perfect in general, he just needed a little time. He knew Zanka felt similarly by the way he checked on him after the acid was dumped on him, how Zanka looked at him in the gaps between their hits, the way he bit Mankira (he can still feel the shiver down his spine at the memory), when he broke his ribs, then when he punched those same ribs right after, and in a more subconscious way, when Zanka was on the ground, when he was hallucinating. It felt great to see Zanka on the ground, bleeding from Mankiras touch, he stood there for a moment just watched it gush out, but then he realized he doesn't actually want Zanka to die right now, or even pass out. He wants to prove that he was right.
Maybe that's why he gave Zanka his relaxant/hallucinogen. he wanted Zanka to think freely, he knew that it would help him get stronger. Instead, it ended up being a bit too strong and the Cleaner ended up tweaking on the floor. It was probably due to Mankira's current form, the dose being too strong and such. While waiting to see if he would get up, he wasted some time. He danced, he made a song, he talked to Zanka a bit. The conversation went from being a little too real to empty real fast, but he didn't care. He didn't need the conversation the hold any real value, he didn't think Zanka could hear him anyway.
When he started laughing, it was a bit confusing, but it was also nice to listen to. Zanka has a nice voice. Everything is kind of nice about him if Jabber thinks about it, which he does. He's got a pretty face, he's real strong, he's got soft hair, a strong instrument, and a nice laugh. It's unfair really. But before Jabber could get jealous about it, he lays next to the cleaner on the floor. He gets in on the fun, staring at Zanka the whole time, his ribs crackling under each breath. It felt great, but eventually he had to at least try and take him to the boss.
That didn't mean he wasn't loud about it, however, and that he didn't stay out in the open. Maybe the cleaners would find them again. Just like their first meet up. What he didn't expect was it to be so immediate and he definitely didn't expect to be shot. He would've tried to avoid that part if he had the chance, as there's no real fun part about being shot, there's nothing personable about it, nothing really planned out even. He didn't have the chance to be upset, though, as he watched Zanka be pulled away. Distantly in the back of his mind, he felt he missed him. It made him giggle to himself on the ground. And he was alone again.
He continued to be alone, too, for many, many, weeks. All he could think about was Zanka. He hasn't been able to let loose in so long, the only other person able to handle him being Zodyl, and that always ends the same way, it isn't as fun anymore. Zodyl always keeps to the same routine, never switches it up, never talks to him. Zanka talks to him. He talks him through it, switches it up, surprises him. He may not be totally honest with his feelings but his face gives it away.
Zanka gets him, even if he can't admit it right now. It's amazing but in the same sense it's scary. Jabber can't figure him out. He's tried everything he could think of and nothing worked. He hasn't seen or heard from or even about Zanka the entirety of the time they've been apart. He was hoping he'd be able to see him at least when he ran into the cleaners (and Fu? who apparently ditched them?) on their way to meet the information broker. But no, the staff wielder was still recovering or maybe just avoiding him and that made Jabber antsy. He needed to see him again. He needed Zanka. He needed answers. He needed something, anything, Zanka would give him.
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Jabber wasn't supposed to be at the doll fest. None of the Raiders were. They were warned beforehand about some crazy reporter who wanted to take over the city or something. Or at least that's what Momoa said. But he still wanted to see it, and he trusted he could handle himself, so he went anyway. Nothing super crazy so far, he didn't break too many rules, just took off his choker, went to the festival, maybe picked up a few things, and that was it. He was wearing something akin to a fur suit so no one would recognize him, it was fun, he felt sneaky. However, the best part of the night was seeing a familiar set of earrings, blue tassels to be exact. And he followed them, followed them all the way to the stage. Watched them from afar.
There was a whole bunch of people surrounding him, thousands even. There were performers too, although most were boring, some were actually pretty cool. Not long after the performances started though, things started getting intense. The reporter he heard about, was shutting down the festival. People's chokers were used against them, and they couldn't control themselves anymore.
Jabber didn't do anything about it though, of course, just sat in the back and watched it happen. The longer he watched, the better it got. Zanka was fighting this baseball chick, she said something about hitting his balls or whatever, Jabber wasn't really listening to her, he was more focused on what Zanka was saying, how he was moving. He missed his voice, his face, his staff. What was her name again? he couldn't remember. He was completely locked onto what Zanka was saying.
He mentioned learning to dodge bullets. That his sister was the one who had taught him (was that the girl who shot him?). Honestly, he believed him, too. It was impressive, watching him dodge everything that came his way. He was doing so well, it was obvious how much he improved since their last fight. Jabber wondered if that sudden motivation could have stemmed from their fight. If Zanka was training to beat him into the ground. The thought sends shivers throughout his body.
Then as time progressed, Jabber started to wonder if he was just high on something. Mymo, after getting hi vital instrument broken, started whispering to himself on the ground and all of a sudden started growing and transforming into an unidentifiable monster. Jabber froze. his hands twitched, he wanted to jump in so badly. Jabbers impulse control was awful. Almost nonexistent. But he knew he would lose everything if he jumped in right now, he's smart enough to know that. He wasn't meant to be here, Zodyl wouldn't let him come back if he fought with the cleaners. Which would be fine now that he met Zanka, but the Hell Guard was here. He knew he could take them too, but there was a slight fear he couldn't and he knew what would happen to Mankira if he got caught.
So he stayed in his spot behind the benches. And he watched as Mymo bypassed one of Hell Guards dogs like he was nothing and head straight for Zanka. Although, to the Cleaners credit, he kept a much cooler head about it than Jabber. Zanka lifted his stick, probably to strike him, but then, just as it was about to collide, Mymo reaches out and pokes a hole through Zanka's middle. It should've been fatal immediately, it looked fatal. But Zanka only took it as an opportunity, taking the opening and returning the favor, carving a deep scar into the demon's face, giving him what looks to be a mouth.
Zanka's blood splattered across the cement, the force and speed of which his body hit the floor knocked his staff out of his hand, deactivating it, landing further away from Zanka than he knew he would be comfortable with. Jabber remembered her name now, he doesn't know how he forgot, but it will never happen again. It fit her perfectly, she was lovely, and she was special. And she was Zanka's. And now she's on the floor while her meister is on the ground, coated and covered in his own blood.
Jabber felt too many real emotions. Emotions he thought he was incapable of. His hand immediately reached up the clutch his chest, feeling as though broken glass has replaced his heart. He didn't know what to do. He really couldn't DO anything, he just had to sit there, to wait, to watch. He watches the Hell Guard soldier from earlier approach his body. Watched his mouth move, just standing there. It angered him, as he watched Zanka bleed out over the concrete, the man doing nothing. However it didn't make him nearly as mad as when the man picks Zanka up, heaves him over his shoulder, and walks to an unknown place, leaving the vital instrument behind. He watched as Zanka closed his eyes.
His nails, slowly shifting into his Mankira, dug deep into his skin and it didn't feel good this time. Normally he's so jazzed up from adrenaline that pain is his outlet, he searches for it, he craves it. He hoped it would clear his mind, stabilize his body. The world was crashing in on him, and he could feel everything so intensely his skin hurt. He couldn't recall the rest of the fight if he tried and stayed at the stage long after everyone left. When he finally snapped back he knew that he had to find Zanka, if he was alive. He needed to return Assistaff. And he needed to find that man.