Chapter Text
Jabber wanted to chase that feeling again.
The violent throbbing of his heart against the confinement of his very own rib cage. The snap of the other man's jinki against the back of his neck. The numbing pain spreading his nerves.
Jabber wants to see that man again.
He knew if he saw Zanka once more, he wouldn't be able to contain himself anymore. The pleasuring shiver that always run down his spine whenever he happens to make eye contact with those sharp aquatic eyes. Those trembling eyes that either shook in fear or rage, constantly directed at him and displaying all resentment towards him.
Those very eyes that glowed in the bloody night staring at him as though dissecting his very existence, pulling him apart from limb by limb.
It didn't scare Jabber Wonger one bit, rather, it amused him, intrigued him, and to put it in a better word, captivated him.
He felt seen, known and understood.
Despite the direct confession from Zanka, telling him how disgusting he was or how much the other wished he was dead, vowing that he'd kill him by his own hands—Jabber knows that won't happen.
For Zanka was merely an average Joe, or perhaps below that. He was a goody two shoes and kept by his morals from what he has seen, but he knows. Jabber can see it.
Underneath all those well-layered—nearly perfected, walls of back opaque that can't be seen with the naked eye, he sees all the pent up oppression.
Zanka feared for his life here and there since their first exchange. Always over-analyzing the shadows and keep his senses sharp. No matter how vigorous the Hell Guard's training was back at home, no matter how refined his hearing and smelling is that allowed him to sense incoming enemies from miles away, he will forever be hiding in fear from the man with dreadlocks.
—
"I left them."
Zanka's expression twisted in confusion as his calloused fingers twisted tensely around Lovely Assistaff.
"Them?"
"The raiders, of course, who else?"
Jabber flicked his wrist obliviously, his hair swaying mockingly as though he meant no harm when the heavy prowess of poison runs through his blood, ready to splatter all over the room and coat the man bestowed in front of him. The thought of painting the room red doesn't so bad to be honest, but his masochistic thoughts were severed with a dumbfounded blurt.
"What—why?"
Zanka was confused and he would be lying if he didn't breathed out a sigh of relief, but an even heavier burden hover above him at the possibility that this man, Jabber Wonger, will no longer be restrained to the orders of evil but completely free to do what he wants.
Why?
Because this man was no ordinary man. His thoughts and intentions excels his image of impression. He is unpredictable and words of poison rolls off his tongue like a waterfall, ever so running his mouth. His reckless behavior deceives you into thinking he's just a regular thug when he is but a man that carries unsurpassable power. And with such power, in the hands of a man that defines the devil himself, the world can only be reckoned with what's to come.
"Isn't it obvious, my dearest Zan-zan?"
Jabber giggled behind the back of his hand. Eyes glinting that sinister, yet familiar magenta glow. The edge of his eyes seemed sharpened and it felt like it was cutting at Zanka's soul.
Zanka felt bare and vulnerable.
Lovely Assistaff took on her true form and Mankira only followed after. Blue and purple glows blended in the dim light.
Despite the tragedy that was about to unfold itself, it was a sight that many would to sneak a peek at.
Zanka was promising hostility to Jabber, getting into a fighting stance. Usually by now, it would be predictable that Jabber will also follow after him once more, but like he said, unpredictable was Jabber's middle name.
He just stood there, the corners of his mouth lifting up his cheeks that squashed his eyes into semi-circles, showing off his surprisingly shiny white teeth.
"Don't you want to know? I mean, you should know right?"
"No, I don't want to know. Nothing ever makes sense whenever I'm around you either way, hence there's no point knowing."
Zanka snapped back sharply. He wanted to get this done and over with, already missing his bed after a long day of cleaning, evacuating and annexing trash beasts. He was lost in his thoughts for no more than five seconds but once he looked up, Jabber was already in front of him.
Zanka holding his jinki steadily in both hands with knees bent slightly in wards, his default fighting stance, but Jabber was in front of him, knees evidently bent and his upper body bending forward to meet Zanka's eye level. It gave Zanka the millisecond chance to observe the physical differences between them. Jabber was merely a few inches taller than him but he can't help but feel dominated.
It gnawed a deep hatred of disgust and inferiority at Zanka's already insecure soul. He grit his teeth and snapped his jinki awfully accurate at Jabber's jaw but it was only met with a deflect. Jabber zoomed out of the way and followed the flow, smoothly gliding his jinki downwards to the ground by ducking beneath the speeding polearm.
'Shit!'
Was all Zanka could scream in his mind when he realized how opened he was with Janka beneath him, whilst his arm were trying to maneuver his polearm to hit his enemy and his legs trying to steady himself, leaving his torso completely defenseless.
"How predictable."
Was all Jabber said before he lunged at Zanka, hands clasping down onto the lower part of Zanka's waist and slamming him down. Air was forced out of his lungs when his back met with the dirty floor, Lovely Assistaff falling out of weakening grip as he vision started collecting pulsing white dots.
"Urgh..."
Zanka, even though nearing his demise, still pushed through, greedily fighting for his survival as he tried to push himself up. Of course, the next thing Jabber would do was to slam him down, eager to knock him out unconscious.
Mankira's claws came down at him and Zanka's fast reflexes managed him out of danger, fishing out a small sound of amusement.
Teeth grinding against metal as Zanka bite down on Mankira. Jabber didn't stop grinding Mankira down on him, the vibrating struggle reverberated between Zanka's mouth and the active threat of Jabber's hand. Jabber could only whined at how amazing Zanka was.
The man he very desired, below him and under his mercy. Sure, Jabber would much prefer being on the receiving end but this? This was different, he didn't mind this one bit, in fact, he craved for it more.
Jabber didn't get it.
He hated weak people, and Zanka was so obviously one of the many weak foes he has faced off so why? Why does he keep crawling back for Zanka's reciprocating exchange of punches and kicks? Is it it because he was the only one that was willing to entertain to him? Just what is it?
Jabber abruptly halted in his thoughts when he felt a whirl of wind and before he knew it, Lovely Assistaff spun at an impressive speed and strength, successfully whip lashing Jabber in the sides and knocking him off Zanka.
The environment start duplicating itself and overlapping as his vision clouds in a sign of blacking out. Jabber could only laugh in haughtiness, slapping the floor in a poor attempt to contain his laughter. He heard footsteps growing louder as Zanka crept closer to him.
The tip of Zanka's jinki tilted to his face as Zanka questioned him.
"If I said I don't know why, and asked you why, would you finally leave me alone?"
Jabber didn't answer him and just turned his head away from him, earning himself an annoyed tsk from the other.
"Hmm, depends, what or how you'll deal with my answer. So, first..."
Jabber stabbed himself with Mankira, dosing himself with drugs, poison and things that should not be mixed with his blood, but it was impulsive and hasty move that he uses against strong opponents. In the front of his mind, Jabber knew Zanka was 'weak', he has repeatedly told himself that to tear out images and thoughts of Zanka swirling around his head. But, in the back of his mind, Zanka was strong. No, he is strong. It just so happens he is fighting Jabber Wonger, himself.
Coming back to reality, this sacrificial move elicited a hitch of breath from Zanka, causing him to back up and get ready to retreat despite the humiliation he will face afterwards or perhaps the death door if he doesn't. Zanka steadily leap forward, still wanting to give it a shot, a chance that he is strong and to prove it to Jabber.
Jabber's eyes roll to the back of his head and from then on, he was lost in his own world. The same word repeat in his head, it was more of a name—Zanka, Zanka, Zanka, Zanka, Zanka, Zanka, Zanka, Zanka—that repeatedly chanted.
Punch, deflect, punch back, deflected back, kick and kick, punch and punch. Exchange of blows that mean harm continued on for the next hour and it was slowly pulling on an evident strain on Zanka's stamina, who was also not having a booster like Jabber who's running high on poison.
And then it concluded, Zanka finally landed the final hit, knocking Jabber completely out and emerged victorious. Jabber could've just stabbed himself once more and continue the fight, and perhaps change the ending of their fight but right now, he just wanted to bask in other's joy.
Jabber hates not knowing what kind of feeling he is having right now, he didn't feel sexually pent up or eager to fight again, he also knew it wasn't because he was lazy or not in the mood, he just couldn't help but admire Zanka's cheerfulness.
And so, Jabber played dumb and pretended to faint. Footsteps were heard once more, but this time, it grew softer and smaller before nothing else was heard other than the hagged breaths and pants from the aftermath of the fight.
But truly, this time, he had nowhere, or no one to go back to. When he said he left the raiders, he meant it. Jabber got back on his feet after a moment of recovery and finalized his priority at the moment, whereas he has to find a place to stay at for a while to rest.
So, why did he leave the raiders?
The answer was just in front of him.
The answer is constantly walking amongst the Cleaners.
The answer is snarky, dense and bites.
The answer was mesmerizing and captivating.
The answer was also the answer to Jabber's feelings.
The answer was Zanka.
The answer was Zanka Nijiku.
Jabber sighed and stumbled forward towards the exit of the building.
"I left the Raiders for you, Zanka."
.