Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Zanka pulls the string straps of the pouch closed, dropping it into his bag along with the top half of his mask he'd forgotten to remove.

No wonder the store clerk was giving him a weird face while he was browsing between wood polishes, he must have thought he was a thief or something.

He'd just gotten back from a cleaning with Tamsy and a few supporters, before deciding he wanted to grab a few things from the nearby town instead of going straight back to HQ. He had waved away the rest of his exhausted crew, saving them the agonizing wait while he debated between the brass or iron casing.

Today's cleaning was tiresome, but not hard. They dealt with an insect-like trash-beast infestation that had them chasing tiny bugs around till the late afternoon. It would have gone on later if Tamsy hadn't been there. He's ashamed to admit it, but Tamsy carried the whole mission and facilitated all of Zanka's own advances.

Trying to swat flies with the small of Assistaff, was its own type of torture he's glad is over with. He's not in the clearing yet, his body is still due both the cost of his polish and an hour walk back to his bed. He could be more annoyed but, he's running low on supplies and would rather sacrifice time now then later. Plus, stretching his legs out after a mission always helps him fall asleep better.

He nods to the store clerk, whose face looks relieved after seeing him take off his mask, and leaves the shop.

In that short period of time, the sun already starts to dance above the horizon coloring the sky with deep hues that were a telling sign night was coming. He doesn't like being out when the moon and dully lit lamps were the only sources of light. It just screams sketchy in a way that doesn't entice Zanka after a long day. All he wants to do is take a hot bath, eat something warm, and go to bed to do it all again tomorrow.

For now, Zanka solves the food problem by buying a cup of cheese fries at a nearby stand and slathering them in ketchup and that addicting green sauce they make.

What? Sure he could eat at headquarters, but he's hungry now and it's cheap, sue him.

He finds a well lit alleyway and leans against the wall slowly blowing on the fries as he starts by tasting it with his nose, and when it cools down, his mouth. He shovels them down his throat six fries at a time like the food would run away if he doesn't inhale it on the spot. His mouthfuls are intense, but balanced in making sure every bite has a little bit of the cheese and jalapenos, while catching it in his mouth so none of it falls to the ground.

Maybe that's why he mistakes the shallow breathing he feels against his neck, as wind flowing into the alleyway. That is until, a hand pops out and waves cheekily in his face. Zanka almost spits out his fries reaching over to Assistaff with inhuman speeds, activating her, and aiming at the figure.

He doesn't need to guess who it is, not when the hand—that was only inches away from his face by the way—is adorned in silver rings that glint in the cold glow of the nearby street lamp, and long chipped charcoal black nails.

His grip tightens around the metal as Jabber stumbles into the light and stomps on the fries he had dropped on the ground.

They squelch under his shoe and he pauses, "did I scare ya' bad enough you dropped your fries? That's my bad." The golden beads in his hair clatter as he steps off the cardboard bowl and picks up the squashed fries, presenting them like an offering. "Here you go, I only stepped on half of em'." He practically purrs.

Zanka couldn't care less about his fries right now.

…well…that's not true. His stomach is currently making soft gurgling noises as he stands, but with the darkness creeping in like a foreboding shadow, he's reminded of that blue haired giver with the manhole. At this time of night the whole crew could ambush him, and he's not sure he can take them all on if they decide to show themselves.

"What's yer' issue? Why are ya' here? And where are the other Raiders hiding?" Zanka demands as he watches his surroundings. If they really are lurking, waiting for him to slip up, he needs to let someone know where he is pronto. His hand reaches for his choker, but suddenly Jabber speaks up.

"Other Raiders? Oh—nah it's just me, the Raiders don't know where I am right now." He steps closer and Zanka fights the urge to step back. "I came here looking for one of you."

"One of us? The cleaners?" Zanka echoes.

"Bingo."

Zanka studies every expression Jabber was making. His eyes haven't left his face since he had shown up. He's watching every slight falter in his smile, what his eyes linger on, and any small sign that he was communicating with someone in the shadows.

If just looking at him was enough to understand his angle, his thoughts, and what he was waiting for; he wouldn't ever look anywhere else.

"Why," Zanka asks belatedly.

And finally Jabber's expression changes for a flick, he looks annoyed. "I was curious to know if you guys are able to fix this," he points up to his head.

Zanka raises an eyebrow, "yer' brain?" his eyes narrow, "there ain't no fixin'—

"Seriously man? Either you think you're damn funny, or ya' still haven't noticed."

Zanka's eyebrows knit together, noticed what? He answers his own question by looking at where Jabber had previously pointed and double takes, then triple takes. He wants to rub his eyes to make sure he's seeing straight, but doesn't want to risk it disappearing like a trick of the light.

On the top of Jabber's head a pair of brown, fluffy, cat ears twitch and turn as Zanka continues to gawk at them. He doesn't know what he's looking at yet, a weird fashion choice? A hallucination from the green sauce on his fries, or Jabber awful spending habits in action—with how oddly realistic the ears look, Zanka assumes Jabber must have paid good money to look like this—and what the Raider does with his money is none of Zanka's concern, but maybe investing in an accountant would be useful, he's just saying.

Zanka studies him further and Jabber sensing Zanka's gaze, steps forward as if to give him a better view. Zanka doesn't appreciate the gesture much, but when the thin lines of the whiskers around his cheek and nose become visible and the double shadow he kept mistaking as just his shawl was a tail, he can't help but take a step closer himself.

"Oh—shit, what the hell are ya' wearin'?" Zanka's judgment comes out unabashed.

Jabber sneers—or growls?—and pulls his lips deeper into a creepy smile, "I'm not wearing them, this ain't a fashion choice man, it's real."

"It's real ridiculous, I'd refund if I were you."

Jabber bristles, his fingers jerk, Mankira catches light, but his arms still are resting at his sides, "Zanka, buddy, are you acting dense on purpose? it's not a good look on you imma be honest. When I say real I mean it, and when I say I need your guys to change me back, I also mean that."

Zanka's not a stupid guy, far from it thank you very much, but what help could this guy be asking for? And what does his new look have to do with it. it's more likely this is some big ploy to get their hands on Rudo, or the watchman series, another convoluted trap that Zanka was getting caught in the middle of.

Zanka holds Assistaff aimed to Jabber face, so deep in concentration, "keep talkin' in riddles Jabber, I'm not gonna get swept up into some half-backed attempt to kidnap the snot nosed brat."

His jaw tightens and in turn his smile widens, "never liked repeating myself Zanka, especially when I've been telling this same old story for days tryna find someone who could fix whatever that concoction did to me, yeah? So answer the damn question, are you guys civil, and willing to help, or not?" And Jabber's creepy smile gets toothy, sharp teeth stick out over his lip.

Zanka's just as pissed, his fries trampled and his time slipping between his fingers, "I could say the same, proudly spouting bullshit ain't gonna get ya' help from me or any of the cleaners, stop with the excessive—"

Zanka's sentence is cut off by glowing claws swarming his vision and sending him backwards with a powerful slash. Zanka digs his feet into the ground and skids across the concrete. He gets not a moment to readjust when he is assaulted by continuous attacks from Jabber. He can't stop pivoting, dodging, and weaving. Not while every movement Jabber makes is haphazard and vicious—even more than usual.

"I knew you'd say that man, it was sooo obvious. That's why I'm switching to plan B to help make you feel more willing to lend a hand."

Jabber keeps coming at him with that same speed and power and Zanka keeps defending against Jabber's never ending parade of slashes that force him deeper into the darkness of the alleyway. Zanka knows at some point he's gonna hit the back wall, but the narrow space makes breaking past with any big attacks impossible.

His arms start to feel heavy when he blocks a jab aimed for his side and kick threatening to lodge into his shin. The exhaustion of the day is like an anchor elected off a hawsepipe. It slowly descends deeper into shallow waters, hooks and drags through rock and mud, and takes the edge off all his movements.

He doesn't need any reminders, but he wasn't able to take him on a good day. At his wits end, and fatigue learning the muscles in his body, he needs to end the battle before he completely gives out.

He extends Assistaff's spikes in all directions and almost skewers Jabber's thigh, but he jumps out of the way with a momentary look of genuine shock on his face. Assistaff lodges into the walls and Zanka steps off her, spinning into a sweeping kick straight into Jabber's jaw. It lands, hard. Zanka can feel flesh tear against his shoe, but it doesn't end there when the force catapults Jabber into the other wall and he rag-dolls against it.

Zanka releases Assistaff's spikes, gutting her out from the walls to instead hold her against Jabber's neck like a cast.

"Drop the act and get the hell up!"

He doesn't shift or seem to respond at all, but Zanka knows better than to believe he's down for the count. The last time Jabber was backed into a corner he…

The realization hits him but he's too late. Jabber's claws glow and his second form shoots out. The giant claws nail into the wall one by one around his head until Jabber practically boxes him into a cage. His smaller set of claws comes at him and he uses Assistaff like a shield to hold him off. Their weapons scream with tension, and the high pitch squeals from metal on metal make Zanka cringe.

Jabber laughs start up again, his eyes wide like saucers, his chest heaving, and his body desperate to learn the weight of Zanka's anger.

Zanka's knuckles go white around his staff, his tongue licks over his lips, and he wishes he could deny it, but he's just as desperate to teach Jabber's body the lines of his violence. The urge is so raw he can't dismiss it as just the heat of the battle, not when there's clarity in the sparks of metal that flash between them, and it feeds him in a way nothing else has.

He pushes back with more strength and feels Jabber crumble under his weight. He's close enough that every expression, every breath, everything is under Zanka's gaze. He can see the shaft of his ears, where his hair fades into them, and can't find a band or obvious place of attachment.

He can smell the day on Jabber's breath, the ketchup hiding under his nails, and the desperation when Jabber strains under him, his pupils—with vertical slits in them—dilating.

Seeing it with his own eyes like this he feels like he can't reduce Jabber's words to gibberish so easily, can't dismiss Jabber as the crazy psychopath that he sounds like, can't do anything he should. He doesn't get a chance to further debate any nuance, when Jabber redirects Zanka's attack and sends him toppling forwards.

He retracts his larger claws and moves with agility that surpasses everything he's ever seen from the man before. He moves so fast that in the millisecond Zanka fails to raise Assistaff, Jabber's claws cut a small slit onto the skin of his arm. It's so tiny and wouldn't have been an issue if it was just that, a cut, but there's poison laced in every one of Jabber biting attacks. The fast acting type, that renders Zanka one last furious retort, before clutching his shoulder and folding into the ground.

His staff reverts back to wood and clatters onto the stone, rolling where he can't see it. His body tries to move for it but he stays frozen, crumbling against the wall.

"Yup! That how it starts, hits you so quick, you don't get the chance to grab a blankie and snacks before you tuck yourself in." He sneers, watching the last of Zanka's twitches before he completely stills.

Jabber leans his back against the wall next to Zanka, and sits with him in pensive silence, "you're getting used to the numb feeling right?"

Zanka's not listening, his focus is on willing every bone in his body to move, to find his staff, and cave his head in so viciously his brain matter stains his uniform permanently. a harsh laugh cuts through the thoughts. Jabber tilts over him with a knowing smile like he can see the intensity in Zanka's blank expression, "save that fire for later man, cause it's about to get real spicy."

Like on cue, the wound starts to feel warm, It's a subtle heat that pervades his body in waves. His fingers and feet tingle and buzz before becoming so numbingly hot he feels like he's being burnt alive.

"This was where I really started to like it, I was thinking up all the different components I could mix together to bring the heat to a devilish level," he scoots closer, his hair creates a curtain over them, his lips form a thin line, and his eyes get an unnerving look in them. "Then it starts doing something completely different. It starts to feel less like it's burning and more like the muscles in my body are being stretched out. Hurts like a bitch, s'like my limbs were being torn off."

Zanka tries to keep his composure, but the intense straining on his muscles and tendons feel like they are twisting in all the wrong directions, it's agonizing. He could tell he was involuntarily twitching and kicking even though he couldn't feel it. Every movement follows with warps in his vision and tear drops slipping from his eyes.

Jabber's voice is low, gravely, and sounds fair away when he speaks again, "When you think its at its worst, it does something even more torturous, that even made me starts begging man—really begging, for it to stop. I could only describe it like my claws scraping down every layer of my skin, from my dermis to the deep viscera of my body. Layer by layer tearing muscle and bone, slowing near every organ to drawing jagged lines across em'."

Zanka was convulsing. The pain had been too much since the burning, and now that he was being chewed up and spit out, he couldn't mentally keep up. The bright lights dim with his spotty vision, and he detaches from the pain like he was flowing away.

"Don't pass out on me now, if you really don't want to help me you should keep awake if you can, shit won't be the same when you wake up." Jabber cackles over his body, throwing his head around in wild circles only to abruptly stop, his dreads spilling over his face, to look down at him blankly, bored. He stands up slowly and walks away.

Zanka feels the moment his brain stops like an over-exhausted vehicle; the moment the pain takes on new level of torture and his eyes can't produce anymore tears, it all goes black.

—

Zanka had woken up ages ago yet his body is still so numb and disoriented, he can't move a muscle, but he's alive. The dimly flickering street lamp in his peripheral, and smell of rot and trash tells him as much. He still can't wrap his mind around how, between Jabber Wonger's piercing claws, and a poison so debilitating he doesn't think he'll ever walk again, he still lives to see another day.

His relief is short lived.

The sound of footsteps catches Zanka's ear. Not because it's the first he's heard in a while—no, the streets were just as bustling in the night as they were in the day—it's that every step is inching deeper into the alleyway he is in.

His body is completely defenseless and he still couldn't move an inch. He tenses and tries lifting something—anything—so whoever was out there wouldn't finish the job. With some effort he moves his fingers off the ground and lifts his hand up momentarily only for it to cramp and drop. He strains out a groan at the backlash he receives.

"Who's there?" The footsteps are closer and the voice seems to bounce off the walls, "if yer' tryna rob me store ya' got another ting comin' yeah?"

Zanka pauses, the accent sounds familiar but Zanka doesn't know if it is in a good or bad way. The footsteps stop right in front of him and he hears the voice take a sharp breath of panic.

"Bloody hell! Who are ya' slumped over? Are ya' dead? Say something!"

Zanka opens his eyes wider to see who the man is, he has a shiny bald head, thick mustache, and accent from the North, it all clicks. It's the store clerk he bought the polish from. He clears his throat enough to say something.

"I-i…i'm alive." Is all Zanka can muster, the man flinches back and seems to think better of talking to a strange man in an alleyway, when his eyes narrow in recognition.

"Ohh! Yer' ta' Cleaner that was in me store!" The man moves his lantern closer to Zanka's face and the light blinds him momentarily, before the store clerk sets it down and grabs his arm and throws it over his shoulder. "Let's get ya' outta here yeah!"

Zanka leans into the man, he's short and plump but can hold up half of Zanka's weight. Zanka steadys himself and manages to stand. Whatever poison was pervading his body had finally settling down and he was able to balance against the man.

"Thanks, could ya' also grab my staff?" Zanka forces the words out.

The store clerk moves his lantern around the alleyway and stops over his staff. "Ta' stick?"

Zanka sighs. "Yeah."

The man gives him a confused look, but grips it between his fingers anyways.

The walk to the shop is short, it's a block around the corner, and he makes it through the door without falling over completely when the man lets him go to fiddle with the lock.

A chair is pulled, warm lights are turned on, and Zanka can feel the exhaustion settle back into his body as the numbness goes away completely.

The man goes into the kitchen space behind the counter and comes back with a warm cup of tea and offers it, Zanka refuses not wanting anything else entering his system for the night, still the man sets it on the table in front of him.

The shop looks different at night, the blinds were pulled back and the light glows even warmer. The shelves of tools, equipment, and sealants now make to comfort Zanka.

The clerk finally takes a seat in front of him and holds his hat to his chest. "Ya' really scared me kid, ya' had me thinkin' I was gonna get robbed."

Zanka dips his head forwards, "sorry sir."

"What were ya' doin' in there anyway, and why'd ya' got that new look goin' on."

Zanka can only guess he looks way worse for wear then when he left the shop, he turns his head and clears his throat a bit self-conscious. "I got into a scuffle with some street mutt—erk—more like a feline? I have already been back at headquarters by now, but it looks like he held me up for a while." Zanka notices the clock across from him, he got dropped off at nine and now it was a little past ten, Jabber had him out for a whole hour.

"Yeah? The cats around here can be pretty scrappy, leave any goods out and they snatch um' up, but uhhh…I'm more talking about the ears, ya' didn't have them earlier."

Zanka looks back, "what are ya' on about?"

He reaches his hands to feel over his ears, and follows down his lobes to the fabric of his tassels. "They feel normal."

"Are ya' messin' with me kid?"

Zanka can't help the way his eye twitches at being called a kid so freely, still he keeps his tone respectful as he replies. "No, I don't know what yer' talking about sir, I was wearing these tassels earlier as well, I never take em' off."

"I'm not talking' bout those ears kid, I'm talking bout the ones on yer' head!" And the man is just as aggravated as he is.

"Thing on my head?—thing on my—what are ya' even talkin' about? And stop callin' me a kid, I'm not a child—"

In his outburst, he frantically rubs his ears to show there is nothing there and moves to his head to prove the same, when he feels something soft and knows immediately it is not his hair. The moment he makes contact with them it's like he can finally feel them. The numbness goes away and he's hyper aware he's grown another limb.

He stills completely and the man in front of him does the same, taken aback by his panicked reaction, he stands up and circles behind his chair to create distance like Zanka was some rabid animal. "yeah, what's up with those?"

Zanka doesn't reply, he's too busy freaking out. He's overthinking everything that happened in the last hour: Jabber showing up asking for the Cleaners help, poisoning him and just walking away afterwards instead of gutting him; and worse of all, the poison that seemed to tear him to pieces and stitch him back together.

Something clicks, was the poison what changed him—changed Jabber into a cat?

"D-d'you have a mirrors I could borrow?" Zanka hopes he doesn't sound as angry as he feels, he doesn't want to scare the man further.

"Y-you better calm down kid," Zanka tries to pull his lips into a smile and when he does the man flinches, "you tryna threaten me, I don't care how sharp yer' teeth are I'm not gonna let ya' maim me!"

Usually that works, "uh, that's not my intention," internally he uses his tongue to feel over his canines and finds they are way sharper than before. "Somethin' happened in that alley, a giver. I just need to see what the damage is, so please, the mirror, just for a moment?"

The man's eyebrows furrow but he deflates seeming to sympathize with Zanka enough, he nods and rushes away, coming back with a handheld mirror.

Zanka grabs it nods in thanks then flips the mirrors around and he drops it. The store clerk reaches out to catch it and yelps, "I knew you'd do that! My wife woulda killed me—"

Zanka grabs the mirrors back and stares at the cat ears that dare sit on his head like they aren't the most offensive things ever. So all that yap about the ears being real wasn't some convoluted lie after all? And because he didn't believe such an outrageous claim he turned him into one?! Bullshit.

Wait, does that also mean—he turns to look behind himself and yup, he grabs his tail and almost yelps at the shuddering sensation that travels through him.

Both the ears and tail were a dark brown and seamlessly blended into his hair like just another part of his body, pulling on his tail felt like pulling on his arm, and that subtle signal of discomfort being sent to his brain.

"This can't be happenin', how am I supposed to show my face at HQ?"

"Well ya' best figure that out, ya' overstayed—and almost broke me mirror!" The man's hand dramatically points to the door from safely behind his chair. "Get out."

Zanka tries not to feel offended but, the guy looks at him like he's crazy—and he just met crazy. He relents, twisting over to grab Assistaff off the coffee table, the man watches his every movement with baited breaths and bright eyes, like he wants him to try something. Zanka stands, curtly nods to the clerk, and turns away.

His back is straight, tall, and composed. It's his last effort to save face before he leaves, he steps forward and his whole facade falls apart—including himself. He stumbles over his own foot and face palm onto the ground with a loud thump and equally embarrassingly cat-like screech.

"Great Mother Theresa, don't tell me ya' can't walk."

"I can walk, I never said I couldn't walk." He tries again, he gets to his feet and takes another step, his foot makes solid contact with the ground and he goes for another, but it doesn't land well and he tumbles down with another screech.

"Goodness gracious, I'll lend ya' a ride back to the Cleaners, as a thanks fer…yer' service, I guess."

Zanka peels his cheek off the tiles, "ya' don't have to," the clerk makes a face, " but I appreciate it."

Zanka is surprised by his kindness, especially when gas is a hard thing to come by, and unreasonably expensive, when he sees the vehicle the man pulls up with his smile drops and his ears follow.

"She's a beaut, ain't she? ole Marcy, a moped I spent me savings on as a youth. Ten years later she still treks hills like a beast." It is a small teal moped with one of those small side seats attached. His eyes glow orange when he turns his key, and before Zanka can refuse, he waves him over.

He chuckles dryly to himself, so he's paying with his dignity then.

—

Zanka bows to the man as he drives away, he was relieved to be out of the cramped seat and back onto his feet. It was a short 20 minute ride that gave him enough time to shake off the lingering numbness to the point the hunger in his stomach is back, still gurgling, just louder now.

Zanka sees the gates of HQ in the distance and stops before getting any closer. He pulls out the cloth he haggled the clerk for and regards it.

The cloth is raggedy and a pale pink, he feels should have nothing to do with him, he ignores his initial reaction to dispose of it, and wraps it over his ears, fixing it with a bow. For his tail he slips it into the pant of his leg and calls it a day.

It was wildly uncomfortable, but he'd rather hide the fact he had been drugged and quietly fix it himself, he was never the type to dump his shit onto others, no matter how loudly Enjin preached that's not what getting help from your team is called.

He walks up to HQ and crosses his finger that he wouldn't bump into anyone on his way to his room, but he is completely let down when he slips past the door and Semiu is behind the desk were he expects her; a pen between her lips and her finger lazily flipping through a mag until she looks up at him.

"Welcome back Zanka, Tamsy let me know you were out grabbing supplies, seems like you got a little side tracked." She taps the pen on the antique clock on her desk showing it is way past the time he was supposed to get back.

Zanka fully enters the room and leans against the door to close it, "yeah, I wasn't able ta' keep track of the time." (Being drugged in an alleyway does that.)

"Really? Too busy finding the perfect headscarf?"

Zanka chuckles dryly, letting the lie form itself. "Something like that, it was pretty chilly out tonight so I put it on. Not really my style though." Semiu huffs a laugh."I'm gonna turn in for the night, I'm beat."

"You sure? I asked the kitchen to leave out a dinner for you."

He appreciates the effort but he can't stomach anything despite how hungry he is. "Nah, I'm fine, thanks anyway, i'll let em' know ta' pack it away."

She nods and waves him away, Zanka turns to leave, silently celebrating his victory when she speaks up again before he can make it into the hall.

"Wait, Zanka," he pauses in his stride and turns back to her. She has her eyebrows scrunching together and lip upturned. "The hell is that sticking out from your ass."

"What?" He must've landed on shit or something real nasty for Semiu to be making such a concerned face? He turns, shifting his pants to see what she's talking about, and instead of a shit stain—thank god—he sees a tent forming out of his pants—oh fuck—he chokes on spit. Throughout their conversation he must've unintentionally adjusted his tail out of its position. He slams down a palm, and straightens it back to normal.

"Oh, that's...nothin'."

She deadpans, completely shutting her mag, "I beg to differ, looks like you're tryna smuggle something into the building?" She says it in a light tone, but Zanka can't help but bristle at how quickly she was able to tell he was hiding something.

A complete denial was off the table, so he would improvise. He takes a moment to act like his confusion was turning into recognition as he comes up with something plausible to say, "I didn't have any space left in ma' bag, so I was holdin' some extra tubin' for my gas mask in my waistband, it must have fumbled around to look weird, yeah?" He scratches the back of his head like he's embarrassed and peeks out his eye to see if she's convinced.

Her expression looks unchanged, "Zanka, it was moving."

Well…that'll do it.

Her mood shifts to something serious when she leans back waiting for another explanation that never comes, cause Zanka can't come up with something reasonable to say. She scoffs and activates her glasses with an expression that reads like Zanka, come on, you're the honest one.

Her glasses glow and her eyes turn to him like piercing daggers, when she locks on him she visibly recoils and shoots to her feet.

"Boy! That don't look like nothing, what really happened out there?!" She releases her power, squeezing the bridge of her nose, "something in you has completely twisted the structure of your soul. And it's still permeating through your body."

He's a little shocked at how accurate her description is, but keeps his composure and responds.

"It ain't as bad as it looks, I've got it under control." Whatever that means.

Semiu opens her mouth to chew him out—he's sure of it—but she's cut off by a tearing sound and pale pink cloth falling over Zanka's face to the ground.

The cloth seems to disintegrate before it touches the ground, like some a final jab at Zanka for thinking it could hold anything but thoughts and prayers together.

Zanka's eyes snap to Semiu's wide ones and he makes a trill-like sound—he doesn't wanna talk about—and quickly flattens his ears down with his hands.

Semiu uses her glasses again and holds a hand over her mouth muttering a breathy,"—They're real."

The cat is completely out of the bag—literally—and Zanka hates how he managed to delude himself into thinking he could get this past Semiu of all people. Noticing things is her whole bit, it's why she's their one and only receptionist.

"You weren't planning on hiding something as extreme as this were you?"

She has one hand on her hip and the other wielding a pencil, cause pointing a finger at him wasn't enough, "I made this mess so it only makes sense I fix it."

"This is way out of your hands—even out of mine. I'm not a doctor but I can see this is not an issue that can be fixed by going off on your own to find someone to beat a solution out of."

He wants to argue back, but his plan was to hunt Jabber down first things in the morning for answers, sooo.

"Then the thing in your pants is..."

Zanka grits his teeth and silently loops a finger under his tail and pulls it out of its hold, It curls around and twitches.

"I see." She sighs and connects to her choker, "boss, we got something we need you and Eishia to take a look at, meet us in the infirmary."

—

Somehow in the chaos of making it to the infirmary, two supporters give him weird faces, Enjin manages to join their meeting, and he's 99.9 percent sure Riyo was listening outside the door.

"So the Raider—Jabber, cornered you in town, injected you with a poison, and when you woke up, said poison morphed you into some kind of…cat hybrid." Corvus stands in the corner leaning against the cabinet, his fingers tapping methodically against the wood.

Zanka nods back, slightly mortified while Corvus phrases the events in such professional words, when it could be more simply summarized as: Jabber jumped him, beat his ass, and drugged him.

"A poison with the ability to change a person's physical form this dramatically is unheard of."

"Agreed." Semiu pushes her glasses up her nose when she observes him, "it makes sense why I can't get a straight read on him, he's completely out of wack."

Enjin is silently looking between them with his chin resting on Umbreaker and his face expressing either how strenuous absorbing this information is for his brain or the breaking point of someone who's been holding in a big shit since the morning.

"Can't believe the Raiders got their hands on something so dangerous, what kind of experiments has Zodyl been planning…" He sits up a little taller and gestures his matchbox in Corvus's direction. "My mind goes to one place, what he's hoping to figure out. He's so intent on learning without being thrown into the fire himself, what if he's testing if it's temporary or permanent?"

Zanka sucks in a breath, it can't be permanent. Not just because he can't look this fucking ridiculous for the rest of his life, but he feels far to different. More weaker, hollower, lighter. The structure of his body had changed, his chemical makeup scrambled in all the wrong directions. If he is forced to adapt to such an unnatural form would he still be able to pursue strength or would that change as well? Even now the way he holds Assistaff now is awkward, his nails way too long and sharp to grip her in anything but a loose hold.

He lets out a breath and despite himself it comes out like a pitiful meow.

It was quiet—he's sure—but it travels farther across the room than what should be possible and Zanka wishes he could take it back. Enjin audibly bites back a snort and even Semiu's face seems way too perfectly neutral. (He's not gonna look at the bosses expression it's not worth it.)

"Zanka," Enjin clears his throat and fixes his face into something genuine, "don't get hopeless already, I was just throwing out a slim possibility. Fact is, we're gonna fix this in no time."

His reassurance soothes some of his nerves, "yeah, how?"

Naturally, the rooms attention shifts to Eishia, she flinches back at the sudden eyes on her and hurriedly reaches for a clipboard.

"His readings are normal, slight muscle cramps and growing pains, but there isn't anything imminently wrong. In terms of healing," she sets down the clipboard and fiddles with her fingers, "there isn't anything my skills can do to change him back. I can't even safely ease his muscle pains with how much the structure of Zanka's body has changed. I-i'm of no use here."

She folds her thumb over the other and presses into it, like the very action was holding her together. Even now Eishia doubts her skills, if Zanka told her she was the very back bones of the Cleaners, she would frantically deny it, sputter humble excuses as to how she managed to saving so many lives—including his own—was the result of someone else hard work.

Zanka stood by the notion that credit is due where it is earned, no expectations.

"Eishia, you have and continue to do more than enough, as the boss said, somethin' like this is unheard of." Zanka curls the blanket into his fist, "keep doing what ya' can and we'll fill in the rest. I'm not as brazen enough to just sit here and expect someone else to fix everythin' fer me."

Enjin nods, and pats a hand on her shoulder, "He's right, we didn't call you here to figure everything out alone, for now just watching his vitals and getting your input is what we need."

Eishia releases the pressure between her fingers and runs her hand up her arm to rest there. Her downcast expression turns up and though she looks unconvinced she also seems rejuvenated, "you're right, i'll do my best, and thank you for the support."

"Thank you Eishia, your support is crucial and we'll continue to rely on you." Corvus sends her a warm smile.

Eishia finds her own soon enough.

Semiu watches the transaction with a grin, "well said, to that effect, we do need to seek some outside support and get our hands on the original poison." Semiu pulls out a pad and pen, "I can think of a few contacts to call up, and we should get Stilza's advice on this too," she's scribbling down note after note, "but getting a hold of the poison might prove to be difficult."

Finally, she looks up and taps her pen against her pad, Corvus who is nodding along doesn't flinch when her gaze shifts to him, "so boss how do you suppose we do that."

Corvus crosses his arms seemingly lost in thought, "that is a good question." The room waits for more, but Corvus doesn't say anything else he just hums.

Even Zanka had been thinking of an idea since earlier, didn't mean it was a good one but if they were just throwing things out there…

"…we can get the poison from Jabber's claws?" Zanka poses it like a question, unsure of the feasibility of his idea. Tracking down the Raiders was a notoriously impossible task, even the Hell Guard had tried their part in finding their main base and had failed to bring results every time.

Zanka isn't delusional enough to think it's easy. There's no way the Raiders would just show up on their front door steps to have a chat and kindly hand over the poison, but Raider activity as a whole had skyrocketed, and after their few encounters they don't seem as illusive as they once believed. Even if that turns out to be untrue, Zanka would scour every ward and crumbling ruin to find him.

"You know how rare it is to find a Raider sauntering around?"

"I know, but still I'll find him. I'll track him down myself." He's not usually this headstrong, but he has a feeling Jabber might let himself be found. "He did all this so us cleaner might feel more inclined to 'help him', I don't know what the Raiders have planned, but I'm willing to bet Jabber might be more predictable than we think."

There is contemplative silence from the room until Corvus lifts a finger, "I say we give it a try, I believe Zanka has a good point and its worth investigating." Zanka feels a bit of pride at the praise, "but, as for the team that will go on the search, Zanka will not be joining us."

"Hrk—wait, excuse me?!"

"Your condition is unstable, and we need you at headquarters if we find anything."

Zanka wants to fight back, but a voice cuts him off.

"He's right," Eishia adds, " I need to watch for changes in your condition, there's still so much we don't know about what the poison is really doing to you."

Not her too.

"They all got good points don't they!" Enjin agrees and Zanka wishes they wouldn't dog pile on him and make it impossible to refuse, even Semiu was giving him a look.

"Alright, I get it, I'm stayin' here tomorrow," he crosses his arms over his chest, "but I'm not gonna sit here bedridden, I can move and walk perfectly fine."

Corvus claps his hands together, "Of course, all we are doing is monitoring, not confining you." He turns away, "Semiu I have a person we can contact about making an antidote, meet me in my office for a quick debriefing."

"Got it."

They politely wave as they walk away, when the door opens, there is a small shriek and head of sea green hair following Guita as she falls flat on her face. A second later Riyo pops her head in with an innocent smile. Corvus chuckles and Semiu adjusts her glasses disapprovingly, but doesn't say anything as they leave.

Guita gasps as she get to her feet and points at Zanka, "you're a real life cat!"

Zanka internally cringes and his natural reaction is to hiss at her which dose less to intimidate her, and only makes her eyes widen further.

Riyo raises an eyebrow and silently observes him from across the room, he tries not to let the staring get to him, but it's hard when her beady eyes look at him so intensely.

"The hell are ya' starin' at me for, do I got somethin' on my face?" Zanka grits.

"Yeah," she chuckles, "whiskers." Riyo points as she plops down next to him.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I know I look ridiculous."

Guita sucks in a breath, "No way! You look freaking cool, cats are second best to Kaiju, so actually you've become ten times more likable Zanka!" Guita gives him a thumbs up.

Zanka looks at her incredulously, unsure if the compliment was backhanded or not.

Enjin's opinion comes free of charge, "I have to disagree, cats are thrifty. They steal my cigs if I leave them out." Enjin picks a cigarette out of his case before slipping it between his lips, Eishia gives him a look of concern.

"E-enjin, there's no smoking in the infirmary."

His eyes shoot up and he removes his cigarette from his mouth, "Right! My bad, it slipped my mind." He files it away and slides his pack back into his pocket, still fidging with his hands. Enjin smokes all the time, that's common knowledge, but the tension in his shoulders and deep thinking his eyes are doing, makes Zanka think he's more stressed then he's letting on.

"So the Raiders resident freak is the one who did this to you? Turned both you and his own self into a…furry I guess." Riyo point at him in a circle.

"Tsk, yeah, but I don't appreciate you calling me a furry." Zanka snaps.

"How does it feel to be a cat?" Guita cuts in, "Do you have an urge to play with yarn or maul a girl trying to feed you sardines in an alleyway on the streets." And Zanka acutely notices red claw marks under a bandage on the side of Guita's cheek.

"…No,"

"Hmmm," Guita hums to herself seemingly very invested in his answer.

"I've got a question too!" Riyo speaks up.

"Can ya'll hold off until tomorrow, I've answered enough cat related questions for a lifetime.

"Already? I have so much to ask though." Guita frowns, propping her elbows on the bed, squishing her face into her palms, and pouting with puppy dog eyes.

Cute, but it's not gonna work, "Save 'em' for tomorrow."

"But I have a cleaning early tomorrow."

"I'm gonna be here all day, Guita."

"But—"

Enjin stands up from his seat and chuckles, "he said it, the guys rightfully exhausted let's give him some space."

Guita looks like she's fighting every instinct in her body when she sags her shoulder, "okay, fiiine, get some rest Zanka."

"Yeah, we'll get out of your hair." Riyo hops off the bed towards the door.

Zanka pulls off the blanket and starts to stand when Eishia stops him, "Wait, can you sleep here tonight." Zanka pauses and Eishia waves her hands around, "I want to set up a monitor to watch your condition in case something changes, it'll only be once!"

Eishia's shoulders hike up and she folds her fingers together in some sort of plea it's kinda dramatic, but she knows how much Zanka hates being stuck in the infirmary. He holds back the deep sigh he wants to take and sits back, he's too tired to fight her on it, and her expression today looks unwilling to accept any other answer.

She hooks him up with quick hands and turns down the lights when she leaves. He's left in the painfully familiar darkness of the infirmary to get some sleep he doubts will be any good.

—

Zanka wakes up in the early afternoon surprisingly refreshed. It's some of the best sleep he's had in days. One, cause he's been working himself like a dog since the first time Jabber got the jump on him and sleep became a second priority to training; and he only woke up once last night from the cold, but quickly solved that problem by grabbing some blankets and pillows off the other beds—while still minding the monitor patches on his chest—snuggling under them.

He's been a back sleeper for as long as he can remember, but his body found a more comfortable position curved into a ball, in the moment he didn't care about who saw him so vulnerable, but now, fully awake he's a bit mortified at how instinctual and cat like it was, he quietly hopes he gets to keep this to himself.

He slides off the bed and stretches his arms, no longer connected to the monitor and mournfully deduces that at least one person—Eishia—saw him out of character.

He slides into his wooden geta, fixes his bed along with the others, and walks to his room. He assumes he's free to go since he woke up without a crowd of worried people and tubes coming out from every hole in his body.

He grimaces at the thought on his way to his room, the hollow sound of his geta against the floorboards, fills the empty halls and makes the trip go by faster. He finds his room, throws his door, and books it straight to his shower to burn off the previous day's grime.

He turns the heat to its highest setting and watches the spout stutter before it steadies. He steps under the shower head and when the water hits him he shrieks and almost hops out. The water is scalding and every instinct in him rejects the idea of getting wet. He ignores the feeling, reaching his arms and shoulder under the water cautiously, until he gets used to it and starts washing his hair. He's forced to address the issue of making sure he doesn't get soap into his second pair of ears.

The process is slow and tedious, once he's done his arms ache from being up for so long, officially turning his bath into a chore. When he's done he folds his towel around his waist and stands over the sink to brush his teeth.

He stares at his reflection in the mirror, taking a good look at what he couldn't before. His ears are a deep brown the same as his natural hair color and a soft pink on the inside. They don't hurt when he bends them or tugs on them they just tickle a little. His pupils are thin and his whiskers are translucent enough that he can tell how Semiu didn't notice them in the dark of the receptionist room.

His tail's the same, only it gradients to a paler shade the closer it retreats to his lower back. He could move it at will, but when he's not thinking too hard, it moves like it has a mind of its own.

His nails are the most infuriating part, they are long and sharp and promise to nip Assistaff if he grips her wrong while untransformed. He could try clipping them, but he'd have to find fucking sheers to cut these bad boys.

He finishes brushing his teeth and dressing, before heading downstairs to the mess hall. This late in the morning breakfast has mostly vanished, and if he's lucky, they've already started lunch. If not he'd eat an apple or something.

When he gets to the hall, Riyo's leaning over a table to talk to Rudo who has two pieces of tissue in his nose that keep falling over his mouth forcing him to blow them out of the way.

Zanka tries to walk in silently, keen on ignoring them to go straight for his breakfast, but Riyo spots him and waves him over with her fork. Ignoring her never works once she's found him.

Riyo greets him. "Morning Zan-zan."

He pulls open a chair and falls into it, "that nickname ain't stickin'."

"keep denying it Zan-zan, but your aesthetic today is not helping your case."

"His nickname is Zan-zan?" Rudo's still focusing on blowing the tissue out of his face when he speaks, "a name that cute doesn't fit him at all."

"Yeah well I ain't ask her to call me that," Zanka crosses his arms, still watching Rudo attempt and fail at not eating tissue, "yer' being disgusting right now with those things in your nose."

"Screw you, my nose is still runny from when I was sick—" He finally looks up at Zanka and flinches backwards, his jaw falling open. "Geez, what the?—they weren't lying?"

Riyo leans farther over the table, "told you! When have I ever lied to you?"

Rudo doesn't need to think about it, "When you and Zanka told me people on the ground give thanks by hitting forks together over everyone's plates"

"You still remember that? We didn't think you'd actually do it. I mean it sounds freaking ridiculous." Zanka and Riyo both snicker and Rudo scoffs.

"Whatever! So when you and Guita told me Zanka turned into a cat, I thought you guys were messing with me again but…here he is, that is real right?"

Zanka finally let his eyes roll, so this is how Jabber felt when he kept asking him if it was real or not.

"Why the hell would I look like this otherwise?" His ears twitch in anger.

Rudo recoils again.

"It literally moves with him," he makes a queasy face, "it's kinda freaky."

"Rudo you have rolled up tissue sticking out yer' nose you look freaky."

Rudo bares his teeth, lifts both of his hands off the table, and shoves two middle fingers into Zanka's face.

Zanka doesn't miss a beat and sends back two of his own.

Rudo makes a mean ass face and Zanka's not sure if their gonna square up right here, right now, but before they can decide, the doors to the mess hall get thrown open and Enjin runs in out of breath, scanning the room frantically.

The three of them share a curious glance when his eyes finally land on Zanka and he skips over.

"Zanka, whew… I found you."

Zanka scoots his chair back, "what's goin' on? Why'd ya' run all the way over here, you could have used yer' choker?"

Enjin swallows a bunch of air and hits his chest a few times, muttering to himself about needing to stop smoking so damn much.

Everyone at the table hears him and silently agrees there was no way that was happening.

"I was close enough, anyway, we need you at the front desk, seems like you were on the nose with your hunch yesterday, but we didn't expect him to come to the front door."

Zanka's lost, what hunch and who came to the front door—then he realizes what he means, immediately shooting out of his seat.

"Whoa." Riyo looks up to him with a mouthful of strawberries, he doesn't spare a second to explain and just climbs out of his seat to follow Enjin, no way he came all the way to headquarters, no way it really was that easy.

When they arrive, Semiu's behind the desk with her hand holding her wrinkling forehead, and Corvus is next to her with just as intense of an expression on his face.

"I brought him." Enjin's voice steals their attention away from what they are looking at.

Semiu waves them over, clicking through images on her screen with the arrow keys, "seems like you were right on the money, Jabber is currently making a scene right outside our doors." Semiu points to the familiar figure, It's Jabber pressing against Shikage invisible boundary with little success in getting through.

"He seriously showed up her—"

Zanka is cut off by a piercing voice that inspires every fight or flight instinct in his body.

"Oh, come on! I know you're there!" He's achingly loud to the point the sound waves of his voice feel like they're physically hitting him. "I know Zanka looks a little different, doesn't he? Let me see what you guys have done with ma' work!"

"He's fucking crazy." Zanka breaths the words.

"Indeed," Corvus agrees, "I first assumed this was a plot curated by the Raiders leader, Zodyl Typhoon. But after seeing it myself, I doubt that man would plan something so…direct.

"You think he's come here alone?" Semiu asks.

Corvus nods.

She huffs. "Doesn't matter whose idea this was, all I know is that it's my job to get him off the property." She stands up, activating her glasses, but Corvus stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Not just yet, that's why I wanted to call Zanka over," he finally answers the question Zanka's been wondering since he got here. "I want to know what Jabber's intentions are, and why he's come so soon to check on you."

"So I'm here to get him to talk?"

Corvus musses over the phrasing, "something like that, we'll see how much of your new development was his fault, while within the barrier and out of his reach."

Enjin raises a hand, a sneer and cigarette sung between his lips, "yeah, but why even talk to the guy. Is it even possible to have a normal conversation with him?"

Zanka hums in agreement, then double takes, the guy who was just seconds ago advising himself against smoking, now has a cigarette burning.

"Zodyl's team members are more intelligent than the average bandit, to have a team as small as theirs multitalented frontmen only makes sense. Most importantly he's made himself easy to find, we were bound to converse with him one way or another, I suppose he's saved us the resources." Corvus counts his reasons with his fingers, Enjin nods his head along in agreement.

"I for one don't mind givin' the scuzzball a piece of my mind." Zanka walks up to the door and Enjin steps in front of him.

"You know we are not trying to start a fight, yeah?"

"…I know." He hopes he doesn't sound like he's lying, because he is.

Enjin chuckles and blows out smoke, "then go get em'."

Zanka swings the doors open, white, afternoon sun stuns him with its rays of light. He furrows his brows, momentarily frozen before the light filters away, and Jabber comes into view.

The Raider has his fist coming down on the barrier and his smile in a mingle of anger and surprise.

Their eyes keep contact for a long second, it breaks when Jabber guides them to Zanka's head. He pauses there for a long moment, then his eyes drop to Zanka's tail that's swaying behind him.

Somehow in one swift motion Jabber's eyes lick over every inch of Zanka's body, leaving a nasty feeling in his gut, and a heat he wishes was anger. Jabber's eyes purposely study his face again, his hand cups over his mouth, and he immediately bursts out laughing.

He's resting his forearm against the barrier, throwing his head back, and shaking like his body can't handle his joy. Zanka can only look down at him with contempt and a strong urge to plug up his scratchy laughter with his staff. Instead he grits his teeth and forces out a semblance of words that don't start or end with fuck you dickhead.

"You got a reason you've shown up at our doorstep?"

Jabber doubles over harder at his words and holds a finger up, to ask for a moment to unload the laughter from his stomach, like Zanka wasn't running on company time. Finally, his giggles subside enough to answer, "Is it not obvious? I wanted to see if what I gave ya' really worked, and it did, seeing as you've sprouted some ears of your own," Jabber reaches over to what?—verify them—but is stopped by the barrier before he can get any closer, "what's this all about, I can't come in and talk?"

"That's not gonna be possible," Enjin interjects and steps out behind Zanka his umbrella precariously placed on his shoulder, "you can talk from out there."

"Damn, the cleaners don't have an ounce of hospitality?" Jabber presses closer to Enjin's challenge.

"We don't take uninvited guests."

He laughs again, crudely, "can't bend the rules a little for me? After all I'm sure you guys are looking for a solution to your buddies freak accident, and a great place to start would be talkin' to the guy who envenomed him, right?"

Zanka growls, he can't help it. The guy's smirking and giggling like he has them dancing in the palm of his hand.

"Ya' think you've got this all figured out, huh? Keep bankin' on us needing shit from you Jabber. Ya' screwed yourself over when ya' flew to close to the sun and now ya' need someone else to fix what fucked up thing you found when ya' landed in the muck."

He scoffs, leans in closer with a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes, not like when he's in a fight. "Man, shit happens. I never cared for caution when trying out a poison, it's the risk of the business. If my—fuck-up," he says that with air quotes, "keeps me like this for the rest of my life, I'll just carry the consequences of my greed. You though, I don't think you could do that, someone that irritable couldn't stand being fucked over by a Raider, so what I was really banking on was you bitching to your friends for hel—"

Zanka's fist rams into Jabber's cheek, his head rocks to the side, and he stays like that as he wobbles backwards. When he turns, a hiccup of giggles buzz in his throat and his fingers feel over his now split lip, "ohh, struck a nerve?"

"Zanka." Enjin calls to him, but Zanka can't look, he just breathes out the anger and steps back.

"He ain't worth it, we can find some other way to—"

"Does that mean you'll turn down a conversation in my office?" Corvus steps closer to the door and looks over Jabber with a blank expression.

Zanka snaps his head towards him, Enjin almost chokes on his cig, and even Semiu raises an eye at him, for once genuinely confused.

Jabber's eyebrows shoot up and he looks up at the boss biting his lip. "Arkha Corvus, the boss of the cleaners in the flesh. Man, the boss is gonna be so jealous when he finds out I got to have a chat with you. I wonder what reward I could haggle for this!" Jabber's eyes drift off into the distance, his finger tapping on the slit in his lip. He pulls on it, digs his nails into the cut till it splits deeper, and hisses when it starts to bleed again.

"You'll temporarily be allowed to enter the building to have a discussion under one condition." Corvus holds his hand out to Semiu and mutters, "the cuffs."

Semiu hesitates for another second and moves behind the desk to unlock a drawer and grab two iron cuffs and a key, "Are you sure about this boss."

He doesn't respond verbally, he just gives her a look that Semiu alone deciphersm handing him the cuffs.

"These are anti-amina cuffs, with these on you can't activate your Jinki."

Jabber purchases a glance, "last I checked it's illegal to carry those if you're not Hell Guard," he tongues over his bloody lip, "don't tell me Zanka over there nabbed those for you on his way out?"

"…"

The hell did he just say?

Corvus decidedly ignores the last bit of jabber sentence, "In normal circumstance that would be the case, but the cleaners were given clearance under certain conditions to own a pair; they only work inside the building and disable once outside. If you can't wear these we have no reason to further entertain you."

Jabber takes it in, turns over his words like he was really considering it. As if Jabber, a crazy masochistic psychopath could go two seconds without his blades feeling for blood or pain etching itself into every cavity of his body. It would be like locking himself in a pillow box and being expected to sit there denied both pain and violence. There is no way in hell the guy—

"Ok, fine." He holds his wrists out, "cuff me big guy."

—

Something deep twists in Zanka's gut at seeing Jabber walking through headquarters—albeit with cuffs on.

Honestly, those things don't do much to make Jabber less of a threat. Instead of binding Jabber's hands together, they work like a set of bracelets, he's still mobile in every other way then being able to use his Jinki.

"I feel like I'm being sent to the slammer with the four of you guys surrounding me," Jabber starts, "odd you put the biggest guy in the front, or is it so that eyes on his head can take a better look at me?" He looks in consideration stretching his arms over his head and uncrosses them a second later to test the weight of his wrists, "I've got to say, the cuffs aren't doing it for me, it's mad weak, breaks the immersion, it's like I'm wearing another set of bangles—two is just right, but three is a bit gaudy y'know?"

No one responds, but he continues to fill the silence with comments and unhelpfully quips as they move through HQ. Every door they pass is followed up with: what's in there, what's it for, is that door locked? When he doesn't get an answer he makes a loud show of asking if its a Cleaner's secret the Raiders cant know about. He gets bored of that—cause he can't seem to do one thing for more than a few minutes—and starts guessing which rooms were theirs, its a stupid game he plays by himself, that has him asking at every storage room if that's where Zanka sleeps.

Zanka's lip is bleeding at how hard he's chewing back a response.

They get to the doors of Corvus's office and stop. Semiu holds the rivets of her glasses activating her Jinki. Jabber's eyes snap over to Semiu once her gaze reaches him, his eyes get buggy.

"Whatcha looking at girl?" He lifts two fingers up to Semiu's face, as if to gouge her eyes out. There's no doubt she can dodge him herself, but Zanka's body rejects the idea that Jabber threatens anyone, when he's the reason he's here in the first place.

He snatches Jabber's wrist and stops it inches away from her face. Semiu looks unfazed as she asses Jabber, her neutral face is a perfected art at this point, but even now the knots in her forehead twists and her eyes look over him like she's trying to read something in another language.

She finishes and slips off her glasses to press her fingers over her eyes, "yup, he's the same as Zanka, all messed up on the inside, but more stable like he's been this way for days."

"Hmm," Corvus finally opens the door and they walk in.

Jabber's eyes are still wide, his smile looks more like a grimace, and he tries to keep his expression controlled but his body betrays him. His tail puffs up flicking around and his ears perk up, "don't go digging around where you're not supposed to."

"Everyone who enters this building has to go through me, you, are no exception. Now you said you wanted to talk, so talk."

There's only one seat open across from Corvus's desk. Zanka takes a seat off to the side, so does Enjin, and Semiu stands next to the boss.

Jabber, the star of the show, settles into the seat, his jaw already working around more words, "this ain't no way to treat a guest, put him in cuffs, look through things you shouldn't, make demands without any promise of compensation, I know my rights officer, I'm not saying shit." He crosses his arms over his chest.

"That's not true, your implying I've been treating you like a prisoner, I haven't called the Hell Guard for your arrest, nor did I force you to walk in here, I gave you a choice Jabber Wonger, this is what you chose." Corvus corrects.

"Ain't that sweet," Jabber has his face resting in his palms as he leans on his desk, "thanks for not calling the Guard on me, never mind the fact ya' didn't cause ya' want something from me."

"I'm still seeing if you have anything I want Jabber, I've already gone out of my way to speak with you, walked along the blurry lines of the law," He gestures to the cuffs around Jabber wrists, "the cuffs are for the safety of my people. You've shown your violence, I've compromised. I'm not making any promises of compensation until I get back the worth of what I've already given you."

Jabber looks pissed, he's still grinning, but it's the way his ears fall back and his tail stands on its end that gives it away.

"Is that right? So far I haven't proven I'm worth the effort." He leans back into the seat and is silent, the sound of the coffee machine brewing in the background and the soft sizzle of Enjin's cigarette fill the room, then Jabber taps a nail against the armrest and speaks.

"Whatcha wanna know?"

Corvus flips through the papers on his desk and licks his thumb as he turns over to a document, "where did you get the poison from?"

"Hmm, straight to the good stuff, lets think about how much I can say…" he taps his chin contemplatively, and Semiu's glasses turn on when he begins, "a few—some time ago there was a group of…people we needed to get rid of, yeah." He's talking so slowly, thinking over every word he says. Whatever he is talking about must be information no one outside of the Raiders should hear about. "We got through the hard part of locating their base and taking them down wasn't even fun, weak as shit for a group of pompous ass "scientists" they couldn't even so much as throw a punch at me, lame as shit."

"This group of scientists—"

"Self proclaimed." He interjects.

"—why target them?"

His smile widens, showing his sharp teeth as a smug expression squeezes onto his face, "come on I can't tell you why, I can say that what we found there wasn't pretty. The type of bloodbaths the Hell Guard would be all over if they knew what shit went down there. The relevant part is that one of the rooms had a whole bunch of medical equipment, vials, syringes—all the works."

Jabber gestures with his hands as he speaks like his palms can paint the memory, it distracts Zanka to no end and only he could look so animated while talking about killing a bunch of people—even if it sounds like they deserved it.

"There was one vile that looked different from the rest of em', glowing purple and bubbly, but I didn't really care, I just pocketed whatever my boss didn't need to try out later."

"So you had no clue it would have this effect on you?"

"Not for a second, trust me, it was far more inconspicuous compared to what was used on the deformities in the hospital beds. Thought it was harmless, a classic paralytic with a spicy kick, but it was far from it. After going to hell and back—"

And Jabber looks back at Zanka with a smile, "—Zanka can vouch for me, I woke up looking like I came straight out of the litter."

He rest back into his seat then scoffs, a moment later lets out a few snorts of laughter before full on banging his arms against the seat and laughing with all his teeth showing, "For a few hours I though the whole this was some lingering visual and sensory hallucinations, I though I was still high, cracks me up thinking about it, but no, its real."

"How about the vial?"

Jabber smiles, "you're asking if I still have it? I do."

Corvus turns to Semiu and she nods back to confirm he's been telling the truth the whole time.

"Where is it?"

Jabber frowns, "now, now, this isn't how it works right? It's a give and take, I told you a lot of things I shouldn't have, so how about we start working on that compromise."

Jabber has the audacity to smirk when Corvus sets his pen down to speak again.

"Agreed, the clear solution would be to share the antidote once we've prepared it."

Jabber's smile drops, "why should I believe you?"

Corvus pushes his chair back and opens his drawer pulling out a small box. He pulls out a key from who knows where and turns it open. He gently fiddles with what's inside before he sets down an entirely bronze Cleaners emblem on the desk and slides it over.

"For the time being this Cleaners emblem will be in your possession."

Jabber looks at him blankly unaware of its value, while Semiu slams her hands down on the desk and even Enjin gets up from his seat in outrage.

"Boss, what?!" Semiu and Enjin say in union.

Zanka's not as audacious enough to outright show his shock, but he too was in disbelief.

It wasn't just some token, it was the emblem given to them by the Hell Guard, an official approval and recognition of their business, if he gives it away—even temporarily—Jabber now holds all of the cleaners in his hands.

"What's a hunk of melted bronze supposed to mean to me?"

"That is the very thing that allows the cleaner to run, if it were to fall into the hands of the hell Guard, especially from a Raider, they could rightfully assume a Raider was allowed entry into headquarters, that alone could warrant the removal of this establishment."

Jabber who previously looked at it with a bored expression, now has mild interest in his face. It's a more appropriate reaction, but still lacking genuine care.

"How do I know this is even real?"

"You don't. How would I know if the vial you give us is the real one? There is nowhere we can build a foundation of trust if we only tell each other lies, the only thing I have faith in is our united goal."

Jabber turns the emblem over in his fingers like it's a fidget toy, and throws it up in the air and catches it, "yeah, fine, lets work together for a while."

"I can assume you don't have the vial on you."

"Yeaaah, it's not on me, but I can tell you it's location." Jabber pulls out a slip of paper from his vest, a chewed up stubby pen, and writes the coordinates along with a roughly drawn map. It takes him a long minute to finish, he erased so many times, Zanka doesn't trust a single thing he's scribbled onto the page.

When he finishes, Corvus looks it over and writes a few things down on the sheet in front of him, "when we find the vile we'll have a giver create an antidote, this far out," he glances at his watch, "we should be back by dusk. You will stay here until we come back with our side of the exchange."

Huh?

"Wait, I'm staying here for the day?" Jabber points to his chest and sits up a little straighter.

"Yes, its benefits us both, I can't have you leave with something so important and you can get the antidote as soon as we arrive."

"HUH?." There only so many times the three of them can shout in indignation before it gets old, but they can't seem to follow the logic of the conversation. He gets to hold onto the emblem and stay in headquarters until they come back with the antidote?

"This is insane, it's way too much of a risk." Zanka says, "I'm not worth this at all."

"That's not true, we gain a lot from this; a solution, information we didn't have before. I have an acquaintance in the East ward that can help and Semiu can spot the correct vial among the others, this will be more tedious then rigorous."

"Indeed," Semiu takes a look at the map Jabber drew up, "this place is on the border of the South and East Ward, if you want us to make it back by dusk we need to head out now."

"We should have most of the stuff prepared, lets contact the support team for their help."

The two stand and lead the rest of them out of the room to the receptionist desk, Corvus and Semiu make continuous calls over their chokers and exchange notes.

"Everything is prepared and I've already contacted Stilza to come to headquarters once she's finished with her patients, and the giver you mentioned knows were on our way, this should be an easy in and out mission."

"Thank you."

"One last thing, " Semiu turns to Enjin who still looks starstruck and stabs a finger into his chest, "hold onto the key for me, I hope you know your in charge by process of elimination, team leader?"

Enjin palms her hand and grabs the key still shocked, "I'm in charge?"

Semiu makes a 'don't test me face', and Enjin retracts his statement, "yeah, yeah, I know, I got you. I can handle babysitting ole HQ."

Zanka looks between the three of them unconvinced that this isn't the hot mess it looks like, he truly does admire the man, more than he knows; but even he can admit Enjin isn't the leader type at all.

"Zanka, you told me you weren't worth the risk," Corvus's back is facing Zanka, it's broad and bears the Cleaner's emblem with a different weight he carries his own, "every Cleaner is my responsibility. I've intertwined you all with the Cleanser's goals, watch you all take risks to defend our honor, our towns. Your lives weigh on my back, just as heavy as the emblem, just as valued, just as worth the risk. I believe in nothing else."

Zanka can't say anything, and he's sure he could come up with a bunch of reasons as to why his life is not his to manage or feel responsible for, but he has this hardness in his voice, this depth Zanka couldn't begin to understand no matter how long he's worked with the man. Maybe it's the deepens of his love for the cleaners or his sense of duty, but it makes it hard to stop him from walking away, from letting Semiu follow—or protest at all when this is for him for his sake.

Zanka gathers himself, somewhat accepting, when he turns to see Jabber's face and it all shrinks back. Jabber's smirk, the bronze emblem flips between his fingers, and the soft sounds of his hissing become inescapable Zanka feels anger boil in his belly.

"Buh-bye, have a nice trip," Jabber waves them away as the door closes and his blood-crusted lips grow into a wide wicked grin, "see you when you get back."