I'm the driver, I'm in control
Characters: shadesofeco, ecopiracy, maybe more? [closed]
Location: Deck 20
Date: present
Rating: PG-13 I think
To say it had been a rough month for Jak would be the understatement of the decade. First there were those stupid handcuffs, then that disastrous journey into Carnival where almost everyone was slaughtered, half by Daxter. Then came the revelation of Jinx's rape, and all the memories just came flooding back.
Not that this was an unusual thing. Ever since he broke out of prison, Jak had been dealing with the demons and monsters in his head, the memories and trauma and nightmares. He was an underfed, scrawny, angry seventeen year old filled with a poison that threatened to strip away his sanity; he had no idea how to deal with any of that, how to come to terms with his new freedom.
In Haven, it was simple enough. He'd been trusted with a gun and multiple upgrades barely a few days in, and had several bosses ordering him all over the city. Gun down a few guards, steal a few bags of eco, sabotage some bombs, slaughter a swarm of Metal Heads. Violence and aggression. Something to keep his adrenaline pumping and give him a reason to exist, make him feel like his effort was worth something, to keep his mind and body distracted until he was tired enough to pass out for a few hours.
It worked surprisingly well, but that was in wartime. Then it wasn't strange to drink yourself into a coma to blot out the memories, or keep going for days on end you were forced onto a bunk and taken off duty. It took Jak a while to adapt to a calmer pace of life after the Dark Maker war, and even longer to get used to the relative luxury of the Elegante, but eventually he found himself slowing down and taking things easier. He even mellowed a little, making a few friends and enjoying himself.
But now, as he laid back beneath a replica of the Javelin X with a wrench in his hand and a flashlight between his teeth, Jak was as far from mellow as he could get. He had a decent night's sleep under his belt thanks to Roll, but he hadn't slept in the days since, and once again there were dark shadows beneath his eyes.
Tired, anxious, on edge. Too much in his head and no idea what to do with it. Training hadn't helped, Daxter was fussing and annoying him, not even going to Sergei's had worked.
So Jak fell back on his other love. Vehicles. Concentrating on fine tuning cars and zoomers kept his hands and mind occupied. He might not have been as good at it as Keira, and the computer could do it all for him (and better) if he wanted. But the smell of the oil and the claustrophobic space were just what he needed right then, and he blocked out everything else.
Location: Deck 20
Date: present
Rating: PG-13 I think
To say it had been a rough month for Jak would be the understatement of the decade. First there were those stupid handcuffs, then that disastrous journey into Carnival where almost everyone was slaughtered, half by Daxter. Then came the revelation of Jinx's rape, and all the memories just came flooding back.
Not that this was an unusual thing. Ever since he broke out of prison, Jak had been dealing with the demons and monsters in his head, the memories and trauma and nightmares. He was an underfed, scrawny, angry seventeen year old filled with a poison that threatened to strip away his sanity; he had no idea how to deal with any of that, how to come to terms with his new freedom.
In Haven, it was simple enough. He'd been trusted with a gun and multiple upgrades barely a few days in, and had several bosses ordering him all over the city. Gun down a few guards, steal a few bags of eco, sabotage some bombs, slaughter a swarm of Metal Heads. Violence and aggression. Something to keep his adrenaline pumping and give him a reason to exist, make him feel like his effort was worth something, to keep his mind and body distracted until he was tired enough to pass out for a few hours.
It worked surprisingly well, but that was in wartime. Then it wasn't strange to drink yourself into a coma to blot out the memories, or keep going for days on end you were forced onto a bunk and taken off duty. It took Jak a while to adapt to a calmer pace of life after the Dark Maker war, and even longer to get used to the relative luxury of the Elegante, but eventually he found himself slowing down and taking things easier. He even mellowed a little, making a few friends and enjoying himself.
But now, as he laid back beneath a replica of the Javelin X with a wrench in his hand and a flashlight between his teeth, Jak was as far from mellow as he could get. He had a decent night's sleep under his belt thanks to Roll, but he hadn't slept in the days since, and once again there were dark shadows beneath his eyes.
Tired, anxious, on edge. Too much in his head and no idea what to do with it. Training hadn't helped, Daxter was fussing and annoying him, not even going to Sergei's had worked.
So Jak fell back on his other love. Vehicles. Concentrating on fine tuning cars and zoomers kept his hands and mind occupied. He might not have been as good at it as Keira, and the computer could do it all for him (and better) if he wanted. But the smell of the oil and the claustrophobic space were just what he needed right then, and he blocked out everything else.