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An unceremonious return for a mediocre, tapped out cleaner. Zanka would feel embarrassed if it weren't for the fact he could barely feel his limbs, let alone stay conscious for more than a few blurry moments. Despite Eisha's efforts and the quick retreat, the poison Zanka was given had yet to leave his system. Although he didn't care to admit it, he was somewhat grateful for a break of sorts; at least this meant he didn't have to recount the run in with that freak to his peers yet.
Besides, he didn't know what to make of it yet, himself. Zanka wasn't comfortable admitting defeat, especially not to...him. He couldn't tell whether it was the poison making him sick or the thought of their fight. Either way, he hoped it would leave his system soon. He's of no use to anyone when he's bedridden.
He couldn't tell when he wound up in the headquarters' medical bay, or when everyone left the room to go to bed for the night, but the gentle moonlight that awoke him felt like a reprieve from his tormented thoughts. He wished to open the window to feel the breeze, but his limbs still felt like bricks. Luckily, any major internal damage had been taken care of, but he was still beyond sore.
Zanka was still happy to be awake for more than a few painful seconds, however, even if it was the middle of the night by his lonesome. With some careful maneuvering, he managed to sit up, propping himself up with the wall and his pillows. It took a fair bit of energy to do so, but he felt much better being able to see his surroundings.
A glance to his right showed a glass of water on the bedside table. He lifted his hand and tried to grasp the cup, but his grip felt loose. After almost dropping it, he decided he would try again later. Seriously, how strong was this stuff? It had to have been hours by now.
Tap...tap...tap...
A slow, rhythmic sound caught his attention. His head whipped around to the window, so fast his vision blurred. When the smudges in his eyes cleared, he saw nothing but the sky outside the window pane. He pursed his lips and looked back down to his lap. Was he hearing things?
Tap...tap...tap...
No. No he wasn't. Slower this time, Zanka lifted his head to peer out the window. He would've gasped, screamed, anything, but the air seemed to lay stagnant in his throat, pushed down by whatever fear had suddenly overcome him. He wasn't crazy, but he wished he was.
Tap...tap...tap...tap tap tap tap tap tap...
A metal claw rapped upon the glass, becoming more insistent as the wearer became clearer. His hood covered his face with an eerie shadow, yet the grin he wore seemed to shine under the glow of the moon. His hands pressed against the window and shoved upwards, opening it from the outside. The screen was made quick work of with a precise rip from his claw.
Zanka felt his chest ache as the pressure within his heart swelled. As the man climbed in, he used all his strength to push himself away. Maybe the adrenaline would help him get the energy to run, fight, or do anything other than lay there helplessly. He teetered on the edge of the bed, trying to summon the strength to no avail.
Suddenly, he felt himself begin to fall. Before he could slip off the side of the cot, the man lunged forward and grabbed his arm, yanking him back onto the bed where the other was now leaning onto with one leg on the covers.
"Hey, man, where d'ya think you're going? It's rude to leave a guest hangin' by themselves...~" Jabber murmured, barely able to contain a giggle as he spoke. The breeze through the now decimated window sent a shiver down Zanka's spine. He couldn't tell when it happened, but somewhere between his fall and Jabber grabbing him, his claws had disappeared.
"Yer back to get yer ass beat or somethin'?"
"Oh, man, Mr. Bad Attitude, you really are something!" He laughed, his grip tightening as he pulled him closer. "I'm not the one in a hospital, my man. Did I get ya good, Zan-Zan~? Does it hurt?" His free hand moved to take a jab at his stomach, which Zanka attempted to intercept by grabbing his wrist. Jabber instead pivoted by grabbing Zanka's and pinning him against the wall, moving to straddle him with his legs to keep him in place.
Zanka felt the air get knocked out of his lungs. His heart felt like it was about to explode out of his chest. He furrowed his brows and looked at Jabber's face. His expression was a twisted mix of delight and... pain.
"Hah...hah...I should be asking ya the same thing...how do those ribs feel?" Zanka said, trying to regain a steady control of his breathing. Jabber's grin widened.
"Oh, it hurts good, man...you really are a freak, huh? Wanna feel em?" Jabber teased, though Zanka couldn't tell whether he was being playful or if he was actually offering to let him feel his broken bones. Either way, it sent a shiver down his spine.
"...Are ya here to finish me off?" Zanka finally asked, his breathing still rigid. Jabber's grip softened and he laughed. It was loud. Much to Zanka's dismay, however, it didn't alert anyone around. Not that there would be anyone around at this hour.
"Finish you? Nah, that's no fun... I can feel it in you, man."
"...Feel what?"
"You wanna give me somethin' good, Zan-Zan... you wanna tear me apart...even now, when you're all paralyzed, you wanna hurt me...bad~" he replied, his hands releasing Zanka's wrists and moving to his neck. Soft at first, but his hands slowly tightened. Zanka summoned all his strength to grab his arms, attempting to throw him off.
"I can see it in the way ya struggle...in your eyes... you wanna get stronger...and rip me to shreds. Not cuz you'll be doin' anyone a favor, getting rid of a raider and all..." Jabber continued, his fingers squeezing Zanka's throat. Zanka choked and dug his nails into the other's skin, clawing and tugging as much as he could muster.
"...but because you wanna see me suffer." With that, Zanka tore his hands from his neck and yanked them forward. Before he knew what was happening, he opened his mouth and...
...crunch.
Jabber reeled backwards and yelped, holding his wrist with his hand. Zanka coughed and spit onto the blanket. To his disgust, two fingers laid on his lap. Blood ran down his chin, and Jabber's arm. He touched the corner of his mouth, looking at the red on his fingertips. He looked back up to Jabber and licked the blood slowly. The metallic tang made him feel sick.
Jabber's surprise turned into glee as he burst into a fit of laughter. Zanka felt uneasy, but he stood his ground, letting the blood drip down his face.
"That's what I'm talkin' about! Mr. Bad Attitude, you never leave me hanging!"
"Yer sick."
"Says the dude who just bit my shit off. You can't lie to me, Zan-Zan, I know you're like me..." Jabber said, his breathing hitched as he inched closer. Zanka didn't falter this time, letting the other get mere inches away from his face. He smelled like blood, sweat, and dirt, with a slight medicinal undertone.
Zanka flinched as Jabber leaned in and licked the blood off his chin, staring into his eyes as he pulled himself back. He smirked and raised his wounded hand. The bloodied stumps of his fingers were oozing, the mess almost hiding the exposed bone. Shakily, he put them to Zanka's lips.
"Want another taste?" He murmured, his grin disappearing. His eyes looked glazed over, almost as if he was silently pleading with Zanka. Much to his delight, he gave in.
Zanka held Jabber's hand up as he leaned in. His lips parted and he closed in on the flesh. It was sweet on his tongue, with that ever present taste of pennies. Jabber squirmed under his grasp but stayed as still as he could.
He bit down on the exposed flesh and tore off the squishy meat with his teeth. It was tender, yet still tough to chew. It was vile, but Zanka couldn't get enough. He continued to feast upon Jabber's skin while the other writhed in pain and excitement. He enjoyed the sound of pained grunts and whimpering as he devoured him.
"Zanka..." Jabber said, groaning. He almost wanted to ignore whatever he was going to say. Food shouldn't talk anyways.
"Zanka." It sounded more urgent now. What, was he trying to back out? After all that talk about pain and torture?
"Zanka!"
Zanka's eyes flew open at the sound of Eishia's voice. When his vision cleared, he saw her standing above him with a blood soaked cloth and a worried expression.
"U-uhm, sorry for yelling, but I thought you were in pain...a-and your mouth- it's bleeding..." she stammered, lowering the cloth to his mouth. He sat up abruptly, spooking her hand away from his face. He looked around, confused.
"Zanka? If something else is wrong, I...I need to know!" Eishia insisted, clutching the bloodied cloth tightly. Zanka briefly ignored her and looked out the window. The sun was almost completely risen and casting a warm glow across the room. As for the window itself...
...it was completely intact, and tightly closed.
"...Nothing's wrong, I apologize for worrying ya, Eishia," Zanka murmured, taking the cloth from her hands and wiping the blood from his lips. "I must've bitten my tongue in my sleep, is all."
"...Did you have a bad dream?"
"Was it obvious?"
"I was, uhm, checking your vitals when you got really... antsy? And then you started coughing and then the blood came out and-"
"I'm fine. Really," Zanka cut her off, smiling weakly. Inside, he felt his stomach churn. A dream...a bad dream. Was it all really just his head? He licked the blood that stained his teeth... he could still remember the flesh between them. The crunch of the bone under his molars.
Whatever Jabber did to him was messing with his brain. A sick sense of longing washed over him. Wherever he was, he hoped he was suffering.
Zanka just wished he'd be able to see it for himself soon.