Chapter Text
Zanka told himself to adapt to everything and anything that was thrown at him. And so far he's done as he said.
When Enjin asked Zanka to be Rudo's teacher. Zanka had made a sarcastic remark sure, but he did his part and poured time into making Rudo a respectable cleaner (he gave credit where it was due cause without Rudo's eagerness to learn and natural talent it wouldn't have been as easy).
And Sleepless nights did nothing to sway him from early workouts at dawn. That time was nonnegotiable. he worked the best in the silence of an empty gym, a habit from when he was with the Hell Guard.
He'd sneak out of his room like a runaway criminal, clutching his duffel bag to his chest while tucking around corners until he made it to the gym. Anything less than perfect as a Nijiku was a crime, his sentence was to carry that silent burden like a shameful secret and take it to his grave.
Now, those silent training in the morning was his way of keeping himself focused and honed in on every curve and notch Assistaff earned. His curated workouts and long hikes in polluted zones, were all to cultivate himself into a steadfast anchor capable of adapting to her every change.
Where he'd take a break, he fit in training sessions with Rudo that did nothing to improve his faith in humanity. The days Rudo went dumpster diving off somewhere in a polluted zone, he come back and spend 5 minutes pulling out a never ending stream of trashed treasures like a clown would do with an endless scarf. When Enjin or Riyo stopped by to watch they couldn't get enough of it. No matter how many times they'd seen it they'd always fold into bellowing laughter egging Rudo on to show them more, Rudo always obliging.
No matter how ridiculous, Zanka never let his enjoyment show on the battlefield. He purposely kept a curt and strict attitude with Rudo if only to intimidate the boy into more hard hitting attacks. That didn't stop Enjin or Riyo from catching a tiny snatch of him biting down a quivering lip or spout of laughter.
When his muscles were sore and seeking respite, he would take on a cleaning. Mostly with Akuta, sometimes Eager, but he didn't care who he was with just any team that needed a hand. On the rare occasions when Semiu was drowning in cleaning requests and Corvus gave the OK, he went on cleanings alone.
Working with his team was always the most efficient, but being alone at dusk with Lovely Assistaff held a special spot in his heart. He'd stare at the sky, watching the strokes of warm oranges, lustrous pinks, and cerulean blues blend into a blazing nova. Even under the layers of fog that swallowed the sky those vibrant colors still poked through—still the ground a desolate desert unable to nurture anything other then rotting corpses— couldn't drown out the fleeting colors fading into the horizon.
In those short moments Zanka would take down trash-beast after trash-beast, falling into a trance. The way he crushed and smashed the beasts with such ease made it look like he was dancing. It was a lonely waltz. Every step, one towards his goals and strength. Every swipe from his staff, towards his dedication and efforts. And the sizzling sound of a trash beasts corpse, to the restlessness inside him he couldn't soothe.
He didn't stop at training when the Cleaners were ever changing. New protocol, new people, and new expectations from the Hell Guard If the Cleaners failed to meet the Hell Guard would threaten to take them down for good. Zanka chalked it up to their hate for Givers being deeper than their sense of justice.
Whenever he had the chance he'd prepare morning tea, restock general supplies from the storage room, and run small errands along with the other supporters. He wasn't getting paid more to do those things—he wasn't with them for the money. It's another habit he hasn't been able to shake, constant antsy-ness and the inability to stay in one place too long.
The Cleaners was ever changing so he made it a point to grow and adapt with them so he wasn't left behind again.
That being said, today's mission only means he isn't as adaptable as well as he thought.
Semiu let them know about a few abnormal trash-beast sightings outside a small town on the edge of a pollution zone. All of Akuta's combative members and three supporters seemed like overkill for a routine operation, but since they speculated the trash-beats were from a No man's land, he could get behind the logic.
When Akuta made it into town, the townsfolk explained the trash beasts were something akin to monkeys, ones with razor sharp tails and hollowed out eyes. Nothing too out of the ordinary.
They found their usual rhythm, cornering the trash beasts, systematically whittling them down and incapacitating them. Occasionally, they'd receive maimed trash beats from Gris and Follo. Tomme kept a safe distance away from the battle stage, jotting down her observations making note of every detail, some of which Zanka didn't think were necessary. Writing about the velocity in which the beasts scratched the crack of their asses mid fight, wouldn't be revolutionary information changing the Cleaners forever. Tomme, would beg to differ.
When they encountered the Raiders on the outskirts of the No man's land—with what Zanka could only assume were vital instruments—forming trash-beasts, he rolled his eyes. Of course it couldn't just be a normal job. The Raider always happened to be lurking, crashing their gigs. Begrudgingly, they followed the Raiders into the No man's land. Trap or not they couldn't just leave them to their devices, especially if it meant repopulating the area they just cleaned out.
They had a short stand off that consisted of awkwardly staring at each other, until Enjin called them out, "You fuckers tried leaving us for dead in a trash-beast, now your making more?" Enjin pointed Umbreaker at the man, venom tainting his words more freely. Zodyl's voice was monotone and emotionless as he spoke "You all would have been worthy sacrifices." That was enough to set off a chain reaction. One after the other, the raiders spread out into the forest, the cleaners following suit to catch them. As fate would have it, he ended up face to face with Jabber, again. He was unsure if it was a blessing or curse.
"Now Zanka," Jabber purred, the mock fondness was overpowered by the rasp in his voice grated against his ear like metal to bone, "You can't leave me high and dry this time. Last time, I beat your ass black, blue, and bloody." he recalled, "You would've been nothing but fodder by now, if lil miss bang-bang braid hadn't riddled me with bullets!"
Zanka watched the man chuckle claw all his lips, he stayed deadpanned as he activated Assistaff and gripped her metal, the man continued unbothered, "Won't lie, cant say I'm really mad. If she still has the strap, tell her I'm ready for part two anytime."
Zanka scoffed, He gripped Assistaff before darting forward, "Oh, really? Next time she won't miss takin' a shot between yer' eyebrows." He didn't show it, but Riyo having a gun on her left a bad taste in his mouth. he couldn't keep up on his own so she had to step in and save his ass. He couldn't linger on the bitterness as they clashed Jinki's, high pitched screeches echoing from the metals of Mankira and Assistaff grinding against each other.
Zanka pressed in with all his body weight, feeling an ache in his back. His cerulean eyes zoned in on Jabber's magenta ones, as Jabber pressed back with the same energy. Zanka planted his feet deep into the ground rooting himself there, Jabber felt the shift in balance and abruptly pushed off Zanka. He could tell he wouldn't be moved easily. Instead he latched onto the trunk of a tree, eyes brimming with excitement as his claws broke bark.
The rematch was unexpected, yet they both seemed to teem with energy. Zanka bet he was more eager to fight than Jabber was. He wasn't excited per say, he was trying to fix his broken pride the only way he knew how, beating Jabber's ass to prove he could take a few pumps of venom—even a stab to the stomach—and get up stronger.
Jabber flung down, unfurled his claws to carve at him. Zanka reached over with his staff to catch Jabber's wrists and angle his claws away in Assistaff's teeth. He followed through the motion, spinning into a kick, the dorsal of his foot digging square into Jabber's spine.
Jabber catapulted, colliding face first into straight bark. He let out a muffled scream. The sound reverberated against the tree, birds scattering away in all directions.
Jabber peeled himself off the tree, wobbling back to reveal blood trickling down his lips and chin, "Oh shit, man, that hurts!"
Jabber slouched in on himself and Zanka's eyes widened as Mankira glowed, transforming into her true form. Jabber's lips trembled with joy, "Do it again!" He giggled, lips thinning into what Zanka presumed was a smile. It looked more like he was bearing his teeth.
"I should've started with the big guns, right? No need to hold back with you!" Jabber's grin cracked the dried blood on his cheek.
Zanka let out a short huff of air, "Still with the holdin' back bullshit huh?"
How could Zanka forget the bastard thought holding back was a power move, graciously giving normies like him a fighting chance. Zanka licked his teeth before spitting to the side getting into formation. Zanka thought he might've had some reservations about confronting the thing that had him out of commission for weeks, but he doesn't. Actually, Zanka had to chew at the corner of his lip threatening to pull into a smile. His blood started pumping faster and he felt the swell of exhilaration that came with fighting with his life on the line.
"Zanka? You holding in a laugh?!" Jabber asked, lunging for him,"Let me in on the joke man, don't keep all the fun to yourself!" He made a sudden jab, sharp claws aimed for Zanka's left side, he got deja-vu.
Belatedly, Zanka dodged. Jabber's claws only cut fabric, nearly missing his skin. He maneuvered his staff above his head before slamming down against the Raider's back legs, making him fold at his knees. "Ya' wouldn't get it, just focus on not gettin' squashed." Zanka huffed, watching Jabber revel in the pain for a moment, then bounce off his knees and back-flip onto his feet.
Zanka wasn't spared a moment to gawk at Jabber's pure athleticism, before Jabber swung his right claw over his shoulder, its larger form trailing behind. Zanka stuck Assistaff into the dirt and spun around her, avoiding the onslaught of blades, landing on a protruding tree root, nearly missing his footing.
"Fuckin' hell!" Zanka used his staff to stop himself from falling over. The No man's land they were in was similar to the one Akuta—minus Zanka—came back from. A forest brimming with life that was rid of the Ground centuries ago. He was sure it was all deadly, especially the algae lacing the bark he just slipped on, he wondered how Jabber managed to grip it so easily.
"Sticky, huh!" Jabber dragged a claw against a nearby root on the ground, "Not nice to land on if you don't have a good grip, so don't go slipping and cracking your skull on me." Jabber cooed, lips pinching upwards patronizingly as he peered at Zanka through his dreads. Zanka could help but tack on a sour expression, right on cue, Jabber threw his head back laughing loudly, a full and hearty sound.
Zanka huffed a breath and stepped off the tree root, "Thanks for enlightenin' me smart ass, let me know how they taste when I drop yer' ass onto em." Zanka sneered, winding back, and as if in sync they ran at each other head on, both bearing their teeth. They exchanged blows back and forth, dodging, finding openings, and dealing deadly attacks. A fiery dance where their feet skittered around the floor, no slowing and no stopping. The screech of metal on metal was their song.
The Cleaners? The Raiders?
It was all just pretense. An excuse to tear each other apart and say it was all for their respective factions, when it was obvious it was for their own satisfaction. If fighting was a drug, they were both beyond hooked.
"More Zanka! More! Give me all of it, everything you've got!" Jabber hollered, a slight rasp in his voice, flinging attacks haphazardly.
"Shut up, ya' know damn well I'm givin' it!" Zanka growled back, swiping Assistaff to slam into Jabber's skull. Jabber threw his head back and planted his palms onto the ground, bending back to send a roundhouse kick square into Zanka jaw that has his vision swimming.
He stumbled back, disorientated, but still holding his ground. His can't let him get another one. He was going to handle it. Handle a jaw wreaking kick, not dwell on the pain but, figure out how to counter him. Incapacitate the man once and for all.
Jabber would love that sentiment. It pissed Zanka off how eager Jabber was to get his ass handed to him. If Jabber wanted someone to beat him, then Zanka was more than willing to oblige. Not so Jabber could live out his masochistic fantasy, but so Zanka could gauge how much he's grown; bask in the glory of proving to a genius that he's not just a guy with a stick, he's got bark and bite.
Zanka defended by lifting his staff in the direction he calculated Jabber would attack next. He managed to stop Mankira, but not the kick that stuffed straight into his gut. Zanka let out a choked gasp, coughing up saliva. Zanka fell to the ground curling over his stomach. He felt like his wound had reopened and was bleeding out all over again, He's sure he'd recovered but it was still too raw, too soon to get hit in that spot. The phantom of Jabber's claws etching his guts, still haunted him.
He gritted his teeth, adjusted his grip on Assistaff, Handling it like he told himself he could. He dragged Assistaff into the dirt steadied himself and got back into formation.
Still, his mind was quick to betray him. What if he's paralyzed again? Drugged beyond belief hallucinating a fight where he wins, where he overcomes his shortcomings? He swore he'd get back at Jabber for almost kidnapping Rudo—than actually doing it—for marring Gris's worth, and for making Zanka re-prove himself to his team.
Jabber giggled, dancing around Zanka's shaky form.
"Mr. Baaad attitude, whacha feeling like? left claw, or right claw first." Jabber shifted his weight onto either foot, hopping back and forth. Zanka charged forward ignoring the sway of his body and swung Assistaff to Jabbers left, then his right, he spun her overhead swiping for Jabber's skull. Jabber managed to easily evade every attack, finally, he retaliated with his own. He shot up and spin-kicked Assistaff out of Zanka's grasp.
Zanka bit down a scream. Jabber's foot made contact with his middle finger, bending it to some odd degree, dislocating it on contact. Zanka didn't linger on it, without missing a beat, he yanked the collar of Jabber's vest, fabric bunching in his fingers as he pulled him closer, feeling his ragged breath on his skin and the way he sucked it in.
"How bout ya' shove both up yer' ass?!" Zanka threw his head back and surged forward knocking into Jabber's. Jabber's eyes rolled as blood dripped from both his and Zanka's foreheads.
But it's futile.
"Fuck Zanka, hold up, you hit hard, wasn't expecting that," Jabber's voice comes out strained and as he centered gravity, "But I still got you, I decided on my left claw."
"Huh?"
Zanka's eyes crept downwards spotting Mankira lodged into his side. His hand ran down Jabber's sleeve and he gripped his wrist, stopping her from sinking in deeper. He couldn't bear the burn of a poison pumping into his bloodstream, so painfully familiar. His legs felt weak, but he didn't fall, not yet. He looked up at Jabber not breaking eye contact as he tightened his hold and dislodged the blades from his stomach. The wound squelched and blood gushed out painting the forest floor in red. He got Zanka's right side this time, covering all the bases.
Zanka coughed up blood, he reached his free hand to wipe it away, the red smeared across his chin, banding his cheek like warpaint.
"Oh! You takin' it like a boss! I'm curious, how you'll deal with lil ole right claw?" Jabber gutted Zanka on his left side, again. Zanka's eyes rolled. His body started to shake like a rattle, But he wasn't done yet. He still stood, still held, still tried to handle it. But he was so far from control that Zanka would have laughed if he didn't hurt so much. If his head wasn't pounding and his throat didn't feel like he'd swallowed chalk.
"You gettin' used to the poison Zanka?" Jabber slipped his claw in deeper, "That's no fun, you agree, right? That's why you're over there gritting your teeth down to the bone. In my third claw I mixed up an itsy bitsy little concoction, totally deadly, shit had me out for days. You'll probably die though." Jabber's breathy laughter hit Zanka's face, all thirty-two of his pearly whites visible. He pulled at the hand Zanka was gripping, but Zanka didn't let go.
Jabber tried again with more force, still, Zanka didn't budge.
Then the unimaginable happened, Jabber stopped laughing. His giggles caught in his throat and he went dead silent. It wasn't funny anymore.
Zanka and Jabber didn't notice the slow sensation that eased into them, they were too caught up in a tsunami of thrashing emotions. Waves eased back, swelling with tension before crashing into whatever was beyond the shoreline. They were being purged, hopelessly and subtly.
Zanka tried to steady his convulsing legs, digging deep into Jabber's skin till he broke his epidermis. Warm blood dripped down his fingers and curled around his arm. despite that he couldn't ignore the burn of venom overwhelming his system, the pain had became hysterically torturous as it spread. Whatever was in that last claw, if it touched him—he cut off the thought—he wouldn't let it.
Zanka lifted a shaky hand to cup the skin of Jabber's neck, he pushed a thumb against his trachea, anything to stop his flow of air. He wouldn't make it easy, not after all he did to get into the Cleaners, not after defying his father and running off to be a Giver of all things. Jabber didn't even flinch, he kept staring at the hand gripping his wrist, zoned in on it like it was a pesky fly, like Zanka was pesky.
Zanka stared at his expression, the subtle way Jabber's lips clamped together and his clear eyes looked through him. He didn't give Jabber the fight of his life (guess that was making Jabber short circuit and forget he could move his other claw instead?). It had been so long since he had a sparkling chance to force the full brunt of his worth down a genius's throat. Finally win against one, thrash their body with his potential, each buzzing bruise a word to his scripture.
The conversation with Enjin wrapped a bandage on his festering wound, but Zanka wanted to uncover it, and reveal mended skin. His weaknesses ought not to be something that brandished him.
"Get your grubby fingers off me man, stop frontin' like you're gonna do something," Jabber scoffed, eyes flicking to the wound that was soaking Zanka's uniform in red. "Ain't no more fight, left in you." His face tightened into a frown, an expression that looked painful on Jabber. Zanka's Anima that once buzzed with vigor, only now stuttered.
He was simply waiting for it to inevitably fizzle out, the same way it always did. Like watching a light bulb flicker waiting to be replaced once there were no more sparks.
When he didn't get a response he geared up his third claw (he remembered he could control it with instinct alone,) and dragged his eyes to Zanka's, either out of habit, or to watch the man take his final breath. But once he looked, it was like he couldn't look anywhere else anymore.
Purging.
Prickles of needle-like pain, ran up and down their bodies a visceral reaction, a numbing one. An overwhelming pressure spread through them leaving their muscles stiff, not able to flex, pull away, or deny.
Jabber stumbled as the feeling crept in, paralyzing him. Zanka's knees buckled. Forget the drowned, the things crushed in the wake of the tsunami, what was Zanka feeling? Was it the poison? No, at this point he knew what that felt like. It didn't burn like Jabber's poison did it was completely different.
It felt like he was being pulled out of his skin, someone was pulling him like a rubber band, feeling the strain, before snapping him. He could barely see Jabber through his darkening vision but, he could tell he was feeling it too. When Zanka's grip finally loosened everything went dark.