Cry Wolf (Jabber/Zanka, Gachiakuta)
Working on a new fic and will post snippets as I go!
tags: kidnapping, hostage, protective jabber, rescue, hurt/comfort, torture
summary: Zodyl kidnaps Zanka and holds him for ransom, demanding payment from the Hell Guard. As his torture grows more and more severe, Jabber makes a decision:
Fuck the Raiders. Fuck Zodyl.
Zanka… I’m gettin’ you out of here.
It had started off as a mild and pleasant afternoon, like any other. Zanka had come into town after training to clear his head, stopping by the candy market to pick up treats for his team. He had been leaned against the alleyway, savoring a small piece of chocolate, when a cold chill suddenly ran down his spine.
He scans across the crowd of people quickly, his heart full of adrenaline as he clutches his staff. Just as he’s about to turn around, a sharp and painful prick hits the back of his neck.
His entire body freezes up with a paralyzing spasm. Soft giggling laughter rings out in his ears as he falls backwards into Jabber’s open arms.
“Caught ya,” Jabber giggles, his face flushed with glee as he drags him slowly back into the alley. “Sorry, buddy… boss man sent me to pick you up. You like the poison?”
Zanka tries to shout, but his throat only gargles in response. He tries to reach for his choker, but his arm barely twitches. The lights all around him turn into sickening rainbows. He feels his eyes lulling sideways as spit drips slowly down his cheek.
“Pretty trippy, right? Can’t move, right? I made this one just for you...”
Anger explodes in his chest, pounding viciously against the paralysis. Why is it always him!? Every ounce of strength in his blood is completely useless against the poison. But his fury quickly gives way to apathy as he feels his eyelids droop shut. His vision wavers in blackness as he feels himself being dragged slowly backwards into the Raider’s portal.
Zanka somehow knows, in the dark and hazy minutes before his eyelids flutter open, that whatever situation he’s in is worse than anything he’s dealt with before. His body seems to realize it before his mind.
Waking up only confirms it. As feeling floods back into his limbs, he realizes with a jolt of dread that his arms are handcuffed above his head. Handcuffed. His legs are shoulder width apart, each ankle cuffed to some kind of chain link fence behind him. He’s underground- deep underground. The air is suffocating, thick with the cloying scent of trash that clings to the back of his throat. He feels like he’s going to throw up.
Slave traders, traffickers, religious freaks- who the hell took him? Where is he? He tries and fails to break free as the sound of footsteps slowly come in from around the corner.
“Good,” Zodyl says darkly. “You’re awake.”
