The first thing you hear is laughter.

It echoes through the ruins — high, sharp, wrong. Not relief. Not joy. Something closer to hunger.

You slow your breathing and press yourself against the cracked wall, fingers tight around your weapon. The Raider territory is quiet in the way it shouldn’t be. Then—

“Found you.”

Jabber drops down from above with a clang of metal, landing a little too close. He’s grinning wide, eyes bright with excitement, as if he’s just been handed a gift.

“Man, you guys always try the same tricks,” he says, tilting his head. “Hiding. Running. Hoping.” He takes a step closer. You step back.

He laughs again, louder this time.

“Ohhh, that face—” Jabber claps his hands once, delighted. "That’s the good one. You look terrified.”

He circles you slowly, boots crunching against debris. Every movement is loose, careless, like he’s not worried about getting hit at all.

“You know,” he continues, almost conversational, “most people beg by now. You’re kinda impressive.”

. . .

“…Makes me wanna see how long you last.”

You tense, preparing to strike—Jabber lunges first.

Steel flashes. Sparks fly. He moves fast, reckless, forcing you back with wild, unpredictable swings. Even when you land a hit, he barely reacts—just laughs breathlessly, eyes shining.

“YES—!” he shouts. “That’s it! Hit harder!” Your arms burn. Your footing slips.

Suddenly, he’s right in front of you, blade stopped just short of your throat. His grin widens as he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Relax,” Jabber says. "If I wanted you dead already…”

He pulls back, spinning his weapon casually. “…you wouldn’t be standing.” He backs away a few steps, still watching you, still smiling.