Chapter Text
The jobs Zodyl has been giving him are getting steadily more intense. Zanka didn’t know what to think at first, when he was assigned missions a child could do. But it’s been about 2 months now, and quick fetch quests turned into covert information gathering. Those, in turn, became talking to brokers. Lots of brokers.
It’s still unclear what details Zodyl is searching for, but Zanka reports detailed accounts whenever he returns to their base and the man seems satisfied enough with his work. He doesn’t offer it often, but the smallest praise for a job leaves Zanka grinning like a fool as he leaves. It’s a subtle thing; Zanka has learned to read between the lines when it comes to Zodyl. Zanka never bothers with concealing his reactions. No one cares what he says and does here, as long as he completes his job to a satisfying level.
It makes for great opportunities to improve his skills, far more real-world experience than the Hell Guard academy offered. Several times now, Zanka has scraped through a bad encounter. Usually, whichever shady guy he’s been told to meet with freaks out upon seeing him, thanking he’s too young to be there. They’ll exclaim that he’s there as bait for the Hell Guard, or something equally as ridiculous, so Zanka has to subdue them before they eventually concede and hand over what they know.
Unfortunately, the thrill of taking down adults twice his size wore off quickly. Despite being merely average himself, it seems that a lot of criminals on the Ground are far weaker than he is. It’s been making him wonder what all that extra force was for in the Hell Guard training modules, since he’s not yet had to use any of it. Instead, he’s been steadily increasing his expertise with his recently dubbed Lovely Assistaff. Breaking kneecaps is a little exciting, but Zanka doesn’t usually go much further than that.
“Zanka, I have a new job for you.” Zodyl says one evening as he enters the rear area of the base. The man sits with his back to Zanka, gazing wide-eyed into TV static as usual. “I will need you to leave right away, it’s urgent.”
“Of course.” Zanka responds, gripping Lovely close in excitement. There are several other new recruits to the Raiders, but it’s still Zanka that gets assigned the urgent tasks. It’s incredible, being trusted with the important stuff, even if it did seem like grunt work at first. “What d’ya need me to do?”
“Cthoni will transport you to a nearby polluted zone.” Zodyl drones.
Zanka hears some crunching. He can’t tell what Zodyl is eating with his back turned, and for that he’s partially grateful. As much as he admires the man, watching him eat is a little grotesque.
“There, you will find a trafficker,” He continues, talking with his mouth full, “with some information about Vital Instruments. It should be a scroll, or a book of some kind.” Another loud crunch reverberates in the room. “After you aquire the information...”
Zodyl turns, his void-like eyes piercing into Zanka’s blue ones. Zanka resists the urge to gaga, seeing what looks like a partially chewed rat tail hanging from the Boss’ mouth.
“I want you to dispose of him.” Zodyl commands.
Zanka gulps, “d-dispose like...?” He shuffles his feet slightly, nervous and unsure. Zodyl can’t really be asking him to kill someone, right? That seems a little far, even for him, based on what Zanka has learned about him over these 2 months.
“If others find out what he gave you, it will put a target on your back.” Zodyl explains, voice impassive and cold. “We will end up wasting time in trying to quell the interest it sparks in our organisation.” He sucks some bloody residue from his thumbs, unblinking. “If you believe you cannot do this for me-”
“No!” Zanka cuts in, sweat pooling on his back. “I can do it. I promise.”
“Good.” Zodyl says, turning back to the TV static.
Zanka feels a smile creeping along his face. It doesn’t really count as a compliment, but it’s close enough. Just that one word, and Zodyl has confirmed that Zanka is trusted for his mission. Sure, its morbid, but he likely would have killed someone eventually as a Hell Guard officer. This isn’t that much different, if he thinks about it.
If anything, it’s for a better reason than just chasing down criminals. Zodyl has been kind enough to give Zanka many lectures on his hatred of the Sphere since he’s started working with him, and he’s found himself agreeing with the reasoning more often than not.
What's one person, in the face of the entire Ground’s future? If Zanka can’t do this mere task, for the person who saved him from himself, what good is he at all? How can he possibly get stronger and prove himself if he lets himself be held back by the morals of people he no longer considers family?
He can’t.
From the corner of his eye, he spots Cthoni as she slinks out of her spot in the shadows. It had taken him a few weeks to get used to, but now he just assumed that wherever Zodyl is, Cthoni is close by. Watching.
She opens up a swirling portal using her Instrument and ticks her head to the side, indicating it’s time to leave.
Zanka gives her a smile and a nod, marching into it without delay. Impressing Zodyl and getting the information he wants are Zanka’s top priorities, and he can start by going into the mission with confidence.
“I’ll pick you up when you’re done.” Cthoni mutters, just before the nauseating pulse of being teleported consumes his body, and he’s gone.
-x-
Zanka’s sat on the chest of a man easily twice his height and weight, hunched and breathing heavy. Lovely rests at the junction of the man's neck, her spikes digging right into his jugular. There isn’t any blood, just sprawled out limbs that bend the wrong way in several places.
He thinks the man is screaming, but it's hard to tell over the ringing in his ears. Zanka has the urge to drive Lovely down further, really pushing the limits of the delicate skin on the men’s neck. Hm. Zanka never even caught his name. Not that it matters, really.
“You were supposed to just hand it over.” Zanka grits out, voice coming in with a rasp he can’t shake. “Then I woulda killed ya quicker. But nah, you just had to cause an issue.” He tilts Lovely’s handle harshly, digging one side of her jaws deeper into the trash below, so he can get a better look at the guy’s face.
“P-Please, please!” He’s pleading. Eyes wide and streaming with tears. Theres even snot bubbling in his broken nose. Gross. “Please, don’t kill me! You have it- I gave you the book, right? I gave it to you! So, you can just let me go, please!” The man’s voice heaves with broken sobs.
Zanka finds himself laughing a little. He isn’t really sure why, it’s not like anything the man said was particularly funny.
“Sorry,” he replies, not really apologetic at all, “but I was asked ta do a job.” Zanka leans his head back slightly and smiles. “My boss trusted me with this, so I gotta see it through.”
The begging starts up again, but Zanka is already tuning it out. Theres a familiar thrum of anima coursing through his arms, a type of giddy excitement he echoes back to his Instrument, telling him she’s gearing up to do something brilliant. That she feels his power and wants to show him something worthwhile.
The energy snaps hard in his chest, and he releases it.
All at once, Lovely’s spiked jaws emit a powerful and hydraulic-esque hiss. The pressure is intense and it’s all Zanka can do to hold her down on the man’s neck. She reacts to his intent and-
She bites down.
Warm and iron scented blood splatters Zanka’s hands, arms, and face. He managed to shut his eyes in time but unfortunately not his mouth. He rolls over and spits it out immediately. It’s not really the taste he’s worried about, more so the unknown amount of diseases this guy was surely harboring. He’ll have to visit some kind of medical personnel later.
Theres nowhere to wipe the rest of the blood, so he keeps Lovely in her activated state, kneeling and hunching over her like he’s protecting her from the world. He can’t have the substance leaking into her wood. At least, not this guy’s blood. She deserves someone far more worth her time.
He’s suddenly struck with the thought that he could infuse her with his own blood. Would that be an insane thing for him to do? They’re already alike in spirit, why not in body too?
The man is quiet.
Zanka’s head shoots up and snaps over to the... corpse. He did that. He made a person into an object. Inanimate. Lifeless.
Less real than the stick he clutches in his hand.
The thought makes him snort, then slam a hand over his mouth in shame.
“What is wrong with you?!” He hisses into the evening air. Theres no one around to hear him, so no one responds. Zanka grips his hair and pulls, trying to regain the feeling there. Trying to feel anything.
He just killed someone, he should be feeling something, right?
It was a common thing discussed within the Hell Guard, both in the Academy and in muttered conversations between officers. The guilt. It’s normal to feel guilty. Their job is to apprehend criminals, but sometimes things go wrong and you may have no choice but to take a life. Most officers will go their whole career without having to do that. For the few that do... They’re taught that the guilt that comes with it is expected. They can work through it.
Zanka’s heard similar speeches and ‘mental health talks’ his whole life. In a way, he’s been prepared for this. But, even after all of that, no one once told him what to do if he didn’t feel guilty at all. Or... if he enjoyed it.
The feeling of power and the knowledge he’s doing exactly what’s expected of him. Finally, he’s found somewhere that he can live up to his potential.
Lovely Assistaff’s anima thrums under his fingers like a purr. It feels like a celebration.
Just then, the familiar swirl of Cthoni’s portal fills his vision, quickly followed by the woman herself. Still crouched on the ground, Zanka can only look up to her and smile.
“Do you have it?” She asks in lieu of greeting.
Zanka nods, holding up the book that’s been wrapped in several layers of canvas and hands it off to her without argument. Cthoni accepts it easily, then scans the environment with sharp eyes. They pause on the body he knows still lies behind him.
“I got rid’a him.” Zanka reports. For some reason, his hands are shaking around Lovely’s grips. “Just like Zodyl asked.”
Almost imperceptibly, she nods, then gives him an assessing look.
“How old are you?”
The question catches him off guard. In the whole time he’s been here, Zanka doesn’t think Cthoni has asked him anything not directly related to whichever mission he was on. She doesn’t ask anyone else, either, so he figured it wasn’t a personal thing, just that she was reserved.
“Uhm. I’m fourteen.” He says dumbly. Then, for lack of anything to add, “H-how old are you?”
“I’m twenty-four.” She responds, then holds out a hand for him to help himself up with.
Zanka takes it, making note of how she doesn’t care that he’s covered in blood. Still, he wipes his hand on the legs of his newly given Raider’s uniform, hoping to get rid of the sticky feeling that coats it. As he stands, he realizes he’s towering over her.
“You look... younger.”
Cthoni rolls her eyes. “I get that a lot.”
Zanka nods his head slightly. The awkward energy between them is eating at him. He knows that she doesn’t particularly care for him... at least, he doesn’t think she particularly cares for anyone that isn't Zodyl, but he had been steadily working on his ability to talk to her.
Cthoni transports the Raiders to and from all of their assignments, as well as working on her own things for Zodyl when she isn’t doing that. Since leaving the Hell Guard, Zanka doesn’t think he’s seen her do anything that isn’t strictly mission related.
Which sucks for him, because he has something he’s been wanting to do since he realized he wasn’t under the watchful eyes of his parents and siblings anymore. He’d just need Cthoni’s help to get there and do it.
If this is the most conversation, he can manage with her without it getting awkward, then there's no chance of him being able to butter her up before asking.
Cthoni gestures for him to go through the portal, but Zanka’s already steeling himself where he stands. No time like the present, he supposes.
“C’mon, let's go.” She says, crossing her arms as she waits.
“U-uhm, actually, I had a favor ta ask, if it ain’t too much trouble?” Zanka rushes out. Cthoni says nothing, just gives him a flat look. He feels his neck flush. “W-well since I guess I’ve finished the mission now, and Zodyl said durin’ my last mission, that after my next mission, I could have some time off-”
“Get to the point.” Cthoni cuts in, clearly unimpressed with his rambling. Or maybe she just doesn’t care that much, seeing as she always looks a little unimpressed with everything.
He takes a deep breath and steadies himself.
“Will you take me to get my ears pierced?”
“Enjin-”
“No.”
“Enjin, I wanna-”
“No.”
Jabber pouts in the back seat of the car, crossing his arms and laying his head against the window. The landscape crawls by slowly in the distance, mountains of trash piled high on the horizon. A terribly boring view that matches Jabber’s terribly boring day.
“You said we’d get to fight if I did the job.” Jabber mumbles as he pulls his uniform’s hood down low over his face. He’s blatantly sulking, but who cares? Not Enjin, apparently.
Enjin takes a drag of his cigarette, then tosses it out the window.
“I said we could spar in the training rooms, if you behaved on the job.” He corrects with a slightly sarcastic lilt. “I did not agree to brawl with you on the side of the road, and you were a menace the moment you set foot out of the car.”
They careen over a particularly large bump in the road, causing Jabber to almost hit his head on the roof of the car.
“Face it, you ain’t gettin’ shit from me, kid.” Enjin finishes with a chuckle.
Jabber groans and dramatically flops over sideways to land his head in Riyo’s lap. She’s been quiet the whole ride back, simply enjoying Jabber’s chastisement with a small grin on her face.
“Riyooo,” Jabber whines, “fight me, please, I’m so bored!”
“Do not fight him!” Enjin snaps back at them both, nearly swerving the car to point back at the pair. “You’ll send me grey before I even hit thirty!”
Riyo snorts, messing with the few locs that have escaped Jabber’s hood.
“Well now I kind of want to.” She teases, laughing again at the shouts of protest from Enjin.
“And anyway,” Enjin shoots Jabber a pointed look in the rearview mirror, “you’re on cabinet duty with Eishia in the medical ward this afternoon.”
Shooting back up with a wild grin, Jabber lets out a loud ‘whoop!’ and bounces slightly in his seat with excitement.
“Yes!” He cheers, and holds his hands out in front of himself to admire the rings adorning his fingers. “More fun stuff for Mankira!”
Jabber has had a slight growth spurt since joining the Cleaners a year ago, so the rings now rest more comfortably on his top knuckles. They're still a little loose, but they no longer slide down to hinder his ability to bend his fingers, so the fit bothers him a lot less. His only worry is that he grows so much she no longer fits him. He’s not sure what he’d do with himself if that happened.
Enjin sighs. “No testing it on yourself this time, though.” He reminds Jabber, once again, of the rules surrounding this particular job. “Just because you know what it does, doesn’t mean you can put it in your body.”
“What if I don’t know what it does?” He asks, biting his nails in anticipation.
“Then you especially can’t!” Enjin throws an arm up in indignation. “And anyway, that’s literally impossible! Mankira will tell you what it is, that’s why you’re doing the damn job!”
“Hah, true.” Jabber concedes with a laugh.
Jabber leans back in the seat and gives Mankira a softer smile, tracing each of her segments with his thumb. He loves to admire her in this way, quietly and with love. She’s the reason he’s currently alive, and was able to stay with the Cleaners instead of being handed over to the Hell Guard.
It took a while to find out what her true purpose was, since he was so jumpy and defensive in his first few weeks in HQ, but accidentally giving himself alcohol poisoning was the first hint. After his stay in the infirmary, where he was monitored with an IV drip, it seemed that Mankira’s poisoning effects no longer worked. It wasn’t until after Jabber accidentally overdosed on what was supposed to be normal painkillers that anyone caught on that she was mimicking chemical effects... and magnifying them.
It was Corvus himself who suggested Jabber team up with Eishia and join the medical side of things. While the method of injecting isn’t exactly ideal, Corvus had argued that Jabber had real potential to become a crucial element of first aide in the field, if he could develop a non-dangerous pain killer for Mankira to give people. Injured Cleaners, or civilians caught in the crossfire of a job, Jabber could be there to help out.
At first, the position hadn’t sounded appealing at all. Why would Jabber want to help weaklings who couldn’t stand up for themselves? He learned to get back up again, all on his own, why should he give a shit when others can’t do the same?
But the reward far outweighs the cost of the job. Every now and again, Jabber will get to test out new medications with Mankira... Not on himself, unfortunately, and ‘test’ probably isn’t the correct word. More like, he helps to decide on dosages for the random assortment of stuff that makes its way into the medical ward, and Mankira gets lots of new tasty treats to enjoy while she tells him all about them.
Medication is hard to come by on the Ground, which is why people pay out the nose to get any type of care. Cleaner HQ is no stranger to this, but have a few contacts that can provide a steady supply of... random crap they come across.
Before, it was the job of the head medical officer in the HQ to run tests on any new deliveries that came in to determine what the medications were, and how they should be stored and dosed. The only issue is that the process took forever, and wasn’t always entirely accurate.
Jabber fixed that issue with his arrival. As soon as Mankira gets a trace of a substance, it’s like she knows immediately what it is... it’s up to Jabber to interpret and communicate that, of course (he thinks he’s read more medical and medicinal textbooks in the past year than anything else he’s read in his entire life) but she never lies, and his communication with her is getting more accurate by the day.
What took the old process weeks, takes Jabber only an afternoon. It's his favorite part of the month.
They finally pull up in the drive of HQ, and like usual, Jabber jumps out of the car before it’s fully parked, ignoring the barked warning of Enjin as he goes.
“Stop doing that!”
“Sowwy, can’t hear you!” Jabber singsongs back, already skipping to the entrance and pushing open the doors to the lobby. “Hi Semiu!”
“Hey.” Semiu greets him with a small smile, then raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “You’re back early.”
Jabber shrugs and sighs, “There was no one to stab with Mankira, so we wrapped up.”
She hums in sympathy, but ultimately turns back to reading her magazine. “Eishia’s waiting for you upstairs.” She tells him. “Better go before Enjin comes through that door and whoops your ass for jumpin’ out the car... again.”
“Enjin wouldn’t whoop my ass if I wanted him to.” Jabber pouts again. He’d tried time and time again. “How’d you know I jumped out the car anyways?”
Semiu just gives him a look, not even needing to activate her Instrument to see right through him.
“Okay, fair.” He giggles, then starts skipping to the hallway that leads to the elevator. “See ya Semi!”
“Have fun!” She calls back.
Jabber makes it to the medical ward finally, bursting into the room with his usual gusto.
“Eishia, I’m back!” He calls, laughing as the girl squeaks in surprise and nearly drops an entire tray of bandages and various other medical supplies.
She sets the tray down carefully and places a hand over her racing heart, finally turning to look at him with an expression Jabber would describe as ‘I’m-Seriously-Going-To-Have-A-Heart-Attack-One-Of-These-Days'.
“Honestly, you’re almost worse than Auggie.” Eishia sighs, then points over to a worktop laden with several beat-up looking boxes. “That’s the newest delivery.” She explains. “I don’t know which supplier they got it from this time, but it looks... shadier than normal, so be careful.”
“Yes! I love the shady stuff!” He cheers. Eishia shoots him a withering look but doesn’t otherwise argue with his excitement, busying herself with the rest of the supplies that were sent in.
Jabber bounds over, curiousity piqued. The shadier deliveries usually had the more interesting things for Mankira to sink her claws into (hah), so he’s eager to see if there's any substances she hasn’t tried yet.
He also likes the more dubious shipments because, if he’s lucky, there's stuff mixed in that isn’t... strictly medical.
Unpacking the various glass vials and bottles, Jabber lines them up in his usual fashion. Larger quantities towards the back, which leave a lot of room for error. Smaller vials get priority, so he can give them as much concentration as they need. He usually starts flagging a little towards the end, since using Mankira in this way still gives him miniscule effects that pile up over time, and he doesn’t want to risk mislabeling anything.
He opens a drawer and grabs a handful of pipettes and a pair of goggles. The latter isn’t strictly needed, but everyone else has been drilling ‘lab safety’ into his head since he got here, so now they just feel like a part of the process.
“Now, the fun part.” Jabber whispers with a smile and lets the cooling anima sensation envelop his fingers for Mankira to activate on his left hand, drawing out her gleaming claws.
With his right, he uncorks the nearest vial, and draws some of the liquid up with the pipette.
During his first identification session, Jabber had assumed that in order for Mankira to absorb a something, he’d have to ingest it first. It was partially successful. Jabber would dab a drop of whatever it was on his tongue, then wait for her anima to spark with recognition. He’d refer to a textbook and the answer would seem to jump out at him on the page, responding to his own understanding of the chemical.
That's how he ended up OD-ing a second time. Enjin had nearly had a cardiac event.
Since then, through much trial and error, they’d discovered that dropping something on the back of his hand was enough for Mankira to absorb it, so that became the preferred method.
It’s the boring way. But it’s also the way that doesn’t earn Jabber the most boring lectures in the history of all chastisement. So, it’s the way he does things for his own sake.
Getting into the zone, Jabber goes through several vials and bottles, organizing and labelling them accordingly.
Chlorhexidine Gluconate
Ethanol
Morphine
Oxycodone Hydrochloride
And-
He pauses when he reaches a small packet of salt-like powder. Jabber doesn't need Mankira for this. He recognizes the drug instantly.
“Eishia.” He calls, breaking the comfortable silence of the room. Jabber’s voice feels far away, like it’s not really coming from his own body. He can’t tear his eyes away from the packet.
Mankira burns slightly on his fingers. He feels her anger and tries to snuff it out. He knows she knows what it is, but she’s never held it within herself. It's something Jabber knows from before she saved him.
“What is it?” Eishia asks as she walks over, lingering just at the edge of his vision. “Something dangerous?”
Jabber hums noncommittally, tilting his head slightly. “Not exactly... Hey, who’d you say the delivery came from, again?”
Looking a little worried now, Eishia plays nervously with Type: Heal wrapped around her neck.
“U-uh, I’m not sure, exactly... Just that it’s not our usual supplier, since they ran into some issues...” Her eyes flick to the door and back. “S-should I tell Corvus something’s wrong?”
Jabber slides the packet over to her, refusing to acknowledge the way his hands shake with the movement.
“Nah, it's chill. That’s just flunitrazepam... a type’a benzo.” Jabber reassures her, still floating away a little, in his head. “I just wanna know why it’s been crushed up like they tryna roofie someone.”
He hears Eishia let out a small gasp and watches as she quickly takes the packet away from the workstation. Jabber’s shoulders loosen immediately. Weird. He’s never felt better after someone’s taken drugs away from him before.
“I’ll report this to Corvus right away.” Eishia reassures him, and damn, why does he actually feel reassured by that? “Just wait here!” She calls as she rushes from the room.
Jabber stays frozen at the workstation and gazes impassively at the sea of chemicals in front of him. Mankira burns across his fingers in a distant rage he can’t quite place.
“Hey, Mankira.” Jabber murmurs, picking up one of the unidentified bottles. “Let’s try doin’ this is the old-school way, huh?”
Anima sparks across his fingers like lightning, and Jabber laughs in the empty medical ward.
“Yeah, you said it, girl!” He tips the bottle back with his head and gulps.