Chapter Text
The passing days had done absolutely nothing to quiet the chaotic energy bouncing around inside Jabber’s chest. If anything, being away from the base on a prolonged run had only given him way too much time to think, plot, and dramatically over-analyze every single interaction he’d ever had with a certain stoic omega.
The morning air cut sharply against Jabber's face as he approached the towering, grim concrete exterior of the facility. He wasn't about to do something as incredibly mundane as walking through the front doors. It's not his magic. Not when his hands were completely occupied with two massive, heavily loaded shopping bags that crinkled loudly with every step, stuffed to the absolute brim with items that were very clearly, unapologetically meant to be gifts.
Slipping into the blind spot of the lower security perimeter, Jabber smirked.
Time to move.
With a sudden, familiar surge of intent, the dark energy of his Jinki surged down his arms. The ten solid metal bands of Mankira shifted, interlocking and snapping into their lethal, razor-sharp claw configurations. For a masochist like him, the brutal, jagged design of the claws wasn't just a tool; it was a thrill. He loved the raw, violent bite of his own weapon, the chaotic rush it gave his veins every time he called upon it.
Clutching the handles of the two gift bags tightly between his fingers alongside the base of his claws, Jabber launched himself at the wall.
Scale, plant, tear, pull. His perspective blurred into a dizzying vertical sprint as he literally ran up the side of the concrete fortress. Mankira dug effortlessly into the reinforced stone, punching neat, explosive little craters into the wall as he hauled his weight upward with terrifying agility. The wind howled past his ears, and the shopping bags flapped wildly against his sides, the colorful paper and luxury packaging threatening to tear open with the sheer velocity of his ascent. He didn't care. His focus was entirely on the high ledge above, his muscles flexing as he pivoted, kicked off a ventilation pipe, and drove Mankira's claws deeper into the upper bricks to swing himself rapidly over the lip of the structure.
With a fluid, acrobatic twist, Jabber cleared the edge of the rooftop, his boots hitting the flat concrete of the terrace with a triumphant, heavy thud.
The dark claws of Mankira disengaged with a sharp metallic rattle, the ten rings settling back into their resting positions around his arms as he straightened his posture, swinging the two heavy gift bags forward with a dramatic, proud flourish.
He had expected the terrace to be empty this early. Instead, his arrival cut straight through the quiet morning air of the roof, where two figures were standing near the center layout.
Zanka and Riyo turned simultaneously at the sound of his landing.
Riyo stood with her arms crossed, her thick leg warmers bunching over her boots as her sharp eyes instantly locked onto the ridiculous spectacle of the giant, crinkling shopping bags. Beside her, Zanka stood tall and unmoving, his cold blue eyes registering Jabber's sudden, dramatic entrance with his usual unreadable, fortress-like composure.
Jabber didn't hesitate for a single fraction of a second. The moment his eyes landed on Zanka, the rest of the world—including a highly dangerous, judging lady standing right next to him—completely ceased to exist.
A manic, blindingly bright grin split across Jabber's face, his eyes shifting into the fiercely protective, utterly unhinged adoration of a hopelessly infatuated alpha. He entirely ignored the sheer absurdity of his own entrance, taking a confident, theatrical step forward as he lifted the crinkling bags in a cheerful salute.
"Hey Zan-Zan~" Jabber purred, his voice dripping with an absurdly playful, passionately crazy warmth that completely shattered the quiet stillness of the terrace.
The silence that followed his greeting was absolute poetry, and Jabber drank it in like a man starving.
He didn't care about the cold, stiff tension radiating off the two Cleaners, nor did he care that he had just scaled a vertical fortress wall like a madman. His heart was hammering against his ribs—not from the climb, but from the simple, glorious reality of having Zanka’s icy blue gaze locked entirely on him. That beautiful, unreadable stare was the ultimate drug, and Jabber could feel a manic, ecstatic shiver running straight down his spine. He wanted to push that composure, wanted to see it fracture, wanted to drown in whatever reaction Zanka gave him.
Slowly, Jabber’s eyes flicked slightly to the side, finally acknowledging the shorter girl standing next to his prize.
Riyo was still glaring at him, her arms crossed tight over her chest, her thick leg warmers anchoring her firmly to the concrete deck. She looked ready to snap him in half with her massive Jinki, and honestly, the sheer underlying threat of it gave Jabber a sick, twisted little thrill. He loved the danger. He thrived in it.
With a theatrical, sweeping bow that caused the two shopping bags to crinkle violently against the floor, Jabber tilted his head, his grin splitting wide beneath his mask.
"And hello to you too, Bang Bang Lady~" Jabber chirped, his voice dripping with an unpredictable, chaotic playfulness as he used the nickname. He gave her a lazy, two-fingered salute, completely unfazed by her lethal aura. "Don't mind me, just dropping off some essential cargo."
Before Riyo could even process the nickname, Jabber snapped his posture straight back up, his focus instantly locking back onto Zanka with the terrifying, laser-like precision of an obsessive alpha. The rest of the rooftop faded into a dull, grey blur. Zanka was the only thing in sharp focus, the only thing that mattered.
Jabber took a heavy, aggressive step forward, the territory lines between them completely dissolving as he practically preened, holding out the two massive shopping bags like a trophy. His scent, thick and possessive, flared instinctively in the morning air, marking his presence, trying to force its way into Zanka's personal perimeter.
"I bought out half of one city for you, Zan-Zan," Jabber whispered, his tone dropping from playful to deeply intense, vibrating with a desperate, heavy devotion. He took another step, his eyes wide, unblinking, and absolutely consumed by the sight of the younger brother. "Everything in here. Every single piece. I saw them, and my hands just ached until I could bring them to you. You like them, right? You have to. I spent days picking out the perfect ones just to see how they'd look in your hands."
He was standing entirely too close now, his towering frame leaning in, completely intoxicated by Zanka's proximity, waiting with a breathless, chaotic hunger for any sign of a reaction from his stoic obsession.
Jabber didn't miss a single twitch of Zanka’s frame. To anyone else, the man still looked like an unmovable block of ice, but Jabber’s obsessive eyes caught the exact moment Zanka's shoulders dropped a fraction of a millimeter. The tense, rigid defensive posture he usually held around everyone else just... melted. Seeing that silent, submissive relaxation happen only because Jabber had stepped into his space was an absolute, intoxicating rush. It made Jabber’s alpha instincts howl with pride, his chest expanding as he drank in the sight of his favorite fortress lowering its drawbridge just for him.
"You're making a mess of the rooftop again, Jabber," Zanka said, his deep, steady voice washing over Jabber like a cool wave, though there was a faint, familiar hint of amusement hidden underneath his flat tone.
"Oh, come on, Zan-Zan! A little crinkling paper never hurt anyone!" Jabber laughed, the sound bright and entirely unhinged as he stepped even closer, practically vibrating with energy. "Besides, I couldn't just walk through the front doors like a boring civilian. Not with all this gold!"
Riyo let out a loud, dramatic sigh from behind Zanka, crossing her arms even tighter over her chest, though her eyes were glued to the sheer volume of the bags. "You're completely insane. You scale a fortress wall just to bring him... what is all that anyway? Did you rob a luxury city?"
"I didn't rob anyone, Bang Bang Lady! I paid for every single bit with my own hard-earned cash!" Jabber chirped, spinning around on his heel to face her while keeping himself close to Zanka’s side. He dropped the bags onto the concrete layout with a heavy, satisfying thud. "And it's not just for Zan-Zan. I actually brought gifts for most of the Cleaners I could remember. Your boss, the lady in the door, Mary Poppins... everyone's getting something. I'm practically a saint today!"
Zanka looked down at the massive bags, a small, subtle brow raising. "You bought gifts for the entire division?"
"Every single one of them! Well, the ones I don't hate," Jabber clarified with a wicked, wide grin beneath his mask. Then, his eyes snapped directly onto Riyo, his head tilting with a sudden, dramatic pout. "And yes, before you ask, I actually brought something for you too, Bang Bang Lady!"
Riyo blinked, genuinely caught off guard, her sharp expression flickering into slight confusion. "For me? Why would you buy anything for me?"
"Because you're Zan-Zan's sister, obviously! Which makes you incredibly important!" Jabber complained loudly, throwing his hands up in a theatrical display of pure, chaotic frustration. "But let me tell you, it was an absolute nightmare! I was walking in circles for hours. I had no idea what to get you! What do you buy a girl who spends her time tearing up trash beast's with giant scissors? Weapons? Armor? Blood-stain remover? I was completely stumped!"
He leaned forward, dropping his voice into a gossipy, conspiratorial whisper, his eyes wide and gleaming with unpredictable energy.
"I was about to give up and just buy you a rock, until Chtoni saved my life. She saw me losing my mind in the market and gave me the absolute perfect idea. She told me, 'Hey, if you don't know what to get her, just get her beauty stuff for her hair.' So I did! I bought you all the best premium hair-care and beauty products I could find. You better appreciate it, because consulting with her took a lot of emotional energy!"
Riyo stared at him for a second, completely dumbfounded, before the tight line of her shoulders finally gave way. She let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking her head as she looked at the massive crinkling bags. The sheer absurdity of this towering, chaotic alpha losing his mind in a market over hair-care products just because she was Zanka’s sister was apparently too ridiculous to fight against. She relaxed her posture, stepping back a fraction to lean casually against the concrete ledge, but Jabber didn't miss a beat. Even as she softened, his razor-sharp, obsessive gaze tracked the movement of her striking green eyes. They stayed locked firmly on him—sharp, evaluating, and deeply protective of her brother.
Jabber loved it. The underlying threat of those green eyes watching his every move only made the game sweeter, a spicy little challenge to his territory.
But a challenge meant absolutely nothing when the grand prize was standing right next to her.
The moment Riyo stepped back, Jabber completely dismissed her existence again, spinning around to face Zanka. The chaotic, complaining tone vanished instantly, replaced by a low, purring warmth that practically vibrated in his chest. He took a slow, heavy step forward, deliberately crowding Zanka's personal space, his scent flaring with a deeply possessive, lovesick intensity as he leaned his towering frame down toward the executioner.
"But forget about them, Zan-Zan~" Jabber whispered, his voice dropping into that dangerously playful, adoring cadence that was reserved for Zanka alone. He reached out, his unhinged, wide eyes scanning every inch of the younger brother's pristine, stoic face with pure worship. "They're just the afterthoughts. You're the main event. I found this gorgeous, heavy dark silk wrap that would look absolutely breathless on your shoulders, and the moment I saw it, my hands literally started shaking because I knew it belonged to you. You're going to let me put it on you, right? I want to see exactly how it frames your pretty eyes."
Zanka didn't pull away from the sudden proximity, his cold blue gaze remaining entirely steady, though his shoulders remained beautifully relaxed under Jabber's heavy alpha aura.
"You talk too much, Jabber," Zanka murmured, his voice flat, but the lack of a reprimand or a step back was all the encouragement Jabber's twisted heart needed to leap into overdrive.
"I only talk because you're too quiet, Zan-Zan! Someone has to fill the air with how perfect you are!" Jabber laughed ecstatically, clapping his hands together before suddenly remembering one last detail. He dug a hand back into the second bag, his head tilting with a wicked, mischievous grin beneath his mask as he looked between the two siblings. "Oh! And before I forget! I actually managed to grab a little something for that scrapper you guys keep hanging around with. You know, little boy Rudo."
Riyo’s green eyes narrowed just a fraction at the nickname, though her posture stayed relaxed. "You bought a gift for Rudo?"
"Of course I did! The kid's always looking so serious, running around with all that heavy gear," Jabber chirped, throwing his arms out wide in a sweeping gesture of chaotic generosity. "I figured the little guy could use something to keep his spirits up while he's busy trying to keep up with the big leagues. See? I really am thinking about your whole little family, Zan-Zan~"
"But yeah, I just grabbed a bunch of premium sweets and imported candies for the kid," Jabber chuckled, the sound muffled but vibrating with amusement. He waved a hand dismissively in the air. "I mean, I had absolutely no clue what else to get him, but he’s basically just a kid, right? And it's a universal law—little boys love sugar! If he eats enough of it, maybe he’ll finally grow a few inches and stop looking so grumpy all the time."
Zanka let out a soft, almost imperceptible huff that was the closest he ever came to a laugh, while Riyo’s green eyes flickered.
The playful atmosphere on the terrace shifted, growing suddenly dense. Riyo straightened up from the concrete ledge, her thick leg warmers rustling against the gravel as she stepped closer. The casual, relaxed posture she had adopted moments ago tightened just a fraction, those striking green eyes boring straight into Jabber with an intense, unyielding gravity. She wasn't looking at him like a chaotic nuisance anymore; she was looking at him like an older sister protecting her blood.
"Jabber," Riyo cut in, her voice dropping its amused edge, becoming sharp and entirely serious. "Are you actually serious about Zanka? Or is this just some twisted game to pass the time?"
The question hung in the cool morning air, heavy and loaded.
Jabber froze for a fraction of a second, the theatrical waving of his hands coming to a sudden halt. Slowly, he turned his head toward her, his posture locking down. The playful, cat-like purr vanished, replaced by an aura that was suddenly raw, heavy, and suffocatingly intense. Under his mask, his eyes widened, gleaming with the terrifying, unhinged sincerity of a masochistic monster who had finally found his ultimate religion.
"Serious?" Jabber whispered, the word dragging out like a jagged blade. He let out a low, breathless laugh that sounded entirely mad, his fingers instinctively twitching as the metal rings of Mankira hummed faintly against his skin. "Oh, Bang Bang Lady... you don't even understand the half of it."
He stepped even closer to Zanka, his shadow completely swallowing the younger brother as his alpha scent flared with a desperate, crushing possessiveness.
"I don't do 'games.' Games are boring," Jabber said, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, lovesick obsession that bled straight from his soul. "Zan-Zan is the only thing that makes my blood burn. I am so violently, hopelessly ruined by him that it drives me crazy. I want his frost. I want his silence. I want him to look at me with those freezing blue eyes until it physically hurts, and then I want him to do it again. I’d let him break every single bone in my body just to watch him wipe my blood off his knuckles. He is my absolute fortress, and I am going to tear down every single wall he has until he belongs entirely to me. So yeah... I'm serious. I'm so serious it's a sickness."
The absolute, suffocating weight of his words seemed to pin the entire terrace into a vacuum. Jabber didn't blink, his chest heaving slightly as the echoes of his raw, unhinged confession vibrated against the concrete floor.
Then, the miracle happened.
Jabber’s laser-focused eyes, always scanning for the slightest crack in Zanka’s impenetrable defense, caught a sudden, magnificent shift. Right along the high, sharp edge of Zanka's cheekbones, a faint, dark crimson hue began to bloom, spreading rapidly down toward his jawline. The stoic, unmovable fortress was actually blushing. The pristine cleaner didn't pull away, didn't attack him with his staff (he would love to!), and didn't utter a single reprimand; he simply stood there, his cold blue eyes widening just a fraction as the heat on his skin betrayed the sudden, heavy racing of his heart.
Beside him, the reaction from the Bang Bang Lady was pure gold.
Riyo’s jaw literally dropped, her arms falling limply to her sides as her thick leg warmers rustled against the loose gravel. Her striking green eyes were completely wide, staring at Jabber with a look of sheer, unadulterated shock. She had clearly expected some evasive, chaotic joke, or perhaps the posturing of a typical arrogant alpha—not the terrifyingly sincere, soul-baring devotion of a masochistic monster who looked ready to bleed for her brother's amusement.
Seeing the lady that shot him in completely frozen disbelief and his prize burning with a silent, beautiful flush, made Jabber’s alpha instincts completely took the reins.
He didn't care that Riyo was watching. He didn't care about the rest of the base. Driven by a sudden, overwhelming surge of possessive hunger, Jabber closed the remaining distance between them, stepping directly into Zanka's personal perimeter until their chests almost brushed.
With a low, breathless purr, Jabber tilted his head, leaning down to deliberately press the side of his face right against Zanka’s burning cheek.
He slid his head in a slow, heavy, friction-filled rub along the smooth line of Zanka's jaw, a classic, unyielding scent-mark that made his heart explode with chaotic joy. Right there, where the skin was hottest, Jabber let his own scent flare out in a thick, unmistakable wave—the dark, heavy aroma of burnt ash and raw industrial copper. It was a chaotic, violent scent, entirely fitting for a lunatic like him, and he smeared it sutilmente but deeply across Zanka’s skin, effectively wrapping his alpha mark around the omega's senses.
The heat radiating from Zanka's blush warmed Jabber's cheek through the fabric of his mask, and the sheer, intoxicating rush of feeling of the completely submit to the marking, staying perfectly still beneath his touch, made Jabber’s fingers twitch with a sick, ecstatic shiver. Zanka was his fortress, and right now, the fortress smelled exactly like him, he loved that.
The sudden, delicious tension in the air shattered in the most perfect way possible.
Zanka didn't push him away, but the heavy scent of ash and copper marking his skin was apparently the final straw for his fiercely guarded composure. With a lightning-fast, fluid motion, Zanka’s fist shot forward, burying itself hard and deep right into Jabber’s stomach.
The blow was brutal, delivered with the mathematical precision and terrifying strength of an elite frontline defender. It was meant to completely wind him, to drop him to his knees in agonizing pain.
But for Jabber, it was absolute heaven.
A choked, breathless whimper of pure, ecstatic agony escaped the back of Jabber’s throat, immediately dissolving into a sharp, erratic fit of breathless laughter. He stumbled back a couple of steps, clutching his midsection as the raw, throbbing ache radiated through his ribs. He was trembling, his wide eyes shining with a frantic, euphoric light as he drank in the sight of his favorite person. Zanka stood perfectly still, his cold blue eyes narrowed into a dark, piercing glare, his knuckles still tight. To anyone else, it looked like pure annoyance, but Jabber knew better. He could see it in the rigid, dominant set of Zanka’s jaw, the subtle, lingering shadow of dark satisfaction bleeding through his icy armor. Zanka was a closet sadist, a beautiful, hidden monster who only unleashed that punishing weight when Jabber pushed him just far enough to crave it.
"Don't you dare to... get cocky, Jabber," Zanka muttered, his deep voice dropping into a low, threatening rumble that made Jabber’s blood completely sing with pleasure.
Beside them, the terrace fell into a long, agonizingly dense silence.
Riyo didn't move. For several long, unbroken seconds, her striking green eyes slowly drifted from the flushed, dark glare on her brother's face back to Jabber, who was still wheezing and giggling through the pain. She took in the chaotic, bruised laughter of the alpha, the heavy possessive scent still hanging in the morning air, and the absolute lack of genuine hostility between them despite the violent punch.
Slowly, the utter shock on her face melted away, replaced by a defeated, completely exasperated sigh as she shook her head, a faint, genuine smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.
"Unbelievable," Riyo finally said, her voice echoing clearly across the concrete deck. She crossed her arms again, looking at the two of them with an expression of total, undeniable clarity. "You two are completely insane. Honestly... you really are made for each other."
The words hit Jabber like a wave of pure triumph.
Instantly straightening his posture despite the burning ache in his gut, Jabber let out a bright, victorious cackle. He reached up with two fingers, casually wiping away a thin smear of fresh crimson blood that had begun to trickle from the corner of his mouth—a beautiful little souvenir from Zanka's knuckles—and stared at the girl with a brilliant, wide grin in his face.
"Did you hear that, Zan-Zan?!" Jabber chirped loudly, his voice bouncing back to its usual unpredictable, theatrical energy as he proudly displayed the bloody smudge on his fingertips. "It’s official! I've already got the blessing of a certified member of your pack! You can't run away from me now, my beautiful fortress—your own sister has officially signed me over to you!"
"Shut up, you idiot," Zanka growled, his face burning an even deeper, darker shade of crimson as Jabber’s loud, triumphant bragging echoed across the entire terrace layout.
Before the final words could even fully leave Jabber's blood-smudged lips, Zanka closed the distance in a flash. His arm snapped upward, his heavy, solid knuckles coming down in a swift, merciless strike right against the top of Jabber’s head.
The impact was loud, sharp, and delivered with that flawless, punishing force that only a high-tier lord could muster. It was a textbook physical shutdown, a literal hammer to his chaotic pride.
And it was absolute perfection.
A low, guttural moan of sheer, unadulterated ecstasy ripped from the back of Jabber’s throat, his knees buckling just a fraction as the sharp, throbbing spike of pain exploded through his skull. He let out a breathless, trembling gasp, his hands instantly flying up to press against the crown of his head where the blow had landed. He was shaking, a heavy, lovesick shiver rippling straight down his spine as he tilted his face upward. his wide eyes were completely dilated, swimming in a manic, euphoric haze as he stared back at his captor.
He didn't care about the throbbing ache; he was entirely intoxicated by it. Every single strike Zanka dealt him felt like a violent, beautiful confession, a dark signature of control that Jabber craved with every fiber of his masochistic soul. He could see the twitching, dominant fury in Zanka's cold blue eyes, the silent, closeted thrill of a sadist who just couldn't help but unleash his weight on the one monster who begged for it.
"Oh, Zan-Zan..." Jabber whined, the sound dragging out into a breathless, shaky giggle that vibrated with pure, obsessive worship. He swayed slightly on his feet, completely ruined and utterly content under the heavy shadow of his beloved. "You really know exactly how to show a guy some affection, don't you? Do it again. Hit me until I can't even remember my own name~"
Riyo’s hand instantly flew to her face, slapping her palm against her forehead with a loud, theatrical smack. She squeezed her green eyes shut, her shoulders dropping in complete, unadulterated exhaustion as Jabber’s breathless, lovesick whining echoed across the concrete deck. The sheer, unhinged intensity of their dynamic was apparently a lot more than she had bargained for this early in the morning.
"Oh, gross! Stop it, both of you!" Riyo complained loudly, waving her arms in front of her as if she could physically push the dense, suffocating atmosphere away. She shifted her weight, her thick leg warmers rustling against the gravel as she took a giant, deliberate step backward to put some distance between herself and the pair. "If you two are going to indulge in whatever twisted, terrifying freak-show romance this is, do it inside! Don't display your rare, weird-ass love right in front of my face! I haven't even had breakfast yet, and my eyes are already burning!"
Jabber’s erratic, shaky giggles cut off instantly as he turned his attention back to the Bang Bang Lady. Even through the throbbing ache in his skull, the opportunity to tease Zanka's protective family was entirely too delicious to pass up.
Straightening his posture with a loose, dramatic sway, Jabber wiped the last trace of crimson blood from his mouth and offered her a brilliant, mocking grin beneath his mask.
"Oh, don't be like that, Bang Bang Lady~" Jabber chirped, his voice instantly bouncing back to its loud, theatrical, and completely unpredictable cadence. He stepped to the side, deliberately wrapping a heavy arm around Zanka’s broad shoulders to pull the stiff, blushing executioner right back into his frame. "You’re just jealous because your giant scissors can't cut through the raw, beautiful tension in the air! Besides, we're family now! You've got a front-row seat to the greatest show on earth. You should be taking notes on how a real alpha worships his beloved!"
Jabber, sensing that Riyo was just a millimeter away from throwing herself off the terrace from the sheer mental collapse of watching them, decided to take pity on her. The madness was still there, vibrating beneath his skin, but he suddenly relaxed his shoulders and let go of Zanka with an almost feline slowness, giving the dense atmosphere of the rooftop a much-needed breather.
With a calmness that was highly unusual for him, Jabber took a couple of steps toward where the heavy shopping bags rested and slid his hands into his pockets, tilting his head with a softer smile beneath his mask.
"Alright, alright, calm down, you're not going to go blind," Jabber teased, maintaining a curiously gentle tone as he gestured with his chin toward one of the gift bags. "Tell me instead, have you actually looked at what I brought you inside there?"
Riyo blinked, still on the defensive but visibly confused by the alpha's sudden change of pace. Her green eyes drifted for a second toward the packaging before locking right back onto him.
"Check it out, seriously," Jabber insisted, crossing his arms with a floating tranquility that completely contrasted his ecstatic whimpers from moments ago. "I just want to see if those hair cosmetics and treatments suit you well. Chtoni and some of the girl's in the Raider's swore they were the absolute best on the market, but since you spend your time running around with so much dust and flying trash, I want to make sure they actually work to protect that mane of yours. Go on, take a look!"
Riyo kept her green eyes narrowed, her gaze flickering between the heavy bags and the terrifyingly calm alpha standing before her. For a second, she looked as if she expected the bag to explode or a trap to spring, but Jabber’s casual, steady posture didn't change.
With a quiet, exasperated mutter, she finally stepped forward. Her thick leg warmers rustled softly against the concrete deck as she reached down and picked up the specific bag he had pointed out.
She pulled open the crinkling paper, peering inside. Her expression instantly shifted from deep suspicion to genuine, stunned disbelief.
Inside the bag were sleek, premium glass bottles and high-end jars—luxurious restorative oils, protective hair masks, and specialized treatments designed to shield hair from harsh environments. It wasn't cheap tactical gear or some mocking joke; it was a collection of incredibly thoughtful, high-quality beauty products meant to combat the exact kind of ruin a front-line fighter's hair went through.
"Wow," Riyo murmured, her voice losing all its defensive edge as she pulled out a beautifully packaged bottle of oil, turning it over in her hands. She looked up at Jabber, her sharp eyes softening just a fraction. "You... you actually weren't kidding. This is the real deal."
Jabber’s grin stretched wide beneath his mask, his heart swelling with a chaotic sense of pride. He looked back over at Zanka, who was silently watching the interaction with his shoulders completely relaxed, those beautiful blue eyes registering a quiet, settled approval.
"See? I told you! I am a creature of absolute luxury and taste!" Jabber laughed, the brief moment of calm instantly fracturing as his usual theatrical, energetic persona surged right back to the surface. He took a heavy, dramatic step closer to Zanka, his possessive alpha scent flaring up once more like a warm wave of ash and copper. "I only want the absolute best for my omega's family! Now, put those away so I can finally show Zan-Zan the dark silk wrap I bought him. I've been waiting all morning to see how it looks against his skin!"
Riyo let out another short, disbelieving laugh, carefully sliding the premium bottle back into the bag. She looked at Jabber, her green eyes tracking the way he practically vibrated with energy as he hovered near Zanka. The sheer contrast between his violent, masochistic outbursts and this strangely domestic gift-giving was bizarre, but it was impossible to deny that the lunatic actually cared.
As she adjusted her grip on the heavy handles, her gaze drifted upward, landing on the thick, intricate dreadlocks framing Jabber’s masked face.
"Alright, I'll admit, this is a pretty incredible gift," Riyo said, her voice carrying a rare tone of genuine curiosity as she gestured vaguely toward his head with her free hand. "But looking at all this premium stuff... it makes me wonder. How the hell do you manage to keep your dreads looking like that? You're constantly running up walls, getting covered in dust, and throwing yourself into fights, yet your hair isn't a tangled, ruined mess. What kind of routine does a madman like you even have?"
Jabber’s head snapped toward her, his wide eyes flashing with absolute delight. If there was one thing he loved just as much as being punished by Zanka or being close to him, it was being recognized for his flawless, high-end taste.
"Oh, I am so glad you asked!" Jabber cheered, throwing his hands out in a grand, theatrical flourish. He took a slow, arrogant stride forward, practically preening under her question. "People look at me and just think 'oh, he's a chaotic beast,' but true beauty requires absolute discipline! You think these dreads just stay this perfect on their own? Absolute blasphemy!"
He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice into a dramatic, conspiratorial whisper while Zanka stood by, watching the two of them with an expression of quiet, long-suffering endurance.
"It's all about the maintenance, darling," Jabber purred, tapping the side of his head proudly. "Deep clarifying washes every single week to get rid of the grime from the streets, followed by specialized lightweight oils so they don't get heavy or hold onto odors. And when I sleep? Pure silk wraps, always! If you don't protect the roots, the friction tears them apart, and I refuse to look anything less than magnificent when I'm standing next to my beautiful future husband. It's a lot of agonizing work, but as you know... I happen to absolutely love a little bit of agony~"
Riyo rolled her eyes, but a amused smirk played on her lips. "Of course. Leave it to you to turn a basic hair care routine into a sermon about masochism. But hey, the silk wrap tip? Actually useful."
"Useful? It's essential!" Jabber shot back, spinning gracefully on his heel to face Zanka again. The brief detour into hair care was fun and all, but his obsessive alpha mind could only stay detached from its true anchor for so long.
He stepped right back into Zanka's personal space, his gaze instantly dropping to the heavy, pristine fabric peeking out from the second bag. The dark, luxurious silk seemed to absorb the morning light, shimmering with a deep, hidden violet undertone. It was smooth, dangerous, and completely elegant—exactly like the man standing in front of him.
"Now, enough about us, Bang Bang Lady," Jabber murmured, his voice dropping into that intensely focused, lovesick purr that made the air between him and Zanka instantly thicken. He reached into the bag, his fingers gently lifting the silk wrap with a reverence that bordered on worship. "Look at this, Zan-Zan. Feel how heavy it is. I want to drape it over your shoulders myself. I want to see how the dark fabric contrasts with your skin while you glare at me for being too close."
Zanka didn't move away as Jabber stepped even closer, though his jaw tightened slightly, a lingering trace of that beautiful crimson blush still painting his cheeks. He looked down at the silk, then up into Jabber's wide, unhinged eyes.
"You're ridiculous and-," Zanka muttered, but his hands stayed firmly at his sides, completely allowing Jabber to invade his space, his silent, closet-sadist nature perfectly content to let the chaotic alpha hover on the edge of complete devotion.
"I'm entirely yours, Zan-Zan," Jabber whispered back, a manic, ecstatic grin stretching wide beneath his mask as he raised the silk to drape it around his fortress.
With a slow, almost agonizingly deliberate movement, Jabber raised the dark silk fabric. His hands, usually so twitchy and chaotic, were perfectly steady now, treating the wrap like a holy shroud. He stepped so deep into Zanka’s personal territory that he could feel the radiating warmth of his body against his own chest.
Gently, he draped the heavy, luxurious silk over Zanka’s broad shoulders.
The contrast was absolute perfection. The deep, shimmering dark violet tones of the silk caught the morning light, perfectly framing Zanka’s sharp jawline and making his icy blue eyes look devastatingly cold. Jabber let his fingers linger on Zanka's collarbone, smoothing down the fabric with a slow, possessive stroke. He let out a low, breathless purr, his alpha scent of ash and copper flaring up once more, practically wrapping around Zanka alongside the silk.
oh, Zanka look wonderful in his colours
"Look at you," Jabber whispered, his voice trembling with a frantic, lovesick worship. He leaned his face down, his unhinged eyes wide and completely dilated as he stared at his prize. "You look like a god, Zan-Zan. A beautiful, frozen king. It fits you so perfectly it makes my chest physically ache."
Zanka didn't flinch away from the touch. Instead, his cold eyes narrowed, his chest rising as he took a deep, steady breath of Jabber's suffocating scent. The dark crimson blush on his cheeks deepened, but his posture remained completely dominant, unyielding, and terrifyingly still.
"Are you quite finished, Jabber?" Zanka murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated right through Jabber’s bones.
"Never," Jabber gasped, a manic, ecstatic grin stretching wide beneath his mask. He deliberately pressed his fingers a little harder against Zanka's chest, practically begging for another beautifully violent reaction. "I could stand here and worship you until the world burns down, Zan-Zan. Go ahead, strike me again for being too bold. Show me exactly how much you hate it~"
From a few feet away, Riyo let out a loud, aggressive groan, slinging the bag of hair products over her shoulder as she turned toward the roof exit. "Yep, that is officially my cue to leave. Enjoy your weird, violent honeymoon, you freaks. I'm going down and eat breakfast...and distract Enjin"
"Hey, Bang Bang Lady! Wait up!" Jabber called out, breaking his lovesick trance for just a split second. He didn't lift his heavy, possessive arm from Zanka’s shoulder, but his head snapped toward Riyo with a sudden, chaotic burst of energy. "Don't go empty-handed! Take the other bags with you! I didn't haul all this gold up a vertical fortress wall just for it to sit here and collect dust!"
Riyo paused at the edge of the roof exit, turning around with an eyebrow raised as Jabber pointed aggressively with his free hand toward the remaining pile of heavy, crinkling shopping bags.
"Make sure you distribute them properly!" Jabber chirped, his voice bouncing with unpredictable excitement. "Oh, and especially that massive one at the bottom. That one is for that huge, towering alpha—the big one who was standing right next to Zan-Zan giving him advice the last time I checked in. You know the one!"
Riyo blinked, looking at the bag and then up at her brother. "The big alpha giving advice? Wait... do you mean Gris?"
"Gris," Zanka confirmed, his deep voice cutting through the air with flat certainty, though his cold blue eyes flickered with a faint, amused recognition at how Jabber’s chaotic mind remembered the towering kind alpha.
"Yes! Him! The giant wall of muscle!" Jabber laughed ecstatically, his head tilting as he leaned even closer into Zanka’s side, completely intoxicated by his proximity. "I bought him some heavy-duty stuff. And make sure Mary Poppins gets his share too! Yes, I brought extra gifts for my favorite father-in-law...Enjin! He’s always looking so stressed out running this whole circus, so I figured some premium imports would keep him from losing the rest of his hair."
Turning his focus completely back to Zanka, Jabber’s tone dropped instantly from playful shouting to that low, dangerously devoted purr. His wide, unhinged eyes locked onto the crimson flush still painting the younger one cheeks.
"See how thoughtful I am, Zan-Zan? I'm taking care of your entire squad, even your bossy adoptive-dad," Jabber whispered, his fingers twitching against the dark silk fabric on Zanka's shoulder as his scent of ash and copper flared possessively. "Now that the chores are done... where were we? Ah, right. You were about to punish me for being entirely too close to you~"
Zanka didn't lash out with a loud, explosive display of anger. Instead, his reaction was terrifyingly quiet, a sudden drop in temperature that made the air on the terrace instantly freeze.
With a movement so smooth it was almost elegant, Zanka stepped into Jabber’s space and caught him by the front of his collar. He didn't slam him; he simply leaned his weight forward, forcing Jabber back against the concrete pillar until there was nowhere left to run. Zanka brought his face bare inches from Jabber’s face, his forearm pressing with a slow, calculated, and heavy pressure right against Jabber’s troath.
His cold blue eyes didn't rage—they turned into flat, absolute ice, boring directly into Jabber's dilated pupils. The deep crimson blush was still burning on Zanka's cheeks, a beautiful contradiction to the suffocating, calm dominance he was exerting.
"You are right, you talk so much, and are such a menace...i should give you a punishment " Zanka whispered, his deep voice dropping into a quiet, lethal murmur that vibrated directly against Jabber's chest. "And I will make sure you don't speak for a month from it."
A sharp, ragged gasp caught in the back of Jabber’s throat. His hands flew up, his fingers lightly gripping Zanka’s wrists—not to break the hold, but to savor the exact, mathematical weight of the omega's control. A quiet, breathless shudder ran completely through Jabber’s frame, a small, involuntary whimper of absolute bliss melting into a faint, shaky giggle.
This was where they fit perfectly. Zanka didn't need to be loud or overtly monstrous; his sadism was a quiet, clinical thing, a hidden thirst for absolute control that he only ever unleashed behind closed doors—or when Jabber pushed him just far enough to draw it out. And Jabber was the only alpha alive who looked at that terrifying, icy weight and wanted to be crushed by it. It was a bizarre, twisted harmony, but under the morning sun, it worked with absolute precision.
"Oh, Zan-Zan..." Jabber breathed, his voice a low, trembling purr of pure worship as he tilted his head back against the stone, completely yielding to the deliberate, bruising pressure on his throat. "You look so magnificent when you're quietly deciding how to break me. Go on... press harder~"
Zanka’s eyes darkened, the faintest, almost imperceptible twitch of satisfaction touching the corner of his lips as he held Jabber pinned, letting him twist in that suffocating space for a few long, agonizingly perfect seconds.
From the doorway, Riyo let out a final, deeply exhausted sigh, scooping up the remaining heavy shopping bags.
"Yep. I am officially out," she muttered, her heavy leg warmers dragging against the gravel as she kicked the roof door open. "Enjoy your weird, quiet honeymoon without being husband's, you freaks."
Zanka maintained that heavy, deliberate pressure for a couple of seconds more before slowly pulling his arm back, breaking the hold but staying exactly where he was. He didn't take a single step away. With an incredibly calm and elegant gesture, he adjusted the heavy drape of the dark silk wrap over his broad shoulders, letting the violet undertones catch the morning light while locking his icy eyes directly onto Jabber's.
The skin of his cheeks was still burning with that characteristic contrast of his: the silent, dominant fury of a cold omega mixed with absolute, unwavering control over the situation.
"You are an absolute headache, Jabber...but you're my headache ¿right?," Zanka murmured, his deep voice dropping into a quiet, low register that sent a violent shiver straight down Jabber's spine.
Jabber let out a shaky, ragged breath, sliding his back up against the concrete pillar as he drank in the sight, completely fascinated. His hyperactive, chaotic mind—always buzzing at the edge of a breakdown—instantly fell into a state of pure, focused calm whenever Zanka was this close. With a bold, fluid movement, Jabber reached out and caught the very edge of the dark silk wrap, giving it a soft, barely perceptible tug just to force Zanka to lean a millimeter closer.
"A headache you absolutely adore and only yours like you are mine, Zan-Zan~" Jabber cooed, his voice dropping into a smooth, shameless purr, completely locked into the quiet danger radiating from his lovely man. "Admit it. No one else can handle that magnificent, icy glare of yours without turning tail and running."
Zanka narrowed his cold eyes, but he didn't break the suffocating contact, nor did he bother to swat Jabber's hand away from the expensive fabric. Instead, he met the gentle tug with a heavy, lethal stillness that felt intoxicatingly intimate.
"Anyone with a shred of sanity would run from a lunatic like you..." Zanka responded in a chilling whisper, though the very corner of his mouth twitched into that subtle, almost invisible trace of dark satisfaction that drove the alpha insane.
"But you aren't anyone else, my beautiful king," Jabber whispered back, his wide eyes completely dilated, his heart hammering against his ribs in absolute, ecstatic devotion. "You're the only one who knows exactly how much leash to give this monster to keep him under control. And I happen to love being entirely in your hands."
Without hesitation, he approached, running one of his hands along the other man's waist.
Zanka didn't pull away from the bold touch, nor did he break the suffocating trap of his gaze. Instead, the heavy silk wrap shifted slightly over his broad shoulders as he leaned just a fraction of an inch closer, letting his cold, masculine omega scent fully mix with the heavy layer of Jabber’s ash and copper.
He reached down, his strong fingers closing firmly around Jabber’s wrist. He didn't squeeze to break the bone, but the heavy, unyielding grip was an undeniable reminder of the physical strength tucked beneath his quiet, stoic demeanor.
"You talk and touch too much for a beast on a leash," Zanka murmured, his breath brushing cold against the edge of Jabber's face. The dark crimson flush on his sharp jawline deepened, but his expression remained completely dominant, unyielding, and calm. "If I keep giving you rope, you're only going to choke yourself with it."
Jabber let out a low, ecstatic whine at the heavy constraint on his wrist, his knees buckling slightly as he leaned his entire weight back against the concrete pillar, his other hand tightening his grip on his waist. His unhinged eyes dilated even further, completely drunk on the intoxicating friction of Zanka’s control. He could feel the dangerous, hidden sadism humming just beneath the omega's clinical touch—a silent, heavy pressure that was meant entirely for him.
"Then choke me with it, Zan-Zan~" Jabber whispered frantically, his voice a ragged, lovesick purr as he tilted his head back, completely exposing his throat to the masculine omega standing over him. He gave a small, shaky chuckle, his other hand twitching with a desperate urge to touch the dark fabric on Zanka's chest again but it stayed at his waist. "Tighten the leash. Show me exactly how heavy your hands get when you decide I've had enough. I want to see just how dark those beautiful blue eyes get when you're forcing me to be quiet."
Zanka’s gaze dropped to Jabber's exposed throat, his jaw tightening slightly as he absorbed the absolute, unhinged devotion radiating from the alpha. A faint, dark smirk finally ghosted across his lips—a subtle, clinical twitch of pure satisfaction. He didn't let go of Jabber's wrist; instead, he gave it a firm, quiet tug forward, silently asserting his absolute authority before the morning wind could carry their thick, tangled scents away.
Zanka maintained that heavy, deliberate pressure for a couple of seconds more before slowly pulling his arm back, breaking the hold but staying exactly where he was. He didn't take a single step away. With an incredibly calm and elegant gesture, he adjusted the heavy drape of the dark silk wrap over his broad shoulders, letting the violet undertones catch the morning light while locking his icy eyes directly onto Jabber's.
The skin of his cheeks was still burning with that characteristic contrast of his: the silent, dominant fury of a cold omega mixed with absolute, unwavering control over the situation.
"You are an absolute dumbass, Jabber," Zanka murmured, his deep voice dropping into a quiet, low register that sent a violent shiver straight down Jabber's spine.
Jabber let out a shaky, ragged breath, sliding his back up against the concrete pillar as he drank in the sight, completely fascinated. His hyperactive, chaotic mind—always buzzing at the edge of a breakdown—instantly fell into a state of pure, focused calm whenever Zanka was this close. With a bold, fluid movement, Jabber reached out and caught the very edge of the dark silk wrap, giving it a soft, barely perceptible tug just to force Zanka to lean a millimeter closer, still his his firm grip on the omega's delicious waist with his other hand.
Zanka narrowed his cold eyes, but he didn't break the suffocating contact, nor did he bother to swat Jabber's hand away from the expensive fabric or his waist Instead, he met the gentle tug with a heavy, lethal stillness that felt intoxicatingly intimate.
"You're such a bold alpha aren't you? ," Zanka responded in a chilling whisper, though the very corner of his mouth twitched into that subtle, almost invisible trace of dark satisfaction that drove the alpha insane.
"I am but only for you and you know it, after all you will be mine only," Jabber whispered back, his wide eyes completely dilated in absolute, ecstatic devotion. " Just imagine, me and you in the future like husband's all lovey dovey and I will love being entirely in your hands."
"You talk too much," Zanka murmured, his deep voice cutting through the morning air like a honed blade but Jabber know that his words affected him in a wonderful way. His omega slowly take one step away with that move also freed his own waist from his own iron grip. The dark violet silk rippled over his broad, powerful shoulders as he held Jabber's gaze with that absolute, unyielding authority. "Go back to your base, Jabber. I have a day to complete, and I won't have you lingering around our borders like a stray dog."
Jabber stayed pinned against the concrete pillar for a fraction of a second, his skin still prickling from the heavy, suffocating friction of Zanka's grip. He let out a low, shuddering breath, a frantic, ecstatic grin stretching wide as his hyperactive mind basked in the lingering ghost of Zanka's cold dominance and waist. It was the only thing in the world that could genuinely ground his chaotic radar.
"Oh, forcing your beast back into the shadows, Zan-Zan? How beautifully cruel~" Jabber purred, his voice instantly snapping back to its high, unpredictable, and theatrical pitch. He pushed himself off the stone, fluidly adjusting himself hiding one...thing in his pants that was waking up. "Fine. I'll vanish before your bossy alpha-dad notices an intruder. But you better think of me every time you wear that silk."
Zanka didn't offer a reply, but the faint, dark twitch of satisfaction at the corner of his lips remained as he turned toward the roof exit, leaving the chaotic alpha exactly where he belonged—watching from the edges, completely hooked on the leash.
Jabber know that his Zan-Zan loved leaving him like that.
ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ
Before Zanka could take his first full step toward the door, he paused. The heavy silk fabric rippled around his shoulders as he cast a long, deliberate look back over his shoulder. Jabber’s erratic breathing hitched instantly, his entire focus locking onto the slight shift in the omega's broad frame.
Zanka reached down, his strong fingers moving to the pockets of his own dark clothing. With a fluid, clinical movement, he unclasped a heavy, dark metallic band—a thick, rugged bracelet crafted with the same stark of one of his clothes, disciplined utility that characterized everything Zanka wore. As he pulled it off, the heavy friction of his skin left it deeply infused with the thick, biting frost of his omega scent.
Without a word, Zanka tossed the heavy band through the air with a careless flick of his wrist.
Jabber’s reflexes snapped into action, his hand darting out to catch it out of midair. He opened his palm, his unhinged eyes widening. Resting in his grip was a literal piece of his beloved, cold to the touch but burning with absolute authority, It was a piece of cloth sewn and elegantly burned into a bracelet; it smelled strong of the scent of Zanka.
"See it as a response to your courtship," Zanka said, his deep voice dropping into an incredibly low, private murmur that barely carried across the concrete. He tilted his head slightly, his icy blue eyes pinning Jabber to the spot with a heavy, intense gravity. "And for the gifts. You chose well for them."
Jabber's chest swelled, his heart hammering a frantic, ecstatic rhythm against his ribs as he stared at the bracelet. His chaotic mind whirled with pure, unadulterated worship. Zanka wasn't just acknowledging the premium silk; he was acknowledging that Jabber had taken care of his family—that he had respected the boundaries of the people Zanka held close.
"You're being a good alpha for me today, Jabber," Zanka murmured, the words cutting through the morning breeze with a chilling, quiet intimacy. The dark crimson flush was still painted across his sharp jawline, a beautiful, striking proof of the effect this twisted dynamic had on him. "Keep acting like it, and I might actually let you keep that on...and maybe give you more gifts"
The praise hit Jabber like a physical wave, completely overwhelming his senses. To hear those specific words come from a male omega as dominant, cold, and fiercely independent as Zanka—to be explicitly given a piece of his own armor to wear—sent a violent, breathless shudder straight down his spine. He immediately snapped the heavy bracelet around his own wrist, his knees practically trembling with a desperate, ecstatic urge to drop to the gravel right then and there.
"Oh... Zan-Zan..." Jabber breathed, his voice a broken, trembling purr of absolute devotion his wide eyes were completely dilated again, swimming in a lovesick, chaotic haze as he looked at his king. "A good alpha... your alpha... Gods, you really know exactly how to make me belong to you, don't you?"
Zanka didn't give him the satisfaction of another word. With a final, sharp twitch of his lips, he turned on his heel and walked through the roof exit, the heavy door clicking shut behind him and leaving the terrace empty.
Left alone in the morning sun, Jabber brought his newly adorned wrist to his mask, deeply inhaling the sharp, lingering frost on the dark metal. A wild, unhinged giggle bubbled up from his throat as he hoisted his Jinki higher on his shoulder, completely drunk on the leash and ready to melt into the shadows of the sector until his husband were ready to meet him again.
Euphoric from the gift, Jabber didn't waste another second. With his characteristic, unhinged energy, he threw himself backwards over the ledge of the terrace, diving straight off the Cleaners' base into the open air. High above the drop, his beautiful Jinki, Mankira, seamlessly flared to life, cushioning his descent and sweeping him into a fluid, chaotic escape. In his state of absolute delirium, Jabber masterfully ignored the sharp, rattling sound of a few windows clicking open from the floors below as Cleaners reacted to the sudden disturbance; he simply vanished into the distance, a streak of manic laughter left in his wake.
A few minutes later, once he was safely out of their territory and deep into the neutral sectors, he couldn't contain his excitement for another moment. Pulling out his communication device, he quickly dialed Chtoni. Without even bothering to waste words on a verbal answer, the reliable omega immediately tore open a swirling portal right in front of him. Jabber stepped through without a shred of hesitation, and within seconds, he was standing right back in the familiar, rugged safety of the Raiders' base.
The very first thing he noticed upon arrival was Chtoni's sharp, analytical gaze tracking his every movement, assessing him from head to toe with that innate, protective scrutiny.
"Chtoni! They loved the gifts! They actually loved them!" Jabber cheered, his voice bouncing off the walls in a high, theatrical pitch as he thrust his wrist forward, practically shoving the heavy metallic band into her face. "Even my adored Zan-Zan gave me a gift in return~! Look at it! Am I finally going to marry my beautiful king?!"
Chtoni merely let out a low, thoughtful hum. Beneath her stern exterior, her shoulders dropped just a fraction, a wave of quiet relief washing over her as her own deeply ingrained instincts—the ones that stubbornly viewed this foolish, chaotic alpha as her own son—softened at the sight of his pure, unadulterated happiness.
"Yes," Chtoni replied calmly, her sharp eyes shifting from the scented bracelet back to his masked face. "But it also means you're going to have to follow through with what I told you."
Jabber’s posture deflated instantly, his long arms dropping to his sides as he let out a dramatic, exaggerated whine. "The thing about finding a real job? But that's so boring, Chtoni! Why would a Raider need a civilian grind?"
Chtoni crossed her arms, her gaze turning incredibly flat and unyielding. "Do you really want your omega to reject you the moment he finds out you've been showering his family with stolen goods? Or worse, gifts bought with blood-stained, stolen cash, Jabber?"
The hyperactive buzz in Jabber's shoulders died down to a sudden, rigid halt. The mere thought of Zanka's icy blue eyes turning away from him in genuine, disgusted rejection made his stomach twist into a violent knot.
"...No," Jabber muttered softly, his voice dropping into a rare, genuinely subdued whisper beneath his mask.
"Then you work," Chtoni commanded, her tone final and absolute.
Jabber paced around the room, his fingers constantly tapping a frantic, rhythmic beat against the heavy metallic bracelet wrapped tightly around his wrist. The lingering scent of Zanka’s biting frost was the only thing keeping his racing thoughts. Every few seconds, he would lift his wrist back up to his face, deeply inhaling the omega’s cold, dominant scent just to feel that intoxicating wave of euphoria all over again.
"A real job... a real, honest-to-god grind," Jabber muttered to himself, his voice dropping into a low, theatrical theatricality as he dramatically dragged his hands down his face. "Me! A Raider! Sitting behind a desk or hauling crates for some boring merchant while the rest of the world gets to have all the fun! It's practically a tragedy, Chtoni! A cinematic disaster!"
Chtoni didn't budge, her arms remaining tightly crossed over her chest as she watched his dramatic display with an incredibly patient, yet entirely unyielding expression. She was well-traveled and deeply experienced enough to know exactly how to handle the alpha’s hyperactive outbursts without losing her footing.
"The only tragedy here would be watching you ruin the best thing that ever happened to you because you couldn't keep your hands out of someone else's pockets," Chtoni said, her voice smooth, grounded, and heavy with maternal authority. She took a step closer, her analytical gaze locking onto the frantic movement of his shoulders. "An omega noble like Zanka values discipline, structure, and respect. If you want to stand by his side as a proper partner, you need to show him you can provide for him and his family without bringing the chaos of a Raider raid to his doorstep."
Jabber stopped his pacing, freezing in place as her words sank deep into his chest. He looked down at the dark, rugged bracelet, his mind vividly conjuring the image of Zanka’s sharp jawline painted with that beautiful crimson flush, his icy blue eyes commanding absolute submission. The thought of being a worthy alpha for his king—of genuinely earning that dark, clinical satisfaction Zanka only showed to him—started to outweigh the sheer boredom of a regular job.
"A proper partner..." Jabber whispered, the words tasting strange but intoxicating on his tongue. A wide, manic grin slowly spread beneath his mask once more, his hyperactive energy instantly redirecting into a brand-new, obsessive mission. "An alpha who earns his keep! Yes... yes! Imagine the look on his beautiful, stoic face when I present him with another premium silk bought with my own, legitimately earned coin! He’ll have no choice but to praise me again!"
He hoisted his hands higher on his shoulder with a sharp, metallic click of his Mankira against his clothes, his posture straightening with a newfound, theatrical determination.
"Fine! You win, Chtoni!" Jabber cheered, his voice bouncing off the rugged walls of the Raiders' base in a high, unpredictable pitch. "Tell me where to sign, who to talk to, or what miserable, civilian chore I have to conquer! If it's for my adored Zan-Zan, I'll become the most exceptionally legitimate worker this trash place has ever seen!"
Chtoni simply stared at him for a long, heavy stretch of seconds, her sharp gaze boring into his frantic posture. Finally, she let out a loud, audible sigh and, with a swift flick of her wrist, tossed a laminated card directly at Jabber’s chest.
The alpha’s reflexes snapped out to catch it. Looking down, he noticed it was an official identification badge for pharmacy personnel. For a rare moment, Jabber went entirely silent, tilting his head as his vibrant, fuchsia eyes locked back onto the older omega with unmistakable curiosity.
"I explained the entire situation to the Boss," Chtoni said, her voice smooth and grounded as she crossed her arms. "He personally helped me look for a line of work that would actually suit your... specific traits. You'll be working as a compounding technician, manufacturing and mixing chemical formulas for a doctor. She's fully aware that you're a Raider, which is exactly why she's giving you a position safely tucked away in the back where the civilian customers can't see you."
"What? Seriously?" Jabber gasped, his theatrical voice pitching up as he flipped the badge over in his gloved fingers. "And how the hell did the Boss-man convince a high-and-mighty doctor to hire a lunatic like me?"
"You know how the Boss is—he always knows exactly how to get what he wants," Chtoni replied, her expression softening with a trace of deep-seated respect. "But from what I understand, that lady was actually the one who helped him out back when he was young."
Jabber maintain silence his fuchsia eyes narrowing as he looked down at the official stamp. The silence that followed was heavy, stripped completely of his usual theatricality.
"You want me to lock myself in a back room like a caged cat, Chtoni?"
Chtoni didn't back down. She didn't use a lecturing tone; she spoke with the harsh, pragmatic reality of the Raiders.
"I don't care what you do, Jabber," Chtoni said bluntly. "But you asked how to get clean coin, and the Boss delivered. The woman knows you're a Raider, and she knows you can handle the toxic filth in the back where the customers won't see your face."
She stepped closer, her gaze unyielding.
"You want to buy premium silk without bringing a trail of blood and trash back to that cleaner's doorstep?" Chtoni pointed a sharp finger at the badge. "Then you go there, you do the grunt work, you take her money, and you keep your hands out of her inventory. If you blow this, the Boss won't protect you from the Hell Guard's for some time."
Jabber stared at the badge for a long, tense second, the information clicking into place inside his erratic brain. Slowly, a sharp, jagged chuckle rattled from his chest. The manic, unpredictable energy flooded right back into his frame as he lifted his wrist, taking a deep, desperate breath of the icy frost scent lingering on Zanka's bracelet to anchor himself.
The thought of Zanka's blue eyes turning away from him in genuine, cold disgust—the thought of being rejected as a pathetic, sloppy alpha who could only offer stolen trash—was the only thing that could truly terrify him.
"Clean coin for my dear... a proper tribute again," Jabber purred, his voice instantly snapping back to its high, theatrical pitch as he fluidly shoved the ID into his vest. His eyes gleaming with an obsessive, frantic focus. "Fine, fine! I'll play the doctor's little shadow tomorrow. Let's see how much they pay for a little honest labor~"
Chtoni remained silent for several long seconds, letting the weight of the conversation settle before she finally turned on her heel with a low, controlled sigh.
"Fine. With that settled, let’s go," she said, her voice dropping back into its usual calm, commanding rhythm. "We need to get some breakfast before the meeting with the Boss."
"Of course, Chtoni!~" Jabber cheered, his posture instantly bouncing back into its loose, hyperactive state as he skipped a step to follow her. "Is the Boss cooking today?"
"He is," Chtoni replied, a faint, rare trace of ease softening her shoulders. "He's in a good mood."
"Oh, yay~!" Jabber chirped, his fuchsia eyes gleaming with theatrical delight his stomach already rumbling at the thought of a proper meal before the real work began.