Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Enjin really sucked at driving. It was an unfortunate fact of the world that Zanka had simply gotten used to and just learned to deal with, as had every other member of the team, with the notable exception of their newest member. With every pitch and sharp turn Rudo was jostled around from his spot in the middle seat, more than once accidentally —at least it had better be accidentally— shoving his absurdly sharp elbows into Zanka's side, and it was really starting to piss him off.

They'd been driving for a while now, and the landscape around them had mellowed out into what looked like rolling hills. It would almost be picturesque if they weren't made entirely of garbage. Though Zanka imagined for Rudo that probably just made them even better.

Semiu had informed them about multiple reports of burrowing trash beasts in an area outside a small town, and had sent team Akuta, along with two supporters, to investigate and dispose of them. A routine mission, and sending six of them was probably overkill, but with the area being more remote, and the trash beasts' behavior being slightly abnormal, they'd decided it was better to be safe than sorry. Especially since there had been a notable uptick in false reports set as traps by raiders (a certain sharp smile and clawed hand came to mind and Zanka tried to banish the thought as soon as it appeared, hating the feeling that seemed to consume him from the inside out whenever he thought too hard about the raider. A feeling he refused to look into further because obviously it was just hatred. Obviously). 

He looked away from the window and over at Enjin, who, apart from driving like staying alive was going out of style, seemed to be having a grand old time singing off-key to the radio in between light conversation with Gris, fully turning to the side to do so every time. Zanka owed Enjin his life, and revered him as both a fighter and mentor, but he'd be lying if he said Enjin's general attitude toward handling a massive speeding hunk of metal that could kill them all with a single wrong move didn't leave something to be desired. If Enjin were anyone else, his actions would have only added to Zanka's irritation. And even as it was, they certainly didn't help either. 

A particularly large bump threw an unprepared Rudo up in the air where his skull clocked painfully against Zankas chin, nearly making him bite his own tongue off. Ugh, was the kid's head made of metal or what!?

"Oh for fucks- would ya stop that!" He snapped.

"HUH?! It's not my fault that turdface drives like a maniac, take it up with him!"

"And yet yer the only one flying around the damn car!"

He could see Rudo getting geared up to yell some more and mentally prepared himself for the headache it would no doubt cause him, before a flash of red hair caught his peripheral vision and Riyo, who had been lounging across the backseat, leaned over and threaded her fingers through Rudo's hair as she yawned.

The sharp contrast seemingly caused Rudo to bluescreen as he froze mid gesture and just blinked, mouth slightly agape like a fish, anger paused. The sight almost made Zanka snort, but he was still annoyed, so he just rolled his eyes and went back to looking out the window. Enjin however, had no such reservations and barked out a loud laugh at the sight, looking at them through the rearview mirror. Zanka really wished he'd keep his eyes on the road. To Rudo's left, Follo gave a small sigh of relief at the visible diversion of an argument, and although Zanka couldn't see Gris from where he was sitting he could imagine the soft smile on his face, probably looking back at him and Rudo. The kid really wasn't used to casual affection, and Riyo especially playing with his hair seemed to be a weak point of his.

"Your hair's getting pretty long y'know, I think you're probably due for a trim soon." remarked Riyo as she mimed cutting it with two fingers. Rudo sputtered, and pulled his head away before bringing his gloved hands up to grab a lock, looking at it contemplatively.

"I guess.." he muttered, and Riyo smiled.

"If it gets too much longer it'll start getting in your eyes when you fight, and trust me that's no good. I'll cut it for you when we get back!" She chirped with a thumbs up.

Zanka exhaled a small laugh through his nose, knowing how much Riyo loved cutting hair, and how Rudo's hair specifically, with its snow white roots and permanently blackened tips, seemed to fascinate her.

"How benevolent of ya." He hummed with a slight grin, an action Riyo returned easily.

"Hey, I'm just looking out for my team, what can I say?" She gave him a look that landed somewhere between appraising and mischievous. "Y'know, you're probably in need of a trim too Zanka, I know you've got that whole emo thing going on but at a certain point it's gonna impair your vision." She said with a wink.

Enjins laughter, which had just died down, started up again as a wheeze. Zanka could feel a vein in his forehead starting to make itself known but ultimately decided not to rise to the bait (an active choice on his part, and absolutely not because he couldn't think of a retort that didn't sound childish).

Luckily, he was saved by them apparently arriving at their destination –despite the surrounding area looking the same as it had for the last 10 minutes of driving since they passed the town, but sure– and the car slowed down before finally, blissfully, creeping to a full stop. Enjins cheerful "We're here!" causing multiple eyerolls and a quiet "Thank goodness.." from Follo. They all strapped on their half-masks before loading out of the car, taking the chance to stretch and look around.

...Yep, trash. As far as the eye could see. And notably, no trash beasts in sight, but if they were the kind that lived underground Zanka guessed it made sense, though the knowledge didn't do much to cure his slight sense of unease. He wasn't a fan of trash beasts by any means but he'd happily prefer them to a raider ambush any day of the week. 

Metal on metal crashing, sparking. A feral, bloody grin and a desperately violent look he knew was mirrored in his own eyes-

He shook his head, banishing the thoughts. He needed to focus on the mission. Riyo caught his eye and raised a single eyebrow, a silent "you good?" passing between them. He took a breath and gave her a nod in response, and her gaze lingered on him for a half second more, then went back to looking around, seemingly satisfied for now, though Zanka had the nagging feeling she'd be bugging him about it later. If there was one thing he did appreciate about Riyo though, it was her discretion. Well, discretion about some things. They had a mutual understanding about the things they liked to hide, and where his mask was one of cold aloofness, hers was an almost aggressively easygoing joviality and flirtiness. On the rare occasions when things got too heavy, when cracks started to appear, they'd find each other in the quiet hours of the night and just talk about nothing, usually accompanied by a mug of green tea and spicy hot chocolate respectively, until the sun came up. And then, the next day, they would act like it never happened. It helped, the liminality of it all making it easier to separate that Zanka from who he wanted to be. And he imagined it was the same for her. 

"Keep your eyes peeled gang, the main nest should be around here somewhere." Enjin's voice broke him out of his thoughts. Man, he really needed to get it together today. 

They branched out slowly, the hills making it easy to get vantage points when they found a tall one, while also doing a worryingly good job of obsuring their vision when they were in the valleys between them. He'd have to try and keep the high ground when they started fighting. If they started fighting. He still hadnt seen a single trash beast. The silence was quickly becoming unnerving, and Zanka couldn't help but think about how easy it would be for someone to hide behind one of the many hills, watching them and waiting to pounce. The thought made his skin crawl and he subtly kept his head on a swivel, grip tight on Lovely Assistaff as her soul thrummed beneath his hands.

After a bit of walking, Gris paused and turned around towards the group, scratching his head.

"Okay I thi-"

He was suddenly cut off by the ground exploding under him as everyone yelled, a  large trash beast pulling itself out of the ground with a roar, sending debris flying everywhere. Gris's quick reflexes had saved him, jumping back out of range with only a slight stumble. 

"Okay, well that solves that I guess!" He yelled with a slightly nervous laugh. 

The trash beast was relatively small for such a remote area, probably just a bit bigger than their car. Nowhere near as large as the goliaths that ruled no-mans-land, but still bigger than the ones that liked to travel in hoards near the cities. It was shaped like a giant mole, with hands that boasted terrifyingly sharp white claws (nope don't think about it do NOT think about it) no doubt meant for digging, but with the bony head and long jaw of a crocodile.

Its eyes, solitary burning lights in empty sockets, turned to the closest person near it, which happened to be Zanka, and charged, the grating sound of its call echoing off the walls of trash surrounding them. Great. Zanka burst into action, dodging a swipe with a spin and using that momentum to slam Lovely Assistaff into the things side, knocking it over and exposing its underbelly, where Riyo immediately swooped in and buried her trusty scissors into its gut with a low kick before it could move. The thing made one final screech and writhed around pathetically before going limp as it started to collapse back into junk. A moment of silence echoed around the group as they all waited for something more.

"...Okay, that was way too easy, right?" Riyo questioned, standing up. 

"Oh you SO just jinxed us" Enjin replied with a laugh, only to be immediately proven right as the ground shook beneath all of them, making them stumble slightly and get a better grip on their weapons before trash beasts started bursting out of the ground in all directions. They looked the same as the one they'd just beaten, except for the fact that they were all maybe twice its size and somehow looked way more pissed. And they just kept coming. Zanka could hear them clawing their way out of the trash in areas he couldn't even see. Ugh, what a pain.

Enjin twirled his now transformed Umbreaker in his hand, grin clear in his eyes.

"Alright everyone, seems they brought the whole community out just for us, ain't that nice? Let's give them a good show." And then they were off. 

It wasn't often they all got to fight so close to each other, and Zanka quickly realized he'd missed it. They worked seamlessly together, supporter and giver alike hitting, trading, and dodging as they quickly whittled down the enemy's numbers. It was a song and dance they were all familiar with by that point, and even Rudo, who was comparatively so new, was matching their tempo perfectly, swinging around what looked to be some type of sword gracelessly but with enough speed and force that it didn't really matter. Follo hit a trash beast's face hard with his hammer, sending it towards Zanka with a call of his name, and he was more than happy to slam it into the ground with Lovely Assistaff from above, its skull shattering in one hit from the force. Zanka couldn't stop the satisfied smile on his face, glad no one could see it through the mask. The thrill of battle hummed in his bones, lighting up his veins. Everyone moving together as one entity, one mind. It was fun, and the feeling of his team fighting beside him, different rhythms all beautifully in sync, made it even better. 

They'd probably made their way through about half of the beasts —though it was hard to tell with limited visibility— when the ground shook again. 

"Woah seriously, another wave?" 

But the rumbling didn't stop, and in fact only got more intense, to the point where everyone, including the trash beasts, had stopped fighting and were just struggling to not trip over themselves as the ground shook. With a monumental final shudder, an explosion of trash from about 200 yards away revealed a truly massive version of the beasts they've been fighting, towering over everything in sight and letting out an earsplitting roar.

"Now that," zanka thought, somewhat hysterically "looks like it could belong in no mans land."

"WHAT THE SHIT?? IS THAT LIKE THEIR QUEEN OR SOMETHING?!" Screeched Rudo before parrying a trash beast that had apparently decided their timeout was over.

Enjin drove his umbrella through the jaw of the beast wrestling with Rudo and cleared his throat.

"Man. Okay. Listen up everyone! Rudo and Gris, you take everything to the East! Riyo and Follo, you do the West! Zanka, you can handle the South! And I," he paused for dramatic effect, pulling his umbrella from the now dead trash beast with a flourish. "will handle big boy up there. Now break!" 

Zanka immediately turned South, a small part of him sad he wouldn't be able to see Enjin's battle with the goliath, but a much larger part of him absolutely glowing with the fact that he was the only one Enjin had assigned to a quadrant alone. And sure, it was probably just because they didn't have another supporter, but Enjin had trusted his abilities enough to go solo like he did. Man, this really was a good day. 

...

The beasts were slightly more annoying to kill on his own, especially in such large quantities, but his team had diminished most of their numbers before they had to split up. He ended up getting lost in the familiar rhythm of fighting a predictable enemy, expertly swinging Lovely Assistaff around, and it wasn't too long before he was finishing off the last few he could see. Though tiring, the fight had been somewhat unsatisfying, and he looked around for anything else before turning back to where he came from. He'd ended up pretty far away from the group, though he could still hear the distant sounds of battle in multiple directions. Selfishly, he hoped he was the first to finish. Besides Enjin of course, since he couldn't see the giant beast anymore, meaning Enjin had already made quick work of it. Man, he really was amazing. For a moment, envy and admiration battled inside him, followed quickly by guilt at the former. It wasn't Enjin's fault Zanka was still so weak. He just needed to get stronger, keep pushing himself further. He dusted his pants off and started heading back to the group. 

It was just as he was about to crest a peak that he heard something flying through the air, and without any time to react more than turning his head toward the noise, felt something small and sharp sink into the side of his neck. He brought a hand to it instantly, feeling a dart of some kind, and ripped it out, panic starting to set in as soon as he looked at it. It was a syringe. A now empty syringe.

He looked around desperately for where it came from, before he finally saw it. A person, with a blow gun of all things, barely visible behind a hill to his left. He lifted his staff and wave of dizziness hit him all at once. Right, the syringe. Probably a tranquilizer. Shit. He needed to tell his team. He wobbled, it taking everything in him to stay upright, and reached with a hand that didn't feel like his over to his choker, finally managing to turn it on. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, and his warning turned from speech into a half garbled sound of distress before his legs finally gave out on him and he collapsed to the ground. Damn it. No. He was better than this, he could fight this. His choker crackled to life with Riyo's amused voice.

"Rudo, did you trip and accidentally activate your choker again?" 

"Wha- hey! That wasn't even me, turdface!" 

"uh huh, suuure it wasn't" 

"Okay, okay you two, quit fighting and get back to- uh. fighting" Enjin lightly scolded, voice sounding distant. Everything sounded distant.

Zanka heard muffled footsteps coming up behind him, and a large pair of hands flipped him over onto his back. Everything was hazy, his body wouldnt listen to him, even as he strained every muscle. He looked at his attacker, the sun in his eyes making it harder than it needed to be, and though he couldnt make out too many details, he could see enough, and was more surprised by the fact that he didnt recognize them at all, and they weren't wearing the signature purple of the raiders or one of their lanterns. No way he just got taken out by some rando. 

"Oh wow, you're still awake?" A deep voice  rumbled with a hint of some accent Zanka didn't recognize. "You must be prettty resilient. Or maybe your willpower is just that strong. That's interesting. Thats very interesting. Oh this is gonna be fun!" 

Zanka grit his teeth, and tried to use what little facial control he had to show just how not-fun he found this entire thing so far. The man just laughed, and pulled out some type of baton from behind his back. Holy shit. he was going to die here huh. He was going to get beaten to death by some bozo with a stick in the middle of nowhere and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. He tried to choke out a question to stall him, but he still couldn't speak. He was- no. It couldn't end like this. He grit his teeth and with everything left in him, he tried to move the hand still holding Lovely Assistaff, trying to angle it just enough so that he could send her spikes through the guys fucking torso.

Even moving his hand was a monumental effort, and he was slow, and shaky. And before he could do anything more than lift his hand off the ground the man saw him moving and stepped on his wrist, pinning it, and Assistaff, in place. The man let out a sigh, and somewhat petulantly said "It would have been better for you if you'd just given in to the tranquilizer. Sorry about this." And with no time to reply, not that he could, the man swung.

The last thing Zanka experienced was the sight of a black baton flying towards his head and the ringing crack of metal hitting bone before everything went dark. 

Chapter Text

Zanka woke up slowly, and with an absolutely splitting headache. He briefly cracked one eye open before shutting it instantly, and even with his room as dark as it was, his door must have been open, because the fluorescent lights in the hallway were killing him. He didn't have them in his room for exactly that reason, preferring the softer, warmer light lamps provided. The cold fluorescence, aside from just being ugly, reminded him too much of the academy, of the Hell Guard.

He tried to open his eyes again and gave up near immediately as pain pounded in his head. He hadn't felt this bad waking up in a long time. Maybe ever. The closest he'd gotten was probably the one time Riyo had managed to convince him to steal a full bottle of gin from Tamsy and get absolutely hammered one night in her room to celebrate his birthday. Honestly, it had been fun, albeit extremely embarrassing. They took turns doing shots with chaser stolen from the kitchen until most of the bottle was gone, and when the alcohol finally hit mid card game it hit hard. They were both quickly plastered, and her good mood was contagious while intoxicated, and they'd spent the night laughing, doing bad karaoke with arms swung around each others shoulders, and had gotten so loud that someone had banged on the wall and yelled at them to shut up, which only made them laugh harder. It had turned out he was something of an affectionate drunk, and with filter and inhibitions gone he'd told Riyo how much he appreciated her over and over, and even how much he wished she was his sister instead, which would have been so much more embarrassing if not for the fact that she had cried big drunk tears and hugged him saying she was his sister, and had always wanted a brother like him. They'd fallen asleep sprawled across each other on the bed, and that was how Enjin had found them the next morning after they didn't show up for breakfast. The following hours were absolute hell, and had them taking turns in front of the toilet bowl, an exasperated Enjin bringing them water and light food. They'd both had to be on dish duty for a month, and Zanka had sworn off alcohol entirely, while Riyo still snuck drinks occasionally, but never to a degree like that again. 

The memory still made him smile, despite the pulsing pain still making itself known in his skull. Ugh, he really needed to close that door. He could vaguely hear voices to his left, and wasn't keen on someone walking past his room and seeing him laying pathetically on the floor.

...Actually, why was he on the floor? He wracked his brain trying to remember what he'd done last night that could have ended up with him in this position, but all he remembered was going out on a job with Team Akuta that morning. The digging trash beast mob, the giant mole-gator-thing, splitting up to- Oh no. He opened his eyes for real this time, ignoring the pain, blinking harshly til his eyes finally focused only to be met with a damp, dark, concrete ceiling, connected to the ground in front of him with a series of long iron bars. No. No no nonono.

He shot up into a sitting position and instantly regretted it, cradling his head and feeling feeling sticky, half dried blood at his temple as he tried to focus on his breathing. Right. The baton. Piece of shit tranquilizer. Crazy guy. Shit. His TEAM. What had happened to them after he'd just passed out? He couldn't even warn them properly. Were they here? Damn it. He should've been faster. Smarter. Enjin trusted him to go alone and this is what he does? If he'd gone for his choker right away maybe he could've said something actually useful instead of whatever mess had left his mouth instead.

His choker! He reached for it, only to find his wrists bare, and upon the movement of his shoulders he noticed a much larger, different piece of metal encircling his neck. Some sort of collar, so big and cumbersome he was shocked it took him this long to realize it was there. He pulled at it, a sharp pain at the back of his neck instantly making him regret that decision. He needed to get out of here. Now.

He stood up on wobbly legs, using the bars in front of him to keep his balance, and accompanying the brutal headache was now nausea, fantastic. He was pissed. He took a breather, forehead pressing up against the cold metal bars, and finally actually processed the voices he'd been tuning out. 

Well, voice, singular. A too familiar, lilting, almost melodic timbre to his left that hadn't stopped or slowed since he first got assaulted with consciousness. 

"-ful getting up so fast tough guy, thats a pretty nasty headwound ya got. Who gave it to you? Ya been fighting other people? You're gonna break my heart Zan-Zan, I thought we had something special." 

Zanka grit his teeth, turning and looking over at who he already knew was there. When they finally locked eyes Jabber looked absolutely giddy. He was in a cell too, next to his, the same metal collar strapped around his neck, trapped just like Zanka was and yet still looking like the cat that got the canary. Zanka could feel all the frustration and loathing he'd been pushing down rise up to the surface all at once and it was all-consuming. 

"GREAT! Just great! As if this could get any better!" he bit out, seething. Of course he was stuck here, injured, in a damp, dirty cell, and of course he was stuck here with fucking Jabber of all people. 

Jabber whistled appreciatively, "Man, you're in a mood today. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" and cackled at his own joke. Zanka was gonna strangle him. He was gonna rip out those bars with his bare hands and use them to beat Jabber to death.  

...Though actually, ripping the bars out wasn't such a bad idea. Based on how damp the ceiling seemed, and the muffled echo of Jabbers voice reverberating around them, they were probably underground. Meaning hopefully if the bars were old enough they'd have started to rust at the connection points, and maybe with enough force he could pop them free. He moved along the wall, testing each bar with his hands, pushing and pulling for any sort of give. They didn't budge.

"Awww c'mon, don't ignore me." Jabber whined, smile evident in his voice. Zanka very pointedly ignored him.

Maybe he just needed more force. He picked what he thought was a good spot, and after checking the distance and his stance, he shifted his weight, and sent a powerful side kick with his heel into the bars, the sound ringing out loudly, doing nothing to help his headache. Nothing happened. He moved a few steps down and tried again.

"I already tried that, man." Jabber drawled, bored. "They're solid. Though, it is fun to watch you try. Maybe you should use those kicks on me instead~"

Zanka ignored him even more aggressively, and methodically kept trying new areas to kick with his full strength, getting more frustrated as his leg started to go numb and tingly from all the vibrating force the bars gave back, head still pounding.

"Its not gonna woork~" Jabber singsonged, and Zanka couldn't help himself but mutter a bitter "yeah, for you maybe." under his breath before trying another kick, harder still. Jabber just laughed, delighted.

"Man, you really are in a mood today, huh! Who knew all it took to get you this pissed off was just a good old fashioned kidnapping! I mean, you really look like you're gonna murder someone. I'm almost jealous!" 

Zanka wanted to scream. He wanted to rip his hair out. He wanted to know if his team was safe. He wanted out of the goddamn cell, and more than anything else he wanted Jabber to shut. up. 

He had one last hail mary. He backed up, almost to the far end of his cell, and broke into a sprint. He jumped, both legs in the air, body compressing, as he double jump-kicked a single bar with everything he had left in him. It connected, transferring all his force and momentum to the metal as it rung, and his body crashed to the floor, air momentarily forced out of his lungs at the impact and making his head erupt with more pain, and even without looking he could tell it wasn't enough. The bars remained solid. Zanka squeezed his eyes closed and just took some breaths, trying to find something, anything, to ground himself with. 

"Damn, that was some force! You should use some more kicks in our fights, I reeeally wanna feel what those legs can do to me!" Jabber breathed, almost dreamily. Freak. 

Zanka gave himself one more second to just lay there, taking a slow breath in and pushing it out through his nose, before he set his jaw and sat back up. He was done moping. The bars were a bust, but there had to be something else. Maybe a lock he could pick, or a guard he could trick or bribe. He didn't exactly know what he'd bribe them with persay, but the thought was something. And evidently, Jabber had been here longer than him, or at least had been awake longer than him, so if he was gonna run his mouth off anyway Zanka might as well use him for information.

He looked over, Jabber's eyes already on him. Locked in on him, just like they always were. He ignored the spike of something that went through his core at the intensity Jabber always looked at him with; a look that always left him feeling exposed and trapped, like a pinned bug. He sighed, swallowing his pride.

"Fine, I'll bite. Whats the deal with this place, why're we here?" 

"No clue." Jabber responded casually, shrugging and sticking his tongue out. 

Zanka wondered if he moved fast enough if he'd be able to wrap his hands around Jabbers throat through the bars separating them. Though after a moment clearly reveling in Zankas expression, Jabber continued.

"I've only been here like, uhhhh, a day? Maybe two? They gave me two meals and I've fallen asleep at least once so. yeah." He shrugged again.

Okay, the strangling could wait. For now. And only just barely. Zanka took a breath. He could work with this.

"Okay. Who's they? How many people? Did they say anything or just give ya the food? Did they open the door to give it to you?"

"Hmmm I dunno, those are a lot of questions, what do I get in return?" Jabber's eyes twinkled.

Zanka felt his eye twitch.

"My foot up yer ass." 

"Promise??" 

Ugh. This was impossible. HE was impossible. Zanka threw his hands up, giving up for now and turned around to go lay back down in the corner furthest away from Jabber, who was still laughing. 

Maybe this was all some horrible nightmare and he'd wake up in the back of the cleaners car, music playing softly as the engine hummed and took the tired givers back to HQ. Maybe he'd wake up with Rudo's head on his shoulder, drooling onto his uniform as Riyo tried to angle herself into the middle section enough to take a photo. He didn't think he'd mind that this time, even though it was gross and embarrassing and the kid probably had rabies or something, and Riyo and Enjin would definitely tease them nonstop with the photo.

The idea that he might not ever see them again suddenly occurred to him and it felt like the floor had fallen out below him, a cold, seizing terror suddenly gripping his heart. A grief that threatened to swallow him whole. He pushed it back immediately. He wasn't gonna give up that easy. They weren't here, at least as far as he could see, and he had been pretty far away when he got attacked, so there was a good chance they hadn't been taken at all. They were probably looking for him right now, all he needed to do was wait it out, or bust out of this place and make it easier for them. He was still alive, and as long as he was alive he wasn't gonna do something as lame as give up. He'd get back to them. No matter what it took. 

He kept thinking of his team as he closed his eyes, sleep beginning to take him once more. The teasing, the bickering, stealing food of each others plates, petty arguments, teaming up to mess with one another. The quiet, unspoken love and care. Riyo's laugh,  Rudo's determination, Enjins trust. All his memories playing and overlapping as he slowly drifted back to sleep, body and mind exhausted. He would see them again. Or die trying.


...


Zanka woke up to the most annoying voice in the world calling his name, and in retaliation immediately rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. The ground was cold and uncomfortable, and little pebbles were digging into his cheek but he couldn't bring himself to care. Eyes closed, he mentally sighed at the now concrete knowledge that the whole thing had not, in fact, been some sort of stress-induced fever dream.

Jabber got louder and Zanka stubbornly kept his eyes closed. If being awake meant dealing with Jabber he was going to spend as much time sleeping as possible. Plus, his body felt like he could still probably get at least another hour of rest, something he was desperate to take advantage of. He'd almost drifted off again, when something small and solid had suddenly flown through the air and collided with the back of his shoulder, making him shoot up into a sitting position and glare at Jabber.

"What is yer- did you just throw your shoe at me?!" 

Jabber just grinned at him, guiltless. "You were ignoring me, what was I supposed to do?" 

"I was sleeping."

"Same difference. How's the head? Looks better"

Infuriatingly, his head did feel a lot better. There was still a fair amount of pain, especially when his fingers grazed the wound, but nowhere near as bad as it had been yesterday. Was it yesterday? His thoughts still seemed a little hazy, like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong spot. 

"Shut up. As if you care." He said, with much less bite than he meant to. Jabber didn't respond immediately, looking at Zanka with that same pinning gaze, though this time it had something dark in it just below the surface.

"I wanna know if someone else can beat you as bloody as I can. And if they hit you hard enough to mess your brain up I wanna know so I can take my time ripping them to pieces with Mankira." 

The serious tone in Jabbers voice caught Zanka off guard. Was Jabber seriously being...what, protective? In his own, weird, fucked up way? Nah, not protective. Possessive. The hypocrisy of it all made Zankas head swim.

"Right, and I guess it's only okay when you do it" He said sarcastically. Jabber nodded.

"You're mine," –Zanka scoffed, but Jabber continued, unphased– "and I'm yours. I wanna see you get all beat up and bloody by my hand, and I want you to lose yourself doing the same to me, 'til we both reach our fullest potential on the brink of death. You still have to beat me, I'd be pissed as hell if you let some random incapacitate that brain 'a yours with a cheap shot." 

Zanka just blinked as he struggled for words. It was way too early for this. He hated how honest Jabber always was, how unafraid he was to say stupid, embarrassing things like that. And he hated even more how he understood what he meant.

Jabber was still looking at him, looking right through him. He needed to say something.

"...Shut up. I don't 'belong' to anyone. Much less yer sorry ass." Was what he eventually settled on. It sounded lame even to him. Damn it.

Jabber hummed, a growing smile on his face.

"Not gonna say anythin about me being yours? Careful Zan-zan, you'll give a guy the wrong idea~" He purred, and with Zanka's withering glare, he laughed, and the tension was broken again. 

Distant footsteps echoed from the right side of the hallway and drew both their attention. Jabber stood up, stretching, as several of his joints popped at a volume that was slightly concerning.

"Oh boy, breakfast!"

Zanka stayed tense, ready for his first real look at his captors. Two people came into view carrying trays of food, both men. One slightly taller than the other, both surprisingly well built. That was troubling, not only because it would make escape that much more difficult, but also because to get a physique like that on the ground required constant access to good, nutritious food, which was only available to those in powerful organizations or those strong enough to be regularly hired by them. Plus, neither looked like the guy who'd shot the dart at him. So whatever he'd been pulled into was definitely bigger than just a couple kidnappers. They both had small remotes on their belts with two buttons, and pistols on their hips. The sight of the guns made Zanka's stomach churn. Were they Hell Guard? They didn't walk like military but it ticked all the other boxes. He really hoped they weren't. If they were, did they know who he was? Though if they did, why was he in the cell? And why was Jabber there too? 

"Move back against the wall." The taller of the two commanded, breaking the silence.

He stared down the guard, unmoving. Testing his limits. Every piece of info was valuable. Jabber also didn't move, though he was watching Zanka, excitement growing on his face as he watched the standoff. 

"Both of you, now. Final warning, or face disciplinary action."

When they still didnt move, he nodded to the other guard, and in sync they reached down to the remotes on their belts. Zanka tensed, and with a click his world lit up with pain. The shock lasted maybe 3 seconds, but it was enough to bring him to the floor, gasping, unused to that type of pain.

Jabber lay on the floor of his own cell, panting, a dopey smile on his face and one hand on his crotch, and Zanka's face turned red as he suddenly realized why Jabber hadn't moved. God, he really was a freak. 

"Mmmm yeah, hahh, one more, do it again." Jabber begged, finally looking at the two men. Ironically, the guards seemed more disturbed by this than Zanka, professional facades cracking slightly as they looked to each other with poorly concealed confusion and alarm.

Zanka remembered how he'd felt when he was first exposed to Jabbers....tendencies, and despite everything felt a small pang of hysterical sympathy for their captors, who clearly wanted to punish him in some way while having no clue how to do so effectively. In the end, they settled for keeping a gun trained on a grinning Jabber while the other guard unlocked a small section at the bottom of the door, not much bigger than a doggy door, and slid the tray of food in. Zanka had really been hoping the "up against the wall" routine meant they'd need to fully unlock the cell doors to feed them, but no such luck. And the fact that they were being so careful was even worse.

When they moved over to him he begrudgingly shuffled towards the back wall. He had briefly entertained the idea of pretending to enjoy it the way jabber had to make them less inclined to do it again, but he abandoned the idea almost immediately. Not only did he doubt his ability to act convincingly while being electrocuted, but between being zapped or being shot he'd definitely prefer the former, as much as his muscles ached. Plus, the idea of how absolutely insufferable Jabber would become if he thought Zanka had turned into a masochist like him made him shudder. He watched as they opened the door and slid the tray in, the taller guard not taking his hand off the remote the entire time, eyes trained on Zanka. 

With both trays deposited and cells re-locked, the guards left again, and Zanka came forward to check out the food they'd been given. It wasn't much, a bowl filled with some kind of soup and another filled with what he could already tell was overcooked rice. A large plastic cup of water in the corner rounded off the meal. The lack of utensils was annoying, mostly for the rice, but zanka decided to worry about that later, taking a sip of the soup. It wasn't the worst food he'd had, but even calling it good was being generous. Still though, he hadn't eaten in a while, and he supposed beggars couldn't be choosers. He took another sip, and swallowed, trying to convince himself it wasn't that bad. Maybe even enjoyable, for the right pallate. 

"Damn, this soup sucks shit." remarked Jabber suddenly from beside him and Zanka thanked whatever god was listening that he didn't have food in his mouth at the moment as a harsh laugh wrenched its way out of his chest without his permission. The absurdity of the whole situation hit him all at once as another laugh escaped, and another. Now that he'd started, he couldn't seem to stop. He doubled over, feeling absolutely hysterical as the mental image of the guards' panicked reaction to Jabber's electricity-induced hard on sent him into another round of choking laughter. He looked over at Jabber, who had completely frozen, a true, unadulterated look of shock on his features as he just stared at Zanka like he'd never seen him before. Which of course just made it harder to stop. Zanka's stomach hurt from laughing, unused to it, and he wiped tears from his eyes as he tried to calm himself down, taking long wheezing breaths, before he got another look at Jabbers face, still frozen in that stupid shocked expression, and he dissolved into another fit. He collapsed onto his back as he finally started to get his breathing under control, staring at the ceiling. He needed to get it together, he probably looked insane. Maybe he was. Maybe that baton hit to the head actually had knocked something important.

"God. This is so fucking stupid." he choked out in between wheezes. And it was. All of it, from start to finish. 

He rubbed his hands over his face, mulling over just how quickly everything had gone to shit. How was this his life? 

"Hey, give me some of your soup." Jabber said, breaking his train of thought.

Zanka blinked.

"What? You just said you hated it, and you have yer own bowl anyway, fuck off."

"Nahh, come on, they clearly didn't put in mine whatever they put in yours. What is it? Neurotoxin? Poison? Hallucinogen? What does it feel like? Ya gotta tell me! Ya gotta let me try!" Jabbers voice increased in intensity as his questions did, going from subdued to a now obsessive excitement.

Of course Jabber thought he'd lost it due to being drugged. He guessed it made sense, since the only time the other had seen him in a similar state – the only time anyone had seen him in a state like that – had been in the belly of the trash beast, mindlessly high on Jabbers toxins and barely fighting off death. 

"It ain't drugged." 

"Yeah right, c'monnn Zan-zan, don't be greedy." He honest-to-god pouted, a kicked puppy expression on his face that would make Zanka want to laugh again if he didnt feel completely and utterly drained.

"Just a bite, c'mon man. I've been so generous, givin you so many delicious poisons and you can't even share a single bite of yours with your good friend Jabber?" 

Passively, Zanka thought it was almost impressive how many untrue statements Jabber could cram into a single sentence. 

Jabber continued to beg, and as much as he reveled in having the upper hand for once, he got the sense that Jabber really wouldn't let up, even if ignored, and Zanka's headache was only getting worse.

"Fine. Gimme some of yer rice." 

The bowls were too large to fit between the gaps in the bars while still being horizontal, but the gaps were wide enough for Jabbers hands to slide through easily, handing over what looked to be half of his remaining rice, not that there was too much left. The guy must eat like a maniac.

"Okay, now keep your bowl by the bars. If this drips on the floor I'm not givin ya any more."

Jabber nodded eagerly. Zanka took the rice and dunked it in his soup, keeping his fingers cupped and moving it quickly and carefully over the few inches to the bars, trying to drop it in Jabbers raised bowl. 

Instead, he was suddenly met with Jabbers mouth wrapping around his fingers instead. He yanked back his hand on instinct more than anything, and the wet pop his fingers made sliding from Jabbers tightly sealed lips was obscene. Jabber, still making eye contact, swallowed and licked his lips, lazy smile growing, and he looked real proud of himself. Zanka was gonna have an aneurysm. He could tell his face was bright red and burning, and it was like his brain had short-circuted. Anger, surprise, disgust, and a burning heat in his stomach as he remembered the split-second feel of Jabbers tongue pressing on his fingers all fought for his attention at once. He felt violated, and angry, and he wanted to get him back, and then another flush overtook him as he realized his first instinct was wanting to shove his fingers back in Jabbers mouth, further, more aggressively, making him take it as retribution.

...Maybe that soup was laced with something. Maybe there was something in the air. Or maybe it was the concussion. There had to be something. He hadnt even been here for more than a day or two and he already felt like he was going insane, though maybe that was just Jabber's effect on him. He always seemed to be able to tear down Zankas perfectly constructed persona with ease, knowing exactly what buttons to push, pulling the parts of himself he hated up to the surface from where they were buried until they consumed him, until he was left exposed. Raw. He despised it. Despised Jabber, who was still looking at him, infuriating smile still on his face, until he seemed to realize something, and suddenly frowned.

"Man, that was just regular soup."

Zanka moved before he could think, his fist speeding past the bars and slamming into Jabbers nose as he felt a wet crunch of cartilage beneath his knuckles. 

Jabber fell back, hands cupped over the bloody mess on his face, as a crazed laugh escaped him. He laid there, staring at the ceiling, giggling and struggling for breath, and Zanka hated how it mirrored the positions they'd both been in just a few minutes prior. 

After a minute or so, Jabber slowly sat back up, and Zanka felt a dark satisfaction at just how much blood covered the lower half of Jabbers face, nose crooked and clearly broken. 

"Ooh man. Ooh MAN that was good. You really got me!"

He kept pressing his fingers to the stream of blood and pulling away to look down at it, like he couldn't process what he was seeing. Or like he just wanted to see it over and over. Probably the latter.

"Zanka," he breathed his name like a prayer, "you make me bleed so good. So perfect."

There was a desperate heat in his eyes, and unsurprisingly, a tent in his pants. He shuffled over the bars, pressing himself up against them. 

"Do it again, you know you wanna. Lemme see that brutality I know you have in you!" 

Zanka just glared at him, fists still clenched, knuckles slightly stinging.

"Yeah, yeah, that's it, keep looking at me like that. Like I'm a bug you wanna crush under your boot" Jabber moaned.

This was all too much. Way too much. There were no good answers, no solutions, and the anger that came with that knowledge just made him wanna hit Jabber again, which only made him angrier since he couldn't even do that without playing right into his hands and giving him exactly what he wanted. Zanka could feel his teeth grinding against each other from how tight he was clenching his jaw.

Instead, Zanka picked up his tray and turned around. He walked to the far end of the cell, and sat facing the wall. He felt a bit stupid doing so, but anything was better than having to look at Jabber right now, especially because he could still hear him panting and groaning behind him, calling Zanka's name with that stupid breathiness that made his stomach flip. 

It wasn't long before –mercy of all mercies– footsteps sounded out again from the far end of the hall, and craning his head to look, Zanka had never been so grateful to see two people he hated. When they reached Jabbers cell, they paused briefly as they took in the situation, before seemingly deciding to just take it in stride, likely deciding it was none of their business. Lucky them. 

"Jabber Wonger. Up against the wall"

"One minute man, I'm so close."  He said dreamily, and the shorter guard put a warning hand on his remote. Apparently they hadn't learned from last time, because all it did was make Jabber more excited. 

"Ohh yeah, I think a good shock would get me there, c'mon, do it." He begged. 

Either the guard had been bluffing, or he'd just remembered what Jabber was like, because he took his hand off the remote. 
"Move against the back wall now, final warning." 

Jabber just waited, visibly excited. The guard, in response, simply hit a different button on his remote, then put a hand to his choker. 

"Cease all meals and water to subject G012-a for 24 hours, effective immediately."

Ah, so that was their new method of dealing with him. It had been a bluff.

A short, affirmative noise crackled out of the choker and the guard stepped back, watching. At first, it didn't seem like anything else had happened, save for Jabber's fervent excitement slowly dimming at the loss of a painful opportunity. Though, after a few seconds, it became clear it wasn't just disappointment slowing Jabbers movements, as his eyes began to droop and he ungracefully collapsed onto his back once more. So thats what the second button was, some sort of tranquilizer. Probably even the same one Zanka himself had fallen victim to when he was first taken. It must have been pretty potent to be able to do this much to Jabber, of all people. Or maybe they'd just given him a massively increased dose, knowing of his proclivities. Probably that, they'd known his name after all. 

Again, the shorter guard kept a gun trained on Jabber while the other unlocked the cell door. Only they didn't open the small door this time to get the food tray back like he'd been expecting, and instead fully opened the cage and stepped inside. The muscular guard quickly manhandled Jabber onto his front, arms behind him as he tightly secured a pair of metal cuffs on them. Jabber wriggled around, still grinning, if subdued. The guard hoisted Jabber up to his feet by his joined hands harshly, in a way that made Zankas shoulderblades ache in sympathy. And then he pulled Jabber out of the cell and dragged him out and down the hallway with the other guard, leaving Zanka alone in the deafening quiet of his cage.

Chapter Text

Zanka waited for something, anything, to happen. Going to the front bars, he strained to try and hear or see anything that would give him a clue as to what they were doing with Jabber. After a few minutes, it became clear they weren't coming back right away to grab him too, and that wasn't as big of a relief as he'd hoped. There was a non-zero chance they'd just taken Jabber off to execute him. And there was a non-zero chance Zanka was next. Great. He stepped back from the bars, going back to the wall where his tray of half eaten food –his last meal, maybe– resided, and leaned his back against the cool concrete, before sliding down into a sitting position on the floor. Hating, not for the first time, just how powerless he felt. 

"Cease all meals and water to subject G012-a for 24 hours, effective immediately."

...No, they hadn't killed Jabber. Probably. It wouldn't make sense. But the question remained of what they were doing to him. And what they were gonna do to Zanka.

...

It had been maybe an hour or two –with no clocks or sunlight all he could do was guess– before he finally heard something other than the tapping of his own foot on the ground and the occasional drip. Scrambling up, he tried to look down the hall. If nothing else, he refused to let them catch him off guard. Slowly, the two guards from before came into view, dragging an unconscious Jabber by the arms. As they got closer, Zanka looked at Jabber, who weirdly enough, didn't seem to have any (new) visible wounds on him, though it was a bit hard to tell since the now mostly dried blood from his broken nose still covered the majority of his lower face. They opened the cell up and tossed Jabber in, his unconscious body landing like a ragdoll. There was something disturbing about seeing him like that, half-expecting at any moment for him to pop back up and say something stupid. But his body just laid there, limp. If not for the slow rise and fall of his chest Zanka could've mistaken him for dead. 

"Face the back wall, hands against your head. Now."

Zanka ripped his eyes away from Jabber's still form and back at the guards.

"What'd you do?" 

He didn't get a chance to do anything else before electricity coursed through him, sending him spasming on the ground. Apparently the guards were done with warnings. The door opened and one of the guards –the shorter one maybe? Not that it mattered– did the same action of shoving his arms behind his back and cuffing them together. Zanka, at least, was able to get his feet under him as the guard yanked him up, though he was still breathing heavily and in no shape to fight back. Not yet at least. The door opened again as they walked him out of the cell. Great. His turn.

He took the chance to look around, trying to get any new information about where they were or how to get out, but the hallway was the same all the way down, and both directions ended in nondescript T-intersections. They marched down towards the far end, passing rows of empty, identical cells. There were maybe a dozen in total. Including the two that housed him and Jabber. They turned right at the end of the hall, before coming up on a security door.

The shorter guard pulled a keycard on a lanyard from their right pocket and scanned it. Zanka filed away that knowledge for later. The door whooshed open and revealed a much cleaner hallway, with linoleum floors and a general smell of antiseptic. They expertly navigated their way past doors with labels he didn't have time to read, too busy trying to engrave the series of turns they were taking into his mind. Left, right, straight, left, second door. The door they ended at also unlocked by keycard, though it wasn't quite as fancy as the previous one. The guard turned the handle and pushed the door open, and he was dragged inside.

The chemical smell was even stronger in here, and the room looked like a doctors office. Well, if a doctors office and a torture chamber had an ugly baby. It had the usual shelves and cabinets, along with a pristine countertop and metal sink. But where a patient bed would normally sit there was a large, half reclined chair made of metal and covered in a thick, padded material, with large metal cuffs welded where a persons wrists and ankles would go, as well as a large one by the head. His thoughts ranged from "how cliché" to "absolutely NOT" as he dug his heels into the ground when they started pulling him over to it.

He knew, realistically, that struggling would get him nowhere. They outnumbered him, they overpowered him, he was still recovering from a probably-concussion, and on top of all that he was still fucking handcuffed. But his brain just wouldn't allow him to passively let himself get strapped into the torture-chair. Not that it mattered because they were quickly able to wrestle him into the chair anyway, one of the guards holding him down while the other secured the metal restraints on his legs. They uncuffed him then, with a key also on the lanyard –*noted*– before each grabbing a wrist and locking those in as well. With arms and legs secured, they moved to the one across his forehead, securing it in place with a final, damning click.  He struggled for just a moment, testing the restraints, but they were solid, and tight, and the metal bit into his joints uncomfortably. The guards nodded and then left the room, scanning the same card to get out. Locked from both sides, then. He sat there, trapped and stuck facing the door, waiting for whoever or whatever was going to come in and make his life hell that day.

He tried looking around more, thinking maybe he could find something to free himself with, or take back into his cell to pick the lock, but there was nothing. Not that he could reach it if there was. Presumably the only things not neatly tucked away in cabinets or drawers were several thick colored binders on one of the shelves, along with a box of what looked like files.

After a few minutes, he heard the mechanical click of the door unlocking, and it opened to reveal an older man in a white lab coat, followed by the asshole who had hit Zanka with the blow dart, also in a coat. They had a small symbol on the breast pocket that he didn't recognize. The old man gave him a friendly smile as he set his notebooks and pen down on the counter.

"Hello there! Zanka, correct?" 

Zanka just continued to glare, mostly at blow dart guy, trying to convey with just his eyes how much he wanted to break out of his restraints and beat him senseless. Said guy didn't look his way at all, too busy opening drawers and cabinets as he hummed a tune, pulling things out and lining up vials on a tray as he sorted through files.

"Ah, yes – my assistant told me you'd resisted his darts, that's no easy feat! You should be proud! Subject G012-a, that is—your current neighbor and acquaintance mister Wonger— also showed a resistance, though we expected that, given the nature of his vital instrument."

Him calling Jabber an "acquaintance" of his with a straight face would've made him laugh in any other situation, but there was nothing funny about it right now. The man flipped one of his notebooks open and clicked his pen.

"Tell me, have you always had an increased immunity to toxins? I understand you belong to the Nijiku family, was that part of their training? Or is it simply biological?" 

Zanka suppressed a flinch at the mention of his family, though by the way the old man's head tilted just slightly, he didn't do a good enough job of concealing his reaction entirely. 

"Or maybe another reason? According to my staff you likely have some sort of prior antagonistic relationship with G012-a. Repeated exposure to his vital instrument would eventually cause an increased resistance to most toxins, it's just, well. That would be a bit boring, wouldn't it?" He chuckled, like they were having afternoon tea. Boring. The word got under his skin and his glare only deepened. Despite this, the mans pleasant smile and open body language never faltered.

"Ah, where are my manners, I'm sure you have questions as well, right? Maybe we can do a little trading of information."

Part of Zanka wanted to continue the silent treatment more than anything, but he was at a distinct disadvantage in the conversation regardless, and the only thing staying quiet would help was his pride. 

"Fine. But I'm not telling ya shit about the cleaners, so don't even ask."

The man waved him off, smile still on his face. "Completely fine, I have no interest in that."

Hm.

"What do you want then? And who are you with? Hell Guard? Someone else? You took a raider and a cleaner, you trying to start some kind of war?"

"Oh heavens no, nothing that juvenile." He laughed. "No, I promise my pursuits are much more noble. And I'm certainly not with the Hell Guard, our goals are...somewhat antithetical to theirs."

He was really getting tired of this crazy old man. 

"What goals." 

"Sorry, I believe its my turn. My earlier question still stands, what causes your increased toxin resistance?" 

He thought about lying, but if the man thought he had some sort of inherent biological immunity to poison he might give him more than he could handle.

"Lots of practice." 

He could tell the man was slightly disappointed, but he rebounded quickly.

"What kind of practice? Is it self-inflicted or during combat scenarios? Have you noticed the amount of adrenaline in your system affecting how much you're able to resist?" 

He really was asking the wrong guy about this, Jabber would probably love to talk his ear off about this topic. Those two would probably get on like a house on fire.

"Combat. And no, I haven't noticed. Now, what. goals. are ya talking about?" 

"The pursuit of knowledge, of course! Knowledge that will help us create more vital instruments, and more Givers! We still understand so little about the nature of Givers, and of vital instruments, despite them having been around for ages! What makes someone capable of drawing out the soul of an object, how exactly they're different to a person who can't. Why their instrument can change as it's user does. It's necessary knowledge we don't have. We used to study Shinen as the base of our research on Anima, trash beasts are much easier to get ahold of than givers, afterall. But you can't ask a trash beast what the energy coursing inside them feels like. You can't monitor its vitals, or measure its response to stimuli in anything more quantitative than decibels, really. So we had to switch gears. It's terrible, I know, and I really do feel awful, but its for the good of humanity as a whole, I promise. Your sacrifice will speed up decades of research."

"Oh great, so yer insane." 

"All breakthrough discoveries about humans come at the cost of humans. It's our curse. History won't remember us fondly, and I won't expect them to. But the information we gain by scientific exploration not held back by ethics and red tape will change the world. It brings me no joy to hurt you, it really doesn't. And I understand that you'll hate me no matter what I say, but I hope it brings you some comfort that we're both sacrificing something for the greater good."

The audacity made Zanka's blood boil.

"Don't make me laugh, yer not sacrificing anything, you're not the one strapped to this stupid chair with a goddamn collar around your neck, so until you are, I don't wanna hear it! You can bitch and moan all you want but you're not giving up anything other than yer reputation, which I doubt was even good to begin with." 

And, because apparently he'd decided to really commit to digging his own grave, he lashed out the only way he could. As effectively as he could while restrained, he spat at the old man, trying to land it on his notebook. Or his face. He was about a couple feet short, it landing on the edge of the counter, and as he did, blow gun guy –who had finished setting up and had just been listening to their conversation– stiffened angrily, and made a move to walk over, probably to clobber Zanka, before being stopped by the old man raising a single hand. The man sighed, readjusting his glasses and looked at him once more.

"I'm sorry you can't understand. And I forgive you. I hope, if there's anything beyond this life, that you can eventually forgive me."

"Would you just shut up! I'm sick of yer monologuing."

"Okay," He said evenly, switching to a different notebook. "Let's begin then. Today will be something of a calibration. Ivan, hook him up."

Blow dart guy came forward then, attaching a thin plastic tube with some sort of adapter on both ends to an area of his collar he couldn't see. He stood behind him, which was smart on his part because if he'd been anywhere in front of Zanka he definitely would've tried to hack another loogie at him, consequences be damned. He missed the first part of the old mans sentence while he was fantasizing about it, tuning back in to him talking to his assistant.

"-zine. lets start with 50 mg and increase by 10 at intervals of 90 seconds until blood pressure reaches 160/100."

He could hear a vial being grabbed, and within a minute, he heard a stopwatch turn on as seconds later a burning pain started at the back of his neck, quickly traveling throughout his entire body, setting his nerves on fire. He didn't recognize it specifically as one Jabber had used before, though the general feeling itself was familiar.

He focused on breathing, and tried mentally to separate the pain from himself. If anything, it was easier than fighting Jabber, because here all he had to do was endure it. He didn't have to move around and fight, too. Or deal with Jabbers infuriating personality, which was also a plus.

...He did wish it would stop getting worse though.

Every time he just started to get used to the pain level it would increase into something new and uniquely awful. It just kept building, continually rising to a level where he found himself clenching his jaw to keep from screaming. Each breath he dragged through his nose was a conscious act.

He wasn't sure how long it had been, the pain making time slow down and speed up all at once, but he was starting to reach his limit. His vision was going slightly black around the edges, and he knew from experience it would tunnel in further and further until he lost vision entirely and eventually passed out.

He could hear the two scientists talking in the back of his mind, muffled sounds that made no sense to him. And as blackness slowly blotted out the last pinholes of his vision, he hoped the pain didn't follow him into unconsciousness, and finally slipped away.

...

A now-familiar shock jolted him into awakeness, vision blurry and body heaving. He was still in the chair, still strapped in.

"Ah good, you're back with us. We're flushing that out of your system right now. You did very well!"

What? He could feel his hands shaking, his whole body felt like it had been taken off and put back on inside-out. He must have been making a confused face because the old man elaborated. 

"That was just the first test, we've got a few others we need to run to establish a good baseline for what you can handle to be our control before we start introducing other variables." 

The words didn't register further than realizing he was gonna have to go through that again, that even unconsciousness hadn't saved him. His mouth was dry and his throat burned, trying to swallow on nothing.

"Ah, would you like some water? We need a minute to let your body reset from the last toxin anyway. I'll get you some."

Zanka just watched as he opened a cabinet and got a small paper cup, walking over to the sink and filling it up. He crossed over to Zanka's prone form and tilted it to his lips. It was humiliating, having someone else help him drink, but the cool water was heaven, and he couldn't help but gulp it down. 

The strange accent of the other guy, whatever his name had been, sounded out from behind him. "Vitals stable, toxin 1 fully flushed. Ready for trial 2." 

"No." He croaked, and was promptly ignored.

"Perfect, I think we can start at a slightly higher dose, resistance seems to span multiple types of toxins."

This was hell. He wanted Lovely Assistaff back, and he hated thinking about what these freaks were probably doing to her. He wanted to go home, wanted to be in his own bed. He wondered what his team was doing right now, and allowed himself to take some comfort in the fact that whatever they were doing, at least they weren't here.

Yeah, if anyone was gonna be stuck here, probably best it was him.

That was his last thought before another, different, freezing pain got pumped into his system, and everything started all over again.

...

Zanka woke up feeling like death warmed over, an experience he was getting way too familiar with for his liking. He'd passed out after the final test, like he had with all the others, and instead of shocking him awake again he was guessing they took advantage of his limp state and brought him back to the cell. He rubbed his eyes, just laying there staring at the ceiling. He seemed to be doing a lot of that these days. He wondered what time it was.

"Oh hey, you're up!" Chirped Jabber from his cell, sounding way too energetic. "That was crazy huh? What'd they do for you? They kept makin me pass out and wake back up, it was a rush. Got a little boring after the first couple times, though, not gonna lie."

A little boring. God, this was all so unfair. Another one of the universe's cruel jokes on him, to be trapped and tortured with someone who couldn't even share his misery at the situation. Who was bored by it, of all things.

"Yoohoo, ground to Zanka? Don't tell me you're ignorin me man, I thought we got over that. I still got another shoe y'know."

"...Don't you dare."

"There he is!" He could hear the smile in his voice. "So? What'd they do?" 

He sat up, rolling his shoulders. Fuck it. He supposed they were technically temporary allies by default while trapped here, though he didn't hold his breath that that would extend anywhere past the exchanging of information. 

"Same as you, I think. Old dude wouldn't stop talking about his 'research'," Zanka said with heavy finger quotes. "saying how he was a 'necessary evil' and a bunch of other nonsense before dosing me up with poison. Prick. I bet you two got along just fine." 

Jabber laughed at Zanka's obvious bitterness. 

"Nah, that guy was so boring. Going on and on about 'the good of humanity' as if I give a shit about that. Wasn't even strong either, probably wouldn't last a half second against Mankira's claws. I'd fight the woman before I fought him, he's not even worth the time it'd take to skewer him."

"The woman? What woman?"

Now it was Jabbers turn to look mildly confused.

"Uhhh, y'know, the-" he mimed something vaguely around his head and Zanka stared at him blankly, having absolutely no idea what he was trying to convey. "with the hair, big muscles, y'know!" 

"I really don't. There was no woman with him when I went, just the asshole that hit me with the blow gun." 

"Pffft. You got hit with a blow gun? Dude." 

He felt his face redden. "Oh shut up, I'd just gotten done fighting a big horde of trash beasts and we were in the middle of nowhere, I wasn't expectin it. He caught me off guard, that's all." He paused. "How'd you get taken, anyway?" 

"Bob girl sold me a crazy new paralytic for Mankira and I had to try it out, guess she followed me back to my place cause she came in just as it was starting to get good, put me in a chloroform sack from behind and everything, I could barely move. It was awesome. And then I woke up here." 

"Thats....yeah, that checks out. Only you, Jabber."

"Awwwe, Zan-zan."

"Wasn't a compliment." 

With a final snicker from Jabber, they settled into a surprisingly tolerable silence. 

Of course it couldn't last for long, maybe a minute at most, before Jabber, who had been tapping his bare foot against the ground with increasing speed, had to ruin it. He groaned dramatically, flopping onto the ground.

"This is so boriiiing. We gotta do something."

Zanka rolled his eyes. "What, like eye spy?" He mocked.

"I dunno, something. You wanna take turns punching each other til one of us passes out?"

"Fuck no." 

"Ughhhh!" Jabber whined. "C'mon man, I haven't had a decent fight since our last run in, I'm dyin here." 

He hated how the sound of Jabber begging made something in his stomach flip. He chose to ignore it. He was getting pretty good at that.

"What, being tortured not exciting enough fer ya? Isn't this like your dream or something?" 

"That's different. Well- I mean yeah, but it's no fun when the person doing it ain't interesting at all. And besides, all they're doin is giving me poisons. Which don't get me wrong, they're great! But I can do that at home." 

"How truly terrible for you." He deadpanned.

"I know, right?"  Ugh. "So what do you wanna do?" 

"I'd like to sit in silence."

"Thats so boring thoughh, and you're not boring, are you Zanka?" 

An obvious press at his buttons, but for once he didn't rise to it, already too worn out from everything that had happened earlier, and everything that had been happening in the last 48 hours. He stayed quiet, trying to remember the other doors he'd passed on his way to the lab. Maybe there was something in one of them he could use, if he managed to break free. Or maybe one of them led to an exit. He'd have to try and take a closer look the next time they took him down, though he dreaded the idea of being locked in that chair again.

"I spy...something that starts with a B." 

"Are you serious right now? I was joking."

Jabber just grinned at him in response. Stupid. Zanka heaved out a sigh.

"Fine. Bars."

"Nope!"

Genuinely surprising. He took a second to actually look around, and then across at the dark cells opposite them. 

"Blackness."

"Wrong again, you kinda suck at this man."

He glared at Jabber, and upon actually making eye contact and looking at his face, he suddenly had his answer. 

"...Blood."

"Ding ding ding! We got a winner! Okay, your turn." 

Well, it wasn't like not doing it would make the time go by any faster. He sighed.

"I spy something that starts with P."

...

They went back and forth for a couple rounds before quickly running out of material, since the sparse cells didn't offer much in the way of objects. (After an "F" hint from Jabber, when floor had already been guessed, Zanka refused to keep going, not giving Jabber the satisfaction, though the man in question almost pissed himself laughing anyway.) They transitioned to 20 questions, and Zanka had just gotten Jabbers item, a grenade, on the 13th question when the familiar sound of footsteps came from his right. 

A distant anxiety pulsed through him. It was way too soon for them to bring him back, right? There was no way. He went tense as the two guards came into view, holding a tray of food. Ah. He forgot about the fact that they still needed to eat. He eyed the single tray curiously. Oh right, Jabber had lost his food privileges earlier. When had that been? This morning? Or was it morning now? It was impossible to tell. 

"Against the wall."

Zanka moved without a fight. Better to keep a low profile for now and let them think they'd started beating him down while he planned his escape. 

The small door opened, food sliding in, before locking once more. The guards went back to the right and exited around the corner, making it their fastest visit yet. 

Zanka looked at his options. A large breadroll, and what looked like cooked but unseasoned cubes of tofu in a bowl, as well as the same large cup of water. He drank some of that first, realizing just how dehydrated he'd been, despite the small drinks he'd gotten in between tests in the lab. Honestly, if he was still thirsty, Jabber must have been parched. He looked over to see Jabber crouching next to the bars, just looking at him. 

He was surprised and slightly unnerved by the fact that Jabber hadn't asked for any of his food yet, despite looking at it in a way that clearly showed his hunger. 

"What, not gonna ask for some?" Zanka questioned, against his better judgement.

Jabbers eyes seemed to glow in the light. "Do you want me to ask for some?" 

Before Zanka could answer, Jabber grinned as he moved onto his knees, lacing his fingers in front of his chest and looking up at Zanka through his eyelashes. 

"Please, Zan-kah?" he asked sweetly, tilting his head.

Fuck.

He immediately snapped his gaze back to the food. What the hell. "Get up, idiot. Don't make me punch you again." 

Jabber's eyes crinkled with pure joy, and he was sure if he had a tail it would be wagging.

He ripped off a small quarter of the partly stale breadroll with more force than necessary. He may have been nice enough to share, but no way was he giving him half. Especially after that. He opened it up and put a handful of pieces of the tofu on it, like the worlds strangest open faced sandwich.

"Okay. I swear to god, If you try some weird shit when I give this to you again yer not getting anything else from me ever." He warned sternly.

"Sure, deal." Jabber replied easily, and stuck his hands through the bars over to Zanka's side as a show of good faith. After a moment of staring at him suspiciously, he placed the food into Jabbers waiting hands, and when they pulled back Zanka could've sworn Jabber's fingers had glided against his own just a little bit longer than was necessary. But it could have just been his imagination, or his hypersensitivity to the feeling of Jabbers skin on his, and he wasn't about to embarrass himself by bringing it up if it was nothing, so he pretended he hadn't noticed.

Jabber happily bit into his Zanka's meal, and hummed as he chewed.

"Honestly," He said, food still in his mouth, "not as bad as last time."

Zanka hadn't tried a bite yet, but weirdly found himself agreeing anyway as he watched him.

No, somehow it really wasn't.

Chapter Text

The first thing Zanka noticed upon waking up was that the pain in his head was near completely gone, and his thoughts were much easier to hold on to. The second thing he noticed was a finger on his face, finishing what seemed to be a slow circle around his eye before tracing a small line over the bridge of his nose. When the finger moved down to draw a line on the area above his lip, he struck, shooting forward and giving it a harsh bite as he opened his eyes. He faintly tasted blood.

Jabber yelped in surprise, pulling his hand back purely on instinct for just a moment, before laughing and keeping them on Zanka's side, elbows threaded through the bars. 

"Heyy, mornin Zanka, took you long enough to wake up! Would've thought you'd be an 'up with the sun' kinda guy, it normal for you to sleep in this much?" 

Zanka must have fallen asleep way too close to the dividing line between their cells, a mistake he wouldn't make again. All things considered though, Jabber probably could've done worse than just touching his face, even if it was fucking creepy. He raised a hand to the area of his eye where he'd felt Jabbers fingers and was surprised to find it slightly tacky. He moved across to the other eye, and when felt another circle he immediately realized what had happened. He felt a vein bulge in this forehead.

"Oh for- what are ya, twelve?!" 

The sight of Zanka, with drawn on glasses and half a mustache sending him a death glare was apparently too much for Jabber, sending him into absolute hysterics as he doubled over, tears in his eyes as he laughed. 

Zanka wet a corner of his sleeve and started wiping away the drawing, unsurprised when it turned the fabric slightly red. Jabber was just getting done with his laughing fit, wiping a final tear from his eye, and Zanka noticed an area near his left wrist where the skin had been bit into enough to draw blood. Must be where Jabber had gotten his fingerpainting supplies. 

"Hoo, okay. Man!" Jabber breathed, composing himself. "You shoulda seen your face. It's too bad you're undoing all my hard work so fast, the glasses kinda suited you. Don't ever grow a mustache though." He snickered.

"I think I'd hate to see either on you." Zanka bit back.

"Aww, you saying you like the way I look right now better?"

"I'm sayin ya don't need to make yourself look any worse, you're good on that front. Trust me." Zanka parried sardonically, and it made Jabber laugh again. 

Slowly, it was getting easier to talk to him. In a way it felt a lot like their battles, Jabber starting with an inherent upper hand that Zanka had to adapt to quickly, learning his traps and strategies. How to avoid them, and how to hit back. Almost like a dance. 

...

After a while, the guards came from the right side again, once more carrying a single tray of food. It was good to know that Jabbers 24 hours weren't up, since it meant they were getting at least 2 meals per day, probably at regular or mostly-regular intervals. The usual routine followed; zanka moved to the wall, the tray got placed, the door got re-locked. 

It seemed today's meal was back to two bowls, one of which contained various steamed vegetables while the other held some sort of porridge. Still no utensils. He dipped a finger in the porridge and tried it. Not only was it aggressively room temperature, but it was also entirely bland and flavorless. yum. Switching to the vegetables, he picked up a piece of what was probably some sort of squash. It was also completely unseasoned, but better than the porridge by default since at least it had *some* flavor. 

He wondered how he was gonna share the porridge with Jabber and the memory of how he'd behaved with the soup came to mind and immediately killed any desire to pursue that further. Actually, why was he even sharing his food to behind with? If the roles were reversed there was no way Jabber would do it for him. But now that he'd started, Jabber would probably make a big deal of it if he stopped. Plus, he could always use it as leverage or revenge if he needed to. He might not be able to hit him without giving him what he wanted, but he doubted it would be the last time Jabber got his food privileges revoked, and he could always take the opportunity to hold it over Jabber's head when he inevitably did. It was both strategic and the path of least resistance, at least for now. 

He gave him a few of the more bitter vegetables and let him finish off the water after Zanka drank what he needed. 

Then, Zanka sat waiting for the guards. They'd come in around this time yesterday to take Jabber, and it stood to reason they'd do the same today. But for as long as he waited, nothing happened. Maybe they were giving them a rest day after running all their "calibrations".

It seemed too good to be true, and even if it was, it definitely didn't move them from the very top of Zanka's shitlist, a place normally reserved for Jabber, and occasionally Rudo (a certain memory of being chased through an alley with a plunger came to mind).

He looked over at Jabber, who was laying on his back with his legs up on the bars that separated them, humming a tune Zanka didn't recognize as he cracked his knuckles. And his wrists. And his neck. Each pop louder than the last. Zanka just watched. 

For as much as he hated him, Jabber wasn't actually unattractive, and if he'd been anyone else there was a chance Zanka might have even found him good looking. As it was though, his insane personality and sadomasochist tendencies cancelled that out pretty well. Still, in moments when he actually managed to shut up and didn't look like he actively wanted to eat Zanka alive, he could appreciate the sharpness of his jawline, the curve of his throat and adams apple, his long locs, his deft and skilled fingers, his absurdly long eyelashes and dark, almost red, eyes. The way-

"You gonna tell me what you're thinkin so hard about about, or just keep staring? I'll get self conscious."

He'd never been so glad to have Jabber interrupt his train of thought. That was getting dangerous. 

"Just thinkin about how bad I'm gonna pummel ya the next time we fight." 

Jabber lit up at that, tilting his head to look over at him from his place on the floor. "Zanka my dear friend, why wait? We don't have to let some bars stop us."

Yeah he'd definitely made a mistake saying that. "Not gonna happen. We got enough to deal with as is." 

"I think you just love getting me all riled up for nothing." Whined Jabber. "You really are a sadist, y'know that?" 

Zanka just rolled his eyes. "Oh please. As if ya wouldn't absolutely love it if I was."

"Trust me, I do. I'm just curious how long you're gonna keep denying your true nature. Pretending we're not perfect for each other." 

Not this again. 

"I think all the poison's gotten to yer brain, you're delusional." 

"Eh, pot in kettle." He said, waving a hand in the air. "Or whatever the saying is." 

"Not even close."

...

His suspicion about them not being taken into the lab that day had somehow been correct, a fact that was later confirmed when the guards came around the corner with dinner. And with two trays again, good. 

They'd spent the day playing would you rather (with some truly heinous questions from Jabber), and then tic tac toe with pebbles and a grid they scratched into the floor between their cells. Jabber had made a comment about how hopefully the next two inmates could appreciate it, and it had made Zanka snort despite himself. The time had passed surprisingly fast, or maybe the feeding schedule just wasn't as regular as he'd hoped. 

Jabber almost looked like he wanted to try his luck again when the guards told him to move, and Zanka shot him a look that he hoped registered as "If you do that shit again you're on your own this time", and clearly something translated across because he rolled his eyes and moved to the back wall as he huffed, complaining the whole time. 

They left around the right corner again and Zanka listened as they did, trying to see if he could get an idea about the composition of the hallway by sound alone. He strained to hear fading footsteps and a push door opening, sound muffled completely once it closed. It wasn't much, but it meant they probably didn't have the same level of security on the close end of the corridor as they did on the far one. Meaning it probably wasn't also a lab. Not to mention every time they brought food they came from the right side, so that was probably where the kitchens were. If he could get out somehow and get over to the kitchen area, maybe he could get something to defend himself with. 

There were still a couple glaring issues though, namely his collar and the fact that he had no idea how to actually get out, or even where to go after he secured a weapon. He never saw the guards just pass by when they weren't delivering something or taking one of them, but sometimes they'd come from the right side and sometimes from the left, so there must be another hallway connecting the two. The place was a maze and he needed more info. Or he needed to be really lucky, but so far it seemed lady luck wasn't his biggest fan so he'd prefer not to stake his life on her favor. He was always better at relying on himself anyway.

...

Their break didn't extend further than the one day, something Zanka hadn't allowed himself to hope for but was disappointing nonetheless.

They walked off with a sedated Jabber and Zanka started picking at his nailbeds while he counted the minutes until it was his turn.

When they came back with Jabbers body he already knew what to expect, and let himself be handcuffed and walked out of the cell without issue. It seemed as long as he complied, they didn't use the electricity or tranquilizer, though they didn't want to take that risk for Jabber. While a part of him was a bit bitter that they considered Jabber a bigger threat, he'd be lying if he said he didn't also get it. 

Once behind the keycard door and in the hallways of the lab he looked around at the doors for anything useful. They were labeled in a way that meant nothing to him, acronyms and numbers he was sure he could figure out if he just had more time, but he didn't. 

To his surprise, they didn't take him to the same room. Instead, they took a right instead of the last left and went to the door at the end of the hall. 

Upon the door opening, he noticed it was similar to the first room, except bigger, and with the notable addition of a large floor-to-ceiling wall made of a thick acrylic dividing the room neatly into the more traditional lab area and the smaller torture room. Cute. 

The chair was the same, though pointed at the left wall instead of the lab this time, and behind it was a tall machine with lots of wires and tubes that seemed to connect through a hole in the acrylic wall over to the lab area.

They took him into the contained area and he still struggled a bit when they brought him to the chair, mostly for the sake of his own pride. As he tried to wriggle out of their grip part of him wondered why they didn't just electrocute him, and then he suddenly remembered that humans were very conductive. His lightbulb moment made him pause long enough for them to secure him in, but he didn't mind with the info he'd just gotten. They couldn't zap him while he was touching someone else. Meaning he could maybe get a hostage without even having a weapon.

He expected the guards to leave, but instead they just set up against the back wall of the lab area and said something into their chokers. He didn't hear anything. Seemed like the room was soundproofed, then. 

The door opened and in came the same two scientists, the old man still with that relaxed, friendly look on his face as he waved to Zanka and said something he assumed was a greeting. 

Zanka raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow and the man seemed somewhat embarrassed, moving over to an area on the benchtop to press a button that made sound crackle out of an intercom somewhere above Zanka.

"Sorry about that, force of habit. I take it you can hear us alright?" 

He expression didn't change as he raised a middle finger in response, glad his left hand had been secured palm up for some reason. 

Blow dart guy made a movement that was either stifling a laugh or clearing his throat, the lack of sound making it hard to tell the difference. He could not get a read on that guy. 

"I'll take that as a yes." The man said agreeably and moved his hand off the intercom as he continued to say something to the others that Zanka couldn't hear. In response, the shorter guard nodded and left the room while blow dart guy walked over to the area Zanka was in and opened the door, which was unfortunately located behind where his chair faced instead of in front of it, and got to work.

He started to connect things from the machine to his collar and arms. It was killing him that he couldn't turn his head to look. Even looking left at the lab area was a strain on his eyes he couldn't keep up for too long. 

Once finished with the wires, the man came around on his left and stood just in his peripheral vision. They sized each other up for a moment before the man, still with a hint of that strange accent, simply said "Spit on me and I won't flush the toxin from your system." and walked forward to pull on his hand, testing the extent of its mobility while shackled, which wasn't much. Zanka was really tempted to do it anyway, but he was playing the long game, and decided it probably was better to behave himself for now. Especially in front of the guards. 

The guy seemed satisfied and left, a vaguely smug energy about him from getting Zanka to behave. He just needed to stay composed. 

The outside door opened again and all thoughts of composure left Zanka's mind immediately as he saw the shorter guard holding Lovely Assistaff. 

He thrashed, all logical thought forgotten, moving like a man possessed as he tried to break out of his bindings with sheer strength and force of will. He needed to get to her, he needed to get that guards filthy hands off her. 

The old man looked delighted as he started writing in his notebook, mumbling something as he went.

Zanka panted, each futile movement pressing against what he already knew would become bruises, and tried to calm himself down. So much for playing his cards close to his chest. 

The intercom crackled again.

"So, G012-b, On a scale of one to ten, how deep would you say your bond is with your vital instrument?" 

Zanka just glared. He was done playing nice, and unless the man was gonna tell him step by step instructions on how to break out of the facility, he was sure he had no information worth "trading". 

"Based on your reaction I'd guess it's rather high, but it really would help us to get a number, even if its subjective." 

When Zanka escaped he was making a pit stop to kill this guy. Hopefully with Assistaff.

"Well, no matter. Let's begin then, I'll explain as we go."

A familiar, burning pain started spreading from the back of his neck through his veins.

"Today we'll be testing your endurance with your instrument, seeing at what pain threshold your body releases it."

Wait, did that mean they were going to let him-

The door behind him opened, and from behind, someone –one of the guards, presumably– pushed the head of Lovely Assistaff up to his open left hand, still holding on to the bottom. 

The instant his hand closed around her he could feel her soul thrumming, and he felt his own soul resonate with it as he took the chance to transform her from wood into her signature sleek blue metal. There had to be some way he could use this to his advantage. He wished he could swing her, or move her at all more than a few inches, but he was well restrained, and even her spikes wouldn't help if he wasn't facing the enemy. 

"Excellent! Just beautiful. Now, please keep it transformed for as long as you can stand it."

Then, the guard started to pull her away, out of his grip. 

"I understand you might be tempted to tap out of this one early, but getting accurate results is very important to us, so as an insurance method, we're going to hang on to it. I'm sure you're aware your staff is much more...vulnerable in its untransformed state."

He tried to hold on, tried to keep his grip solid with everything he had in him, but he had no leverage, and the guard was too strong. And far too soon, Lovely Assistaff was ripped from his hand.

"But that's the great thing about vital instruments! They can be made from trash and things falling apart at the seams but when they're activated they become near invulnerable!"

They had Assistaff in the lab now, metal and glowing. His eyes widened when he saw a bunson burner, lit and sitting on the bench. 

"It's simple, as long as you keep your instrument in its transformed state this fire will do nothing more than heat up the metal. I promise it won't get anywhere near melting, and should have no lasting effect on it. But if you try to skew our results or end this trial early by deactivating it, well. I imagine the wood won't fare quite the same."

He opened his mouth to scream at them, soundproof wall be damned, before an increase in pain reminded him he still had poison in his system, and it was getting worse.

"When I get outta here," He grit out, jaw clenched, "yer all dead. Every one of you. And I," He had to focus, he had to keep his eyes on them. "I am going to make it hurt."

The older scientist just smiled, and continued to write his notes.

They didn't want him to mess up their "results" by quitting early? Fine. He'd mess up their results by being an outlier then. He'd blow their god damn test out of the water, and he'd keep Lovely Assistaff activated so long that the data made no sense and became functionally useless. It was just a little pain, that was nothing to someone like him. He'd show them. 

...

...He'd done it. He was hazy, and his entire body was trembling, and he had no idea how long it had been but the flame was gone and Lovely Assistaff remained. Still metal, still transformed. He couldn't release. He heard the intercom again and it sounded like a foreign language. He kept his eyes looking to the left, looking at Assistaff in all her glory. 

There was an exchange of words behind the glass and suddenly he was exhausted, familiar numbness locking his tongue and weighing down his eyelids. He didn't have the strength to fight it and just let himself go, trying to get one last glimpse of Lovely Assistaff before he did, trying to mentally send her his love and gratitude for withstanding it with him.. They'd teach them...to not underestimate....the power....of an average joe.........

...

For once, Zanka woke up to a tranquil silence, and was immediately unnerved because of it. Looking over –ignoring the headache that pulsed when he moved his eyes to the side– he saw that it was because Jabber was still asleep. He worried about the implications of that for a moment before realizing he was in a completely different area and position from when the guards had dropped him, so at some point he'd woken up and simply decided to knock out again. Or something had happened with the guards when they'd brought Zanka back. He wouldn't put it past him. Or them. 

Zanka stretched out all his limbs, and took inventory of his body. The areas where the cuffs locked were still sore from his thrashing, and when he moved his eyes to the side his head briefly pulsed with pain, but other than that and a dry throat he seemed alright. 

Jabber was sleeping on his back, head tilted to the side and one leg bent. His left hand had ridden up his undershirt, palm splayed out across his now partially visible stomach. 

For some reason, Zanka felt himself filled with curiosity and moved silently towards the bars to get a better look. The skin on his stomach looked surprisingly soft, and the area only had a few small scars, most of which he'd be willing to bet were self-inflicted. It was no easy feat to land a hit on Jabber. The wrap around his waist seemed to sit lower than usual, and Zanka could see one of his hip bones and the deep V of his pelvis. He felt the tips of his ears burn as he sharply moved his traitorous eyes up towards Jabbers face before they could drift any lower. 

Looking at Jabber's sleeping face wasn't much better. His locs fanned around him like sunbeams. His lips were parted and his mouth was slightly open, and with his eyes closed and face relaxed he looked peaceful, a descriptor that was so completely at odds with everything Jabber represented that it would have been funny if it weren't so strangely captivating. 

Zanka had to get a grip. What was he doing?? He should be taking advantage of any time he had without Jabber assaulting his senses to be planning his escape, not sitting there ogling his enemy like a creep. He couldn't even blame it on the concussion anymore. It was an issue of pure willpower, which stung even more because his will was all he had, but his brain (and body) apparently seemed intent on betraying him at every available opportunity when Jabber was involved. 

He took a few deep breaths to center himself, and was grateful for the small mercy that Jabber hadn't woken up, or god forbid been faking sleep to catch Zanka's reaction. He just needed to get himself under control. He was better than this. It was just because of the situation they were in, that was all. He could beat whatever stupid stockholm-syndrome-esque nonsense was affecting his psyche (he resolutely ignored the part of his brain that reminded him stockholm syndrome was only for captors, and also that this particular issue had extended since before they'd been taken) and go back to feeling disgusted and angry at the sight of Jabber and nothing else. He just needed to lock in. He could do that. He was in control of his own mind, and he'd prove it. This couldn't be any harder than what he'd just done in the lab.

...

When Jabber finally woke up he did so with a large yawn and stretch that displayed even more of his lower pelvis area, the removal of his hand revealing the start of a dark happy trail- DAMNIT. He seriously needed to slam his head into the wall. Over and over again.

Jabber sat up slowly and wiped a thin line of drool from the corner of his mouth, eyes still mostly closed and looking like he could fall back asleep at any moment. He sleepily scanned his surroundings, and like a compass finding north, he turned towards Zanka.

"Oh hey, when'd you get here?" His voice was still raspy from sleep and Zanka had absolutely no feelings about it whatsoever. 

"I've been here, you've just been sleeping the whole damn time."

"Oh shit, my bad. How long was I out?"

"Hell if I know. You were out when I woke up, and its probably almost dinner by now."

Jabber hummed, rubbing his eyes before smiling that signature cheshire grin. "You sound kinda butthurt about it, did'ja miss talkin to me?" 

"Just annoyed you woke up, I thought maybe they'd done me a favor and killed ya for good." 

Jabber hummed again, pleased, and stretched his arms above his head, causing a litany of pops from his shoulders and back –seriously, that could *not* be healthy– before finally opening his eyes more than a sliver and looking at Zanka with his regular, hungry look. The return to form was honestly comforting. 

"Nah, they couldn't kill me if they tried. They're so weak they won't even unlock the door without those remotes. And besides, you know I'm saving that honor for you." 

...

Apparently the previous days schedule was now the blueprint for all the following ones, and they began to settle into something of a routine. Wake up, eat, get dragged off for experiments, wake up again, talk argue, eat again, sleep. Rinse and repeat. The days blended together and through it all, shockingly, Jabber's presence helped him stay sane. He was infuriating, and a complete freak, and other than the threat to Mankira he didn't seem concerned at all with the torture-disguised-as-science that was being enacted on them. But even so, it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if some of the stuff that came out of Jabbers mouth made him want to throttle him, and of all the emotions that threatened to suffocate Zanka when he sat and thought too hard for too long, anger was easiest to deal with. It took an embarrassing number of times where Jabber ragebaited him out of a negative thought spiral before he started to wonder if he was doing it on purpose. 

...

Who woke up first on any given day was something of a tossup at first, but Zanka quickly settled back into what he assumed was his normal circadian rhythm of waking up around dawn, meaning on most days he'd get to wake up in peace instead of being hounded by Jabber. On one such day he remembered he still had the shoe Jabber had thrown at him to wake him up, and decided to return the favor. Part of him lamented giving Jabber his ammo back, but the sound he'd made when Zanka had absolutely beamed his half-sleeping form with it made it well worth it. Unfortunately, it had started a slow sort of game between the two of them where they'd try to throw said shoe through the bars as hard as they could to hit the other person when they weren't paying attention. It was hard to line it up with the bars with enough speed and easy enough to dodge when you could see it coming, so biding their time and waiting to catch the other off guard was key. It shouldn't have been fun, and it probably only was because he was so starved for anything interesting to do, but he found himself enjoying it regardless –not that he'd ever let Jabber know that– and was glad to get up early knowing it gave him the upper hand. 

However, it also meant his body wanted to fall asleep earlier, something Jabber seemed loathe to let him do. Whenever he started to nod off during one of their conversations or games Jabber made it a point to try and keep him awake by any means necessary, including getting him with the shoe a couple times. They'd decided no throwing it while someone was fully sleeping, since that negated the point of having to be stealthy, but half-asleep was fair game. Once, Zanka had caught it out of the air and immediately sent it back towards Jabbers face. He'd caused a nice goose egg on jabbers upper forehead that paired terribly with his disgustingly lovestruck expression.

...

The experiments on their vital instruments continued, though what they were testing seemed to change day by day. Sometimes it was transformation limit, other times it seemed they were testing his activation speed. For some reason they seemed really interested in the idea of remote activation, or even just activation without direct skin contact, but as hard as they tried, nothing ever came from those tests, and they usually ended up pivoting to something else for the day. One time, they'd tried to bring in an exact replica of Lovely Assistaff, probably to see if he could activate it just by believing it was his instrument. The test ended up being a bust for them anyway because the second he laid eyes on it he knew it wasn't his treasure. It was honestly insulting more than anything, and the choice words he'd had for them because of it definitely resulted in a rougher than usual poison run to "retest his endurance benchmark." 

...

He woke up gasping sometimes, not sure whether he was in the cell or the lab. Nightmares were much harder to dismiss when they were indistinguishable from real life, and sometimes he worried he'd lose track of what had really happened to him and what his unconscious mind had made up. He was glad Jabber was such a heavy sleeper, as sometimes he just needed to curl in a ball and get his hands to stop shaking, and the idea of Jabber catching him in such a state was mortifying. 

It was worse when he had nightmares about the cleaners. It started with his team being captured, being subject to the same torment he was because of Zanka's negligence. He heard their screams in the chair and agreed with every word they said when they blamed him for it. But worse still were the dreams where they'd find him, where they'd break in with guns blazing only to find Zanka in the cell, pathetic and mentally beaten down and entirely uninjured, having not gone for even a single escape attempt. The ones where they'd laugh at him and leave him there, not wanting to bring dead weight back on their team, no matter how much he begged and pleaded as he tried to force himself through the bars, reaching desperately for their backs as they left him behind.

Those were by far the worst. 

Still though, the human brain really could get used to anything, and after a maybe a week and a half, the sleep deprivation, arguments, and daily torture were almost mundane. He didn't lose sight of his goal, though.

After the first week, he'd had to come to terms with the fact that no one was coming to save them. Not from the Cleaners or Raiders. So he'd need to do it himself. He'd been slowly gathering information, making a plan. There were still quite a few unknowns, but he had the base of something that could work. He just needed the right opportunity to strike, and he knew how to create it. 

By the end of the week, he'd be out of there or die trying. 

Chapter Text

Two –maybe three? He wasn't sure anymore. He'd call it two and a half– weeks was a long time when there wasn't much else to do but gather information and plan.

The guards and scientists were careful, but Zanka had always been good at observing, good at finding any slight detail or misstep that he could use to give himself the upper hand. It was a necessary tool for the average like him, and something that allowed him to turn the tides even on a stronger or more gifted opponent. Here, he'd use it to swing the odds back in his favor. It had been worth it to stay mostly quiet, to bide his time and make himself seem like less of a threat. Clearly, they'd let their guard down. And he'd make them regret it.

He mentally compiled all the info he'd gleaned so far:
-The kitchens were somewhere to his right, and definitely contained knives.
-There was at least one unlocked door in the direction of the kitchen, that would be his best bet.
-The guards couldn't electrocute him while he was in physical contact with someone else, unless they wanted to shock them too.
-The labs and the right side were connected by another hallway.
-Lovely Assistaff was being held somewhere within a 3 minute walk of the lab room they always took him to. 
-The shorter guard always seemed to be the one to interact with him physically, and opposite for Jabber.
-The shorter guard kept the lanyard with the keycard and handcuff keys in their right pocket, while the taller wore it tucked into their shirt.
-The guards wouldn't handcuff him to bring him back to the cell if he was passed out, and there was always a moment when one had to let go to unlock and open the cell door.
-They only ever used the remotes when they were in the same room, meaning there was a large chance they could be blocked by a wall or door.
-The keycards seemingly unlocked all electronic doors, if he could get one it would probably unlock his collar as well.

It allowed him to create the base of a solid plan. The only big obstacle left was the tranquilizer stored in his collar. Putting aside the fact that he needed to be awake on the walk back to his cell for his plan to work, getting a hostage would probably be his best bet for finding the exit given how labyrinthine the entire place seemed, and even if they couldn't shock him they could still just put him to sleep without consequence. 

Luckily, the solution for that presented itself one day in the lab when the old man had casually let it slip that the potency of the tranquilizer degraded over time while talking –mostly to himself– about how they'd need to refill his collar soon. The man's fatal flaw truly was how much he loved to talk about his "work". And Zanka was more than willing to take advantage of it.

Even without the information, he could tell that the chemicals typically used to end their sessions were losing their kick. Over the last week especially he'd been able to fight it longer and longer, though made sure each time to make it look like he was passing out just as fast as usual. 

He needed to find the balance between waiting until the tranquilizer was weak enough that he could stay awake as long as he needed to get out, but not so long that they'd refill his supply and he'd be back at square one. It helped that unlike Jabber, they weren't dosing him at pickup as well. Still, he probably only had a handful of days left to make his move.

He knew it was time when he managed to stay awake all the way back to the cell, albeit hazy and disoriented. A problem that was only exacerbated by making sure his eyes stayed closed and body limp like a ragdoll. If they didn't refill it the next day he'd be able to put his plan into action. 

...

He thought occasionally about getting Jabber involved, but only briefly. While it was true he was a strong fighter, he was just too much of a wildcard to really consider it. He couldn't trust that Jabber wouldn't waste time trying to seek out fights with the guards or anyone else in the building once free. Or with Zanka. 

Plus, his plan relied on being able to get out of range of the remotes as quickly as possible, and it would be practically impossible to free Jabber and do that. 

Part of him felt guilty about the idea of leaving Jabber behind, but he quickly squashed it. Jabber had tried to kill him or leave him for dead numerous times, he was simply returning the favor. He only felt guilt because of their temporary alliance.  But that's all it was. Temporary. Whatever fragile truce they'd built was fickle, and whatever bond they had was based solely on their forced proximity. Once they got out all bets would be off. 

...Maybe once he got out he'd find some way to tell the raiders where he was so they could come deal with him. Except that would be actively helping the enemy regain a powerful fighter, he'd have no way to explain that. Maybe he'd inform the Hell Guard. The idea sent a familiar pang of panic through him, both at the idea of having to contact his family and the knowledge that whatever they'd do to Jabber would likely be even worse than what he was enduring here. The Cleaners then? Maybe he could convince them to raid the place and shut down whatever the organization was.  And when they found Jabber surely they'd want to take him for interrogation. Though they'd probably end up letting the Hell Guard have him anyway. 

He'd figure out what to do with Jabber later, for now he just needed to get out first. 

...

The next day came, and with it came the usual trials. It was hard to really pay attention to anything though, too busy waiting for the sedative, wondering obsessively if he'd managed to plan and time everything correctly. He'd only get one chance.

When the experiment was finally over and he felt the familiar feeling wash over him lightly, he could have cried with relief.

It had been the right move to wait another day, the tranquilizer wasn't weak enough to be entirely negligible, but it was weak enough that he could stay awake without much trouble. Not that he'd let them know that.

It was go time.

He relaxed his body, taking slower breaths, trying to lower his heartrate. The tranquilizer, dull as it was, helped on that account at least. 

Steady, slow breaths at a constant rate. That was the key. 

He was completely limp, eyes closed, and made sure not to react at all to the sound of the door opening and people coming in. He waited, and even after they disconnected him from the machine and undid his restraints he waited still. 

Two pairs of arms grabbed his biceps and hoisted him upwards. He remained completely limp even as the position tugged painfully at his shoulders. 

He felt them drag him out of the room and along the now-familiar series of turns, only in reverse. They paused to scan the keycard, and then he could tell by the musty smell alone that they were back in the original corridor of cells. Almost there. Almost time. 

They marched his body down the hallway, and when the guard on his right –hopefully the taller guard, or he was in big trouble– let go to unlock and open the cell, Zanka struck.

He opened his eyes and planted his feet under him in one motion, ramming his body to the left and into the unsuspecting guard still holding him, knocking them off balance while at the same time he made a grab at their right pocket. It seemed lady luck didn't hate him entirely because it was infact the shorter guard who had been left holding him, and his fingers closed around a long lanyard cord.

The continued momentum sent the guard crashing to the floor, and Zanka almost landed on top of him, just barely managing to save himself from stumbling over them as he tore his arm free and broke into a run. Dual sounds of alarm from the guards and a disbelieving shriek of laughter from Jabber echoed behind him but he paid them no mind, too busy sprinting like his life depended on it. Probably because it did. 

He rounded the corner, almost clipping it with his hip, and a gunshot rang out into the wall where he'd just been. He crashed through the push doors, now fully in uncharted territory, and was met with the choice of another hallway to the left or a set of double doors straight ahead. Luckily, the double doors had windows and he could see what looked to be the kitchen through them. 

He burst through them, and immediately scanned his surroundings. There was a bucket and mop next to the door, and he quickly shoved the long wooden handle of the mop through the vertical door handles before he tied them together sloppily with a rag, creating a makeshift barricade. It wouldn't hold for long, but hopefully it would hold long enough for him to arm himself and get the collar off.

The kitchen was medium sized, a bit bigger than what they had at Cleaner HQ and surprisingly well maintained. Looking around frantically, he saw a knife block on the other side of the kitchen and beelined for it. 

The door he'd barricaded started to slam with heavy hits, somehow even louder than the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears, but his luck was holding for now. The lack of electricity probably meant that he'd been right about the remotes, and even among all the adrenaline he felt a tiny swell of smug pride.

He grabbed the biggest chef's knife he could find and tried to figure out his next move. He needed to get the collar off first and foremost, and he brought the lanyard with the keycard up to it to unlock it.

Nothing happened.

He moved it around all over the collar, trying to get it to click and unlock the way it did with the doors. Maybe he had to stick it in somewhere? He felt around desperately for some sort of slit or divet to swipe, but there was only a small, cylindrical extrusion on the back and more tiny round ports. Fuck. Fuck.

The banging got louder. He needed to go, collar be damned. He ran out of the back entrance to the kitchen and immediately collided with someone, sending them both sprawling to the ground. 

He scrambled for his knife, grabbing it and putting it in between him and the other person. 

It was a girl, probably not much older than him, with slim glasses –now askew– and long, dark grey hair tied into a high ponytail. She looked as surprised as he felt, and then she seemed to notice the knife, surprise quickly morphing into fear. 

For just a moment, he paused. She was wearing a uniform with the same insignia as the people in the labs, and she'd clearly been on her way to the kitchen, but there was still a chance she didn't know the full extent what was going on. 

In the academy he'd had to learn quickly how to size people up with a single glance, and he could tell with certainty that she was no physical threat, not to mention that she was clearly terrified of Zanka. He imagined he made a pretty scary sight, dirty and sweaty and waving around a knife with wild eyes. 

His moment of hesitation was punished by her activating her choker, yelling.

"Subject has bre-!"

Zanka punched her in the throat. 

Hostage route it was then. It was no effort at all to wrestle himself behind her and put his knife to her throat, right above her choker.

"Listen very closely, ya better answer or you'll be dead before anyone can get here. Where's the exit. How do I get back up to the surface." 

She just trembled, breaths coming in quick bursts. He pressed the knife in further, until there was a thin seam of red beading up.

"Now. I'm serious." He growled, and his voice sounded foreign to him.

At that she swallowed, and finally spoke with a shaky voice.

"T-there's two elevators, one in sector A and one in sector D, b-but you need a keycard for both and-"

"Where the hell are sectors A and D?"

"Sector A is the dormitories and sector D is on the left side of the labs just pleasedonthurtme-"

He heard the sound of wood splintering, and a giant crash. Shit. He was out of time.

"Get up! Move! You're taking me to whichever one's closer." 

They didn't get the chance to run more than around twenty feet before the doors crashed open once more and in came the two guards, guns drawn and looking absolutely livid. Zanka pulled the girl in front of him as a shield, knife still at her throat. 

No one moved. A stalemate. Zanka cleared his throat.

"Listen. Just let me go and I won-"

Apparently his luck had run out, since the next thing he experienced was the familiar hot-white pain of electricity, causing him to choke out a pained groan and the girl he was holding to scream as they both seized up and collapsed to the floor.

No. He'd been so close. 

He pushed himself up on his elbows, muscles screaming, as the sound of heavy boots got closer.

No, not yet. Not like this.

With a final surge of strength, he pushed himself onto his feet and surged onward down the hall away from the guards, slamming partially into the wall as he went but staying mostly upright. He'd dropped the knife but maybe if he could just round a corner, maybe-

Another gunshot rang out and this one did connect, sending a piercing, searing pain all the way through his left shoulder, and he crashed face first onto the ground. The impact only made the wound hurt worse and he was delirious with pain. He could feel the blood pooling around his shoulder, soaking through the front of his uniform. 

The footfalls of heavy boots came near his head once more and in his final moments of consciousness he hoped his blood at least made one of them slip and fall. Then he blacked out entirely. 

...

Zanka woke up hazy, and in bursts. If he had the wherewithal to think properly he'd probably be surprised to wake up at all, but as it was all he could do was barely grasp consciousness as the world drifted around him, coming and going in strange puzzle pieces that made no sense. Being dragged down a hallway backwards by his collar....faded voices coming in and out...."-re trouble than he's w-"........"not finished wi-".......being shoved onto some sort of table......the feel of liquid being sprayed and an intense stinging where it touched......"-ood loss if we don-".....and then another, hotter, more intense and concentrated pain worse than anything he'd experienced so far....the sound of someone screaming and crying, only pausing when he inhaled, air like glass in his throat...."-ject asks for 'Kyouka', likel-"....at some point Lovely Assistaff was there, but then he blinked and she was gone........everything hurt, and then finally the darkness seemed to take him for real.

...

When he woke up in the cell he felt dead. Like a living corpse, soul not permitted to pass through to whatever was beyond, cursed to lay paralyzed and rot for eternity. It was quiet, and the irregular drip of the ceiling threatened to drive him insane. It probably would if he had the energy. He opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling, and just wondered why he was still alive. 

He'd failed. His big plan, his last ditch effort. And it had failed. 

He just laid there, numbness overtaking everything. And then loathing. Of course it hadn't worked. Of course he was still trapped here. Of course even his best hadn't been enough. Damnit. He'd been so close. Always so close.  

He brought his right hand up to his shoulder. Through a hole he could feel that underneath the fabric of his uniform were white bandages. They seemed to wrap around his torso and neck too, but likely only to keep the main ones in place. 

He wondered again why they'd kept him alive. But it wasn't really a question. He wasn't a threat anymore –they'd been able to prove they could neutralize him pretty effectively, and the same trick wouldn't work twice– and, more importantly, they probably still needed to finish up their experiments. 

It reminded him of his first day in the lab, of them zapping him awake, not letting him pass out from the pain. He wondered how many times they'd fix him up, how long they'd keep him there, not letting him die. 

Something came over him at that thought, a different kind of anger and fear. Being trapped was one thing, being experimented on was one thing, hell, even the idea of them killing him was awful but par for the course. But the idea of them doing the opposite, forcing him to stay alive for who knew how long? That was worse. And if they expected him to just sit pretty and let them heal him just so they could keep using him, they were dead wrong.

He pulled back the bandages, ignoring the aching pain still lancing through his shoulder. He was no ones pet, he was no ones plaything, and they didn't get to decide when he was done living. 

He finally reached skin and instead of stitches to yank out he felt only tough, thick, warped skin that stung intensely with every touch.

The feel of it snapped him out of it and he ripped his hand away. What was he doing?? 

He took a moment to just breathe, and he noticed his whole body was barely trembling. What the hell, he hadn't seriously been about to- no. Of course he hadn't. He hadn't. 

He'd just needed to remind himself that he could. If he needed to.

He did his best to smooth the bandages back out, fingers moving against his own wound almost apologetically. He'd almost done something really stupid. 

He suddenly remembered he wasn't alone, and in a panic looked over towards Jabber's cell. Luckily, a barely moving lump right next to the bars confirmed he was there and asleep, and Zanka was grateful for it. It was probably night then, the only question was how far in. 

He looked back up at the ceiling. 

Usually he'd take this time to think about how to escape, but now the idea just stung. He couldn't handle it right now. 

Instead, he thought of the Cleaners, like he had on the first night. He wondered, not for the first time, what they thought had happened to him, and if they were still looking for him. He hoped that they were, almost as much as he hoped that they weren't. If they hadn't found him by now they likely never would; when blow dart guy took him he was probably smart enough to not leave behind any trail to follow. It was a fool's errand. But some selfish part inside him really hoped they were trying anyway. He hoped they missed him. 

He hoped Rudo was keeping along with his training, the brat had a fire in him that Zanka could begrudgingly respect, even if he was the type of natural talent Zanka resented. Rudo was trying to become a better person, and every day he was improving, both emotionally and with his vital instrument, progressing at a rate fitting of a genius. Still, without Zanka there he'd better not be slacking with his training or he'd pay for it on the battlefield, prodigy or not. Hopefully Enjin and Riyo were keeping him in line. Enjin and Riyo...how were they holding up? 

Honestly, those two were probably doing the same as ever. They'd managed just fine before Zanka got there, and it stood to reason they'd be the same after he left. He hoped Riyo was able to find someone else to be herself around though, he of all people knew how exhausting it was to wear a mask all the time. Maybe Rudo would fill his role in that regard, she seemed to have really taken a shine to him since he joined. Though part of him doubted Rudo had the social or emotional fluency to see past the fronts she put up, much less notice the things she herself tried to ignore, like how she tended to linger in the infirmary longer than anyone else and snag sweet drinks for their resident healer every time she got the chance. 

And then there was Enjin. He worried about him most of all. Zanka wasn't self-centered enough to think his disappearance would be the kind of thing to throw the older man off his game, but he knew it must have screwed a lot of things up for him logistically, and felt horribly guilty for it. He only hoped Enjin didn't think it had been a waste to take him in, even if he hadn't amounted to anything in the end. Even if he never had been able to prove that an average joe could rise above a genius. He was still eternally glad Enjin had found him in the well that day. Even if it had ended up with him here, he still wouldn't change anything. 

If they could see him now...

Probably best not to think about that. 

...

He didn't get any sleep, despite how exhausted he felt. He wasn't sure how many hours it had been before he heard Jabber start to stir beside him. 

Jabber always seemed slow to wake, movements sluggish and eyes squinted, and he tended to let out big, lasting yawns that reminded Zanka of a cat. 

Eventually he realized Zanka was there and that seemed to perk him up slightly. 

"Yoo, Zankaa. You watchin me sleep? Didn't know ya'were," He let out another large yawn. "didn'know you were into that." He said sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

Then it seemed he remembered what had happened yesterday and actually woke up, eyes fully open as he looked over Zanka. 

"Oh shit wait, you tried to make a run for it!" He cackled. "How far'd you get? Not gonna lie, I was lowkey surprised they brought you back in one piece, they seemed piiissed. So what'd you see? And how'd they catch you?"

Petulantly, a part of Zanka wanted to withold the information he'd hard won. What had Jabber said when Zanka had questioned him upon their arrival? "What do I get in return?"

....Yeah, actually nevermind. Not a chance he was opening that can of worms. 

"I got past the kitchen. Apparently theres two exits, and one's in the lab area."

"Huh. And the other?"

"The dormitories. Wherever that is. Probably further right."

Jabber hummed, then looked at him again with that shit-eating grin.

"If you knew where they were why didn't you just leave?" 

Zanka felt his eye twitch.

"Probably cause by the time I found out, they were right on my ass. I would've if I could." 

"Awww, you're tellin me you didn't stick around to save me too? That's cold." Jabber fake pouted.

"I get out and I don't have to see yer stupid face ever again? Sounds like a win-win to me." 

Jabber just played up the pouting, smile betraying his true feelings.

"C'monnn, you know you wouldn't just leave me here, I'd get so bored without you. I'd have to bust out all by myself just to hunt you down."

"Well if you could get out by yourself then I guess its not a problem I left ya, is it?" He replied sharply.

"It's about the principle of it, Zan-zan."

Zanka just huffed bitterly and tried to roll his eyes into the back of his head, not answering. He was happy enough to let the conversation about his humiliating attempt at escape end there. 

Though of course, Jabber, forever a heat-seeking missile towards things Zanka wanted to avoid, pressed onwards.

"Seriously though, you weren't even gonna let me know you were makin a break for it? I know we got our differences an' all but I can keep a secret. I even coulda helped." He said with a wink.

"I don't need yer help."

Jabber just laughed, unbothered. The constant sound of it was really starting to get on his nerves.

"Right, cause you did so well on your own. Guess I'm just imagining you sittin here talkin to me. Must be the poisons, right?"

"At least I tried something!" He snapped back. "At least I want to get out of here! For a guy who claims to be so bored all the time ya seem pretty damn complacent to me!" 

Jabber just shrugged. "I'm always bored. Plus I mean it's not too bad in here, all things considered. Some of the poisons are pretty interesting, and I'm learnin a lot about Mankira. Only thing I'm really missin is a good fight, and we could scratch that itch together if you'd just loosen up. I know you wanna."

"Ya don't know shit actually, the last thing I wanna do is get in some sloppy beatdown with you fer no good reason." 

"Man, why do you just keep lying all the time? Don't you ever get sick of it? I can see it in your eyes that you wanna beat the crap outta me, and I know you ain't scared of a little pain yourself, so whats the holdup?" Jabber said as he stood up, wrapping his arms lazily around the bars as he leaned on them and continued to talk.

"I mean we've been here for what, weeks? And other than that weak ass punch and the shoe throwing you haven't done shit, even though its obvious you wanna."

Zanka hated looking up at Jabber from the ground, and stood up to face him.

"Stop acting like ya know me, god you really piss me off."

"I do know you though. I told you before, with me, you're free. We're the same." 

Over the course of the conversation Zanka had gotten closer and closer to the bars. Even after noticing, he didn't back down. If anything, he got closer, getting up in Jabbers face.

"Let me get this through yer thick skull. I. Am nothing like you."

There was a tension now, strung taut and waiting to snap.

Jabber gave a *tsk tsk* that made a vein on Zanka's forehead twitch. "Ehh, you're kinda a shitty liar, especially when you look at me like that. You totally wanna punch me again. Go ahead, do it." He made a beckoning gesture with his hands and put his face right up to the bars. "C'mon, I'll even let you have the first hit."

He wanted to. He really wanted to. Even at this angle, if he did it right, he could probably hit Jabbers jaw with enough momentum to knock him out in one hit. Then he wouldn't have to listen to him anymore. But then he'd also be proving Jabber right. 

"We're the same"

Ha. That couldn't be further from the truth. Where Jabber had innate talent, Zanka had hard work. Where Jabber attacked indiscriminately, Zanka planned. Where Jabber let his impulses rule him, Zanka had self-control. Desires and inherent nature meant nothing, they could all be overcome with enough willpower. That was what really mattered.

Zanka let his shoulders drop, body untensing. 

He was different than Jabber because he chose to be different. And he'd make that choice as many times as he needed to, for the rest of his life. Even when it was hard. Even when it physically pained him to not send a fist straight over into Jabbers stupidly punchable face. 

He closed his eyes, breathing out. 

"I told ya, I'm not-"

Jabber's fist slammed into his cheekbone and he reeled back.

"Son of a BITCH!" 

"Oops." Grinned a clearly unapologetic Jabber.

He lunged forward, trying to hit Jabber back but missing slightly as Jabber tilted his head to the side, only clipping his ear. Zanka grabbed his shirt with the hand that had missed and didnt wait a second to send another punch with his other hand into Jabbers solar plexus, which was still pressed up against the bars. That one did connect, forcing a wheezing sound out of Jabber and filling Zanka with a sick sort of satisfaction, and with it began their brawl. 

It was hard to fight through the bars, on the rare occasions he had to fight unarmed Zanka preferred hook punches and sweeping kicks that mimicked how he fought with Assistaff instead of straightforward jabs, but there was no room for anything else. It was frustrating, the bars becoming an obstacle and a weapon at once as they pushed and pulled, punching and scratching and grabbing anything they could reach.

Zanka forgot how flexible Jabber was, as he ducked low to dodge a hit and used his grip on the bars to hold himself up as sent his heel directly into Zanka's knee, making him stumble as his right leg gave out on him.

"FUCK!" 

As he sprung back up he jabbed his fist forward, trying to re-break Jabbers nose, but he was too fast, leaning his head back so all Zanka's attack did was graze his chin. Zanka was fast too though, and instead he moved his hand down, grabbed the collar of his hood, and pulled towards him, causing Jabber to slam face first into the bars. Zanka tried to pull back and regroup but Jabber had taken advantage of the proximity, his own hand knotted in Zankas clothes keeping him locked in place, and Jabber used his other hand to grab at Zanka's left shoulder, digging his fingers into the still-healing bullet wound, ripping a scream from Zanka's throat as his vision temporarily whited out with pain. He grabbed both of Jabbers lapels, keeping him pinned to the bars and sent a high kick of his own directly into Jabbers kidneys, the pained "OOF" it pushed out only incentivizing him to do it again. And again. Jabber grabbed his leg and twisted him off balance, rushing forward to punch Zanka square in the face with his other hand. Zanka felt blood immediately start gushing from his nose but still didn't let go of Jabber, one hand keeping him in place as the other went for his face, sending an all-knuckle punch directly to Jabbers left eye, splitting the skin above it open. Before he could recover, Zanka stole Jabbers move and crouched down to fold in half and slam his heel forward through the bars, this time directly into Jabbers crotch, making Jabber keel over as breath left his lungs, along with an embarrassing noise. 

Zanka took the chance to actually take a step back and breathe, limping a bit as he did. Jabber was still hunched over on the ground, hands cupped over the area, breathing hard. Zanka could see small drops of blood falling onto the floor from the cut above his eye, and felt his own nose doing the same, probably dripping on his uniform. 

Jabber raised his head then, his curtain of hair parting as he locked in on Zanka with an even hungrier, desperate look. His pupils were blown wide, irises almost gone, and his face was flushed darker than Zanka had ever seen it. His breaths came out in pants, and his eyes started to go half-lidded as he ground against the heel of his palm. Absolutely disgusting. 

"Zanka," He breathed out, "Zanka," repeating his name like a prayer.

Red filled his vision and he marched right back over to the bars, feeling like he didn't have control of his body. He needed to break Jabbers ribs again, maybe that would get him to shut up. (He knew it wouldn't.)

"Stop sayin my name like that, ya freak. God, I really hate you." Zanka could feel his hands shaking. 

"Mmmm, yeah? Do- hahh, do something about it then, tough guy." Jabber managed in between pants, a particularly deep roll of his hips causing a delicious gasp to come out.

"Would you fucking- stop doing that!" 

The hand that wasn't currently on Jabbers dick came up to hold on to Zanka's hip through the bars, and he realized just how close he'd gotten again. Jabber didn't do anything but grip the fabic there, not even tightly, but Zanka felt completely trapped in place anyway. He felt feverish, overwhelmed and understimulated and he needed to do something.

"I hate you." He was also breathing hard, not just from the fight. His gaze was locked on Jabber, and he moved his right leg through the bars, harshly moving Jabbers hand out of the way and stepping down on his dick instead, causing Jabber to keen and fold over again, head pressing against the bars. "I really fucking hate you." 

Jabber was full on panting now, little noises escaping him with every huffed breath as he ground up against Zanka's shoe, his right hand joining his left at Zankas hips, moving from a steadying hold to a bruising grip as Zanka increased the pressure. 

Jabber didn't have any smartass reply, still slouched over looking at the floor, lost in his own pleasure, and Zanka hated it. He took his right hand and threaded it through Jabbers locs, before making a fist and yanking Jabbers head up sharply to make him look up at Zanka. A gasping moan tore from Jabbers throat as he did, and his eyes fluttered open to meet Zanka's.

He looked absolutely wrecked, eyes unfocused and face sweaty, with a small bit of drool coming out of his mouth. He swallowed and looked like he was trying to formulate words, but nothing came out. His movements against Zanka got more desperate. 

"Fucking pathetic. Look at you." Zanka's hands were still shaking and he felt high. He felt absolutely out of his mind. Jabbers eyes just rolled to the back of his head as he groaned, low and needy. His head tried to fall forward again but Zanka's grip on his locs kept him upright, the pull making him whimper and the sound tattooed itself immediately in Zanka's brain. 

He took his left hand and moved it carefully through the bars so as to not hurt his shoulder any further, and wrapped it around Jabbers throat just above his collar. Not pressing yet, just holding it there, feeling the movement of every breath dragging through to Jabbers lungs, every bob of his adams apple as he swallowed. At the feeling of it, Jabber's whines and moans only got louder, moving himself fervently before he seemingly reached an apex, giving one last loud groan and a few thrusts, before collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut, only barely held up by Zanka's grip on his hair, body trembling with aftershocks. 

Zanka just watched him, his own breath coming out shaky, before reality seemed to sink in and he dropped Jabbers head like he'd been burned, stumbling backwards. 

What the fuck. What the fuck was that. 

Without even looking down he could tell he had another issue too. He could feel the fabric of his pants straining and the sight of Jabber, still fucked-out on the cell floor, did not make it any better. What the hell had even happened??

He needed to run away, or hide, or just be anywhere other than here but there was nowhere to go. There wasn't even anything to hide behind. He was trapped and completely exposed and the second Jabber looked over he'd be able to see what Zanka needed to keep hidden from him. He kept backing up until he ran into the wall, ignoring the still throbbing pain in his shoulder. He slid down it, and pulled his knees up to his chest, crossing his ankles for extra insurance to try and hide his shame. He made a fist around his thumbs and tried to will it away with everything he had in him. His knuckles still stung. 

Stupid. Stupid. He'd crossed a line he couldn't return from. And for what?? (The sound jabber had made when he pulled on his hair replayed in his mind and sent another rush of blood to his dick. Probably best to stop thinking about the "why".)

After a minute or so, Jabber picked himself off the ground with a pleased sigh, brushing his hair out of his face and wiping the drool from around his mouth. The cut above his eye was still bleeding sluggishly, painting a streak of red across his rich brown skin. He looked happier than Zanka had ever seen him. His head tilted when he saw Zanka on the other side of the room. 

"What, not gonna let me return the favor? I'll be nice, promise. Won't even use any teeth." He grinned. "Unless you want me to, of course."

The mental image sent another wave of heat coursing through him. This was hell, he'd died and gone to hell, that was the only explanation. He'd been beaten to death in that polluted zone and everything since was cosmic punishment for his wretched soul. It had to be. 

"Stop bein afraid, you ain't gotta hide your true self from me Zan-zan. I see you, clearer than anyone else does."

That was the worst part. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he grit out.

"I mean I definitely can, come back over here and I'll show you~"

He wanted to scream. He'd be happy to go to the lab right now if it meant leaving this situation. 

"C'mon, don't tell me you're just gonna stay over there, that doesn't look very comfortable." 

"Shut up. Just shut up. Can't ya ever just leave me alone?!"

"Cool it, Mr. Bad Attitude, I'm just tryna help. Bein' a good samaritan and shit. Besides, you're one to talk when you can't seem to leave me alone either." 

"Only cause you-! Nope. I'm not doin' this right now." 

"Oh there's a lot you're not doing right now."

Zanka was seriously going to kill him. This was the nightmare scenario. And the worst part was that he had no one to blame but himself. 

Jabber continued to make salacious comments and Zanka tried valiantly to tune him out. Maybe a miracle would happen and the entire facility would catch fire and explode, killing everyone inside, him included. That would be preferable to what he was going through currently. 

An idea popped into his head. A terrible idea he'd probably regret. But he seemed to be doing a lot of that regardless and this at least had the highest chance of getting him what he wanted in the moment.

"Stop talkin' or I swear I'm never touching ya again."

Jabbers eyebrows shot into his hairline, but his mouth closed all the same.

Zanka would take a phyrric victory. 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, once again wondering just how he'd ended up here. Jabber wouldn't stay quiet forever, better to set the terms while he still had the upper hand.

"Okay. Here's the deal. We don't ever talk about...this" He motioned between the two of them. "and once we're out, I'll fight ya as much as ya want."  Nevermind that the chances of either of them getting out, much less both, were slim to none.

Jabbers smile only grew, and he opened his mouth to speak before Zanka cut him off.

"I'm serious, one weird comment and the deals off."

Jabber's mouth closed again as he seemed to re-evaluate his words. Asshole.

"You drive a hard bargain-"

"Watch it." He warned.

"-but I guess I'll accept for now. Offer's open though."

He always had to push the envelope, didn't he. Still, it was as good a solution as Zanka was gonna get, so he'd take it.

For now.

Chapter Text

After a bit of time, Zanka eventually managed to calm himself down –in more ways than one– and the morning continued as usual, or at least as usual as it could be given everything, until familiar distant footsteps signaled the arrival of the guards.

They came a bit later than Zanka expected, but he could assume that Jabber had just woken up weirdly early, if not for the fact that they came from the left, where the labs were. Maybe his stunt had messed up the doors to the kitchen? 

Except they weren't there to deliver food. They were apparently there to take Jabber to the lab for the day, something they did with the usual amount of fanfare, save for a couple extra cold glares sent in his direction. He'd fully expected to be denied food for his escape attempt, but why didn't they bring anything for Jabber? Had they caught on to the fact that Zanka had shared his food with him and expected Jabber would do the same? Zanka seriously doubted he would, but they didn't know that. Or was it a collective punishment to dissuade further attempts? 

So many questions, and zero chance he'd be getting any answers from them, so he didn't bother, just watching them take Jabber down the hall. 

...

The weirdness didn't stop there, as once they brought Jabber back, they didn't pay Zanka any mind at all. Simply tossing Jabber in, re-locking the door, and walking away. 

Huh. A rest day? He supposed his shoulder was still pretty messed up, and had only been made worse by his fight with Jabber, so he probably wouldn't be the best test subject under the circumstances. Still though, it was strange, and it only put him further on edge.

...

Not being taken to the labs meant that for the first time, he was afforded the opportunity to see Jabber's initial recovery from an experiment instead of the other way around, and couldn't deny he was curious.

Apparently, Jabber waking up from the tranquilizer was different than him waking up from sleep. 

Namely, the chief difference being that he jolted himself awake, instead of his usual slow drift into consciousness. It almost made Zanka jump too, and he watched cautiously. Jabber was facing away from him as he laid there for a moment before he slowly sat up, and Zanka realized Jabber didn't know he was there.

He couldn't see his face, but he could tell he wasn't as relaxed as usual, slightly tense shoulders betraying an underlying anxiety that was disconcerting to see on Jabber. He seemed to be half-absentmindedly rubbing his fingers over each other, fidgeting with the areas Mankira usually laid. 

Right, he was being put through his own series of tests with her. He wondered what they'd been doing. 

It was one of the few things they didn't talk about, something that had surprised Zanka at first given Jabber's eagerness to compare notes after the first round of tests, but after they'd started messing with Lovely Assistaff Zanka hadn't wanted to recount his own experiences and decided not to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. 

It was weird seeing Jabber so pensive. There was something so deeply wrong about it, and Zanka suddenly felt the overwhelming need to shatter the silence. Only he couldnt think of anything to say, and the longer he waited the more awkward he felt. 

His eyes drifted around the cell and landed on his salvation, one of Jabbers shoes, still held hostage on his side from the last time Jabber had thrown it at him and missed. Perfect.

As quietly as he could, he reached over and picked it up, before chucking it towards the back of Jabbers head.

The sound of it flying through the air caused Jabber to turn his head, but he was too slow to dodge as it connected with the side of his head, knocking it to the side as the shoe bounced off somewhere. 

"Yowch!" Jabber turned around fully, and at the pain, or at the sight of Zanka, or maybe both, a familiar, easy smile lit up his face. "Damn, how long you been there? Did I really sleep that long?" 

And just like that, he was back to his regular self. Zanka hated how relieved it made him feel.

"Nah, they didn't take me today. Who knows why. Probably cause of the bullet wound, but who knows how long that'll last."

Jabber stretched his arms out above him with a yawn, once again revealing a tiny strip of skin on his stomach, but only for a second. Zanka let his eyes roll over it briefly, returning his gaze to Jabbers face before the other reopened his eyes.

"Luckyy, maybe I should make a run for it too, get some time off."

"Lucky, huh? I thought ya didn't care about the tests. Liked em, even."

Jabber actually broke eye contact at that, only slightly, but still something he'd never done. His relaxed body language didn't change, but one of his hands came up to the other, rubbing the same area as before, just below his knuckles.

"Weak ass losers keep messin with Mankira. Not gonna lie, its kinda startin to piss me off for real."

Now you know how I feel.

It made sense though, it was easy to forget in Jabbers bloodlust and want for pain that he did care about the safety of his beloved rings.

"Doesn't matter too much though." Jabber continued easily, looking at Zanka again. "They just keep makin her stronger, with all the new poisons an' shit. When I bust outta here they won't know what hit em. Almost a shame none of em will last long enough to really feel it."

So he did wanna get out. And he'd had the nerve to call Zanka out for not being honest. Hypocrite. 

"Well I got dibs on the old man, so paws off. Lovely Assistaff's gonna help me make him regret some things before I kill him." Zanka promised. 

Jabber looked like he'd won the lottery, dark eyes shining as he stared at him intensely.

"Careful, you'll make me swoon. But I also had my eye on the guy. Guess its whoever gets to him first."

Zanka stared right back, not backing down for a second. Even in a hypothetical, he couldn't pass up the thought of breaking the old man's bones with Assistaff, but he had to admit there would be something poetic about making him endure the same toxins he'd been pumping in them. 

"I ain't opposed to sharin'."

Jabber looked hungry, and there was a slight flushed quality to his cheeks. 

"Damn, that's the sorta thing I normally hate, but I guess I could make an exception."

...

Dinner came around and finally, the guards showed up from the right with some food, putting the solitary tray in Jabbers cell before leaving again. 

Zanka couldn't see what exactly it was and he told himself he didn't care, even when his stomach disagreed. Loudly. 

Jabber laughed at the sound and looked over towards Zanka.

"What, not gonna ask for some?" He mocked, giving Zanka deja vu.

"You're not gettin' a 'please' outta me if my life depended on it." Zanka deadpanned.

"Ugh, you're no fun." Jabber replied, sticking his tongue out. "Catch."

Mostly on instinct –probably due in no small part to the game they'd been playing– Zanka managed to catch whatever was being tossed towards him without dropping it. It was another bread roll, ripped in half.

He looked back up at Jabber with a surprised skepticism, raising an eyebrow.

Jabber just shrugged. "Fairs fair. Plus, can't have you all skin and bones by the time we get outta here. You promised me some fights, remember?" 

Right, he had done that. That morning felt like forever ago. Somehow in the span of about 24 hours he'd managed to go from completely hopeless about escape to half-joking with Jabber about it like it was already a forgone conclusion. 

It was scary sometimes, how easily Jabber seemed to be able to affect his mood by just existing. And scarier still was how he was starting to mind it less and less. Or maybe he was just building a tolerance. (He thought back to their fight, and what had happened after.) 

...Actually, maybe he wasn't.

"There's soup too, if you want it."

Jabbers voice brought him out of his thoughts and he looked down by the floor, where the bowl was pressed up against the bars. Some sort of red blended soup, probably tomato. 

He still remembered the first soup incident, and kept his eyes on Jabber as he tore off a piece of bread and dunked it. 

Jabber, as if reading his mind, just winked, before ripping off some bread and following Zankas lead. 

For a minute they just sat in silence and ate together. It was strangely domestic somehow, in a way it hadn't been in the days to weeks prior. Casual in a way it really shouldn't be simply because it was the two of them. Just that morning they'd been trying to rip each others faces off. 

It really had been a long day. 

That reminded him. 

"Hey, ya got any idea why they didn't give ya food this morning?"

"Oh that?" Jabber ate another piece of soup-dipped bread, speaking with his mouth still full. "Probably cause I grabbed your remote when you made a run for it. They didn't bring me any last night either."

Zanka paused all his movements and just stared at him. There was a lot to unpack in that but he decided to start with the most pressing. And the least complicated.

"My remote? What d'ya mean?"

Jabber finished his bite and gave Zanka a slightly patronizing expression.

"What, you didnt notice? Tweedledee's remote only works for you, Tweedledum's only works for me."

He must have been talking about the guards, but that thought was overshadowed by the final puzzle piece clicking into place. *That* was why the taller guard only ever interacted with Jabber, and the shorter with him. Whichever guard stayed outside the cell had the corresponding remote as extra insurance. It was so obvious he kicked himself for not putting it together sooner. And even worse was the fact that Jabber had realized it, probably pretty early on if his casual tone was any indication. 

"How do ya know that for sure though? Who's to say it isn't just based on where the remote's pointing, and we just each have a specific guard assigned to us arbitrarily?" 

"Didn't know it for sure til your little runaway routine. They been gettin mad lazy, not even making me move to the back when they drop you off anymore. Whenever Tweedledee opens your door they end up real close to me. So when you started doin your shit I made a grab for the gun. Dude was fast though, and I just ended up making the remote fly off somewhere. Tweedledum should've gone for his if it worked on you, but he went for the gun instead."

Zanka just stared in stunned silence. Jabber must have reacted faster than either of the guards when Zanka made his move, despite having no clue he was gonna do it. And not only that, but he'd tried to help Zanka escape. He had helped him, that was probably what had allowed him to clear the hallway and make it around that first corner into the kitchen, and them picking the remote off the ground likely gave him the time he needed to tie up the door. He pushed down the myriad of emotions that accompanied that realization. Everything about it was insane.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor man, I know your good friend Jabber's crazy smart and talented but you should really know that by now." Jabber teased.

"Oh shut up." Zanka replied on instinct. 

Now he really did feel guilty about his plan to leave Jabber behind. Maybe if he'd just told him, things could have gone differently. Maybe they could've gotten out together. 

...Maybe they still could. 

...

In spite of Zanka's expectations, it seemed Jabber was sticking to his word about not bringing up what had happened between them after the fight, even when there were moments it was clear he really wanted to. But still, he managed to keep his mouth shut apart from the regular amount of flirty comments Zanka had long since grown used to. It was almost comical to know exactly where teasing Zanka stood on Jabbers list of priorities. Evidently, it was right below fighting him. And maybe also sleeping with him. He hadn't exactly been specific about what his threat of not touching Jabber entailed, but he could add it to the pile of things to worry about later.

Probably the weirdest part of all of it was how little it had actually changed. They still played stupid games to pass the time, still argued and tried their best to annoy each other with varying degrees of success. And sure, most of that could be attributed to whole "not-talking-about-it" thing, but there wasn't the new thick layer of tension he'd expected. If anything, it seemed like a bit of whatever tension permanently existed between the two of them had slightly dissipated and been replaced with something else. 

That being said, the heat he caught Jabber looking at him with sometimes had something new to it now, and he hated how much he liked whatever it was. 

...

It was three days, by his count, before they brought him food again. Compared to the kind of starvation-based punishments the Hell Guard would dole out it was almost laughable, but he reasoned it probably would have been longer if they didn't need to keep him in a somewhat healthy state in order to get usable data from him. 

He could only assume his shoulder wound was healing well enough, though while they'd cared enough to wrap it after cauterization, they didn't make any move to change the bandages, and every time he moved his left shoulder he could feel the wraps sticking uncomfortably to his skin, especially on his back, the gauze fused to the wound. 

Jabber had continued to share his food with him over the three days, much to his surprise, and a couple times Zanka had forgone drinking his share of water in favor of using it to try and keep the area under the bandages that wasn't stuck down free of sweat and dirt as best he could, hopefully warding off infection. 

Unfortunately, the return of food apparently also meant the return of experiments, and when the shorter guard finally entered his cell again after bringing Jabber back he was intentionally rough with Zanka, yanking his arms behind his back in a way that made zanka grit his teeth, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a pained noise. 

They half-dragged him down the hall, but instead of the usual security door to the right, they scanned open the one on the left, and Zanka subtly perked up. The door opened up to a similarly white, sterile hallway, and he tried not to make it obvious as he looked around, taking in everything he could. A right turn followed by a left led them to a series of doors, of which they entered the first one, scanning the card once more. Zanka noticed the shorter guard now wore their lanyard around their neck like the taller, and internally felt a tiny bit of smug satisfaction at the thought that he'd probably been chastised. 

The door opened to a room that looked like a typical patient examination room. No lab component, no wall, and most importantly no weird-as-fuck torture chair. Only a small area with a sink and cabinets, and an examination table. Looking at it he got another strange sense of deja vu before he realized it was probably where they'd taken him to cauterize his bullet wound. The vague memory of the burning pain did nothing to soothe the anxiety still slowly building in him at the change in routine.

The guards lifted him up by his arms, the action making the wound in his shoulder scream with pain, and set him up so he was sitting on the edge of the table. 

In the shuffle he managed to get a halfhearted kick off on the taller guard that could be considered accidental, though all of them knew it wasn't, and he got a harsh yank on his injured shoulder in return.

Then, the taller guard stepped back a few paces until he was almost at the wall, before pulling out his gun and leveling it at Zanka. 

Zanka froze, heartbeat speeding up as he stared down the barrel. His thoughts raced a mile a minute. Why now? Did he stay still? Did he move? Could he dodge it from this distance, sitting down and with his hands locked behind his back? Should he try and say something? Would that make it worse? His mind ran endless permutations, rapidly trying to find what he could do that would result in him not being shot. 

In his panic he almost didn't notice the shorter guard pulling out another pair of cuffs and crouching down, jolting slightly before forcing himself to stay still as the metal closed around his ankles, locking them together. Running was no longer an option, not that it really had been. 

The shorter guard moved behind him then, and Zanka stayed with his eyes locked on the trigger of the pistol. He felt the cuffs on his hands being undone and removed, but he didn't dare move them from their position, even as he heard the shorter guard step back, staying behind him. 

"Strip."

The pounding in his ears got louder and he stayed frozen, staring with wide eyes. 

There was no way. He knew they were mad but this? This was completely out of left field, something he hadn't even considered as something to worry about. Just how bad had he pissed them off? What could he do?

At his lack of movement the taller guard tightened his grip on the gun and the millimeter of movement kicked Zanka into gear, hands coming around and up to the fabric at his neck. He knew exactly how much pressure it took to go from resting on the trigger to actually firing it, and the grip he had on the gun was bordering closer to the latter. He unzipped his vest and discarded it next to him with fingers that he tried to keep steady. This wasn't happening. He pulled his long sleeve shirt off over his head as best he could with one arm as his thoughts raced faster than he could hold on to them. This was a new type of fear, one he wasn't used to. A primal fear that overrode all logical thought and left him drowning in panic. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He pulled off his undershirt slowly, his final layer on his top half, and the cold air of the room hit his stomach and chest. He wanted to throw up. He felt like he might. 

He wanted to curl into a ball and hide from the cold, emotionless gaze of the guard in front of him. But he couldn't, not while the gun was still on him. Not when the worst was still yet to come. 

He tried to steel himself and failed, barely stopping himself from doing something stupid like begging, and reached down to the belt around his waist with trembling hands. 

"That's enough." Came the voice of the guard in front of him before he did anything more than touch the buckle, and at the same time he heard a snort from the shorter guard behind him. 

Relief, anger, and shame crashed into him at once, leaving him breathless. Thank god. Thank anything. 

The taller guard lifted a hand to their choker.

"You can come in."

The door unlocked and opened, and in came a middle aged man in a lab coat, stethoscope around his neck. Not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered because Zanka was too busy trying to put himself back together. Trying to reorient himself after feeling like he'd been shoved into a snowglobe and shaken forcefully. 

They were just there to check on his wound. That was all. That was all it was. 

The man was speaking, probably to him, but all he could hear was static.

At the glow of a vital instrument activating he managed to mostly snap out of it, looking up to see the mans stethoscope moving with a life of its own, snaking through the air before landing on Zanka's bare chest. The cool metal felt alien and uncomfortable and it quickly moved to his shoulder, then his stomach, then his head, slithering around all over while the man listened through the ear pieces, humming with interest at each pause as his finger pantomimed writing something. 

It was violating, the feel of it making Zanka's skin crawl and he was glad when it finally ended, stethoscope returning to normal as the man wrapped it back around his neck and addressed the guards. 

"Okay, looks mostly good. Some new trauma to the wound site, among other places. Very slight nasal fracture, but that should heal just fine on its own. Remnants of a grade 2 concussion caused by direct impact injury to the temple but again, nothing to worry about. Nutrition and hydration levels slightly below normal. Perforating GSW healing at a slower than normal rate, likely due to continued use of the left arm. White blood cell count slightly higher than expected, potential infection risk. Normal amount of serous fluid produced from cauterization. I do wish you'd let me use stitches, but alas. Overall, subject is cleared for resumed testing, though injuries should be taken into account when extrapolating results. Obviously." 

Obviously. Like he was just talking about the weather. He wasn't even looking at Zanka, instead speaking only to the guards. It was infuriating. Anger was familiar, he could hold on to that. 

"Let's clean the wound with an antibacterial spray and and re-wrap it, then we should be all good here!"

The doctor got some equipment from the cupboards and came around to Zanka's left side. He used flat scissors to cut away the bandage until the only parts left were the areas right over his wound, still stuck to it. 

"Deep breath." Was the only warning he got before the man started to pull the bandage away. It hurt like hell and Zanka sucked a breath in through his teeth, making a fist and feeling his nails dig into his palm. He fought the overwhelming instinct to punch the guy, only stopped by the still-present threat of the gun in front of him. He couldn't see the guard behind him but he'd be willing to bet he was doing the same. Bastards.

The man moved to the front and repeated the same painful action, pulling something close to a growl from Zanka's throat, but none of them reacted, save for a slight chuckle from the doctor. This place just loved to hire crazies, huh.

With the wrappings off he got his first real look at his shoulder. The skin was red and angry, both from the initial injuries and the removal of the bandage, a hole of skin forced together and burned into place. It didn't take a genius to know it would scar, and the idea of this place leaving such a permanent mark on him sat sour in his throat. 

The feeling of the spray on the front of his shoulder almost made him pass out, body heaving forward without permission, while they took advantage of that to spray his back. It left his entire body vibrating. Luckily it seemed the guards were at least somewhat understanding, and let him take a breath before he sat back up. The doctor laid a pad of hopefully nonstick gauze over both sides of the wound and wrapped it again in clean, white bandages. The pressure of the cloth helped ease the pain, but only slightly. 

The doctor, now finished, bid adieu to the two guards, still without even looking at Zanka, and scanned himself out of the room. 

Then it was just Zanka and the guards again. The taller motioned with his gun to the pile of clothes next to him.

"Alright. Get dressed."

He'd never been so willing to follow one of their orders, pulling on his clothes as fast as he could, trying to preserve what little dignity he had left. 

Once he was fully dressed again they secured his arms behind his back and undid the cuffs connecting his legs, pulling him off the table in a way that made him stumble for only a second. 

They left the room with him, going a different direction to the one they came from, and Zanka continued to look around, knowing he possibly wouldn't get a chance like this again. If they brought him around to the normal lab room from a different direction it would be huge in helping him mentally map out the corridors. On the other hand, it would also mean that he'd be doing an experiment on top of the bullshit he'd already gone through, but it was something at least. Plus, after that, an experiment might even help him take his mind off the residual, irrational fear still simmering low in his stomach. He knew what to expect there, at least. 

They turned into a now familiar hallway, because the universe always loved to call Zanka's bluff, and entered into the usual lab.

The old man was already inside with his assistant, and as usual tried to be friendly with Zanka, asking about his injuries while ignoring Zanka's obvious disdain as they moved him in the testing room, and bemoaning how they were now several days behind schedule. Zanka didn't care about whatever self-imposed timeline the man had created, and made sure he knew it. As usual though, his agency extended only as far as words, and unlike Zanka, they got to choose whether or not to listen to him.

Secured once more to the chair, the old mans voice crackled over the intercom.

"Let's not waste any more time, then. We've got a lot to make up for!"

...

He woke up back in the cell. They definitely refilled the tranquilizer then, he didn't even remember feeling it. 

It had been similar to the first visit, in that they hadn't brought in Assistaff, and apparently they'd decided to redo all the trials from that day too. He wasn't sure if it was to get a new baseline post-injury or punish him for trying to escape. Probably both. Either way, the residual feeling of the trials paired with the ache in his shoulder left him feeling worse than he had in a long time. 

He laid there for a minute before as always, Jabber's voice brought him out of it. He really was a nuisance, but he was a good distraction if nothing else. And Zanka needed a distraction. 

...

Apparently Jabber had been more serious about escape than Zanka thought, since they started planning in earnest that night. It made him really wonder what they'd been doing with Mankira, since he struggled think of any other reason –other than boredom– that would make Jabber so eager to leave now.

 A good handful of Jabber's ideas were stupidly risky, and more likely to fail fantastically than succeed, but a surprising amount of them were well-founded, a lot even being similar to Zanka's own. 

He learned that the room they took Jabber to was in a different hallway than his, and together they did their best to map out the facility, scratching a rough map into the ground near the back of the cells. With the dim light and inability to make especially deep scratches, it was only visible to those who knew what to look for, which hopefully meant the guards wouldn't notice it at all. Catching them off guard would be key.

...

The days went back to their usual schedule and routine, save the addition of nightly brainstorming sessions, and an increasing itch in Zanka's shoulder. When three more days went by without a rewrapping, and then a fourth and fifth, he came to terms with the fact that he likely wouldn't be getting the dressing changed again. Whether it was because they'd decided to make it part of their experiment or if they just didn't care about it past his short-term survival, it seemed he was on his own. And even with his best efforts, water and care could only do so much against the dirt of the ground and the fact that he couldn't change the bandages or his clothes. The skin around the wound was getting a bit warmer each day, redness starting to extend past the initial burned area. Definitely the beginnings of an infection. It only made him more determined to get out. He wouldn't mess up again this time. 

He'd thought about hiding the infection from Jabber, but let it never be said that he didn't learn from his mistakes. As much as he hated it, Jabber needed to know about something that could potentially impact their escape. 

Jabber gave him shit for it, as expected, but it didn't escape Zanka's notice how after, he increased his efforts to plan and get information. 

He was impossible to figure out. So simple and so complex at the same time, a walking contradiction in nearly every way. 

Still though, he was deceptively smart and Zanka found himself glad they were allies. Working together they had a real chance.

He only hoped that after they were out, things between them didn't get any more complicated than they already were. 

Chapter Text

"I still think I should be the one to shoot the gun, how come you get to have all the fun while I do all the hard work?" Whined Jabber, once again lying on his back with his legs vertical on the bars.

Zanka sat a few feet away, legs crossed under him. 

"I told ya before, its just more fullproof. What happens if the shorter guard-"

"Tweedledum."

"Not gonna happen, fer the last godamn time. What happens if the shorter guard pulls out their gun before you can finish killing the taller one, or if they go for a shock?"

At the mention of it, Jabber licked his lips and opened his mouth before Zanka cut him off.

"Don't even start. Look, once we're out and we've got the remotes you can zap yerself silly for all I care, but there ain't a chance in hell you can fire a gun with any accuracy while being electrocuted, and if you have to shoot another person beforehand you're gonna lose that quickdraw."

"Hey, at least I can still use both my arms, you sure you'd be alright to go all cowboy, Mr. Invalid?"

"This invalid's gonna kick yer ass as soon as we're outta here, just you wait. And even if it were a problem, I don't need two hands to fire a pistol. Besides, have ya ever even shot a gun before?"

"Does Russian Roulette count?"

Zanka felt his eye twitch.

"Given that you're still alive to annoy me I'm gonna go with no."

"Damn."

Zanka just rolled his eyes. It was only one version of one of the many plans they'd proposed, but it seemed like one of the most feasible iterations so far unless they got any new information. Like before, the biggest obstacle would be the collars. 

Stealing a gun and shooting the guards was a tradeoff. The sound of it would definitely call unwanted attention and put them on a timer, but it also guaranteed them access to the remotes. Though if they weren't the only remotes, and it was unlikely they were, they'd be back at square one. 

"Who says you'd be a better shot anyway?" Jabber challenged.

He would be. He'd been at the top of his class in marksmanship. It hadn't been easy; the guns had never quite felt right in the same way Assistaff did, but he'd been practicing nearly since birth, and there had been countless sleepless nights where he'd stolen away to the shooting range, training relentlessly until he looked like a natural.

He hadn't shot a gun since that fateful day when everyone had finally found out just how average he truly was, and had rarely even seen one since he'd joined the Cleaners, but the muscle memory was burned into him. 

"Trust me. I can do it." 

The seriousness in his voice made Jabber pause the movement of his feet and look over, intrigued.

"Oh? You good with guns Zan-zan? Didn't see that coming, where'd you learn, that's not very Cleaner of you." He teased, but with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity. 

Shit. He needed to think of some sort of lie, but before he could, Jabber put a closed fist on his open palm, lighting up.

"Oh wait! It was that bang-bang girl right? The one with the hair? She got me pretty good, took forever to heal up."

What? 

"Bang-bang girl? What nonsense are ya talking about now?"

"You know! The red-haired girl, with the scissors? I thought y'all were close, man."

"...You mean Riyo?" 

"Yeah, sure, whatever. She shot me after our little duel in the trash beast, I didn't see it comin' at all."

Riyo had shot him?? No one had told him that part. Where had she even gotten the gun? He didn't quite know all the details of her past, but he knew that it hadn't been pretty. He knew she definitely had more blood on her hands than anyone else, but he thought she'd left that behind her. To learn from Jabber of all people that she was still carrying around a gun...

"I thought y'all were close"

...He'd thought so too, but now he wasn't so sure. What else had she kept hidden from him? Not that she wasn't allowed to, they both had their secrets, but for some reason it still stung. 

"Yeesh dude, what are you moping about? You that sad I got my ass kicked by someone else? You gonna cry about it?"

He was lucky Zanka was sitting purposefully out of reach and not within kicking range.

"Just mourning the fact that Riyo didn't shoot ya through the heart."

"Mmm that would be somethin, huh." Freak. "But nah, I'd rather you did it instead." He purred with a heated look.

Zanka's face burned, and he was suddenly grateful for the low-grade fever he could blame it on. 

"Oh trust me, I'd love to."

...That hadn't come out right. 

Jabber looked surprised and thrilled in equal parts. Damnit. Well, too late to back down now. He met Jabber's gaze head on, hoping he looked annoyed instead of embarrassed. 

At the sight of Zanka not backing down Jabber's grin only grew, eyes wide. When he spoke it had that breathiness that always got under his skin, and he was a bit quieter than normal, like he was speaking mostly to himself. 

"You really are perfect. God, you have no idea what..." He inhaled a long breath through his nose and seemed to steady himself somewhat, looking at him with something between reverence and a shit-eating grin. "Zanka. When you kill me, you'd better keep those eyes on me the whole time. And I want you to really make it hurt."

Zanka couldn't look away. A part of him didn't want to. A big part that was getting harder and harder to ignore. This was dangerous. It wasn't crossing the line, not quite yet, but it was getting close. Still though, he stood his ground. Two could play at that game.

"I will." 



...



A couple more days passed, mostly uneventful, and then things changed again about a week and a half after his failed escape attempt.

It had been a fairly standard morning. Breakfast had been its usual affair, and not much longer after, the guards had arrived for Jabber while Zanka waited and continued to run escape plans through his mind, looking for anything they'd missed.

The day only took a turn when they brought Jabber back, and as they came into view Zanka noticed Jabber was sporting the beginnings of a nasty black eye. 

Jabber had endured worse, hell, Zanka had done much worse to him, but all the same there was something about the injury that really pissed Zanka off to look at it.  

He schooled his expression before the guards arrived in front of the cells proper. No matter what plan they ended up going with, all of them relied on the guards not suspecting anything, so it was important to play it like they'd beaten him down. He couldn't help but scan Jabber for more injuries though, and didn't see anything. Though unless they'd broken skin it would be impossible to tell underneath his Raider uniform. 

He let himself be cuffed none-too-gently and walked down towards the far end of the cell, putting Jabber out of his mind. He'd be fine. He always was. 

...

"Wood is quite the interesting material to make a vital instrument out of, wouldn't you say? So easily shaped into what you need it to be. Did you carve it yourself?"

Zanka stayed quiet, pouring hatred into every second he stared at the old man, who continued, unbothered.

"And your staff, in its activated form, is a fairly faithful adaptation of its base. More so than most. If you were to change the pattern of the wood on the staff, would that affect the metal when it activates?" 

Lovely Assistaff's transformed state had changed very little from when he'd first awakened her, and what little changes did occur seemed to be based on the evolution of Zanka's own abilities and mental state rather than the physical qualities of the wood itself, which Zanka had smoothed out over time and built up a nice protective layer of lacquer on. Not that he'd share that with the old geezer.

At his silence, the old man shrugged.

"Well, I suppose there's only one way to find out for sure."

From the back, blow dart guy brought forward a whittling knife and handed it to him. Shit. 

"It doesn't." Zanka said a bit too quickly. The old man held the knife still and raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. Bastard.

"Caring for the wood strengthens my bond with her, but it doesn't impact the metal, okay?"

"...Huh, Interesting. But you'll have to understand that we can't just take your word for it."

"You fucking- I told you what you wanted!"

"And I appreciate that, but it would be downright unscientific to not at least test it out to see. Don't worry though, for your compliance we'll do the minimum damage we can, since we have that luxury with yours, and I'll even make it our last test of the day. If you were telling the truth, that is."

The old man was so dead. All of them were. Zanka couldn't wait to wreak havoc upon this place the second he got the chance. 

They ignored his yelled threats and cut a small, barely visible notch in the main, long part of Assistaff. It was probably about 2 cm long and less than a centimeter deep, but the sight of it, the knowledge that Lovely Assistaff was getting damaged because he couldn't protect her, hurt like he himself was the one being carved up, and he pulled against his bindings furiously, not caring about the pain, until they put the knife down and walked her over to the door behind him.

They brought her into the room and stuck her forward into his open hand. He wrapped his hand around the wood as soon as he could, and held her there for a moment without activating, rubbing his thumb on the grain of the wood, mentally apologizing.

Then he transformed her and without looking, not that he could, he already knew the sleek white handle wouldn't show any damage. He knew his instrument to her very core. 

There was a hum of what might have been intrigue or disappointment, before he felt the familiar wave of exhaustion that came with the tranquilizer.

"Well, a deals a deal." Was the last thing he heard before his eyes closed of their own accord. 

...


Zanka woke up seething. How dare they. They'd been threatening Assistaff for a long while but this was the first time they'd actually done any damage, even if it was minor. They needed to speed up their timeline on escape, being willing to damage their instruments was a bad sign they were nearing the end of their experiments. Not only that, but Zanka could tell his infection was getting worse by the day. His body always felt warm, hands constantly clammy, and he was sleeping more and more. 

He and Jabber needed to figure out what exactly they were going to do before they ran out of time to do it.

As he looked over to speak his mind to Jabber, he froze at the sight.

Jabber was sitting with his back pressed against the bars that separated them, curled in a ball with his knees to his chest. His hands were knotted in his locs near the scalp and seemed to be pulling and releasing in intervals with his breath, which was faster than usual. 

Zanka sat up, intentionally making noise as he scraped against the floor.

Jabber showed no reaction. 

Now Zanka was starting to get worried. 

He moved over, still trying to be as loud as he could, waiting for Jabber to snap out of it. He didn't. 

Eventually Zanka was right behind him, unsure what to do. He settled on reaching forward, flicking the back of Jabbers head as he spoke.

"Hey. Tha hell's up with you?"

Not the most tactful, but it was Jabber. They two of them didn't do 'soft'. The idea of having to calm him down of all people was so antithetical to their...everything that Zanka felt like the entire cell had been flipped upside down. 

Still, Jabber didn't react at all, continuing with his deep breaths and hair-pulling. The worry only increased.

"Okay, seriously, what's up. Did they do somethin weird to ya in the lab, or something with Mankira?"

At the mention of Mankira Jabber froze his movements, then started pulling even harder as he exhaled a long breath and finally spoke with a growl.

"They broke her." 

Zanka's blood ran cold.

"What?" He breathed out, disbelieving.

"They broke a piece of her. Her tenth ring. Wanted to see if she could still fully activate without it. I'll kill them. All of them. Slowly." 

His voice was shaky and furious, and Zanka suddenly realized he'd never actually seen him angry. Manic, upset, annoyed, sure. But never truly angry. 

Zanka was at a loss for words. He knew he'd be absolutely inconsolable if something like that ever happened to Lovely Assistaff, even just the threat of it over the last few weeks was consistently enough to make him sick with anger. But the idea of it actually happening? 

"Fuck. Jabber, I...." 

What could he even say? No sympathy he could offer would be enough, and even if it were, it was still Jabber he was dealing with. Regular rules didn't apply. He felt completely out of his depth. Even before all of this, he'd never been the best at comforting people. In any jobs where townspeople had lost loved ones to trash beasts or where civilians were frightened he usually left most of the more emotional talking to others when possible, only going out of his way to calm people down when he was partnered up with someone he knew would probably just make it worse. 

In lieu of saying something he reached his arm out, hand hesitating before it reached its destination, hovering just above Jabber's shoulder. 

Strangely, this felt more like crossing a line than anything else they'd done so far. As if offering comfort, offering gentleness, would be to finally drop all pretenses about what exactly their relationship was, and it was terrifying. Still though, fear alone had never been enough to stop Zanka before and it wasn't going to be now. 

His right hand landed softly on Jabbers right shoulder, and the strength with which Jabber pulled his hair lessened at the gentle touch, before stopping completely.

It felt like they were both holding their breath.

They sat there for a moment, in fragile silence, before Zanka started to feel really stupid about just having his hand on Jabber's shoulder and began to pull away. At the movement though, Jabber's right hand quickly came down from his hair and rested on top of Zankas, keeping it there. He didnt grab it harshly, didn't dig his nails into the top of Zankas hand, didn't even push down with any pressure. He just held it there, a silent request to stay.

...And Zanka stayed, let the weight of his hand fall back onto Jabbers shoulder, giving it the slightest squeeze, and a trembling breath fell out of Jabbers lips.

This was something new, something different, and Zankas heart beat faster than it possibly ever had. Unlike all the other times though, he didn't hate it. He swallowed, and when he spoke it was quiet.

"We'll get outta here. And when we do we'll make them pay for it. I promise. I promise we will."

Jabber just breathed, still trying to compose himself. He brought his left hand out of his hair and down towards the floor, fingers just barely crossing the line behind him over to Zankas side. He knew what Jabber wanted, even if he wouldn't ask for it, not like this, and Zanka decided in for a penny, in for a pound as he took the opportunity to thread their fingers together with his other hand, rubbing his thumb along the area mankira usually laid. Jabbers breath hitched at the action. 

Jabber cleared his throat and took another deep, steadying breath, clearly trying to disguise the tremble in his voice.

"Damn, who woulda thought all it would take for you to get handsy was seein me in a state like this. Knew you were a pervert."

Zanka just kept the comforting grip on his shoulder, kept soothing his thumb over Jabbers fingers, speaking low and with a vague amusement.

"Hah. Now who's trying to deflect?"

Jabber exhaled a shaky half laugh out of his nose at that, and Zanka counted it as a win. He continued.

"Seriously though, when we get outta here they're gonna regret ever touching Mankira. You can even have the old guy completely to yerself. Just give him a good few hits for me and Assistaff, kay?"

Jabber leaned his head back against the bars, and this close, even beneath all the dirt and grime, Zanka could still catch a faint whiff of the metallic ozone scent he associated with Jabber, like the air just before a lightning strike. 

"Wasn't even the old dude. It was god damn bob girl. She's the one I really want. Gonna spear her ass all the way through one by one with her other nine claws." Relief rushed through Zanka. So Mankira did still work. He'd been afraid to ask. Jabber seemed a bit steadier. "And besides, didn't we agree we were gonna share? I know you wanna beat the shit out of him just as bad as I wanna watch you do it, so don't back out on me now."

His voice was mostly back to normal, and despite everything Zanka couldn't suppress a small smile. His voice was soft.

"All right, you get bob girl, I get dart guy, and we'll share the old man. Real chivalrous of ya."

"Only for you, Zan-zan." Jabber said as he squeezed their joined hands.

Zanka squeezed back, and decided that if Jabber was allowed to have a moment of weakness so was he, and let his forehead fall forward, just barely stopped by the bars from resting against the back of Jabber's head. He could feel the hair lightly brushing his forehead. 

Only for you


...


Something did change, after that. More than it had after their little tryst. Where before, Zanka had kept his distance, and Jabber had kept himself pressed himself against the bars in retribution, the dividing line between them now stayed closer to center. Zanka kept closer to the bars, and Jabber allowed him a bit more space. Not much, but a bit. They sat closer together, mostly facing each other, but sometimes side to side, and other times even back to back. 

They planned, and Zanka continued to get a real appreciation for just how smart Jabber was when it came to things he actually cared about. They filled gaps in each others knowledge, each drawing separate conclusions that helped them figure out the bigger picture. It was kind of funny, how compatible they were as allies because of their differences. In a way, they'd both been right.

One night, they finally talked about the labs, and he learned the full extent of what kind of experiments they'd been doing with Mankira. 

It was similar to what he'd been going through with assistaff, but they never allowed Jabber to actually put the rings on, instead pressing them against his skin to activate. It turned out he could activate them individually, but couldn't unleash her true form without all ten. He also learned they'd started damaging Mankira about a week and a half ago, starting with scratches on the tenth ring that turned into warping before leading to them breaking it entirely. Jabbers voice shook when he talked about it, mostly with anger, but also with grief, clearly trying to disguise the latter with the former. Zanka knew the feeling.

In return, Zanka shared what he'd been going through with Lovely Assistaff. The endurance tests, the fire, the damage, the fear. That was a conversation they'd chosen to have while sitting back to back, a decision they'd both made without having to speak about it. 

They'd been doing a lot of that lately, wordless understandings passing easily between the two with just a look or a shift in body language. He'd been able to read Jabber pretty well for a while now, and he suspected the opposite was even more true, but the difference now was that they acted on it in ways that weren't exclusively antagonistic. 

Not to say that that aspect of their relationship was gone, far from it. There was always an underlying sharpness, even in their softest moments. He'd started to come to terms with the fact that he liked to push Jabbers buttons almost as much as Jabber liked to push his. They'd gotten more physical, not just in casual touch, poking and pushing, feet and knees brushing between bars more times than could be considered accidental, but also in the types of games they'd entertain themselves with. Occasional games of mercy or thumb wrestling or one-armed tug-of-war using Jabbers waist wrap when they both needed to blow off some steam often ended with them breathing hard and grinning. Jabber usually won, mostly due to Zanka still dealing with a cauterized bullet wound and matching infection, but there were few times he managed to trip Jabber up, and it thrilled the both of them. 

Nothing like the time after their fight happened again, but Jabber was easy to rile up, and Zanka realized he loved to take advantage of it, finally having a way to get back at Jabber for constantly getting on his nerves. It was a rush to be able to get Jabber a bit hot and bothered and then ignore him when he was actually mad at him. It drove Jabber crazy, not only in the physical sense, but also because apparently he couldn't tell if he loved or hated it, the ecstasy of Zanka being so cruel to him matching perfectly with how awful it was to not get what he needed. And Zanka loved it.

The realization made him feel horrible at first, and had sent him spiraling for a bit before Jabbers incessant talking had pissed him off enough that he decided for now at least, he didn't care. 

And even in all that, there was an emotion growing that they'd never put a name to. Something so gentle and dangerous it was more terrifying than any experiment. It hummed when Jabber looked at him after saying something that managed to make Zanka laugh, it lurked when Zanka heard Jabber humming something quietly to himself, hissed whenever the guards carelessly tossed an unconscious Jabber onto the floor of the cell. 

...

One night, a handful of days into their new whatever-it-was, he woke up from a particularly bad nightmare with a choked scream. 

He took a second to listen and make sure he hadn't woken Jabber up, and then sat up and curled himself into a ball with his back against the bars, a mirror of how Jabber had sat just a few days ago. He threaded his hands through his hair but didn't pull, fingernails scraping against his scalp as he breathed through his nose. Trying to calm himself down. It was just a dream. 

The feeling of a pair of arms snaking around his waist made him jolt. He tried to turn around, but Jabber's locked arms kept him from being able to twist fully, and a sleepy groan stopped him from moving more. He hadn't even heard Jabber get up. Still, the contact was strangely grounding, and for a moment, he allowed himself to just sit in it. Jabber gave a pleased hum, and the grip around his midsection squeezed once, before continuing to just hold him. It was shockingly comforting, even if the vulnerability of it all left him feeling like a bird whose wings were spread out in somebody's hands, only hoping they didnt crush the hollow bones. 

Jabber didn't say anything, and Zanka was glad for it. Jabber acting kind was already disorienting enough, if he tried to offer words of comfort –something Zanka doubted he was even capable of– he'd take it as a sign that he'd finally gone fully insane. But neither of them made any move to speak, and the feel of Jabber's arms around him and steady breaths from behind calmed him down, something that just a few weeks ago would have been the very cause of his distress. The irony wasn't lost on him. 

Once they got out he needed to make sure to decondition himself out of the feeling of relief Jabber was starting to evoke in him. But for now, he took advantage of it. 

Somehow, he managed to fall back asleep, and when he woke up he noticed two things. The first was that he was laying on his side, facing Jabber, whose hand was through the bars and holding Zanka's own. The second was that he somehow felt more well-rested than he had in weeks. 

...

It became something of a ritual to sleep close to each other after that, something Zanka hadn't done since the night Jabber had decided to draw on him like they were at some teenage sleepover instead of being held hostage. But Jabber was behaving himself in that regard, and Zanka realized that while he still constantly did his best to bring out Zanka's fury, he seemed to long for the proximity and occasional contact maybe even more, and was slightly more hesitant to do things that would make Zanka move away from him. Jabber seemed to revel in the brief moments of affection contact almost as much as their fights, and after a couple nights Zanka realized the nightmares, though not gone entirely, were much easier to handle with someone nearby, easier to shake off when he woke up with an ankle hooked over his own or a hand in his. To his alarm, he noticed it wasn't always Jabber crossing over to his side anymore, and Zanka often woke up with his own hands or an ankle through the bars, as if he were subconsciously reaching out for Jabber in his sleep. 

His increase in fatigue meant there were more times he was asleep when Jabber wasn't, and sometimes the other would shake him awake if he caught him grimacing and twitching in his sleep, though his gentleness while doing do left something to be desired. Still, being vigorously jostled awake was often better than dealing with whatever scenario his mind had decided to torment him with that night, so he counted it as a reluctant win regardless.

He'd never thank him for it, and more than once Jabber had been on the receiving end of his ire after waking up, misplaced anger lashing out at the easiest target, but Jabber continued to do it all the same.

It was funny how everything and nothing had changed at the same time. The exact same stubborn persistence that drove Zanka crazy was now something he silently thanked. They'd gotten more violent, and at the same time gentler. He still hated Jabber, but now it was matched in intensity by something else. 

Something else. That same soft something he refused to put a name to, and his only consolation was that Jabber apparently seemed as reluctant to assign a name to it as he did. 

He supposed they didn't need to.

Chapter Text

It took a few more days of planning, interspersed as usual with mindless games and arguments and conversations that at times got a little too personal, but they had a solid plan. And it was a good thing they did, as Zanka's infection was quickly progressing. 

He could tell his heartbeat was permanently a bit faster than normal, though sometimes it was hard to tell if that was the infection or Jabber's influence, or maybe both, and he always felt both too hot and too cold, sweating and shivering at the same time. There were occasional moments when everything became hazy, and his thoughts would be hard to hold on to, sometimes drifting away mid sentence. Jabber hid it well, and would probably never admit it, but Zanka could tell he was getting worried, even going so far as to insist they move their plan up by a few days, even if it wasn't the most optimal time to strike.

Zanka refused flat out. They needed the extra time to make absolutely sure the guards wouldn't suspect anything, and they had to be sure about the sedative refill schedule, something he'd been monitoring carefully by feel since his first attempt, and apparently so had Jabber. They refilled Jabber's every two days, and his own every four, and the plan was to do it on the morning of the refill, when it would be weaker, if only by a bit. If everything went to plan they wouldn't need it, but if it didn't, a couple extra seconds of consciousness could be the difference between life and death. 

He wouldn't fail again. 

Still though, his degenerating health wasn't the only thing they had to worry about. The experiments with their vital instruments were getting more extreme, and while such a breakthrough discovery about Jabber's instrument had pacified them for a while, essentially making them start over as they redid all their experiments with his new claws to compare, Zanka wasn't so lucky, and the tests on Lovely Assistaff were getting harsher by the day; larger cuts now marred the body of the staff and a ugly black burn now scarred the very bottom. A lot of the damage was likely –hopefully, it had to have been or Zanka didn't know what he'd do– negated by the lacquer he'd built up over years of obsessive protective care, and he knew as things stood now he could still fix her once they escaped, but all the same he'd still lost his voice for almost a whole day after the visit where they took a flame to the bottom. 

He could tell they were getting to the point where they'd soon switch to testing their instruments to see just how far they could go before breaking them entirely. And after that happened, it was unlikely they'd have any use for the two of them for much longer beyond that point. There was a reason all the other cells were empty, after all. (Though if that happened, if he lost her, Zanka knew he probably wouldn't have the will or the want to keep going anyway.)

...

Zanka sat in the well, waiting to die.

They'd been shocked. They'd asked him if he was sure. Why had he been so sure? 

Hyo had chosen a katana. Hyo had chosen a reasonable, practical, actual weapon. And he'd chosen a stick. Why had he tried to be different? Why had he been so desperate to subvert expectations that he'd taken a chance on hoping that there was something special about an object that was exactly as average as it appeared? (He knew why.) 

It had been his last chance, his last opportunity to live up to what he was supposed to be, and he'd ruined it. It was a mistake. It wasn't even supposed to be there. It wasn't some test, wasn't some grand trial he'd seen through. It was just a stupid oversight, an error that had led to something worthless being mixed in accidentally with the other items that were actually useful. 

Maybe that was why he'd grabbed it. He'd needed to believe there was something special about it, because if there was it meant that there could still be something special about him. That he could still prove his family wrong, prove himself wrong. It had to be more than met the eye, it just had to. But it hadn't been. And in a single moment of thoughtless, reckless hope, he'd destroyed a lifetime of grueling hard work for a stick. 

Honestly though, he couldn't even blame the stick itself. He never had a chance, not really. There were geniuses and then there was everyone else. And it didn't matter how bad he wanted it, it didn't matter how hard he tried. He would never be a genius. And now he couldn't even maintain the illusion that he was one. He was the worst kind of faker, the most pathetic version of an average joe, to think he could possibly be different than everyone else. To have the audacity to believe just working hard enough could eventually grant him what he'd been denied by fate itself. 

Everyone wanted to be special, that's exactly what made it the most mundane wish in the world. 

He should just die. Why was he still holding on? The cold cobblestone floor of the well was harsh and unforgiving, and the metal bars of the cell dug into his back as he leaned against them. Why had he taken the stupid stick with him when he'd run away with his tail between his legs? Why did he cling to her so desperately?

Something tried to pull her away, but he held on tight. He couldn't seem to let go, whether it be from life itself or from the symbol of how he'd ruined it. The tugging continued as the guard tried to wrench her out of his grip. He wouldn't let go, he couldn't. She was all he had left. He tried to move his arm to get more leverage, tried to get a better grip, but he was bolted in place, wrists bound to the chair.

She slipped through his infuriatingly weak fingers, ripped out of his grasp, and he lost himself. Enjin watched on with pity and disappointment in his eyes as Zanka pulled fruitlessly at his bindings. 

The old man slowly ran his hands up and down her appraisingly and it made Zanka want to throw up. 

"Don't you fucking touch her! Get yer filthy goddamn hands off her, you're DEAD!"

He felt the touch of the guards hands on the back of his neck and the nauseous feeling doubled. 

A fire started below Lovely Assistaff, at the area where her engravings glowed when she was transformed. The scientist–no, it was the taller guard now– kept touching her, Zanka feeling each violating touch as he brought her closer and closer to the flames that were licking up towards the wood. 

"STOP! I-I'll tell you anything, I'll do whatever you want, just-" His voice broke. "Please! PLEASE!" 

His pleading, his begging, much like Zanka himself, simply wasn't enough, and all he could do was watch while his Lovely Assistaff erupted into flame entirely, cracking and popping as it blackened and burned. 

He felt his shoulder tear out of its socket from how hard he was pulling against his bindings, thrashing and crying and screaming himself hoarse.

The lab, the well, the academy, shook around him like an earthquake as he was jostled, disorienting him, and it was all he could to keep his eyes on her, watching his treasure burn like an ember under the light of the flames as he screamed and sobbed uselessly.

Another jostle of movement and he heard someone calling him but he couldn't go to them, couldn't abandon Lovely Assistaff even as she turned to ash in front of him, couldn't rip his eyes away. 

He watched, injured and powerless and alone, feeling a more intense pain than everything he'd ever gone through before combined. A feeling that only got worse as his shoulder started to hurt even more as he was shaken by it, a firm grip moving him back and forth.

And then he woke up.

His eyes shot open with a gasp that wrenched its way out of his throat, and through blurry, unfocused vision, he could see Jabber, kneeling with his hand through the bars and on Zanka's own shoulder. At the sight of Zanka's eyes opening, Jabber moved his hand from Zanka's shoulder down to the side of his arm to give it what might have been a grounding squeeze, but the memory, the feeling of hands on him had him ripping his arm away and scrambling back.

"Don't fucking touch me! Don't-" 

His voice was raw and it broke as he yelled in a way that he hated, and he was still heaving out heavy breaths, everything sounding muffled. He could feel dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Fuck.

Jabber was saying something but he couldn't hear, couldn't make it out aside from a small part of his brain distantly recognizing it wasn't Jabbers usual tone of voice.

It was a nightmare. It was just a stupid goddamn nightmare. Assistaff was fine- well, not fine. But not broken. (Not yet.) The fire, the guards, Enjin–for some reason–it didn't happen. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. 

Anger and shame filled him to bursting and as soon as he got his knees under him again he slammed a punch into the rough concrete below him, feeling the skin of his knuckles break immediately at the impact. 

"DAMN IT! God fucking-" His voice cracked and he took another breath. "Damn it." 

He folded over, forehead almost brushing the concrete as tears stung in his eyes and he tried to keep them from falling. Pathetic. 

Jabber was quiet for a moment longer, then started talking again, and Zanka could hear it this time, his teasing voice softer than usual, but just barely. Zanka hated it.

"C'mon now tough guy, don't go and mess up the one good arm ya got left, you're gonna need that in a couple days."

"Fuck off." His voice was still scratchy and he tried to put as much bite into it as he could.

"There he is." 

Zanka could hear the smile in Jabber's voice, but there was something else hiding underneath. Maybe relief, or maybe something worse. 

"That seemed like a real rough one, you wanna tell me ab-"

"Fuck no." 

Jabber just laughed. 

"Yeah, figured. Worth a shot though."

Zanka hated this. Hated him. It wasn't fair, none of it was fair. He was weak, and Jabber was a constant reminder of that. A constant mirror held up to himself to remind him just how inadequate he was. Now even in mental stability it seemed Jabber was beating him, the one area where Zanka was supposed to have the upper hand. It was infuriating. 

"You're doing it again. C'mere." 

"Fuck off."

"You did that one already man, we gotta get you some better material." 

He really hated him. At least the humiliating urge to cry was gone now though, and he took another breath before looking up to glare at Jabber. 

Jabber stuck his arm through the bars again, reaching his hand out for Zanka.

"C,mon. You wanna hurt somethin so bad then go for it. Share some of that anger with me." 

They stared off for a moment, not breaking eye contact. Two different emotions in their eyes that should have been opposites but instead felt near identical. 

Zanka came back to the bars. It was easier to pretend Jabber was doing this solely for his own wants. And the fact that Zanka knew in his heart that wasn't fully true just made him angrier.

He threaded his fingers through Jabber's and squeezed harshly, using his hand as a stress ball, imagining cracking the bones beneath his grip.

Jabber sucked a breath in through his nose, pleased. 

"There you go. That's better, huh?"

It was.

"I fucking hate you."

"Yeah, yeah." 

Jabber was looking at him with clear adoration. Zanka just squeezed harder, digging his nails in to the back of Jabber's hand until he felt them break skin.

At the feeling, Jabbers smile only grew, showing his teeth to Zanka while he made no move to hurt Zanka back, just letting it be inflicted on him. Indulging in it.

Zanka readjusted slightly to get a better grip and did it again, digging his nails into the already open, crescent shaped wounds. He felt blood bead up around his nails and just barely wet his fingertips, warm and slightly sticky.

Jabber breathed out a sound that made Zanka's stomach flip. 

"Yeah, that's it. Just let go." 

Being close to Jabber always felt like touching a livewire. 

After a minute, gradually, Jabber coerced their joined hands over to his side of the bars, so Zanka was the one reaching through. Zanka moved with him, not letting go or letting up for a second. Jabber kept eye contact as he brought their joined hands up near his mouth and pressed his lips to Zanka's ring finger on the area between Zanka's second and third knuckle. 

Zanka felt like he was on fire. He dug his fingers in harder and felt Jabbers breath rush over his hand as he exhaled sharply through his nose. 

Jabber got a glint in his eye and moved his head an inch lower, tongue darting out to taste the blood where Zanka was digging into him. The feel of his tongue, hot and wet against his fingers, had Zanka ready to do something stupid right then and there. 

In a shocking display of restraint though, Jabber lowered their hands back to center, giving Zanka one last squeeze before letting go, and Zanka did the same, almost in a trance. 

"Feel better now? Got it all outta your system?"

Not nearly.

Zanka just looked at him, trying to figure him out. 

Jabber just grinned, and brought that same hand through the bars again and up near Zanka's face, tucking a piece of stray hair behind his ear. As he did Zanka could see the bloody marks his nails had left on the back of Jabber's hand. He hoped they scarred. 

He swallowed, throat feeling dry. 

Jabber brought his hands back over to his side and raised his eyebrows and Zanka realized he was still waiting for a response.

 "Feel better now?"

Yes. No. He didn't know what he was feeling. He focused on the second part instead.

"Got it all outta your system?"

He took a breath.

"...Yeah. Yeah, I think so." 

Jabber just gave him the same smile he always did when he knew Zanka was lying. 

"Good."

...

The night before they made their final move was thick with tension, anticipation and anxiety rolling through them –or at least Zanka– in equal measure making it hard to sleep, despite knowing they'd need all the rest they could get. 

In the quiet, laying on their backs side by side, with pinkies just barely touching in the space between the bars, Zanka found the strength to ask the question he'd been wondering for a while now, knowing he might not get another chance. 

"So what happens after this?"

There was a moment where Zanka wondered if Jabber actually was asleep before he heard the familiar deep timbre break the silence from next to him. 

"What, after we clean house and burn this dump to the ground?"

Zanka felt a corner of his lip twitch up despite himself. 

"Yea, after all that."

Another second of silence. He knew Jabber understood what he was really asking, but wondered if he'd choose to intentionally misinterpret his question and make a joke in lieu of showing any actual vulnerability, a trick Zanka had long since caught on to. 

Maybe it was because he knew he couldn't get away with it, or because it was their last night, but Jabber didn't pretend to not know what Zanka meant.

"I dunno. What do you want to happen?" A familiar teasing tone Zanka could tell was being used to disguise a genuine question. 

He didn't know. Obviously he'd go back to the Cleaners, and he knew Jabber planned on going right back to the Raiders. Meaning they'd be enemies again. 

"I don't know, kinda feels weird to just...go back to how we-...how everything was before this, ya know?"

"Who says it has to?"

At that he looked to the side, and saw Jabber already looking over at him, eyes always locked in on Zanka and nobody else.

Zanka scoffed.

"And what, we'll have sleepovers and braid each other's hair while our coworkers try an' kill each other?"

"Nah, we'll try and kill each other too. You know damn well fightin ain't fun unless you're really puttin your heart into it Zan-zan." 

"I'm serious, this isn't- ...Once we leave here, we're enemies again."

"Okay, we'll be enemies then. Big deal."

"Yer fucking impossible. Are ya just allergic to taking anything seriously?"

"Nah, I think you just take everything way too seriously. Who cares if we're on opposite sides, who cares what people think? Worryin about that stuff is all so boring. When are you actually gonna start living your life how you want, huh?"

That did hit a nerve.

"Well if its so easy, why don't ya illuminate me on what you want then?"

"Simple, I wanna fight you. I wanna fight you over and over again til you can rock my shit easy. I wanna see you get stronger, really let loose on me. And trust me, I'd love to say the rest of what I wanna do, but I think you'd consider that breakin a certain deal we have." 

"I can't fucking stand you." 

"Liar. Now stop dodging the question. Forget about everyone else. What do you want, Zanka?"

The sound of his actual name coming out of Jabbers mouth instead of that same stupid nickname made him shiver, and he knew Jabber knew it.

What did he want? He used to have such a clear idea, now everything was so complicated. He sure as hell wasn't gonna let Jabber keep holding it over his head though.

"...I wanna get stronger. I wanna be strong enough to beat yer genius ass into the dirt with Assistaff. And I..." He hesitated. Fuck it. He could always blame it on the fever. He linked his pinky with Jabbers, locking them together. Like a promise. "...I wanna keep seein you, alright? Keep talking with you. Even though yer infuriating. And fucking insane. I wanna keep finding different sides of you. I want you to keep bringing out different sides of me. I just...I need to rip you open bit by bit and find out what makes you tick."

Jabber's cheeks were pink, visible even in the permanently dim light of the cell. 

Jabber swallowed, and his voice was breathy.

"Let's do it then. You and me."

He really was a maniac. He hated him. He hoped he never stopped hating him.

"You and me." Zanka responded. "Ya freak." 

"Takes one to know one."

"As if. All it takes is two working eyes fer anyone to see ya and know."

Jabber laughed, not the usual manic sound, but something more mellow that turned partway into a yawn. 

They really did need to get some rest.

Jabber made himself comfortable on the ground again without issue, rapidly returning to the state of half-sleep he'd been in before their conversation started, nodding off at a speed Zanka was jealous of. 

"G'nite Zan-zn" He mumbled as he quickly approached unconsciousness.

Zanka stared at him for a moment longer, just taking him in. 

"Night."

He closed his own eyes, and let sleep take him. 

...


He woke to Jabber shaking his knee. He groaned, rolling out of reach.

"C'mon sleeping beauty, it's go time."

He raised a middle finger towards Jabber's approximate location and kept his head in the crook of his other arm, holding on to blissful darkness for a moment longer.

"You're the one who told me to wake you up early man, don't be such a drama queen."

He had told Jabber to wake him up before breakfast arrived, but it didn't mean he had to be happy about it. 

He let out another big groan and rubbed his eyes. His body wanted more sleep, but he needed to be fully awake and alert for their escape. He also needed to eat, since whatever got delivered would be their last meal, either in the facility or in general, depending on how things went, and they needed all the energy they could get.

...

In the brief period between finishing breakfast and the guards arriving again for Jabber, Zanka went over everything in his head. He'd long since memorized the map to the best of his ability, and while they waited they both stretched, making sure their bodies stayed limber.  

At the distant sound of the door opening at the far left end of the hallway, they both shared a look. 

It was time.

Jabber gave him one last grin from his place at the bars before turning around, and Zanka spoke before he could stop himself, speaking quietly but urgently. 

"Wait!" 

Jabber paused and turned around, confused. 

Zanka put his hand through the bars and on Jabbers cheek. Jabbers eyes widened at the action. 

Don't die on me.

"Don't be fucking stupid, okay?" 

Jabber's grin returned, and he leaned into the touch.

"Kay, I won't. Promise. Now come on."

He nodded and they broke apart, returning to their planned normal positions with time to spare before the guards came into view.

When the guards arrived at the cell door Jabber got up, faking a stretch of sore muscles as he sauntered over towards the back of the cell.

He stood there patiently, hands behind his back, just like he'd done every day for the last week. Lulling the guards into a false sense of security. At first they'd been suspicious, but both Jabber's consistent lewd comments about the cuffs and the fact that it was more work to pick him up off the floor than cuff him while standing had apparently convinced them that the behavior was just part of his normal weirdness, and, more importantly, that they didn't need to sedate him until the cuffs were already on. 

Zanka stayed tensed in the center of his cell, a position that wasn't unusual for him and didn't bring any unwanted attention, and waited. The shorter guard, outside the cell, had his hand hooked in his pocket near the remote but otherwise looked bored. Good.

When the taller guard came up behind Jabber the seconds seemed to stretch on forever. He got close, and reached behind him, grabbing the pair of cuffs, and that was when Jabber struck.

Jabber moved almost faster than Zanka could see, whirling around and slamming a hit into the man's stomach, while at the same time grabbing for his gun. In one motion he got it out of the holster and threw it at Zanka at max speed, weeks of practice allowing him perfect aim through the bars, even with the irregular shape. The same practice let Zanka catch it with ease, clicking the safety off as he quickly raised it with both hands and fired two shots into the chest of the shorter guard outside the cell without hesitation. 

When they'd first made their plan he'd thought about going for the head, but he hadn't shot a gun in a long while, and with his injuries he could be somewhat shaky at times. It seemed he needn't have worried about his marksmanship though, both bullets ripping right through the center of the guards heart, exactly where he'd aimed. 

The shorter guard collapsed onto the ground, hands spasming, seemingly incapable of deciding if they wanted to move to the remote, gun, or his own wound. Zanka didn't give him the chance to choose, leveling his aim and sending a single shot through his forehead to finish him off. 

He turned then, to where Jabber was still wrestling with the taller guard while holding Zanka's remote, and after waiting just a moment to make sure he wouldn't shoot Jabber by mistake, he let loose another shot that connected through the side of the mans shoulder, the shock and pain of it allowing Jabber to kick him off of him. Now with a clear shot, he put the gun in between the bars and fired once more into the guards head, killing him instantly. 

They took a second to breathe, the sound of the gunshots having caused a ringing in his ears, and even through the adrenaline he could tell the recoil had been hell on his shoulder. He'd done it though. They were dead.

"Damn, you weren't kidding. You really are good with that thing."

Jabber's voice was slightly muffled, but cleared up quickly. He looked excited, eyes wide and grin absolutely feral, and Zanka pointedly did not look down to see if any other part of him was "excited". 

Even with their breather, it had been maybe 10-15 seconds since the entire thing had started, and Jabber didn't waste any more time, grabbing the cell key and keycard from the body of the taller guard and moving over towards his door, Zanka's remote in one hand and the key to the cell in the other.

After a moment of finagling from the inside Jabber managed to turn the key and get the cell to open up, walking free into the hallway for the first time. He stepped over the shorter guard's body and moved in front of Zanka's cell.

For a moment, Zanka's brain reminded him that Jabber could technically just leave him here now that he was free. Maybe before all of this he might have. But now, Zanka knew with absolute certaintly he wouldn't, a fact that was proven right when Jabber unlocked and swung open the door to his cell. 

"Guess I'm like your prince charming, huh?" He joked, backlit from the lights of the hallway.

Zanka thought about retorting how he was the furthest thing from charming, or how he'd been the one to actually take the guards out, but instead he just looked at Jabber standing in front of him, taking him in without anything in the way.

They'd stood much closer in the prior week, but without the separation of the bars the space between felt different, more intimate. 

Jabber was looking right back at him, eyes looking up and down Zanka, always coming  back to linger on his lips, never one to hide what he wanted.

He wanted it too.

Zanka wasn't sure who moved first, but they met in the middle, mouths crashing together as they did. 

He dug his fingers in to the skin at Jabbers waist with a bruising grip while Jabber slung his arms around the back of Zanka's neck. It was uncoordinated, and messy, and good. He felt Jabber grin slightly against his lips as he used his grip to pull them even closer. 

They broke apart after only a couple seconds, Zanka pulling back first with Jabber chasing his lips for a second, breaths fanning over each other. Jabber looked as messed up as Zanka felt, face red and looking maybe higher than Zanka had ever seen him, which was saying something. 

"Damn, you been holdin out on me, Mr. Bad Attitude. We gotta do that more often."

"Later. We're gettin outta here." 

At the promise of "later", Jabber's crazed smile only grew. Still, Zanka couldn't bring himself to regret his slip of the tongue. 

"Lead the way then."

Chapter Text

They stepped out of the cell together, and Zanka looked around the hallway. The fact that no one had burst through the doors yet with guns blazing was a good sign, but they needed to be precious with their time regardless. His eyes fell on the body –the corpse– of the shorter guard, small puddles of blood leaking from the hole in their forehead and the two matching ones in their chest. Their eyes were still open.

He'd been trained on how to take a life, it had been expected of him. But somehow this was the first time he'd ever actually done it. He expected more horror, more disgust at himself, something. But all he felt looking at the body was a dark satisfaction, and that realization troubled him more than the killing had. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not when their deaths meant him and Jabber's freedom. Not when they deserved it. 

He crouched down and pulled the keycard lanyard off the guards neck, grabbing the remote and cell key –just in case– and attaching them to his belt, before taking the gun and checking it.

It was the same type of pistol as the other guard's, probably 9mm, and he took out the magazine to check the bullets. Only 6 rounds, meaning the gun he'd gotten from the taller guard only had one left. He'd been hoping it was one of the models that held more, but he supposed it made sense for them to carry a gun with limited ammo given everything. They had other ways of neutralizing them, and in any situation where they needed to fire they likely wouldn't need more than 12 combined bullets, and if one of the guns ever got grabbed by a prisoner, 6 bullets wouldn't be enough to fully escape with. 

They really had thought of everything. (Well, almost everything.)

He took one round out of the mag and loaded it into the gun he'd used to shoot the guards, before standing back up and handing it to Jabber.

"Here, this one's got two shots in it. Don't be stupid with 'em." 

Jabber had been watching him the whole time, face flushed as he licked his lips.

"You really know your way around those things. Not gonna lie, watching you take 'em apart and put 'em back together with that cold look is really turning me on."

Zanka ignored him, as well as the heat that spiked through his stomach both at the words and the memory of how Jabber's body had felt pressed up against his. That was an issue for later. 

Instead, he turned Jabber's remote over in his hands, looking at it intently. There were only the two buttons, and the back didn't show anything interesting either. There was a large circular port on the bottom he'd never been able to see, maybe for charging, since it didn't seem like there were any batteries? Wait. His eyes widened.

"Jabber, turn around."

Jabber, who seemed to be getting more worked up the longer Zanka looked at and touched his remote, blinked in surprise at the command then turned around immediately.

"Oh? Man, that didn't take much, not that I'm complaining~"

He moved Jabber's locs away with one hand as he brought the remote to the back of the collar with the other. The cylindrical extrusion at the back fit perfectly into the port at the bottom of the remote, and as he pressed them together he almost couldn't believe his ears as a click sounded and the collar unlatched, hinging open at the sides. 

Jabber was apparently shocked into silence as well and Zanka removed the collar the rest of the way. When he pulled the back half of the collar off towards himself he noticed a thick needle come out of the back of Jabber's neck with it. Jabber shivered at the feeling. 

A few inches to the right of the small hole the needle had left were dual red marks that looked pretty nasty but didn't break the skin, and he realized that must have been where the prongs for the electricity had sat. He couldn't help but run his fingers over them and Jabber breathed out a groan. Zanka felt his cheeks burn and he pulled his hand away and stepped back, just stopping himself from apologizing on instinct. He knew Jabber wouldn't want it, and he wasn't actually that sorry anyways. 

Jabber turned around and brought the hand that wasn't holding Zanka's remote to his neck, rubbing the bare skin like he couldn't quite believe it.

"Damn it feels good to finally get that thing off. Did you know they could do that?" Jabber said, pointing at the remote. 

Zanka just shook his head.

"Nope, didn't have any idea til I took a closer look at it."

Maybe it was the sudden hope that filled him from having a way to get the collars off, or the fever, but he felt elated, and flashed a teasing smile at Jabber.

"Surprised ya didn't notice yourself, Mr. Genius. Maybe you're losing yer touch." 

Jabber looked ecstatic, matching his challenge.

"Hey now, you're talkin pretty big game for a guy who's still got that collar on." Jabber held the remote up, teasingly waving it in front of Zanka's face while he took a step closer. "Maybe I'll just take this with me and leave you like that." 

"Maybe I'll shoot ya through the hand and take it myself." Zanka grinned as he took a step closer too, eliminating any space between them. 

"Fuck, maybe you will." 

Jabber's forearms, which had been holding the remote above Zankas head, now rested over his shoulders, an echo of their positions during the kiss. 

Their noses were almost touching and Zanka could feel him speak.

"So, do I get that 'please' now?"

Zanka took his left hand and held Jabber's hip, using his thumb to push the edge of the fabric up and rub circles into the skin below, making Jabber shiver. With his right hand he took his gun and pressed the muzzle up against Jabber's stomach, still smiling.

"Don't test yer luck." 

Jabber seemingly couldn't contain himself any longer, taking the lead this time and moving forward to press their lips together again. Zanka let him, indulging for just a moment in the feeling. It was less aggressive, less rushed, but no less passionate than the one that came before. 

Zanka felt his own collar unlock while they kissed, moving against each other, until the buzzing sound of an incoming message from the guards' chokers made them part. Jabber untangled his arms from over his shoulders and Zanka took a step back, feeling slightly dizzy. But that was probably just the fever. Probably. 

Zanka fully opened and pulled off his collar, wincing slightly at the strange feeling of the needle sliding out, before tossing it to the floor. He rubbed at the sensitive skin at the front of his neck where the collar had laid and let out a pleased hum at the feeling. Jabber was right, it did feel really good to have it off.

He looked back over to see Jabber smirking at him, eyebrows slightly raised. Zanka flushed.

"Shut up."

Jabber laughed.

"Aw c'mon, I didn't even say anything!"

"I could see it on yer stupid face. Now lets go, you got your gun?"

Jabber pulled it out from the back of his waistband proudly.

"Got it right here."

"Fucking-" Zanka grabbed it and flipped the safety on and then off again, showing Jabber as he did. "make sure this is on when you do that or you're gonna shoot a hole through your ass." 

"You speakin from experience?"

"Ha ha. Yer hilarious." He deadpanned, and Jabber blew a kiss at him in return. "Now come on, seriously."

They made their way down the hall until they reached the security doors and scanned the one on the right open, making sure it was clear before moving into it, the door closing behind them.

It was eerie to be in the silence of the lab corridors. Their instruments had to be around nearby, and they shared a nod as they split up to look for them. 

Zanka moved through the halls methodically, pressing his ear against doors to make sure they weren't occupied before scanning them open and checking the inside. Some were broom closets, some were labs, some just held chemicals. One had voices inside, and he mentally marked it before moving on to the next ones, planning on coming back if he didn't find their instruments. 

A couple times he saw Jabber, moving through a hallway parallel to his, and he gave Zanka a wave before creeping silently into a room. Idiot.

He'd just finished checking an empty lab, the only door in a dead-end hallway, when he heard footsteps approach. Shit. With no other choice he ducked back in to the room he'd just left out of and it clicked shut behind him, traitorously loud. The footsteps outside, though heavily muffled through the door, paused. And then continued to get closer. Damn, it seemed their good luck of not drawing attention to themselves so far was about to end. 

He moved behind a benchtop, gun at the ready.

The door opened and the sound of someone stepping slowly and cautiously into the lab followed. The door closed behind them, and after they took a few more steps he sprung up, pointing his gun at them.

"Don't move!"

It was a woman, maybe around Enjins age, clearly well built, with a puffy bob of dark purple hair, wearing the same labcoat and insignia as the old man and blow dart guy had. Bob girl. Zanka could have laughed at how accurate Jabber's terrible description actually was. 

She held a remote in her hands, and upon seeing Zanka without a collar her jaw clenched, clearly re-evaluating her options. 

Unlike the other woman, he could tell by look alone that she was very much a threat, and by the way she was sizing him up, it seemed she was doing the same. She looked at Zanka's face, then at the gun, then back to his face, lingering there, studying his expression for something. Zanka held it steady, ready to shoot if she made even a single wrong move. 

She apparently was well-trained enough to know when she was in a situation where being rash would get her killed, and raised her hands, palms facing Zanka, as she dropped the remote, not that it would have helped her anyways. 

"Okay." She said evenly, keeping her eyes on Zanka. "What do you want?" 

"Where are our instruments being held. And don't try and tell me you don't know." 

The briefest hint of curiosity shined in her eyes at Zanka's use of "our" –he really hated scientists– before she seemed to think up an answer.  

"It would be easier for me to show you, I'll take y-"

"Not a chance. Tell me now, or I'm pulling the trigger." 

Zanka was glad she was clearly smart. Glad she was able to read an enemy well. Because when she looked into his eyes he knew she would be able to tell he wasn't bluffing in the slightest. 

"...Fine. They're in a room two hallways to the right from here. First door on the left, room 068A. They're in the first locker on the right side."

"And the exits?"

"There's two. One in sector A and one in sector D, but you knew that already." 

Damnit. 

He tightened his grip on the gun, and she just raised her hands higher.

"I'm just being honest with you."

"Where's the old man?"

"In his office, waiting for the guards to secure subj- ...to give him the okay to enter the lab. He sent me out to check on them."

"What room?"

"047."

"And the blow dart guy?"

She huffed a small laugh at the nickname, mouthing 'blow dart guy' as she shook her head before looking back up at Zanka.

"Couldn't tell you, Ivan doesn't do his experiments until later. He could be in the dorms or in one of the other labs, I wouldn't know. We're not close."

"Anything else?"

"Maybe. But first I need your word you won't just kill me once I tell you."

He stared her down and she stared back. 

"Fine," Zanka eventually said. "I won't kill you. But only if it's worth it."

"Fair enough." She shrugged. "I'm gonna reach into my pocket now, don't shoot."

He kept the gun trained on her chest.

"Slowly." 

With one hand she slowly reached into her right pocket, pulling out a ring of car keys on a clip with two fingers and throwing them to the floor by Zanka's feet.

"Those are for one of the trucks, parked on the left side, fourth space in. They also open the lockers. That's worth a life, yeah?"

Zanka picked up the keys, keeping the gun trained on her. They stared off for a moment longer before Zanka lowered the gun slightly and her shoulders relaxed just an inch. 

Then, before she could do anything else he pulled the trigger and shot a bullet through her left kneecap. 

She cursed as she fell, grabbing her leg in pain as blood started to pool around her.

"You- goddammit! We had a DEAL!"

Zanka just stared at her, not able to conjure up any sympathy for the person who had destroyed a piece of Mankira. Who would probably do the same to Assistaff given the chance. 

"I said I wouldn't kill you. And I won't." 

Zanka moved towards the door and kicked the back of his heel against it twice. 

"But only cause yer not mine to kill anyway." 

After a moment, two knocks sounded out and the door opened behind him. Jabber stepped in, grinning as he saw Zanka standing with the gun. 

"Yo, who'd you- oh shit!" 

"All yours." Zanka said, motioning towards the still prone and bleeding scientist. "I'm gonna go check somethin out." 

Jabber looked at Zanka like he'd hung the moon in the sky himself, and Zanka turned out of the room before he did something that cost them even more time. 

...

He followed the directions the woman had given him until he ended up at a door marked 068A. This was it. He scanned in, gun raised and on high alert in case it had been a trap, but the room was quiet, and lo and behold, there were tall lockers to his right.

They needed a physical key instead of the card and for a moment he considered just shooting the lock before he remembered the set of keys the woman had tossed him. He unclipped them from his belt and looked through them before finding one that looked like the right size, and slid it in to the lock. It turned and he heard a glorious click. Zanka wrenched open the door, revealing Lovely Assistaff in all her glory, Mankira sitting on a built in shelf behind her. 

He shoved the gun in the side of his waistband as he grabbed Lovely Assistaff instead, holding her tight to his chest, not wanting to ever let go again. He moved his hands over her injuries, taking stock of them in a way he hadn't been able to in the lab. A few of them were pretty rough, and the burn at the bottom had gone through the lacquer deeper than he thought, but she was okay. She would be okay, he could fix her. He could do anything now that he just had her back. He pressed her to his forehead and on the bridge of his nose, inhaling. Centering himself. He was whole again. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Thank you for lasting this long." He whispered, trying to press each word into the wood itself. 

He looked over then at Mankira, the nine rings sitting there with a patience their user distinctly lacked, and he picked them up gently. Even if he'd never seen Jabber use them he would still be able to tell they were a vital instrument, even just holding them he could slightly feel the energy of their soul. 

"Sorry, we'll get you back to him real quick. Promise. He wants to see you too."

Holding them, he realized he had a problem. He couldn't hold Assistaff and the gun if he wanted to carry Jabber's rings, and even if he kept the gun in his waistband he couldn't fight with Assistaff to the fullest with one hand, especially not while one of his shoulders still ached. Normally if he needed to carry something he could put it in his satchel or one of the pouches strapped to his thighs, but both had been taken from him before he woke up in the cell for the first time. He could try and attach them to one of his belts, like he had with the cell and car keys, but unlike with the other two he didn't really have a good way of doing that. 

He looked around for something he could use to secure them to his belt, maybe a rope or string he could thread through them? Maybe some sort of bag? But he didn't see anything. It felt a bit silly to look so hard for something to carry an object that was meant to be worn, but they weren't just normal rings. They were Mankira. They were Jabber's.

Zanka putting them on would be crossing a line for sure, the only question was what kind. But it wasn't like he had much choice, and hopefully, if Jabber was mad, having his treasure back in his possession at last would probably help calm it. 

He slipped the rings on, the cold metal heavy against his fingers. It felt weird, but strangely it didn't feel wrong, like Mankira was allowing it for now, just as anxious to get back to Jabber as he was. 

He looked in the locker again, part of him hoping he'd find Mankira's tenth and final ring. But there was nothing else. Even as unused to her as he was Zanka could feel the unbalanced absence of the last ring on his left hand. For Jabber it would probably be even worse. 

But he couldnt worry about that now, for now he just needed to get back to Jabber with their instruments so they could continue getting out. 

He transformed Lovely Assistaff, feeling the power of her soul even through the metal of Jabber's rings, and held her with both hands, gun staying tucked into his waist. It was probably better to have the gun in hand instead, as in the small space of the hallways he couldn't swing her all that effectively, but logic was overruled by how much he needed to have her in his grip.

He opened the door and peeked out into the hallway, making sure it was clear, and then started quietly running, retracing his steps back to where Jabber and the woman were. 

...

When Zanka arrived he could hear muffled sounds of violence though the door. He took a few seconds to catch his breath. Running back had taken a bit more out of him than he'd expected with the infection. He gave two knocks, and the sounds stopped for a moment before he got two hits on the door in return and he opened it, stepping in. 

Jabber stood there, hands bloody, with crazed eyes and a manic grin, and seemed to just barely come back to himself when he saw Zanka holding Lovely Assistaff. His eyes zeroed in on Zanka's hands, on the rings resting there, and his eyes widened. 

"Mankira." Jabber breathed, quieter than Zanka had ever heard him.

Jabber rushed forward, taking Zanka's hands in his, and pressed them to his own chest, like Zanka had done for Assistaff, holding them there and tucking his head onto them. Assistaff stood in the space between their two bodies, leaned up against one of Zanka's now outstretched arms.

After a few moments Jabber moved Zanka's hands back out in front of him, threading their fingers together, looking between Mankira and Zanka both. Jabber swallowed, breathless. 

"She looks good on you."

Okay, not mad then. Very much not mad. Zanka avoided Jabber's eyes, sure his face was bright red. 

"Yeah well, I'm sure she'd rather be back with you than me, so don't make her wait any longer."

Jabber looked at him with something that held way too much emotion as Zanka disentangled their fingers and carefully began to remove Mankira one by one starting with his right hand, giving them to Jabber as he did. 

When he got to the very last one, the left ring finger, he took it off and before he could hand it over, Jabber got a glint in his eye and dropped down on one knee, holding Zanka's right hand, which was still holding the ring. 

He maneuvered Zanka's hand until the ring was at the tip of Jabber's left ring finger, and it wasnt until then that Zanka put together what their positions were emulating.

Jabber looked up at him from his spot on one knee like he was proposing, left hand held out in the air, waiting for Zanka to push the final ring onto his finger, hands still covered in blood.

Zanka felt like he was going to explode.

"You- I-" He sputtered, and felt something swell up in his chest. Jabber was still looking at him with that stupid, loving look. "God. You're so fucking annoying. And it's supposed to be the other way around, ya know." 

Zanka's voice was filled with the same emotion Jabber's gaze was. 

Jabber smiled.

"What, you want me to put her back on you? Or find something else?"

"Nah."

He yanked a surprised Jabber back up to his feet with his free hand, and then dropped down himself, putting one knee on the ground, reversing their positions. Before Jabber could recover, Zanka finally completed the motion, sliding the final ring onto Jabber's finger, looking up into his eyes. 

"There. That's better." 

Jabber just stared at him, mouth agape. He brought his free hand up to cover his mouth as it turned into a smile that stretched across most of his face.

"You just keep surprising me, dontcha, Mr. Bad Attitude?"

Zanka returned it, and got back up with the help of Assistaff. 

"Someone's gotta keep ya on your toes." 

A wet gurgle from behind Jabber made Zanka jump and Jabber spin around.

Oh, right, the woman. Whoops. 

Jabber walked back over to her, activating Mankira as he did. Even stuck in her smaller form, even missing a claw, she'd never looked so beautiful.

"Awww don't worry, I didn't forget about you. Hey. Look what I've got." He tapped Mankira against each other, and at the sound the woman tried to move away. Her face was a bloody mess, and at least one arm was broken that Zanka could see, not to mention the state of her fingers. Jabber crouched down and put his claws in her mouth. "I think you owe Mankira here an apology. Go ahead, say you're sorry."

The woman made some sort of noise around the claws, but it was impossible to discern if it was an apology, a plead, or a curse. She cracked a swollen eye open and looked behind Jabber, staring pleadingly at Zanka.

"Nah, c'mon, don't look at him now, he's not gonna save you, are ya Zan-zan?" 

He met her eyes, remembering Jabber curled up against the bars.

"Nope." 

The woman tried to say something else, but it seemed Jabber was done listening. 

"Hmmm yeah, I don't think Mankira accepts your apology. And neither do I."

And with that, Jabber sent his claws all the way through, finishing her off for good and her body went limp. He pulled his claws out of her still open mouth and flicked the blood off them, turning back to Zanka. 

"All right, what's next? You find the exit?"

"Not yet, but I did find the old man. Sorta."

"What are we waiting for then?" Jabber took Zanka's hand in his, Mankira still activated, but Zanka knew she wouldn't hurt him right now, and neither would Jabber. "Let's go~"

...

The old man's office was harder to find than he thought it would be, and he regretted not getting clearer directions out of the woman. Too late for that now.

They reached a new area, and both decided to split up again, using the same system of knocks to tell each other what rooms they were in and whether to be on guard when entering. 

Zanka weaved around the hallways as quick as he could while still being thorough, having to backtrack a couple times to look again at room numbers his feverish mind glazed over, not wanting to miss room 047, when a door suddenly opened near him. He ducked behind a wall as it swung open, and after a second he peeked out to see who it was.

Repressed rage suddenly bubbled up to the surface at once as he realized it was the blow dart guy, Ivar, or whatever his name was –ugh, now he was starting to sound like Jabber– and Zanka stepped into the hallway, holding Assistaff out in front of him. 

It was time for a rematch. 

At the sound, the man turned towards him and their eyes met. He looked Zanka up and down quickly, noting his weapon and lack of collar, body tensed.

And then in an instant he turned heel and sprinted away. 

"Wha- HEY!! Get back here!" Zanka yelled as he chased. 

The man was quick, and took lots of turns, clearly knowing the halls better than Zanka, and it made it hard to keep up, especially with his fever. 

The man yelled something about how Zanka had breached containment into his choker –damn it– as he turned another corner, before a sound of impact and a body crashing into the floor echoed just out of sight. Zanka rounded the corner, panting, and there was Jabber, standing over the body of blow dart guy with Mankira out.

"Oh hey, Zan-zan, you're never gonna guess wha-"

"Is he dead??"

Jabber paused at Zanka's desperate anger.

"Uhhh, I don't think so? Not yet at least, I mean he ran straight into Mankira's right claws, but I think he only got a baby dose."

"Good." 

Jabber tilted his head.

"Huh, what'd he do to- wait, is this blow dart guy??"

Zanka nodded, watching the guy in question writhe on the floor, clearly trying to fight off Jabber's toxins with minimal success. 

"Oh shit! My bad, my bad, lemme fix that for ya." 

He leaned over and pricked blow dart guy with his left hand, the pain reliever, and the man took a few shuddering breaths. 

"It's not at full strength since the shit they gave me doesn't work as well as my own, but I'm sure you don't mind, right?" 

"I can deal." Zanka muttered as he walked over to the man still laying on the floor.

He seemed to finally be getting his bearings back, and he looked up at Zanka from his hand and knees, horrified. 

"Listen," He panted. "we can talk about this, I can get you out, or-"

Zanka kicked him underneath his jaw, sending him flying onto his back. He twirled Assistaff, walking forward as the man scrambled back. 

"On a scale of one to ten, how much do you think it's gonna hurt when Lovely Assistaff beats yer sorry ass to death?" 

"Please, just-"

He swung Assistaff, one of her blades on the side slicing a clean line from shoulder to hip, not enough to kill, but enough to hurt. Enough to near-instantly soak the front of his pristine white labcoat in blood. 

"Fuck!" 

"Where's the old man."

Blow dart guy just looked back up at him, hands pressed against his own wound futilely, doing nothing to stop the bloodflow. His voice shook as he talked.  

"You're just going to kill me anyway. What does it matter."

He swung Assistaff in almost a full arc over his head, slamming her down on his other shoulder, avoiding slicing him with the blades and instead hitting him with the blunt metal, shattering his collarbone.

He spat out curses in a language Zanka didn't recognize, collapsing forward.

"It matters cause I can kill you fast. Or, we can do an endurance test."

The man looked up at him with the same helpless panic Zanka knew he'd had on his own face when they'd hurt Assistaff. But this time, instead of the look being met with vaguely curious, scientific detachment, Zanka met his pleading gaze with a righteous fury, an anger that threatened to consume him whole. And he let it. 

"Now, where is he?"

Jabber whistled from behind him.

The man panted, tears escaping from the corner of his eyes. 

"Look. The exit is just down that way." He said, taking one hand off his injured shoulder to point behind him and to his left. "Take my keycard, and-"

"No it isn't."  Came Jabber's voice from behind Zanka, and they both moved their heads to look at him.

He was smiling, sitting with his legs crossed on the floor, watching with his jaw propped up by one of hands, Mankira still activated. 

"I found the exit like a few minutes ago, man. It's the complete other way."

"You found the exit?" Zanka asked, fully turning his body around to face Jabber.

"Yup!" He replied, popping the p. "Found some guy who told me where the old man's office was too, I was comin to getcha when this dude ran into me, and then you were all pissed off and it was pretty hot so I decided to just wait 'til after you were-"

The sound of something flying through the air caught Zanka's attention, just like it had on the day he'd been taken, and he turned around faster than he could think, moving Assistaff as he did, and sliced through a syringe in midair that had been headed to the back of his neck. Not this time. 

The contents of the syringe spilled out onto the floor, and it sunk in what had happened. That son of a bitch. 

Dart guy cursed, still trying to shuffle backwards, and raised the blowgun back up to his mouth with his uninjured arm. Zanka surged forward, swinging Assistaff upwards as he did, and her blade cleanly sliced the tube in half longways, severing it, and with it, all of the fingers on his hand. 

The man screamed and keeled over, his bloody hand pressed against his stomach, and Zanka continued his momentum into a partial spin and hit him with the staff again, slamming him sideways into the wall. The noise stopped as he laid crumpled on his side, either passed out or dead. 

In the distance, he heard people moving, getting closer. Whatever backup he'd called for had apparently finally gotten to the labs. 

Zanka shoved him onto his back with his boot as he stood over the prone body of the man, echoing the positions they'd been in when he'd first gotten hit with the dart on that hill, and finally did what he'd wanted to do back then, moving the head of Assistaff toward him, and sending her spikes forward through his torso without hesitation. Zanka retracted the spikes and blood flowed freely. 

If he wasn't dead before, he was now. 

He turned back to Jabber, who had gotten to his feet. 

"Pretty good reflexes there, good save! Didn't even see him pull out that dart thing. Shame you had to end it early, that was fun to watch."

"Surprised you're not jealous or something."

"Ehhh, only a bit. I know you'll get me even better later, and besides, I got a pretty good consolation prize." He said, wiggling the finger Zanka had put Mankira on during their faux-proposal.

Zanka just rolled his eyes, ignoring the fondness that he felt while doing so. 

"So where's the exit?"

Jabber pointed to what was now Zankas right, the opposite direction of the still-increasing noise of people approaching. 

"Over there, buut," Jabber paused. "The old dude's office is over that way." He pointed to Zanka's left. "And I know his ass is still in there. Or at least he was when I checked. So what do you wanna do? We playin it safe or gettin revenge?" 

Jabber was leaving it up to him then. The smart thing to do would be to leave. To get out while they could. There was no telling what would happen if they stayed, and there was every chance one of them could die, or both. Or worse. 

He looked down at Lovely Assistaff, thinking about the damage. Thinking about the fire. About every promise he'd made watching it happen. He looked over at Jabber, who was waiting for his answer with a surprisingly non-judgemental look on his face. He really would go with whatever Zanka decided. Finally, Zanka looked at Mankira, at her missing claw, and then back to Assistaff. He had his answer. 

"We're killin him. And everyone else we can too while we're at it. He's not livin another single god damn day, and then we're gonna burn this shithole to the ground behind us."  

Jabber grinned.

"I was hoping you'd say that! Man I love it when you go all scorched earth, really gets a guy goin!" 

Jabber led them through the halls. It was a miracle he'd managed to find the office and exit to begin with given his terrible sense of direction, and he took a couple wrong turns and did some backtracking that had Zanka regretting his decision to stay in the facility. But still, they managed to avoid any of the new arrivals, though there were a couple close calls, and eventually, Zanka caught sight of a door marked 047 just as they were about to make another wrong turn, and grabbed Jabber's sleeve, pointing to it. 

Zanka moved Assistaff to his left hand and pulled his gun out, just in case the old man was armed on the other side of the door, and nodded to Jabber as he scanned the card and swiftly pushed it open for Zanka, both of them moving in, Zanka first and Jabber close behind. 

The office was relatively small, and looked like it was half library and half lab, with shelves of notebooks and files that almost reached the ceiling and various bottles and vials of strange liquids, some contained in a fume hood on the left wall, but most scattered around everywhere with an organization system that, if it existed, was foreign to Zanka. The chaotic room stood as a sharp juxtaposition to the near obsessive neatness of the labs. 

The old man had their back to them when they entered, returning –or possibly taking out– a notebook from a shelf behind his desk. At the sound of the door opening, he turned.

"Ah, Elia, is he back in-" 

All the blood drained from his face at the sight of them. 

Zanka kept the gun leveled at him with his right arm. Assistaff, standing transformed in all her glory, was planted at his side on his left. Jabber came up behind Zanka, looping his arms around Zanka's waist and hooking his chin over Zanka's shoulder, grinning at the old man as he waved with Mankira. 

"Heyyy old dude, hope you didn't miss us too much, we wanted to come say hi!"

The old man seemed completely lost for words, staring between them and their instruments like he refused to believe it. 

"What, cat got yer tougue?" Drawled Zanka, and Jabber laughed.

The old man gulped, and finally seemed to find his voice. 

"...Gentlemen. We're all adults here, I'm sure we can talk this out if-"

He was cut off by Zanka and Jabber speaking simultaneously. 

"Nah."

"Nope!"

The old man swallowed again. 

"...Listen. You have to understand. I'm not an evil man. The things I have to do, its all for the good of hu-"

"Booooorrriiiiinggg" Groaned Jabber. "Hey Zan-zan, can we kill this guy already?" 

"Don't know why yer askin me, I'm not yer keeper."

"Aw, don't say that, you're a keeper alright~" Teased Jabber, lips way too close to Zanka's sensitive neck. 

Zanka stomped on his right foot harshly and Jabber sucked in a pained breath, laughing on the exhale. 

"Damn, those heels 'a yours really pack a punch. You gonna carry me outta here if I can't walk?" 

Zanka grinned sharply, looking down at him out of the corner of his eye. 

"Suck it up."

The old man just stared at them, horrified. 

"You're both completely insane."

Again they spoke at the same time, Zanka glaring while he shot back "You're one to talk." and Jabber cooing an "Awww, you think so?" and tilting his head where it still rested on Zanka's shoulder. 

Zanka tried to step on Jabbers foot again but he moved it out of the way at the last second, laughing. 

"Gotta be quicker than that, Mr. Bad Attitude, and besides, we got a much better target right in front of us." That they did. "I'll even let you have first dibs." 

"How generous." Zanka said with an eyeroll, clicking the safety back on the gun and tucking it in his waistband once more as Jabber untangled himself from Zanka and took a few steps back, leaning casually against the door with his arms crossed. 

Zanka moved Assistaff to be held in both hands, taking a step towards. 

The old man took a step back and to the side, trying to keep the desk between him and Zanka as he held up his hands, panicked. 

"If you would just hear me out- the Cleaners want less trash beasts, right?? And the Raiders, you all only hire givers don't you?! We all have something to gain here if you'd just listen to-!"

Zanka swung Lovely Assistaff sideways over the desk, not caring what he knocked over as papers flew into the air and the staff connected just below the old man's ribcage, one of her spikes on the bottom sinking into him and then ripping out to the side as the momentum sent him to the floor and he screamed. Zanka was done listening. 

The old man, from his place on the ground, seemed almost more concerned with the books and papers Zanka had dislodged and torn than he did with his own injury, crawling to his knees and reaching out for the papers with one hand as he kept the other pressed to the bleeding gash in his side. 

"No!" 

He reached for the partially ripped notebooks on the ground, trying to move them out of the growing puddles of whatever liquids had been contained in the jars and vials that now laid shattered on the ground.

"No, no no!"

The sight of him ignoring them, reaching for the notebooks instead, filled Zanka with anger, and he moved around the desk until he was right next to him and stepped on the old man's outstretched left hand, making it press into a piece of broken glass that was below it. 

The old man finally looked up at Zanka then, and only got to see a millisecond of Assistaff moving towards him as Zanka swung her like a club into his trapped arm, hearing a sickening crack as the bones snapped, forced to bend a direction they weren't supposed to. 

The old man screamed in pain, and without an arm to hold him up, he crashed face first into the floor, landing on more tiny shards of broken glass, no doubt covered in whatever suspicious liquids they'd contained. 

The man rolled himself over, heaving out sobs as he still bled from his side.

"You don't get it, you just don't get it! I'm trying to help! I'm trying to improve society at large!!"

Jabber had been right, the old man really was weak. Two hits and he was already done for, crying, throwing a tantrum on the floor. A third would probably just kill him. 

He gripped Assistaff, remembering everything he'd gone through –everything they'd all gone through– at the hands of a pathetically weak old man. An old man who wouldn't stop talking, yelling hysterically between sobs.

"Trash beasts are a plague!! Humanity must evolve! And if I have to-" 

Zanka swung Assistaff, not towards the old man, but instead at the bookshelves behind him, slicing through them and sending it all crashing to the floor, along with whatever bottles it held on top. 

The old man yelled like he was the one being hit and Zanka didn't stop there, continuing to swing her around the room, destroying everything he could. He swung her over and over again with a fervor, ripping apart wood and paper alike, shattering glass and cracking plastic, until Zanka was breathing hard and felt like he needed to sit down. 

A hand on his right shoulder had him whirling around, anger reigniting, until he saw it was Jabber, looking at him with a half-grin and palms now raised up placatingly in the air.

"Easy there tough guy, remember to leave some for me." 

Right. Right. He wasn't the only one there for revenge. 

He tried to slow his breathing, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. 

"I'm done. He's all yours." 

"Lucky me." 

Despite his easygoing tone Jabber kept his eyes on Zanka for a moment longer, even as he moved forward, until he crossed over in front of Zanka and finally addressed the old man.

"Y'know, I've been wondering, y'all pumped a lotta new poisons in me. You ever tried any of 'em yourself? If you're all about science, seems like that would be the best way to really know what they're all about, I mean, thats what I do, y'know?" 

The old man didn't answer from his spot on the floor, half-buried in the wreckage of the room, shaking, probably in shock. 

"But you don't really seem like the type to be able to enjoy it like I do, so you must be real serious about this whole 'pursuit of knowledge' thing, right? To put yourself through that?" Jabber laughed, and it was sharp. "Thing is though, I don't think you have. I think you talk pretty big game, sayin' the pain is worth the results, but you wouldn't really know, huh? Nah, for folks like you, its a lot easier to inflict pain on others instead 'a yourself cause you don't know what it feels like."

Jabber crouched down, Mankira's claws at the old man's neck, lined up with where the collar would have been if he'd had one.

"Lemme show you."

And with that, he poked the claws in. Not deep, not enough to kill, not even deep enough to impart a lethal dose, but all the same the old man seized up immediately, shaking intensifying, as wordless sounds of pain left him. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Disappointing." He turned back to Zanka, standing up. "You 'bout ready to get outta here?" 

Zanka looked at the old man, then at Jabber. 

"You're not gonna finish him off?"

"Nah, I got somethin else in mind." 

Jabber reached over to a half broken bottle and gave it a sniff.

"Yeah, this oughta do!"

Zanka watched curiously as he poured what was left of the bottle on a pile of loose papers, then sparked his claws against each other until suddenly the small pile went up in flames.

Zanka stepped back on instinct and swore, pulling Lovely Assistaff away, even though she was already transformed.

"Shit! A little warning next time!"

"Sorry, sorry, my bad." Jabber laughed, sounding mostly genuine. "You ready to go?"

Zanka looked back at the old man, who was still shaking, paralyzed on the floor. Part of him felt sick. It really was a horrific thing to do to somebody, no matter who it was. If the cleaners ever found out...if Enjin ever found out...

"Too much? I can go finish him off right now if you want, won't take much."

He looked at the fire, which was now slowly spreading, igniting the paper and wood around it. A small piece of bookshelf popped as it burned and he remembered the nightmare, remembered the tests with the burner, remembered the current state of Lovely Assistaff, what he knew he'd see as soon as he released her. The helplessness as he couldn't move his body and could only watch flame consume her. 

"Nah. Leave him. We're going."

He hoped the old man could hear him. Hoped he could hear Zanka's words, which had been useless and powerless for so long, being the the final nail in the coffin, the very thing that locked him into his grim fate. 

Jabber laced their hands together again as they walked out the door, letting it close behind them. Leaving the old man, and the fire, behind.

Zanka would probably regret it in the future. Would probably hate himself for it. This wasn't like hurting Jabber. It wasn't even like killing the other scientists, or the guards. He'd done something truly horrific. Something irredeemable. And still, just like with the guards, just like with the scientists, he couldn't bring himself to regret it no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't force his feet to turn back into the room and just use the gun or Assistaff to end things in a way that would let him keep his humanity, and it disgusted him. But he just couldn't. 

...No, it wasn't that he couldn't. That would be removing the blame from himself, letting him pin it on something abstract to avoid accountability. Letting him hide behind a lie instead of facing his own flaws. No, it wasn't that he couldn't make himself go put the old man out of his misery. He could. He didn't want to.

Jabber bumped his shoulder against Zanka's as they stood outside the door, raising his eyebrows once Zanka looked over at him, a million silent questions in Jabber's eyes alone, choosing to let Zanka pick which ones to answer.

Zanka took a breath before he squeezed their joined hands and knocked Jabber's shoulder back lightly, huffing out a small laugh. 

"Guess I did say we'd burn it to the ground, shoulda known yer psycho ass would take that literally."

Jabber grinned.

"How else was I supposed to take it? Seemed fitting anyway." Jabber said, motioning with his head toward Assistaff. 

Oh. It hadn't just been a random act of violence. It was intentional, it was for her. And despite everything, Zanka felt his heart swell, and part of him wanted to just pause everything and kiss Jabber stupid right then and there. Softly, slowly, taking his time. Jabber hadn't even seen the damage on Assistaff yet, didn't even know about the nightmare, all he knew about the fire was the little Zanka had told him. Probably just a few sentences in total, most of which Zanka had kept intentionally vague so as not to get too emotional. And still. Still, he'd done that for him. For Assistaff. 

Jabber looked around the corridors.

"Alright, now where was th-"

"Thank you."

Jabber snapped his head back towards Zanka so fast he worried it might sprain. 

"What was that??" 

Zanka looked away, trying to hide the exasperated smile threatening to creep up on him. 

"I'm not sayin it again, I know damn well ya heard me the first time."

"Aww c'mon, I wasn't even really listening, I didn't get to enjoy it!" 

Zanka stopped trying to hide his smile and huffed out a breath. Then he brought their joined hands up towards his face, avoiding Mankira, and pressed a kiss to the top of Jabber's bloody knuckles, where the skin showed through. He looked into Jabber's eyes, which were wide and glowing pink and looking right back at him.

"Thank you." He spoke into their joined hands, keeping eye contact, then brought their hands back down again, and used it to pull Jabber in the right direction. "Now c'mon. If yer original directions were right it'll be this way." 

"Fuck, yeah, okay." Jabber breathed out, and followed dutifully. 

They got a few more hallways away, moving towards what was hopefully the direction of the elevator, before Jabber paused in a seemingly random hallway, moving towards one of the doors instead. 

"The hell are ya doing now?" Zanka questioned.

"I got an idea." Grinned Jabber. "Help me find a lab."

Jabber scanned open the door he was at and walked in once he looked around.

"Oh, perfect! Lucky me!"

Zanka followed, restlessness itching under his skin but not willing to leave Jabber behind and undeniably curious about what he was planning.

Jabber moved over towards one of the benchtops and started cranking the handle for one of the two nozzles that poked out of the otherwise solid countertop. Zanka heard the hiss of air being released before it leveled into something he could barely make out. Jabber bent down and sniffed whatever was coming out of the nozzle.

"Oh hell yeah!" He laughed, and then started cranking the other one.

"What is that?"

"Methane. S'what they use to fuel the burners, usually they add methyl mercaptan to make it smell bad, but they didn't here, that's perfect!"

Zanka's eye twitched.

"Are you seriously, what, getting high or something??"

Jabber laughed and waved his hand.

"Nah, nah, I've tried that before but it's pretty lame. Basically just oxygen deprivation. What I'm doin is hopefully rigging it so this place blows sky high in about, ehhhh, as long as it takes for the gas to fill this room and reach the office through the vents." 

"It's explosive?"

"Crazy explosive! Just needs a spark and boom!" Jabber made explosion sound effects while he pantomimed it with his hands. "Colorless and odorless too, especially without the stupid Methanethiol."

"The what?"

"The sulfur thing, the mercaptan. Makes it smell like rotten eggs. But they didn't add it here, probably cause they synthesize their own methane somehow. Great news for us though, 'cause they won't be able to tell there's a leak til its too late!"

"But we also won't know how far the gas has gotten until it lights up, huh?" Zanka said, catching on. 

"Yep! Guess we'll just have to be quick! That shouldn't be an issue, right?" He teased.

"Not if you don't make any more unnecessary stops."

"Aw c'mon, this was a necessary stop! They can contain the fire but I'm serious about bringin this whole place down for real."

He did have a good point, but Zanka would never admit it. 

"I think ya just wanna see something blow up." 

"Well that too, yeah!"

Zanka rolled his eyes and held open the door.

"Great, a masochist and a pyromaniac, how charming."

"You love it."

"And yer delusional. A triple threat, truly."

Jabber just laughed and followed him out the door and they started moving again.

They kept going straight, getting a few more hallways down, to the point where Zanka knew they had to be nearing the boundaries of the facility, when Jabber apparently recognized something and started pulling Zanka down a hall to their right.

Zanka looked over to where Jabber was pulling him and on the ground of the hallway, a pool of blood beneath it, was a body wearing the guards uniform, five holes in their back. Probably the guy Jabber had run into earlier, then. They stepped over it and kept going.

"It was just over here, there was a long hallway and then the elevator!"

They turned a corner to the left and just like Jabber had said, a long hallway stretched out before them, the elevator gloriously standing at the end of it. Unfortunately, in front of said elevator, blocking their path to freedom, stood three people with large black rifles, two of whom were in normal clothes and one that was dressed like the guards had been. 

Seeing them, there was a beat of shock and then the three raised their guns and started firing. Seemed they had a kill on sight order then, not that it didn't make sense.  

He and Jabber both quickly ducked behind the corner as bullets ricocheted past the area they'd just been standing. Damn it. It didn't seem like there was any other way to the elevator, and they'd never make it to the other one. They'd have to fight their way through. 

Jabber was closer to the hallway, and pulled his gun out of the back of his pants, clicking the safety off –thank god– before leaning around and firing two shots, going for a third and only getting a click in return before Zanka yanked him back around the corner by his hood as more bullets lodged into the wall opposite them.

"Whoops." 

"I swear to- did ya even get one of em?"

"...I'm still getting used to these things, alright? Recoil was fun though, stronger than I thought it'd be." 

Zanka groaned. With the shot he'd spent on bob girl and the one he'd given to Jabber he was down to four. 

He switched their positions while Jabber reactivated Mankira and Zanka waited a beat before leaning around the corner, firing at one of the three gunmen before ducking back, just barely missing another barrage of bullets. He'd heard a pained sound, but not one of a body falling, meaning wherever he'd hit them, it wasn't vital. Damn. They were down to three bullets. No room for error.

If they were just within slashing range Mankira and Assistaff could have handled them no problem, and if they were even just a bit closer or had some cover it would have been easy enough to get a good aim with the gun, but stuck at a distance like this they were at a distinct disadvantage, and they knew it.

Okay. He just needed to get closer. The aim of one of them would likely be off anyways from the injury, so he really only had to worry about two of them. He could do that. They weren't even shooting automatics, so the amount of bullets they could fire would be limited to their reflexes. He'd still need to be stupidly fast, but it was doable. Probably. 

He looked at Assistaff. If it had been a wide open area he'd take her without hesitation. She would be useful in deflecting any bullets he couldn't dodge, and if he missed any shots she could pick up the slack. But in the corridor, maneuvering her with one arm without hitting the walls while also running and dodging would just slow him down, and he knew it. 

He pressed a kiss to the metal and deactivated her, returning her to her wooden form for the first time since he'd taken her out of the locker. 

Then, he handed her to a wide-eyed Jabber, who deactivated Mankira as soon as Zanka brought Assistaff near him, careful not to scratch her any further. He held her carefully, reverently, and looked back at Zanka, confusion and suspicion plain on his face.

Zanka just gave him a nod, not wanting to acknowledge with words how much trust he was putting in him, and readied himself to turn around the corner, gun to his chest. Before he could though, Jabber grabbed his sleeve, and Zanka looked over at him. Jabber had a half-grin, but there was something worried behind his eyes. 

"Yo, you're not planning on doing any lameass self-sacrificial bullshit, are you?"

He hoped not.

"Nah, I got a plan. Just trust me. And stay here til the shooting stops." 

Jabber looked at him a moment longer, then dropped his sleeve, relaxing.

"Aight, I'll trust. Just don't be stupid, kay?"

Zanka gave him a grin, hoping he showed a confidence he didn't quite feel.

"I'd never, that's yer thing." 

Zanka readied himself for real then, and took a deep breath, before turning the corner and sprinting towards the guards, gun in hand. 

The sudden frontal attack caught them off guard, and he got a little bit of distance before they even started shooting at him. His eyes were locked on to the guns as he ran, adrenaline pumping. He ducked under a bullet that whizzed over his head, then moved to the right as one flew past him and a third embedded itself into the wall on his left. Perfect. He kept running, and raised his gun towards the leftmost gunman –the one who'd shot above his head– and fired. It hit them in the chest and they stumbled back before collapsing. Two bullets left. He didn't stop moving.

The rightmost guard adjusted his aim slightly while the other continued to pull the trigger, and another volley of bullets came towards him, the first two just barely missing to his right as he weaved left and then immediately weaved right again, dodging another. He'd made it to the halfway point, and the closer he got, the more panicked the guards seemed. Good. He kept running, keeping his body low as he ducked under another bullet and quickly raised the gun to fire at the middle guard. 

The shot went through their neck and they fell back, firing a shot into the ceiling as they did and making sparks rain down as one of the light panels went out. One shot left. 

This close, it was even easier to see the guard telegraphing their aim with the gun, and he could tell that the single remaining guard, the one on the right –who shot slower and whose aim had been consistently worse– was the one Zanka had hit earlier, a bright red bullet wound showing on the outside of their shoulder. He ran towards the left, feeling a bullet rip through a thankfully empty part of his pants near his knee and then another just barely clip his left ear. He grit his teeth and finally closed the distance completely, dodging one last shot and tackling the guard at an angle, sending them both to the floor. As he did he felt the vibration of the gun firing and missing to the right of his abdomen but before the guard could wriggle his arm out from below Zanka and fire again, Zanka shoved the head of his pistol underneath the guards chin and pulled the trigger, hearing his brains splatter on the floor even through the persistent ringing in his ears. No more bullets. It was done. 

He laid there panting for a second before he slowly tried to get up, hating the feeling of a corpse beneath him. 

He stood up on shaky legs and immediately stumbled, leaning against the wall for support. Shit. He'd really overdone it. Not like he'd had any other choice though. He tried to catch his breath, head pounding, and then he looked back down the hall where Jabber was supposed to be, only to see him already moving swiftly towards Zanka with Assistaff in hand. In a blink he was there, and instantly Jabber's hands were on him, moving all over, seemingly checking him for injuries. It reminded him of the way the stethoscope had moved over him, but instead of feeling violating, there was something comforting about it. 

"I'm fine." Zanka croaked, and then swallowed, clearing thick saliva out of his throat. "I'm good." 

At the confirmation Zanka wasn't hiding any serious injuries and wasn't gonna bleed out, Jabber looked back up at his face, eyes flitting over briefly to the ear that had been just barely grazed by a bullet before coming back to Zanka's eyes. Jabber's face was bright red and he looked somewhere between shocked and amazed, wetting his lips and apparently at a loss for words. Zanka smiled.

"Told ya I'd be fine."

At that, Jabber put his left hand, the one not holding Assistaff, on the side of Zanka's face as he pressed him further against the wall, surging forward to crash their lips together in an absolutely searing kiss. 

Zanka let his eyes close, pressing back even harder, enjoying the feel of Jabber's lips moving against his. Jabber pulled away from Zanka's lips for just a second and started to talk, continuing to pepper kisses along the left side of Zanka's jaw as he did.

"Fuck," A kiss against the corner of his mouth. "you're absolutely" A kiss against the middle his jawline. "unbelievable." A kiss at the top of his jaw. "Holy shit." A kiss below his ear, moving down to nudge under his jaw.

Zanka tilted his head up to give Jabber access, indulging the silent request, still breathing hard. Jabber continued. "You tellin me" A kiss on his neck. "you could do that," A long, bruising kiss into the side of his throat. "the entire goddamn time??" 

The feeling of Jabber speaking against his overly sensitive throat, pressing his mouth against it and feeling barest brush of his teeth over the area had Zanka leaning his head back further against the wall and needing to find something to do with his hands. He held Jabber's uniform in his right hand and reached out blindly for Assistaff with his left, needing something solid to hold on to. 

Jabber took that as a green light and pressed his lips to an area of Zanka's neck where the collar had sat, creating a seal and then sucking harshly at the skin. The feel of it made Zanka's eyes roll into the back of his head and he involuntarily breathed out a sound he'd never made before.

At the sound Jabber just got more excited, moving slightly to a new area and doing it again, pulling another broken moan from Zanka, and Jabber broke the seal to speak against Zanka's throat.

"Fuck, I can't- god."

Jabber dropped down then, and Zanka heard the sound of his knees hitting the floor, opening his eyes and looking down to see Jabber kneeling in front of him, looking up at him through his thick eyelashes, face flushed dark and pupils blown so wide he could barely see any of his iris. 

He looked desperate, and now that Zanka was holding Assistaff again, Jabber had both hands gripping Zanka's thighs, and was rubbing his face against the growing bulge in the front of Zanka's pants. Fuck.

"Please, Zanka. Need you so bad, I can't take it anymore, you gotta let me have a taste." 

He could feel the vibration of Jabber's words through the fabric, and swore he could feel the hot air of Jabber's breath on his dick even through the layers. Fuck. Jabber moved again and Zanka's hips bucked forward involuntarily. 

"C'mon please, we can be so quick. We'll be so fast, promise." 

Damnit. That was right, they were on a timer. They had no idea how long they had until the gas from the labs reached the fire in the office and blew everything to bits, and they could not be there when it happened. 

"Get- fuck" Zanka swore as Jabber rubbed his face against him again, laving his tongue over the front of Zanka's sash, pressing the muscle against his erection. He grabbed Jabber's hair with his free hand and used it to pull him back, resolutely ignoring the sound Jabber made when he did. "Get a grip!" Zanka panted. "I am not dying here cause ya couldn't keep it in your pants fer five minutes. Get in the damn elevator!"

He half-yanked Jabber off the ground and moved over towards the elevator, slamming the keycard against the reader near the button and pressing it with more force than was necessary. He went back to the bodies of the guards and grabbed two of their rifles, not caring about the bullet count, and the elevator doors dinged open not long after. He tossed the guns into the elevator as soon as it was wide enough, and then borderline shoved a grinning Jabber inside while he used the bottom of Assistaff to press the button for ground level.

Jabber stepped near the back wall, still flushed, and looked like he was about to say something, but Zanka didn't give him the chance. He moved forward, pressing Jabber against the back of the elevator roughly and kissed him hard enough that their teeth clacked. 

Then, Zanka moved down and put his face in the crook of Jabber's neck this time, frustrated and pent up. He bit the side of Jabber's neck hard and Jabber keened beautifully, throwing his head back against the wall and gripping the back of Zanka's shirt with both hands. 

"Fuck, yeah, that's it." 

The doors slid shut behind Zanka and they started to ascend. Zanka sucked a dark hickey into the area where he'd just bitten and Jabber only got louder, squirming against him, pressing his lower thigh between Zanka's legs. The friction was delicious, and Zanka ran his tongue along Jabber's neck while he moved over to a new place to bite, starting again. He got lost in it, biting and sucking and kissing Jabber's neck as his breathy whimpers only got louder. 

"Yes, fuck- so good, so- ah,"

The praise shot right through him and he ground against Jabber even harder. The elevator shook slightly as it paused, and Zanka thought they'd reached the top and pulled back slightly, causing a whine from Jabber, but instead it just changed directions and moved horizontally instead of up, so Zanka was moving backwards. Of course the place had weird as fuck elevators too, why not. Zanka went back to Jabber's neck, feeling hazy and trying to chase his own pleasure in the brief interlude before they had to start fighting again.

Eventually the elevator paused its horizontal movements and began to ascend once more, rising for a few more seconds before finally slowing and coming to a full stop with a pleasant ding. Ugh. The universe really did hate him.

Zanka pulled back from Jabber, who –a bit to Zanka's embarrassment– looked kind of like he'd been attacked by a giant leech and was very pleased about it, as the doors started to slide open. 

Zanka bent down and grabbed one of the rifles, pointing it at the doors just in case. They slid open to reveal what looked like an empty concrete building. A table with a few chairs and an ashtray were the only hint it wasn't fully abandonned. 

Zanka stepped out with the gun raised, sweeping around all corners to make sure no one was hiding, and then tucked it under the arm holding Assistaff and went for the chairs. There was the faint sound of movement from above the ceiling, and it likely wouldn't be long before whoever it was realized they weren't employees coming back up. Jabber, who had lazily recovered and stepped out of the elevator, watched Zanka carry a chair back to the doors before it clicked what he was doing and he moved to grab his own. 

"All right smart guy, good thinking, I'll get the other one."

Zanka laid the chair on the ground between the open elevator doors, preventing them from closing. He wasn't sure how many more people were down there, but blocking the elevator would hopefully ensure that he and Jabber couldn't be followed. And that whoever was down there couldn't escape. 

Across the long room where Jabber was headed with another chair was the other elevator, though the outside set of doors looked much more weathered, and if he didn't know it was functional, Zanka would have assumed it was in disrepair. Jabber scanned his own keycard and the doors opened, revealing a pristine inside.

Jabber set the chair down in the opening and at the same time Zanka heard the sound of boots landing on the ground just outside. Someone had probably just climbed down from the roof to investigate the noise. 

The open doorway to the outside was closer to Jabber's half of the room, and Zanka raised the gun just in case but didn't need it, Jabber already moving towards the door. 

A helmeted man wearing a lower-face gas mask and carrying a long-range rifle with a shoulder strap attached turned into the building and spotted Zanka, but didn't get the chance to complete a single word before Mankira was all the way through his chest, and he fell over as soon as Jabber pulled her out. Jabber leaned over the body and pulled off his mask, throwing it across the room towards Zanka, and it landed a few feet away. The air seemed breathable enough, but extended exposure to any area that wasn't a city spelled bad news for their long term health. 

Zanka moved forward and pulled the mask on, taking one last quick look around the room. It didn't seem like there were any stairwells, though if there were they were probably disguised to not draw the eye like the elevators had been, and he didn't have time to look that close. He ran to Jabber, taking the car keys off his belt and tossing them to him as he did. 

"There's probably more people on the roof. Get the car started and I'll cover ya. Left side, fourth space in."

Jabber caught the keys with a grin.

"And here I was thinkin' I'd get to call shotgun." 

They rushed out, finally, into the daylight, and Jabber beelined for the truck while Zanka ran to get cover behind the first car he could see, aiming his rifle at the roof where two more guards in helmets stood, keeping watch. It seemed like they were on high alert, probably since the first the first guard –now dead– hadn't reported anything back, and it didn't take them any time at all to notice Jabber, but before they could raise their guns and aim, Zanka sent a few bullets their way, making them duck down behind the concrete half-wall on the roof. 

The rifle was significantly harder to shoot one-handed than the pistols, and he set Lovely Assistaff down to aim with both arms. Every time one of them started to poke their head up he fired again, one bullet even pinging off one of their helmets before they ducked down again. 

The engine started and he could hear Jabber whoop with excitement. Tires scraped against the compacted dirt lot and Zanka sent a few more shots for good measure as he looked to his left where Jabber was pulling up, slamming on the breaks once he got next to Zanka, looking like he was having the time of his life. 

"Need a ride?"

Zanka didn't dignify that with a reply, just sending a couple more shots toward the roof before he picked up Assistaff and ran the few steps to the car. He tossed the gun through the open window and yanked open the passenger door, jumping in. Jabber stepped on the gas before he'd even finished getting in the seat and there was a terrifying moment where Zanka worried he might fly right back out the still open door as Jabber turned the car sharply, but years of enduring Enjin's driving allowed him the ability to hold on and he finally pulled the door shut as Jabber started driving straight, away from the facility. 

Zanka mentally took stock of everything. Assistaff? Check. Jabber and Mankira? Check. Guns? Check– well, half check. Jabber had never picked up the second rifle from the floor of the elevator, but he hadn't really needed it. 

The sound of gunfire rang out behind them, some pinging off the metal of the car, and the back windshield exploded into glass fragments. 

"Shit!" Yelled Jabber, either in excitement or panic, or both, and started to swerve, driving the car in a serpentine pattern to try and avoid the gunfire. 

Zanka picked up the rifle, which had fallen to the well at his feet, and leaned his top half over the center console, taking advantage of the now open back window to fire some returning shots at them. One of the guards fell. Jabber continued to swerve, and Zanka just barely stopped himself from landing on Jabber as he was tossed from side to side. Even with the turning, some bullets managed to hit the car and Zanka saw one rip through part of Jabber's seat and pierce through the upper part of his right arm with a small spray of blood, making him swear and struggle to keep his grip on the wheel.

Zanka got back in the middle and raised the gun again as more bullets hit the car, one just barely missing his head and cracking the front windshield and another ripping through the edge of his own seat and grazing the right side of his abdomen. Shit.

Zanka fired again, sending a few more shots towards the roof and finally, the other guard fell. The gunfire ceased and only the sound of the tires on dirt and the wind remained. He pushed himself back into the passenger seat with a groan, breathing hard. Now he just had to hope they hadn't managed to hit a tire or something vital in the engine, though if they did he was sure he and Jabber would find out soon enough. 

"Hell yeah!" Laughed Jabber, despite his injury. "Damn, that was badass!"

The area on Zanka's side where the bullet had grazed him hurt like hell and he pressed a hand to it, looking down. 

To his horror, he could already see red spreading underneath his fingers. Fuck, not just a graze then. The adrenaline was already leaving his system and he could feel the pain registering more and more with every breath, every heartbeat. It wasn't a vital area, it probably wouldn't kill him. But his body was already running on empty and despite his best efforts, he could feel shock starting to set in. Damnit. Not like this. 

"Alright, now which way do you thin- oh shit." Jabber said, finally looking over and seeing Zanka's injury. The car started to veer to the right as he did and he straightened it quickly, torn between looking where he was driving and looking at Zanka. "Shit. Hey, you're good right? Yeah?"

"I'll be fine" Zanka grit out. His teeth were starting to chatter, fuck.

Jabber reached around behind him with his left arm and then there was the sound of ripping fabric. Jabber maneuvered around in his seat and then tossed some purple fabric over in Zanka's lap. It was the long tail of fabric he wore in the back, if the knot on the bottom was anything to go by. 

"Tie that. Don't be doing some lame shit like dying of bloodloss now that we're finally outta that dump." 

Jabber's tone was mostly teasing, but he couldn't hide the frantic undercurrent of worry his voice carried, nor how tense he was, looking over at Zanka every few seconds. 

Zanka released the hand pressing on his wound to maneuver the long strip of fabric around his waist with shaking hands. He looped a knot and took a deep breath before pulling it tight, hissing through his teeth in pain as he did. He tied another knot, making sure it was directly over the wound, and secured it. Good. That would help. He rested his head against the window, the glass blissfully cold against his feverish forehead. 

"Okay, I think I can see a town up ahead, if..."

The rumbling of the car was familiar and alien all at once. Everything felt hazy. 

"....ka, Zanka!" 

He opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them, and looked over to see Jabber looking at him, worry clear on his face. Zanka swallowed, clearing his throat before he tried to speak.

"Whatsthat...stupid look for? Better not...be fer me."

Jabber huffed out a half-laugh, looking relieved. 

"I dunno what you're talkin about. Just stay awake, yeah? Y'all got a healer with the cleaners, right?" 

Zanka nodded, head feeling like it weighed a million pounds. 

"Yeah, Eisha....she's good.....real..."

"Hey c'mon man, stay awake. Keep talkin to me, tough guy."

That was way too much work. He was so tired. They were done fighting, right? So he could rest now? That sounded good. Really good. 

"Shit, no! C'mon, just a bit further. Zanka, you can do that right? Prove..."

Jabber's voice faded into the background. He wasn't sure if his eyes were open or closed, everything was dark. Even muted in the background, Jabber's voice was frantic in a way that was hard to ignore. 

But even as Zanka tried to hold on to it, it wasn't quite enough, and he slipped away, only hoping Jabber would ensure he woke back up. 

Chapter Text

~6 weeks earlier

Enjin liked driving. It could be pretty fun, all things considered, and it was a lot easier than everyone liked to pretend it was. Plus, whenever anyone else –god forbid Gris– drove, it knocked him out like a light. Honestly he was doing everyone a service by making sure they were all awake and alert by the time they reached the jobsite. 

...Not that Enjin couldn't use the rest, he hadn't been able to get more than an hour of sleep the night before. But that wasn't too unusual, and he knew he'd be in for a good night of sleep tonight because of it, especially if he managed to get a decent workout in.

It was a simple mission. Go to a polluted zone, take out some trash beasts, come back and get drunk. Standard. And other than the alleged burrowing nature of the trash beasts there was nothing notable about it whatsoever. 

Enjin noticed a big pothole a little too late and decided to just test his luck, an action that sent Rudo –who was probably 90 pounds soaking wet– flying up and into an already visibly irritated Zanka, quickly igniting the start of argument between the two. 

As much as they argued (and they did argue quite a bit), Enjin could tell there was care under the surface. Their two personalities were unfortunately well suited to causing misunderstandings and miscommunications with each other, but there was no real animosity. Well. Most of the time. He stifled a laugh thinking back to the plunger incident. But really, they were a good team, and especially with the nature of Rudo's vital instrument, Enjin couldn't have chosen a better teacher for him. Even if they did get along like cats and dogs sometimes. Or like siblings. 

Luckily though, the argument didn't get a chance to fully come to fruition since Riyo intercepted Rudo quickly by messing with his hair, incapacitating him in a second. At the sight of Rudo's face in the rearview mirror Enjin couldn't help but bark out the laugh he'd been keeping in. 

....

The first trash beast was laughably easy to get rid of, and even after the big colony unearthed themselves it was still a simple mission of dodging and hitting ad nauseam.  Though it was nice to see how everyone had improved, especially Rudo. His current weapon of choice was some letter opener he'd found shaped like a sword, 3R turning it huge and remaking it in his signature black and red metal. He swung it around like a baseball bat, and while it was working surprisingly effectively Enjin made a mental note to ask Zanka to train rudo on the basics of sword and spear fighting, something he knew he was well-versed in from his time in the academy. 

He felt a little bad adding extra to Zanka's plate, since the staff user chronically overworked himself already, but he also knew that he'd probably be more than happy to do it if Enjin was the one asking. His constant need for praise from Enjin especially was the worst kept secret in Cleaner HQ, and on any given day Enjin's feelings about it varied from finding it funny and a bit endearing, to making him absolutely furious at Zanka's so-called family for making someone as talented and hardworking as Zanka feel so inherently worthless. Enjin knew Zanka's siblings probably cared in their own way, deep down, but Zanka certainly didn't, and it was clear to see sometimes how that ate at him. 

At least he seemed to be having a good time fighting, something Enjin could read in his eyes despite not being able to see the expression on his lower face. Zanka swung Lovely Assistaff around gracefully and lethally, completely in his element. 

When the giant trash beast showed up, Enjin got excited. Now he could finally do some real damage with Umbreaker, something he'd been itching for. He split up the rest of the team, sending Gris with Rudo, since he knew Gris's strength and experience would be able to help their youngest member deal with any unknowns from a new enemy while also giving him room to grow, and Follo with Riyo, since Riyo's attacks worked best when somebody could watch her blind spots and her wide sweeping attacks would compliment Follo's pinpoint hammer strikes well, leaving Zanka to take out everything behind him. He knew Zanka could handle it, and he also knew the fact that Enjin had made him the only solo team would only make him fight better. He wasn't worried for a second.

...

The giant trash beast went down pretty easily, Umbreaker's octo-shedder making quick work of it once he was able to get height. Looked like he was in for a good night of sleep after all, he might even skip the drinking. He stretched and decided to see how everyone else was doing. 

Choosing the highest hill he could find, Enjin climbed up and looked around in a big semi-circle. Riyo and Follo were mostly done on the West side, and while he couldn't directly see Zanka from his spot he could see the trash beasts he was slinging around with ease and the occasional quick blue flash of his instrument from behind a hill. Seemed like he was also nearly done and wouldn't have any issues either, not that he expected him to, so he turned his attention to Rudo and Gris. They probably had the most trash beasts left, but they were still fighting well, and he knew this was probably great training for Rudo, especially with Gris there to support him. 

Enjin decided to indulge a bit since so one else was around and let his eyes linger on Gris, watching the slightly older man punch and throw trash beasts around like it was nothing. No weapon, no powers, just pure unadulterated strength. Even through the thick fabric of his uniform it was easy to see his muscles, flexing and moving as he did, visible even from a distance. Enjin wasn't frail by any means, and he was one of the biggest cleaners, only 3 cm shorter than Gris himself, but he knew Gris could definitely pick him up (or hold him down) with ease if he wanted to. He must have crazy stamina too, and Enjin really wouldn't mind experiencing it for himself. 

At the sound of a weird garbled noise from his choker he snapped out of his thoughts, and mentally scolded himself to keep it together on the job. He waited for a follow-up only to receive silence, and before he could ask anything, Riyo beat him to it. 

"Rudo, did you trip and accidentally activate your choker again?" 

"Wha- hey! That wasn't even me, turdface!" 

"uh huh, suuure it wasn't" 

Enjin rolled his eyes fondly. Rudo really was easy to rile up and while he'd normally let it slide for a bit, the both of them still had some more trash beasts to take care of and shouldn't let their guards down to talk. 

"Okay, okay you two, quit fighting and get back to- uh. fighting" Good one, got it in one. God this mentor stuff was easy. 

He scanned around to find Zanka again and still didn't see him, though he didn't see any more trash beasts in that area either. He mentally made a note to tell him he'd done a good job and didn't worry about it further, since the kid had probably just detransformed his instrument and was heading back to the car, their unofficial meetup point after anytime they got separated on a job. He went back to watching the others.

...

Zanka wasn't at the car. Everyone had finished up, Gris and Rudo bringing up the rear, and he had waited until the last trash beast had fallen on the East side to start moving himself. But when they arrived at the car only Riyo and Follo were waiting there. 

Riyo sat on the roof, legs swinging like she didn't have a care in the world, but Enjin had known her for long enough to recognize the slight tension in her body and how she was not-so-subtly scanning the horizon, while Follo had a contemplative expression on his face that slowly morphed into something closer to worry as he noticed them approach. That wasn't good.

"Where's Zanka?" Enjin asked, keeping his voice casual. 

"I dunno, we figured he was with you guys, or just taking a long time to finish off his area, but I don't see or hear anything." Riyo answered, her light tone of voice betraying just a bit of worry. "Safe to say he's not with you then?" 

Enjin shook his head. "Nah, he's probably just off taking a leak somewhere or something."

But that didn't make sense. Zanka had probably been the first to finish. Even if he had stopped to take a dump he still shoulda been back at the car by now. Enjin clicked on his choker.

"Yo, Zanka. Where are you? We're gettin ready to head out, don't make us leave you behind." 

Nothing. A damning silence. Everyone shared a look. Enjin pushed back the anxiety starting to rise up in him. 

"Zanka. Seriously, we gotta go. Can you hear me?" 

Still nothing. Everyone was looking at him. Enjin had to keep it together despite the increasing feeling of dread in his gut. He had to do something. 

"Okay everyone, I think we should fan out towards the Southeast and do a sweep of the area. Keep your eyes peeled, there's a chance he's just messed up his choker and gotten lost but he could also be passed out, injured, or trapped. And watch your step as we go, we don't know if there are any stragglers underground." 

Everyone had started moving as soon as he'd mentioned sweeping the area, and Enjin tried to remember which one of the countless near-identical dunes he's seen Zanka near the last time he looked.

They'd find him, and probably be teasing him about this in a couple hours over food, something he knew would make him turn red with embarrassment. Worst case scenario they had to rush him back to Eisha or see if the nearby town had a doctor. No doubt if they did they'd charge an arm and a leg for their services but it wasn't like they couldn't afford it. But that wouldn't need to happen. Zanka wouldn't let himself get hurt by such a weak enemy. There was no way. 

Enjin kept looking, wandering around towards the area where he thought he'd seen Zanka finishing off the last few trash beasts, calling out his name and straining to hear any response. Listening for any wheeze, or movement from under trash, or anything. But it was as silent as the choker had been. 

After about 10 minutes of nobody radioing in he started to really, actually worry. Why did Enjin look away, why didn't he pay better attention to Zanka's battle? Did he miss something? In those flashes of seeing Assistaff, was she slow? Were the trash beasts not flying as far as they should have? He knew Zanka had a bad habit of hiding or downplaying his injuries, had he been injured early on and they'd had no idea? When Enjin split them up had he unknowingly sent Zanka to his dea-

There was blood on the ground. 

There was fresh blood on the ground, near the peak of a hill, and Enjin felt like he'd been dunked underwater. He couldn't know for sure it was Zanka's, but it wasn't like anyone else had come back injured. And trash beasts don't bleed. He touched it, heart pounding in his ears. It was still wet, and cool against the metal and plastic of the ground. He had to steady himself. It was only about half a pint at most, nowhere near a lethal amount of blood loss. Especially not for someone like Zanka. He was a fighter, and he had to be around there somewhere. He activated his choker. 

"Everyone start heading towards me, I think I found something." 

"What do you mean 'you think'? What'd you find?" Riyo questioned suspiciously.

Enjin hesitated, but it wasn't like he could shield the knowledge from them. Especially not once they got there and saw it for themselves.

"Blood." 

He heard Riyo swear and increase her pace over the choker. 


...


They couldn't find him. 

They'd been looking for hours, trying to cover as much ground as they could and other than the blood they didn't find anything. At some point Enjin had subconsciously switched from looking for Zanka's prone form to looking for scraps of clothing, pieces of Assistaff, locks of ash blonde and brown hair, anything at all, and he hated himself for it. And still they found nothing. 

It was starting to get dark and Enjin realized he had to make a tough call. He gave one last long look around, hoping against everything that he'd find something. But of course he didn't. Damn it. This was gonna suck. He clicked on his choker.

"Alright everyone, start heading back to the car, there's only so m-"

"Did you find him?!" Rudo's voice broke through. 

Damn it. God fucking damn it he hated this. Hated how hopeful Rudo sounded, how desperate. 

"...We can't stay out here forever. It's getting dark, we need to go back to HQ." 

"It won't be forever though, just until we find Zanka! We can't just leave without him!" Rudo's angry voice argued.

"We'll come back in the morning, as soon as we can. And we'll bring more people, but we can't get anything done in the dark. Stumbling around here exhausted without being able to see is just gonna do more harm than good. We have to go." Enjin put a sense of authority in his words that he didn't feel. He wanted to stay too, visibility be damned. But he was the leader here and he had to make the hard decisions for his team.

"But...it's Zanka.." came Rudo's voice, sounding more like a child than he had in all the time Enjin had known him. 

A piece of Enjins heart shattered. 

...

The ride back was awful. No one spoke. No one looked at each other. Rudo stubbornly took his normal spot in the middle and the empty spot on the right where Zanka normally sat was only more pronounced because of it. Everything felt uneven, unbalanced. Enjin could see Gris sending him worried looks from the passenger seat out of the corner of his eye, but he just kept his eyes on the road. 

...

When they arrived back at HQ it felt like a funeral procession. Riyo had slammed the door getting out of the car and gone inside before anyone else. Rudo moved forward like a zombie, eyes clouded and mind clearly somewhere else, and Enjin suddenly remembered that he'd lost his adoptive father right before being cast out of the sphere. Shit.

They walked into the lobby and Semiu was already waiting for them with a sympathetic look on her face. She spoke gently.

"Hey everyone. Good work on the mission today, I'm so sorry to hear about Zanka. We'll send a search team out first thing tomorrow morning. In the meantime, you all should try and get some rest if you can. The dining hall has stayed open late too, in case any of you feel up to some food. Enjin, I'll keep you for a brief."

He shouldn't be surprised Semiu already knew, even though he'd forgotten to tell her. Informing HQ had been the last thing on his mind, especially because with every passing minute and then hour they were out there he did truly believe someone would find him just over the next hill. Because of course they would. They had to. Zanka couldn't just be gone. But they didn't, and he was.

He waited until everyone had walked off to their rooms, Gris giving him a grounding squeeze on the shoulder as he passed, and then it was just him and Semiu. 

"How'd you know?"

"Gris called me about 10 minutes before y'all were supposed to be back. Told me Zanka hadn't shown after you all split up." 

Of course Gris had picked up the slack where Enjin failed. The man was an angel. 

"So," She said. "what happened?"

He told her everything. He found himself struggling for some of the earlier details because the entire thing had been so mundane up until that point. It was just supposed to be a normal, boring mission. He told her about the giant trash beast, about sending Zanka to take care of a quadrant alone, and he could tell from her eyes that she knew he was kicking himself for it. He really couldn't hide anything from her, glasses or no. He told her about the blood, and the search, and how he'd eventually had to just call it. 

Semiu listened aptly without interrupting, and once Enjin was done she took a moment to take a deep breath and hum. 

"Okay. We traced Zanka's choker location and the last signal before it cut out seems to be around where you last saw him and where you found the blood, we'll focus the search there. You should also get some rest if you can. I'll make sure you're in the main search party. And Enjin?" She waited until he was looking at her, eyes piercing as always but laced with sympathy as they bored into his own. "Whatever happened isn't your fault. These things just happen sometimes, but still, I'm so sorry. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"I want permission to take a car." 

She tilted her head, slightly confused. "...Yes? I assumed you'd be driving with-"

"Not tomorrow. Now. I'm going back out there."

She just blinked. "You can't be serious." 

"I'm dead serious. If there's any chance he's still out there he doesn't have a lot of time. I'm not waiting to look for a corpse instead."

"...It's pitch black."

"I'll bring lights."

"Enjin."

"And I'll bring first aid supplies from the infirmary. Or Eisha if she's awake."

"Enjin."

"And I-"

"ENJIN!"

Semiu rarely snapped like that, and it made him freeze. She looked at him, waiting a beat, and then spoke softly, like speaking to a wounded animal.

"Enjin, you know as well as I do what the chances are of him being alive right now. You already looked. You looked everywhere you could in the daylight for hours. If he-" She sighed, choosing her words carefully. "...If there was anything to find you would have found it. You're not stupid Enjin, you know what those digging types of trash beasts do with..." She trailed off, not needing to finish the thought. Enjin already knew. "I would love to be wrong, I really would. I want nothing more than for you to find him and bring him back alive, but you have to be realistic, and you also have to think of the rest of your team. They look up to you, and they rely on you. Especially now. You can't just fall apart on them, and that includes not running off alone into a polluted zone in the middle of the night when you desperately need sleep, and don't try and tell me you don't." she finished, leveling him a glare with one hand on her glasses. 

She was right of course, she was right about everything and still, all he could think about was Rudo's broken "But...it's Zanka.."

And it was. It was Zanka. He couldn't just be gone like that. He couldn't.

Enjin could feel his nails threatening to break the skin of his palm by how hard he was clenching his fists. It wasn't fair. He should be out there. But he couldn't be. And he knew it. He finally gave up, tension leaving his body and quickly being replaced by something much more exhausting. 

He bid Semiu goodnight in a haze and dragged himself up to his room. He should definitely go eat, but it could wait. He just wanted to sleep right now. He could grab some bars in the morning and take them with him. 

As he came up on his door he noticed something in front of it. A bowl, covered in steamed-over cling film with a note and chopsticks on top. 

'Eat, and get some rest. We need you.'

It was Gris's handwriting. He took off the film to find a still-warm bowl of simple dashi udon. If he was anyone else he would have cried, and as it was, he quickly went inside his room so no one could see him rub his eyes. Just in case. 


...


They still didn't find him. 

They searched the whole day. They went over every bit of the area, and then past it. And then back. Then they started digging through trash piles. And still nothing.

In their digging, they disturbed what must have been the last couple trash beasts in the whole area, and they were taken down quicky and with extreme contempt. 

(In the remains of one of them, they found a human skull, and while they quickly realized that it was both too weathered and too big to possibly be Zanka's it hung over them like a thundercloud. It marked the point where they switched from looking for Zanka to finding something to bring back. Anything. But there was nothing.) 

Enjin found himself back at the spot where he'd found Zanka's blood. It had oxidized overnight, and looked almost indistinguishable from the dark rust that littered the metal around them. In a few days it would be gone entirely. The thought made Enjin sick.


...


He was gone. Zanka was just gone, vanished in an instant forever. It didn't feel real. It couldn't be real. There was no dramatic clash with an enemy, no cathartic self-sacrafice or poetic final words. He was just there one moment and gone the next. And while sudden, unexpected deaths weren't unheard of in the cleaners, usually they at least had something left to grieve. But whatever was left of Zanka was probably buried so far down under trash that his body would never see the light of day again. Enjin just hoped it had been quick, and tried to ignore the knowledge that knowing Zanka, it probably hadn't been. 

...

Team Akuta weren't assigned any missions in the following two weeks out of respect, and Enjin almost wished they were. He could really use the opportunity to hit something. 

Riyo still wasn't talking to him, or anybody. She was getting angrier by the day and would leave the base for long stretches of time without telling anyone where she was going. Enjin could guess where. 

Rudo, on the other hand, locked himself in his room. His eye bags were getting bigger and darker every time Enjin saw him, too many nights staying up fixing things when sleep evaded him. Or maybe it was him that was evading sleep. Enjin tried a few times to talk to him but Rudo refused, insisting he had to work on whatever his latest project was at the moment, since it seemed to change constantly. There was a desperation to it and Enjin didn't have the heart to make him stop by force. 

Gris was probably handling it best, an anchor in the storm Enjin was eternally grateful for. Gris checked in on and cared for everyone as best he could, including Enjin. And as much as Enjin hated anyone seeing him like that, if anyone had to, he was glad it was Gris. But Enjin could tell he was hurting too, and he noticed Gris volunteering for more and more missions. He wasn't on the same forced leave, being a supporter and not technically a member of team Akuta, though Semiu made it very clear taking some time off was strongly advised. In the end though, they couldn't enforce it. Especially when Gris did such a good job of acting okay. 

Follo cranked up his training to 11. It seemed like every time Enjin passed the gym he was in there. Working out, sparring –usually with Gris but it seemed like he'd take anyone he could get– running, lifting weights, practicing endlessly with his hammer. It reminded him so much of Zanka, of his unending drive to get better, to be stronger. And sometimes, Enjin forgot it wasn't. Sometimes, when he heard the sound of training at odd hours of the night or morning he thought about trying to find a way to get Zanka to relax for a bit, and sometimes he'd even get as far as the door before remembering, and every time it hurt just as bad as the first. 

...

He wasn't the only one who kept forgetting, despite everything. A handful of days in, he'd been walking the halls around 5am, having woken up at 3 and not been able to fall back asleep, choosing instead to take a long smoke break on the roof. The sun was just coming up and as he passed the dojo on his way back he saw Rudo just standing in front of it, looking tired and lost. Enjin walked over and while Rudo eventually noticed his presence he didn't stop staring at the door like he was trying to figure it out. 

"You're up pretty early, trying to get some training in before everyone wakes up?"

Rudo kept looking at the door. And quietly and more subdued than Enjin had ever heard him, simply went

"It's Sunday." 

Ah.

Sunday was the day Zanka and Rudo would train early in the mornings, and the day they'd focus only on sparring, taking advantage of the empty gym to go all out (within reason) either unarmed or with the training weapons. Rudo always complained about having to get up so early, and Zanka griped about having such an ungrateful trainee, and neither of them would ever admit it, but he could tell it was their favorite way to train, and they'd usually finish around breakfast, coming in together, sometimes with more than a few bruises, and settle in their usual seats with a sense of tired contentment. 

Rudo seemed to finally snap out of it, looking down at the ground before he started to turn away.

"Forget it. I'm just gonna-"

"Do you wanna spar?" Enjin blurted out.

For a moment it looked like Rudo was just gonna push him away again, and probably go back to his room doing who knows what, but he just stood still. And then, he nodded, and looked up at Enjin. 

"Yeah, lets do it." A little light was back in his eyes. Just barely. "If you think you can keep up."

Enjin knew he didn't mean with him.

...

It was around the end of the first week when Enjin heard something from inside Zanka's room.

He froze in the hallway, then walked over and put an ear to the door. There was definitely someone inside. He heard the breeze of an open window, the sound of fabric rustling, and what might have been a whimper of pain. 

He scrambled to unlock it in an instant with a key Semiu had given him –though one he hadn't had the willpower to use yet– and yanked the door open, frantic. 

Inside, curled up in Zanka's bed with red, tear stained eyes, and looking equally as surprised to see Enjin as he was to see her, was Riyo. They stayed like that for a beat, before Riyo started furiously wiping her eyes.

"Pretty sure you're supposed to knock before barging into someone's room." Her voice was shaky, thick with emotion.

"Sorry, I thought..." He trailed off. By the look on her face, she knew what he'd thought, and looked guilty for it. Enjin wracked his brain trying to figure out what to say. 

What are you doing in here? How have you been holding up? Do you blame me? All terrible questions with obvious answers.  

Instead, he closed the door and walked over to the bed. 

"You uh, got room for one more?" 

She looked at him, searching for something in his face, and then to his surprise she scooted over towards the wall before laying down again, leaving a space open for him. 

He settled into it gratefully, laying on his back next to her and looking up at the ceiling. He moved around a bit, trying to get comfortable. 

"Yeesh, this mattress is so firm it feels like I'm laying on the floor. How does Zanka sleep like this?"

He heard a wet laugh and a sniffle from beside him.

"I know, right? No wonder he's so grumpy all the time." 

Neither of them address the fact that they're still using present tense. 

There was another long quiet moment where Enjin stared at the ceiling and tried to figure out what to say, or if he should say anything at all, before he heard Riyo's abnormally quiet voice from next to him.

"I found Kuro."

Enjins head shot to the side to look at her, eyes wide. 

"Riyo, you-"

"I know. I know it was stupid. But I just....I had to know."

Enjin would be a hypocrite to admonish her for going to the information broker. He'd considered going more than once himself. He had thought about what question he'd ask, and what the broker might ask in return. Whether Zanka was alive had been his immediate thought, but it was thrown out immediately. If the answer was no it would only be an expensive confirmation of what he already knew, and if it was somehow yes they still wouldn't be any closer to finding him. Asking where Zanka was would probably be a better option, but Kuro loved technicalities and even if they got an answer that was anywhere other than where they'd last seen him it didn't mean for sure that he was alive, and even if he was, there was every chance he was moving and his location at that moment wouldn't help. Then he'd thought about asking if the Raiders had taken him, and while that one would give them all the info they needed if it was a yes, it was too specific and had the highest likelyhood of being a no, and then they were back at square one.

"What'd you ask?"

"I asked where he was."

So she had gone with that then. It was probably what Enjin would have gone with too.

"...And what'd he say?"

Enjin already knew. The fact that Riyo was here like this was all the confirmation he needed, but he had to hear it. 

Riyo kept staring at the ceiling, and Enjin couldn't do anything but watch as a tear came out of the side of her open eye and rolled down her face.

"He said he was in a polluted zone. Deep underground." 

That was it then. The final nail in the coffin. He'd known it was the most likely case, but still. 

"He asked if I wanted to know more. He looked...I almost said yes."

No doubt he'd wanted a higher price for it though. Enjin wanted to ask what Kuro had asked Riyo to pay him with, but he'd already pushed her. If she didn't volunteer the information it was clear she didn't wanna talk about it. Enjin understood that better than anyone. 

"I'm glad you didn't take him up on it. Not everyone comes back from seeking him out."

"I'm glad I didn't lose you too" went unspoken.

...

The boss had volunteered to break the news to Zanka's family in the Hell Guard, something Enjin had been dreading, and he was more than happy to take him up on it. Enjin didn't have it in him to explain how he'd failed to keep Zanka safe, but he also knew that he couldn't hide his face entirely, and he owed it to Zanka to at least not be a complete coward about it. 

He lingered in the hall outside the Boss's office, waiting for the Hell Guard to finish their meeting. Sooner than he expected, the doors pushed open and out of them walked Kyouka Nijiku, with Goka and a few guards following behind her. 

Enjin stepped out into the hall, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Listen, Kyouka-"

"Don't." She held her hand up, and while she was composed, her eyes burned with anger. "I have no interest in your excuses. Or your pity. If Zanka failed it's his burden to bear and nobody else's."

She stepped past him and continued walking, and so did the rest of her posse. Enjin didn't know what else he'd expected, but somehow the cold mask of indifference filled him with an irrational anger and he yelled at her back before he could stop himself. 

"A failure, huh? Clearly, you didn't know him at all then!"

That seemed to strike a nerve, and Goka whirled around, anger clear on his face, while Kyouka stiffened. She turned just her head, looking at Enjin from the side with a withering glare.

"Watch yourself Enjin. You're lucky the cleaners are still an asset to the Hell Guard's mission, despite your gross incompetence." She faced forward again. "We're leaving."

Goka looked like he wanted to say something more, but fell in line anyway, turning around and walking off with the rest of the Hell Guard, before rounding the corner and retreating out of Enjin's view. 

Enjin watched them go, still angry. Their reaction wasn't surprising in the slightest but the fact that Zanka had probably died thinking his siblings despised him and they showed no remorse over that fact was still infuriating.

He turned around and entered the Boss's office. Corvus sat behind his desk, looking at Enjin as he entered with that constant kind but knowing expression. 

"How'd it go?" He asked and Enjin huffed out a laugh in response.

"Stole the question right outta my mouth. ...Fine, I guess. Don't know what I expected."

He needed a cigarette.

...

Enjin didn't dream often. Partly cause he didn't sleep all that often. But even when he did, any images his mind conjured up while unconscious were rare to begin with and when they did appear usually dissolved like smoke as soon as he woke up anyway. 

But on rare occasions, he'd wake up and be able to hold on to the memory of his dream if he really focused. Most dreams weren't worth remembering, so it wasn't a skill he practiced often. But when he woke up from a dream almost two weeks after Zanka's disappearance he held on to it, he tried to grab the smoke as tight as he could before it dissipated.

It had been a memory of Zanka's first birthday with the cleaners. He'd only been with them a few months at that point, but it was already clear to see how determined he was and how he'd be a force to be reckoned with when he got older, even if he constantly insisted on his own averageness. (Now, remembering it, Enjin thought about the fact that Zanka never would get older and it felt like a punch to the gut.) 

It had taken a month or two but Zanka had finally managed to find something of a rhythm in the Cleaners, after having to almost be temporarily suspended a couple times in the beginning for overworking himself both in and out of missions. He was desperate to prove himself and while it made him a strong fighter and a quick learner, he was still just a kid, and they'd had to borderline force him to take care of himself. Back then, Enjin often wondered how he'd managed to pick up two surprisingly lethal preteens with issues while still in his mid twenties, but shockingly he found he didn't mind it too much at all.

It had taken a while to get Zanka to stop addressing Enjin so formally, and even longer to warm up to Riyo for reasons Enjin wouldn't understand until later, but Riyo was persistent when she wanted to be, and once she'd finally managed to wedge herself in the cracks of Zanka's armor they became thick as thieves. 

She'd managed to get his birthday out of him somehow and on the day of, they'd surprised him with some supplies to help him care for and maintain his jinki, newly dubbed as Lovely Assistaff, and some leaf-shaped manju from his hometown. 

Enjin had been worried they'd been way too obvious about what they were planning, especially with his "secret emergency mission" a couple days before to retrieve the  treats, but the look of genuine shock and bewilderment on Zanka's face had killed any doubt immediately. He'd looked so surprised, in fact, that a part of Enjin had wondered if anyone had ever done anything nice for him before in his life. 

It had taken a few seconds for Zanka to even react beyond blank-faced shock, looking down at the manju and gifts before looking up at him and Riyo, and then back down again. To both their surprise, Zanka's lower lip began to tremble and his eyes started to shine with unreleased tears, and Enjin and Riyo shared a brief look of panic before Zanka wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm and looked back up at them with an absolutely blinding smile, thanking them profusely. 

It was a good memory, and even drowned in a filter of grief Enjin tried to hold on to it, tried to remember how it felt, what Zanka's joy had looked like in the brief moments he allowed himself to show it. 

Enjin hoped he had more dreams like that soon.

...


Slowly, things got easier. Not better, but easier. 

Their first mission back was as simple as they came. A cut and dry extermination of a couple medium-sized trash beasts getting a bit too close to Canvas Town. It was in no way a mission that required all of them, but Enjin was glad they all got sent on it together, especially with the way none of them ever left each others line of sight while fighting, and the way he could tell everyone was constantly doing a mental headcount. It took longer than it should have, but they finished the job without issue, and even got to visit their friends in town. 

Apparently, the unspoken "line of sight" rule only applied to fighting, because near-instantly Remlin found Rudo and dragged him off to presumably convince him to go cause some chaos. Probably with an unflattering portrait of Enjin if he had to guess, by the way they were looking over at him and whispering while Remlin laughed and sized him up with their thumb. 

Not that he really minded, it was good to see Rudo actually acting his age for once. The kid had been through way too much already.

Riyo had also wandered off, saying she was going shopping. Despite Canvas Town being maybe the safest place possible on the ground, watching her walk off alone made a spike of panic jolt through Enjin momentarily, before he had to remind himself that it was safe, and she could handle herself. And even if something did happen, he knew all of them were still on high alert anyways. It wouldn't happen again. 

By the time he and Gris had finished chatting with the mayor, Rudo and Riyo seemed to have both finished their respective tasks and were ready to head back. It wasn't until they were walking out of the gates and he paused to say one last thank you to the mayor and tell Remlin they were welcome over at Cleaner HQ anytime that he looked forward and realized what Riyo had bought. 

Swinging lightly at her hip, attached to the same pouch she used to carry her scissors, was a small charm. A simple blue tassel. It was a bit too dark in color, and a little small, but it was so similar, and it filled his heart with an emotion that threatened to overflow and drown him regardless. 

As though she could feel Enjin's eyes on her –or maybe she'd just noticed his footsteps stopping– Riyo turned around, and followed his eyes to the tassel. She reached a hand over to it somewhat sheepishly, running her thumb along it.

"It was the closest they had. I figured if any place had one, it would be here." 

Enjin just nodded, afraid of what his voice would sound like if he spoke. And luckily, it seemed like Riyo got it, since she just gave him a sad but knowing smile and loaded into the car. 

...

It wasn't all smooth sailing, and they definitely got into more than a few arguments that ended in hurt feelings and somebody storming off. 

Notably, the one time around three weeks in when Enjin had mentioned that they'd likely need to take on another combat focused member if they wanted to do the same level of missions as a team that they'd done prior, which was something Riyo had been pushing for lately. He wasn't suggesting it nor did he have anyone even remotely in mind, but it was just a fact that with a missing member they weren't as strong as they used to be and if they wanted to take on the same level of danger without pulling from other teams they needed to add to their ranks. Riyo had absolutely lost it on him, yelling at him for trying to replace Zanka and him yelling back that of course he wasn't, no one ever could, but that they all needed to be realistic about what they could do with only three of them now, one of whom was still learning and now lacking a teacher. The argument had ended with him yelling that he wasn't losing another team member because Riyo didn't feel like playing it safe, and her storming out of the room and slamming the door in his face when he got up to follow. 

(She'd found him later on the roof smoking, and apologized. He apologized too, and they both spent a while sitting in silence just watching the city.)

They all had something of an open wound now, and it was hard to tell what seemingly small things would trigger the hurt and grief and anger.

It was those times that Enjin especially wished Zanka was still with them. Tomme really had put it best when she'd joke about how he could knock some sanity into their craziest members, and without his grounding presence the team didn't function like it used to. 

But they were learning. Or at least they were trying to. 

...

One month exactly –a month already, somehow– after Zanka disappeared, Rudo dragged Enjin outside the compound, saying he had something to show him. The kid was a ball of nerves, and kept fidgeting with his gloves as he led them around towards the back of the building. Finally rounding the corner, Enjin got a look at a section of the back wall and his heart stopped.

It was a mural. Dazzling, swimming blues in abstract shapes dripped down and surrounded bunches of small, light blue flowers with star-shaped yellow and white centers. And in the center of it all was a painterly rendering of Zanka. His Assistaff fully transformed and being held gracefully in both hands. He somehow looked like he was moving, his tassel earrings swaying through the air like he was getting ready to wind up his vital instrument and leap forward into battle. His expression was relaxed, but calculating, and his eyes seemed to look just beyond the horizon. Enjin couldn't stop looking at it. 

Sticking out of the ground at the bottom of the mural was a metal version of Zanka's jinki in its regular stick form, surrounded at the base by welded versions of the same flowers in the painting. 

It was a memorial.  

He could feel himself getting choked up and he turned to Rudo, who was staring at the ground with the same constipated expression he always wore and scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"Remlin did most of it. I just had to show them what the flowers looked like. They grew anywhere there was light up in the sphere, even in the slums. They're known for being hardy. I thought it fit." 

Enjin nodded, it sounded like it did.

"They're beautiful. What are they called?"

Rudo didn't answer at first, continuing his staring contest with the ground, before he looked at the metal flowers surrounding the staff.

"Forget-me-nots." 

...

The cleaners didn't have funerals in the traditional sense. It was a dangerous job, and everyone knew the risks when they signed up. Some losses were simply unpreventable. Losing a friend and comrade was hard enough, they didn't need to hold a slow, tragic service and steep everyone in misery for days to weeks. Instead, they had celebrations of life. Big parties where everyone ate and drank and told all their favorite stories about the person who had passed. They served their favorite foods, and played their favorite songs, and the night always ended with one final group toast to their fallen friend. 

Normally, it would have already happened weeks ago, but since they hadn't found a body they'd held on to the hope that somehow, maybe, he'd still turn up alive. And then, even after that hope had fully withered it was just too hard to admit to themselves that Zanka was gone, and holding a celebration of life felt like giving up on him, leaving him behind. 

But they weren't leaving him behind. The mural was proof of that. Riyo's tassel was proof of that. Enjin himself would be proof that. They'd all carry him with them, for as long as they all lived. They had to.

...

The celebration was beautiful, and bittersweet. They laughed, they cried, they shared embarrassing and heartwarming stories alike, and for a night it really felt like Zanka was back with them. 

Enjin had no idea Riyo had taken so many pictures of Zanka with Tomme's camera, most from when he was asleep or distracted. He quickly understood why, since all the ones where he wasn't were blurry, and usually showed him trying to block the camera's vision or move out of the way. 

There was one photo in particular from the inside of the car, the camera at the back left corner, that caught Enjin's attention. It was one of the few times Gris had driven on their way back from a mission, and predictably Enjin was asleep in the passenger seat, the photo catching him mid-snore. Behind him was Zanka, also sleeping, though seemingly much more peacefully, his head resting against the window. Rudo was turned sideways in his seat towards the camera, passed out with some slightly bloody tissue in his nose and one arm on his stomach, using Zanka as a back and headrest while his legs were slung across Follo's lap, who was mid eye-roll and poorly hiding a smile behind one hand, the other reaching for the camera. On the right side of the frame, in the far backseat, was a smiling Tomme holding out a double peace sign. 

Enjin casually asked Riyo if he could keep it and she let him have it with a knowing look, claiming she already had extras. 

When he finally retired to his room that night, he pinned the photo to the wall above his bed, and fell into the first restful sleep he'd had in a long time. 

...

Life went on, and while he took more chances to have his smoke breaks around the back of the building, and still often found himself in Zanka's room, usually with Rudo or Riyo, or both, things started to go back to normal. The team had started to find their equilibrium again, everyone picking up the slack in their own way, and mending the hole. 

Enjin was finally starting to feel like himself again, and it seemed like Cleaner HQ itself had released a breath it had been holding for a long time. 

Which was exactly why it caught him so off guard when Semiu's frantic voice burst out of his choker in the middle of his smoke break.

"Enjin, get to the front gate now! I think it's- It looks like- Just bring Umbreaker, and go quick! I'll get you some backup."

He was already running, lit cigarette still in his mouth, and he pressed his choker.

"Whats the problem? Marauders? Raiders? How many are we talking?" It must have been a big deal if Semiu wasn't just handling it herself.

Semiu didn't answer, probably on the line with someone else, not that it mattered, because Enjin had already reached the gate in record time, hearing a constant series of kicks banging against it. 

He transformed Umbreaker and held it up as he pushed the gate open wide enough to see who was out there, and immediately did a double take. Then a triple take. His brain simply failing to comprehend what he saw. His cigarette fell out of his mouth and onto the floor. 

It was Jabber, crazed grin permanently on his face and only growing wider when he saw Enjin's vital instrument glowing, clearly itching for a fight, but that wasn't important. Nothing else was important, because being held to his chest in both of his arms was Zanka, flushed and bleeding and clearly worse for wear but breathing and there and alive. 

Zanka had a large patch of dried blood staining the left shoulder of his uniform, and had a strip of Jabber's own purple fabric tied around his waist, partially soaked in blood from a wound on his right abdomen, and the way the fabric made it look as if Jabber had claimed him in some way made Enjin absolutely furious. Zanka's eyelids twitched, and if he was conscious it was only just barely, face flushed and clearly feverish. Lovely Assistaff in her wooden form rested on top of him, Zanka's arms loosely tossed over her, holding her to his chest, and looking at her Enjin suddenly realized she was damaged. Jabber was a dead man. 

"Ayo, you gonna let us in or what? He's not doin too hot, you're probably gonna wanna be quick about that medical care. Y'all got someone who can do that, right?" 

Enjin blinked, and then in one motion he grabbed Jabber and yanked him inside the gate, slamming it closed behind him. Then, within the same second, he raised Umbreakers sharp tip to his throat, pressing it in deep enough to break skin, a thin rivulet of red making its way down Jabbers throat. 

"Don't. Move." Enjin seethed. "Give me one reason I shouldn't skewer you right now. What the hell did you do to him!?" 

"So rude, I can see where Zan-zan gets his bad attitude from." The raider drawled with a lazy grin. "Who says I did anything to him? I did bring him back here, after all. Y'all should really be thanking me." 

Enjin growled, ready to just spear Jabber through the throat and be done with it. To hell with their no-killing rule. To hell with needing to know what Zanka had clearly been injected with, there was probably a zero percent chance Jabber would actually tell them the truth anyway. Better to just take him out in one move and catch Zanka before he hit the ground. 

By the look in his eyes, Jabber knew exactly what Enjin was thinking, and only looked more excited because of it, body tensed like a predator about to pounce. The tension was strung taut, waiting to snap, and Enjin was ready to just commit, knowing he needed to make the first move before Jabber did. Jabber's grip on zanka tightened slightly as he grinned like a maniac and got ready to move the instant Enjin did, before suddenly Zanka reached over shakily and grabbed on to one of the hands holding him, still breathing hard.

"Don't." Zanka took a breath, eyes cracking open. "...Please." 

Enjin wasn't sure which one of them he was talking to, but it made him stop dead in his tracks regardless. Zanka Nijiku did not beg. 

Jabber also stopped, looking down at Zanka  with an unreadable look as they seemed to have a quick conversation with just their eyes. Enjin watched. 

Eventually, jabber heaved out a big sigh, defeated, and the tension that had been slowly coiling up in his body dissipated at once. 

"Fiiiine. But you owe me big time, y'know that?" 

Zanka, despite the pained grimace stuck on his face, actually had a small smile at that, the corners of his lips just barely twitching up. What???

"Yeah yeah, add it to the pile." 

People were coming out of the front of the building now, and he could hear gasps as they took in the situation and ran over. 

Gris was one of the first over, and Enjin was grateful for it. 

"Gris, can you take Zanka?" Umbreaker was still at Jabbers throat, ready to sink in despite Zanka's warning if Jabber made even a single wrong move. 

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I can do that." And he leaned over and gently removed Zanka from Jabbers arms, looking down at him with shock. Enjin didn't blame him.

"Get him to Eisha quick, he's poisoned." 

Gris nodded, and ran off. 

"He's not. Well, I mean probably not too much anyway."

"Shut the fuck up. I'm sure you already know we can't just let you leave, so how are we gonna do this? You gonna come quietly or am I gonna get to slam your pathetic ass into the dirt?" 

"Mannn, you can't say shit like that when I'm not allowed to fight, you're gonna get me all excited for nothing."

Enjin's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean not allowed to fight?"

"I mean that if we go at it right now one of us is dyin pretty much instantly, just depends on who's faster. Zanka knew that, that's why he said no. Duh." 

"...So you're not gonna fight."

"Well not yet." 

"Drop the rings then." Rang out Riyo's voice from behind him. She stepped forward, holding- a gun?! Damnit, he thought he told her to get rid of that! 

She continued to stare down Jabber, who, after a long and tense moment of consideration, shockingly, started removing the rings adorning his fingers, still looking for all the world like he was in complete control. It was really starting to piss Enjin off. 

When his fingers were finally bare he looked over at where Rudo was standing next to Tamsy and the Santa duo. "Yo, Rudo my man! Zanka says you're pretty good with other peoples' treasures. Take good care of these for me, kay?" And tossed them over to him.

"Yeah fat fuckin chance, shithead." Rudo muttered while still moving to catch the rings, and then picking up and carefully dusting off the few that had fallen to the ground. He just couldn't help himself huh. 

With Jabber disarmed, Enjin released Umbreakers pressure on his neck just slightly, keeping his eyes on him. 

"Tamsy, you wanna help us out here?"

"I would love nothing more."

And with a spin and flick of Tamsy's vital instrument, Jabber was completely restrained. 

Riyo walked around behind him, seemingly checking the rope. And then, without warning, she slammed the butt of her pistol into his head hard, knocking him out cold and making him crash face first into the ground. Everyone just stared at her.

Bro Santa spoke up. "Yowch. Doesn't that kinda seem like overkill?"

Riyo didn't move her gaze from Jabber's limp body. "He only handed over nine rings. I'm not taking any chances." 

Rudo pulled the rings out of his pocket and counted. "Oh shit, you're right. Asshole!"

"Good catch Riyo. Lets get him into the interrogation room and pat him down for anything else before he wakes up. Bro, can you help me carry him?" Bro made a noise of assent and Enjin turned back to Riyo and Rudo. "You guys go check on Zanka, I'll be there soon." 

The reminder that Zanka was alive, was there waiting for them finally registered, and they both stumbled over themselves, sprinting to get inside. 

Enjin wanted to join them more than anything. But he still had a job to do.

"Alright, let's move."

Chapter Text

After a brief choker call to Shikage to make sure Jabber's limp body wouldn't be stopped at the entrance, Enjin entered HQ, and with the help of Bro carried a tied-up Jabber down to one of the holding rooms in the basement, Tamsy trailing behind with instrument in hand. 

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Enjin was surprised but not shocked to see Corvus and Semiu waiting in front of one of the doors to an interrogation room. Semiu eyed Jabber passively, analyzing him even without the use of her vital instrument, while Corvus looked at them all with familiar dark eyes and smiled warmly, always calm and composed regardless of the situation. 

"Good job capturing Jabber, all of you." It hadn't been much of a capture so much as it was a surrender, but Enjin was sure the boss already knew that. "Let's get him in the room before we untie him and check him for any hidden weapons." 

Corvus turned then to address Enjin specifically, and spoke in the same warm tone.

"It'll be a bit until he wakes up, in the meantime you should go check on Zanka, I'm sure he'll want to see you." 

There was a reason Enjin would die for Corvus, beyond just trusting him as a leader. 

"Thanks Boss," He said, and he meant it. "let me know as soon as he wakes up!" Enjin said, already turning around to quickly make his way back up the stairs. 

Enjin wanted to interrogate Jabber. he needed to hear what Jabber had to say for himself, even if he knew it would definitely just make Enjin wanna bash his head in. But Zanka came first. Zanka, who was alive and waiting for him. It almost didn't feel real.

Nearing the top of the stairs, the door opened inwards and Enjin was surprised to see Gris come in, also moving quickly. They both paused for a second on the top few steps, before fear gripped Enjin.

"Is Zanka okay?? What are you doing here?"

"He's fine, he's fine. Don't worry. He passed out a bit before I got him to Eisha, but she said she didn't think any of his injuries were immediately life-threatening, just needed to make sure nothing was still inside before she started healing. I came to switch places with you so you could go see him, but, I guess I didn't need to. Should have guessed the boss would always be one step ahead." He said with a soft laugh, looking at Enjin.

Enjin could kiss him. He spoke instead. 

"Riyo pistol-whipped Jabber, he's still knocked out. They're patting him down right now and getting him set up in one of the interrogation rooms." 

"Perfect, I'll go help out. Better to have more people, and I'm more familiar with him than most." 

Enjin nodded, and they shuffled around each other on the small stairs, and then Gris paused and looked at him. "Oh, and Enjin, I didn't get to say much to Zanka before he passed out, if he wakes up before I see him, tell him I'm so glad to have him back." 

Zanka was back. 

"I will. Good luck."

"Thanks, I'll tell you when Jabber wakes up."

And with that, they had fully switched spots on the stairs and continued heading to their respective destinations. 

...

Back in the main hallways of HQ, Enjin moved as quick as his legs would allow over to the infirmary, just barely stopping himself from full-on running. 

Zanka was alive. He was gonna be okay. He was alive. 

It was when Enjin had just reached the hall where the open door to the infirmary laid that he suddenly heard a choked scream and the sound of an impact, and then the immediate sounds of chaos following it, yelled words and sounds of struggle overlapping incomprehensibly and Enjin dropped all pretenses instantly and sprinted over like his life depended on it. 

He rushed into the room and saw Zanka, shirtless on the nearest cot, thrashing and yelling as Rudo and Riyo held him down by the arms and shoulders on either side. 

Zanka's eyes were wide and terrified in a way Enjin had never seen, and didn't seem to be taking in anything around him as he tried to wrench himself out of their grip with a single-minded desperation. 

Eisha was to the left of the bed, in between the cot and the door, holding a long pair of slightly bloody forceps in shaking hands, and at the sound of Enjin coming in in she turned around and he could see her left eye was starting to swell and bruise.  

"LEMME GO!! GET OFF ME, DON'T YOU FUCKING- I'LL KILL YOU!! LEMME GO!!" Screamed Zanka, clearly unaware of his surroundings, kicking out towards Eisha. 

"Zanka, its us! It's okay!" Yelled Riyo on the right, sounding just as scared and desperate. "Jabber's gone, you're safe, but we need to get the bullet out before Eisha can heal you, please!!"

"He's not listening, we- shit!" Rudo yelled, almost losing his grip on Zanka's right arm before regaining it. Even clearly weak from fever and bloodloss and with visibly less muscle mass than normal it seemed like it was taking all the strength Rudo and Riyo had to hold Zanka down as he struggled. 

Enjin ran over to the foot of the bed and looked at Eisha.

"You still need to get a bullet out??"

She nodded.

"In his side, I-I tried but he woke up and-"

"LEMME GO!! YER DEAD!!" 

Zanka sounded hysterical, every word filled with just as much anger as it was fear. 

"Can we sedate him??" Enjin asked. He doubted Zanka would let them inject him with something in this state, but anything was better than nothing.

"I think- It's not- with everything in his system, I- but, um, maybe??" 

Now wasn't the time for Eisha to second-guess herself. 

"Eisha. Look at me. You know this stuff best, and I trust you. Do you think its safe to sedate him?" 

"I- ...no. No, I don't. I'm sorry!" She seemed close to tears. 

"Okay, I'll grab his legs and try to keep him still while you get the bullet out. You can do it Eisha, I know you can." 

"O-okay." She seemed to steel herself and the shaking in her hands lessened slightly, though she still looked sick. "Okay."

Enjin moved over to the right side of the bed with Riyo, and waited until Zanka's kicking legs were in a good spot before he grabbed his boots at the ankles, trying to straighten his legs out and hold them to the bed so Eisha could access his abdomen. 

As soon as Enjin did, Zanka started thrashing with even more fervor, if that was even possible, and his voice went from angry-terrified to absolutely petrified. 

"No, NO!! Don't- NO!! Lemme go!!" Zanka half-screamed half-sobbed, and Enjin felt like the biggest monster in the world, but still he kept his grip. 

"I'm sorry kid, I'm so sorry, it'll be over soon I promise, just hold on." Enjin couldn't help but speak, even knowing full well that Zanka couldn't hear him. 

Zanka kept trying to move, and Enjin realized even like this Eisha couldn't get safe access to his wound, Zanka's midsection turning from side to side as he writhed and causing more a bit blood to leave the bullet wound on the side of his abdomen with each turn. Shit, he was just hurting himself further. 

Enjin made sure Zanka's legs were straight, then maneuvered so he could raise a leg onto the bed and keep them trapped under his own bent leg, half sitting on Zanka's knees so he could free his hands and hold Zanka's hip steady with one arm on the side without an injury. 

"NO!!" Sobbed Zanka, and Enjin was horrified to see tears in his eyes. "I can't- please!!" 

Riyo kept talking to him, trying to calm him down and snap him out of it, but her words fell on deaf ears.

Eisha moved quickly, foreceps entering the hole in Zanka's side as she moved it steadily and with concentration, flinching but not pulling back even when it caused Zanka to scream out a wordless cry, tears running down his face. 

It only took a couple seconds but her eyes widened and she tightened her grip before pulling out the forceps again, this time with a small bloody piece of metal held between them.

"I-I got it!" 

She set the foreceps down quickly on the small cart of supplies next to the bed while her vital instrument activated, black plug reaching out toward one of the many available outlets and plugging itself into the socket. Eisha put two hands on Zanka's stomach before taking a deep breath and letting the healing electricity flow through her and into Zanka. 

Enjin could feel it moving through him as well, just barely, likely by virtue of his physical contact with Zanka, and whatever minor scrape or ache Enjin wasn't aware he'd had faded quickly and then he felt nothing, save for the feeling of some of his hair raising due to the static.

Enjin watched the bullet wound close up, skin sewing itself back together until it sealed up into a scar and then vanished entirely, the residual blood being the only hint anything had ever been there. At the same time, the redness emanating from what looked like some sort of small round burn wound on Zanka's left shoulder began to retreat, returning the skin to its normal color. 

As soon as Eisha had started using her instrument on Zanka, his thrashing had slowed significantly, and within a few seconds his clouded eyes had rolled back into his skull as he went limp, head falling back against the pillow, unconscious again.

A shaky breath of relief went around the room and everyone but Eisha slowly let go of him, though Riyo kept a hand on the side of his neck. 

Rudo broke the silence first, horrified.

"...Okay what the fuck. The hell was that?"

Enjin wished he knew. 

Eisha continued to heal, and the flushed redness of Zanka's face and neck retreated, as did the thick line of irritated skin that seemed to wrap all the way around his throat that Enjin had missed before, since Zanka's chin had been tucked to his chest, and Enjin hated to think about what might have caused it. The purple bruising on his wrists and the almost matching color of his eyebags started to fade, and some red returned to his pale lips and fingers. The mark on Zanka's shoulder looked months older and more healed but it stayed, meaning it had already scarred before Eisha started healing.

Zanka's breathing evened and his shoulders relaxed in his sleep. He was still grimy and clearly exhausted, his eye bags mostly faded but not gone entirely, but overall he looked significantly healthier than he had when they'd found him. Significantly more alive.

After maybe a minute Eisha stopped and opened her eyes. She lifted her hands off Zanka's stomach and brought them back in front of her, wringing them nervously.

"That's all I can do, I'm sorry. He's still got some trace poisons in him but just barely, I couldn't figure out what they were, I'm so sorry." 

"You don't need to apologize Eisha, you saved his life. Thank you." Riyo said sincerly, if somewhat somber. One of her hands was still resting on the side of Zanka's neck, and Enjin wondered if she was feeling his pulse. 

Eisha avoided eye contact and Enjin walked to the other side of the bed to put a hand on her shoulder, making her look up. 

"Riyo's right, thank you Eisha. I don't know what we would have done without you, seriously."

She fidgeted, looking horribly guilty. 

"I just made things worse though, I should have found some way to anesthetize him before removing the bullet, it's just- it can be really dangerous when it interacts with other compounds and he was unconscious so I thought- but, I made the wrong choice, a-and I hurt him. I'm so sorry." 

"You didn't make the wrong choice though." Spoke Rudo harshly, and she looked at him, as did Enjin. Rudo was staring down at the bed, with the scowl Enjin knew meant he was looking for the right words to say. "You said you didn't know what Jabber pumped in him, so if you'd given him something to keep him asleep or numb the pain or whatever he might've just died from it right?" 

Eisha was quiet, and Rudo kept talking, gloved hands forming loose fists at his side. 

"Zanka would rather be in pain than dead, so. Don't say you made the wrong choice." 

Enjin smiled, despite everything. Rudo had come a long way when it came to comforting people, and even if he was still a bit brash it was clear he was trying. Enjin stepped over and ruffled Rudo's hair, causing him to grumble and swat at Enjin's hands, ducking out of the way. Enjin looked back at Eisha, who seemed unsure.

"Yeah, what Rudo said! You did the best you could Eisha, and I'm sure Zanka will tell you the same when he wakes up." 

(When. Because Zanka waking up, Zanka talking to them, Enjin hearing his voice again was a when now. Against all odds.) 

From this side, he could see Eisha's injured eye better, which had only gotten worse. 

"And I'm sure he'll apologize like crazy about that eye, too." 

Eisha brought a hand up to her swollen left eye like she'd forgotten it was there, even though there was no way it wasn't already impacting her vision. 

"H-he doesn't need to do that, it was my fault, really." 

"Good luck trying to convince him that." Enjin joked lightly. 

It was too true though, when Zanka woke up and realized he'd given Eisha a black eye the guilt would probably eat him alive. Nothing would be able to convince him it wasn't his fault, and Enjin really wished –not for the first time– that Eisha was able to use her powers on herself, not just because he didn't want her to be in pain, obviously, but also because Enjin knew when Zanka saw it he'd be inconsolable, and the kid had enough to deal with already after going through....whatever he'd gone through. 

Whatever it was, it had clearly been pretty rough. Enjin was sure the sound of Zanka's voice crying and begging for them to let go of him would haunt him for a long time. 

Enjin looked over at Riyo, who had hardly moved since Zanka passed out again. Other than looking up to comfort Eisha, she hadn't taken her eyes off Zanka a single time, and she hadn't quite relaxed like everyone else, tension still in her jaw and something like horror still behind her eyes. 

Enjin caught her eye and tilted his head subtly, and her gaze flitted over briefly at Eisha and Rudo before she looked down again, not saying anything. Huh. 

Enjin looked over instead at the small pile of clothes and bandages on the ground next to the bed. The top half of Zanka's uniform and his undershirt, now cut up and completely unwearable. Not that it was very wearable before, dirty and bloodstained and full of holes, but the problem remained that they had nothing to re-dress him in. 

"It'll probably be a while 'til Zanka wakes up again, right?" Enjin asked Eisha, and she pulled at her sleeve nervously.

"Um, I think so. He was pretty exhausted, and only more so after- ...all that. He should be sleeping for a long while." 

"Okay, good. Rudo, you wanna go into Zanka's room and get him some fresh clothes to change into? I think he'd appreciate not waking up shirtless." 

Rudo nodded, seemingly glad to have something to do with his restless energy.

"Yeah, I'm on it." And Rudo left.

Enjin turned back to Eisha.

"Thanks again Eisha, seriously. Sorry to make you deal with all this so suddenly, I know it was pretty intense. You should take a few minutes to relax, maybe go get yourself a drink or something from the kitchen, Riyo and I can watch over him in the meantime, and we'll call if anything happens."

"Oh. If, um. If you're sure..."

"Yeah, we'll be fine, right Riyo?"

"yeah." She was quiet, still not taking her eyes off Zanka. 

At Riyo's quiet response Eisha looked like she wanted to say something, but ultimately decided against it, giving them both a quick bow with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Okay, please let me know if he wakes up!" 

"Will do. Thanks again for everything."

With one final lingering look at Riyo, Eisha left the infirmary, and if there was any doubt she'd missed Enjin's hint, the fact that she closed the door behind her eliminated it, and Enjin was grateful. People made Eisha nervous, but unlike her brother she was adept at reading them. His team knew each other well. 

Enjin looked at Riyo. 

"So?"

She moved her hand off the side of Zanka's neck and closed it into a fist, staring at the area where it had been like she was trying to burn a hole through it. 

"He-" She breathed, trying to control herself. Enjin gave her time. Finally, she moved her eyes away from Zanka and looked at Enjin with an expression he hadn't seen in years. "Enjin. I need to kill Jabber. I should have shot him in the head when I had the chance, that was my mistake, but I can find a way to do it now. Would you be able to get a key to the room he's in?"

Enjin would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to tell her yes. He'd almost killed Jabber himself, and he was sure when Jabber woke up and started talking to them the urge would revive itself several times over. But they couldn't. 

"The cleaners don't kill, Riyo. We're not the Hell Guard, we dont get to be judge, jury, and executioner. I want him dead too, but-"

"Then I'll quit the cleaners. I don't care. Enjin, you don't get it, you didn't-" She got quieter. "You didn't see it. After we cut his shirt and the bandages off, Eisha tried to get the bullet out and he woke up and he was just..."

Enjin nodded, remembering. 

"He was terrified." Enjin said quietly. 

"No. He was angry. He had this...feral look and he just started attacking, and Rudo and I had to pull him back and hold him down, and then he was terrified. That's when it started, when we grabbed him. And then, when you had to hold down his legs and his hip he just-"

She cut herself off, not willing to keep going. Probably because that would make it more real. Enjin really hoped she wasn't hinting at what he thought she was.

"And to top it all off he had these- these marks on his neck." Riyo motioned toward the area her hand was resting on before, which now just revealed plain, unmarked skin, and Enjin suddenly realized she hadn't been feeling Zanka's pulse earlier, she'd been hiding whatever was there from everyone else until they were healed. "And they looked like...they were hickeys, Enjin. Or bruises that looked a hell of a lot like hickeys." 

A lot of things were starting to make sense and Enjin hated all of it. He felt sick. 

"You think Jabber-?"

"I don't know. But I wouldn't put it past him. Fucking freak has always been obsessed with Zanka." Enjin was glad he'd already vetoed killing Jabber before Riyo had started speculating, because if she'd asked him now he probably wouldn't have been able to say no. Riyo continued talking. "But even if it wasn't that, he still hurt him. Bad. Whatever he did, he needs to pay for it." 

Just then, the door opened and they both did their best to school their expressions as Rudo came back in with a stack of neatly folded clothes, giving each other a quick "we'll talk about it later" look. 

Rudo didn't need to know about their speculations. Both because he didn't need to carry the weight of something that might not turn out to be true, and also because if it did turn out to be true (The very thought made Enjin want to throw up and put a hole through a wall. Or Jabber.), then Zanka deserved to be able to decide for himself who knew. 

Rudo set the pile of clothes down on the small table next to the bed.

"I wasn't sure what to grab, so I just got a few things. Woulda been more if someone hadn't been stealing his clothes." He said, sending a scowl with no heat behind it to Riyo. She cracked a small grin at the action.

"Hey, that could've been anyone. Not like his room is locked any more."

"I saw you wearing his cardigan thing yesterday."

She shrugged, carefree and smiling. Mask fully back on.

"I like the smell of his detergent."

"We all use the same detergent."

"Nah, he has his own special stuff. No clue where he gets it." She paused. "Damn, I'm gonna have to give that back too now, huh." She looked down at Zanka again and softened, running a hand through his hair. "Guess it's a good trade, though."

Rudo made a "Hmph" sound, but also looked at Zanka and Enjin could see the relief in his eyes, even if it didn't quite show in the rest of his face.

Enjin just looked at them all. Zanka was back. The team was whole again. They no longer had to ration what was left of his incense to keep the smell of him from slowly fading from his sheets and clothes, they no longer had to worry about keeping the dust from settling in his room. He'd be able to breathe life back into it, a room again instead of a time capsule. He'd be able to breathe life back into them. Enjin would be able to hear him training at ridiculous hours of the morning and would actually be able to go down and get him to stop. Because now he would actually be in there.

Damn, Enjin must have gotten some smoke in his eye before. 

An incoming transmission sounded from his choker and he reached up to it, accepting the call, but not before swallowing and making sure his voice would come out normal.

"Hello?"

Gris's voice sounded out from it.

"Hey, Jabber just woke up, it'll be another few minutes before the interrogation, but I thought you'd wanna know."

"Thanks, I'll be down there soon."

"Sounds good." 

He looked over at Riyo and Rudo. Riyo waved him off. 

"Go. We got it. I'm gonna see if I can get any of those cloth rags from Eisha, try to clean him up a bit. Go give Jabber hell." 

He nodded, moving to leave the room. In the doorway, he turned to take one last look at the three of them, Riyo already sorting through the clothes Rudo had brought, and Rudo looking at Assistaff from where she was propped up against the wall next to the bed. Zanka sleeping peacefully between them. Yeah, he was in good hands. He smiled to himself, and continued out of the room. 

He headed through the halls, and when he got near the stairwell, his choker buzzed again, and he answered.

"Go for Enjin."

Semiu's voice crackled out of the choker. 

"Glad you're feeling chipper. Jabber's up."

"Yeah, Gris told me already, I'm on my way."

"Of course he did."

"I'm gonna ignore that, is it me and you on interrogation then?"

"Yep, I already took a look at him with Eyes, I'll give you the rundown once you get down here."

"Sounds good, see you in a sec." Engin said, hanging up as he opened the door to the stairwell and headed down.

...

At the bottom of the stairs, in front of the door to the interrogation room, stood Gris, Semiu, and Tamsy. Corvus must have already returned to his office then, and Bro probably went back to Dear. 

"How's Zanka?" Asked Gris, as soon as Enjin was close enough. Enjin hesitated for just a moment, and Gris's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly in response.

"He's fine. He's good. Still asleep for now, but he'll be fine. Eisha healed him up." 

"That's wonderful to hear." Chimed in Tamsy from the side. "I was so worried when I saw the state Jabber left him in, just dreadful."

Enjin frowned at the reminder. 

"Yeah. Has he said anything to you guys?"

"Nothing useful." Gris answered. "He didn't have anything on him when we checked him either, except a remote and some sort of keycard. And two pairs of car keys."

Semiu put a hand on her hip.

"Yeah, someone should really go check that car. Gris, Tamsy, y'all wanna handle that while Enjin and I are in there?"

"Sure." Agreed Gris immediately, while Tamsy seemed a bit more hesitant, but only for a moment, before he nodded too, giving his signature smile.

"Of course. Best of luck."

Enjin waited until Gris and Tamsy were mostly up the stairs before he looked to Semiu.

"So, what'd you see?"

"Well, physically, he's not in the best shape. He's got pretty deep bruises on his wrists and ankles, plus a few...." She cleared her throat. "various injuries on his neck, and he's got a gunshot wound going all the way through his right arm above the elbow." 

Huh. Those all sounded way too similar to Zanka's own injuries. Enjin was getting more puzzle pieces and none of them seemed to fit together. Semiu kept talking.

"Other than all that, even without using Eyes I can tell that he's dehydrated, hungry, and critically in need of a shower. I mean seriously. Yikes." 

"And mentally?"

"The guy's got issues, obviously. Definitely got a couple screws loose up there. He's obsessive, he has almost no impulse control, and he really likes pain, though weirdly enough it seems to be more of an active choice he makes than an innate reaction? I think it gives him a sense of control over it, and there's definitely a sensory-seeking aspect to it as well, he feels like he needs it to function. No clue why."

"Sorry, you're saying he chooses to get turned on when he gets hurt?"

"I did say he had issues."

"Eugh, clearly."

"I got the sense some pretty bad stuff happened to him when he was young. If I had to guess I'd say the pain thing is likely a trauma response, or a coping mechanism."

Enjin scoffed. 

"Oh great, so the psycho's got a tragic backstory, guess that makes everything he did a-okay then!" 

Semiu crossed her arms, raising a brow at him.

"That's not what I'm saying and you know it. Don't take this out on me."

Enjin sighed, rubbing his eyes and wishing he had a cigarette.

"I know, I know. You're right, I'm sorry, it's just..." He heaved out another sigh, not wanting to think about what had happened in the infirmary. "I'll tell you later. What else?" 

"Well, the guy's a genius, no doubt about it. Probably always has been, but I think because of that he finds most people boring cause they have no hope of ever matching up to him. He craves an equal, and for better or worse, he sees Zanka as that. More solidly now than ever for some reason. When he fights he wants to lose, wants to get hurt, but it annoys him to have to hold back to make that happen, so he seeks out strong people. He loves fighting and inflicting pain on people but...it's weird."

"Weird how?"

"He's got way less malicious intent than I expected, for one. Same with hatred and anger. And what was there mostly seemed to be pretty new. Honestly, a big portion of the emotions I sensed all seemed to be pretty new, like a lot had changed in him in a pretty short period of time, it's bizarre."

"What do you mean?"

"Hard to say for sure, I think....It feels like something really bad happened to him, but also something really good? Dude's a cocktail of complicated emotions and mental issues."

Enjin snorted, humorless.

"Yeah, checks out. Damn psycho..."

"Y'know, I don't think he is actually, not clinically at least. He has way less psychopathic traits than I expected given what y'all told me about him. He actually has a lot of empathy, in the sense that he can feel what others do when he wants to, I think he just doesn't care most of the time, especially if he deems those people to be weak or uninteresting. He's surprisingly honest too, doesn't feel much of a need to lie about anything or manipulate anyone, though lately I can tell he's been pretty conflicted, he's hiding a part of himself that scares him."

Enjin perked up. Maybe they could use this.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"He's in love."

What.

"I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong. Love??"

"Yep, plain as day. Caught me off guard too." 

"...With Zanka."

"Seems that way."

"You sure it wasn't just obsession that he thinks is love?"

"Oh there's obsession too. Lots of it. Maybe more than anything else. But there's love. Real, honest love. And he's terrified of it." 

"So that's why he took Zanka?"

"I'm not sure. Honestly? I'm starting to think he might not have."

"The hell? Who else would it have been then? The other Raiders? You think he went rogue?"

"Mmm, I don't think so. It's weird. I can't quite explain it, and I get the feeling we're not gonna get any real answers 'til Zanka wakes up, but I'm curious to hear Wonger's side of the story." 

"Yeah, same here. Boss cleared us to go in?"

"Yep."

"Good. I'll let you take the lead on questioning, I got a feeling the guy's just gonna piss me off."

"That does seem to be his specialty. But you gotta remember to keep a cool head, don't let him get to you."

"I always keep a cool head." 

Semiu just stared at him, unimpressed.

"...Fine, I'll keep cool."

Semiu nodded, and opened the door. 

They entered the room and behind a table, tied to a metal chair Enjin knew was welded to the floor, sat Jabber. His hands were secured behind his back to the chair with rope, and more rope was looped around his midsection, keeping him locked in place. Now that he knew what to look for, Enjin noticed the bullet wound he'd missed earlier, having mistaken the blood for Zanka's. He didn't feel any sympathy as he looked at it. 

He also noticed the state of Jabber's neck under his hood, which before had been mostly concealed by his wicks and the shadow of his jaw, and finally understood what Semiu had meant about his neck having "various" injuries. He had a matching ring of irritated skin wrapped around it just like Zanka had, but on both sides of his throat were a series of dark bruises all over. Hickeys. Just like Zanka. Though unlike the ones Zanka had apparently had, Jabber's were so abundant Enjin was shocked he'd ever managed to miss them. Looking closer, he could even see a number of fading bite marks. What the hell. 

Jabber grinned at them as they walked in and sat at the other side of the table in regular chairs.

"Finally done makin' me wait then, huh? Honestly, y'all are mad rude, knocking me out like that even after I let you tie me up." His tone was light and teasing, as if he was entirely unconcerned with being at the cleaner's mercy. "What if I got brain damage or something?"

"What a shame that would be." Enjin muttered sarcastically, glaring at him, and Jabber laughed. The sound was grating.

"I can see why Zan-zan looks up to you so much, you got that same fire behind your eyes. I like his better though, not gonna lie."

Oh absolutely not. Zan-zan was their stupid nickname for Zanka, when the hell had Jabber even picked that up?! Enjin could feel himself getting angier, before Semiu tapped his foot under the table. He glanced her way briefly, though her eyes were still on Jabber, and he calmed himself down. Right, right. Keep a cool head. Ugh.

"Ohhh, good cop bad cop, I love this one! Though I prefer bad cop bad cop, its way more fun that way."

Semiu didn't rise to the bait, keeping her gaze, as well as her tone, calculating and unreadable. 

"We got a few questions for you, Wonger. Why'd you kidnap Zanka?"

"I didn't."

"Bullshit." Enjin growled.

"I'm bein' honest. Ask your friend if she thinks I'm lying, she looks like the type who'd be good at sniffin out that sorta thing. Or just ask Zanka, he'll tell you the same. How's he doing by the way? Y'all fix him up yet?"

Enjin wanted to punch him, and he was glad Semiu took the lead and spoke instead. 

"How sweet of you to be concerned. How bout you answer our questions and maybe we'll tell you?" 

Jabber looked at both of them, slightly smug look still on his face, though his eyes were analyzing. 

"Hmmm. No way he's dead, he wouldn't let a wound like that kill him after everything, plus y'all would be wayyy more pissed if he bit it. Nah, he's good huh." He squinted at Enjin. "Well, maybe not good, but he's gonna be just fine, probably just unconscious and in the meantime y'all are questioning me, right?" 

Damnit. Enjin was sure his displeasure was showing in his face because Jabber just laughed.

"I got it, didn't I? Y'all gotta work on your poker faces. Still though, I'll play along. What do you wanna know?"

Enjin and Semiu shared a look before she spoke.

"You said you didn't take him, so who did?"

"Uhhh, blow dart guy I'm pretty sure. Yeah. Tranq'd him then knocked him on the head with something. Gave him a pretty gnarly concussion for a bit."

"Who the hell is blow dart guy?" Enjin interjected.

"I dunno man, I never learned his name. He's dead now anyway, so it's not like it matters." 

Okay. If Jabber was telling the truth, and that was still a very big IF, Enjin was glad that at the very least the asshole who'd taken Zanka from them was dead. He just wished he'd been the one to kill him, but Jabber had probably taken that too.

"Why'd he take Zanka?"

"Some sciencey bullshit or other, they all droned on and on, used way too many words to say nothing at all, at some point I jus' stopped listening."

"They? How many people were there?" 

"In total?" Jabber thought for a moment, furrowing his brow and biting the inside of his cheek like he was doing a particularly challenging mental math problem, and then shrugged, seemingly giving up. "A lot? The place was pretty big, I don't think we even saw a fraction of the people. I think there were a lot though."

Enjin shared a look with Semiu. This was an organized attack, likely by a large group. That spelled trouble. Enjin leaned forward.

"This place, what ward is it in? Could you point it out on a map?" 

Jabber snorted.

"Oh man, I could try, but I doubt y'all would be able to find anything even if I did. 'Cept rubble I guess. And ash. And maybe some bodies if you're lucky. Actually- parts of bodies probably." 

"What? What do you mean?" Enjin questioned.

"I mean most of 'em probably got crushed, but I think there were a few above ground that probably went flying, which- man, I wish I'd been able to see that. But Zanka was kinda bleeding out so I didn't really get to enjoy it. No way they stayed in one piece though. I wonder how far they went..."

Enjin was at his limit.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" 

"Okay." Semiu said, and Enjin could tell even she was losing patience with Jabber's antics. "I think we should back up a bit. How'd you find Zanka?"

"I didn't really find him, they brought him to me. Put him in the cell right next to mine. We were roomies." 

Great, now there were cells? It seemed like every answer Jabber gave just brought more questions with it. 

"How about this?" Enjin grit out through his teeth. "You just start at the beginning and go from there?" 

Jabber looked at Enjin impishly, and he realized "the beginning" was definitely vague enough for Jabber to take advantage of it and say some stupid shit, and he got ready to restrain himself from leaping over the table and throttling him when he did. To his surprise though, Jabber apparently decided to exercise restraint, and shrugged.

"Aight. About...a month ago maybe? I got knocked out in my apartment while testing a new paralytic for Mankira. And when I woke up I was in a cell, no choker and with this big collar thing 'round my neck instead. Weird, but not that weird, y'know? I just figured it was Hell Guard again. Tweedledee and Tweedledum-"

"Who?"

"What? Oh, the guards. Two guys. Pretty big but boring as hell. Anyway they didn't really do anything the first day, just threw a few nutrition bars and a water bottle at me. The second time they came I guess they were pissed I wouldn't stop talking to 'em–" Enjin knew the feeling. "–and they zapped me with the collar. Got my ass good, I ain't even gonna lie. I was too dazed to ask 'em to do it again before they left. But the next time they came they brought Zanka, which was even better!"

Enjin leaned foward, listening.

"They also had him in a collar at that point, and the side of his head was pretty bloody. When he woke up he was pissed. You shoulda seen him..."

Jabber sighed, like the memory was a fond one. Enjin wanted to knock his lights out. Jabber kept talking, oblivious to Enjins growing frustration. Or uncaring.

"He tried breaking the bars, which obviously didn't do shit or I woulda been outta there already, but I did get a nice show. For a guy with twig legs he can kick pretty well." 

Then Jabbers smile took on a different, deeper tone, like he was remembering something. 

"...Yeah, he can kick real well." 

Enjin wasn't even gonna begin to unpack that.

"Anyways, the next day they came and dragged me off to some lab and kept poisoning me til I passed out and then zapping me awake, shit was wild. They did the same for Zanka, but only after they brought me back. Kind of a one-at-a-time deal, y'know?"

Enjin felt horrified.

"They what?" 

"Yeah, with the collars? Oh, right, so we had these collars- wait, no, I mentioned that already huh. Hmm. Did I mention how he punched me? It was awesome, didn't see it comin at all. Totally broke my nose."

Enjin felt like he was struggling to keep up.

"Okay, was that before or after the poison-electricity thing?"

"Uhhh, in between? It was kind of a daily thing, so- wait. No, before, I think actually. Yeah, that was the second day. Huh."

"Which was a daily thing, the guards punching you or the poison?"

Jabber tilted his head.

"The guards? Nah man, that was all Zanka. The guards didn't really do shit besides bring us to the lab for experiments."

Experiments. He said it so casually. Zanka had been kidnapped and experimented on for a month and a half, apparently daily. He tried not to let the horror he felt show on his face, refusing to show any weakness to Jabber of all people, and kept talking.

"Okay, so, let me get this straight. You were both taken to some kind of...prison? lab? And kept there while they experimented on you? What kind of things did they do?" 

Jabber seemed to consider his answer for longer this time before he shrugged again, the movement somewhat stilted by the fact that his arms were still tied behind him.

"Depended on the day. Mostly boring stuff, can't say I really remember."

"I don't think that  last part is true." Mused Semiu, eyes piercing. "I think that's the first lie you've said so far." 

Jabber took a second to respond and looked at her, still grinning but with his eyes narrowed slightly.

"...Those glasses are your vital instrument, right? Think Zodyl mentioned somethin about that once. How do they work?"

Semiu continued to show no reaction, unshakable. 

"What kind of tests did they do, Wonger?" 

"Hmm. Alright. Like I said, it changed. But mostly they were doin tests with our instruments."

"The were testing your instruments? Care to elaborate?"

"Do the glasses let you see through clothes? Cause if they do, I gotta say I'm flattered but you ain't really my type."

Enjin leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, and spoke.

"I saw Assistaff was damaged, did they do the same to your rings? That have anything to do with why you only handed over nine?"

At that, Jabber's consistent infuriating grin faltered just slightly, almost imperceptibly, before returning to his normal expression. Interesting.

"Careful now, I been real nice so far."

"Oh? Did I hit a nerve?" Enjin said sarcastically.

He didn't say anything to that, and Semiu went in for the kill.

"What happened to your pinky ring, Wonger?"

Jabbers smile stayed, though where before it had been a casual, almost teasing grin, now, without changing, it had somehow morphed into something more reminiscient of a predator showing its teeth. A warning. 

He looked at Semiu and Enjin, analytical, then huffed out a sharp chuckle.

"Y'know...Zanka reeeally believed y'all were gonna come save him, didja know that?" 

It took everything Enjin had not to leap over the table and attack him right then and there. Jabber kept talking.

"He mentioned it once, 'round the start of our lil vacay, how it wouldn't be long til y'all tracked him down. Threw it in my face like it was a fact. He didn't tell me exactly when that hope started to die of course, but I could see it. Gotta say, he held on to it for mad long though. Probably longer than y'all deserved, 'specially given how surprised you looked when I brought him here." Jabber leaned forward, teeth showing and eyes shining with scorn. "Makes me wonder, did y'all even bother to look for him, or do you only keep that energy for your lil spherite?" 

Enjin surged forward, chair screeching backwards as he stood, and grabbed the collar of Jabber's shirt with his left hand.

"You little shit-!" 

"Enjin!"

Semiu, now also standing, held the wrist of Enjins right hand, which had been winding up to punch Jabber in the face.

Jabber was laughing, the grating sound of it bouncing off the walls. 

"Aww c'mon, it was just about to get good!" Jabber looked Enjin in the eyes, raising his eyebrows mockingly and tilting his head. "What, did I hit a nerve?"

Semiu increased the strength of her grip on Enjin's right hand, no doubt anticipating how he wanted to rip it out of her grasp and follow through with punching Jabber regardless. 

"Enjin. We should talk outside."

Enjin continued to stare at Jabber, filled with  utter loathing, before harshly letting go of his collar and standing back up straight to walk out of the room, Jabber still laughing until the door closed and the sound was blocked out.

Semiu didn't say anything at first, and Enjin looked at the floor.

"...I know, alright? I shouldn't have lost control. I'm sorry." 

"Nah, honestly? He had it coming. But you know that he was goading you. He's deflecting. My guess is his ring was heavily damaged or broken by whoever took him and Zanka. By his reaction and what I felt with Eyes? My money's on broken."

Despite everything, part of Enjin felt the smallest pang of sympathy for Jabber. Just barely. A broken vital instrument really was a fate worse than death for givers, even if it seemed like Jabber was still able to use it without the last ring given what had happened at the gate. Maybe Rudo was rubbing off on him. 

"So you think he's telling the truth about the rest of it?"

"I woulda stopped him earlier if I didn't. I think we'll get a more coherent story from Zanka once he wakes, but I'm pretty confident in saying he didn't take Zanka." 

"Ugh. None of this makes any sense. Why the two of them? Why did Kuro lie??" 

"I don't know. But we should focus our questioning on things he'll actually want to answer, we can get more details from Zanka later." She looked him up and down  "You ready to head back in?"

Enjin ran a hand through his hair, composing himself.

"Yeah, let's do it." 

They walked back in, Jabber still sitting there with that same stupid grin, and if Enjin hadn't seen the slightest crack in it before, he might've thought Jabber was incapable of making any other expression. 

"Oh boy, round two! Ding ding!"

They both ignored him, settling back into their seats. Semiu spoke first.

"So, Wonger, how did you and Zanka escape?"

He looked Semiu up and down, grin still present but entirely unreadable, then started talking.

"Stole a gun from Tweedledee while he was in my cell and we popped the both of 'em. Then it turned out the remotes were also the keys to the collars so we were able to get those off. Kind of uh, iconic?...no, whats the word? Ironic! Kind of ironic, cause if I'd grabbed the remote during Zanka's first attempt we probably woulda been outta there way sooner."

"Zanka's first attempt?"

"When he- wait, actually. Hold on, gimme a minute." Again, Jabber paused to think, looking like he was turning over an idea in his head. "Yeah, no, I think that's fine. Okay. So the scientists underestimated how soon they needed to refill his tranquilizer, and he ended up stealin a keycard and making a run for it one time when they were bringing him back from the labs. Said he got as far as the kitchen, wherever that was, before they caught up to him, and shot him in the shoulder."

So that's what the mark on Zanka's shoulder was. Another gunshot wound, probably cauterized closed. And there was probably no chance they'd given him any anesthesia for it. Enjin felt sick. Semiu lightly bumped her knee against his under the table, a silent show of support, and steered the conversation back on track. 

"So after you killed the guards, what happened?"

The slightest bit of red appeared on Jabber's cheeks, and if Enjin didn't know any better he'd almost say Jabber looked a bit flustered, before it disappeared and Jabber kept talking. 

"We got the collars off, and went to get our instruments. And get some good ol' fashioned revenge, of course. Dudes needed to pay, big time." Jabber wet his lips, grinning. "And oh man, we got 'em good. Zanka was a freakin vision. Did you know he could dodge bullets?? He was like-" Jabber made a series of sound effects that might have been bullets whizzing by and jerky movements, mostly with his head, since the rest of him was restrained. Enjin felt a vein on his forehead bulge. "It was crazy. Average Joe my ass. Then we rigged the place to blow and got out. Wait, no, that was before the elevator. Eh, whatever. You get the idea." 

"Rigged to blow how?" Asked Semiu.

"Methane. Opened a line to the gas main in one room and started a fire in another, then we just had to wait for them to have a lil rendezvous in the vents and it was lights out for science town. But we were already in the car by then. Plenty of time to spare. Told him we'd be fine, but nooo, we had to play it safe." Jabber rolled his eyes, but there was an undeniable fondness to them that Enjin hated.

It was a lot to take in, and there was a moment of silence where Semiu just hummed and tapped the table with a nail. 

"Alright. Anything else? When did you get shot?"

"When we were driving away. There were a few dudes on the roof with guns, messed up our car pretty bad, I had to steal a new one once we got to the town."

That explained the double pair of keys then. 

"Okay. Is that all?"

"All the important stuff." 

"Hm." Semiu didn't look like she completely believed him, but apparently decided to let it slide for now. "One more question, what exactly is your relationship with Zanka? You carried him back here. Why?"

"Uh, cause if I didn't, dude probably woulda bit it, and that would be lame as hell. Duh. Would you rather I kept him?"

"You've tried to kill him before, I wouldn't think you of all people would care. What changed?" 

Jabber seemed to contemplate for a bit, though whether he was searching for an answer internally or just deciding what he wanted to tell them wasn't clear. 

"He's interesting. Most people aren't. Thought I was wrong about him after that whole thing in Zodyl's lil birdy, not many people can bring out the real me, I assumed he had a second phase too. But he went down way too easy, it pissed me off. I got bored. But he lived, thanks to bang-bang girl, and the next time I saw him, he was different."

Jabber had seen Zanka after the trash beast? He hadn't thought they'd interacted since then. Zanka had certainly given no indication they had. Did he hide it from them? 

"You fought Zanka again? When?" He asked.

"Nah, nah, not me. Just watched him from a distance, he was with the bandana guy and his lil leash kid. I was curious, I'm not usually wrong about people. And lowkey, I was kinda surprised he was still kickin. Sturdy dude I guess. Thats when I realized."

Jabber had a shine in his eyes, and there was something in them that even Enjin could recognize, and he resented it. 

"He gets stronger after every loss. He didn't let it keep him down for a second, got right back to it. He's stronger now than when I fought him then, and he's only gonna get stronger. I wanna keep fighting him, cause I know it means eventually he'll be able to beat my ass into the dirt. And it's gonna be great. Call it an investment, but I ain't lettin him die before he gets to that point." 

"There's more to it though, isn't there." Probed Semiu.

"Is there?" 

"You care about him."

Again Jabber took a moment to reply, looking at Semiu, and Enjin got the sense he was trying to work out exactly how much he could get away with. 

"That's a bold claim, miss glasses. What makes you say that?"

"Am I wrong?"

"Depends on what you mean by care."

"I think you know exactly what I mean, but I could say it more succinctly if you'd like."

Enjin just watched the back and forth, wondering who would win the verbal tug of war. Jabber snorted.

"God damn y'all are annoying, the Raiders don't do this shit y'know." He rolled his eyes. "Y'all know its an interrogation and not some slumber party, right? No wonder Zanka isn't reaching his full potential if y'all are this soft."

"You love him."

That seemed to genuinely catch Jabber off guard and he barked out a laugh.

"Oh man! If you wanna call it that, go right ahead I guess, but I'd love to see Zan-zan's face when you tell him that. Come back an' recreate it for me when ya do."

"What would you call it then?"

"Can't say I really give a shit, labels like that are just ways for boring people to dumb down complicated things so other people can understand them. Me and Zanka don't gotta call it anything, cause no one needs to understand what we got goin on besides us."

"So there is something between you two."

"Sure there is, why? Does it bother you that mister perfect is runnin around with a big bad Raider?" 

Semiu leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, and even though Jabber had gotten the last word in it was clear she'd won. 

"Alright, I think we're done here for now. Thanks for your cooperation, Wonger. We'll send our doctor in to fix you up in a minute."

"No need, I'd like to keep some souvenirs." He said with a wink.

"No please, I insist. Wouldn't be very 'soft' of us to let someone in our care stay injured, now would it?"

Jabber's eye twitched. Got him.

Semiu rose from her chair to exit and Enjin followed. Petulantly, he couldn't resist giving Jabber a quick double middle finger while Semiu's back was turned, and Jabber choked out another surprised laugh, and then they both left the room. 

He and Semiu stood in the hallway, out of view of the small window in the door to the interrogation room, despite the fact that it was one-way. Enjin patted his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter, and pulled them out, realizing as he picked a cigarette that he'd forgotten to turn over a lucky one for this pack. Damn. He lit it up and took a deep inhale while Semiu rolled her eyes. He exhaled, feeling slightly better, before he started talking.

"Well. That was....interesting." 

Semiu exhaled a small laugh through her nose, shaking her head and readjusting her glasses.

"That's one word for it. We'll probably have to do another round after hearing Zanka's side. I'll call a couple more people to start watch shifts, then I gotta go make a report to the boss, I assume you're gonna go back to Zanka?"

"Yeah, it'll be a bit til he wakes up, but I don't wanna miss it when it happens."

She nodded.

"Makes sense. Let me know when he feels up to talking about what happened, the boss wanted to be there for it."

"Yeah, will do." 

Enjin looked back at the door, frowning. Based on Jabber's side of the story, and how much it seemed to affect even him, Zanka's experience had probably been an absolute living nightmare. He felt horrible about the fact that he'd have to relive it when he told them, and he could only hope it wouldn't traumatize him further. He wished Semiu's instrument could see memories, it would make everything so much easier. But of course nothing ever seemed to be easy for Zanka...

"Oh, Enjin, there was one more thing I noticed about Jabber that I forgot to mention." 

He looked back up at her, confused.

"Yeah? What?"

She gave him a small grin.

"Dude needs a retwist like crazy."

He burst out laughing. 

...

When he got back to the infirmary, Zanka was still sleeping, redressed in his own clothes and looking much cleaner, and surrounding him were Riyo, Rudo, Eisha, and Gris, who was apparently back already from checking the car.

He waved as he entered and pulled up a chair to join them.

"Yo. No change I'm guessing?" He asked, mostly to Eisha, who was the only one still standing. 

"No, there's a good chance he won't wake up until tomorrow. His body really needed the rest."

"Yeah, sounds about right... How's the eye?" 

She flushed, holding out a cold compress. 

"It's fine, really. Though August was a little overprotective about it, you know how he gets." She scratched the back of her neck nervously. "I'll have to apologize to Zanka in advance when he wakes up."

Everyone knew August didn't play about his little sister, and Enjin pitied Zanka for the petty revenge August would probably try to enact on him, especially because Zanka was in need of a new uniform. He'd have to try and talk August down before then, maybe bribe him with something. Hm.

"So what'd Jabber have to say?" Asked Riyo, saying his name with poorly disguised contempt, and part of Enjin was surprised she'd been able to hold off asking for even this long. 

He sighed, wishing Eisha didn't have such strict rules about not smoking in the infirmary, and tried to figure out what to say. 

"Hey gang, good news! Jabber didn't kidnap Zanka! Bad news! Some sadistic scientist with a blow gun did and experimented on him for weeks! Good news again though, Jabber didn't assault him! But bad news again, they might be fucking!" Yeah, no way that would go over well.

Enjin sighed again when he realized everyone was still waiting for an answer.

"It's....complicated. But, I don't think Jabber took him."

"Right. Did he tell you that?" Challenged Riyo.

"Semiu agreed. It really seems like it wasn't him." 

"Then who? Someone did this to him. And they've gotta pay for it." 

"We're not sure. But if it helps, based on what Jabber said, I think they've been taken care of already."

"And you're just gonna believe him."

"I trust Semiu's judgement, and I know you do too Riyo. The rest of it...it was pretty messed up, not gonna lie. And I think Zanka should be able to choose for himself how much everyone knows, I'm not gonna take that from him."

"It was that bad?" Asked Rudo, sounding hesitant. 

"I mean, I guess it's subjective, but...it wasn't great." 

Riyo caught his eye, questioning. A silent ask of whether her suspicions had been correct. He gave her a minute shake of his head no and while she still looked slightly suspicious, she relaxed significantly. Enjin turned back to Eisha.

"You said he'll probably wake up tomorrow, right?"

"Um, he should. Tomorrow night, at the latest, I think." She looked up, and seemed to notice everyone's attention was on her, and flushed, quickly looking down again and wringing her hands nervously. "B-but it could also be sooner! I can't say for sure, I'm sorry."

"It's alright Eisha, an estimate's better than nothing." Enjin turned back to the group at large. "We should have at least one person stay awake here just in case he does wake up tonight, so I'll-"

Riyo cut him off. 

"Yeah I don't think so, how many hours of sleep did you get last night?"

"Okay, rude. And I got enough. Trust me Riyo, I'll be fine."

"I'm with Riyo, sorry." Interjected Gris, and Enjin turned to him, betrayed. Gris gave a slight chuckle and held his hands up placatingly. "You need the rest, and the chance of him waking up tonight is small anyway. You'd probably stay up all night, crash tomorrow morning, and then actually miss it when he does wake up tomorrow." 

Enjin hated it when he made sense. 

"I'll do it." Said Riyo. "Today was my day off so I slept in late. I'll be up for a while no matter what."

Enjin sighed. 

"Fine, but if he wakes up you'd better tell me immediately, I don't care what time it is."

Riyo smiled.

"Deal."

Rudo looked down at Zanka, and then back over to Riyo.

"Me too."

"Alright, sure." Riyo agreed. "If he wakes up tonight, I'll take great pleasure in snapping both of you outta REM for a heartfelt reunion. But if I'm asleep when he wakes up tomorrow you better do the same."

Enjin smiled back. 

"Sounds like a deal."

Now all they had to do was wait. 

Compared to what they'd already done, that was nothing. 

Chapter Text

The first clue that something was seriously wrong when Zanka slowly and hazily regained consciousness was that it was dark. 

The cells themselves didn't have any lights, but the permanent fluorescence of the hallway spilled into the spaces between the bars and kept them always dim enough to see regardless of the time of day. It was part of what had made telling time in them so disorienting, likely by design. It had never gone fully dark before. 

And if that wasn't enough, his second clue that something was off was that his body was no longer alternating between feeling feverish and freezing, his skin was no longer permanently clammy, and even groggy from sleep he could tell some of the brain fog had lifted. 

He turned his head to the side so he could ask Jabber what the hell was going on. As soon as he moved though, he noticed he wasn't on the concrete floor. He was laying on something so soft it felt like he was being smothered in a cloud. He looked down, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness as he blinked sleep out of them. He was in a medical bed, and even had blankets on him. The smell of antiseptic invaded his nose and only put him further on edge. Shit. Where the hell was he? 

He turned his head back to the side and frantically looked around in the dark for Jabber. He wasn't in any of the beds next to him. Panic fully started to set in. Waking up to Jabber gone could never be a good thing, because it meant that either wherever Jabber was, Zanka was probably headed next, or, it meant that Jabber was potentially dead being kept somewhere separate from him, and he was alone now, which was even worse.

The dark room was achingly familiar, even though he couldn't remember ever seeing one like it in the facility. It felt like he was missing something big, but he didn't have time to linger on that thought. He needed to get out and find Jabber, now. He kicked the blankets off him, and was surprised to see he wasn't secured in any way to the bed. Their loss, he'd make them regret not taking that precaution. 

There was an empty chair next to the bed, facing it, and he felt sick knowing someone had probably been observing him while he slept. He needed to get out before they came back. 

He hastily moved himself up into a sitting position on the cot, jostling the bed as he did. The sound of something wooden clattering to the floor next to him made him start, and he looked down at what it was, and froze. 

He couldn't believe his eyes. 

Lovely Assistaff, scarred and a bit burnt but still whole, still beautiful, was staring back up at him from the floor. None of what was happening made any sense, but all the same he lunged for her, like if he hesitated for even a second longer the universe itself would realize its mistake and take her away again. 

He held her to his chest tighter than he possibly ever had before. What was happening? What the hell were they playing at?? This was definitely some new sort of test or experiment, and the knowledge filled him with a familiar burning anger.

He heard a door handle turn and angled himself towards it immediately as he tried to figure out what to do in a millisecond, torn between the larger, rational part of him that wanted to get up off the bed and activate Lovely Assistaff to brandish her out in front of him as a weapon, and the smaller, entirely irrational but very loud part that wanted to shield her behind his own body or hide her somehow so that they couldn't just take her from him again. 

Before he could get up though, the door opened and a shorter person –a girl?– with long hair stood silhouetted in the doorway, light flooding in behind them, making Zanka squint as his eyes readjusted, body tensed. He gripped Assistaff and got ready to activate her the second they made a move.

They stopped and stood frozen upon seeing him sitting up in bed, before they spoke softly.

"Zanka?" 

He faltered.

He knew that voice. How could he know that voice??

It took a couple blinks but finally his eyes adjusted to the light enough to take in the person standing in front of him. Still, even if his eyes and ears could comprehend it, his brain struggled to do the same, stuck staring in shock. 

It was Riyo, hair down and wearing the tank top and shorts she usually wore to bed. How the hell was Riyo there? Was he dreaming? 

"...Riyo?" 

Zanka's voice was slightly raspy from disuse, but all the same the sound of it seemed to suddenly break the fragile spell and Riyo rushed over in fewer steps than he thought possible, barreling into him with a crushing hug. 

He flinched just slightly at the contact, but it didn't seem like she noticed, too busy burying her head in his shoulder as she gripped him like he was going to vanish any second. Zanka just sat there, dumbfounded. 

"You absolute fucking asshole, don't you ever, ever disappear like that again you hear me??" Her voice, though muffled, was wet and raw with emotion in a way he'd never heard. "I'm so glad you're okay. I can't believe..." 

He still just stared, and then he realized he should really do something, and awkwardly brought his arms up around her as well, still holding Assistaff. The action just made her hold on even tighter, and a small sob escaped her, pressed into his shirt. 

Right, his shirt. He wasn't wearing his torn, dirty uniform anymore. He was wearing his own clothes. Someone must have gone into his room and gotten him one of the more casual outfits he wore around base. 

For some reason, that was when it actually, finally, clicked. That he was back at Cleaner HQ, that the room he was in was the Cleaner infirmary, and that Riyo, the real Riyo, was actually in front of him.

The escape. They'd made it out. They actually had. It was real.

He breathed out a shaky breath, which quickly turned into several hitched, shakier breaths, and changed his grip from resting on Riyo's back to actually holding her tight, finally reciprocating the hug in full. And then some. His vision got blurry.

It was real. It was real.

Now that the floodgates had opened he couldn't close them, and all the grief he'd been repressing for weeks finally came out at once as he leaned forward with a choked sob, face pressed against the top of Riyo's shoulder, and silently let himself fall completely apart, not caring how embarrassing it was, not caring about anything else as he held her back with an equally crushing grip.

He was out. He was home. 

Zanka's body shook with sobs that were almost completely silent, a habit he'd picked up young and never been able to drop, not that he'd really wanted to. He was sure she could feel the wetness on her shoulder but if she did, she didn't say anything about it, just holding him tight until he managed to get it all out and calm himself down. 

"It's okay, you're okay. You're okay." Her voice was wobbly, and it sounded half like she was trying to convince herself and half like a promise.

It took several more minutes for Zanka to compose himself enough to speak even after he'd fully run out of tears, but eventually he pulled back just slightly, and Riyo seemed hesitant to let him go even that much, but ultimately let him sit back up. He wiped his eyes and nose and watched her do the same, both looking at each other like they couldn't quite believe it. 

"Hey." He said, finally breaking the silence, and she gave a wet laugh.

"Hey." Riyo responded, wiping her eyes again, before punching him lightly in the shoulder. "Ugh, of course you wake up in the two minutes I'm gone for the bathroom. I had this whole thing planned for when you woke up, it was gonna be so dramatic."

"Of course ya did." He laughed quietly, throat still thick with emotion. "Should I try and pass out again? Let ya run it back?" 

She smiled, wobbly, and her eyes shone with unreleased tears. At the look he felt his own eyes wanting to do the same.

"Don't you dare. I had to wait too long for you to wake up already." She wiped her eyes and nose again, sniffling. "Man, we're just a couple of sad sacks, huh?" 

He gave a wobbly smile too, despite everything. 

"The worst. Thank god Enjin ain't here right now, he'd never let us hear the end of it."

Riyo laughed at that, and he'd missed the sound terribly.

Zanka sobered slightly.

"How long..."

"A month and a half. Six weeks exactly tomorrow."

Six weeks. It was within the realm of what he'd calculated, but hearing it confirmed was something else entirely. They were there for over a month. It somehow felt both too long and too short to have contained everything they went through.

They. That was right, Jabber had taken him to Cleaner HQ, he had carried him and Assistaff inside. Shit, what had happened after that? The cleaners didn't kill, but if they'd already given him to the Hell Guard-

"Zanka, that d-"

"Where's Jabber?!"

Riyo blinked at the frantic interruption, then got a dark look at the mention of Jabber.

"Don't worry, he's locked up. We took his instrument and we're keeping constant watch on the room he's locked in. He's not getting out any time soon."

They took Mankira?!

"Is he okay??"

"If- what?!" 

Her incredulous voice snapped him back to reality. Right. Jabber was still one of the cleaner's biggest enemies. Not to mention the last time Riyo had seen him he still hated Jabber. Wait, no, he did still hate Jabber, he just also- ugh. It was too complicated to think about, especially when Riyo was still sputtering.

"Okay seriously, what the hell happened with him? First Enjin comes back from grilling the guy saying he might actually believe some of the shit he was spewing, and now you're worried about him? Him!?"

"I don't- It's not-" He tripped over his words and put his face in his hands, trying to hide any redness before it appeared, and groaned. "It's complicated."

Riyo pushed onwards, always an unstoppable force when she wanted to be, and a hint of desperation seeped into her tone. 

"Explain it to me then, complicated how?"

He couldn't explain it if he wanted to. Part of him didn't even know himself. 

He just shook his head, face still in his hands, and really hoped she'd take the hint and just drop it. 

Instead, Riyo seemed to take it as confirmation of the worst, and when she spoke again after a beat her voice was quiet, and hesitant.

"...Zanka, what did he do to you?" 

He suspected he knew what she was insinuating, and he instantly shot his head back up, shaking it so hard he worried he'd give himself whiplash. 

"Nothing like that!! He wasn't even the- I-" He stumbled over his words, and realized he was just making his case look worse. "Look, that's not what happened at all, okay?" 

Depending on what she meant, it might not have been the fullest version of the truth, in a couple ways, but even if it wasn't, a lie by omission was definitely for the best here, especially with how Riyo looked ready to go kill Jabber herself. Zanka continued talking, trying to pacify her.

"Listen, I dunno what he's told you guys already, but he was just as trapped as I was. We had to work together to get out. He's..." Zanka took a breath, looking down in shame as he made a fist in the bedsheets, the sudden reminder of his own inadequacy stinging once more. "He's the reason I was able to get out at all, okay?" 

He hadn't been enough on his own. He'd managed to get some useful info, sure, but at the end of the day he'd fallen short, and had almost gotten himself killed because of it. It was only after he teamed up with a genius that he'd been able to achieve what he alone had been incapable of.

He was still looking down at the bed but he could feel Riyo's eyes on him, studying him. She spoke quietly again, but with more insistence this time.

"Get out of where? What happened, Zanka? Where were you?  Enjin wouldn't tell me what Jabber told him, said you deserved to tell us yourself, and I've just been waiting for you to wake up and I can't stop thinking about-" 

She cut herself off, trying to stop herself from getting too worked up again, clearly torn between not wanting to overwhelm him and wanting to get answers to questions she'd no doubt had for a while.

"...We thought you were dead Zanka." Riyo said quietly, looking down at the bed. "I...I thought you were gone."

Oh. He had known that there was a good chance they'd just assumed he was dead, but a part of him had always kept a small bit of stupid hope that they hadn't stopped looking for him, even if the rest of him knew they'd never find him, and he had clung to it on his worst days. Idiotic, baseless hope that they hadn't given up on him, even when that was by all means the logical decision. 

Riyo continued talking.

"We looked everywhere, and even after everyone else had given up I still kept looking, but there was nothing, you were just gone, and I-" She swallowed, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. "I didn't know what had happened, and it hurt so bad and I missed you so much and then out of nowhere Jabber just. Shows up with you! And you're covered in blood and you've got a fucking cauterized gunshot wound and a bullet in your stomach and more poisons than Eisha could count in your system and these marks on your neck and you flinched when I touched you and I just-!" She wiped her eyes again angrily, taking longer to collect herself.

Zanka just stared at her, shocked into silence. He didn't know where to begin. He'd known (hoped) that objectively, she would be upset if he died. Of course she would. They were friends, after all, had been for a long time. And obviously if the reverse had happened he'd be destroyed. But in all honesty, he really hadn't ever been bold enough to think his disappearance would hurt her this much. The amount of emotion in her voice, how genuinely devastated she sounded when she talked about not being able to find him, it left him stunned, and feeling sickeningly guilty both at having caused it and at the fact that he'd ever assumed she'd be able to just shrug it off. Even if she really should have. Zanka was nothing special. 

And the second half... he didn't know where to begin with that either. He decided to focus on the one thing that had stuck out, and that was the least complicated to address.

"Ya said I had a bullet in my stomach?"

"Well, okay, not in your stomach, but you know. That area. When we had to..." She paused, and then proceeded a bit more cautiously. "Do you...not remember?"

"Remember what?"

Riyo looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. Uh oh. 

"Riyo. Remember what?"

She still wouldn't meet his eye but took a breath and began talking just as he was about to ask again.

"I'm only telling you this because I know you'd wanna know, but..." She trailed off, before seemingly steeling herself. "Okay, so Eisha had to get the bullet out so you wouldn't heal with it still trapped inside, right?"

Zanka nodded, familiar with one of the few limitations of Eisha's ability, not that it came up often in their line of work.

"Yeah, so she had to get it out first? Was it hard to find, or did it go wrong or somethin?" He put a hand to his side. "I feel fine." 

"You...sorta woke up, as soon as she tried to get it out. None of us expected it, especially with how you looked. You just freaked out and started swinging. I don't know where you thought you were or what you were seeing but you were completely out of it and we had to hold you down to get you to stop fighting, which I think just made it worse. I don't think you could hear a word we said. Honestly, I'm not surprised you don't remember. That's...it's probably for the best." 

Zanka felt sick. He had a vague, intangible memory of various hands on him and a digging pain in his side but it felt no different than any other nightmare. 

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Did I hurt anyone?"

She hesitated again, biting the inside of her cheek once more. Oh no.

"Rudo and I were able to dodge, but Eisha...you got a hit on her before we were able to grab you, just barely."

"Shit. I'm so sorry, is she okay??"

"She's fine, really. Seriously. And she doesn't blame you at all."

"She should." Zanka breathed out, horrified.

"No she shouldn't! You were just....you weren't in your right mind, no one can blame you for that. I'm sorry that we had to hold you down." She looked sick at the memory. "It was..." 

"Who saw?"

He cut her off. He didn't want to think about the implications of Riyo knowing how much being held down had caused him to panic. How even the thought of it now set his heart beating a few ticks faster than it should. 

"...Me, Eisha, Rudo, and Enjin."

So all of team Akuta, minus Shikage. He wasn't sure if it was better or worse that his team had been the only ones to witness him embarassing himself. Though considering Enjin had seen it, probably worse. Fuck. He'd have to work double time to prove himself capable again, and that wasn't even factoring in the humiliation of having been kidnapped for so long.

Riyo, clearly reading his inner turmoil, spoke again.

"If it helps...I don't think Rudo or Eisha saw the marks on your neck. I...I figured you wouldn't want them to know."

Zanka brought a hand to the back of his neck, where the needle and shock prongs had laid, feeling just the slightest difference in skin texture. So they'd scarred then, if only barely. It was surprising that Riyo had even noticed them, and as he looked back to ask about it he noticed her looking confused, eyes moving from where his hand was to the front left side of his neck, and he suddenly realized what marks she was talking about.

He slapped a hand on the left side of his neck to cover the area Jabber had kissed and sucked small bruises into in the elevator hallway. Stupid! Of course one moment of weakness would majorly screw things up for him once he got back, just his luck.

At least he'd gotten Jabber back twofold in the elevator, his neck must have looked even worse. Wait, no, that was so much worse for the both of them. Damn it! He needed to find some excuse, some way to lie himself out of it. But how could he? The evidence was overwhelming. And he always hated lying to Riyo.

"Look, Zanka. I'll be straight up with you, okay?" Uh oh. "And you don't have to answer. Not now, not even ever if you don't want to. Seriously. But." She hesitated. "I've seen this before, it's too familiar for me not to notice. The way you flinched at me touching you, the bruises, how scared you got when we had to hold you down, especially-" She swallowed, and Zanka already knew what she was asking before she even finished. "especially your hips. I just... Did Jabber ever force-"

"No. Not Jabber. I meant it before, it wasn't him, none of it. I promise, Riyo."

"It wasn't him. But it was someone." 

"No! It wasn't-! ...It wasn't like that, okay? It really wasn't. Nothin even happened." To his humiliation, he could hear his throat constricting and he tried to push it back before it revealed far too much. "Nothing even happened. They didn't even do anythin, I was just- I was just being stupid, okay?"

He'd avoided thinking of that day in the medical room as much as possible, though his subconscious seemed to love to torture him with it, and now it was infecting his waking mind as well. It wasn't fair. He had been fine. The only thing more shameful than letting some unfounded fear about something that hadn't even happened mess him up so thoroughly was letting Riyo think that it actually had happened. He was pathetic. They hadn't even touched him. 

"Zanka." 

Riyo's concerned voice was filled with an emotion Zanka knew wasn't pity but was far too close to it, and she took his free hand in one of hers slowly, gently, making sure he saw her every move as she did. A small part of him despised being treated like a child but the rest of him held Riyo's hand like a lifeline and just looked down, not wanting to see if the emotion on her face matched the one in her voice. He didn't think he'd be able to handle it if it was.

"They never did anythin Riyo, I'm serious. They really didn't. I just got in my head about it. That's all."

"Who didn't?"

"The guards, they-"

He held on to Assistaff tight with his free hand, running his thumb along the wood grain to calm himself only to run into deep scratch. Fuck.

"We were in cells, underground. Some sorta lab-facility. I don't know. They took us to the lab every day for...tests." He spat the word out. "They strapped us down for them. And..." 

He could probably get away with just that much. It would explain most of his reaction and he knew Riyo wouldn't push him on it further. But she'd suspect there was more, and that was almost worse.

Riyo waited.

"...And?"

He hesitated again. He hadn't even told Jabber about what had happened when he'd gotten his bandages changed. Zanka had been content to just forget it entirely, but clearly his body had betrayed him once again, and now he just needed to explain before Riyo drew any worse conclusions.

"It was only once. Just one damn time and nothin even happened, I was wrong and it was stupid but I was just..."

He could feel his heartbeat pulsing in his ears at the memory. His brain felt like static. Riyo squeezed his hand and the truth fell out.

"I was scared." He breathed out. "I was scared, Riyo. And they knew it. They knew it, and then they laughed, like it was- and I wanted to-" He knew he was being entirely nonsensical but it was like the sudden fury of the memory cancelled out everything else and he felt an overwhelming numbness wash over him. "And I did. I killed them. Both of them. I shot them in the head."

"Good." Spoke Riyo, with more anger and sincerity than he'd ever heard. "Good." 

He continued talking, the truth coming out like a flood, the numbness quickly being replaced by the almost hysterical need to relieve himself of the weight of it to the one person he knew would be honest with him no matter what.

"It wasn't just them Riyo. We killed everyone. Everyone we could in that place. Not just the ones we had to. And I liked it. Fuck, I reveled in it. I did awful things and I don't feel nearly as much regret as I should. Not at all."

He took a breath, emotion rising once more. "I think...ha.." He looked up at her with a wobbly smile and choked out a laugh, vision blurry from tears waiting to fall. "I think I'm a monster, Riyo." 

Riyo let go of his hand and surged forward into a hug, wrapping her arms around him once more.

"I don't care. I don't fucking care, okay?? Whatever you did, they deserved it. And even if they somehow didn't I still don't care. I would have done the same thing a million times over to bring you back, without hesitation. We can be monsters together. You're still Zanka, okay? You're still my brother. I don't care about anything else." 

The tears finally fell and Zanka let them, holding on to the back of Riyo's shirt. 

"Please don't tell Enjin."

"Trust me, he'd say the exact same thing. But I won't. Not if you don't want me to."

"Thank you." He said quietly.

"Of course." 

Riyo continued to hold on to him and he did the same. 

After a long moment she wiped her nose from over his shoulder and then spoke again, still slightly emotional. 

"You absolutely reek by the way. It's really bad. Even Rudo said something."

Now it was Zanka's turn to let out a wet laugh. 

"Really? That's a new low."

"I know, right? We gotta get you into the shower, I feel like I'm in a polluted zone."

Riyo made no move to let go of him, and he didn't either.

"...Ya gonna let go so I can go clean up?"

"In a minute."


...


Zanka watched the water swirl down the drain, turned lightly brown from the dirt and dried blood still on his scalp, along with who knew what else. 

Steam clouded around him and it was foreign. He usually took cold showers, a remnant of his Hell Guard days that he'd carried over to the Cleaners, and the icy water was both invigorating and a tool to make sure he didn't stay in the communal area any longer than necessary. But when he'd locked the stall and stripped down he'd turned the faucet as hot as it could go, needing the water to burn away the memory of that place. 

He knew, logically, that the water couldn't get hot enough to sanitize. That no matter what he did he couldn't wash off anything deeper than the surface-level grime still stuck in every nook and cranny, but it didn't stop him from trying. He scrubbed every inch of his skin with a soapy washcloth until it was raw, the scalding water making his whole body sting, and it was grounding. 

The steam started to cloud his vision and everything was hot. He'd had to wash his hair twice with the communal shampoo before it even lathered properly, a testament to how greasy it had gotten. He normally used his own products, but in that moment he'd never cared less about something as trvial as shampoo ingredients.

The steam made the air thick and as Zanka stuck his head back under the stream of scalding water to rinse he realized how hard it was getting to breathe.

He felt slightly dizzy and his head and body were overly warm in a way that was all too familiar, and he pulled his face away from the hot water stream. His whole body felt overheated and the humid air was thick, making it feel like he wasn't getting enough oxygen to his lungs.

It was overwhelming and he suddenly needed to get out, just barely having the wherewithal to harshly turn the faucet off before wrenching the stall door open and stumbling out, taking deep breaths. 

The air out there was significantly cooler, and even if he'd managed to steam up most of the bathroom it was nowhere near as condensed as it had been in the stall, and he gulped down the fresh air, stabilizing himself against the wall with an arm. 

A towel was tossed over his head and he suddenly turned red, remembering Riyo had come in the bathroom as well, keeping watch of both the door and Lovely Assistaff. 

He pulled the towel off his head and wrapped it around his waist hastily, looking over to the side where Riyo was leaning against the wall next to Assistaff, her body language casual as ever but her eyes concerned. 

"You alright?"

"I'm fine, I just..." He took a breath. "I'm fine."

Riyo gave him a look that let him know she didnt believe him in the slightest, but she apparently decided to let him get away with it anyway. 

"Okay." Riyo hummed as she turned around, putting her back to him as he grabbed his clothes to get dressed. "Oh, by the way," She said, still turned away. "I really do need to give you that trim soon. The drowned rat look is really not it for you." 

In response he just flicked water from his hair towards her back and she half-laughed half-shrieked. He suppressed a small grin himself.

He finished getting redressed and grabbed Assistaff, bumping Riyo on the shoulder to let her know it was okay to turn around. She swiveled and gave him a quick once over.

"Oh yeah, much better!" Her eyes zeroed in on his hair, still mostly damp. "You totally skipped conditioner though, didn't you." 

Of course Riyo would have noticed that. 

"I'll do it tomorrow." He muttered.

"And do your grand re-entrance with frizzy hair? C'mon, I've got some leave-in stuff in my room."

...

HQ was never truly quiet at night. The doors were nowhere near soundproof and neither were the floors or walls, and even on the rare occasion everyone was asleep at the same time and no faint talking or music could be heard, the muffled sound of snoring and fans provided plenty of white noise, a constant reminder that the building was alive with people. 

Zanka had gotten used to the sound of it a long time ago, it had become silence to him. But after so long in the dead quiet of the cells he could hear it now. 

Riyo walked with him through the empty halls as they made their way to her room, and he couldn't help but look around. It was almost surreal. There were minor differences, new posters on the bulletins, a new lightbulb to replace one that had gone out a few days before he'd been taken that now shined brighter than the ones around it, small inconsistencies. But most things were completely the same. The same HQ from before.

Like nothing had changed. 

...

He sat on Riyo's bed, with her sitting on crossed legs behind him as she worked some product into his hair. He'd tried to insist he could do it himself but Riyo was stubborn, and he'd figured it wasn't a hill worth dying on. Plus, he'd be lying if he said the repetitive motion of Riyo running her hands through his hair wasn't nice, and he found himself slowly relaxing into it. 

He wasn't sure when the last time someone else had touched his hair was. Certainly none of the scientists or guards had. Unless Zanka counted the stethoscope, which he decided he definitely didn't. Not even Jabber had, strangely enough. And with every run of Riyo's fingers through his hair, he felt a bit more tension seep out of him, the feeling not having a foothold to get tangled up in the memories of the lab like so many others. 

Eventually, Riyo finished up and pulled back, and he tried not to let his disappointment show. Apparently not well enough though, because Riyo snorted.

"You're as bad as Rudo." She teased, before pausing. "Oh, actually, speaking of Rudo, I was supposed to call him as soon as you woke up. Enjin too. Whoops."

Zanka was pretty sure it hadn't just been a lapse in memory that had allowed them so much time to have a private reunion, and for him to collect himself, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Riyo moved to the edge of the bed and stood up, reaching a hand out towards him. 

"Okay, I think let's go pay those two a visit."

Zanka looked at the clock. Almost 3am. 

"It's the middle of the night, I don't wanna wake 'em. I can wait 'til morning." 

"Oh absolutely not, do you know how much of a pain it was to convince Enjin to let me keep watch alone tonight cause he needed to sleep? He'd never let me live it down if I went back on my word."

"If he needs sleep then we definitely shouldn't be wakin' him up. I can wait."

"You might be able to, but I doubt he can. Trust me, he'd much rather be woken up." Riyo laughed, already dragging Zanka by the sleeve out of her room. 

...

When they made it to Enjin's room, Zanka worried Assistaff in his hands, running his fingers along the wood trying to calm himself down.

He turned and opened his mouth to ask Riyo if she was sure, but before he could, she pounded three times on the door and pressed her choker.

"Hey, Enjin, wake up, I got a surprise for you." 

It only took a couple seconds before there was a flurry of movement sounding out somewhere behind the door, and then the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps before it was thrown open.

Enjin stood in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep, in a tshirt and sweatpants, and stared at Zanka with wide eyes while Riyo stood to the side and presented Zanka with both hands, grinning. 

Zanka fidgeted with Assistaff, unsure of what to say, and only got as far as "Um," before suddenly Enjin had completely enveloped him. Oh. Enjin was hugging him. Enjin was hugging him!

It was different than Riyo's, more constricting but still comforting, like a weighted blanket. Zanka found himself sinking in to it, holding the back of Enjin's shirt with his free hand and trying to ignore how emotional it made him. Damn, he was really sure he'd gotten the last of his tears out with Riyo, but maybe not. 

"Wish I had a camera. Saps." Riyo teased.

"Oh please, I doubt you were any better." Said Enjin, sounding like he was trying to keep it together. 

Zanka chuckled, and hoped the fact that his face was pressed into Enjin's shirt could disguise how thick his voice was. "She absolutely wasn't." 

Riyo made a fake offended noise in the background while Enjin choked out a laugh, and one of his hands came up to cradle the back of Zanka's head, firm but not overwhelming. Keeping him locked in place, not that Zanka wanted to be anywhere else. 

"I'm so glad you're okay, kid."

Huh. Enjin hadn't called him kid in a long time, mostly because of how hard Zanka had pushed back against it. Somehow he didn't mind it now, though. Part of him did feel like a kid, he felt like he had as a young child when he would wake up in the middle of the night scared of some unseen monster and wrap himself tightly in his sheets pretending it was a hug. But he didn't need to pretend now. The monster was gone, and the hug felt just as good as he'd always hoped. 

"You two have fun crying it out, I'm gonna go grab Rudo." Teased Riyo, voice moving away. 

"You do that." Enjin said with a half-laugh, and Zanka noticed underneath all the emotion how tired he sounded. It was no secret that Enjin rarely got as much sleep as he probably should, but Zanka was familiar with that kind of tired from him, and this was something deeper. That, paired with how he'd looked when he'd opened the door, spoke of Enjin having run himself ragged for a while now, and Zanka couldn't help but feel it was likely his fault. His guilt deepened.

"I'm sorry to just disappear like that," Zanka said, still mostly muffled by Enjin's shirt but loud enough that he knew Enjin could hear it. "I promise I'll make it up t-"

"Don't apologize. You don't have anything to apologize for, okay? Nothing."

If only Enjin knew. No doubt when he found out what Zanka had done during their escape, he'd be repulsed. He might even kick him out of the cleaners, not that Zanka wouldn't deserve it. 

Shame curdled suddenly in his gut as he realized he was taking advantage of Enjin's ignorance of the situation to get comfort from him. He really was pathetic. He should pull back, be upfront about what he'd done. He should be able to look his team leader in the eyes and face the consequences of his actions. 

But he didn't want the hug to end. Didn't want to see Enjin look at him with disgust and betrayal. Funny. Even after everything, he was still so, so selfish. He'd broken the one main rule the cleaners had and now he was betraying the trust of the one person he looked up to more than anything, who saw potential in him when no one else did. And every second he stayed only increased his crime further. And still he held on.

"I'm sorry." He whispered into Enjin's shirt, voice cracking just barely as he did. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey now, what did I just say?" Said Enjin, rubbing his thumb on Zanka's scalp with the hand holding the back of his head. The feeling was nice, and it only made Zanka feel more guilty. "You got nothing to apologize for, I mean it."

Zanka just shook his head no from where it was pressed into Enjin's shirt. 

"Ya don't know that." 

"Doesn't matter." 

"It does! I-"

Fuck. The tears were back in full. He just held the back of Enjin's shirt tighter, half of him hating that he was still taking advantage of Enjin's kindness, and the other half knowing he could not let Enjin see his face like this. 

Enjin pulled back slightly, the hand on Zanka's head moving to his shoulder. 

"Hey. Zanka. Look at me."

Every single cell in Zanka's body wanted nothing more than to continue hiding his face like a coward, but he could never disobey a direct order from Enjin. He peeled himself off of Enjin's chest and took a step back, trying futiley to wipe his face on his sleeve before looking upwards. 

To his shock, Enjin's eyes were also watery, if only just barely. His expression was concerned and relieved in equal parts, and he was looking at Zanka without a hint of the apathy or disappointment his face always showed in Zanka's nightmares. 

"Whatever you had to do, I will never fault you for it. No matter what it was. You made it out, and I'm so proud of you for being able to do that. No matter what it took."

Zanka felt his lip tremble without his permission and he just stared at Enjin with wide eyes, looking desperately for any trace of a lie or deception in his face or words. There had to be. Zanka kept staring, even as his vision got blurry and he felt humiliating tears start to overflow from of his still-open eyes. It was all too much. Enjin couldn't possibly be proud of him. Not for this. It was only because he didn't know. But just like with the hug, it felt so good that he couldn't help but bask in it, even if he felt like a monster for doing so. 

"Oh crap. Okay. Is that a good cry or a bad cry??" Both. "Would a hug...help? Hurt? Shit, I probably shoulda asked that before. Uhh, okay, I'm just gonna put my arms back around you and if you're not feeling it you got full permission to punch me in the stomach, alright?"

Zanka let out the smallest laugh at the idea that he'd ever choose to hurt Enjin, and leaned forward, resting the top of his head against Enjin's shoulder, glad to be able to hide his face again, and giving him the silent okay. Enjin gingerly brought his arms up around Zanka once more.

"Okay, good." Enjin said, relieved. "Phew."

Zanka brought his arms back around Enjin as well, holding on a bit tighter and telling himself he only needed a few more seconds, then he'd let go and put himself back together. Just a few seconds and he could be okay again. 

"I'm not going anywhere kid, don't worry. And neither are you for the foreseeable future. Hope you're ready to have half a dozen people watching you like a hawk."

Zanka let out another small laugh. Then, he took a deep breath and finally pulled back to stand up normally, wiping his eyes and composing his expression back into something hopefully more professional. 

"Okay, I'm good." He took a deep breath and tried for a small smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry bout that, I dunno what came over me."

Enjin's face twisted and he opened his mouth to speak, before a pair of loud footsteps quickly echoed towards them and they both looked over to see Rudo running down the hall to them in a t-shirt and boxers. He skidded to a stop in front of them, and Riyo, moving silent as ever, jogged up a few steps behind. 

Rudo stared at Zanka, mouth agape, and Zanka noticed he had a bit of unwiped drool that had dried at the corner. Gross. He hated how fond it made him feel to see it. Rudo looked him up and down, and then his eyebrows scrunched as he looked at Zanka's face and turned towards Enjin. 

"The hell'd you say to make him cry?" He said accusingly. 

Riyo burst out laughing as Zanka and Enjin both tripped over themselves to deny it, their words overlapping incomprehensibly while Rudo just looked at them like he didn't believe a word they were saying. 

The chaos eventually calmed down, mostly due to the sound of someone throwing a pillow at their door further down the hall and yelling to keep it down, and Zanka crossed his arms with a scowl, looking away.

"Damn brat." He grumbled.

"I was trying to be nice, asshole!"

"How was that bein' nice??" 

Rudo pointed an accusatory finger at Enjin.

"He was being stupid!! The hell is your problem?!" 

"My problem???"

Enjin, apparently having given up on defending his honor to Rudo, had joined Riyo in her quiet laugher off to the side, watching the two of them. 

Zanka turned pink as he noticed, glaring at them lightly. 

"Oh yeah, yuck it up. At least he's bein' normal, instead of cryin' all over me." Zanka said, ignoring the fact that it had been him that did most of the crying. 

"You have no proof." Grinned Enjin.

Riyo parroted his grin, making an "X" with her arms. "Yup. No proof." 

Then she walked over and ruffled Rudo's hair, an action that made him grumble something unintelligible but that he seemed to begrudgingly allow, cheeks also turning pink. 

"Don't let the tough guy act fool you Zanka, he missed you just as much." 

Enjin joined her, also rubbing Rudo's head. 

"Yeah, poor wittle guy was sooo sad about his big brother Zan-zan, all crying and-"

"I did NOT cry!!!"

A chuckle escaped Zanka that he turned into a cough when Rudo glared at him. His heart felt warm, and apparently he'd truly gotten the last of his tears out with Enjin, because the sight of his team joking around him –something he had really started to think he'd never experience again– made him sure his body would try and embarrass him with another bout of crying if he hadn't fully exhausted himself already in that department. 

Actually, he was exhausted in more than just the crying department, and a yawn made its way to the surface despite an unsuccessful attempt to stifle it, causing Enjin to look over and soften. 

"Still tired huh? Good, me too. Let's get some rest."

Zanka really hated the idea of leaving his team's side so soon, especially because it had been so long since he'd slept on his own, and he had no doubt the nightmares weren't done with him yet, but he needed the rest, and they did too. It wouldn't be fair to keep them up any longer just for his sake. 

He made peace with that and got ready to drag himself down to his room before he noticed Rudo and Riyo shuffling into Enjin's room through the door he was holding open. 

Enjin raised his eyebrows at Zanka.

"You coming?"

Zanka's heart swelled and he went into the room as well, Enjin entering after him and letting the door close. 

He took the opportunity to look around Enjin's room. It was messy, with clothes strewn about everywhere, and smelled overwhelmingly like smoke. The smell was comforting, especially compared to the cloying antiseptic smell of the infirmary. Enjin had a number of posters on the walls, mostly for music, though there were a couple faded pinup posters that made Zanka avert his eyes, and there were a handful of photos on the wall next to his bed that Zanka couldn't quite make out. 

Enjin's bed was big, definitely larger than his own, and Riyo flopped onto it, grinning. 

"Now this is a bed! No offense, Zanka."

He wasn't sure exactly what she meant by that, but couldn't find it in him to be bothered to ask, just rolling his eyes and making his way over as well. 

He set Assistaff gently up against the wall, making sure she was within arms reach, but hesitated at the edge of the bed, doubts getting the better of him for a moment, before Riyo rocked forward, grabbing his sleeve, and pulled him onto the bed face-first as an embarrassing yelp left him, half muffled by the mattress. He peeled himself up and glared at Riyo, along with Rudo, who looked way too amused next to her. 

The lights flicked off and Enjin made his way over to the bed, settling into it. 

Zanka ended up on his back sandwiched between Enjin and Riyo, Enjin laying on his back with one of his arms outstretched above all three of their heads, and Riyo laying on her side, chin on Zanka's shoulder and lightly holding his left arm, with Rudo also on his side, though facing the opposite direction, his back up against Riyo's. 

A small chorus of goodnights were tiredly exchanged in the dark and slowly everyone started to settle into sleep.

Zanka took a moment to try and drink it all in, a part of him still disbelieving, and another part still on edge, even now, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

He stared at the ceiling, exhausted but not willing to give into sleep just yet. Not yet. 

After a few minutes, when he was just starting to be sure everyone else had fully drifted off, he heard Rudo's voice to his left, unusually quiet.

"hey, Zanka?"

He moved his head towards Rudo's direction, just barely, so as not to wake Riyo.

"yeah?" Zanka responded quietly, only to be met with a long silence.

".....nothing." Rudo eventually said. "forget it."

...He'd never understand Rudo. Maybe it was a sphere thing. 

If it were any other time or situation he might've pressed Rudo further for an answer, but for now he decided to just let it go. 

"alright."

He got no response and after a minute, he assumed Rudo had gone back to falling asleep.

Zanka continued to fight sleep a bit longer, the on-edge part of him refusing to fade completely, as hard as he tried. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy and he tried to keep them open, needing to be awake in case some threat came for him or his team.

But it was a losing battle, and eventually he lost. 


...


Zanka woke up in the cell, face pressed into the cold concrete. No. No. He'd gotten out. Hadn't he gotten out? 

He looked over for Jabber, only to find him gone. They had him. He looked frantically around the cell, seeing it looked exactly as it had the day before, and the day before that. Unchanged. Fuck. It had felt so real. 

Suddenly the sound of rapid footsteps echoed in the hall and then Jabber was there, outside his cell, unlocking it and opening the door for Zanka, holding his hand out. 

"Yo, we going or what?"

Zanka sprinted to him, forgoing the hand entirely as he tossed his arms around Jabber, breathing him in.

"Ya came back for me."

Jabber could have gotten out. He'd found the elevator, he had the keycard. He could have left, but he'd come back. He'd risked dying or being caught again by staying in that hellish place. For Zanka. 

"Course I did, it's you and me right? We a package deal now tough guy, ain't no goin back on that." 

Before Zanka could reply, someone ripped Jabber out of his grasp, dragging him backwards out of the elevator and back into the facility. Zanka rushed forward back towards him but he was also held back, hands grabbing his arms and shoulders preventing him from reaching Jabber. 

"Shit! No! Lemme go! Jabber!!!"

He looked to the sides and saw his team holding him back, preventing him from leaving the elevator and running to Jabber, who was being dragged away by the guards.

"NO! Please, ya don't understand, I have to go to him!! JABBER!!"

His team was saying assurances to him, that they were getting him out, that they were keeping him safe, but it didn't matter. Not when Jabber was getting further away, further trapped in that damn facility. Jabber could've been long gone already, he could've been free. But he'd come back. For Zanka. He'd brought him to the Cleaners to save him. And now he'd lost his own chance of freedom. Because of Zanka. 

He continued to yell, trying to wrench himself out of their grip and dive back in to the belly of the beast himself, knowing that at least he'd have Jabber there with him, but they held impossibly tight, and the doors started to close. 

Jabber, for some reason, wasn't struggling, just watching Zanka with a devastatingly soft look on his face as the guards dragged him away towards danger and the cleaners forced Zanka towards safety. 

It wasn't fair. It should be him the guards had, it should be Jabber in the elevator. Jabber had given up his freedom for him and Zanka didn't want it, not if Jabber wasn't right there with him. 

The elevator doors were almost closed and the last thing Zanka saw was Jabber's face, smiling and mouthing the words Zanka hadn't gotten to say to him.

The elevator sealed shut, and Zanka's eyes snapped open as he woke up, breathing hard but quiet.

He was still in Enjins room, still in Enjin's bed with the rest of his team. 

Well. Probably. There was a chance he was still dreaming, even if he felt more aware. Hell, maybe all of HQ had been a dream. 

He maneuvered his arm out from under Riyo's as Enjin snored loudly in the background, and pinched his other arm hard, hissing a quiet breath through his nose. The sharp pain was a masssive relief, and he suppressed a half-hysterical laugh at the thought that he really was becoming more and more like Jabber. 

Jabber. He was there, at Cleaner HQ. Somewhere. Probably in the basement. So close to Zanka. 

He looked around as best he could without disturbing anyone, trying to find a clock to no avail. He could see out the window though, and it was still mostly dark. It probably hadn't been more than an hour since they'd all fallen asleep. It would be some time until everyone else woke up.

Restlessness itched under Zanka's skin and suddenly the mass of sleeping bodies around him felt suffocating. He couldn't just keep laying there. 

He slowly got up, trying to extricate himself from everyone's now tangled pile of limbs. Riyo, always the lightest sleeper, groaned as he did, squinting one eye barely open and making a questioning noise. Shit.

"Just goin' to the bathroom. I'll be back soon." He whispered. 

She hummed, and for a moment Zanka worried she'd wake herself up fully and choose to come too, but then she just closed her eyes again and fell back into unconsciousness. 

Zanka let out a small breath of relief. If Riyo was more awake, no doubt she would have noticed the guilt in his tone and expression at the lie, but he was lucky this time. 

With great effort he removed himself from the bed, and grabbed Assistaff before he padded silently out of the room, gently closing the door behind him. 

Back in the quiet halls of HQ he took a breather while he figured out his next move. Jabber was almost certainly in the basement where the holding rooms were, and Mankira was being kept somewhere too, though he had no clue where they could possibly be keeping her. Better to start with Jabber, then. 

He wasn't sure what his goal was. But whatever he decided to do, he at least needed to know where Jabber was being held. 

The memory of the dream itched under his skin.

He needed to see Jabber with his own eyes.

...

Zanka crept his way silently down the stairs to the basement. Riyo had said they were keeping constant watch on Jabber, so if there were people in the hall, he'd know that was where Jabber was. 

Unfortunately, the single-entrance design to the basement meant that there was no sneaking down there unseen. They'd see his legs before he could see them, and even if they didn't, there'd be no way he could make it to the room without being spotted, so he'd just have to resign himself to making this visit an information-only mission. 

He finally reached the bottom of the stairs and could look in the hallway, seeing two supporters outside one of the doors. Bingo. He recognized one of them as Tomme and the other as one of the supporters usually assigned to team Eager, though Zanka didn't know his name. 

Tomme saw him first, looking briefly shocked before lighting up and walking towards him.

"Zanka! I didn't expect to see you so soon, how are you feeling?" 

Right, everyone had assumed him to be dead, and by now everyone and their mother probably knew about his injuries and Jabber bringing him back. He'd have to get used to that.

"I'm alright, Eisha did a good job healin me up." Guilt pulsed again at the reminder that he'd hurt her for doing it, but he needed to try and stay focused for now, at least until he could apologize in person. He decided to cut straight to the point. "Is Jabber in there?" 

Tomme nodded. 

"Yeah, he's sleeping right now. At least I think so." She put a finger on her chin and tilted her head slightly. "I suppose he could be faking it." 

"Can I see him?"

"Uhhh..." She looked back at the other supporter briefly and then back at Zanka. "I'm sorry, we're really not supposed to let anyone in. Did you ask Enjin? Actually, wait, where is Enjin? Does he know you're awake?"

"He does, Riyo woke him up earlier."

"Oh good. He was really worried about you, we all were. I'm glad to see you're doing alright. Still kinda surprised he let you out of his sight though." She said with a chuckle. 

Enjin really hadn't, but Tomme didn't need to know that. 

"Could I just- look at him? Through the window even? I won't go in." 

He was probably showing his hand way too much by being so desperate, but he swore he could feel how close Jabber was, he couldn't just walk away now empty-handed. A part of him had to see Jabber with his own eyes, even if it wouldn't change anything.

"Can I ask why?" Questioned the other supporter, speaking for the first time. 

Zanka mentally stumbled, struggling for an answer. He wasn't even sure why himself. He knew Jabber was alive. He knew the cleaners weren't the type to torture for information, so he was physically fine. And with Jabber asleep there wasnt even any wordless message he could pass on to him through the glass, so why? 

"I just...have to see him." It sounded lame even to him.

Tomme looked at him for a moment and then softened, stepping aside.

"Yeah, okay, of course." 

The other supporter made a slight noise of protest and Tomme shot him a look that shut him up. It clicked in Zanka's head that like Riyo, Tomme probably thought Jabber had been the one to take Zanka, and she probably thought this was some weird form of closure for him, to see Jabber locked up. 

He fought back the urge to correct her, since it was what was letting him see Jabber, and walked over to the door to look in. 

Zanka's eyes ignored everything else in the room –not that there was much– and locked in immediately on Jabber, laying in a single bed in the far right corner. He was sleeping on his stomach, sprawled out across the bed with the sheet half on him, face turned away from the door. 

Jabber's Raider uniform was nowhere to be seen, and he was instead in a white tee that allowed Zanka to see his arms, which were covered all over in various scars, but with no blood or bandages where the bullet had hit him. They'd had Eisha heal him then, good. Zanka watched the slow rise and fall of Jabber's chest and felt himself relax slightly. He was okay. He let himself look for a couple seconds longer, as long as he could get away with, before he nodded and stepped back.

"Thank you Tomme."

"Of course. And I know I said it already, but I'm really glad you're okay. We missed you." 

Zanka felt his cheeks flush and he turned away back towards the stairs. They'd missed him!

"Thanks, I...It's good to be back."

"It's good to have you back." Tomme said sincerely. "I won't keep you any longer, but thanks for stopping by. And I know you obviously didn't come down here to see me, but I'm still really glad I got to talk to you anyway." She chuckled. "Gris and Follo are gonna be so jealous."

Zanka exhaled a small laugh, and a bit more weight left his chest. Not much, but a bit. 

...

By the time Zanka got back to the main corridors of HQ the sun was just barely starting to come up, and it wouldn't be too long before the halls and various rooms of Cleaner HQ were filled with people milling about and starting their day. 

If he went back to Enjin's room now, he'd probably just wake them all up for the day, and it was still too early for that. He could go back to his own room, maybe try and sleep again, but more than anything he just needed to do something. Seeing Jabber had helped, but he still felt restless, still felt on edge. 

They'd escaped the facility but a part of him still felt unnerved to be out of the cell, especially in the empty halls. Like every second had to be spent wisely, the constant threat of being seen and caught again still looming over him. 

He needed something to pour all his energy into, and he set his course towards the gym. 

A return to routine would help ease his mind, and he needed to get a headstart on making up for a month and a half of just sitting around. 

...

Zanka entered the empty gym, glad to see no one else was there at that time in the morning. At least that was still constant. He walked over to the corner furthest from the door and set Lovely Assistaff down there, so even if anyone did come in Zanka would be able to put himself between them and her, no matter where he was in the room. 

He paused.

Why was he thinking Iike that? No one in the Cleaners was gonna try and take Assistaff from him. No one would dare. Everyone there knew intimately how taboo it was to even touch someones vital instrument without asking. 

...It was just some irrational residual emotion from the lab, that was all. He needed to fight that. He should try and fight it now, but the idea of putting her anywhere closer to danger closer to the door made his skin crawl, and ultimately he left her tucked away in the corner while he began his workout. Maybe once he cleared his mind it would solve itself.

It was surprisingly easy to fall back in routine, even if he quickly noticed how out of practice he was. He started with stretching, not quite as limber as he was before, but stretches had been one of the few things he'd been able to occasionally keep up with in the cells, even if he'd had to constantly tune out Jabber's color commentary while doing them. It was almost strange to do them in silence again.

He moved to cardio, like always, warming up on the running machine and going until he felt his heart pumping and his lungs felt like they were about to burst before cooling down. Then came core exercises, and then weights, going until failure. Upper body, then legs.

By the time he was nearing the end of his full-body routine he was dripping sweat, and while his head was significantly quieter, it wasn't enough. The only thing left was closing cardio, and he set a faster pace as he began to run. 

Running was easy. Running was constant. Step, step, breathe. Step, step, breathe. No need to analyze an enemy, no need to figure out what move to use, where to block, when to attack. He just needed to put one foot in front of the other, keeping a rhythm. It was an area where hard work excelled, where being able to push ones self further was rewarded with better stamina and a deeper well of energy for the next time. 

Zanka got lost in it before he looked up at the clock, seeing he'd already gone over the normal amount of time he allotted for running. 

He was done, he should cool down. But his burning lungs and aching legs were finally drowning out his head, all his focus being spent on moving himself forward. 

He kept going. 

Step, step, breathe. Step, step, breathe. 

The door to the gym slammed open and Zanka stumbled, just barely catching himself and managing to get off to the side of the machine as he turned it off, panting, and he looked over at whoever had just come in. 

To his shock, it was Enjin, looking haggard and relieved at once with one hand on his heart and the other on his knee, partially bent over and also catching his breath. 

Engin took the hand on his heart and used it to turn on his choker, speaking into it. 

"Found him. I found him. He was in the gym." 

Shit. That was right, Zanka still didn't have a choker. His team had had no way to contact him, and when they'd woken up to him gone...

A series of overlapping relieved words tinned out of Enjin's choker, Zanka being able to pick out one of them easily as Riyo, who sounded equal parts relieved and angry as she yelled for Enjin to tell him to get his ass back in bed.

Enjin groaned, standing back up fully and running a hand over his face.

 "You're gonna give me grey hairs kid, seriously. And don't get me wrong, its not like I couldn't pull off the silver fox look, cause I definitely could, but not yet! I still got another few years in my prime. At least! Yeesh!" 

"I'm sorry, I didn't...I wasn't thinking. It won't happen again."

The intense feeling of being in trouble caused him to just barely stop himself from tacking on a "Sir" to the end, a habit that had taken significant effort to break when he'd first joined the Cleaners, and one that hadn't been an issue for a long while. To his continued unease he realized he'd also stood at attention on instinct, and subtly tried to relax his posture. 

Enjin sighed, looking conflicted.

"Its okay, just...next time tell one of us when you're gonna wander off, yeah? At least until we get you a new choker." 

Zanka nodded guiltily.

"I will, I promise. I'm sorry."

At his words, Enjin somehow looked even more troubled. He scratched his head and made his way over to Zanka, sitting on the unused machine next to his. 

"Look, I meant what I said earlier. You don't need to apologize, not about this or anything else. I mean don't get me wrong, a heads up woulda been nice, but we were just worried about you, that's all."

Zanka stayed silent for a moment, unsure of what he could say that wasn't another apology; for worrying them, for lying about where he was going, for forgetting about something so basic as the fact that he no longer had a choker, for being weak enough to have been taken in the first place. He had a lot to choose from and for some reason Enjin didn't want any of them.

The silence stretched longer and then Enjin filled it again.

"Tomme said you went to visit Jabber." 

Shit. 

He knew that would get back to him eventually, but he didn't think he'd have to bite the bullet this soon.

"I did." Zanka admitted. "I'm s- ...I should've asked you. I know I should've. I just- I had to see him. I don't know why." 

Enjin was quiet for a beat. 

"Did it help?" 

The question caught him off guard. Was it a trick? No, Enjin wouldn't do that.  ...Seeing Jabber...had it helped? On one hand, it had snapped him out of the funk his nightmare had left him in, but on the other, getting confirmation with his own eyes of Jabber being trapped again had filled him with a new desperation and anxiety.

"Sort of." 

Hopefully that didn't give away too much.

Enjin hummed. 

"You two....spent a lot of time together in those cells, huh."

"those cells"

Zanka's blood turned to ice as dread suddenly overtook him. Enjin knew about the facility. Riyo had mentioned that he'd spoken to Jabber. How much did he know?? Did he know about him and Jabber? Did he know about the guards, the scientists? The old man? 

He tried to choke down his growing anxiety and respond neutrally.

"We...didn't really have much choice but to spend time together."

Enjin looked at the floor, frowning. Crap. Had he messed up? 

"What do you think about him?"

What.

"About...Jabber?" Zanka clarified stupidly, even though there was no one else Enjin could be asking about. 

"Yeah." Enjin said, face still unreadable as he looked at the floor. "Just your honest thoughts, whatever they are."

He didn't prepare for this. He didn't prepare for anything but especially not that. What in the world.

"He's..." A genius. A lunatic. An enemy. Someone who saved my life. Complex. Infuriating. Addicting. None of it felt right. The last one was probably the closest but he'd die before he ever revealed that to Enjin. He tried to figure out why Enjin was asking, what answer he wanted, and then remembered Riyo and Tomme. "He wasn't the one who took me." Zanka said quickly. 

"I know." 

Right. Enjin had mentioned the cells. Plural. Jabber had clearly told him something, and Zanka just wished he knew what it was. 

It seemed Enjin was still waiting for an answer.

"He wasn't...terrible company, I guess. Most of the time. We had to team up to get out. He...was a good ally. Surprisingly."

Enjin hummed out a sound Zanka couldn't identify as good or bad, and then he was quiet for a long moment. Zanka felt every second of it as he waited.

Enjin looked up from the floor, not looking at Zanka, but looking somewhere off in front of him.

"...Listen. Sometimes, when you go through something really shitty with somebody...you get attached." Enjin's expression was far away and his eyes had a slight sadness in them, and Zanka couldn't help but feel like he was speaking from experience. "And it doesn't always end well." 

Zanka didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't deny it. Any part of it. Whatever he had with Jabber was due to tragedy and destined to end catastrophically and he knew it. There was no world where it didn't. There couldn't be.

...But a part of Zanka wanted it anyway. He liked what Jabber drew out in him, and what he seemed to draw out of Jabber in return. There was no one else like him, there never would be. And Zanka wanted. And for a brief while, Jabber had invited him to live in a world where it was okay to want that.

And he didn't want to leave. 

Enjin sighed, shaking his head slightly like he was pushing back a memory, and finally looked back at Zanka.

"I won't...I'm not gonna push you for details about what happened. The boss wants a report eventually but only when you're willing to give it. You can take as long as you need. But...we can't keep Jabber here forever. We have to make our report to the Hell Guard about his capture within the week, and they'll handle him from there."

Zanka's stomach dropped through the floor. A week. Less than a week, and then the Hell Guard would take Jabber. They couldn't. He couldn't let that happen. 

"I can explain everything to the boss tomor- today. I can do it today." Zanka amended, remembering it was morning now instead of night.

The more time he had to plan, the better. 

"Zanka, that wasn't me hinting that you had to make the report soon. If you're not feeling up to it no one-"

"I can do it." 

Recounting everything that had happened –especially in front of Enjin– sounded like hell, but he knew it was unlikely anyone would believe whatever Jabber had decided to tell them –if he'd decided to say anything helpful at all– so it was on Zanka to clear everything up. 

"Zanka..."

"I can do it." He promised. "I'll be fine. And besides, I'd rather just get it over with anyway."

Enjin sighed. 

"Okay, I'll let the boss know you can do it later today. But I'll wait until after breakfast in case you change your mind. No one would blame you."

Zanka would blame himself. He couldn't let the Hell Guard take Jabber. He knew all too well what they'd do to him, what they'd do to Mankira, and he needed to stop it. Regardless of what happened to Zanka after. He owed Jabber that much at least. 

Maybe if he explained, if he told them everything –if he took the blame for the worst of it– then maybe, maybe they'd let him go. Or delay the Hell Guard. Or something.

Zanka himself probably wasn't in the Cleaners' best graces, or at least he certainly wouldn't be once they found out the full truth of what had happened, so any influence he had would be extremely minor, but he had to try.

Jabber had helped him escape, he hadn't fought Enjin (probably. hopefully), and he'd brought Zanka into HQ himself to make sure he got treated. That had to count for something. If Zanka vouched for him maybe he could convince them to look the other way just this once. 

And if he couldn't...a week. He had a week figure out how to get Jabber out himself.

Chapter Text

Enjin waited for him as he collected Lovely Assistaff from the far corner of the gym

An unfortunate consequence of his workout was the fact that he now desperately needed to shower again. And change clothes. He'd have to make a pitstop at his room before he hit the showers.

Wait, shit, he didn't have his room key anymore. Whoever had stripped him of his bags and belongings when he'd first been taken had left him with nothing, and now his one key was probably buried under several meters of rubble.

He turned to Enjin.

"D'ya know if Semiu's up yet?"

"Not sure, but probably not. Why?"

Zanka groaned. He really hadn't thought the workout through, craving a distraction and a return to normalcy so bad that he'd ignored everything else.

"I need a new key to my room." he muttered, embarrassed.

"Oh, hold on." Enjin pulled out a small ring of keys from his pocket, sifting through them before singling one out and removing it from the ring as he spoke. "I should return this anyway, now that you're back. Here."

He tossed the key to Zanka and he caught it, slightly confused before it suddenly sunk in why Enjin would have a key to his room now.

"Thanks." He said quietly.

"No problem. Saves me a trip. But, uh, you should know there's probably a few things missing from your room. I'll get Rudo and Riyo to put them back."

A few things missing.

Zanka just nodded, trying not to show how the sentence had punched him in the gut.

"Okay, thanks."

They'd already started clearing out his room then. It made sense, he couldn't be upset about it. He shouldn't be upset about it. To them he'd been dead. It was only natural that they'd start tossing out the unnecessary items, getting the room back to its blank state and ready to be used by whatever Cleaner joined the organization next. It was just pragmatic, it was stupid to take it personally. But for some reason it still stung. 

"By the way, you planning on coming to breakfast or should I bring you a plate?" Enjin asked. "Might be a bit overwhelming."

The fact that Enjin didn't think he could handle a couple people giving him condolences hurt a bit, but this was a good opportunity to prove he wasn't as fragile as his embarrassing breakdowns the prior night had made him seem.

"I'll be there." 

"M'kay. Lemme know if you change your mind. Same with the boss meeting."

Zanka wouldn't, but he nodded anyway.

He assumed that was where the conversation was going to end, and began moving to leave before Enjin seemed to suddenly remember something. 

"Wait, actually, there's one more thing I wanted to ask." Enjin said, and Zanka turned around. "It's about the Hell Guard."

Like always, just the mention of them formed a knot in his stomach.

"Yeah?" He asked, really hoping it wasn't more news about Jabber. 

Enjin scratched at the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

"How do I say this...You should know we had to tell them about your disappearance. When we thought..." Enjin hesitated. 

"...When I was dead." Zanka finished for him, and Enjin looked over, slightly surprised. Zanka pulled at a loose thread on his sleeve, not meeting Enjin's eyes. "Riyo told me."

"...Right. Yeah, guess I shoulda seen that coming. When we thought you were dead." Enjin said the words as if it physically hurt him to say them. "So when the Guard comes, there's a good chance they'll wanna see you in person. We can try and get around it obviously, send you on a mission or something, but if you wanted to see them..." Enjin trailed off, waiting for Zanka's response. 

Zanka really didn't. He was still adjusting to the fact that all the Cleaners had thought he'd died, and that was leagues easier to handle than the idea of his family thinking the same.

"How-" Zanka started before hesitating. He shouldn't care. But he did. "How'd they react?" 

He felt stupid asking. 

Enjin sighed deeply, looking conflicted again as he put his hands in his pockets. 

"Honestly? Hard to say with them. But they were definitely upset. Doubt they'd show it, but I think they'll be relieved to hear you're alive."

It was a nice thought, but Enjin didn't know Zanka's siblings like he did. If they had been upset, it was probably only because he'd tarnished the family name even further by "dying" in such a pathetic fashion. But more likely, they'd been relieved to hear of his passing. Finally able to rid themselves of his dark stain on the family legacy; the Nijiku clan returned at last to what it was always supposed to be, with every living member unflinchingly strong and competent, and him forgotten for good. He cringed at the thought of how disappointed they'd be to learn the truth.

"By the look on your face, I'm gonna guess that's a no on seeing them."

Definitely. It was cowardly to hide, but he could live with that. The only problem was that if he was sent away on an overnight mission when the Hell Guard came, that gave him even less time to figure out how to save Jabber from them.

"Can I think about it?" 

Enjin seemed slightly surprised.

"Yeah, for sure. Just lemme know."

Zanka nodded.

"I will."

...

Zanka arrived at his room for the first time since returning to HQ.

He slid Enjin's key into the lock with familiar, practiced ease, but where he expected to feel resistance when turning it, there was none. It was already unlocked. Huh.

He turned the handle and mentally prepared himself for half-packed boxes and a bare mattress, but when the door swung open he was more surprised that nothing was visibly different. 

Well, almost nothing. His bed was messy, a state he was sure he hadn't left it in, but other than that, the room looked exactly how it had when he'd departed for the job a month and a half ago. 

Only a month a half ago.  

He walked in, looking around as he did. Like the hallways, there was something surreal about it. The closer he looked, the more he noticed the slight differences. Books out of their alphabetical order on his small shelf, a few drawers of his dresser not fully pushed in, his incense holder and a small blue cat figurine Riyo had once bought him missing from his desk. 

But not the cleanout he'd expected. Not even close. 

He walked over and sat on the bed, and then let himself and Assistaff fall backwards onto it, staring at the ceiling. 

The sheets smelled slightly like smoke. 

...

The mess hall was loud, even muffled through the doors. 

Zanka stood outside them with Assistaff. He didn't usually take her to meals with him, but he couldn't stand the thought of leaving her in his room, even locked. He'd briefly left her hidden away in his closet while he'd showered again, not wanting to get her wet –especially in the areas where her lacquer was already damaged– and entirely unwilling to leave her outside the stall unprotected. And even that brief separation had left him feeling like he might throw up from nerves, and once done he'd rushed to get back to her. 

He held her with both hands in front of the mess hall doors and breathed all the way out, making sure to relax his shoulders and stand up straight. Chin raised. 

He was still the same person. 

He pushed the door open and entered before someone could come up and see him hesitating. 

The mess hall was bustling with people, as expected, and he was glad to spot Riyo at Akuta's usual table. He caught her eye and made his way straight over, hoping his pace didn't seem too rushed. 

He couldn't help but feel more eyes on him than usual, though that was expected, given everything. A few people even stopped talking to look over at him, trying to catch his eye, but when he pretended not to see them they eventually resumed conversation. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Tomme at a table with a few other supporters, and she gave him a small but friendly wave that he returned with a nod. He noticed that Gris was absent from his usual seat, but so was Follo, so there was a good chance they were off on a job together. 

He finally sat down in his usual spot next to Riyo and relaxed marginally, glad they had their backs to a wall so he could lean Lovely Assistaff against it. 

A fair number of people were still glancing over at him, but it seemed no one was willing to be the first to actually come over and talk to him. Good. For once, he found himself being glad that the Cleaner's weren't exactly known for their social skills. 

Riyo slid a mug of green tea over to him, and he glanced over to the serving area where the pot sat. 

Before, he'd usually been the one to brew a pot early in the morning for whoever wanted it, and Zanka focused on the part of his brain that passively wondered who'd been making it in his absence instead of the small part hissing that even in this small daily ritual, he'd been so easily replaced.

"Rough morning?" Riyo asked, sounding faintly amused. 

He took the warm mug in both hands.

"In a way."

He took a small sip and immediately spat it out, gagging. It was salty. He turned accusingly to Riyo who had a grin on her face, green eyes shining with mischief.

"That," she said, poking him lightly in the chest, "is for lying to me about your little runaway last night." 

....Yeah, that was probably fair. She had explicitly told him not to disappear, and then he'd up and vanished not even a few hours later. After lying straight to her face. All things considered she was letting him off pretty easy. 

"Here." She said, picking up another mug of tea that had been hidden from sight next to her, and putting it in front of Zanka. "This ones not boobytrapped."  

He picked the new mug up, staring at her suspiciously as he slowly took a minuscule sip to confirm. It was fine though, and he gratefully took an actual sip —though he could tell just from taste that the tea leaves had been steeped when the water was still too hot, making it more bitter than it should be— as Riyo exhaled a small laugh through her nose. 

"Thanks." Zanka said, putting the mug back down. "And sorry 'bout last night." 

Riyo waved him off.

"Don't worry about it. We're even."

Even. In a way, he was glad about the trick. Unlike Enjin, Riyo wasn't treating him like he was suddenly made of glass. She was still poking fun at him and messing with him like normal. The tea was a settled score between the two of them, putting the issue to rest. A way to stop him from continuing to feel guilty about it. Riyo had always been good at that. 

She moved her overly full plate in between both of them, along with an extra fork. 

"You're welcome to share if you don't wanna wait in line. I probably got too much anyway." 

Zanka looked over at the serving area. The crowd wasn't any worse than usual, but the waiting wasn't the issue. The inevitable conversation was. 

He looked back at Riyo, her eyes already knowing. 

...Maybe it would have felt more patronizing if he weren't so genuinely grateful to have an excuse to avoid the storm of questions and pity he knew was probably coming. Just for a bit longer. 

He pretended to roll his eyes, not bothering to hide his slight smile.

"Guess I'll help ya out, just this once."

"How very kind of you." She responded with a smile of her own. 

They ate and drank in comfortable silence for a bit before Enjin arrived, setting his meal and steaming mug of coffee down as he planted himself across the table from Zanka. 

"Morning team. Rudo and Eisha not here yet?"

"Eisha was here earlier," Answered Riyo between bites of food. "she went to drop some food off for Shikage, he's having an off day. She should be back soon. And I think Rudo fell back asleep." 

As if on cue, the door swung open and Eisha came in, focusing on not bumping into anyone as she weaved her way back over to the table, looking up partway through and seeing Zanka. She gave him a kind but nervous smile but he couldn't return it, stuck staring in horror at her face, which now sported a blotchy black eye on the left side. 

Any appetite he'd had vanished. 

He stood up as soon as she got near, and he could feel his nails digging into his palms. 

"Your eye, did I-" He cut himself off from asking if he'd been the one to do it. Of course he was. It wasn't like anyone else would have attacked Eisha recently. "I'm so sorry Eisha. Riyo told me what happened, I swear I didn't mean t-"

Eisha waved her hands frantically in front of her, cheeks bright red.

"No no, its fine! Really! It was my fault, honest!"

"I was the one who hit ya, it absolutely wasn't your fault!"

"I should have gone about it differently, I hurt you! If I just had more experience..."

"You did everythin right, I was the one who freaked out on you for no reason." 

She shook her head furiously.

"It wasn't for no reason! It was a stress response, I should have planned for that possibility before I started..." 

Out of the corner of his eye Zanka noticed Enjin lean over the table to Riyo, stage-whispering behind his hand with a half-grin.

"It's like a martyr-off. Wonder how long they'll go."

Riyo sighed.

"Probably all day if we don't stop them." 

Riyo grabbed the back of Zanka's shirt and yanked him back down into his seat. 

"Alright, that's enough. How about you both just call it a draw, huh?"

Zanka bit back a remark about how his transgression was much worse than hers after he noticed that Eisha seemed relieved at the sentiment, nodding gratefully as she made her way over to sit on the other side of Riyo. 

Zanka stared down at his mug, now almost empty. He kept trying to make things right, but it seemed no one wanted his apologies. 

"Thank you, Eisha." He said instead, looking over at her. "For healin me." 

She flushed, looking down at the table.

"Of course! I'm glad you're feeling better." She traced her nail beds with her thumb. "Um, if it's alright, I'd like to do a check-in later, just to make sure I didn't miss anything."

The idea of going back to the infirmary sent a brief but all-too-familiar jolt of panic through him and he hesitated. 

Luckily, he was saved from having to respond by a half-asleep Rudo dropping his food tray full of various pastries onto the table next to Enjin and slumping into his seat. 

Rudo made a wordless noise of greeting to the table, looking like he could fall back asleep at any second. Enjin just laughed at the sight and Rudo clumsily flipped him off with a gloved hand, the gesture missing its intended target by a few degrees.

Zanka finished the last of his tea to hide a small smile, shoulders relaxing minutely. At least whatever strange mood had come over Rudo the night before seemed to have resolved itself.

"Awww, did lil guy need a nap?" Teased Enjin. 

"Shut the hell up, old man." Muttered Rudo, rubbing his eyes. "Not all of us are used t'getting woken up at 5am." 

Zanka's brief good mood vanished again at the reminder. Right. Riyo wasn't the only one he'd wronged by running off, he'd caused everyone to panic so early in the morning, made even worse by the fact that he'd already dragged them out of bed once that night. 

His left hand made a fist at his side, distantly hearing Enjin's affronted "Old man?!?" and Riyo's snickering. His nails bit into his palm. 

He needed to apologize. But for some reason ever since getting back, doing so only seemed to make things more complicated. Enjin had told him not to do it (an order he realized he'd already disobeyed), Eisha had just felt guilty instead, and Riyo had refused it entirely. If Zanka swallowed his pride and apologized to Rudo directly and then he of all people didn't want it either Zanka didn't know what he'd do. Damn it. What could he do?

It was overwhelmingly frustrating, another cruel joke by the universe, that he'd returned back to the life he'd craved so desperately and still couldn't seem to find his footing. Everything was so close to how it was supposed to be, but just off somehow. Changed.

It wasn't fair.

Zanka felt his nails break skin on his left hand and quickly released his fist. He felt a wet stinging on his palm and subtly wiped it on his dark pants under the table before anyone could see. Fuck.

He went to take another sip of his tea only to find the mug empty. Of course. He glared at it, before remembering everyone could see his face, and schooled his expression.

He was still exhausted, any potential rest he'd gotten from his hour of sleep before the nightmare woke him had probably been entirely cancelled out by his workout, and if he wanted to stay awake he needed more caffeine.  

He held the mug and looked around the mess hall. There were less people standing now, most busy eating or talking. If he was ever going to get up, now was probably the time...

He mentally fortified himself. He was probably worried over nothing. He'd been lucky enough to miss the general organization-wide reaction to his return, and the number of people who would make a big deal of him being back beyond that was small, probably just limited to his team and maybe a couple supporters. (He hated the hypocritical part of himself that was upset about that, the selfish part that wanted his death to have made a bigger impact than it did. He despised it.) He'd probably get a few questions and maybe some well-wishes, but it wouldn't be a big deal. It shouldn't be. 

He set his jaw and before he could second guess himself, stood up, taking Assistaff with him as he did. He felt Riyo's eyes on him as he walked across the room to refill his mug. 

He made it to the far end of the room without issue, and even got as far as being able to pour his tea and carefully pick the mug up to head back before a sudden loud voice from his left made him stumble and almost drop it. 

"ZANKA MY FRIEND! IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU ALIVE AND WELL!" Boomed Delmon, who had apparently gotten up at some point, along with Tamsy.

"Volume, Delmon." Reminded Tamsy gracefully from beside him. "And tact." he added, looking composed but fondly exasperated, before meeting Zanka's eyes and smiling. "Apologies for him, but I must say it's quite the relief to see you up and about! We were all very pleasantly surprised to find that Death hadn't laid its claim to you like we thought." 

"I...thanks?" Zanka responded, unsure, and Tamsy just nodded kindly. 

"Of course, though I'm quite curious wh-"

"CLEANER HQ WAS NOT THE SAME WITHOUT YOU! YOU WERE MISSED DEARLY!" Interrupted Delmon, sounding almost close to tears, and Zanka paused.

Something in him shook at that.

He wasn't close with Delmon at all. He wouldn't refuse missions with him by any means, but whenever they did get sent together he requested to be notified beforehand so he could bring earplugs, and nearly always ended up using them. He respected Delmon's combat ability, and had no real issue with him beyond his general exuberance, but they were far from friends. But Delmon was known for being honest, almost to a fault, and to hear from him that his "death" had had such an effect left Zanka feeling like the world had suddenly shifted on it axis. 

...Though, the more rational explanation, the one that made logical sense instead of just feeding Zanka's ego, was that Delmon had just assumed them to be closer than Zanka had. That he'd somehow misinterpreted Zanka's professional cordiality as friendship, and projected his feelings onto everyone else at HQ. That made more sense. That, he could deal with. 

"Thank you," Zanka said, mostly to Delmon, but also to Tamsy. "I'm glad to be back. I hope to be able to return to missions soon." 

Hopefully that was good enough, and he could make that the end of the conversation and avoid whatever question Tamsy had been about to ask – probably about Assistaff, based on the way he'd been curiously eyeing her. Zanka turned, ready to head back to his table, back to his team, before he noticed a few people who had come up near him during the conversation, with a few more rising from their seats. 

Shit.

For some reason, it seemed like Delmon's loud remarks had broken some sort of seal, and suddenly Zanka was surrounded by people, with more coming to do the same every second. 

Before he knew it, he was the center of a crowd of givers and supporters, from all teams, all echoing the same sentiments. From people he spoke to regularly to people he'd only been on one or two jobs with. All of them seemed varying levels of emotional as they told him how glad they were to have him back, how much they'd missed him, how they hoped he was feeling alright, to let them know if there was anything they could do. 

It felt like the whole world had turned inside out. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. 

A supporter he'd worked with a number of times clapped him on the shoulder, saying how relieved he was to have Zanka's sharp eyes in the field again. Guita hugged his side and wailed about how much she'd missed his tea. A member of team Beauty he occasionally sparred with told him how glad they were to see he was okay, and how his tips on their form had helped them quickly take down a goliath trash beast recently.

People he'd hardly known and people he'd thought he'd hardly mattered to, acting like his absence had been something that meant much more than it did. More than it should have. 

It was overwhelming, and amidst the parts of his brain wondering if it was a dream or desperately trying to rationalize it all somehow being fake was a part that hysterically reminded him of just a few minutes ago, when he'd wished for his death to have made a bigger impact. Another called bluff, apparently. Funny how that worked. 

Almost.

He could barely hear himself speak over the noise and his own racing thoughts, and he responded as best he could, to as many people as he could, trying to keep it together  externally while feeling like everything he'd ever known as fact was suddenly being challenged and proven wrong. 

He'd mattered to them, more than he'd ever dared to hope. He'd been useful enough to be missed this time.

...Maybe he was being self-absorbed. He supposed it wasn't every day someone came back from the dead. There would probably have been that level of excitement for anyone. But still, even so, he couldn't shake off the glow of being recognized by so many people; every word feeding the terrible, reprehensible beast inside him that craved the attention, that still craved feeling like he was something special even when he knew he wasn't. 

They'd looked for him. They'd wanted him back. The skills and services he provided to the Cleaners were of enough use that his absence had been felt, and the relief at that confirmation was overwhelming. All-consuming. 

And yet, somehow, at the exact same time, all of it felt wrong. It was completely paradoxical, everything he'd wanted and still somehow his mind screamed at him that something wasn't right. Somehow. It didn't make sense, not his reaction or theirs.  Something was wrong. It had to be. There were too many eyes on him, too many hands on him, too many voices all saying things that made him feel things he wasn't supposed to. All of it was quickly becoming too much, and his skin felt like it was buzzing. His heartbeat picked up. 

Hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he tried to figure out where the sudden sense of being in danger was coming from. 

He tried to subtly look around for what was making his senses go haywire but all he could see were Cleaners on all sides, and he subconsciously tightened his grip on Assistaff. Everyone was far too close to her, especially when she was vulnerable like this. (They both were, boxed in like he was, he had no room to swing her properly. They were trapped.) 

He couldn't even make out what he was saying anymore over the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and only hoped he was saying the right things as he smiled and nodded and tried to subtly back away, only to bump into more people behind him. It was getting hard to breathe and for just a millisecond there was a part of him that was ready to activate Lovely Assistaff and fight his way out if he had to, before suddenly a large back was in front of him and he could smell the cigarette smoke that clung to its clothes. 

Enjin.

"Alright, okay, don't crowd our local celebrity. Yeesh. Everyone wait your turn. Animals."

Enjin was creating space, gently pushing people back, and Zanka could breathe again. He heard a few people sheepishly apologize as they backed up, and Zanka shook his head with a smile that hopefully didn't look at forced as it felt, saying something about how it was alright. He could only hope that whatever he'd said made sense, his pulse was still pounding in his ears making it hard to think straight. He was glad both of his hands were holding something; if they weren't they'd probably be shaking. Fuck. As if he could get any more pathetic. 

He took a breath and turned to look at the people he'd backed up into to apologize to them, but to his surprise the only two people behind him were Riyo and Rudo. 

Riyo had a relaxed posture and easygoing smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and Rudo had a glare that was probably responsible the now mostly cleared path to the exit. Huh.

Riyo took the mug from his hand and grabbed Zanka's arm before speaking past him, towards the crowd. 

"Sorry everyone, I'm stealing him for a bit!" Riyo announced playfully, and there were several lighthearted protests a few joking boos. "Team privileges, take it up with Enjin!" 

"Wha- hey!" Zanka protested as he was pulled out of the room. "Oh for- Would ya quit draggin me everywhere, I can walk by myself y'know!" 

He glanced back at Enjin, and for just a moment a terror seized Zanka at the fact that they were leaving him behind to fend for himself, and then on the very next breath the terror was replaced with utter confusion, wondering why the hell he'd felt that way. There was no danger. It was only the Cleaners. What the hell.

It took until they were fully in the corridor outside the mess hall before he remembered he didn't just have to let Riyo lead him, and yanked his arm out of her grip.

She let him go and he took a few steps back, catching his breath. That uncomfortable buzzing was fading, but not nearly as fast as he'd like. It was still crawling under his skin, head too crowded with emotions that didn't belong. 

He still felt distinctly out of his body, and it slowly sunk in that he'd considered attacking the Cleaners in his panic to get out. He tried to tell himself he wouldn't have, that it was just a kneejerk reaction he never would have actually acted on, but he wasn't so sure anymore. He already had, once. With Eisha. And if his team hadn't stepped in he might've done it again.

Damn it. 

Of course. Of course he'd done it again. Of course he'd finally freed himself only to become a danger to the people he cared about. And what made it worse was that the only reason he hadn't been was because he'd been saved again. Humiliating. And this time it wasn't even from any actual threat. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Riyo was still giving him space to collect himself, doing exactly the right thing, and for some reason it filled him with even more anger.

"I didn't need yer help." He spat. "I can handle myself, ya know." 

A complete lie. And one he knew Riyo could tell was a lie too. 

"I know." Riyo said calmly, "Just thought you might want some air." 

He had. And he had needed her help. Enjin's too. If they hadn't stepped in he probably would have made an even bigger fool of himself, at best. It didn't make it any less frustrating. If anything, it just made it more so. 

"I ain't some damsel that needs saving." He said with a withering glare.

He knew he wasn't being fair. Riyo wasn't the one he was actually angry at. 

It wasn't just anger either. It was so much more than that. Humiliation for having needed the help, shame for his instinctual response to it, grief for how things used to be, fear that maybe he was just stuck like this now. Too many things all fighting for his attention and threatening to swallow him whole. But like before, anger was the easiest thing to hold on to. The safest.

"I know you're not." 

She sounded entirely truthful, no hint of deception or pity in her words, and Zanka wanted to throw up. 

"Then stop treatin me like one!"

She hadn't been. She was maybe the only one who hadn't been. Until now. Until he'd needed her to. And he didn't know whether to be angrier about the fact that he hadn't been able to do this one simple thing, or the fact that his team had recognized it so easily. 

Anticipated it probably. Fuck.

Riyo just looked at him for a very long moment. 

And then, he watched as she dropped all the tension from her shoulders, putting a hand up apologetically with that same easygoing smile that didn't fully reach her eyes.

"...Guess I misread it. You're right. That was my bad, sorry."

Zanka felt the floor open up beneath him.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Be so-!" Sacrificial. Forgiving. Kind. She was giving Zanka endless amounts of grace he didn't deserve. Grace he didn't want.

He wished she would get angry. He wished she would yell back, call him out for his blatant lies. Hit him. Something. It was all just so frustrating, made worse by the fact that she was being so damn understanding about it. 

"Don't fucking pity me." He said, holding Assistaff so tight he knew her grain would leave indents on his palm. 

Not you. Not you of all people.

"I'm not." 

"Then what–!" He cut himself off. Yelling at her wasn't going to solve anything, especially when she was so dead set on not yelling back. It just made him feel like he was throwing a tantrum. Why was he always so intent on digging himself into the deepest possible hole?

They stared off for a moment before Zanka broke eye contact first, turning to leave. 

"...Just. Forget it." He said bitterly.

He started to walk away, only hoping Riyo wouldn't follow him. But of course she did.

"Where are you going?"

He whirled back around.

"To my room. Is that okay with you? Maybe you should tag along, make sure I don't stub my toe or some shit on the way, right? Might kill me cause I'm just so damn fragile now!" 

"Zanka."

She didn't sound angry, or frustrated. Just endlessly patient, and maybe a bit hurt. 

His self-loathing only deepened. 

So much anger with nowhere to go. He wished Jabber was there. 

"Just leave it." He said, staring at the floor. "...please." 

He didn't want to be angry at her. It wasn't fair to be mad at her for his own shortcomings. But he couldn't feel anything else. 

...He didn't want to feel anything else. 

He walked away, and Riyo let him. 

...

He didn't slam the door to his room, just closed it quietly and made sure it was locked. He pressed his back against the door and slid down it until he was sitting on the floor, clutching Assistaff like a lifeline in a way that reminded him far too much of the well.

Damn it.

He forced himself to stand back up instead of wallowing in the memory. That buzzing feeling still wasn't gone.

Nothing was right. Nothing was how it was supposed to be. And instead of finding a way to deal with that he'd lashed out at his closest friend. Maybe his only friend. 

Fuck. He really did specialize in always finding a way to make things worse for himself, huh. 

He walked over and sat on the bed. 

He was a liability now. If his actions during the escape hadn't been enough to warrant stripping him of his status as a Cleaner, the fact that he apparently couldn't even be trusted not to randomly attack his cohorts probably would be. And even if that somehow didn't do it, it would be clear enough where his loyalties lied once he tried to get Jabber out.

No matter how it all worked out, once the dust settled, he'd probably be fully removed. The life he'd worked for, his respite, his light at the end of the tunnel, it was all going to be gone. He'd be nothing again. 

He hoped they'd at least let him pack his things. But in case they didn't, he should prepare for that. 

He went to his closet, pulling out the bag he packed for overnight missions, and began to fill it. Only with necessities, and only with things he'd bought himself, in case they wanted anything back. 

It was almost depressing, how little he actually owned. By the time he was done there was still plenty of room in the bag. The only thing he still needed to pack was his kit of things to care for Lovely Assistaff, which he'd pack after he fixed her up. 

After the verdict he could just grab the bag and go. 

Except, he couldn't just go. If the meeting went poorly enough for him to be kicked out he'd still have to find a way to get Jabber out himself.

Another wave of self-loathing crashed into him at the realization that his stunt might have sealed Jabber's fate of being taken and executed by the Hell Guard.

He wouldn't let that happen. But he didn't know how.

Everything hinged on the meeting. He could only hope.

The helplessness of it all was enough to make him want to just curl up with Assistaff in bed and block everything out, but he needed to keep moving.

It wasn't like sitting around throwing himself a pity party was going to help anything. He couldn't move forward on any plan to free Jabber until after the meeting, but he could still take advantage of the interim to fix up Lovely Assistaff, at the very least. 

She deserved some care. 

...Yeah, he could do that. 

When Riyo came back....if Riyo came back, he'd apologize. Or he'd seek her out later. Maybe, even once he was no longer a Cleaner, they could still be friends. If he hadn't managed to fuck that up too. But he probably had. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

He stopped in front of the window.

He stared at it for a long moment, and then unlocked it. 

He walked back over to his desk, opening a drawer and getting out all the maintenance supplies he needed. He placed Lovely Assistaff on the desk gently, and mentally cataloged all the things he needed to do –  some routine, most repairs. 

But she could be repaired. Unlike Mankira.

...Unlike him.

He got to work.

...

It took about an hour or so to do everything he could do on a first pass, and through it all he'd half expected a knock on his door or tap on his window at any second, but it never came. 

He didn't know how to feel about that. He'd tried not to think about it. 

He was laying sideways on his bed wishing Assistaff was done drying so he could curl up with her like normal —still exhausted but not willing to attempt sleep yet, not until absolutely necessary— when he finally heard the signature knock pattern of Riyo at his window.

He stayed staring silently at the wall, not inviting her in, but not telling her to go away either. Giving her an excuse to leave if she was only there out of a misplaced sense of obligation. 

He heard the creak of the window as she slipped in, feet silent on the floor, and felt the barely-there weight of her sit on the bed.

It was quiet for a moment until she broke the silence first. 

"Hey."

Deja-vu.

"....Hey." He replied after a beat.

"Brought a peace offering." She said, and after a moment Zanka rolled back over, looking at her. 

In her hands was the cat figurine, wooden and blue with a pouty expression Riyo had said looked just like him. 

Zanka sat up slowly on the bed until he was sitting against the headboard, and brought his knees to his chest, not meeting her eyes.

"Yer not the one who needs to be making peace." 

"Then I'll trade him for an apology."

He finally looked up at her and she met his eyes with a small smile. Not one that was fake-casual or apologetic, just kind and quietly hopeful.

Relief pulled at the corners of his own lips, and he breathed out, releasing a large amount of tension in his shoulders he hadn't realized had been there. 

Again, she was letting him off way too easy, but he was just overwhelmingly glad he hadn't fucked things up permanently.

"I'm sorry Riyo." He said. "I know you were just tryin' to help. You did help. I was bein a dick about it." 

"Forgiven." She said, tossing the wooden figurine over to him.

He caught it easily, and rubbed his thumb over the painted wood, looking back up at her.

"Just like that?" 

She shrugged. 

"Can't say I blame you for snapping. And even if I did, I figure you're probably doing that enough for the both of us already." 

Zanka looked back down, and she kept talking.

"Plus, I kiiinda got into it with Enjin a couple times while you were gone, and I'm pretty sure I said way worse stuff than you did, and he still forgave me, so. Y'know."

That made him look over.

"Ya fought with Enjin? About what?"

She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, watching it spin.

"Stupid stuff, looking back. Most of it anyway. We were all kinda quick to blow for a while there. Me especially. Though apparently Enjin had to physically hold Rudo back from attacking some supporter trainee one time when he overheard him talking shit about you." 

Zanka huffed out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

"Rudo fought for my honor? I'll believe it when I see it." 

She smiled, letting out a small chuckle of her own.

"You have no idea. Remind me to show you something later." She said cryptically, and then in response to his furrowed brow, added, "Just trust me. He really did miss you." 

Her finger twirling the lock of hair slowed. 

"We all did." 
 
Oh. Zanka didn't know what to say to that. That heavy feeling was back.

"...I missed you too." He admitted quietly, after a beat. "Every day." 

Riyo took a slow breath, and Zanka could tell just from her body language that she wanted to say something, but was still mulling it over. 

He gave her time, and for a bit neither of them said anything, just sitting in the silence, and even though it was the middle of the day, it felt so much like one of their late night talks. 

He decided to break the silence first this time.

"Riyo, if I stopped bein a Cleaner, would we still..." 

Would we still be friends felt so childish to ask. But that checked out, it was a childish thing to worry about, amidst everything else.

Riyo saved him the trouble of having to fully verbalize it.

"That why your bag's packed?" She asked quietly. "You planning on quitting?" 

Of course she would've noticed that. He rested his chin on his knees, looking down.

"Don't think I'll have much choice." 

"...They're not gonna kick you out. Doesn't matter what you did in there. Trust me, they're a lot more forgiving than you think. I'd know." 

Maybe they had been for her, but that had been different. He wasn't putting a previous life behind him to become a cleaner, he'd already been a cleaner and had betrayed their ideals anyway. And still had plans to betray them even further, depending on how things went. 

"They will." He tried to put a sense of finality in the words. 

"What, just cause you broke a few rules to get out of-"

"That ain't it." 

She was quiet for a minute, studying him, and Zanka realized he'd probably given too much away, but part of him was too tired to care. Even if she figured it out, she wouldn't tell anyone. He knew that much at least. She'd probably try to stop him or talk him out of it, but she wouldn't rat him out.

"...This is about Jabber, isn't it." Riyo said, sounding like she was coming to a realization. "What are you planning?"

He sighed, giving her a morose smile that was probably closer to a grimace. 

"Somethin really stupid."

Riyo went quiet again, looking down with scrunched eyebrows, and Zanka got the sense she was putting some pieces together. He didn't bother trying to stop her. 

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about what you said after you woke up." she said. "About Jabber. And then last night..." She paused for a long moment. "...You're gonna let him out, huh."

Zanka knew his silence condemned him, but couldn't bring himself to deny it anyway.

"...Why?" Riyo asked.

Because he had to. Because he owed it to him. Because he couldn't stand the idea of Jabber being gone forever. 

"The Hell Guard will kill him." He said instead of an answer. "They'll destroy Mankira, and they'll..." 

Zanka clenched his jaw. They'd do more than just kill Jabber. They'd do whatever it took to get information out of him, for as long as it took. Jabber was resilient, but the Hell Guard was a force of nature. They'd find a way to hurt him. Actually hurt him. It would be worse than the labs.

"He'd do it for me. That's why he's even in this mess." 

He could feel Riyo studying him again. 

"...When he brought you here." She sounded more like she was talking to herself than him, putting more pieces together. "He didn't fight."

"I asked him not to."

"And he listened."

Zanka just shrugged. Jabber had, for some reason. Even though it had directly led to him being trapped again. 

"...What's the deal with you two?"

Zanka wished he knew. Part of him wanted to just tell her everything. Maybe she could help make sense of whatever his relationship was with Jabber. Not quite romance, not really friendship, but also not enemies anymore either. When it came to Jabber, everything always seemed to be defined by what it wasn't. Including Zanka. 

He huffed out a humorless laugh. 

"Yer guess is as good as mine." 

At that, Riyo's face shifted into something that was closer to a wince.

"Yeahh, I really doubt that." She said, looking guilty as she started fidgeting with a lock of her hair again. Ah. Right. "Gotta say, didn't think I'd ever regret being uncharitable towards Jabber of all people"

Zanka gave her a wry smile.

"He's full of surprises like that." 

Riyo hummed.

"Guess so, if you've turned around on him."

That was one way to put it.

"So you're serious about this then, huh?" she continued.

"...Yeah. I know its crazy. But I'm not gonna change my mind, so don't try and stop me." 

"Hm. I've still got my reservations about the guy, but you're not stupid. I trust you got a good reason." 

Her tone got a bit lighter and she gave him a grin. "And hey, even if you don't, its still a chance to screw over the Hell Guard, which is its own bonus." 

Zanka exhaled a small laugh out of his nose at that and Riyo seemed to take it as a win.

He stretched his legs out and sat a bit more comfortably. 

"Well, that's me. Your turn, ya got any bombs to drop?" He asked, half-joking.

Riyo's face didn't change, but she looked down and didn't say anything for a minute.

So whatever she'd wanted to say earlier hadn't been about him and Jabber, then. 

The silence crept on a bit longer, and then she finally spoke.

"...It was my fault we didn't find you."

Zanka looked over, and now Riyo was the one who wouldn't meet his eye.

"What do you mean?"

"When you got taken, you tried to call for us, right? We heard it, I heard it, and I just blamed it on Rudo."

Oh.

"Ya couldn't have known that's what it was. Rudo does accidentally hit his choker a lot." 

She huffed out a small, humorless laugh.

"That's not even the worst of it. I went to Kuro, to find out where you were. Pretty early on, too. He gave me some vague answer about you being underground in a polluted zone and..." She let out a breath, tightening her jaw. "The worst part is that I knew there was more to it. He had that look, and he offered to tell me more, but I just. Couldn't. If I had, we would have found you weeks ago."

Her voice broke just slightly on "weeks", and Zanka couldn't do anything but blink at her, feeling that same heavy feeling in his chest, but different now. 

"...Ya went to Kuro for me?"

She let out a single wet laugh, still not looking at him. 

"Of course I did. You really think I wouldn't?"

Zanka tried to figure out what to say to that, and Riyo kept talking.

"Zanka, I would have given anything to get you back. The only reason I didn't take him up on it was because I thought it meant you were already dead. If I'd thought there was any chance..." 

"Thank you."

She finally looked back at him. 

"Thank you, Riyo. For looking, for...for everythin." 

"You don't need to thank me for looking for you when you went missing. Seriously. You have no idea how depressing that is." She said, wiping her eye. "And don't hijack my apology with gratitude. Sheesh." She added in a lighter tone.

"Ya don't have anythin to apologize for." 

She just looked at him for a moment, before exhaling a small laugh out of her nose.

"...Huh. Is this how you feel all the time when we tell you not to apologize? Cause it blows." 

Zanka laughed genuinely, surprising himself, and felt the last bits of tension dissipate. 

"Yeah...Gets easier though. Sorta."

"Hm. I'll hold you to that." 

Riyo took another deep breath in and out, and then readjusted herself on the bed to face Zanka more fully, her smile small but genuine.

"So, you wanna hear all the gossip you missed out on while you were dead?"

He smiled back.

"Couldn't care less. Tell me anyway."

...

It was maybe another hour before a knock on Zanka's door interrupted Riyo's story about how Follo had a theory Bro Santa was secretly dating someone, and Enjin's muffled voice sounded out from the hallway.

"Zanka, you in there?"

"Yeah, one second."

He got up, ignoring Riyo's groans about how she was just getting to the good part, and unlocked the door, swinging it open. 

"Yo," Enjin said with a raised hand, "hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Zanka shook his head.

"Of course not."

"I was just telling him about Bro's secret girlfriend." Riyo chimed in from behind. 

Enjin pursed his lips like he was trying not to laugh.

"Right. Well, don't let me stop you, I just wanted to tell you that the boss man said he's free all day today, so you can meet with him whenever, if you're still feeling up to it." 

That was good news, even if it caused a knot of anxiety in Zanka's stomach. The sooner he could figure out exactly what the situation was regarding his status and Jabber's, the sooner he could make a concrete plan. 

"I can do it now. Hold on."

"Now?"

Zanka walked back to grab Assistaff off his desk, now fully dry. Already she felt better in his hands than before. More stable, making him more stable in return. 

"Okay. We can go." He said.

"You're sure you wanna do this right now?" Enjin questioned, and Zanka shrugged.

"No use putting it off."

Enjin looked over at Riyo for support, but she just raised her hands.

"Hey, don't look at me." She laughed. "I'd probably do the same honestly. Rip the bandage off." 

Enjin just groaned. 

"Ugh. Fine. Okay, c'mon." 

...

When they entered the office Corvus was sitting behind his desk, as expected, and Semiu was standing off to his left. 

The only surprise was Rudo, sitting in one of a few chairs set up across the desk from the Boss.  

"Come on in, take a seat." Corvus said warmly, and Zanka settled himself into the chair directly opposite his desk. Riyo sat in the last empty chair, and Enjin stayed standing behind them. "I appreciate you coming in so soon. This is more of an informal debrief, and you can take it at your own pace. If you ever need to stop, we can always continue later. Sound good?"

"Sure, but why's Rudo gotta be here?" Zanka asked, more confused than insulted, though it apparently seemed to come out much more as the latter from the face Rudo pulled. 

"Up yours, shithead." Rudo said with crossed arms.

"He's the one currently taking care of Wonger's vital instrument," explained Semiu.  "so we figured it was important for him to know the full details of what happened to it." 

Mankira had been with Rudo?? Huh. 

Though admittedly, out of all the possibilities Zanka had imagined of where she'd ended up, Rudo caring for her was probably the best option. Even with his grudge towards Jabber as a whole, Zanka knew he didn't have it in his heart to be cruel to any object. 

"You can start whenever you're ready." said Corvus, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He tried to figure out where to begin.

He needed to be careful. Not knowing what Jabber had told them meant he'd need to toe the line between being honest without being too honest. If he left out something Jabber had told them it would make him look like he was hiding something, and if he spoke too much about things Jabber had left out it might make them more biased against him. 

And on top of that was the fact that there were certain things he'd really rather not expose if he didn't have to, and he could only pray that Jabber hadn't already run his mouth off about them. Another layer of difficulty. 

Corvus seemed to sense his hesitance, and gave him a warm look.

"We don't need you to go over everything. If you'd like, we can just tell you what Jabber told us and have you fill in any gaps or make any corrections as we go."

Zanka noticed Semiu glance her eyes over to Corvus just briefly with an unreadable look before they returned to Zanka. 

It seemed too good to be true, and part of him worried it might be some sort of test. But even if it was, it was probably better than having to fly blind. Hopefully.

Zanka nodded after a moment, hoping he was making the right choice.

"Yeah, alright. sure."

"Great. Before we get too into the specifics, I'll have you confirm the general story we got from Jabber, which is that you two were both taken by some sort of unknown organization and kept prisoner for the purposes of experimentation on you and your vital instruments, before eventually breaking out and coming back here, that right?"

He noticed Riyo and Rudo tense at the blunt mention of experimentation. 

Seemed like he wasn't the only one ripping the bandage off.

"Yeah, that's right." 

"Okay. I think it would make the most sense to go chronologically for now, and unfortunately that's where our gaps begin. What happened on the day you were taken?"

Zanka hadn't thought of that day in a while. It felt so long ago now, even though it really hadn't been. He hardly felt like the same person; in a way it almost felt like someone else's memories. 

"We were on a job to deal with some burrowing trash beasts. A goliath showed, and we split up. I'd just finished my quadrant and was about to head back when I...got hit with a tranquilizer dart in the neck." It was embarrassing to say out loud. He should have noticed him, then none of it would have happened. "I tried to send a message to warn everyone but I wasn't fast enough for it to make any sense."

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Enjin subtly rest a hand on Riyo's shoulder when he mentioned the choker call. He kept talking.

"I think the tranquilizer was supposed to fully put me to sleep, but it didn't. So he knocked me out with some sort of baton while I was on the ground." 

"We found blood." Enjin said, nodding. "Not much, but..." 

But still enough to confirm something had happened to him. That, plus the burrowing trash beasts...it was no wonder they'd thought he was dead. 

"After that, I don't remember anything til wakin up in the cells. And even that's kinda hazy. I think I was concussed for a bit. Sorry."

"That's alright." Corvus said easily. "Jabber said you both had some sort of collar attached to you by the time you reached the cell?" 

Zanka brought a hand up to his neck on instinct, feeling the phantom weight of the metal.

"Yeah. They had a needle in the back that could inject us with more tranquilizer, and they also worked as shock collars."

He faintly heard Riyo inhale sharply through her nose at that, but couldn't bring himself to look over. 

"They were controlled by these little remotes the guards had. One for each of us. Whenever one of 'em had to come into our cells to cuff us and bring us to the lab, the one with the remote for that person would stay outside. As insurance, if that makes any sense?"

Corvus nodded.

"It does. There were only the two guards, right? Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"

A laugh escaped Zanka, surprising even him. He shook his head at the questioning looks, embarrassed.

"Sorry, just...those weren't actually their names. That's just what Jabber called 'em. I dunno what their real names were, they never told us." 

"No need to apologize. I thought that might be the case." 

"And yeah, it was just the two of them. Most of the time. There were other guards, we ran into some of 'em during our escape, but before then we only saw those two and the scientists." 

At the mention of the scientists Corvus leaned slightly more forward. 

"What can you tell us about them? Did they ever explain their motives or who they were with?" 

Zanka ran a thumb over Assistaff. Even just thinking about them, about the lab, the memory of them touching and threatening Lovely Assistaff while he couldn't do anything but watch was enough to make him just as sick with anger as he'd been the first day. 

"There was this old man. Never learned his name either. He wanted to...figure out givers, I guess. What made us different. He always talked about how it was for the 'good of humanity' and something about givers bein a 'dying breed.' He had a couple assistants, one of them was the guy who took me. Ivan, I think his name was. The other was some woman, she was the one who took Jabber. I didn't meet her til the escape, she was only at Jabber's....sessions. And vice versa with my guy. We called 'em blow dart guy and bob girl when we didn't know their names, and it stuck."

The boss hummed.

"And what can you tell us about the facility in general?" 

"It was big. There were a lot of rooms we never went in. Lotta empty cells, too. They called Jabber and I G012-a and G012-b, my best guess was the g was for giver but who really knows. They had a pretty established routine, I don't think....we definitely weren't the first." 

Zanka wondered how many other people hadn't made it out. Givers and non-givers who were dragged down there and never made their way back up. People missing without a trace. All the notebooks in the doctors office. 

"Okay, is there any other background knowledge we should know?" 

Zanka searched his memory. 

"I don't think so."

"Alright, if anything comes to mind don't hesitate to say it. Jabber said you'd be taken one at a time to the labs, how long were you usually in there?"

"I dunno. Felt like hours. I think it varied depending on what they were testin that day. For a lot of them they'd go til we passed out, so I dunno how much time normally passed between that and bein shocked awake so they could do it again." And again. And again. And-

Zanka felt Enjin's hand on his shoulder this time and snapped back into reality. Damn it. He had to keep it together. He swallowed, and his throat felt dry. 

"Anyway. Best guess is somewhere between one to four hours? Coulda been less though. Or more."

The room was oppressively silent, and even the boss seemed to take a beat before he continued.

"And that was a daily occurrence?"

"Mostly, yeah. They'd occasionally have days where we didn't, but it seemed to either be random or so we could recover from something. The longest stretch without a lab visit was three days, and that was only cause I got shot."

"During your first escape attempt, correct?"

So they knew about that. The real question though was if they knew about what happened after. 

"Yeah. I didn't get very far. Think I just pissed 'em off more than anything. It was a stupid plan, the only reason I was even able to get as far as I did was cause Jabber knocked my remote off the taller guards belt."

"He mentioned that, but it seemed like more of an accident. What was he originally supposed to do?" 

"He wasn't supposed to do anythin. I didn't even tell him I was gonna make a break for it. He's just got a stupid fast reaction time, and for some reason, he decided to help me." 

"Jabber decided to help?" Interjected Rudo, speaking for the first time since Zanka started. "Why?"

Zanka wasn't completely sure himself. Obviously, by the end, they'd both had a vested interest in keeping the other alive, but back near the beginning Zanka had never been quite sure if Jabber's assistance had been purely with the intention to help Zanka or just him taking advantage of the chaos. 

"Didn't ask. I guess there was a sorta inherent camaraderie from our situation, but I was pretty resistant to workin with him for a while. After that happened though, we started to plan together a bit more, but it was still kinda tenuous til..." Zanka faltered.

Until Mankira had been broken. Until they'd finally both crossed the line and told each other everything. Trusted each other with everything. 

"...Until?" prompted Corvus after a beat of silence. 

He took a deep breath.

"Jabber..." Somehow it felt wrong to talk out loud about Mankira breaking. But he couldn't exactly avoid it. "Jabber was ahead of me, timeline wise, for experiments. I think partly cause I had that stretch of days after I tried to run where I was just recovering from the gunshot, and also partly cause they had to be more extreme with Mankira, for their tests."

"We'll do the minimum damage possible, since we have that luxury with yours."

He held Assistaff tight, and it felt like he could feel her reaching out back to him. 

"One day...bob girl broke her. Her left pinky ring. As part of a test." 

He could feel the general reaction to that in the room, and he glanced to the side and saw Rudo making a fist so tight Zanka swore he could hear it as he looked at the floor.

"Semiu said that was probably what happened, but..." Rudo sounded furious, the same level of anger as when he talked about the sphere, and Zanka found himself glad again that Rudo was the one looking after Mankira. 

"Do you know about how far in that was?" Corvus asked. "An approximation is fine."

"It was maybe a week or so after the escape attempt, and that was...two and a half weeks in? Maybe three? So somewhere between the fourth and fifth week, I think. Its hard to remember honestly, I shoulda kept a day tally, but we were passed out so often and the lights never changed, we could never figure out what time it was. Coulda gone off meals I guess, but they'd withhold food sometimes if we acted up, so that was never concrete either. Plus, sometimes I swear they'd skip one just to throw us off. Or they forgot. I dunno." He looked down at Assistaff again, thinking about just how many things he'd never get full answers to. "I dunno." He repeated, quieter. 

He shook his head to banish the thoughts.

"Anyway. We knew we didn't have much time left if they were damagin our instruments, and my infection was getting pretty bad so-"

"Infection?" Enjin asked.

"Oh. Yeah, after they shot me during the escape, it didn't heal too well. Tried to do my best to keep it clean, but there was only so much water could do in the cells. We knew we had to get out before I became completely useless, so we picked a good day between sedative refills and went for it." 

He took a deep breath and ran his thumb along Assistaff again. Time for the escape. 

"We killed the guards."

Better to face it head on.

"There was probably a way to get out without killing them, but we didn't have a lot of options and...I wanted them dead. I was the one who did it. Jabber got them to let their guard down, and when the taller guard went into his cell to cuff him for the labs Jabber grabbed his gun from the holster and threw it to me, and I shot them both in the head before they could get us first."

He could feel Riyo's eyes on him, probably putting things together. He didn't look over at her.

"Jabber had the keys. If he'd wanted to, he could've just left me there, but he didn't." He needed to make sure to emphasize that part. "Once we were out of the cells we got each others collars off and went to find our instruments in the labs. We split up at one point to look, and I found bob girl. She told me where our instruments were and gave me a ring of keys on the condition I wouldn't kill her." He swallowed. "I took them, and then I shot her anyways." 

"You did what you had to, Zanka." Enjin said gently.

Zanka just shook his head, still unable to meet their eyes. He hadn't.

He hadn't needed to. Sure, she was a threat, and it had been the right move strategically to take her out of commission and let Jabber finish her off. But he hadn't done it strategically. He'd done it because he needed to see her in pain. He'd done it because he'd wanted to give Jabber his revenge. Give Mankira her revenge.

Shooting bob girl in the knee so she couldn't run. Hitting blow dart guy with the intention to hurt rather than kill. Leaving the old man bleeding and paralyzed to slowly burn alive in his own research. All of it had been optional. He'd chosen that cruelty, over and over again. And the worst part was that he'd still do it again in a heartbeat, even now. 

He felt sick.

"We could've left." he said quietly, barely louder than a whisper. "Jabber offered for us to just go. We had our instruments, we knew where the exit was. We could've. I chose for us to stay longer. I wanted the old man dead. I wanted all of them..." 

He hadn't been able to stand the idea of the old man still being alive, somewhere out there. Of anyone who was a part of that place still being alive. He'd probably never be able to get a good nights sleep again if he knew they were still out there. (Though it wasn't like he'd been able to so far anyway.)

"We can stop," said Enjin. "I think that's-"

"No." He needed to finish. For Jabber's sake. "It's fine. We got up to the surface with the elevator, and I blocked the doors so it couldn't go back down. Jabber had set some sort of bomb with this gas in the lab, and me blocking the door made it so no one else could get out."

How many people had been trapped down there? The staff had deserved it, but he'd realized at some point afterwards that for all he and Jabber knew, their area of cells hadn't been the only one. There could've been any number of other people just like them. And Zanka might have doomed them the same fiery death as their captors without even thinking twice.

He'd never be able to know for sure.

"Zanka?" The boss prompted, and Zanka realized he'd gone silent again. 

"Sorry. Um," He needed to keep it together. "There were a few people keeping watch on the roof. Jabber got the car and I shot them down while we were driving away, but not before they got a couple hits on us first. Jabber got hit in the arm, and I got hit in the side. He gave me his sash thing to try and help the bleedin, but with the infection and everything else I passed out pretty quick once the adrenaline was gone. And after that, I kinda faded in and out til we reached the city." 

He'd woken up briefly when the car had stopped at some town. Jabber had gotten out, and Zanka had blearily heard talking, that then turned into a man shouting, before very quickly going eerily quiet. 

Jabber had taken him out the car and moved him and Assistaff to a different one, and when Zanka had looked up at Jabber while being carried he'd had a new spot of blood on his cheek. Zanka remembered he'd hazily reached up to wipe it away and Jabber had jolted so hard that he'd almost dropped him. 

Jabber had said something to him that Zanka couldn't remember, and pretty soon after that they'd started driving again, and Zanka passed out once more until they reached the city Cleaner HQ was in. 

In hindsight, it was easy to put together that Jabber had killed some guy for the car, and Zanka was almost more concerned with the fact that he felt more grateful than disgusted at that realization. Sure, the man could've been a trafficker or a smuggler, but there was every chance he'd been entirely innocent and upstanding. And still Zanka couldn't hate Jabber for doing it. If the roles had been reversed there was a good chance he would've done the same. 

"I was awake enough to mostly direct him once we got to the city. He could drive in a straight line well enough, which I'm pretty sure is how he made it there in the first place, but anything more than single turn and he was completely useless. Eventually we made it to HQ though, and you all know the story from there." he finished, and then before anyone could speak, added "He chose to bring me here. I didn't ask him to, it wasn't part of a deal or anythin. He brought me here cause he knew we had a healer. I dunno if I woulda made it if he didn't."

The boss hummed, contemplative, and there was a brief silence while he seemed to go over everything in his head.

"Alright. Thank you Zanka, I know this couldn't have been easy. If anything else that could be important comes back to you, please don't hesitate to let us know." 

Zanka nodded, already bracing himself for whatever came next. 

"I've asked you a lot, do you have any questions for us?" Corvus asked.

The only important question was about Jabber. But that was probably jumping the gun a bit. 

"I guess just...what happens now?"

"For now, you'll focus on recovering while we look into what you've told us. Depending on how soon you'd like to get back to work, we'll have Eisha give you a checkup to clear you physically, then go from there." 

...Huh.

"So I'm still a Cleaner?"

"Of course, if you'd still like to be." 

Okay. He wasn't kicked out then. That was good. That was really good. But he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

"I guess I'm just..confused what my punishment is?" 

"For what?"

Zanka balked, composure temporarily fracturing as he sputtered.

"For- For killing people! For- everythin! The shit I did in there wasn't exactly Cleaner behavior."

"You weren't operating as a Cleaner in that situation." Corvus said easily. "Now, I'm not saying you can go around killing people whenever you're off the clock, but I think if there was ever a situation where we could make an exception to the rule, its this one." 

"But I still-  There can't just be no consequences." Zanka said incredulously.

"Have you considered that maybe you've already paid them?"

Zanka blinked, pausing.

"...what?"

Corvus crossed his hands together on his desk, giving Zanka another kind look that seemed to bore right through him.

"Zanka, the things that you went through in that place, they were horrible. And as the leader of the Cleaners I want to personally apologize that we were unable to locate and extract you, and that you had to take drastic measures to escape on your own. I think even if disciplinary action was appropriate, you've already paid that debt in full. And then some. If I can be frank, Zanka, you've suffered enough. I feel no need to add to it."

"But..." Zanka felt inside-out again. "Okay, but what about Jabber? Whats gonna happen to him?" 

"He's a bit of a different case, given his past history with us. But his assistance in your return and cooperation so far hasn't gone unnoticed, I promise that. Our deal with the Hell Guard requires that we update them about this kind of event within a week of it happening. Technically, something of this caliber would usually call for a more immediate update, but I don't think anyone could blame us for getting caught up in the miraculous return of one of our members. Of course, I still intend to make the report before our one-week deadline is up, and what happens after that is entirely out of my hands, but I see no reason to rush it. After all, Jabber's being here could still provide us useful information about the Raiders that the Hell Guard's more physical methods might not be able to extract. And a lot can happen in a week."

The way Corvus talked, implications hidden underneath levels of plausible deniability, reminded Zanka of Kyouka, of the political way she always spoke. 

Zanka got the message. It wasn't perfect, and he'd still definitely have to break Jabber out himself, but it seemed like the boss might be willing to lessen or even entirely absolve the punishment for doing so, though Zanka suspected that hinged heavily on the amount of useful information he was able to convince Jabber to give up. 

Still though, it was so much better than what he'd been prepared for. It was almost hard to believe.

"Understood. Thank you." 

"No need to thank me. We should be thanking you, you've given us some very valuable info, and potentially stopped a dangerous future threat. Try to remember that as you move forward." 

He hadn't done it for any reason as heroic as that. But the idea that because of what he and Jabber did, there wouldn't be anyone else dragged down there...

It did help. A bit.

"I will. Thank you. Can I go?"

"Almost. I'd like you to have a quick one on one talk with Semiu. Just standard procedure, and you're welcome to stay here, the rest of us can wait outside."

Enjin had a look that made Zanka suspect that it was not, in fact, standard procedure, but all the same everyone cleared out until it was just him and Semiu in the boss's office. 

Somehow, it was more nervewracking than the regular meeting.

Semiu walked over and half-sat on Corvus's desk, Zanka following her every move and trying to read her face as she did. 

"Relax. You're not in trouble. I just needed to check in with you about something Eisha brought to my attention that I noticed on Jabber as well. Ringing any bells?" 

Zanka furrowed his brow, confused. The mention of Eisha threw him off. He knew Jabber had been healed by her, maybe something had happened during that?

At his confused look Semiu just sighed, taking off her glasses and massaging the bridge of her nose while she muttered something under her breath about why she always had to be the one to have these talks, before putting them back on and leveling a look at Zanka. 

"Y'all both had some serious hickeys. Given that neither of you mentioned how they happened I just need to make sure you're not leaving out any major factors of your imprisonment."

Ah. Zanka's face was burning and he resisted the urge to curl up into a ball and wither away. 

"That, uh. Those happened during the escape. We...I got a bit caught up in it."

Semiu held up a hand.

"I don't need to know the details. As long as it was with each other and fully consensual."

Zanka was going to throw himself off the roof. 

"It was."

"Good. And I take it y'all were safe about anything else you did? Someone gave you the talk at some point, yeah?"

Zanka nodded, feeling maybe the most embarrassed he'd ever felt, and just thanked whatever cosmic entity was listening that his team wasn't in the room with him. 

"Yes."

"Okay, good. That's all I needed to know, you can head out." 

He didn't need to be told twice, getting up and moving to leave the room with Assistaff, but something made him pause before he touched the door handle. 

He turned back to Semiu, still watching him. 

"...That's it? I'm really not in trouble? For...what happened with Jabber?"

"As long as y'all were safe that part's none of our business." She said, shrugging. "That being said though, if you plan to continue whatever you got goin on with him, things get a bit more complicated." Didn't Zanka know it. "But whatever you decide to do there, I don't need to know about it." 

Huh. It seemed Semiu was willing to turn a blind eye to his...whatever it was with Jabber, if for no reason other than disinterest, but he found himself filled with gratitude nonetheless. He decided to try his luck, just a bit. 

"Do ya think...could I see him?"

"You gotta ask Enjin about that."

Damn it.

"Why Enjin?"

"Policy is that no ones allowed in a holding room without team leader permission and two people outside. Not that it comes up much."

Zanka hadn't even known they'd had a policy for that. He wondered if Semiu had looked it up specifically because of him. 

"Don't ya outrank him though?"

Semiu looked a bit smug at the reminder.

"Yeah, technically."

"Then couldn't I just get your permission?" 

"You could. But I think you need to talk with him about this. This isn't the kinda thing you can go behind his back about, and I think you know it." 

Ugh. He did.

At least Semiu hadn't outright said no. 

"Alright. Thank you."

She waved him off and he turned back to the door to open it. 

Once he stepped out into the hallway, Zanka was surprised to only see Riyo and Rudo out there waiting. He looked around.

"Where's Enjin?"

"Walked off with the boss to talk about something, dunno what." Answered Riyo, shrugging. 

Huh. Zanka would have to find him once he was done with his talk to ask about visiting Jabber. In the meantime though...

He turned to Rudo.

"How's Mankira?"

 ...

It was a few hours before he was able to finally track Enjin down, and by the look on his face when Zanka finally found him, it hadn't been accidental. Semiu had definitely said something then.

Zanka cut straight to the point.

"I wanna see Jabber."

Enjin sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeahhh, no. I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

Before, that would have been it. Zanka would have treated Enjin's word as law, he would never have even considered pushing back. Even now, the knowledge that he was probably disappointing Enjin burned like a hole in his stomach, but he needed to see Jabber. He had to.

"Ya know the full story now, he wasn't the one who took me. We worked together, he helped me, he brought me here. He's not gonna- I dunno, hurt me or whatever ya think he's gonna do."

"That's not what I'm-" Enjin exhaled. "That's not the only thing I'm worried about. Look, you're still a kid and a lot of messed up stuff has happened to you-"

"I'm not a kid." Zanka interrupted, frustration finally slipping through the cracks. 

"You are a kid though. In the grand scheme of things? Yeah. And this kind of thing messes a person up. Makes them do things they normally wouldn't." Enjin ran a hand through his hair. "I just don't want you to get yourself further tangled up in something you're gonna regret later."

"I can make my own decisions."

"I'm not saying you can't." Enjin replied diplomatically. "But I think you need to look inside yourself and really figure out what you're feeling and why you're feeling it now."

Zanka wanted to laugh. It would've been so much easier if he didn't know exactly what he was feeling. If he hadn't finally pulled back the curtain and looked inside himself, having to come to terms with what he found there. His and Jabber's shared experiences had made them finally burn together, exploding into something new, but the spark had been there for a long time now.

Enjin continued talking.

"Look, I get it. And I can tell you that he's just fine, but I really don't think seeing him is a good idea."

That wasn't enough. The idea of Jabber, trapped again, so close to him while Zanka walked around free felt so wrong. 

"Enjin. I've never asked you for anything. And I won't ever again. Please, just let me see him."

They stared off for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, before eventually Enjin threw back his head with a loud groan, seemingly speaking towards the ceiling.

"Damnit." Enjin muttered. "How am I supposed to say no to that?"

...

Enjin brought him down to Jabber's holding room in the basement. Standing outside the door this time were Gris and another supporter Zanka had seen around but couldn't remember the name of at the moment.

At the sight of Zanka walking behind Enjin, Gris raised a brow, but didn't say anything. 

"Take it easy Carlo, me and Gris got it for now." Enjin said to the other supporter, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. 

"Don't have to tell me twice, good luck with him." The other supporter said with a slight laugh, motioning his head towards the door. He gave Gris a lazy two-fingered salute and Zanka a nod of acknowledgement before heading back down the hall. Zanka didn't take his eyes off the door. 

"You sure you wanna do this? Not too late to turn around." Enjin questioned, half-joking. 

Zanka just nodded.

"I'm sure." 

Enjin sighed. "Alright, Gris and I will be right outside, and we'll be able to hear everything, so if you need anything just yell. And no funny business either." 

Zanka ignored the last part, steeling himself as he pushed the door open and finally walked into the room.

Jabber was laying on the bed again, in a clean white t-shirt that looked a size or two too big and black sweatpants, seemingly tearing a piece of the bedsheet into smaller and smaller strips. At the sound of the door opening he looked up, and when he saw it was Zanka his face lit up. Zanka ignored the way it made his chest feel.

"Oh hey! Was wonderin when you'd finally show Zan-zan, took you a while. Those guys wouldn't tell me anything, almost thought you died or something."

Zanka felt his eye twitch.

"As if I'd let that shitty ass bullet kill me."

"That's what I said!" Jabber laughed.  "And they didn't even get mad so I figured you were probably fine."

Zanka looked around. The room was small and plain, with a cot pressed against the right wall and a small table next to it, and on the other side of the room was a doorless opening to an area with a meager shower, toilet, and sink. No windows. 

"Pretty nice right, compared to the cells its like a luxury hotel in here. They even turn out the lights at night. Though for some reason they keep ignoring my request for a bedtime story." Jabber said, grinning as he sat up.

Zanka didn't meet his eyes. It was still a cell. Nicer, sure, but Jabber was still trapped. And this time it was Zanka's fault. 

"Yo, you just gonna keep standing over there looking like a kicked puppy or what? Not like I got cooties or something."

He wanted to rush over to Jabber, had since the moment he'd opened the door. But they weren't in the facility anymore. It was different now. And they weren't alone here.

"Enjin and Gris are right outside, y'know."

Jabber's eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Not exactly where my mind was going, but I don't mind putting on a show if you don't."

Zanka turned bright red.

"Shut the fuck up."

Jabber just laughed, thankfully not pushing him further. He smoothed out and patted the area of the bed next to where he was sitting, and Zanka heaved out a mostly performative sigh as he walked over. 

Sitting on the bed next to him, Jabber knocked their shoulders together. 

"Much better, huh?"

From here he could see the small window in the door, and through it, Enjin and Gris not-so-subtly peeking through at them. He gave them an unamused look, and Jabber snickered and wiggled his fingers at them in a teasing wave before tossing his arm around Zanka's shoulder and pulling them together. Zanka elbowed him hard in the ribs and he let go, giggling as he did.

At the exchange, Gris looked somewhere between exasperated and relieved, and Enjin looked like he was going to pop a blood vessel. Gris moved out of the direct view of the window, and apparently dragged a still-seething Enjin with him.

"Man, those guys are pretty fun. Totally thought I killed that dude with the scar over his eye, lowkey scared the shit outta me when I got a good look at him. Thought I was seein ghosts. Guess he's tougher than he looks though, even if he's not a giver. And umbrella guy, oh man. You shoulda seen his face when I brought you in, he looked almost as pissed as you did when we met! Mad strong too, yanked me around like it was nothing, even when I was holding you. And that weapon of his, damn..."

Jabber kept talking, and the sound of it faded softly into the background, finally soothing a part of Zanka that had been on edge ever since he woke up alone in the infirmary. 

He hadn't noticed he'd been drifting off until Jabber poked him in the cheek and his eyes shot open.

"Dude, you really fallin asleep sitting up? The bed's right here."

Zanka blinked harshly, and forced himself to sit back up straight.

"I'm fine."

"Liar. I can see your eyebags, y'know. You havin trouble sleeping without me? Need me to keep away the nightmares?" He teased.

yes.

"I can just leave you here, ya know."

They both knew he wouldn't, but Jabber played along.

"Aw c'mon, I never said I wouldn't do it. Here."

Jabber moved so he was laying on the bed, leaving a space next to him open for Zanka.
 
Zanka looked at him suspiciously, and Jabber just put his hands up, the picture of innocence. Idiot.

Zanka sighed again, leaning Assistaff against the wall, and laid down on the bed next to him, side pressed against Jabber's from the lack of space. 

"There. That's better, huh?"

It is.

He just gave Jabber a light kick and closed his eyes. Just for a minute, then he'd get up.

Jabber started talking again, something about all the new Cleaners he'd met who he wanted to fight, and in what order. And though it should have been troubling, the sound of his voice lulled Zanka easily back into sleep, falling into a soft and blissful unconsciousness faster than he had in a long time. 

...

Zanka was warm. Not the intense, feverish heat his infection had caused, but a nice, soothing warmth that emanated mostly from whatever he was laying on. He blearily heard two whispered voices in his periphery. 

"-et the kid sleep Enjin, you said yourself that he needed it."

"Yeah but not like this! You are seeing the same thing I am, right?"

"Zanka was the one who initiated it, and he's not doing anything."

Zanka felt the vibration of vocal chords near his head as a melodic voice from right above teased with a lilt. "Yeah man, I ain't even doing anything." 

"Motherf- Gris, lemme go, I gotta teach this punk a lesson!!"

"No, you're gonna wake Zanka up!"

At the increase in volume Zanka groaned, and the voices stopped. He buried his head further into the dark warmth, trying to muffle everything else. 

Whatever he was laying on shook below him slightly with quiet laughter, and Zanka made another displeased sound, shorter and more insistent.

The laughter calmed down, and a familiar pair of lightly calloused hands traced apologetic circles on his lower back and shoulder.

At the feeling he just gave a pleased hum and let his muscles relax, melting into it. He wasn't quite awake yet, and tried to fall back into sleep while he still could. 

The voices started up again, much quieter this time.

"Come on, you should give them their space."

"...I can't believe you of all people are okay with this."

"Oh I'm not, but I remember being that age once. The more you try to push back the more he'll dig his heels in, trust me. I did."

"I'm sorry, you had a rebellious phase?"

A soft laugh.

"I'll tell you about it later. You didn't miss much." A brief pause, and then the same voice from a bit further away. "Oh, and Jabber? Do not make me regret this."

He felt the same vocal chords as before vibrate as he heard a low hum and the sound of a door closing. 

"Huh. Might have to change that list slightly, dude's got more fire in him than I thought, huh Zan-zan."

Zanka made another wordless noncommittal noise that would hopefully allow him to just go back to sleep in peace, and a single huffed laugh was what he got in response.

The hand on his shoulder moved to the back of his neck, skilled fingers playing with the area his hair started while the thumb rubbed circles around the sensitive skin where the needle from the collar had stayed. It was nice, and he was back out within seconds. 

...

When Zanka woke up again he didn't even have the luxury of disorientation, opening his eyes feeling well-rested, alert, and absolutely mortified about all the memories that came flooding in of how he'd acted in his delirious half-asleep state. He was also still laying on Jabber, who it seemed was now asleep instead, one arm around Zanka's waist and legs intertwined with his own. The combination of the position and the knowledge that Enjin of all people had seen him snuggling up to his arch nemesis made him want to crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment, and part of him was glad his face was still pressed against Jabber's neck, so even if Enjin and Gris were looking in, they couldn't see him turning bright red. 

Zanka took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, and apparently the feel of them against Jabber's neck caused him to shiver in his sleep and hold Zanka's waist a bit tighter. He really hoped no one was looking.

He maneuvered slightly, trying to get his hands off Jabber's chest and onto the bed so he could push himself up without waking him, and even got as far as being able to plant one hand on the side of Jabber's head and one by his shoulder and push his upper body up, before Jabber groaned sleepily and his other arm moved to loop with the first around Zanka's waist more securely, keeping him locked in place. 

Zanka let out a groan of his own, though his was one of pure annoyance, and gave up on not waking Jabber. He shifted to balance on one arm, and used his other hand to flick Jabber on the forehead, between his eyes. Jabber groaned again and his nose wrinkled, grip around Zanka tightening once more.

"Alright, lemme go ya damn limpet. I got places to be."

"Mmmmmn, nahh" 

Jabber's voice had the same delicious raspiness it always did when he'd just woken up, and his eyes made no move to open. 

"I'm serious, I'm probably in enough trouble as it is. And so are you."

"Hmm. Evens out then. We're good."

"No it does not!"

Jabber swallowed as he smiled, eyes still closed, and Zanka was reminded that Jabber's throat was now entirely devoid of the marks he'd left in the elevator. He ignored how disappointed it made him feel.

"C'mon man," Murmured Jabber, still half asleep. "I already had'ta letcha go once, I ain't gonna do it again so soon." 

Zanka didn't say anything to that, and Jabber finally cracked his eyes open just slightly with a slow blink to see Zanka hovering above him, Zanka's hair almost touching his face. Their eyes met and Jabber cracked a lazy grin, eyes shining.

"Hey there, Mr. Bad Attitude." 

Zanka felt his stomach flip.

"My attitude's gonna get a whole lot worse if ya don't lemme get up."

"Aw c'mon, don't pretend you couldn't get outta this if you wanted. This all it takes to keep you down?" He said, hugging Zanka's waist tighter just briefly, before relaxing his grip again.

"Idiot. Ya know damn well if the other cleaners see me havin to fight ya to leave there's no chance in hell they'll let me come back."

Jabber laughed quietly, and withdrew one of his hands to snake it upwards, tucking a piece of hair behind Zanka's left ear, and keeping it there instead of around his waist.

"That better?"

Like this, Zanka could definitely get out without too much issue. He should. He needed to go do massive damage control, and every second that he stayed increased the risk of the damage being even bigger. He needed to go. 

...Jabber really did look beautiful like this, though. Locs splayed around him on the pillow, looking up at Zanka. Face soft in a way it normally only was during sleep.

......Zanka stayed, glaring at Jabber, whose smile only got bigger. His thumb and pointer finger fidgeted with the upper part of Zanka's left ear, just a hair harsher than could be considered gentle, and he watched Jabbers eyes move to it. 

"Huh. Grew back. Didn't think cartilage could do that."

Right, his only injury from the mad dash to the elevator. 

"Not like the wound was very deep. Might just be skin, the bullet only grazed me."

"Still too damn close if you ask me." 

Zanka rolled his eyes, scoffing.

"Never took ya for the type to be such a worrywart. I was fine, wasn't I? Just like I told ya I'd be." 

"And I told you we'd be fine to have some fun after, didn't stop you from worryin' then." 

Zanka could feel himself turning red.

"That- was completely different! You-" He looked down at Jabber's stupid, grinning face and realized he was falling for it again. "I really hate you, y'know that?"

Jabber's eyes crinkled like he was remembering something funny.

"Good." 

Asshole. Zanka did hate him. He hated his smug energy, his natural talent, his effortless ability to reach into Zanka's core and drag the real him up to the surface by force. He hated his laugh, and his smile, and the way he was always humming to himself when he'd loudly crack every joint he had. Hated the sounds he made when something hurt just right, when Zanka hurt him just right, he hated how he made Zanka feel. Made him want. Desperately. And worse still was that there was more to Jabber even beyond that. Something deeper and worse than hatred between them. And more than anything else, Zanka hated the fact that he couldn't get enough of it. 

He couldn't stop looking down at Jabber, whose expression was still devastatingly soft, just like it had been in the nightmare where he'd traded his freedom for Zanka's own, and all at once Zanka was overcome with the sudden, all-consuming urge to kiss him, if for no other reason than to remind himself that Jabber was really there. 

Jabber, as if reading his mind, looked down at his lips, lingering there for a moment, before moving his gaze back up to Zanka's eyes. He raised his eyebrows challengingly, clearly waiting for Zanka to make the first move this time. 

Zanka took a moment to remind himself of the laundry list of reasons why it would be a terrible idea to kiss Jabber so blatantly, especially when he still had no clue who could be looking in. And then the very next moment Jabber took a breath like he was getting ready to speak and Zanka threw the list out the window, leaning down and pressing his lips against Jabber's to shut him up. 

Jabber got with the program immediately and Zanka took it slow, choosing to savor and enjoy the kiss in a way he hadn't been truly able to in the feverish rush of their escape. Jabber's lips were chapped and bitten, and the roughness against his own somehow just made it better. Zanka broke apart just slightly to readjust and get a better angle before starting again, and he felt Jabber hum against his lips, pleased. 

Zanka broke the kiss before things got too heated, suddenly filled with emotion to bursting and he pressed his forehead against Jabber's, noses touching as they caught their breaths.

"We made it out." Zanka whispered.

"Sure did." He could hear the smile in Jabber's voice.

"We actually made it."

"Hey, don't go sounding too surprised now. No shot those posers would've taken us out for good."

Us. The both of them, together. Like they were a package deal. Like they were equals. 

Jabber held Zanka to a higher standard, not in the way his family or the academy did, where they expected and demanded perfection; nor in the way Enjin did, where he believed in Zanka's ability to one day make something amazing of himself if he just worked hard enough. 

No, Jabber expected more of him in a way that spoke of him already knowing Zanka was capable of it, a higher level not a threat imposed on him or a goal to run towards but something that was already his if he was willing to take it. 

The idea was almost painfully laughable. They were on different levels entirely, as much as he despised admitting it. That much had been proven time and time again. Jabber was a genius, the type of natural talent Zanka would never be. 

...But there was something in the way Jabber looked at him, in the way he fought, both with and against him, that told him Jabber didn't see him chasing towards his back trying to catch up, but instead saw Zanka walking right next to him, only wondering why he was dragging his feet. It was addicting. 

Zanka lifted his forehead off Jabber's, moving his right hand to cradle the side of Jabber's face and kissed him again without warning as he closed his eyes, trying to convey something he couldn't say. He felt Jabber's one remaining hand on his waist twitch. Zanka didn't let the kiss linger too long, moving to put his head back in the crook of Jabber's neck like it had been when he woke up, sure his expression would betray far too much. 

He felt more than he heard Jabber laugh.

"Didn't expect you to be so touchy, tough guy."

"Yer one to talk, asshole." Zanka spoke into Jabber's neck, feeling his lips brush against the skin with every word. He could smell that sharp ozone smell again, more potent this close and not buried under grime and sweat. He let it wash over him. 

"I ain't say it was a bad thing, just surprising is all. Kinda weird to see you like this." 

"Ya wanna talk weird, yer the one who won't stop lookin' at me like that." 

"Like what?" Jabber asked, tone teasing but with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity. And with an even smaller hint of what might have been caution. 

Like you love me. Like this is more than what it is. 

"...Ya just got a stupid look. Stupider than normal." 

"Oh? You been lookin at my face a lot?" Jabber purred.

"Would ya rather I looked somewhere else?"

"I got a few ideas."

Zanka snorted.

He pushed himself back up to hover his face over Jabber's again, looking down at him.

Jabber still had that look on his face, now with an added mischief, but the softness remained underneath. It was starting to drive Zanka crazy.

"That look." 

Jabber laughed.

"Okay now I know you're just talkin out your ass, cause I'm definitely making a different face than before."

Not to me.

Jabber was good at putting up a front, but Zanka knew him too well now. 

I can see right through you.

Jabber's eyes stayed infuriatingly soft even as his smile fell slightly. 

"So, how's Mankira?"

Zanka's smile dropped. Mankira, now partly broken, permanently trapped in her smaller form, and having been taken from her user again. Even if she was in safer hands this time it didn't change the fact that it was Zanka's fault Jabber couldn't have her by his side the way he had Assistaff. 

He'd fix that though, as soon as he could.

"She's alright. I'm sure she misses you. Rudo's taking good care of her though, he doesn't handle her too much, he cleaned all the blood off, and she's shinier than I've seen her in a bit. He was real upset to hear about her last ring, I think he's been tryin to take extra good care of her because of it. Keeps her in a little fancy jewlery box and everythin." Zanka smiled despite himself. "He might not like you, but he's got no grudge to hold against Mankira." 

Jabber returned the smile, and Zanka could tell it was genuine.

"Good. Between you and Bundus I figured she'd be just fine with him. For now at least." 

Zanka frowned. Even if Jabber was mostly sure, it had still been a risk. And even if it hadn't been, Zanka knew he probably wouldn't have been able to give up Lovely Assistaff indefinitely that soon after getting her back. 

But Jabber had. 

"Why'd you do it?" Zanka asked. "Ya coulda run."

Jabber snorted.

"You were pretty messed up so I ain't gonna hold it against you, but I think you're forgetting the whole 'umbrella to the throat' thing. Plus your little friend with the hair was packin' heat again."

It was reasonable. Jabber had been surrounded in enemy territory, and most people would have difficulty getting away while exhausted and injured, being held at gunpoint, or with a weapon to their throat, much less all three at once. 

But Jabber wasn't most people. 

"Ya still coulda made it."

Jabber paused, then exhaled some air from his nose as a laugh.

"...Yeah, I probably could've."

"So why?" Zanka pushed. 

Jabber stared up at him for a moment, then broke eye contact, and his cheeks just barely turned pink. Zanka watched, transfixed. 

"Told you already, didn't I?" Jabber muttered. "Same reason you stayed in here. Wasn't gonna ditch you that easy after everything." He met Zanka's eyes again and grinned. "And besides, no take-backs, you're stuck with me now." 

"As if I wasn't before." Zanka mumbled, his voice coming out far fonder than he meant it to. 

He felt Jabber's hand on his waist twitch slightly once more.

"Lovely looks better, by the way." Jabber said.

The sudden switch in topic caught Zanka off guard at first, and then he felt something in him preen hearing Jabber refer to his instrument by the first part of her name, instead of shortening it to the second like everyone else did, including him most times. 

Something about Jabber calling her Lovely made him glow, and he tamped it down before he was too obvious about it. 

Very belatedly, he realized he'd had no issue setting Lovely Assistaff up against the wall when he'd laid down with Jabber. There had been no fear, no residual anxiety that something would happen to her while he was asleep and vulnerable. Without realizing, he'd implicitly trusted Jabber to look out for her in his stead. 

Because of course Jabber would. He wouldn't let anything happen to her now, the same way Zanka would make sure nothing happened to Mankira before he got her back to him. 

Well. Nothing else.

If only Zanka had been able to find the pieces of her ring, maybe she could have been fixed...if only he'd just trusted Jabber enough to tell him about his first escape plan, maybe they could've gotten out before she'd even been broken...

The feeling of Jabber's left thumb rubbing absentmindedly at his waist brought him back to the present, and he realized Jabber was probably still waiting for a response, looking up at him, now with a slight curiosity in his eyes. Zanka avoided them, choosing to look at one of the brass pieces in his hair instead.

He tried, not for the first time, to shove deep down the grief and shame of what he'd let happen to Lovely Assistaff. He could deal with that on his own. It wouldn't be fair to say all that to Jabber now. Not when he'd had it so much worse. 

"Yeah, well. Compared to Mankira, Lovely Assistaff got off easy. Her damage was nothin." 

"Not nothing." Jabber said softly, once again reminding Zanka that Jabber could see right through him, too. 

"....No. Not nothin. But she'll be okay. I can fix her." 

"Good. Y'all still owe me and Mankira some fights. I stuck to my end of the deal, you better stick to yours."

Zanka had almost forgotten about the deal. As many battles as Jabber wanted, in exchange for never mentioning what had happened after their fight in the cells. After everything during the escape, after Zanka had finally decided to stop denying how much he wanted him, part of him had assumed the deal to be null and void. But clearly Jabber hadn't. 

That also confirmed Jabber hadn't mentioned their little tryst to the cleaners while being interrogated, and a large weight felt like it had been removed from Zanka's shoulders. Still though, it technically only applied to the one time.

"What'd ya tell the cleaners? About..." He made a vague motion between the two of them. 

"Don't worry, I left out all the nasty stuff." Jabber grinned. "You shoulda seen Umbrella guy's face when he finally noticed the artwork you left on my neck, dude prolly woulda had an aneurysm if I'd brought up any a' the other shit." 

Crap. If there had been any remaining doubt on Enjin's behalf as to who had left those marks on Jabber, Zanka crawling into bed with him had definitely eliminated it. Zanka groaned.

"Enjin's gonna kill me."

Jabber just laughed.

"Ay, if you're dying anyway, at least run it back before ya go." Jabber said, tilting his chin up and showcasing his bare skin with a glint in his eye. "Open canvas."

Zanka's mouth felt dry and he felt heat pool low in his stomach. The idea of sinking his teeth into Jabber's neck, of sucking more marks into the skin and drinking in the sounds he'd make, was almost too tempting to resist. Almost. 

"Shut up." He said instead, pushing Jabber's face to the side. "Freak."

"C'mon, don't pretend you weren't into it. I saw that look." Jabber laughed.

"Ya didn't see shit." Zanka replied, and to his mild annoyance he could hear the grin in his own voice. 

Jabber looked back up at him and Zanka wanted so badly to kiss the stupid smile right off his face, but he resisted this time. 

He had more control than that. For now.

"By the way, it's soundproof in here right?" Jabber questioned. "Haven't been able to hear jack shit from the outside."

"Only in one direction. Shikage did somethin to it, Eisha talked about it once. Inside, you can't hear anythin, but from out there, you can hear in well enough. So don't get any funny ideas."

"Ahhh, yeah, that would explain it."

Uh oh.

"Explain what?"

"Why those two are looking at us like that."

Zanka swiveled his head around towards the door so fast he felt his neck pop. Staring at them through the small window in the door were Riyo and Rudo; Riyo with an expression that landed somewhere between bewildered and offended, and Rudo with a look Zanka could only describe as abject horror and disgust.

Zanka scrambled to get off Jabber's chest, accidentally elbowing him in the ribs and partially knee-ing him in the dick as he did, making Jabber laugh around involuntary pained noises.

"Damn dude, watch the merchandise!"

"How long have they been there?!"

Jabber shrugged.

"How am I supposed to know, I just noticed 'em a few seconds ago."

"You-" Zanka growled, then realized he couldn't even reasonably be mad at Jabber, and Jabber definitely knew it too, smirking at Zanka from his place on the bed with eyebrows raised. 

He looked way too damn good like that, lounging on his elbows with that look on his face, and Zanka was equally relieved and frustrated that he had to leave before he did something really stupid. 

He grabbed Lovely Assistaff and started moving towards the door. 

Once he was nearly there he paused, turning back to look at Jabber, who was fully sitting up now but still looking at Zanka, cracking every knuckle in his hands and rubbing his thumb soothingly over each digit, lingering on the areas where Mankira was supposed to be. Zanka wanted to replace Jabber's hands with his own. 

"...I'll come back." Zanka promised. 

"Obviously." Jabber grinned, but Zanka noticed the smallest amount of tension leave his shoulders. 

Zanka gave him a small nod, and then braced himself as he exited into the hall.

Tomme and Gris were out there too, standing off to the side looking somewhat sheepish.  

The door clicked closed behind him, and Zanka avoided everyone's eyes as he made sure to step out of the view of the window, already feeling his face was hot. He faced his body towards Riyo and Rudo, still too mortified to look them in the eyes.

"...Okay, how many chore shifts would I have to cover for both of you to forget ya saw any of that?"

"More than you have in you." Riyo answered instantly. "So when were you gonna tell us about that little development huh??" She said with a laugh, sounding almost hysterical. 

"Jabber? Really??" Rudo questioned, looking at Zanka like he'd personally betrayed him. 

Zanka just put his face in his hands and groaned. Yeah, there had been no chance of that working from the start. 

He felt Tomme put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry Zanka, we really tried to keep them from looking, but, well..."

"You know those two." Gris finished, sounding both embarrassed and fond.

"Not yer fault." Zanka muttered from behind his hands.

It was his own damn fault. He'd been stupid. Careless. He'd known that kissing Jabber, staying in bed with Jabber, hell, even crawling into bed with him in the first place had been monumentally stupid. But he'd done it anyway, too desperate to balm the ache his absence had caused and too used to an environment where he didn't have to care what others thought; where for the first time he'd been able to just take what he wanted.

"How much did you see?" He groaned, already sure he wouldn't like whatever the answer was. 

"If you're asking if we saw you lock lips with that shithead, the answer is yes." Said Rudo bluntly, and Zanka wanted to die. That had been so early on too. Zanka needed to find some hole to crawl into and never come out of. 

"Honestly I'm just surprised I didn't see it coming." Said Riyo. "I mean I knew you guys had some sort of weird thing going on but I figured it was one-sided at best. When the hell did that happen??"

Zanka cringed.

"It was...gradual?"

"Oh yeah, sure, Jabber really strikes me as the 'slow and steady' type." Riyo said with a laugh, still looking completely overwhelmed. "Seriously, was that going on before??" 

"No! Absolutely not. It's...new." 

"Didn't he almost kill you?" Questioned Rudo, "Twice??" 

"Oh my god was that flirting? Was that doing it for you??"

"Can we not talk about this here?!" Zanka strangled out, looking over at Tomme and Gris who, to their credit, were making a valiant effort to pretend like they weren't overhearing. 

"Sure, sure, we can go up to my room." Said Riyo. "But I want all the details!"

"That ain't..." Zanka sighed deep from his soul, running his hands over his face and resigning himself to his fate. "Fine..."

Riyo cheered, and Zanka turned back to Tomme and Gris, trying to figure out how to phrase his plea for them not to say anything, but Tomme was apparently already one step ahead, and made a motion like she was zipping her lips shut, and Gris did the same with a knowing look.

He felt that same warm feeling in his heart at the silent show of understanding, and gave them both a grateful nod before letting Riyo drag him up the stairs, Rudo trailing behind. 

Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

...

As soon as Riyo's door shut behind them the questions began.

"Okay but seriously, how did that happen?"

"Why him?" Asked Rudo, looking completely lost. 

Zanka groaned, weighing the pros and cons of just throwing himself out of Riyo's window instead.

"There wasn't really a single point where it happened, it just...kinda did."

"But I thought you hated him??" Rudo grilled.

"Trust me, I do." 

And Zanka did. Probably even more now. He internally cursed Jabber for making him go through this, especially because Jabber was probably pissing himself laughing about it right now. Asshole. 

"Sure didn't look like you hated him." Challenged Rudo, and Zanka wanted to throttle him. 

"And it didn't look very new either." Added Riyo with a grin.

"Whose side are you on?" Zanka incredulously asked Riyo, betrayed. 

"Oh come on, can you blame me? You never tell me about anyone you're into and then suddenly you're acting like an old married couple with the Ground's craziest purple freakshow?" 

He'd always thought of Jabber as more pink than purple, but making that point now would not help his case. 

"We ain't-  look, it's...complicated, okay? I dunno how it even happened."

"Right, the old 'took a wrong turn and fell in love with my arch enemy', that classic mistake." Riyo said as she nodded solemnly. 

"Riyo." He groaned.

"Alright, alright." She laughed. "I just can't believe that after all this time that's your type. I was way off." 

"He is not my- my type!" Zanka sputtered. "I don't have a type, he's just-!" 

Riyo raised an eyebrow and the count of people in the room Zanka wanted to throttle increased to two. Hell, maybe three, if it would put him out of his misery. 

"He's just...I dunno, okay??"

"But it's Jabber." Interjected Rudo, still looking completely baffled. "He's a Raider. And isn't he like...a masochist??"

Zanka cringed, unable to dispute either point. He could feel his face getting hot.

"Wow. Guess that's what works for you guys, huh? Man. It really is always the quiet ones..." Mused Riyo.

"Would ya please take this seriously?" Groaned Zanka.

"Sorry, sorry, just. I can't believe I'm still learning new things about you." 

"He almost killed you." Repeated Rudo, like he was worried zanka hadn't heard it the first time. 

"And one day I'm gonna kill him." Zanka muttered.

"What??" Rudo said, looking entirely lost and concerned. "Is this some weird Ground thing? How can you date someone and wanna kill them?!" 

"First of all, we are not dating!" 

"Mmmm, I dunno." Interjected Riyo with a grin. "That didn't look like friendship to me, unless I've been seriously misinterpreting some things." 

"We ain't friends either." Zanka grit out.

"If you're not dating and you're not friends then what the hell was that??" asked Rudo.

"Guess that leaves a purely physical relationship, then." Stated Riyo matter-of-factly. 

"A what?" asked Rudo.

"Riyo!" Zanka hissed, scandalized, as his cheeks turned red. 

Rudo's brow furrowed and he looked even more confused. Then his face changed as he seemed to slowly realize what Riyo was implying. 

"Oh. Gross." He said, nose wrinkling in disgust. 

Zanka was seriously going to kill somebody. 

"That is not what's happening." Zanka said, trying to salvage any dignity he had left. 

Rudo, as usual, didn't look like he believed him, and still looked distinctly grossed out as he turned to the door.

"Yeah, I'm out actually. You two can talk about whatever." 

Zanka wanted to rip his hair out. It was probably better that Rudo was leaving, Zanka certainly wasn't going to ask him to stay while he talked about Jabber, but it was still beyond mortifying.

Rudo opened the door and then stopped, staring a hole into the floor. 

"If Jabber.....if you ever need to kill him or some shit, I wouldn't mind teaming up again. Worked pretty well last time." 

...Huh. Apparently that was Rudo's version of a shovel talk, and though Zanka was a bit annoyed at the implication that he'd need Rudo's help to kill Jabber, part of him did feel oddly touched at the sentiment. 

"When I kill him, I'll do it by myself." he said flatly. "But...thanks." 

Rudo's cheeks were pink.

"Yeah, whatever." He muttered, and left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Zanka turned to Riyo, still embarrassed. 

"Did ya have to bring that all up in front of Rudo?"

"C'mon, that was fair play. I'm practically obligated to give you shit about your horrible taste, and I've got a lot of time to make up for. Plus, it got him to leave eventually, and now he probably won't wanna bring it up with you ever again." 

So she'd intentionally gotten Rudo to leave then.

"I'm guessin that means you got more questions?"

"Tons." 

Zanka sighed, then suddenly the implications of Rudo having left hit him. 

"Wait, shit, what if he says somethin-"

"He won't. Gris and Tomme swore us to secrecy. Apparently Enjin did the same for Tomme when he had to leave for a job. Rudo won't snitch, we both made a promise."

"Oh. Thanks."

Riyo fondly rolled her eyes.

"Naturally. Though y'know if you'd just told me from the beginning we coulda avoided this whole thing. We only went looking cause we couldn't find you and Enjin was being weirdly vague." 

"To be fair, I didn't think I'd be in there that long. Damn bastard put me to sleep."

Riyo chuckled, and then got a bit somber. 

"But seriously." Riyo said, looking down with an unreadable expression. "Why didn't you tell me? I woulda kept it secret, and we definitely could've saved Rudo some mental scarring." 

Her tone was light, but Zanka could tell it was only because she was intentionally keeping it that way. The question was heavy, a hesitance and hurt under the surface that bled through only because Riyo was letting it. The irony of it wasn't lost on him.

"I don't know." He said truthfully. "I really was going to, eventually, I just...wasn't really sure how things would play out, I guess." 

His feelings hadn't changed, but there had been a part of him that really wasn't sure if what he'd had with Jabber in the cells would actually extend once they were out. And even though it made everything infinitely more complicated, there was an overwhelming relief in the confirmation that it did. That it would.

He sighed. 

"Honestly I'm shocked yer takin it this well. Thought you'd be the first to tell me how insane I'm being." 

"Oh it's insane for sure. Batshit actually. And honestly, when I first saw you two like that, I was ready to go in and yank you off him myself to smack some sense into you, regardless of what Tomme and Gris said."

"Why didn't ya?" 

Riyo took a second to respond.

"....I saw his face, when you put your head in his neck. Thought he'd notice us, but his eyes were only on you. And damn it Zanka, he looked absolutely whipped. I didn't even know he could make a face like that, it was kind of disgustingly sappy, actually. Guess it sorta just stunned me in place for a little bit. And then you guys started talking, and we couldn't make out everything, but he was just so...soft, it was freaky. He was like a completely different person." 

Maybe it was because he knew Jabber so intimately now, or because the change had been so gradual, but somehow this version of Jabber didn't feel contrary to the one he'd known before. Just deeper, more honest. But still the same Jabber. Though from an outside perspective, the contrast must have been jarring. 

"Look," Riyo continued "regardless of how I feel about him, its obvious you guys are head over heels for each other, so-"

"Okay, I am not 'head over heels' for him." Zanka scoffed, and Riyo raised a brow at him in response.

"I saw the way you looked at him too y'know." She said, then softened a bit. "I've known you a long time, Zanka. And I've never seen you look at anyone like that. I can't fathom why, but he makes you happy. And you deserve to be happy."

Happy, huh?

Zanka stared at the floor.

"It's just gonna end badly."

She shrugged.

"It might, yeah. But what if it doesn't?" she said, and Zanka looked up at her. "I don't know what's gonna happen in the future, but I know you, and I know that yeah, you'd be absolutely devastatedif you loved him and got your heart broken. But it would kill you if you never tried because you were scared. It would haunt you every single day, you'd torture yourself with the 'what if's. I know you would! Is it more risky than a normal relationship? Absolutely! Do I think it's insane that your first real boyfriend is a maniac with knives for fingers who publicly gets off on having the shit beaten out of him? For sure! But you care about him, and clearly he cares about you, and just once I want you to choose your own happiness without feeling fucking guilty about it!"  

Zanka just stared at her. 

"I got carried away there." She said somewhat embarrassed. "But I'm serious. I'm not saying you shouldn't be cautious, but don't get in your own way because you're bracing for impact. Maybe it'll work out, maybe it won't, but I think its at least worth a shot. ...Even if I think you could definitely do better." 

He felt the corners of his lips twitch up.

"...It's gonna be a mess. I don't exactly know how to do this kinda shit."

"I seriously doubt he does either. You can figure it out together. Or do your own thing." 

...He liked the sound of that.

"I guess we will." He said. "Thank you Riyo...for all of it."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. 

"Obviously. So, when's the wedding?" Riyo teased, and Zanka hoped his face was already red enough to disguise the sudden flush at the memory of Jabber's face when Zanka had pushed Mankira onto his bloody finger as a promise. 

"Hold on, what's that look? Zanka what's that look??" 

....

It was a day and a half before Zanka was allowed to see Jabber again, and in between a number of things occurred.

He'd gotten a new choker from Semiu; apparently the reason for the delay was that Enjin had insisted Zanka's replacement was the same model as his old one, and they'd needed to go get one instead of using one of the standard extras the cleaners kept on hand. Zanka was overwhelmingly glad he hadn't had to use one of the necklace models, even just imagining something like that around his throat again made his skin crawl. And equally as euphoric as that relief was the fact that Enjin had put special thought into it for him!

Zanka rode that high all the way to his mandatory checkup with Eisha. In the daylight, the Cleaner's infirmary was less oppressive, more familiar. The smells and various medical tools still put him on edge, but the warm colors and sunlight streaming in made it easier to mentally separate it from the labs, and Eisha's demeanor helped incredibly in that aspect as well. He passed his checkup, the only thing of note being a higher than usual blood pressure (though he knew exactly why that was, and he suspected Eisha did too) and he was cleared for field work. 

Before he left, he slipped a small empty vial into his pocket while Eisha was distracted. 

He continued training, trying to build back up the muscle and stamina that had been lost during his time in the cells. He knew the first few missions he'd be sent on would be extremely minor beginner-level fights, and he'd work his way back up to the missions he'd done before. He knew why it made sense, and that it was a matter of safety and being overcautious rather than a personal judgement of his abilities, but it still stung. He was already behind, had been even before the lab, and now he had to catch up even further. Still though, he had to admit there would be something extra satisfying about returning to the level he'd been at faster than anyone expected, and then surpassing it. That would help push him through the exhaustion and strain. He refused to believe that the labs had made him weaker, he wouldn't let them have that too. He was stronger now, he had to be. He just needed to grab that strength and rip it up to the surface. (He'd felt something different about Assistaff, as soon as he'd activated her again to train with her. He decided to keep it to himself, at least until he could figure out what it was. But it had felt like it had when she'd first unlocked the ability to sense things through vibration, and he wondered what exactly had triggered another minor evolution.)

(He had a feeling he knew.)

And through it all, he planned. Every spare moment he tried to figure out how exactly he was going get Jabber out. It was far easier than figuring out how to escape the labs at the very least. He knew all the ins and outs of Cleaner HQ, and swiping Mankira from Rudo would be easy enough. But he needed to figure out what exactly he could get away with, both in terms of what he could sneak in to Jabber's room and what information he could pass on. Zanka needed to be smart. He'd gotten lucky that Gris and Tomme had been willing to keep his secret after his moment of weakness during their reunion, but he couldn't be reckless like that again. The official reason for Zanka's visits would be to use him to get information about the Raiders, and if anyone else caught on that he had ulterior motives beyond that it would make escape that much more difficult. He didn't want to involve anyone else if he could help it, and fighting would be an absolute last resort. He could do it, he just had to plan carefully.

It was 4 days until the Hell Guard arrived, so he had 3 days if we wanted to play it safe. That would be more than enough time. It had to be.

...

When he entered the holding room again, Jabber was laying perpendicular on the bed with his legs resting up against the wall, the same position he'd constantly do in the cells when he was especially bored. Jabber had his eyes closed, and if Zanka didn't know any better he'd think he was sleeping. 

But Zanka did know better. Jabber's breathing —though steady— wasn't nearly slow enough, and his face was relaxed, but his expression wasn't quite as open as it was when he was fully passed out.

Jabber had definitely heard the door opening, but he probably wasn't aware it was Zanka in there. 

He could say something to let Jabber know it was him, sure. Or maybe he could silently creep over and scare him. But he had a better idea. 

Zanka tried not to laugh as he very quietly raised a foot and removed his shoe, glad he wasn't wearing his usual boots. 

At the sound of it sliding off his foot Zanka swore he just barely saw the corner of Jabber's lip twitch. But he was still pretending to be asleep. His funeral then. 

He took a second to aim, before flinging it right at Jabber's head. As soon as he did, Jabber's eyes opened and he moved in an instant, catching it out of the air just before it hit. 

He leaned his head back and looked at Zanka, grinning. 

"Ayo, what happened to 'no throwing it while someones asleep', huh? You goin back on your own rule?" 

"If ya wanna fake sleep to me yer gonna have to try a lot harder than that." Zanka retorted while rolling his eyes, and Jabber laughed. 

Zanka made his way over to the bed and sat on it. Jabber returned his shoe to him without a word but made no move to change how he was laying, and Zanka settled on sitting with his back against the wall and legs on the bed, the opposite of Jabber's position.

"Took you a hot second to come back." Jabber teased, resting a hand in the space between them. "You forget about me?"

Zanka put his own hand down, lacing the tips of their fingers together lightly. Here, it couldn't be seen from the door. 

"If only I could be so lucky." Zanka deadpanned, and made sure to catch Jabber's eye and give a pointed look to the door as he did, the window of which was still thankfully empty.

Like he expected, Jabber seemed to catch on immediately, and grinned. Good. Zanka kept talking.

"How'd ya know it was me? Shoe give it away?" 

"Nah, I could smell you when you came in. You smell like smoke again. The fancy shit those religious types use, not cigarettes."

Of course.

He used to envy Jabber's weirdly good sense of smell. It was just another way in which he was naturally gifted, and it had made Zanka all the more bitter. But the longer they'd been in the cells, the more that envy had shifted almost to an ironic sympathy. Zanka had managed to find some humor in the fact that apparently it didn't always pay to be gifted.

"Finally got my incense holder back." Zanka explained, and if it had been any other situation he might've let his curiosity get the better of him and ask what he'd smelled like before, but now wasn't the time for that. 

"So, y'all figure out what you're gonna do with me yet?" Jabber asked. "Do I just live here now or what?"

"The Cleaner's ain't the type to waste resources like that. Soon you'll be the Hell Guard's problem." He tried to keep his voice cold and indifferent, but he knew Jabber caught on to the underlying tension.

Jabber slowly rubbed his thumb along the side of their joined hands, still hidden from view, a silent reassurance. 

"Eh. Not like I haven't weaseled outta their grip before."

If Jabber had escaped them in the past that was even more reason why he wouldn't be able to again. They wouldn't make the same mistakes again.

"You won't this time." Zanka's voice came out a bit too pinched, revealing it as more of a genuine anxiety than the casual gloat he'd intended it to be heard as from outside. Hopefully they didn't catch on.

"Hm. We'll see about that. So how much longer do I get to enjoy these digs?"

He squeezed Jabber's hand three times and saw him mentally count.

"Like I'd tell you. I'm not an idiot."

Jabber laughed.

"Damn, that's cold! Thought you were warming up to me after our lil getaway, you really gonna leave me to the wolves?"

Absolutely not.

"That was a temporary alliance. It was mutually beneficial, and its over now. Don't think it was somethin that it wasn't."

Maybe if Jabber were anyone else he'd be worried about him taking the words at face value, but Jabber just gave Zanka the same smile he always did when Zanka lied to him, and it made his heart flip. 

"Ouch. You really know how to hit a guy where it hurts."

It sounded almost romantic, coming from him.

"Maybe I'd tell you when the Hell Guard's coming if you gave us info about the Raiders." 

Zanka already knew everything Jabber was willing to share about the Raiders; it had been a topic he'd exhausted pretty early on in their captivity, and most of it was useless. 

Jabber's eyes shined and he tilted his head.

"Oh? Like what?" 

"Where's your base?" 

Jabber gave him a look and Zanka tried not to crack a grin.

Jabber just rolled his eyes.

"Couldn't point it out on a map, but if I got within a few blocks I'd probably recognize it. So unless you're up for a fieldtrip, couldn't tell ya. Most of the time I just called Cthoni to pick me up, it was easier. And faster." 

Jabber's eyes moved to Zanka's left wrist.

"Speakin of chokers, saw you got a fancy new one, want me to punch my number in?"

Zanka casually glanced over at the door, making sure no one was looking in. The window was still empty. Good. 

He unlaced their fingers and pulled out the small vial he'd taken from the infirmary, now filled with his own blood, and pushed it into Jabber's hand silently.

"Try it and I'll break your wrist. And even if you did, not like there'd be much point."

He knew Jabber would recognize the blood for what it was: a promise twofold.

Jabber rolled the vial around in his fingers, looking at it while his smile only grew, and then he brought his eyes back up to Zanka's with a hungry look.

"Maybe I just wanna know you're carrying a piece of me with you."

Zanka double checked once more that no one was looking in, and then held his choker out towards Jabber.

"Go to hell." 

Jabber kept eye contact as he bit into his lip, tearing the fragile skin with his teeth, and blood welled up immediately. Oh.

Zanka watched, captivated, as Jabber licked it away and fresh blood immediately took its place. Zanka wanted to lick it away too. He took Zanka's left hand and intertwined their fingers again as he brought Zanka's choker towards his mouth and pressed a bloody kiss to it, the small zap of a connection being made arcing off his lips. 

Jabber licked the blood off his lips again as he brought their hands back down and then winked, and Zanka realized that at some point during Jabber's little show his mouth had fallen open, and he quickly shut it. 

"Freak." He muttered, looking away. "Ya always gotta make it weird, huh."

Jabber just laughed. 

"It's more fun that way."

...

The next day he was sent on his first mission since returning. Predictably, it was simple and straightforward. Two givers, five supporters, all for one medium-sized trash beast. At least Tamsy had been a good sport about it, and he'd let Zanka handle it pretty much by himself, which would hopefully mean his next assignment would be a few levels more difficult. 

As soon as they'd gotten back to Cleaner HQ though, the energy had been distinctly off. Semiu was nowhere to be seen, and a number of people seemed to be pretty frazzled as they moved around quickly, glancing at the group's entrance and lingering briefly on Zanka before continuing. Huh. 

It got weirder when Enjin found him pretty immediately and pulled him off from the returning group, saying he'd handle the debrief with Zanka since Semiu was busy. 

By the time they got to Enjin's room Zanka was sure something weird was happening, but waited until Enjins door was closed to speak. 

"Okay, the hells goin on? Are we under attack or something?"

Was it the Raiders? Had they come to retrieve Jabber? Objectively, a frontal attack by the Raiders was terrible news but Zanka couldn't stop the part of him that was relieved at the thought. 

"No, we're not. Well..." Enjin said, reconsidering for a second before shaking his head. "Yeah, no. Okay, look, uh. I've got good news and bad news."

"I'll take the bad news first." 

Enjin grimaced. 

"Yeah, I figured." He took a deep breath. "Okay. The Hell Guard's on their way. They're gonna be here in an hour."

Zanka's heart stopped. 

"What?" He breathed out. "No, that's- they weren't supposed to be here for at least 2 more days-"

"We don't know how it leaked, we're trying to figure it out, but someone blabbed about Jabber being here. And about you being alive."

Shit. Shit. He had an hour to get Jabber out. He needed to go, now. With no other option he'd probably end up having to fight, and as much as the idea made him sick he could ensure any damage he did was minor and non-lethal. He'd face whatever consequences came with it, no matter how severe. It was better than the alternative. If the Hell Guard took Jabber he was dead. 

"I'm sorry Enjin," Zanka said, maybe the last thing he'd say to him depending on how things shook out. He turned to leave. "I have to-"

Enjin caught his arm.

"Woah. Hey. Calm down, that wasn't all."

Zanka didn't need to hear the rest. He knew enough. And he was wasting valuable time. He stared pleadingly at Enjin, begging him to understand without having to say it.

Enjin sighed, not letting go of his arm.

"Really should have saved the Hell Guard news for the end, then. Okay. Noted." He mumbled to himself. 

"Enjin. Please. Whatever the other part is you can tell me later, I have to go."

"No you don't. Listen. The timing with the Hell Guard is bad, it is. But they're not gonna take Jabber, so you don't need to go bust him out."

Zanka stopped pulling against him. 

"What?" It made no sense. Zanka temporarily ignored the confirmation that Enjin knew he was planning on freeing Jabber and instead focused on figuring out why in the world the Hell Guard would choose to let Jabber go. "Why?"

Enjin finally let go of his arm. 

"Cause he's already gone."