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Several crows perched on the roof of a building nearby sitting way too still for corvids. The sound of bugs chittering could barely be heard under the noise of the crowds, but Jabber heard them anyway. The ground was dusty, and the buildings surrounding the courtyard were all falling apart. The walls were just high enough to mostly hide the gathered people from view from a distance; not that that mattered when they were all yelling as loud as possible, haggling and bartering. The sounds of their smug, self- conflagratory… self-congratulatory voices grated, chittering worse than the bugs.
Jabber felt his upper lip curl in disdain as he looked around the open-air market. It was some shady, no name, backstreet thing made up of card tables and collapsable tents. All of it would be easy to disappear quick when the Hell Guard showed up – and they would show at some point – and serviceable for its customers and vendors in the meantime. All sorts of random prophylactics – no, that wasn’t the right word. Paraphernalia! All sorts of random paraphernalia got sold out of similar markets. This market specialized in poisons.
Jabber had zero interest.
Finding random substances out in the wild, cultivating his own plants, catching animals to relieve them of their venom and toxins with his own bare hands – Jabber loved that shit. He loved the thrill of discovery, that moment of uncertainty where he felt he really might bite it, just before Mankira kicked in like she always did and synthesized whatever the fuck he’d gotten his hands on. It was a ritual that brought the two of them closer; her life on his hands, his life in her claws. Equals. If he was gonna go shopping, he’d rather it be for pretty, shiny, flashy things that could catch his eye. It was how he’d found his hair cuffs and his bracelets. It was how he’d first met Mankira.
The market was inert. Full of dead things, and not a fun kind of dead. Just stagnant. None of the vendors could tell him when they’d gotten their shit or where they’d gotten their shit, kept calling it trade secrets. He’d seen no less than a dozen plants harvested improperly, and several of the decoctions were straight up the wrong color for the animal the sellers claimed they came from. If there was a scorpion on the Ground with purple venom Jabber would’ve found it, ok? Nothing was sealed properly, so half the things on display had lost whatever potency they might’ve had, and the other half were clearly random non-toxic leaves stuffed in bags. Worst of all, the only reason Jabber was in the stupid fakey market anyway was because Cthoni had snatched him up and dropped him there.
Get it together, she’d said. You’re freaking Bundus out, and its pissing the boss off. Buy something heinous for your Vital Instrument, use it to bond, let the routine get your head on straight. You can’t keep stalking around like you’re gonna bite someone’s head off.
Jabber turned away from the market and stared out into the dunes of trash and felt his frustration grow. He had no fucking idea where he was, and that was part of the problem. Zodyl was planning something, and while he put whatever-the-fuck-it-was together the raiders were traveling everywhere by portal to keep their movements on the down low. Right to the objective and back to the hideout meant no Hell Guard interrupting but it also meant no Cleaners getting the jump on them. It meant no randomly noticing when a trash beast was being fought nearby, indicating the Cleaners’ presence. It meant no Zanka.
Zanka, who’d called him and asked for him, who’d stabbed himself because he wanted to simulate how Mankira felt against his skin. Zanka, who’d dabbled in poison specifically for Jabber. It’d been hard to hear over the choker, but when Zanka told him about his shiv it had sorta sounded like he was smiling. Jabber wanted badly to see that smile in real life, to know if Zanka liked it too - if he understood the clarity that only came on the precipice of death. He wanted to face him and see if he’d seen the truth, see if Zanka was finally ready to be free with him.
Jabber’s blood started to race like it always did when he imagined getting to fight the other boy again, his heart straining. He wanted to know what poison’d been used and how it felt to Zanka. He wanted to know the effects and how long they’d lasted, if the prolonged bleeding had been from the fighting or if it’d been an anti-coagulant. He wanted to know if Zanka had tried it again, where he was getting his substances from. He wanted Zanka to look him in the eye and say that no one and nothing got him as high as Jabber did.
Zodyl’s sudden penchant for secrecy was seriously fucking up his mojo, and Cthoni dropping him off in some duplicate… some duplicitous marketplace was not going to bring him back to an even keel. Well, Jabber paused, as even as he ever got anyway. The point was! Bullshit poisons and fuck-ass venoms were not going to sate his bloodlust. However… killing everyone in the market and then finding whatever fucking bug that was screaming in the underbrush and crushing it for whatever toxins it might secrete? That could work.
Jabber felt Mankira manifest on his hands. Not her full glory, but enough to have a little fun. His eyes rolled in his head as he scanned the area for his first victim. They all looked boring and easy to kill, honestly, so he’d have to go for maximum gore to get attention. Then he could at least enjoy their screams. Hell, maybe some of their fight-or-flight reactions would prompt them to actually fight back. He crouched, ready to spring.
Chirrrp, chirrup
With a sigh, he grabbed at the collar just in case it was Cthoni calling to bitch him out for wandering too far from the portal spot. The call didn’t register as Cthoni though. It was some new girl named Kara or Kayo or something. She was a random grunt, nowhere even near a chance at the front lines, and she had absolutely no reason to be calling Jabber. He felt the grin scrawl across his face, and he accepted the call.
“Mr. Bad Attitude. Baby, is that you?”
“Hah?! How’d the fuck ya know it was me? And m’not your baby, don’t get familiar.”
“Naughty, naughty, did you kill Kaoru? Are you out fighting raiders who aren’t me, again?”
“Wouldn’t be fighting other raiders if ya’d show up yourself. I’m not hidin’, yer just not around, freak. And this lady said her name was Kairi. Ya don’t know your own teammates or what?”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Bad Attitude, your name is the only one in my heart.”
“Oh, fuck off. I’ve never heard you say it; I bet you don’t even remember my name.”
Sounded to Jabber like a request. He fell where he was, landing hard on his back and giggling into the call. He started to tease, to tell Zanka that he’d say his name in exchange for a little more information on how often he was poisoning himself, when he heard a girl’s voice hollering in the background.
“Zanka, is she dead?! Why are you getting to kill people when I can’t?! Why are you killing people at all?!”
And then that umbrella guys’ voice broke in - “HE’S KILLING PEOPLE?!”
“NO. I ain’t killing anybody… this time, okay? This lady’s only mostly dead; she’ll walk again if she gets help. Not my fault if raiders don’t come back for their fallen.”
A shiver sprinted up Jabber’s spine at the callousness. He wanted Zanka to be that mean to him. There was more yelling, but Jabber couldn’t make it out over the sound of Zanka speaking directly to him again. The other noise filtered in one ear and out the other, like most noise did. For half a second, his ear caught on a random phrase: … can’t bring her, she can’t use her Vital Instrument out here to save her. A Giver as a healer, with the Cleaners? And then it was gone, most of his attention focused on his favorite fighting partner.
“Honestly, Jabber, if you don’t fight me soon, I’m gonna start thinkin yer just stringing me along.”
“Never. I want to see you let loose more than anything, and it will happen.”
“Ah. So… what yer saying is the raiders are up to something, and that’s why ya can’t come see me? Too busy?”
“No snitching on the boss, not even for you, baby. You don’t need to worry if its raider business keeping me away or my own business. Just stay ready so we can go at it the second I get to you, yeah?”
“Fucker,” Zanka snorted. He had a stupid laugh, and it made Jabber smile harder. In the background he could hear other Cleaners still arguing. “I told ya not to call me baby. I’ll believe yer gonna show up when ya finally do. Until then, I’m tellin everyone we come across that the big bad raider Jabber Wonger is scared to face me.”
“Say my name again,” Jabber sighed, “I’m close.”
“Ugh, freak. Tell the portal woman to come get this lady before she really eats it.”
“I’m excited to see you too, Zanka. Soon.”
“Yeah, yeah, its all talk till it happens. Goodbye, Jabber.”
And then he was gone. Jabber sat up, and noticed that most of the stalls had closed up. Far in the distance, he could see the dust cloud of approaching vehicles. Hell Guard on their way to enact order and justice, then. Passively, he watched as everyone who’d just been talking such big game scattered to avoid lock up. Zanka had no clue he’d just saved all those people from certain death.
“Jabber. You calm?”
He looked over his shoulder at Cthoni half-hanging out of a portal and smiled.
“Yeah, I feel great!”
“Well then get up and come on. We’ve got another mission.”
Jabber stood and dusted the dirt from his pants and his purple tail. He shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled over, a genuine bounce in his step. The market had sucked, but the day hadn’t been bad. Not bad at all.