Zanka woke up slowly, and with an absolutely splitting headache. He briefly cracked one eye open before shutting it instantly, and even with his room as dark as it was, his door must have been open, because the flourescent lights in the hallway were killing him. He didnt have them in his room for exactly that reason, prefering the softer, warmer light lamps provided. The cold flourescence, aside from just being ugly, reminded him too much of the academy, of the Hell Guard.
He tried to open his eyes again and gave up near immediately as pain pounded in his head. He hadn't felt this bad waking up in a long time. Maybe ever. The closest he'd gotten was probably the one time Riyo had managed to convince him to steal a full bottle of gin from Tamsy and get absolutely hammered one night in her room to celebrate his birthday. Honestly, it had been fun, albeit extremely embarassing. They took turns doing shots with chaser stolen from the kitchen until most of the bottle was gone, and when the alcohol finally hit mid card game it hit hard. They were both quickly plastered, and her good mood was contagious while intoxicated, and they'd spent the night laughing, doing bad karaoke with arms swung around each others shoulders, and had gotten so loud that someone had banged on the wall and yelled at them to shut up, which only made them laugh harder. It had turned out he was something of an affectionate drunk, and with filter and inhibitions gone he'd told Riyo how much he appreciated her over and over, and even how much he wished she was his sister instead, which would have been so much more embarassing if not for the fact that she had cried big drunk tears and hugged him saying she was his sister, and had always wanted a brother like him. They'd fallen asleep sprawled across each other on the bed, and that was how Enjin had found them the next morning after they didn't show up for breakfast. The following hours were absolute hell, and had them taking turns in front of the toilet bowl, an exasperated Enjin bringing them water and light food. They'd both had to be on dish duty for a month, and Zanka had sworn off alcohol entitely, while Riyo still snuck drinks occasionally, but never to a degree like that again.
The memory still made him smile, despite the pulsing pain still making itself known in his skull. Ugh, he really needed to close that door. He could vaguely hear voices to his left, and wasn't keen on someone walking past his room and seeing him laying pathetically on the floor.
...Actually, why was he on the floor? He wracked his brain trying to remember what he'd done last night that could have ended up with him in this position, but all he remembered was going out on a job with Team Akuta that morning. The digging trash beast mob, the giant mole-gator-thing, splitting up to- Oh no. He opened his eyes for real this time, ignoring the pain, blinking harshly til his eyes finally focused only to be met with a damp, dark, concrete ceiling, connected to the ground in front of him with a series of long iron bars. No. No no nonono.
He shot up into a sitting position and instantly regretted it, cradling his head and feeling feeling sticky, half dried blood at his temple as he tried to focus on his breathing. Right. The baton. Piece of shit tranqualizer. Crazy guy. Shit. His TEAM. What had happened to them after he'd just passed out? He couldn't even warn them properly. Were they here? Damnit. He should've been faster. Smarter. Enjin trusted him to go alone and this is what he does? If he'd gone for his choker right away maybe he could've said something actually useful instead of whatever mess had left his mouth instead.
His choker! He reached for it, only to find his wrists bare, and upon the movement of his shoulders he noticed a much larger, different piece of metal encircling his neck. Some sort of collar, so big and cumbersome he was shocked it took him this long to realize it was there. He pulled at it, a sharp pain at the back of his neck instantly making him regret that decision. He needed to get out of here. Now.
He stood up on wobbly legs, using the bars in front of him to keep his balance, and accompanying the brutal headache was now nausea, fantastic. He was pissed. He took a breather, forehead pressing up against the cold metal bars, and finally actually processed the voices he'd been tuning out.
Well, voice, singular. A too familiar, lilting, almost melodic timbre to his left that hadn't stopped or slowed since he first got assaulted with conciousness.
"-ful getting up so fast tough guy, thats a pretty nasty headwound ya got. Who gave it to you? Ya been fighting other people? You're gonna break my heart Zan-Zan, I thought we had something special."
Zanka grit his teeth, turning and looking over at who he already knew was there. When they finally locked eyes Jabber looked absolutely giddy. He was in a cell too, next to his, the same metal collar strapped around his neck, trapped just like Zanka was and yet still looking like the cat that got the canary. Zanka could feel all the frustration and loathing he'd been pushing down rise up to the surface all at once and it was all-consuming.
"GREAT! Just great! As if this could get any better!" he bit out, seething. Of course he was stuck here, injured, in a damp, dirty cell, and of course he was stuck here with fucking Jabber of all people.
Jabber whistled appreciatively, "Man, you're in a mood today. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" and cackled at his own joke. Zanka was gonna strangle him. He was gonna rip out those bars with his bare hands and use them to beat Jabber to death.
...Though actually, ripping the bars out wasn't such a bad idea. Based on how damp the ceiling seemed, and the muffled echo of Jabbers voice reverberating around them, they were probably underground. Meaning hopefully if the bars were old enough they'd have started to rust at the connection points, and maybe with enough force he could pop them free. He moved along the wall, testing each bar with his hands, pushing and pulling for any sort of give. They didn't budge.
"Awww c'mon, dont ignore me." Jabber whined, smile evident in his voice. Zanka very pointedly ignored him.
Maybe he just needed more force. He picked what he thought was a good spot, and after checking the distance and his stance, he shifted his weight, and sent a powerful side kick with his heel into the bars, the sound ringing out loudly, doing nothing to help his headache. Nothing happened. He moved a few steps down and tried again.
"I already tried that, man." Jabber drawled, bored. "They're solid. Though, it is fun to watch you try. Maybe you should use those kicks on me instead~"
Zanka ignored him even more agressively, and methodically kept trying new areas to kick with his full strength, getting more frustrated as his leg started to go numb and tingly from all the vibrating force the bars gave back, head still pounding.
"Its not gonna woork~" Jabber singsonged, and Zanka couldn't help himself but mutter a bitter "yeah, for youmaybe." under his breath before trying another kick, harder still. Jabber just laughed, delighted.
"Man, you really are in a mood today, huh! Who knew all it took to get you this pissed off was just a good old fashioned kidnapping! I mean, you really look like you're gonna murder someone. I'm almost jealous!"
Zanka wanted to scream. He wanted to rip his hair out. He wanted to know if his team was safe. He wanted out of the godamn cell, and more than anything else he wanted Jabber to shut. up.
He had one last hail mary. He backed up, almost to the far end of his cell, and broke into a sprint. He jumped, both legs in the air, body compressing, as he double jump-kicked a single bar with everything he had left in him. It connected, transferring all his force and momentum to the metal as it rung, and his body crashed to the floor, air momentarily forced out of his lungs at the impact and making his head errupt with more pain, and even without looking he could tell it wasn't enough. The bars remained solid. Zanka squeezed his eyes closed and just took some breaths, trying to find something, anything, to ground himself with.
"Damn, that was some force! You should use some more kicks in our fights, I reeeally wanna feel what those legs can do to me!" Jabber breathed, almost dreamily. Freak.
Zanka gave himself one more second to just lay there, taking a slow breath in and pushing it out through his nose, before he set his jaw and sat back up. He was done moping. The bars were a bust, but there had to be something else. Maybe a lock he could pick, or a guard he could trick or bribe. He didn't exactly know what he'd bribe them with persay, but the thought was something. And evidently, Jabber had been here longer than him, or at least had been awake longer than him, so if he was gonna run his mouth off anyway Zanka might as well use him for information.
He looked over, Jabber's eyes already on him. Locked in on him, just like they always were. He ignored the spike of something that went through his core at the intensity Jabber always looked at him with; a look that always left him feeling exposed and trapped, like a pinned bug. He sighed, swallowing his pride.
"Fine, I'll bite. Whats the deal with this place, why're we here?"
"No clue." Jabber responded casually, shrugging and sticking his tongue out.
Zanka wondered if he moved fast enough if he'd be able to wrap his hands around Jabbers throat through the bars separating them. Though after a moment clearly reveling in Zankas expression, Jabber continued.
"I've only been here like, uhhhh, a day? Maybe two? They gave me two meals and I've fallen asleep at least once so. yeah." He shrugged again.
Okay, the strangling could wait. For now. And only just barely. Zanka took a breath. He could work with this.
"Okay. Who's they? How many people? Did they say anything or just give ya the food? Did they open the door to give it to you?"
"Hmmm I dunno, those are a lot of questions, what do I get in return?" Jabber's eyes twinkled.
Zanka felt his eye twitch.
"My foot up yer ass."
"Promise??"
Ugh. This was impossible. HE was impossible. Zanka threw his hands up, giving up for now and turned around to go lay back down in the corner furthest away from Jabber, who was still laughing.
Maybe this was all some horrible nightmare and he'd wake up in the back of the cleaners car, music playing softly as the engine hummed and took the tired givers back to HQ. Maybe he'd wake up with Rudo's head on his shoulder, drooling onto his uniform as Riyo tried to angle herself into the middle section enough to take a photo. He didn't think he'd mind that this time, even though it was gross and embarassing and the kid probably had rabies or something, and Riyo and Enjin would definitely tease them nonstop with the photo.
The idea that he might not ever see them again suddenly occured to him and it felt like the floor had fallen out below him, a cold, seizing terror suddenly gripping his heart. A grief that threatened to swallow him whole. He pushed it back immediately. He wasn't gonna give up that easy. They weren't here, at least as far as he could see, and he hadbeen pretty far away when he got attacked, so there was a good chance they hadn't been taken at all. They were probably looking for him right now, all he needed to do was wait it out, or bust out of this place and make it easier for them. He was still alive, and as long as he was alive he wasn't gonna do something as lame as give up. He'd get back to them. No matter what it took.
He kept thinking of his team as he closed his eyes, sleep beginning to take him once more. The teasing, the bickering, stealing food of each others plates, petty arguments, teaming up to mess with one another. The quiet, unspoken love and care. Riyo's laugh, Rudo's determination, Enjins trust. All his memories playing and overlapping as he slowly drifted back to sleep, body and mind exhausted. He would see them again. Or die trying.
...
Zanka woke up to the most annoying voice in the world calling his name, and in retaliation immediately rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. The ground was cold and uncomfortable, and little pebbles were digging into his cheek but he couldnt bring himself to care. Eyes closed, he mentally sighed at the now concrete knowledge that the whole thing had not, in fact, been some sort of stress-induced fever dream.
Jabber got louder and Zanka stubbornly kept his eyes closed. If being awake meant dealing with Jabber he was going to spend as much time sleeping as possible. Plus, his body felt like he could still probably get at least another hour of rest, something he was desperate to take advantage of. He'd almost drifted off again, when something small and solid had suddenly flown through the air and collided with the back of his shoulder, making him shoot up into a sitting position and glare at Jabber.
"What is yer- did you just throw your shoe at me?!"
Jabber just grinned at him, guiltless. "You were ignoring me, what was I supposed to do?"
"I was sleeping."
"Same difference. How's the head? Looks better"
Infuriatingly, his head did feel a lot better. There was still a fair amount of pain, especially when his fingers grazed the wound, but nowhere near as bad as it had been yesterday. Was it yesterday? His thoughts still seemed a little hazy, like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong spot.
"Shut up. As if you care." He said, with much less bite than he meant to. Jabber didnt respond immediately, looking at Zanka with that same pinning gaze, though this time it had something dark in it just below the surface.
"I wanna know if someone else can beat you as bloody as I can. And if they hit you hard enough to mess your brain up I wanna know so I can take my time ripping them to pieces with Mankira."
The serious tone in Jabbers voice caught Zanka off guard. Was Jabber seriously being...what, protective? In his own, weird, fucked up way? Nah, not protective. Possesive. The hypocrisy of it all made Zankas head swim.
"Right, and I guess it's only okay when you do it" He said sarcastically. Jabber nodded.
"You're mine," –Zanka scoffed, but Jabber continued, unphased– "and I'm yours. I wanna see you get all beat up and bloody by my hand, and I want you to lose yourself doing the same to me, 'til we both reach our fullest potential on the brink of death. You still have to beat me, I'd be pissed as hell if you let some random incapacitate that brain 'a yours with a cheap shot."
Zanka just blinked as he struggled for words. It was way too early for this. He hated how honest Jabber always was, how unafraid he was to say stupid, embarassing things like that. And he hated even more how he understood what he meant.
Jabber was still looking at him, looking right through him. He needed to say something.
"...Shut up. I don't 'belong' to anyone. Much less yer sorry ass." Was what he eventually settled on. It sounded lame even to him. Damn it.
Jabber hummed, a growing smile on his face.
"Not gonna say anythin about me being yours? Careful Zan-zan, you'll give a guy the wrong idea~" He purred, and with Zanka's withering glare, he laughed, and the tension was broken again.
Distant footsteps echoed from the right side of the hallway and drew both their attention. Jabber stood up, stretching, as several of his joints popped at a volume that was slightly concerning.
"Oh boy, breakfast!"
Zanka stayed tense, ready for his first real look at his captors. Two people came into view carrying trays of food, both men. One slightly taller than the other, both surprisingly well built. That was troubling, not only because it would make escape that much more difficult, but also because to get a physique like that on the ground required constant access to good, nutritious food, which was only available to those in powerful organizations or those strong enough to be regularly hired by them. Plus, neither looked like the guy who'd shot the dart at him. So whatever he'd been pulled into was definitely bigger than just a couple kidnappers. They both had small remotes on their belts with two buttons, and pistols on their hips. The sight of the guns made Zanka's stomach churn. Were they Hell Guard? They didn't walk like military but it ticked all the other boxes. He really hoped they weren't. If they were, did they know who he was? Though if they did, why was he in the cell? And why was Jabber there too?
"Move back against the wall." The taller of the two commanded, breaking the silence.
He stared down the guard, unmoving. Testing his limits. Every piece of info was valuable. Jabber also didnt move, though he was watching Zanka, excitement growing on his face as he watched the standoff.
"Both of you, now. Final warning, or face disciplinary action."
When they still didnt move, he nodded to the other guard, and in sync they reached down to the remotes on their belts. Zanka tensed, and with a click his world lit up with pain. The shock lasted maybe 3 seconds, but it was enough to bring him to the floor, gasping, unused to that type of pain.
Jabber lay on the floor of his own cell, panting, a dopey smile on his face and one hand on his crotch, and Zanka's face turned red as he suddenly realized why Jabber hadn't moved. God, he really was a freak.
"Mmmm yeah, hahh, one more, do it again." Jabber begged, finally looking at the two men. Ironically, the guards seemed more disturbed by this than Zanka, professional facades cracking slightly as they looked to each other with poorly concealed confusion and alarm.
Zanka remembered how he'd felt when he was first exposed to Jabbers....tendencies, and despite everything felt a small pang of hysterical sympathy for their captors, who clearly wanted to punish him in some way while having no clue how to do so effectively. In the end, they settled for keeping a gun trained on a grinning Jabber while the other guard unlocked a small section at the bottom of the door, not much bigger than a doggy door, and slid the tray of food in. Zanka had really been hoping the "up against the wall" routine meant they'd need to fully unlock the cell doors to feed them, but no such luck. And the fact that they were being so careful was even worse.
When they moved over to him he begrudingly shuffled towards the back wall. He had briefly entertained the idea of pretending to enjoy it the way jabber had to make them less inclined to do it again, but he abandonned the idea almost immediately. Not only did he doubt his ability to act convincingly while being electrocuted, but between being zapped or being shot he'd definitely prefer the former, as much as his muscles ached. Plus, the idea of how absolutely insufferable Jabber would become if he thought Zanka had turned into a mascochist like him made him shudder. He watched as they opened the door and slid the tray in, the taller guard not taking his hand off the remote the entire time, eyes trained on Zanka.
With both trays deposited and cells re-locked, the guards left again, and Zanka came forward to check out the food they'd been given. It wasn't much, a bowl filled with some kind of soup and another filled with what he could already tell was overcooked rice. A large plastic cup of water in the corner rounded off the meal. The lack of utensils was annoying, mostly for the rice, but zanka decided to worry about that later, taking a sip of the soup. It wasn't the worst food he'd had, but even calling it good was being generous. Still though, he hadn't eaten in a while, and he supposed beggars couldnt be choosers. He took another sip, and swallowed, trying to convince himself it wasn't that bad. Maybe even enjoyable, for the right pallate.
"Damn, this soup sucks shit." remarked Jabber suddenly from beside him and Zanka thanked whatever god was listening that he didnt have food in his mouth at the moment as a harsh laugh wrenched its way out of his chest without his permission. The absurdity of the whole situation hit him all at once as another laugh escaped, and another. Now that he'd started, he couldnt seem to stop. He doubled over, feeling absolutely hysterical as the mental image of the guards' panicked reaction to Jabber's electricity-induced hard on sent him into another round of choking laugher. He looked over at Jabber, who had completely frozen, a true, unadulterated look of shock on his features as he just stared at Zanka like he'd never seen him before. Which of course just made it harder to stop. Zanka's stomach hurt from laughing, unused to it, and he wiped tears from his eyes as he tried to calm himself down, taking long wheezing breaths, before he got another look at Jabbers face, still frozen in that stupid shocked expression, and he dissolved into another fit. He collapsed onto his back as he finally started to get his breathing under control, staring at the ceiling. He needed to get it together, he probably looked insane. Maybe he was. Maybe that baton hit to the head actually had knocked something important.
"God. This is so fucking stupid." he choked out in between wheezes. And it was. All of it, from start to finish.
He rubbed his hands over his face, mulling over just how quickly everything had gone to shit. How was this his life?
"Hey, give me some of your soup." Jabber said, breaking his train of thought.
Zanka blinked.
"What? You just said you hated it, and you have yer own bowl anyway, fuck off."
"Nahh, come on, they clearly didnt put in mine whatever they put in yours. What is it? Neurotoxin? Poison? Hallicinogen? What does it feel like? Ya gotta tell me! Ya gotta let me try!" Jabbers voice increased in intensity as his questions did, going from subdued to a now obsessive excitement.
Of course Jabber thought he'd lost it due to being drugged. He guessed it made sense, since the only time the other had seen him in a similar state – the only time anyone had seen him in a state like that – had been in the belly of the trash beast, mindlessly high on Jabbers toxins and barely fighting off death.
"It ain't drugged."
"Yeah right, c'monnn Zan-zan, dont be greedy." He honest-to-god pouted, a kicked puppy expression on his face that would make Zanka want to laugh again if he didnt feel completely and utterly drained.
"Just a bite, c'mon man. I've been so generous, givin you so many delicous poisons and you can't even share a single bite of yours with your good friend Jabber?"
Passively, Zanka thought it was almost impressive how many untrue statements Jabber could cram into a single sentence.
Jabber continued to beg, and as much as he reveled in having the upper hand for once, he got the sense that Jabber really wouldn't let up, even if ignored, and Zanka's headache was only getting worse.
"Fine. Gimme some of yer rice."
The bowls were too large to fit between the gaps in the bars while still being horizontal, but the gaps were wide enough for Jabbers hands to slide through easily, handing over what looked to be half of his remaining rice, not that there was too much left. The guy must eat like a maniac.
"Okay, now keep your bowl by the bars. If this drips on the floor I'm not givin ya any more."
Jabber nodded eagerly. Zanka took the rice and dunked it in his soup, keeping his fingers cupped and moving it quickly and carefully over the few inches to the bars, trying to drop it in Jabbers raised bowl.
Instead, he was suddenly met with Jabbers mouth wrapping around his fingers instead. He yanked back his hand on instinct more than anything, and the wet pop his fingers made sliding from Jabbers tightly sealed lips was obscene. Jabber, still making eye contact, swallowed and licked his lips, lazy smile growing, and he looked real proud of himself. Zanka was gonna have an aneurysm. He could tell his face was bright red and burning, and it was like his brain had short-circuted. Anger, surprise, disgust, and a burning heat in his stomach as he remembered the split-second feel of Jabbers tongue pressing on his fingers all fought for his attention at once. He felt violated, and angry, and he wanted to get him back, and then another flush overtook him as he realized his first instinct was wanting to shove his fingers back in Jabbers mouth, further, more agressively, making him take it as retribution.
...Maybe that soup was laced with something. Maybe there was something in the air. Or maybe it was the concussion. There had to be something. He hadnt even been here for more than a day or two and he already felt like he was going insane, though maybe that was just Jabber's effect on him. He always seemed to be able to tear down Zankas perfectly constructed persona with ease, knowing exactly what buttons to push, pulling the parts of himself he hated up to the surface from where they were buried until they consumed him, until he was left exposed. Raw. He despised it. Despised Jabber, who was still looking at him, infuriating smile still on his face, until he seemed to realize something, and suddenly frowned.
"Man, that was just regular soup."
Zanka moved before he could think, his fist speeding past the bars and slamming into Jabbers nose as he felt a wet crunch of cartilidge beneath his knuckles.
Jabber fell back, hands cupped over the bloody mess on his face, as a crazed laugh escaped him. He laid there, staring at the ceiling, giggling and struggling for breath, and Zanka hated how it mirrored the positions they'd both been in just a few minutes prior.
After a minute or so, Jabber slowly sat back up, and Zanka felt a dark satasfaction at just how much blood covered the lower half of Jabbers face, nose crooked and clearly broken.
"Ooh man. Ooh MAN that was good. You really got me!"
He kept pressing his fingers to the stream of blood and pulling away to look down at it, like he couldnt process what he was seeing. Or like he just wanted to see it over and over. Probably the latter.
"Zanka," he breathed his name like a prayer, "you make me bleed so good. So perfect."
There was a desperate heat in his eyes, and unsurprisingly, a tent in his pants. He shuffled over the bars, pressing himself up against them.
"Do it again, you know you wanna. Lemme see that brutality I know you have in you!"
Zanka just glared at him, fists still clenched, knuckles slightly stinging.
"Yeah, yeah, that's it, keep looking at me like that. Like I'm a bug you wanna crush under your boot" Jabber moaned.
This was all too much. Way too much. There were no good answers, no solutions, and the anger that came with that knowledge just made him wanna hit Jabber again, which only made him angrier since he couldn't even do that without playing right into his hands and giving him exactly what he wanted. Zanka could feel his teeth grinding against each other from how tight he was clenching his jaw.
Instead, Zanka picked up his tray and turned around. He walked to the far end of the cell, and sat facing the wall. He felt a bit stupid doing so, but anything was better than having to look at Jabber right now, especially because he could still hear him panting and groaning behind him, calling Zanka's name with that stupid breathiness that made his stomach flip.
It wasn't long before –mercy of all mercies– footsteps sounded out again from the far end of the hall, and craning his head to look, Zanka had never been so grateful to see two people he hated. When they reached Jabbers cell, they paused briefly as they took in the situation, before seemingly deciding to just take it in stride, likely deciding it was none of their buisiness. Lucky them.
"Jabber Wonger. Up against the wall"
"One minute man, I'm so close." He said dreamily, and the shorter guard put a warning hand on his remote. Apparently they hadn't learned from last time, because all it did was make Jabber more excited.
"Ohh yeah, I think a good shock would get me there, c'mon, do it." He begged.
Either the guard had been bluffing, or he'd just remembered what Jabber was like, because he took his hand off the remote.
"Move against the back wall now, final warning."
Jabber just waited, visibly excited. The guard, in response, simply hit a different button on his remote, then put a hand to his choker.
"Cease all meals and water to subject G012-a for 24 hours, effective immediately."
Ah, so that was their new method of dealing with him. It hadbeen a bluff.
A short, affirmative noise crackled out of the choker and the guard stepped back, watching. At first, it didn't seem like anything else had happened, save for Jabber's fervent excitement slowly dimming at the loss of a painful opportunity. Though, after a few seconds, it became clear it wasn't just dissapointment slowing Jabbers movements, as his eyes began to droop and he ungracefully collapsed onto his back once more. So thats what the second button was, some sort of tranqualizer. Probably even the same one Zanka himself had fallen victim to when he was first taken. It must have been pretty potent to be able to do this much to Jabber, of all people. Or maybe they'd just given him a massively increased dose, knowing of his proclivities. Probably that, they'd known his name after all.
Again, the shorter guard kept a gun trained on Jabber while the other unlocked the cell door. Only they didnt open the small door this time to get the food tray back like he'd been expecting, and instead fully opened the cage and stepped inside. The muscular guard quickly manhandled Jabber onto his front, arms behind him as he tightly secured a pair of metal cuffs on them. Jabber wriggled around, still grinning, if subdued. The guard hoisted Jabber up to his feet by his joined hands harshly, in a way that made Zankas shoulderblades ache in sympathy. And then he pulled Jabber out of the cell and dragged him out and down the hallway with the other guard, leaving Zanka alone in the deafening quiet of his cage.