Chapter Text
Jabber’s memories from the night before were strange and foggy. Most of them had been consumed by the void, and what he did remember felt like a dream. He’d managed to get so doped up on every substance imaginable that even his high tolerance for everything hadn’t been able to stop him from acting like an idiot.
Normally, if he was going to be on call for the night, he was pretty good at regulating himself. He’d only have enough to get sort of shit faced- you know, like, performance level shit faced.
Look. He’d been at one of his usual haunts doing his usual stuff, which included pissing because every person has to use the restroom at some point. It just so happens that, in the restroom, there were people popping pills. Nice people who offered him a few.
It wasn’t the first time Jabber had taken drugs from strangers and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Those things were amazing- whatever had been in that shit was just strong enough to tip him over the edge and into the downward spiral called taking too much on a work night.
Things started getting fuzzy at that point. He somehow ended up at another bar or club… last thing he recalled before blacking out was snorting a line off a toilet seat.
Then there was a solid 4-5 hours that Jabber could not recollect for the life of him, but he must have done something right because next thing he remembers, he was making out with a random guy, and a good kisser at that.
The next morning, Jabber would have a vague impression of a face and a feeling- blue earrings and choppy eyebrows. Anger and pain and something resembling attraction.
In the moment, however, he’d had a pretty good grasp on who exactly this guy was and how they’d ended up on top of each other in the back of Cthoni’s car.
This was Mr. Bad Attitude. Obviously.
They were in the parking lot of the Walgreens, the only lighting coming from the fluorescent store front and grimy street lamps. Too bright to see any stars… not that it really mattered in the darkness of the back seat.
Mr. Bad Attitude was knelt over Jabber, hand clutching the collar of his shirt, shoving him into the car door. His mouth was hungry against Jabber’s- tongue pushing just far enough to test his gag reflex. The hand not forcing him into place pressed into a bruise on Jabber’s side, sending a shock of brilliant pain along his rib.
Jabber pulled away slightly, sucking at the corner of Attitude’s lips, moving to the guy’s neck and adding to the already bruised skin. His hands were tangled in Attitude’s hair; they traveled down to the hood of the jacket he was wearing. Very familiar jacket- pretty sure he had one just like it. He slipped it off the man’s shoulders and moved his mouth to the guy’s collar bone.
On a whim, he tried digging his teeth into Mr. Bad Attitude’s skin, tasting blood. Attitude whined, jerking away and sitting up. Jabber barely had a chance to take in the image of the man towering over him- that murderous look in his eye, like he wanted to crush Jabber- before he was hit across the face.
Jabber grinned, dazed, trying to think of something clever to say, something to really piss him off, when it was all swallowed by Attitude again. Words, grin, and all back in Mr. Bad Attitude’s greedy mouth. He tasted like beer and bad decisions.
Jabber’s butt was vibrating again. It did that sometimes- he’d just ignore it. There was also noise coming from… it was hard to tell, Jabber was feeling rather euphoric at the moment.
Mr. Bad Attitude’s hand’s were sliding around his waist, slipping to his ass. One slid into his back pocket- Jabber’s hips bucked involuntarily.
“Who keeps callin’ ya?” Attitude murmured against his mouth.
Jabber responded with a slight hum of confusion as Attitude pulled back.
Jabber looked up at him, half illuminated by light from the street. Maybe it was whatever was working its way through Jabber’s system, but he doesn’t think he’s seen a more beautiful man. His weird ass eyebrows and emo hair, the curve of his shoulder and the sadistic gleam in his eye. Jabber suddenly noticed that he was holding his phone.
Sneaky bitch. Must’ve taken it from Jabber’s pocket- wait, that’s where the sound and vibrating was coming from, huh?
Attitude gave him one more questioning look before raising the phone to his ear.
“Hello?” He grumbled.
“Who is this?”
The voice on the phone was muffled from where Jabber was laying- but it was still familiar enough to snap some sense back into him.
Jabber snatched the phone from the man, bringing it to his ear. Attitude made a face, clearly annoyed. He grinned back.
“Heyy, sorry ‘bout that,” Jabber laughed into the phone.
“Jabber,” Zodyl’s voice was dangerous, “Who was that?”
Jabber glanced at Mr. Bad Attitude. The man had lain down on his chest, face propped on his hands, looking at him with those angry eyes.
“A friend,” Jabber harshly kneed Attitude in the groin, eliciting an furious grunt and earning him an elbow to the stomach. Jabber bit his lip to keep himself from verbally reacting.
“Can you get rid of them?” Zodyl asked.
“Already left the room,” Jabber watched Attitude return to his place on Jabber’s chest, mindlessly messing with one of his locs.
“I need you to make a pick-up,” Zodyl said, “I’ve already sent you the location and instructions. You haven’t seen it.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“I had to call you five times.”
“Like I said, I’m busy,” Jabber pulled Attitude’s hair with his free hand.
“You shouldn’t be busy. You’re working. We’ll have to talk about this.”
Jabber assumed that was supposed to be threatening.
“Be at the location in thirty minutes.” Zodyl demanded before hanging up.
Sigghhh. Duty always had to call at the most inconvenient times. Mr. Bad Attitude bit Jabber’s wrist.
“Fuck,” Jabber cackled, involuntarily pulling his hand back, “Whatcha gotta do that for?”
“Don’ pull ma ‘air.” Attitude was now hovering over him, hands planted on either side of his head. White hot fire in livid eyes, enraged mouth suddenly chasing Jabber’s, hateful hands sliding under his shirt.
It was insanely hot. Jabber grinned into space as Bad Attitude moved to gnaw at his neck, leaving marks he’d probably regret tomorrow. Not that it mattered now.
What mattered was… well, what mattered was probably keeping his job.
The drugs and the darkness and the feeling of Mr. Bad Attitude’s nails digging mercilessly into his torso almost had him floating back into oblivion- but whatever shit he’d taken had worn off just enough to keep him in the back of the car.
This fucking sucked. He was having a wonderful time; truly, an evening that would go down in infamy. There was no saying no to Zodyl, though. He’d already messed up one too many times; if he missed this pick up someone would probably find his body in a dumpster- or worse- he’d have to get a normal job.
The concept of working retail was enough to get through to him. Priorities or whatever.
“Hey,” Jabber muttered, “Didya hear the phone?”
“Mmm.” Attitude was trying to get Jabber’s shirt off.
Jabber grabbed his chin, forcing him to back off a bit. The guy glared down at him.
“Much as I hate to cut you short, I do hafta do my job,” Jabber grinned. He liked how frustrated that seemed to make Baditude. He hesitated; something fighting behind his gaze. If Jabber had to guess, Bad Attitude’s impulse to be a little bitch was arguing with some innate morals.
The morals seemed to win, because Mr. Bad Attitude rolled his eyes, moving back enough to let Jabber sit up.
“Whatcha gotta do?” He sounded exasperated.
“I need ta pick somethin’ up,” Jabber opened his phone and the unanswered message from Zodyl.
They were meeting at the warehouse. The payment had already been made, so he was just taking the case. He would leave it at the drop box.
Cool. Very basic, base line stuff- he’d done more while higher. It’d be fine.
He looked over at Mr. Bad Attitude, who was watching him.
Maybe Jabber was imagining things (very possible, he was still sort of tripping), but the guy looked almost… sad.
Awww… was Mr. Bad Attitude gonna miss him? How cute.
“You wanna come with me?” That had definitely been the drugs talking.
The next morning, Jabber would not be able to remember how Zanka ended up coming with him. He’d wonder why he hadn’t just left him in the Walgreens parking lot and taken off to responsibly do the pick up alone. Maybe its because he wasn’t particularly responsible- the fact that he was high out of his mind on a work night was enough proof of that.
“Ya thought I wa’n’t alrea’y plannin’ to?” Attitude dead-panned.
Jabber giggled. He leaned over to briefly kiss him- Mr. Bad Attitude could play all he wanted, he knew the guy was relieved. He could tell by the way he kissed him back. Jabber pulled away, much to Attitude’s disgruntlement.
“M’kay, let’s go,” Jabber grinned, crawling into the driver’s seat.
Mr. Bad Attitude picked up the giant stuffed blue bear from where it laid on the floor and threw at him- it softly slammed into Jabber, who shoved it into the passenger’s seat, cackling.
“Yer such ’n assho’e,” Attitude leaned onto the center console as Jabber started the car.
Jabber wasn’t a great driver on the best of days. Though “best of days” may be poor wording considering that Jabber was having the time of his life. He was still off his motherfucking rocker, but had come down just enough to be in that sweet spot where he did his best work. There was a baddie in the back seat calling him obscenities and a road dancing with the shapes and colors of streetlights.
Legally, however, this was not a “best of days.” Its a miracle Jabber didn’t crash the car on the way out of the parking lot. Its even more of a miracle that he didn’t crash the car when Mr. Bad Attitude suddenly decided to bash him on the side of his head.
The car swerved violently as stars blinked in front of Jabber’s eyes, a manic grin on his face. See, this is why he fucked with him, he was always keeping it interesting.
“You ev’n know where yer drivin’?” Attitude climbed over the center dash and into the passenger seat, poking at the Subaru’s screen.
Shit, yeah. He couldn’t get anywhere without a map, he was god awful with directions.
Jabber opened Zodyl’s message, using that hand to direct the wheel while he plugged the address into Cthoni’s car. He was practically a professional when it came to screens on the road; he’d lost track of the number of times he’d been scrolling while driving. Still hadn’t gotten caught, that’s the mark of true tal-
“CAR!” Bad Attitude reached over and jerked the wheel- Jabber looked up, foot instinctively slamming on the brake.
They swerved, rocking to a stop on the wrong side of the road. The other car had managed to stop in time too, headlights blaring in Jabber’s face.
Jabber drove forwards, pulling even with the other before rolling his window down.
“You missed!” Jabber shouted.
The man in the other car opened his window a crack, “Watch where you’re driving, asshole!”
“Getch yer eyes checked!” Mr. Bad Attitude leaned over Jabber, a vein popping in his forehead.
The guy in the other car apparently decided this wasn’t worth his time and flipped them off as he drove away.
“Yeah, Fuck awff!” Attitude yelled. His palms were planted in Jabber’s lap, leaning to get as close to the window as he could. He suddenly dug one of his hands into Jabber’s thigh, hard enough to bruise. The pain was exhilarating, spiking pleasure.
“Don’ git us killed,” He snapped, pulling back into his seat.
“Man, ya have to sit all the way over there?” Jabber stuck his bottom lip out in a fake pout. Mr. Bad Attitude glared at him, slouched in his seat, arms crossed.
Boring.
Jabber rolled his eyes, hitting the gas. It took his drug-addled brain another block to remember he needed to hit “start" to get directions.
“Shit,” Jabber muttered under his breath, pressing the screen. They were going the wrong direction. Of course. He pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road, which made Baditude yelp.
“I sai’ don’ git us killed!” He shrieked.
Jabber cackled. The road was sort of swimming in front of him, rippling like it was a reflection in a puddle. It was always sort of funky, driving at night.
“In a quarter mile, take a right,” the car chirped a cheerful British accent.
Jabber hated that voice, it was so soulless. It also seemed to grab Mr. Bad Attitude’s attention- he stared at the screen for a moment.
“What’re we goin ta git ag’in?” Attitude eventually asked.
Zodyl hadn’t been specific in the message, but if Jabber had to guess, it was some kind of contraband. Coke or acid or the like. The Raider’s were one of the biggest syndicates in the city- mostly thy moved and sold drugs. Apparently, Zodyl had other plans- you know, ears planted in big places- but Jabber’s job was to move what was needed and take care of any… issues.
Obviously illegal activity.
Obviously, Mr. Bad Attitude here couldn’t know any of that.
The next morning, Jabber would wonder why he hadn’t simply left him on the side of the road. Maybe it’s because he still had several bruises from the guy throbbing in his side. Maybe it’s because he looked awful pretty in the trippy colors of the street lights.
“I dunno,” Jabber shrugged, “Boss wasn’t that specific.”
“Who da hell even is yer boss,” Was that envy in Mr. Bad Attitude’s voice?
“Aw, you jelly?” Jabber cackled.
For that, he got an aggressively painful punch to the shoulder.
The navigation said it would take ten minutes to get there. It took thirty. The drive was a mess of missed turns, yelling, and a brief fight on the side of the road; Mr. Bad Attitude had a real tendency to overreact. They were five minutes late.
The meeting place was on the more dangerous side of town- all sketchy broken down buildings and grimy smoke. Yellow light played across the street with rats and rust. The warehouse itself had been more or less abandoned for years, used to hold flour or something- Jabber didn’t know, or care matter of fact- all he knew was that this was a good spot to make… transactions. This wouldn’t have been the first time the Raider’s used the spot.
The building’s large doors always hung open, barely holding onto the hinges. Jabber drove in, the only light in the building coming from his headlights and the headlights of the van he was supposed to meet with. They illuminated the silhouettes of four people milling about, attentive, apparently waiting for his arrival.
“Alright,” Jabber slid the car into park, “Keep yer yapper shut, lemme do my thing, and we can get out of here.”
He got out of the car, leaving it running so that his headlights could keep giving him something to work with. He closed the door before Baditude could drop some smart-ass retort- he just wanted to get this over with. Nothing interesting about a god damn simple pick-up. He heard the passenger door slam, Attitude catching up to walk next to him.
“Heyooo,” He waved at the four guys as he approached. Now that he was closer he could see them better. All four wore masks- the unmistakeable grin of an Angel.
Ah-ha. This could be fun, then. The Angels were the only other gang to really rival the Raiders, and things had been pretty strained with them as of late. It wasn’t a full on war yet, but it sure as hell was getting close.
Hey, maybe tonight Jabber’d get lucky and they’d fire the first shot. Might just happen, too; three of them were holding guns.
“Wonger,” One at the front said, “You’re late.”
Ah, so he’s worked with these before. Could you blame a guy for not recognizing a friend when they always wear a mask?
“What else you expect?” Jabber laughed, “Got the goods?”
“Got it right here,” The one speaking gestured back to one of their pals, who hefted a silver case. The Angel then gestured at Attitude, “Who’s your friend?”
Jabber glanced at Attitude, “He’s just a-”
“Let the man speak for himself,” The Angel snapped, “What’s your name?”
Mr. Bad Attitude didn’t so much as glance at Jabber before opening his fat mouth.
“Name’s Zanka Nijiku.”
Zanka… Nijiku?
The name spiked dread in Jabber’s stomach- which was rare. It’d been a second since he’d felt so utterly shocked.
He suddenly realized he didn’t know Attitude’s name. Sure, he’d probably been told it earlier that evening, but it had sure as fuck hadn’t heard it. “Mr. Bad Attitude” was sufficient enough.
Everyone knew the Nijiku family.
They were infamous. Hellguard royalty. If you were gonna be concerned with the Hellguard at all, you best be concerned with the Nijiku family. And it just so happens that the Hellguard is concern number one for any syndicate in this city.
Jabber should of known something like this would happen eventually- he was too careless. Looks like the shit had finally hit the fan.
The Angels fell back defensively, raising their weapons. The one with the case ducked into the van, starting the car.
“Man, are you crazy!?” An Angel shouted, “Get on the ground!!”
Jabber glanced at Bad- Zanka fucking Nijiku- and grinned. Never a dull moment with this asshole.
“Da hell’s yer prob’em?” Zanka snapped at the Angels.
“On the ground!” The Angel gestured with their gun.
“Y’all need to chill,” Jabber said, approaching them.
They did not in fact chill. Wasn’t surprising, Jabber’s face was not telling them to calm down- in fact it was begging them to fire.
“Don’t get any closer,” The Angel warned.
“Just hand over the case.”
“Hey-“ Jabber couldn’t tell whether Zanka was yelling at him or the Angels- all he knew was that the man was cut off by the sound of a gun shot.
An invitation.
Jabber had been expecting the attack from a mile away and dodged to the side, dashing to the first Angel and nailing him in the chest with a kick. They stumbled back into the person behind them and they both tumbled to the floor.
He was also expecting the second gunshot, which sounded behind him. He ducked, turning to kick the person’s feet out from under them, only to find that he’d been totally off base.
The shot hadn’t been fired at him; it’d been fired at Zanka. He should’ve guessed, stupid ass drugs were making him lag.
The Angel had somehow missed Zanka, who had rushed the other. Zanka decked them in the face; there was an audible crunch.
Should Jabber be jealous? Probably not. This was why Cthoni was constantly ragging his ass about “getting help.”
Jabber’s kick to the Angel’s knees still landed, and with Zanka’s punch, they landed heavily on their back with a thud and a ragged breath.
Zanka ground his heel into the Angel's face. The van’s headlights light up his eyes with fire, his lips curled in a disgusted sneer. His hair was a mess- Jabber wasn’t sure if it was from this fight or if it was his own doing from earlier, but it was definitely hot.
See, the fact that we wished he was the one under Zanka’s heel probably wasn’t healthy- but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna admit defeat and let Cthoni drive him to see a dumb dumb stupid therapist.
As much as Jabber would love to keep watching Zanka beat the shit out of some Angel, there were, unfortunately, things to handle.
He turned back to the Angels behind him, one already back on their feet. He drove his fist into their face, his rings adding that painful edge, knocking them back. The other managed to nail him in his side with their gun, shocking the breath from his lungs.
Grinning, Jabber’s hand shot for his pocket. Always kept a little something on him. Usually he used it to knock himself out, but it helped in a fight to have a sedating drug.
He suddenly realized he wasn't wearing his jacket. He glanced back at Zanka.
Ah. That was his hoodie he was wearing. Of course.
The brief fumble was enough for the other Angel to get him in the face, forcing him to stumble back. He could feel blood dripping from his nose, warm and sticky. Jabber licked it off his upper lip, stifling a laugh.
He rushed back at the pair before they could prepare their weapons to fire again, slamming one of the guns to the floor and punching him in his nose. Mankira did her job- he heard the bone crack.
The Angel’s gun was now on the floor; Jabber kicked it so that it slid under the van. The Angel lunged for it, skidding to their stomach to reach beneath the vehicle.
Zanka suddenly appeared above the man, pinning him to the ground and holding them in a headlock, slowly cutting off their air.
God, he was so fine.
Jabber suddenly felt the nose of a gun press into the small of his back- the other Angel had gotten their wits about them quicker than expected.
“On the ground, or I shoot,” Their breath and voice was ragged and tired, but they still held the gun.
“Don’t talk to me like that in public,” Jabber giggled. He only kind of meant it- the concept of actually dying was not one he particularly enjoyed. Hopefully it would throw the Angel off guard and give him an opportunity to strike.
There was a gun shot, and for a second there, he thought he’d rage baited a little too far.
There was no new pain in his lower back though, just a yelp behind him.
Jabber’s eyes focused for a moment; Zanka had left the other Angel unconscious on the ground, using their gun to shoot the Angel at Jabber’s back. Jabber assumed they must be somewhat injured and swung around to kick their feet out from under them.
They fell with a gasp; Jabber took the opportunity to snatch their weapon. He bashed the Angel in the head with the butt of the gun, watching as they fell limp.
There was another gunshot- one that sounded concerningly near his ear.
Spinning around, he saw the fourth Angel leaning outside the van, pistol in hand, aimed right at him. They swerved it between him and Zanka, breathing loudly enough to hear from where Jabber stood, practically hyperventilating.
“Put the weapons down!” They screeched.
“Hey, we ain’t the one’s to bring guns to a pick-up,” Jabber smiled.
The Angel swung the gun at him, shaking slightly.
Zanka took the opportunity to fire his own weapon, right at the Angel’s hand. The shot didn’t land, but the impact did- the Angel freaked, dropping their pistol to draw back into the car. Before they could drive off, Zanka was at the window, trying to force his way through the quickly closing opening. He had this feral grin on his face- fucking sadist enjoyed this shit.
Jabber came up behind him, one hand slipping into the pocket of Zanka’s- his- jacket, the other coming around his waist. His hands closed around the needle- he popped the cap off as he pulled it out. He yanked Zanka out the window, away from the screaming Angel, and plunged the drug into the person’s neck.
It took effect almost immediately, yell tapering off, body falling limp.
Panting, Jabber shimmied out of the half closed window, grinning as he looked around at the three bodies laying around the van. He was honestly a little disappointed- that had been way too easy. The Angels’ chests still rose and fell, alive. That was probably for the best- this could be written off as an incident on Jabber’s part, not the Raiders. Zodyl’d prefer that.
He suddenly heaved, puking on the pavement. Fighting while coming down from who knows what- truly, a brilliant idea. Damn, his barf stunk like actual poop from a butt.
He finished retching, standing up straight. Without the slightest warning, he was tackled by Mr. Bad Attitude, shocking a ragged laugh from his exhausted body.
Zanka pinned him to the ground, furious face hovering inches from his own. That could not smell good- barf breath was the worst.
“Wha’ da fuck?” He snapped, “Da hell’d ya bring me in’to? Who da fuck ar’ you?”
“Could ask ya the same thing, Zanka, my friend,” Jabber leaned in closer to really rub that barf breath in.
“Huh?” His face was so confused- it was cute.
Oh, to get so utterly wasted you forgot who you were.
Jabber doubted he was a worm. He was just an officer of the law in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Jabber managed to yank his legs free, wrapping them around Zanka’s waist and twisting so he was the one pinning Zanka down. It was almost upsetting, how easily he went. Jabber leaned forwards, his wicks falling like a curtain around Zanka’s face, brass hair pieces clinking gently.
Zanka struggled, spitting up at Jabber. It did nothing- he must be tired from… everything. So sad how little of a fight he was able to put up.
“Who woulda thunked you ran with the Hellguard?” Jabber muttered thoughtfully, eyes scouring Zanka’s face, his angry expression, his wild eyes panicking.
Sighing, Jabber stuck his needle into Zanka’s neck.
Zanka’s eyes glazed over, his body going loose as he stopped struggling. A dopey smile replaced his sneer, his pupils rolled up towards the back of his head.
Jabber’d used most of the sedative on the Angel, so there wasn’t enough to take Zanka out, but there was more than enough to subdue him. He grinned as Zanka let his head loll, a chuckle escaping his mouth.
Jabber suddenly noticed the bead of blood on his neck from the prick- a delicious bright red, stark and vibrant. He licked it up, teeth grazing the man’s skin.
Zanka cackled.
Jabber pulled back, watching him laugh like he was having the time of his life. He couldn’t help but smile.
He stood up, still staring down at Mr. Bad Attitude, debating whether he should leave him here. He looked around the warehouse again, at the unconscious Angels. Their people would probably find them soon- which would not end well for his pal.
Hm. Well.
Jabber went to the van, grabbing the case through the half open window. The Angel’s breath hitched as his hand reached passed- Jabber almost slammed his elbow into their face.
He paused next Zanka. The guy had been fun, a good fighter even while completely black out drunk. That probably meant he should just let him die- he’d only cause more problems later. But…
He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Zanka’s roaming eyes focused on him. God. Were those tears? Was he crying?
Wimp.
Jabber’s heart wrenched regardless. He couldn’t ditch him here at the Angel’s mercy, he just couldn’t.
Sighing, Jabber stooped down, grabbing Zanka’s foot and dragging him across the pavement to Cthoni’s car. He tossed the case in the passenger seat with the stuffed bear, then grabbed Zanka under his arm pits, heaving him into the back seat of the vehicle.
Zanka laughed as he collapsed into back, tears streaming down his face.
Jabber started the car, driving out of the warehouse, away from the scene of the crime.
The drop box wasn’t too far from his apartment, almost a thirty minute drive from the warehouse. Thankfully, he knew that route by heart, and with very little mouth from Mr. Bad Attitude and very few cars on the road, he got there with only one close call of collision.
Leaving the case was uneventful enough; now all he needed was something to do with Zanka. He sure as hell couldn’t come back to his place.
He got back in the drivers seat, staring at Mr. Bad Attitude in the mirror. He’d taken to muttering to himself, heading rolling around like he was searching the void.
There was a parking garage not two blocks from his home. He could just…
The parking lot was almost always empty. Jabber lived in a fairly sketchy part of town- not many visitors. So it just sat there. Unused. That meant there were plenty of room to ditch Zanka.
He swerved into one of the many, many available parking spots. He got out, about to slam the door and walk away without even locking the car.
“Wai’…” Zanka groaned.
Jabber paused, leaning back to look at Zanka. He was so pathetic, sprawled in the backseat like he was helpless.
“Whatcha need, Baditude?"
“Don’ leave me…” fuck, the tears were back.
Jabber stared at him for a second, conflicted. This was literally the enemy- he was doing too much by bringing him this far.
He doesn’t know why he did it. It must’ve been the drugs again or something. He got out and opened the door to the back seat. He only hesitated a moment before sliding one of his rings off his index finger and onto Zanka’s. As an after thought, he slid the car keys into his jacket pocket.
He’d been a good fighter. They’d had a lot of fun tonight. He probably deserved this much.
._.
Actually? Zanka’s ass had not fucking deserved that much, what the hell had he been thinking?
Jabber initially thought it had been a dream. When he woke up the next morning- if we’re considering three in the afternoon to still be morning- his head hurt vaguely, a real testament to how much he had taken last night. Sunlight blared through his blinds, annoyingly bright to his sleepy eyes.
He was still in his clothes from last night. He didn’t remember coming home or anything, he must’ve just passed out. His cropped shirt was too tight; he hated tight clothing, why the hell had he chosen to be cute rather than comfy last night GAWD.
Still half asleep, he tore the thing off, tossing it to the floor. He settled back to his pillow, ready to drift back off. There was this gnawing feeling that something was off in the pit of his stomach, the remnants of a bad trip. He always had the weirdest fucking dreams when took that much…
A ring was missing.
Jabber bolted upright, a shock of adrenaline coursing through him. He had on nine of his rings- he never took those things off, where-
He frantically scoured his sheets, hoping against hope that maybe it had simply slipped off his finger while he slept.
Obviously, it wasn’t there.
Obviously, it hadn’t been a dream.
He ended up collapsing back in the sheets, driving his heels into his eyes.
Shit.
Seriously, he needed to stop taking stuff on work nights.
He idly opened his phone, hoping that maybe he got the guy’s socials or number or something.
His notifications had been flooded with a bunch of random stuff, snaps and reels from both friends and people he barely knew. He also had a text from Zodyl and a couple messages from Cthoni- right. He’d taken her car. Didn’t know how he’d explain losing that- he ignored it for the moment.
There was nothing from Mr. Bad Attitude- no new numbers, no new followers, not even an account when he searched up “Zanka Nijiku.”
He threw the phone across the room in a fit, not caring to watch where it landed and collapsed back under his covers.
God, he’d really fucked up.
There was nothing he could do about it- not now. Zodyl knew everyone in the city, he could probably find Zanka if Jabber asked. The issue with that was that he’d have to reveal… everything else. He would not be happy if he found out that Jabber had not only brought a stranger on one of his jobs, but had accidentally handed a healthy amount of incriminating evidence to a fucking Nijiku.
Basically, it was over.
He let himself mope for a little bit longer before pulling himself out of bed. Maybe he could tease the info from someone? Couldn’t be that hard, right? Nothing was impossible for Jabber Wonger, right?
Jabber looked at himself in the mirror, taking a moment to assess the damage. His hair was a disaster- he hadn’t put on his bonnet or anything on before just falling into bed because he hates himself, apparently. He looked pretty beaten up- better than usual, actually, but the hickies bruising his skin were obnoxiously noticeable. Say what you will about him, Zanka knew how to give a guy a good time. There was also an unfamiliar chain and pendant hanging around his neck. Silver- shaped sort of like a tuning fork. No clue where that could’ve come from.
He tugged a t-shirt on, stooping to grab his phone off the ground. The screen protector already had a few cracks and thankfully throwing it across the room hadn’t added any more.
Right. Twenty hundred billion thousand (five) new messages from Cthoni. As if he needed to deal with one more thing. He opened his texts.
Thoni (2:34 PM)
You took my car.
I’m killing you.
Seriously how could you.
You’re never touching it again.
You’re lucky your bf is responsible.
Jabber’s eyes widened as he read the messages, frantically typing a reply.
Jabber (3:16 PM)
WHAT BF
WAS IT ZANKA
I GOTTA TALK TO HIM IS HE WITH YOU
He watched the screen for a minute, chewing on his thumb nail, sitting back on the edge of his bed, leg bouncing. No thought bubble, no read receipt, where was she. Didn’t she realize this was important?
He clicked on the call button, letting it ring. It went twice before getting sent to voicemail. Rolling his eyes, he hung up and went to check his messages. There were the three dots:
Thoni (3:18 PM)
Keep it in your pants.
He’s not with me he left.
Jabber (3:18 PM)
whered he go?????
Thoni (3:19 PM)
To find you I think.
Jabber stood up at that message, now pacing in tight circles. Fuck, had he misjudged? Did Zanka remember last night?? What if he was…
No, no, no. Surely not? Maybe. God if only he’d dealt with him last night.
Jabber thought carefully about his reply. Cthoni might not officially be a Raider anymore, but she still talked to Zodyl. Zodyl could never know about this. Jabber was already up to his knees in shit with that man- last thing he needed right now was to be out of a job.
Jabber (3:20 PM)
you know where specifically
Thoni (3:20 PM)
No.
Jabber (3:20 PM)
youre so helpful thoni thanks
Thoni (3:20 PM)
No I’m not you stole my car.
Jabber reacted to the message with the little, purple, pixelated, video game guy emoji and closed the thread. This was going nowhere.
Jabber took a deep breath, calming himself. This works, actually. If Zanka was looking for Jabber, he’d find him eventually. Then he could handle this. And get Mankira back.
Hopefully he wouldn’t be bringing the cavalry with him. And you know what? If he did, that might be ok. Something new, a new challenge, if you will. A good fight for sure. Always leave it to Mr. Bad Attitude to keep things interesting.
He finally opened the message from Zodyl.
Zodyl (9:00 AM)
The package was received. Come by my office to discuss.
Shit, what did that mean?
Jabber (3:21 PM)
I’ll be there in an hour!
Zodyl immediately reacted to the message with a thumbs up.
Jabber started pacing again.
His finger felt almost naked- he missed Mankira’s weight.
How much did Zodyl know? This probably had something to do with the Angels. He could bullshit something. Probably.
God, he was so fucked, he was so fucked…
What was he doing, this wasn’t like him. He didn't panic.
He probably should get food. From what he could remember, last thing he’d eaten in the last 24 hours was a handful of pills.
Ok- so he’d go get food, then go chat with Zodyl. Light work. It’d all work out, it always did.
He’d just get lunch at the deli. The Raider’s moved most of their… income through Raider Deli. Despite being a front, the food wasn’t halfway bad. Some might even say it was good. Plus Fu would usually give him stuff for free- the guy was lowkey scared of him. Heh.
He took the bus like he normally did- a colorful bunch of people, all unique in their own way. Jabber loved people watching on the bus; public transit was the only place you could see a lady in a business suit sitting next to a teenager in pajamas.
His thumb kept going to rub the empty spot that his ring used to sit on. He genuinely couldn’t believe he’d been so dumb as to just… give it to a literal stranger.
A fun stranger? Yes. An interesting stranger? Sure. A stranger he’d be down to fuck around with again? Definitely. In fact, he planned on fucking around with Zanka again- he hoped Mr. Bad Attitude would hand his ass to him when he tried to get Mankira back. Though he still would end up with the ring… he just hoped it’d be a fight first.
Probably would. From what he remembered, the guy was a bit of a sadist. Though he could have been imagining that. It all still felt like a fever dream. Honestly though, if Attitude was down, he’d be cool with continuing whatever they’d been up to last night. It’d been a second since a guy had been that much fun- Zanka certainly didn’t hold back.
They’d also been completely wasted, so…
It was probably dumb. Never hurt to think about, though.
As if summoned, Jabber received a text moments after getting of the bus.
Fu (3:49 PM)
JABBER some guys looking for you he doesnt look happy what do I say should I tell him to leave idk
Well. That had been fast.
Jabber could feel deep in his gut that the guy was none other than Zanka Nijiku. It was like a weight lifted off his chest- looks like he’d be getting Mankira back sooner than expected.
._.
Jabber stares at Zanka, studying his face, his body, his overall demeanor. He had been for the past twenty minutes.
The fight had been disappointing, to say the least. The man could barely stand, let alone put up a solid fight. What a light weight.
He’d come alone- which had been surprising. He also did not seem to recognize Jabber. Like at all. He really didn’t remember last night. Made Jabber wonder why he was looking for him in the first place.
Even while under some semblance of sleep, Zanka looks exhausted. Massive dark circles rest under his eyes, he looks a shade paler than Jabber remembers. It really brings out the bruises peppering his skin. His head lolls against his shoulder, a trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. He’s also sort of gross- he’s all greasy and seemingly hadn’t changed from last night. Though, Jabber must admit, he looks nice in his jacket.
That being said, he hadn’t been totally crazy the evening before. Zanka definitely isn’t ugly. Wash up a bit and he’d be down right attractive.
What Jabber is really drawn to is his overall vibe. Even unconscious, he feels like Mr. Bad Attitude wants to fight him. Oh, he wants to fight him so bad. Sure, he’d gone down easily, but was that really fair? He had a bad hangover and a low alcohol tolerance- something Jabber could easily fix.
He has no idea what to do next. Sure, he needs to take care of this little loose end- but how? Should he kill him? He doesn’t really want to kill him. Might have to. Wouldn’t be the first time.
They’re still sitting in the alleyway behind the deli. Jabber really hadn’t thought this through- he’d kinda just gone with the flow. You know. Bait him, fight him, poison him, get his ring back… and yeah. The metaphorical “flow” had kinda stopped there.
He’d sat Zanka up against the fence, hidden from most viewers by the dumpster, then plopped down next to him, ready to come up with *a plan*.
Instead he’d gotten distracted.
And now Zanka’s eyes are fluttering open- blue and angry- just like last night. Jabber perks up, ready to brawl.
Zanka still can’t seem to move, he glances around, confused, before he lands on Jabber.
They stare at each other, Jabber grinning, Zanka glaring.
It’s kinda romantic, if you squint.
“Wha,” Zanka slurs, “Wha’dya do ta me?”
“I sent ya to lala land for a minute,” Jabber smiles, “Didya like it?”
Zanka narrows his eyes, “Wha?”
Jabber cackles.
“Ma neckl’ce. Give i’ back,” Zanka’s looking down at Jabber’s neck.
He follows his gaze to find- ah ha. So that’s where that came from- he should’ve guessed.
Jabber fingers the pendent, looking back at Zanka, “This?”
Zanka grunts, stirring- the poison seems to be wearing off.
“Is mine- Give i’ back or I’ll make ya.”
Awesome. Leverage.
“Well, if I give this to you, how will I know you won’t go wagging your tongue to your little Hellguard buddies?” Jabber croons.
Zanka’s anger is suddenly and completely consumed by an overwhelming amount of disgust and confusion. He looks so utterly offended that Jabber second guesses everything he’s assumed from the last name.
This wasn’t a Hellguard. Matter a fact, that face says he hates the Hellguard. Sure, he hadn’t seemed like one last night, but Jabber had assumed that was because he was drunk to hell and back.
He tilts his head, “Who are you, pal?”
“I ain’t no Hellguard, that’s for sure,” Zanka scoffs. A very touchy subject, it seems.
He’s regaining the capacity to move, lifting his head to get a better look at Jabber. His hand tries to lift towards Jabber’s throat, but falls back into his lap.
Jabber watches, grin still playing at his face, “Now, I wonder what your story is, Zanka?”
“Story is I’m abouta beat yer sorry ass,” Zanka grunts, trying to push of the ground. He fails, obviously.
“Nope, can’t have that,” Jabber singsongs, getting onto Zanka’s lap, knees pinning his hands to the cement. The proximity is a bonus.
Zanka stares at him in disbelief, anger flirting with something else in his eyes. Oh hohohoho, does he like this? Jabber grins.
“A Nijiku but not a Hellguard?”
Zanka’s eyes widen. Incredibly touchy subject, then.
“I ain’t ever drinkin’ again,” He mutters under his breath, glancing away.
“What was that?”
“Yer a fuckin’ asshole.”
“Yeah, use them pretty words.”
“… The hell’s yer problem?”
“My problem’s that I can’t have ya narcing,” Jabber sighs.
Zanka furrows his goofy eyebrows, confused.
“Just gimme my necklace,” He snaps.
“How do I know ya won’t tell on me?”
“More ya keep me here, the more I wanna kill you myself,” He yells.
Jabber giggles.
That seems to be some kind of breaking point for Zanka, who lunges forward and snags the pendant with his teeth.
Jabber starts full on laughing, trying to yank the necklace from Zanka’s jaw. It doesn’t work- this guy’s got strong grip.
“Damn, what else them teeth do,” Jabber cackles.
Zanka growls, like a fucking freak, and manages to shove off the fence, forcing Jabber’s back onto the ground. Now that his hands are free, he grabs the necklace, unclenching his jaw.
“Do you ever shut up?” He shouts, yanking at the necklace and breaking the chain.
God, he’d be so perfect if he didn’t know so much. “So much” being pretty much nothing- but Zodyl didn’t know that, and if he ever found out about this loose end… well. It would be over for Jabber.
Jabber easily manages to flip their positions- Zanka is still pretty weak. He’s clutching that necklace with an iron grip, though.
Jabber’s about to drop some other smart-ass quip when he’s interrupted by the sound of a car in the alleyway. He looks up, expecting to see some unsuspecting bystander.
Instead he sees a van.
It stops a few feet away.
Jabber feels adrenaline setting into his blood.
More than four people get out of the van. Way more- all armed and wearing the tell-tale masks.
He’d been so concerned about Zodyl and Zanka that he’d forgotten threat number one: Angels out for vengeance.