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Ever since he had joined the raiders, he had been called many different names that he never had had the courage to argue against. Why would he choose to oppose this group of strong givers that wouldn’t think twice about killing him if he was too much of a nuance?
“Fu’s a spineless wimp.”
“That boy is nothing without being ordered around, if he doesn’t grow a backbone pretty soon he’ll just die without anyone telling him how to live.”
“He’s nothing but a doormat, he’d let you step and trample over him if you told him to.”
“A coward. That's what he is.”
He couldn’t argue their statements. How could he? Everything they said and thought about him was true after all. He’d rather be used like a tool by someone else than be the one holding himself accountable for whatever he did, to not be responsible if something went wrong.
So, what did this mean for Fu’s role as a raider?
It meant that whenever he didn’t have direct orders from Zodyl to do whatever he wanted him to, he would fullfill every task or errand the others asked of him. The errand boy.
“Errand boy, get me…” “Errand boy, do this..” Errand boy, Errand boy, Errand boy. It got to a point where they had completely stopped using his name and he believed some had forgotten it completely… However, once Zodyl caught wind of how he was being used by the others he ordered them to shut it down and hearing his own name again became a norm. Fu wanted to believe he was being defended by him, but he knew Zodyl simply didn’t want him to take orders from anyone other than him.
But still, that didn’t mean the others completely stopped ordering him to do stuff for them. It became rarer, sure, but it wasn’t strange to be asked to do something. Although, due to there being less favours to ask, they often were more…specific.
And by specific he meant that, for example, the average thing Chtoni asked (ordered) him to do before went from going around and gathering some errands for her while she went off on her portal to do whatever…To avoiding Jabber poisoning himself into next week or even possibly overdose when he wasn't assigned anything to do that excited him.
In other words, the chage was noticeable.
And now, he was standing right infront of the door to Jabber’s room and holding his fist infront of the door, trying to hype himself up to knock and ask for permission to get inside. From outside the room, you could hear how loud hip-hop music played on some busted up speakers Jabber had found while looking throught piles of trash on Zodyl’s last attempt to create a trash monster, and now he had made it everyone else’s problem.
Would he even hear him if he knocked on the door? Did he have to knock louder and harder now, or should he just walk in the room as if he belonged there without Jabber telling him to come in? What if he was too late now and Jabber had overdosed and died?! Would it be his fault?! Why can’t someone just tell him what to do nowww?!?!
His very quickly-to-assume-the-worst overthinking thoughts came to an end with the door in front of him suddenly opening and hitting him straight on the nose. The poor, errand boy staggered back and almost fell down to the floor had he not been picked up off the floor by the scarf wrapped around his neck.
Fu looked at the raider in front of him, he could almost imagine the way they way the painted on domino mask on his face would smudge just by the way he started to sweat. Jabber looked…Not happy.
It wasn't like Jabber always acted happy, or well, it would be better to describe it as euphoric…or high. He was still intimidating nonetheless, he said such horrible and terrifying things in such a cheery way that it made Fu’s stomach twist.
But when he was more sober, although it was rarer, he was still just as if not more terrifying. He always looked tired and barely bothered to do anything at all if it didn't involve drugs or a good fight (beat). It was unsettling. At least when he was high you could tell what was going through his mind, he told you himself! But now…
“What.” Jabber pierced him with his eyes, hovering the errand boy a few inches off the ground. The music filled the “silence” in which Fu thought of what he had to say.
“I-I just- I uh- I came to - check on you!!” Fu managed to stutter out, sounding the most natural he could. High or not, Jabber was still a mystery to figure out and Fu was scared if he told him ‘I want to make sure you don’t kill yourself with poisons hahah!’ Jabber might just do it right there and it’d be his fault.
The drug addict holding him in the air kept on looking at him. Then, he dropped him on the ground. “Then come in, Fenty.” He said as he turned around and walked back to his room. Of course, Fu followed right behind him.
“Close the door.” Jabber ordered him as he sat back down on a rusty stool, it squeaked at the action. And Fu, of course, followed through without squeaking back. When he turned back around, he took in the scene right in front of him. Although the room, the table, the bed…everything in general looked like a mess, it somehow felt organized in a way only Jabber could understand. Which was only proven by the man writing down something he couldn’t understand on some discoloured pieces of paper while looking at other, unorganized notes that were scattered all over the table.
“Are ya just gonna keep lookin at me mane?” Jabber side eyed him, not moving from his seat. “Go sit down or something. I don’t care.” And sit down he did.
“I didn’t think you liked being hurt too.” The now calm Jabber spoke. “Sitting down right in front of the door- Now you’re just asking to get kicked around.” He pointed at him with the pen he was holding and chuckled. “If that's how it is, then maybe next time we fight I’ll let Mankira go all out!” The faint and blickering light illuminating the room shined upon his rings and for a second Fu thought he was going to activate her and start a fight right there and then.
Instead, he laughed. “Man, the look on your face!” He pulled his hand back and laughed, still pointing at him. “You really are fun to tease!”. Fu inmediatly crawled away from the door and settled for the floor by the bed, now looking at the way Jabber knocked his head back and kept on laughing. He might have been lucky he was joking, but he was sure it could have ended much worse for him if he didn’t change. Being alone with Jabber felt like constantly walking on eggshells, except that the possibility of being drugged into oblivion or dying was the biggest concern it gave him. Fu unconsciously clutched the doll hidden under his sweater.
Slowly, Jabber’s laught died down on his throat and there was silence again, only the sound of lights buzzing and flickering filled the air. Then, he just shifted back forward and kept on writing. The coward tried to figure out what he was writting about, but it was really hard to do so.
“What are ya lookin at?” Jabber asked, without turning back around. How could he tell he was staring?
“I’m just curious about what you’re writing…” Fu answered him, trying his best not to let his concerns show. Jabber crooked his index finger and beckoned him to get closer, which he did. He crawled towards the table and grabbed the edge of it to support himself back on his two feet, then looked down at the notes sitting on the table. And looking at them…
“Do ya understand any of this?” Jabber asked as he tapped some symbols and letters Fu had never seen before. He shifted his glanze from the paper to the person he was meant to serve and when he noticed him looking right at him with his piercing eyes, he immediately looked back at the hieroglyphs on the table.
“No sir no!” He spat out his answer, straightening up and trying to look more ‘profesional’ infront of the other. Despite doing his best, he felt as if he hadn’t really impressed him.
“Wanna know what it is?” Jabber smirked and kept on looking at him. Fu nodded.
“It's the formulas for some mixtures of poisons!” Jabber had a big smile on his face, looking back at the notes on the table. “Y’know, the bad thing about having this stuff is that eventually you start to gain inmunity to some of ‘em, so I gotta make new stuff that’ll actually hit me hard myself!”
Fu froze.
He was supposed to stop him from poisoning himself and all the while he was just making MORE poisons not even JABBER HIMSELF knew what they did?! How was he supposed to stop him from poisoning himself when he had to test them on himself to get what he wanted?! Why was this so hard?!
“I still have sum ol’ stuff that isn’t really as good that I use with Mankira.” Out of nowhere, he summoned his Jinki and the claws scratched the papers and wood of the table. “This one barely does anything to me anymore, but it can paralyze any other for hours on end!” He chuckled under his breath as he pointed at one of the papers. “I'm tryin to make it work for me again to mix it with some other shit, but it's hard as shit to do that when I’m already used to it!”
“..T-Then why do you use them for fights..?” Fu tried to shift the subject to something else, but he couldn’t tell if he really wanted the theme of conversation to switch to that.
“Because too high of a dose could kill someone normal instantly.” Jabber spoke, like he wasnt talking about real people. “And if they might not even be able to compleatly handle a more regulated dose of poison, I’d rather see them try to get back up and struggle to breath on the ground.”
Oh, yeah.
Jabber isn’t only a masochist, but a sadist too.
“Weak people are boring, and doing that would just make them be more useless than they already are.” Jabber looked back at Fu, a faint smile on his lips as he inspected him. “You understand me, don’t you Fu?”
He didn’t know what to do. He should agree, Jabber wanted him to, but he didn’t want anything less but to. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t mean for anything bad to happen he didn’t mean to he really didn’t, he didn’t want this at all-
“Don’t bother to answer.” Jabber interrupted his train of overwhelming thoughts once again. “I already know it.”
…Huh?
“...What do you-” He was cut off again.
“I know that you’re a monster. Just like me.”
Suddenly, the room felt much colder than before.
He opened his mouth again, lingering open until the words finally managed to come throught.
“..I-I don’t know what-”
“Don’t give me that bullshit now.” He was cut off. Again.
“You might have fooled the others and gotten them to think you’re one of those pathetic weaklings.” His eyes pierced throught Fu as a predator’s eyes would on its prey, Fu felt like he forgot how to breathe. “But I know the truth, the REAL you that you pretend not to be.”
Jabber abruptly stood up from his chair, not caring that the stool he was sitting down fell back with the impulse, and started closing in the distance between them. Fu instinctively shifted back.
“You got it all wrong, I-I’m nothing- I-I’m not-” Fu clutched his chest and searched for the comfort of holding Hii, of knowing he wasn’t alone.
“But you are.” Jabber was smiling ear to ear. “I know there's something you’re hiding from the rest with that disgusting people-pleasing attitude.” He reached his hands out and towards Fu’s face, Mankira’s blades still activated. Fu wanted to leave, to go, run away before he slashed his throat and let the blood flow down and stain Hii.
The cold blades of Mankira stung the skin it touched. But it didn’t cut, he didn’t bleed- Jabber’s hands carefully cupped his cheeks and without cutting through him, he caressed them with his thumb.
“Fuuuu” He tried his best not to move. Not to tremble. “Buddy, pal…” His ears started ringing and he could hear the sound of his heart beat as his lip quivered. Jabber was terrifying. The way he stared at him like he was a piece of meat, waiting to approach and eat him whole. To leave nothing of him.
“Let's fight.” Jabber said with a big, toothy smile on his face. “But this time, let's make it a real one.”
“Were the others not good enought for you? Wasn't I good?” Is what Fu would have asked had he not been frozen in fear. Jabber laughted. “Oh MAN! Is that the face you make after being figured out?! You thought I wouldn't notice?” He finally moved away and removed Mankira from Fu’s cheeks, its sharp ends caressing his chin as they left without leaving a scratch.
“When you're a wolv- wolf in a pack of wolves, its easy to tell when theres a wolf in sheep’s clothing among you.” He pointed at him again, this time, the dim light in the room shinned upon Mankira’s real blades. And what was he pointing at?
The cursed doll that Fu was clinging to like a lifeline.
“What does that do?” Jabber asked. “I’ve never seen you use it. Just talk to it. Talk talk talk…talk!” He opened and closed his hand a couple of times, mimicking the movement of a mouth, Mankira’s blades clicked and clanked against eachother.
After finally regaining the ability to talk, he answered. “This is Hii…We have a pact in which when I don't have anyone to order me around o-or have to take care of something, my body becomes his and he does it for me…” Fu tried his best to explain their deal briefly as he pet the messy fur on the cursed doll’s neck as a way to de-stress himself.
“Uh huh…” Jabber nodded his head. “So that other ‘personality’ of you ‘takes over’ your body?” Fu nodded his head. Jabber bit his lower lip. “Then let him come out and play!”
“..N-No no you don’t get it, it's not something that I can just-”
“Do I seriously HAVE to order you to?” The addict sighed. “Do you want me to beg on my knees for you to just hurt me the best you can, to break my ribs and punch me there? …Or should I just make you show me.”
“It's not that I just-” I don't want to hurt you. If I let Hii hurt you now it’d be my fault. Because I let it happen. I don't want to I don't want to I don't want to-
Before he could say another word, he fell backwards before Mankira’s blades swished forward and cut his neck. This time, there was no one to stop him from falling hard on the cold and dirty floor. But he had greater concerns than that now.
Jabber slashed forward again, and yet again Fu barely managed to dodge his hit. “C’monn Fu, get “Hii” to take care of me now!”
Jabber’s attacks were fast and unpredictable, so it was imposible for Fu to try to leave knowing he’d be too slow to open the door to avoid being cut by Jabber’s poisonous blades. So he just danced around his room, hoping Jabber would get tired, that he’d give up, that he was just playing. But Jabber never got tired of fighting, and he wouldn't until the day he died.
The already mess of a room Jabber had before became even worse than before, new scratches on the walls and furniture complimented the torn papers and pillows that littered the floor.
And now, with nowhere to go or hide, Fu was cornered. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to keep away from the psychotic man’s claws right infront of him.
Jabber stepped closer, Fu couldn't back away anymore.
“C’mon, show me what you’ve got already.” He stepped forward. “Show me what I want to see, prove me right!”
Fu looked down at the doll in his hands.
It spoke to him. He listened. He always did.
And then, his world went dark.
.
.
.
.
.
He’d rather be used like a tool by someone else than be the one holding himself accountable for whatever he did, to not be responsible if something went wrong.
.
.
.
.
.
When Fu regained consciousness again, his fist was sore and Jabber was passed out on the floor infront of him.
The blood that dripped down the other’s nose and mouth to the floor matched the still fresh one on his right fist. It had been just a moment.
And there was the man that begged him to show his strenght, spayed out on the floor infront of him like a ragdoll. He probably had a concussion. Hopefully he wouldn't remember that happening when he woke up, he didn't want Jabber to keep pestering him to fight.
Fu looked around the room now, would Jabber get angry at him for this…? He had done it himself, but he was still scared he'd find a way to blame him for it…
And as he considered the idea of cleaning up the whole room for him, he imagined the man rising back up from unconciousness and finding him still there. His legs shook in fear as he looked down at the man that was still passed out, no sign of him waking up any time soon. But then again, he was unpredictable.
Fu quickly moved around him and avoided stepping on the scattered notes and papers on the ground, trying to erase all traces of him having been there at all. He reached for the doorknob and quickly exited the room, closing it behind him.
Once he was outside, he felt a breath he didn't know he was holding to escape his body. He had done it, he had done what he had been told, Jabber hadn't poisoned himself into tomorrow! And he didn't have a scratch!
He simply had Hii knock him out the next day! That's all! Yup! That was okay! That was good! That was clearly not what he had been told not to do!
He felt a buzz on his neck as his choker activated. “The boss wants to see you now.”
HE WAS SO DEAD!
And with a new order, he ran away from the mess he had made hoping Jabber would be okay. (And he wouldn't be blamed for what Hii did.)
.
.
.
“...Uuuh…” Jabber stared at the ceiling in his room like it was gonna fall. “...What the hell? Where did he go??” He tried to sit back up, but his body betrayed him and pushed him back down, hitting his head hard on the concrete floor.
He chuckled, enjoying the lingering pain his face was in and the taste of blood in his teeth. Whatever happened had been good.
“I'll get you to show me your real power one day, Fenty.” He said to no one but himself in a raspy voice, licking the blood away from his lips and staring into the nothingness.