Work Text:
From the way Zanka sat down and held his utensils to the way he fought, he led a very formulaic life.
He fought with proper stance and technique, calm and reserved, just as he had been taught when training for the Hell Guard. He didn’t bother shit-talking his opponents, he preferred to fight with actions over words. He was the type to play by the rules, spoken and unspoken, in battle. He was no cheater when it came to combat. If he wasn’t strong enough to beat someone without cheap tricks, then he simply wasn’t strong enough. Too average. Not green enough. (Haha get it like the meme)
His fighting style was perfect for exterminating trash beasts, but when it came to fighting Jabber…not so much.
Jabber thrived on unpredictability. He blurted out exactly what came to his mind, allowing no time for processing or reflecting. He had no set style of fighting or rules. He just did what he felt like at the moment. He quite literally bounced off the walls. His randomness was why he was able to best his opponents so easily. Or at least, that’s what Zanka determined.
No matter how close he’d come to finally landing some good blows or even winning, Jabber always found a way to prick him with those sneaky claws of his. How was he supposed to beat someone who was completely unreadable?
It wasn’t as though this was their first fight. They’d been sparring for months now, and Zanka had lost every single time.
At first, he assumed he needed to adjust. So, he studied Jabber’s movements and memorized all his habits. He hyperanalyzed all his own mistakes after every fight and ensured he wouldn’t make the same ones again.
Unfortunately, it didn’t make a difference. Every time Zanka thought he finally had Jabber figured out, that bastard had another trick up his sleeve and sent him flying.
Zanka was getting real tired of losing. It was making him go stir crazy. He couldn’t stop thinking about beating the ever-living shit out of Jabber’s naturally talented ass. He became obsessive, imagining the moment he would finally win. He replayed their fights in his mind so many times he even dreamt of them before.
Jabber had to have some kind of weakness, and he needed to find it and exploit it.
And then, as if a literal lightbulb lit up in his head, Zanka realized what it was.
If unpredictability was what made Jabber so difficult to beat, then perhaps Zanka needed to be a little bit less predictable himself…
He would need to catch Jabber completely off guard. Something he would never expect. Something so out of character that Jabber wouldn’t know how to react.
Zanka smiled the most sinister smile.
He knew exactly what he was going to do…
Psychological warfare is what he called it.
To succeed, he knew he needed a lot of mental preparation. This would be his most difficult battle yet. But he was excited because he felt confident with his new plan.
Jabber wouldn’t know what hit him…
Zanka walked into their next sparring session looking…confident?
Jabber knew something was up the moment Zanka smiled at him.
“What’s got you in such a good mood today, Mr. Bad Attitude?” Jabber asked, slightly confused. He had only ever seen Zanka’s usual resting bitch face aside from his loopy grin he wore whenever Jabber managed to scratch him with his neurotoxins.
Zanka didn’t respond, opting to stay mysterious. He simply continued to stare at him with the same unsettling smile.
“…What?”
“Oh nothing…” Zanka tilted his head.
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like…” Jabber paused to put a name to the feeling. “Like you know something I don’t…”
Zanka’s smile widened.
“Maybe I do.” His plan was going perfectly, and this was barely just the beginning of it. He could hardly contain his excitement.
Jabber narrowed his eyes at him, clearly suspicious.
“Whatever…you ready?”
Zanka’s smile never faltered.
“Always.”
“Then quit starin’ and fight,” Jabber said, activating his claws.
Zanka followed, settling into his usual stance.
Except this time, he wasn’t going to fight the way he usually did.
He rushed forward to make the first move, quickly closing the distance between them. Jabber raised his claws, preparing to block his swing.
But the swing never came.
Instead, Zanka stopped just short of Jabber and leaned in real close.
“You look hot today,” he said with the most embarrassing sultry expression he’d practiced in the mirror just for this moment.
Jabber froze, clearly dumbfounded.
“…huh?”
Zanka smiled and then smacked him into the wall with his staff, taking advantage of Jabber’s moment of hesitation.
Jabber got up swiftly, his face twisted in confusion. “The fuck was that?”
At this point, Zanka was overjoyed. He was right. Now he had to keep exploiting this new element of surprise until he was victorious.
Jabber charged at him quickly, ready to return the blow.
Zanka barely had time to raise his weapon before Jabber was on him. He just barely dodged.
Jabber was angry. Perfect.
Jabber spun around and lunged again, claws aimed directly at him. Zanka caught his wrist, the momentum of Jabber’s attack bringing them dangerously close.
Zanka quickly slid his hand up from Jabber’s wrist and grabbed his clawed hand.
He looked down at their interlocked fingers.
“You know,” he said casually with a big smirk. “I wouldn’t mind holding your hand like this more often.”
“…WHAT-” This time, Jabber visibly blushed. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He looked like he was actually short-circuiting.
Zanka immediately used the distraction to swipe his feet from under him with his staff.
Jabber looked up at Zanka with a betrayed and flustered expression. He didn’t look like he was having fun in this match. Now he knew how Zanka always felt.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Fighting, obviously.” Zanka grinned. “You’re pretty cute when you’re confused.”
Jabber got up again, determined to shut Zanka up.
“You can’t just say shit like that in the middle of a fight.”
“Like what?” Zanka feigned innocence.
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
He managed to get the upper hand, cornering Zanka against a wall. He grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and yanked him closer.
“Got you now.”
He fully expected Zanka to panic like he usually did or counterattack, but Zanka just looked him straight in the eyes…
“Your eyes are really pretty.”
Jabber didn’t give Zanka the satisfaction of a flustered expression, but his grip loosened.
Zanka used that hesitation to duck under his arm and hit him into the ground.
Zanka was definitely doing this on purpose. And Jabber was falling into every trap. This irritated him even more.
They exchanged blows back and forth, and it almost seemed like Zanka was done with his nonsense. Zanka was fighting like he usually did, and Jabber was starting to wear him out, or so he thought.
Jabber knocked him down and pinned him, straddling his hips, clawed hand getting ready to deal the fight-ending blow when Zanka spoke, breathlessly.
“Damn, Jabber,” Zanka gave his most charming smile, gazing up at him through his lashes. “I didn’t take you for the cowgirl type. We could do whatever position you want, though. I don’t mind.”
That really did it. At that moment, Zanka had won.
“YO- WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?”
Jabber stared at him, slowly registering their position. His face turned bright red, and he lost whatever composure he had left. Zanka quickly switched their positions, pinning Jabber’s neck down with his staff and keeping his clawed hands above his head with his other hand. Jabber looked completely stunned.
“I win.”
“You ruined the whole fight,” Jabber pouted. “That was no fun at all.”
“It was fun for me.” Zanka smiled genuinely.
“You are such a fucking cheater.” Jabber looked at him in disbelief.
“There are no rules against psychological warfare.”
“That is NOT what psychological warfare is.”
“It worked thoughhh~”
“I hate you.” Jabber groaned and covered his face.
“Aww, I’ve never seen you so flustered before.”
“Shut uppp.”
“What? It’s cute.” Zanka laughed, continuing to tease even though he’d already won.
“Stop callin’ me that!”
“Why?”
Jabber honestly didn’t have an answer. Zanka was so amused.
“Ya really don’t know what to do with yourself, do you?”
“No,” Jabber said quietly, still wallowing in his embarrassing defeat. “You really did all that just to win?”
“Of course.”
“You practiced that shit, didn’t you?”
“…Maybe.”
“You practiced flirting with me.”
“It was psychological warfare.”
“You gave me the “fuck me” eyes to beat me in a fight!”
“And they worked.” He looked proud.
Jabber started laughing at himself and the absurdity of the situation.
“You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“And I won.” Zanka continued to celebrate.
“Barely.”
“A win is a win.”
Jabber shook his head.
“So, what now, Mr. Psychological Warfare?”
Zanka shrugged, picking up his staff. He hadn’t really thought that far forward.
“Now, I enjoy my victory.”
“Yer not gonna shut up about this, are you?”
“Never.”
“Rematch next week?”
“Yeah. Can’t wait to beat you again.”
“It won’t be so easy next time.”
“Whatever you say~” Zanka stood up and walked away.
Jabber stayed seated where he was, reflecting.
Maybe he could get used to this psychological warfare.
Extra: Psychological Warfare Has a Lasting Effect to Zanka’s Surprise
After their fight, Jabber was a mess. It was so unlike him to be flustered and shy. He was the one that caught people off guard when he said outlandish things, not the other way around!!
But the way Zanka looked at him when showering him with compliments and flirting was unlike he’d ever seen before.
His mind couldn’t stop replaying those moments. He felt weird. He was all nervous and excited for their next match. He wondered what Zanka would say the next time around and what he’d say back.
Maybe Zanka had broken him.
Their next match started normally.
Zanka had a new, genuine confidence from his first win, and he prepared to torture Jabber some more.
But Jabber had a plan of his own.
He charged at Zanka, and Zanka was able to parry his clawed attack. He was getting stronger.
Then Jabber smiled.
“Zanka, you’re so pretty. Even down to the way you swing your staff.”
Zanka didn’t show any signs of being affected aside from the slight reddening of his ears. But that was enough for Jabber to know he could get under his skin.
Zanka had an oh-shit moment when he realized psychological warfare could go both ways.
And it did.
They both took turns exchanging blows and…complimenting each other? Everything they said escalated, neither giving up until they literally stopped fighting and were just back and forth, one-upping each other’s explicit comments.
“Wait, we aren’t even fighting anymore.” Zanka was the first to realize.
“No, this is still a fight.” Jabber retorted.
They both went quiet for a second, leaning in unknowingly.
And then they made out.
Haha. The end.
Zanka had won…but at what cost.
Now a crazy Raider was obsessed with him.
Mission accomplished…?