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“You’re mine for beating the shit out of. I don’t want you to like fighting the other cleaners the way you like fighting me”
Zanka can’t tell what’s going on anymore. His brain has decided to become a chemical explosion after he’d been injected with whatever fuckass poison Jabber hit him with. He can see his earlier day when he was with the Hellguards, the Cleaners, his family…, the memories swirl and for a second he can’t tell where the fuck he truly is.
The only audio he can hear is the voices of the people he’s met, talking to him in this dreamlike state. He feels numb yet he’s still in pain, but he’s also so relaxed and giddy, none of those should be allowed in the same sentence nor feeling.
He wonders what everyone else is doing. Maybe he is just dreaming, and the fight’s already over and he just got badly injured. Maybe when he goes back to HQ, everyone would be questioning how green he was, and they too would be green, but he wouldn’t be green enough.
‘What the fuck is in this poison???’
He’s seriously losing his mind.
A wave of dreariness clouds over him, he’s so fucking tired. Of all of this bullshit. He doesn’t really know what he wants if he’s being honest with himself. Maybe he should’ve stayed with the Hellguards and just accepted his miserable fate.
“Maybe I could’ve had more fun if I fought a different Cleaner…”
Huh?
What the fuck is this guy talking about. Who is this again— right, it’s Jabber.
Wait, it’s Jabber. What the hell.
Unable to control whatever shit was coming out of his mouth, Zanka blurted out a “No.”
Jabber raised an eyebrow and looked at him with curiosity, “You’re still conscious? Man, I thought you really were done. So full of surprises, my dear Zan-zan.” He smirks and looks Zanka in the eyes.
Despite Zanka not being fully focused, nor in the best shape to continue fighting, nor mentally stable enough to continue fighting, he grabs Jabber by the arms. Jabber doesn’t resist, curious to see what he does.
He stabs himself with both claws.
Excitement buzzes in Jabber’s eyes immediately, “Woah! Didn’t know y’were just as much as a fuck up as me.” If one could pay attention, a tinge of concern laced his facial expressions, “…Why’d ya do that though, I thought you’d at least go for the pain-pain go-away. Such an interesting guy you are.”
Zanka stares at him intently. “I don’t want you to fight the other Cleaners the way you do with me, n’ I don’t want you to like fighting the other cleaners as much as you like fighting me.” He looked at Jabber as if knowing the thrill of their fights couldn’t compare, the smug half-smirk half-grimace on his face was telling. No one else gets Jabber as riled up as Zanka, no one else can push Zanka to his limits like Jabber does. They’re dependent on each other for the thrill. “You’re mine for beating the shit out of the way I want to.”
Jabber grins maniacally, “How romantic, a lover’s duel it is then?”
Zanka smiles at him, then bites his hand, unfortunately poison is immediately in his mouth. And it hurts like hell. Realistically, he should be dead right now. Or at the very least unable to move.
Unfortunately, he has a terrible addiction to the man known as Jabber. Said man knows how to make him lose his shit.
Jabber smiles like the freak he is, glad he was able to see some of Zanka’s potential come out, even if just a little bit. The struggle and pain that came with it was satisfactory, the glee he felt was unmatchable to any of his other fights. How lovely that his Zanka was so aggressive and persistent. Even in his hallucinations he was fighting it.
Blinded by his admiration of his literal rival, he had not noticed that said rival was now pinning him to the ground and tying him up. And apparently at some point in time the guy had enough time to bandage himself.
“Hey— I wanna fight! Zan-zan you’re being unfair. I helped you and now you’re detaining me?!” He shrieks. Zanka ignores him and his thrashing, “Or is this some kind of kinky thing you got? If that’s what gets you going I’d be glad to help—“
“Can you quit being a freak for ONE second?” Zanka says. Despite his assertive intent, his face is flushed and his voice is a pitch higher.
Jabber smirks, “So it is a kink of yours. Will keep that in mind for next time.” Zanka slaps him, unfortunately, this is futile, as all Jabber does is moan to piss him off. And it does, but a dirty little voice in the back of his mind likes it. Zanka has been ruined by this man with his freakish nature.
Zanka wipes the blood and grime off of him, even though it’s futile “Yer Boss can come pick you up, I’m done fighting with you for today.” he spits out.
Jabber pouts, “No fair! Is it ‘cuz I ticked ya off?”
“You always tick me off.” Zanka says bluntly.
“Mm, but you seem angrier this time, it’s cuz of what I said earlier huh? Yer such a damn control freak, wanting me all to yourself” In response to his provoking words, Zanka whacks him with Assistaff, right on his ribs. A scream turns into a moan— as expected of this freak.
Zanka sighs, “I really don’t get paid enough to do this.” He spits up blood and some of the poison he got in his system from earlier, the world starts to shake a bit.
Jabber giggles, a few chokes here and there due to his injury, “3”
Zanka starts spinning, losing his balance.
“2”
He swears he’s going to kill this guy.
“1! Happy new year!”
“Yer fuckin’ late—”
He collapses to the ground, a small smile on his face. Does this count as a win or a draw? He doesn’t know— He’s just glad he didn’t lose again like last time. Maybe one day he’ll prove himself.
Jabber lay beside the unconscious man, knowing he’s about to go into a hysterical laughing fit. He pouts, “It’s not fun when you’re unconscious…” He frees himself of the rope used to detain him. “Next time, stay awake long enough so we can fight.” He slips one of his rings onto Zanka’s finger and smiles, “Now you won’t be able to escape me, even in sickness and death, or however the saying goes.”
Zanka’s going to have the time of his life explaining why he has one of Jabber’s rings on his ring finger. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to explain anytime soon.
A barrage of bullets aims at Jabber, none of the bullets hit any vitals, but he’s still incapacitated. It seems little miss redhead got him.
A laugh escapes him as he thinks of a future where he and Zanka bloody each other daily. His idea of a beautiful future is where white can be drowned in crimson as their ceremony, fuck the standard. A blissed out expression plays on his face as he falls to the ground, he jabs himself with right-claw before heading to lala-land.