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Zanka pushed forward, struggling to weave through a crowd inching down a claustrophobic street. He kept his instrument close, it was comfortin’ to feel the long stick tucked up tight against his body as he navigated the unfamiliar city. He was exhausted, his head felt foggy but he couldn' say no to a solo mission. Not when Enjin was askin’, not when he was ‘the man for the job’. He had a responsibility to live up to that, whether it was the truth‘r not.
He wasn't really sure why he could so easily be swayed by a wink and a toothy smile. Sometimes he felt like a spark from Enjin’s cigarette had embedded itself in him, an’ any time he was needed, it could be coaxed to a blaze. Maybe that was what genuine gratitude felt like.
But no amount of Enjin-inspired motivation could change the fact that he was really scuzzin’ tired.
The sun was just sinking below the horizon, its light pouring through the cracks in the buildings, spearing the streets with gold. It was rare that the heat from the sun felt this intense, always being choked by the black clouds that loomed over them. He liked this city. Maybe in another life he coulda settled down here. Zanka closed his eyes, for a moment drinking in the warmth, basking in how it made his skin sing—a hard shove to his shoulder made him stumble. Instinctively he tightened his grip on his Lovely Assistaff. There was another strike to his back. He growled, but there was no room for maneuverin’.
A third blow, this time on the opposite side, it was light and taunting. Son of a trash beast! He tried to twist, an elderly woman to his right hissed as he accidentally elbowed her. He grumbled an apology, his head whipping from side to side as he craned his neck to see behind him. Suddenly, there was a tug on his ear. He swatted with his free hand but there was nothing there.
Nothin’ there….His earring!
There was a commotion to his right, yelling, he could see people being shoved and splitting apart as someone aggressively forced their way out of the crowd. A manic, almost musical laugh rang out in the wake of all the chaos. It sounded….familiar; in the worst way. A shiver crawled down his spine.
Zanka pushed hard, pressing his staff forward, forcing those around him to shift. He struggled against the flow, people shouted angrily. He bit his tongue and kept moving. There was a sharp jab to his ribs and an angry man's cussin’ before he finally broke free and stumbled into an alleyway.
He reached up and pinched his bare earlobe, his head feelin’ lopsided. A seasoned Cleaner gettin’ mugged like that was embarrassin’. His cheeks burned. The scuzzball probably thought an average guy like him was easy pickin'—his vital instrument blazed to life, he struck the end of his Lovely Assistaff on the ground—he would have to prove ‘em wrong.
He searched through the vibrations of the dozens ‘n dozens of people that shuffled around him. He slowed his breathing, calmed his heart until even his own pulse wasn't a distraction, and then sifted through the chaotic noise until finally—there! A rhythmic tapping pulsed up through his staff and beat like a heart in his palm. It was the dancing of feet from within the darkness in front of him.
He darted forward.
The hubbub of the busy main street faded to a quiet distant hum as Zanka sprinted down the narrow passage. It twisted and turned, the veins of the city all flowing out from the center. The sound of his footsteps echoed off the misshapen walls that towered on either side of him. Houses stacked high, one on top of the other, heaps of trash carved out and molded into multistory homes.
The backstreets swallowed that blissful warmth from the sun. His eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness, the fog in his head thickened. He blinked hard to focus. He planted his staff into the ground again, this time the vibrations were so strong his arm trembled. They were close. Just up ahead he reckoned.
Zanka slowed at the next sharp turn. Water dripped down the opposite wall, he could see movement on the other side of the curve reflecting in the stream. They were there, waitin’. He readjusted his grip on Lovely and her aura grew even stronger. They way he figured, they already knew he was comin’ an’ if he was about to be runnin’ into a trap, he was runnin’ in swingin’.
He charged forward, kicking off the wall and raising his staff high above his head. He twisted, loading his arms like a spring before swinging hard, narrowly missing a mop of dreads. He hit the ground hard, a cloud of dust erupted around him. An amused cackle rang out through the commotion. Zanka ducked just as three large claws swiped through the air. He used his staff for momentum and launched backwards, out of reach.
“Zanka, my friend!” Jabber emerged from the plume of grime with a massive grin, teeth glinting even in the low light. The earring dangled from a bracelet on his wrist.
Zanka’s eyes tracked the tassel as Jabber flexed his claws. This was the second time someone had taken somethin’ from him in the last few months. And out of all the lousy, no good, trash eatin’ punks, why’d it hafta be this guy? What the hell was he even doin’ here?
“Give it back.” Zanka thrust his arm out, palm open.
“Always such a bad attitude! I’m hurt.” Jabber scrubbed his face with his hands, manically wiping away fake tears. “It’s been so long, I missed you.” He paused, his fingers in his hair, his wrist in front of his nose, he nuzzled the tassel and breathed in deeply. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull. "I’ve been thinking about you.”
Zanka felt his face ignite, like he’d been thrown into a blazing hearth. His guts squirmed, an invisible scar tingling where Jabber had punctured him. Eishia had healed him back up to fightin’ order, but there was somethin’ left behind. Somethin’ that Eishia’s Jinki couldn't remove. Zanka violently pushed away the strange flutterin’.
“You're a long way from the Raiders’ stompin' grounds. You been followin’ me?”
Jabber stilled, his smile twitching. “Not today, Jabber just got lucky.” He wiggled his hand, and admired his little prize as it swayed back and forth.
“What the hell is with people these days? Keep takin’ what's not theirs.” This better not end with him covered in shit again.
Jabber clicked his tongue a few times, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “You think you can take it from me? Are you finally ready to show me all you’ve got? C'mon!”
Zanka eyed the narrow stretch of alley in front of him. There wasn' a helluva ‘lot of room for maneuverin’. Not without destroyin’ a whole lotta people’s homes. Just from their first exchange of pleasantries an ugly gash was carved out of the building on his left. He couldn' just be considerin’ himself either. If Jabber got fired up now the whole city would be reduced back to the trash heaps it used’t be. He had to lead him out o’ here before he could go all out. The only choice was to run.
“Real talk, I ain't into chasin’.” Zanka thrust his Assistaff down into the ground, gripped the pole with both hands, and vaulted up, up, up and clear over Jabber. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he sprinted forward. For a single moment his leg weakened, his stride faltered, he stumbled forward, before quickly picking himself back up with his heart in his throat. “So if a fight is what ya want, come ‘n get it numskull!”
Jabber didn’t hesitate to take the bait. Zanka could hear the dance-like pounding of his feet as he pursued him. His high-pitched laugh, laced with unhinged delight ricochetted off the walls. His cloth tail snapped behind him as he zig zagged haphazardly, ping-ponging back and forth down the alleyway.
“Hey, Zanka, hey! When I catch you, what do I get?”
“You get the garbage beat out of you!” Zanka slid and nearly lost his balance as he rounded the next corner, his heart thundered, his legs ached. Jabber was fast. Faster than he was anticipatin’. A small burst of panic tore through his chest. He really hoped he wasn' bitin’ off more than he could chew. Nah, that was no way to be thinkin’. He was stronger than he was last time they went head-to-head. He wouldn’t be bested again. Zanka stretched out his stride and pushed himself through the burn. This time, dread head was going down!
“Do you promise? Don’t get my hopes up!”
Tsk. Damn masochist. He kept forgettin’ this guy took threats as flirtin’. Something about that sent a curious thrill through Zanka. He’d never met a guy who got his rocks off by gettin’ his teeth kicked in.
The end of the next passageway was illuminated. Zanka tore towards it at full speed, the sound of Jabber’s footsteps haunting him from behind. A cat darted out in his path, he spun to avoid it, as he turned his breath caught in his throat, Jabber’s extended claws hovered in front of his face. One sharp poison-laced tip grazed his collar before he twisted, knocking the hand away with his staff, and sprinting out of reach.
Zanka burst through the end of the passage and into a courtyard. He heard the sound of rushing water before he saw the massive fountain in the center. A mangled looking angel sculpted out of twisted metal sat at the top. Rust-tainted water poured out all around it into two tiers before falling into a large basin at the bottom. Zanka quickly surveyed the rest of his surroundings. Three other alleyways shot off of the courtyard like spokes. No use goin’ down there and getting trapped like a rat again. If they were gonna settle this, it had to be here.
“Awe, why’d you stop? I was just getting warmed up!”
A shadow fell over Zanka, he parried the blow, hitting Jabber hard and sending him flying. He smashed into the fountain and fell in the pool with a splash. Jabber exploded to the surface, sputtering and yelling.
Zanka’s vision blacked out momentarily. Like he was blinkin’ with his eyes open. That was…concernin’, but not as concernin’ as Jabber, who was already sloshing out of the fountain with all the grace of a disgruntled wet cat. He shook himself, water droplets exploding off him like fireworks. A single ray of glorious sunlight broke through the polluted sky and glistened off the golden rings in his hair as they whipped back and forth. His clothes, soaked and heavy, clung to his stomach and thighs.
“You got me all wet—hey, why are you looking at me like that?” Jabber cocked his head to the side.
“I-I ain’t lookin’ at you like nothin,” Zanka stuttered. An awful fluttery feeling squirmed through his belly.
“No, no, you are! It's kinda like...” Jabber pointed at his face as it went slack, mouth falling open, his eyes widening.
Red hot embarrassment licked up the sides of Zanka’s face. He snapped his mouth shut. His knuckles blanched white around his staff. He was gonna kick this nutjob's ass.
“I like it a lot better when you look at me like I’m trash…Oh-oh, there it is! Yeah, that’s the look I’m talking about.” Jabber smiled as he bit down hard on his bottom lip and groaned. “You know, I woke up this morning and I said, ‘Jabber, it’s gonna be a good day.’” He flung both his hands out, water spraying in an arc on either side of him. “And it is! It really—” He launched forward, “—really,” flying toward Zanka, “—really is!!”
The clashing of their Jinki rang out in the quiet courtyard. The very last bit of light from the setting sun cast long shadows across the ground as they danced around and around the fountain. Lamps from the surrounding homes flickered on and somewhere in the distance a bell rang out to the tune of seven o’clock.
Zanka parried each blow, dodging and twisting and jumping to keep Jabber on a trajectory away from the buildings, hugging tight to the fountain. Jabber seemed consciously unaware of the way Zanka controlled their fight. But a frustrated scowl was blooming on his face, the crevice between his brows getting deeper and deeper. At the very least he seemed to sense he wasn’t gettin’ what he wanted outta this.
Zanka knew he oughta end it now, but somethin’ about having the upper hand after their last two fights had his blood pumpin’. He kept pushin’ harder and harder. More, more!
And then he tripped. He couldn’t reckon how, there wasn’t nothin’ there to be trippin’ on. Jabber’s claws gleamed as they descended upon him. Zanka rolled, the sharp points narrowly missed his soft stomach and embedded in the satchel strapped to his hip. He scrambled away, his bag rippin’ open, and a flurry of magazines bursting out.
Jabber stilled, his eyes slowly getting wider and wider as he stared at one of the magazines skewered on his claws. He raised his hand, his head tilting to the side as the pages fell open. He let out a long, low whistle.
“Zanka.” Jabber’s eyes bounced from the magazine to Zanka and back. “Zanka, Zanka, Zanka!!!” A sleazy smile split his face wide open. “Are you a pervert?”
A great wave of molten lava crashed over him. His entire body flushed, red hot, boiling. His mouth gaped, too many words all fightin’ to get out at once.
“I was wondering what kind of thing might fix that bad attitude of yours.” Jabber shook the magazine in the air suggestively.
“No!” His voice clawed out of him, raspy and blazing with embarrassment. “No—I…it’s not mine.”
Jabber flipped through a few of the pages, stretching out the spine as he scrutinized a spread of a nude woman. His face twisted into a pout as he threw the magazine down into the dirt. “Is this what you like?”
They were for Semiu, she’d asked him to grab ‘em an’ it seemed reasonable enough seein’ as she was always helpin’ Akuta when they were in a jam. Not that he needed to explain that. What the hell did it even matter if this uggo thought less of him for lookin’ at dirty mags?
Jabber crouched forward, scooping up another zine, this one with a pair of bare breasts on the glossy cover. He looked down at his own chest, patting it a few times, as if comparing. He raised his head to meet Zanka’s gaze. “I think I was wrong about you. Boss said you’re from some uppity family, that's why you stand so straight.” Jabber’s eyes glowed intense fuchsia, “I’ve been dreaming about breaking your back.”
Zanka felt his embarrassment morph into anger. It was bad enough this scuzzass kept estimatin’ him, and now he was outright mocking him? Zanka’s composure shattered, he surged forward, capturing Jabber’s wrist. In one fluid motion he tugged him down, hooking his foot around his ankle and rolled. The zine went flying, its pages fluttering like a paper bird. He sank Lovely into the ground, the forked prongs pinning Jabber’s clawed hands above his head.
“You think ya better than me?” He growled, chest heaving with adrenaline. He wrapped both hands around Jabber’s throat. He knew he was crackin’, could feel the hairline fractures inside of him splitting wide open, his body trembling with the force of it. That part of him that Eishia couldn't heal seeped out of the phantom wound in his stomach. Why was it that even when he was winnin’ against Jabber, it still felt like losin’?
Jabber stared up at him wide eyed, his cheeks flushed a dusty rose. Zanka squeezed and his stomach lurched at the breathy wheeze that escaped his parted lips. He could feel Jabber’s throat bob beneath his palm, his pulse raging like a battle drum on his fingertips. Tears pooled at the corner of his eyes, clung on to long, dark lashes…
Pretty. He was so pretty n’ it made Zanka want to crawl out of his garbage skin. He felt the strength drain out of him. His arms weakened, his grip slipped. What the hell was he doing?
He took a deep breath and regained control.
Jabber gasped as soon as he pulled back, an ugly wet sound that Zanka realized was laughter trying to burst through his compressed lungs. He shook beneath him, his body squirmin’, “Why did you stop? C’mon, Mr. straight-laced! Don’t give up now." Jabber coughed between his words. "I was just starting to feel good!”
Zanka ignored him, reaching forward with a shaky hand and finally retrieving his earring. He clasped it to his ear, and his world fell back into balance.
He took one more beat to collect himself, focused on his breathin’, on pushing away the ugly feelin’s swirling around inside him. He would deal with how pathetic he was later; right now, he had bigger problems. Problems that were gettin’ agitated and wigglin’ around under him and….oh.
Another wave of heat tore through him, this time blazin’ hotter than before. He could feel the strength of Jabber’s body beneath him. Could feel his ragged breathing as he struggled rattling through them both. Zanka scrambled to his feet in a rush. He yanked Lovely out of the ground, spun her above his head, and slammed her down into Jabber’s core. He howled, clutching his middle. His body curled up on itself like a dying bug.
Zanka had had enough of this guy givin’ him the heebie-jeebies. He wiped the sweat off his brow, raised his staff again, ready to deliver another blow. The sound of footsteps echoed down one of the passageways. Not just any footsteps, these were uniform, marching.
He lowered his Jinki and pivoted, snatching Jabber up by his hair. He dragged him, kicking and yowling, towards the closest alleyway. Thing was, he knew those footsteps, had grown up with that rhythmic sound echoing through his entire childhood.
The Hell Guard poured into the courtyard just as Zanka wrangled Jabber into the alley and threw him against the wall. He tucked Lovely under his chin and held him there, firmly.
“You know who that is? Keep quiet an’ don't move!” Zanka hissed, pressing on his staff for good measure. He felt some semblance of a nod but was too distracted to care. His head was swimming, he closed his eyes to listen. A number of voices echoed around the courtyard, a small commotion about the magazines, the damaged fountain, something about a report.
“Family troubles?” Jabber choked out, his voice wheezing.
“Shut it, before I murderize you right here!” Zanka pressed on his throat again but kept his focus on the entranceway to the courtyard. He tried to slow his breathing, to quiet the rushing sound in his ears. Finally, he picked out what he was lookin’ for. A woman’s voice, sharp and commanding.
Kyouka.
He took back what he said about this city. This place was a steamin’ pile of garbage, infested with every last person he never wanted to see. And whatever business the Hell Guard had here, he wasn’ tryin’ be part of it. At this point, it made the most sense to just leave. He got his scuzzin’ earring back and he still had a whole job to do, includin’ getting Semiu more magazines.
Not to mention the storm that had been brewin’ inside of him. A fever was creepin’ up his spine and his head throbbed somethin’ fierce. He was gettin’ weaker by the minute. He needed to pick his next move carefully.
The Hell Guard filtered through the courtyard, their footsteps, shadows, and voices moving about erratically until finally they began to fade. They were movin’ on, down the same way they’d came.
Zanka sighed, his head dippin’ forward with relief, his eyes fell shut. He almost let his body relax before he realized there was still a whole problem right in front of him. Jabber had been unnervingly quiet. Zanka’s eyes snapped open. It took a minute for his vision to adjust in the dark alley. Jabber’s hands hovered on either side of his waist. No claws, just hands with the fingers slightly curled, outlining his hips. So close he could feel the heat comin’ off ‘em through his clothes.
Zanka looked up and sucked in a harsh breath. Jabber was staring back, vibrant fuchsia sinking into fiery blue. Neither of them turned away, everything shifted to violet.
Jabber’s hands hesitantly settled onto his hips, the rings on his fingers pressing divots into Zanka's sides. “You didn’t answer,” he murmured.
“My family is none of your business.” It took everythin’ in him to keep an even tone.
“Not that. I asked you before, is that the kind of stuff you like?”
Zanka could feel his heart hammering in his chest; it might beat right through his ribs if he didn't do somethin’ quick.
“Zanka.” The hands squeezed. “You’re making that face again.” Jabber’s warm breath grazed his cheek as he snorted with amusement. Jabber’s thumb started drawing an awful, torturous, mind-numbingly slow circle on his hipbone. “I ain't going to say you’re lying if you say yes, but with how you—”
Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!
Zanka let go of his staff with one hand, cocked his arm back, and punched jabber as hard as he could. The way he saw it, he didn’t have any other choice. Cuz he was about to go into cardiac arrest an’ bein’ in an unfamiliar city with no healers around, and his scuzzin’ sister hauntin’ the place, he needed to get the hell outta town. Like, yesterday.
Jabber made a surprised gargled sound, a mix of pain and delight. The second impact sent blood flying, splashing across his fist and speckling Zanka’s face with red.
On the third punch, Zanka felt his knuckles split as Jabber's nose crunched under his fist. The hands clutching his waist fell away, and Jabber’s body slumped back into the wall. Zanka pulled his hand back, shaking off the throbbing pain, his fingers dripping with blood. Holy trash beasts, that stung.
Jabber’s body slid down the wall, his arms and legs twitched, he groaned softly as his tongue lolled out of his mouth and his eyes fluttered.
“Stop bein’ dramatic, we both know you can take a beating worse than that.” Zanka kicked Jabber's foot. A sneaky smile slowly carved across the other man’s face.
“Thank you, Zan. That was real good." Jabber sighed through bloody teeth.
Zanka clicked his tongue and peeked out from the alleyway. The Hell Guards were gone now, ‘cept one that lingered around the fountain. Looked like he’d be posted there for the evenin’. Zanka needed to properly subdue Jabber before he could get outta here and get back to the Clean—
He felt a familiar prick at the back of his leg, numbness instantly crept up his calves. He managed a heartfelt curse before falling hard to his knees.
“Come join me.”
He couldn’t move, the alleyway spun, faintly he felt another prick on the back of his neck… and then he was weightless. He barely registered his body falling backwards like a rag doll right into Jabber's arms.
Not again…
Everything went black.