Captive Voice (3)
Title: Captive Voice
Fandom: Jak and Daxter (Jak II)
Rating: M
Pairing: Erol/Jak
Warnings: Torture, Violence, Implied Rape
Chapter: 3/13
Notes: This chapter contains implications of rape, so the rating has gone up. This is a dark story, if you don’t think you can handle the implied events featured here then you should probably read something else. As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.
Teaser: Jak shied away from the contact-he wanted as little to do with this man as possible, and that included physical contact. He had suffered through plenty enough of his blows since he was captured to know that any meeting of his skin and Erol’s ended in pain.
Three: For Great Harm or Great Good
The coppery sheen of the metal, not to mention the rounded shape, triggered an instant recognition of Precursor technology. Nowhere else had Jak seen such strange designs, and he knew no one else was capable of fashioning metal into such smooth and calm shapes.
However, the object in question-Precursor or not-was anything but calming to his eyes. The hard copper topped a translucent funnel-like apparatus, from which ran a thin tube. The tube itself met an equally see-through sphere of the same material, from which ran a second, thinner tube, ending in what could only be a needle. The youth’s brow furrowed in confusion as Erol took the bizarre object from one of his subordinates and, holding it close to his midsection as though afraid to break it, walked into the room Jak had been shoved into only a moment before.
“Do you know what this is?” the yellow-eyed man inquired, holding the Precursor object carefully in one hand and stretching his arm out to give Jak a better look. The Captain held the object out a little further and rocked it forward in his hand, gesturing for the youth to take it.
Jak reached out and took it without hesitation. He remembered Samos’ and Keira’s words from months before regarding Precursor artifacts-they could cause great harm or great good, depending on how one knew to use them. If he could somehow figure out how to use this thing-or even what it was-then maybe he could make it do something good instead of the terribly harmful thing he was certain the Captain had in mind.
The top was warm to the touch, like all Precursor metal; the funnel the metal lidded was cold, but just as familiar in texture. The funnel was glass, not metal. His brow furrowed in confusion-the only Precursor glass he had ever seen was in the refraction lenses back in Forbidden Jungle, and it was different than this. It had been thick and perfectly smooth, not ridged like this was. This was more similar to the glass in Samos’ spectacles, or the kind Keira used in her machines. This thing was a mingling of elf and Precursor technology, and it made his stomach lurch. The last time he had seen anything combined with the work of the ancients was in Gol and Maia’s Citadel, and it had not been pretty.
He understood, without even trying to figure what the needle at the end of the strange tube was for, that there was no way for him to make good something that had been twisted by the hands of someone determined only to hurt.
Erol reached out both hands, placing one on the top of the apparatus and one on the bottom, barely brushing over Jak’s knuckles as he took the thing back. Jak shied away from the contact-he wanted as little to do with this man as possible, and that included physical contact. He had suffered through plenty enough of his blows since he was captured to know that any meeting of his skin and Erol’s ended in pain.
“You have no idea what this is, do you?” Jak didn’t move to show yes or no, but the look on the Captain’s face proved he didn’t need to. “You’re dreadfully simple, aren’t you?” He walked toward the cot fixed to the wall and leaned over, fiddling with a light-covered panel affixed to the wall, particularly with the shiny black gem set into the left side of the surface.
After a moment of Erol’s prying, what Jak had thought to be a gem revealed itself as something quite different. A copper tube emerged from the wall, headed by a convex disc of glass-what the youth had thought was a stone of some sort was in fact a window to look into the tube. The metal was clearly Precursor, but it lacked the distinguishing designs Jak had always associated with their work. He wondered if these people had somehow found a way to temper Precursor metal.
Very quickly all thoughts regarding the abilities of his captors were banished. The glass that tipped the tube from within the wall began to shimmer, flickering violet and pink and yellow, and though Jak couldn’t bring himself to widen his eyes in shock he still felt that same seizing in his chest he had felt the first moment he saw that surging liquid. It felt like years ago that he and Daxter had leaned over the exposed pool of dark eco, and to this day Jak could never wish hard enough they had never gone to Misty Island.
If they hadn’t, nothing would have happened to Daxter. They wouldn’t have been pulled into facing Gol and Maia’s plot. They would never have found that ring, that Gate, and Jak wouldn’t have found himself here.
Likewise, however, if they hadn’t gone they never would have known of Gol and Maia’s plot, never been able to face them, never found such a great artifact as that precious Gate, never allowed Keira to learn as much about Precursor technology as she did from it.
In the end, the good always outweighed the bad. If he had managed to save the world, even make it better, then he suppose some torture wasn’t that bad.
But he really didn’t like the look of that pipe.
Erol removed a glove and, using his fingernails, drew out two fine lines of copper from the top of the funnel lid. These he hooked, somehow, into the metal pipe filled with dark eco. Instantly drops of purple-black liquid began to run into the funnel and through the tube attached to it. After allowing the device to hang by the wires linking it to pipe, the Captain bent the tube around his fingers and kinked it to keep the fluid from leaking. After checking the gauges-Jak assumed the lights and dials on the wall were gauges-he turned and smiled at Jak.
“Still have no idea what this is?” He gestured to the funnel. A mere second passed with no replying motion before he sighed in exasperation and shook his head. “This device will deliver dark eco directly to your system intravenously. The showers aren’t working, so we’re going to try a more direct approach.”
With his free hand he took hold of the end of the tube, placing one finger against the needlelike object at the end, and Jak’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned.
The fight was short. The youth was already exhausted and in pain, so the guards had little trouble pinning him to the cot and strapping him down while Erol himself was given the task of inserting the needle into his hand. It was just a pinprick at first, of course, but as soon as Erol affixed the needle in place-using some sort of adhesive strips made of the same material as the tube-and let go, the dark eco began its swift trip down the line and through the hollow needle, straight into Jak’s bloodstream.
Though it was silent save for the sound of his thrashing and gasping for breath, Erol could tell Jak was screaming.
* * * *
Jak had no idea how much time had passed when he awoke, but he could assume it had been a fair amount. His head hurt like he couldn’t describe and not a single part of his body didn’t throb with a dull ache.
He sat up slowly, almost surprised that he wasn’t still restrained but not quite coherent enough to register such a feeling, and found the movement of his left hand impeded. Turning to see what he had caught it on the youth stared for several seconds at the needle driven into his skin and the tube connecting to it. He wondered if he should take it out, keep it from channeling any more of this filthy stuff into him.
There was no telling how long it had been running, though-he could very well be dependent on the dark eco to survive now. He knew Gol had been, but he had no idea how long the twisted man had exposed himself to it. Likewise, if he removed it he knew it would just bring another beating from Erol and the inevitable reinsertion of the hollow needle. There was no point in taking it out.
His brow furrowed. Was he giving up? Had he finally caved in to the pressure and decided that it wasn’t worth the trouble to fight back?
Jak narrowed his eyes, grinding his teeth. No, he hadn’t given up-he wouldn’t give up. Daxter was doing everything he could to get the elf out, Keira and Samos were looking for him; he was missed. He had to keep fighting, for their sake if not for his.
Erol and Praxis would not expect him to keep fighting. The thought of their reactions when he eventually escaped-and he would escape-brought a smile to the youth’s features. He clenched both hands into fists and set his jaw, determined to keep fighting, to keep hope, and to be the one that finally got rid of those two. He had come to think of them as his adversaries, archenemies for him to take down.
He had killed Gol and he had killed Maia, elves that had been twisted by the taint of dark eco. Now he was going to kill Praxis and Erol, elves that were responsible for tainting him with that same substance.
Electricity crackled around him and he jerked at the sensation. His eyes widened and his thoughts fell once again to dazed confusion; what had he been telling himself? His entire body hurt, he couldn’t think straight enough to tell himself anything.
And yet…
Blue eyes narrowed and he shook his head to clear it, leaning back on one hand and holding the other to his head. He really couldn’t remember anything, except that he was angry. Angry and in pain of so many kinds. He was alone.
In his current position, lost in thought, he didn’t notice that the violet bar on the metal panel set into the wall jumped three levels, nor that the skin on his left hand-needle still channeling dark eco into his bloodstream-shifted to a pale blue-tinted hue.
* * * *
“Ah, welcome back!” Erol said with a smirk, yellow eyes narrowing. “I was starting to worry we’d lost you to the IV.” In his hand he held several sheets of paper-though it was whiter and the edges straighter than Jak had ever seen-and he surveyed them as thoughtfully as he did the youth when he lifted his gaze. “The last man we had hooked to the IV didn’t stop screaming for a week after we started a drip. With you we started a full flow, and you’re up and aware in a month and a half. I’m almost proud.”
Jak, held at the arms by two of the older man’s “Crimson Guards,” spat at the older man’s feet. The guards jerked him backward as Erol surged toward him, wrapping his free hand around the youth’s neck and slamming his head against the wall.
Erol glared down at the youth, smirk never leaving his lips. “I got permission to do something special, you know. Something I think you’ll appreciate. And this is how you repay me?” His yellow eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer, his forehead brushing against Jak’s. “You should be on your knees in front of me, thanking me for what I’ve given you.”
Jak carefully worked at the tape on his hand, drawing out the needle in his skin as Erol spoke. When the Captain finished the youth turned the needle in his hands and jammed it deep into the older man’s midsection. This, he thought, would be his thanks.
Erol cried out and jerked backward, giving Jak a moment to attempt some escape. The instant, of course, was not enough-the Captain reached out with one hand and caught the youth by his hair, using the youth’s matted mane to throw him up against the wall. The tattooed man gave an angry, hungry grimace, placing one hand against Jak’s chest to hold him back, and leaned in so close his forehead brushed the boy’s.
“You have no idea what you’re trying to do, boy. This is a gift that we’re giving you-you are going to be the weapon that saves this city. You should be grateful.” He glanced over his shoulder at the guards standing at the ready outside the door and made a gesture for the guards to leave.
The door slid shut, and Jak felt a surge of fear.
Erol turned back to his captive. “I’m going to make you grateful for what we’ve done-make you glad that I hadn’t gone this far.” His hand slid down Jak’s chest and the other came up to cup the boy’s chin. “I’m going to make you scream this time, boy, scream so hard your body remembers how to speak. And this time it’s my name you’ll be screaming.”
Jak, understanding with such clarity that he knew he had been in this place too long, clenched his eyes shut and waited for the pain to come.
* * * *
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Fandom: Jak and Daxter (Jak II)
Rating: M
Pairing: Erol/Jak
Warnings: Torture, Violence, Implied Rape
Chapter: 3/13
Notes: This chapter contains implications of rape, so the rating has gone up. This is a dark story, if you don’t think you can handle the implied events featured here then you should probably read something else. As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.
Teaser: Jak shied away from the contact-he wanted as little to do with this man as possible, and that included physical contact. He had suffered through plenty enough of his blows since he was captured to know that any meeting of his skin and Erol’s ended in pain.
Three: For Great Harm or Great Good
The coppery sheen of the metal, not to mention the rounded shape, triggered an instant recognition of Precursor technology. Nowhere else had Jak seen such strange designs, and he knew no one else was capable of fashioning metal into such smooth and calm shapes.
However, the object in question-Precursor or not-was anything but calming to his eyes. The hard copper topped a translucent funnel-like apparatus, from which ran a thin tube. The tube itself met an equally see-through sphere of the same material, from which ran a second, thinner tube, ending in what could only be a needle. The youth’s brow furrowed in confusion as Erol took the bizarre object from one of his subordinates and, holding it close to his midsection as though afraid to break it, walked into the room Jak had been shoved into only a moment before.
“Do you know what this is?” the yellow-eyed man inquired, holding the Precursor object carefully in one hand and stretching his arm out to give Jak a better look. The Captain held the object out a little further and rocked it forward in his hand, gesturing for the youth to take it.
Jak reached out and took it without hesitation. He remembered Samos’ and Keira’s words from months before regarding Precursor artifacts-they could cause great harm or great good, depending on how one knew to use them. If he could somehow figure out how to use this thing-or even what it was-then maybe he could make it do something good instead of the terribly harmful thing he was certain the Captain had in mind.
The top was warm to the touch, like all Precursor metal; the funnel the metal lidded was cold, but just as familiar in texture. The funnel was glass, not metal. His brow furrowed in confusion-the only Precursor glass he had ever seen was in the refraction lenses back in Forbidden Jungle, and it was different than this. It had been thick and perfectly smooth, not ridged like this was. This was more similar to the glass in Samos’ spectacles, or the kind Keira used in her machines. This thing was a mingling of elf and Precursor technology, and it made his stomach lurch. The last time he had seen anything combined with the work of the ancients was in Gol and Maia’s Citadel, and it had not been pretty.
He understood, without even trying to figure what the needle at the end of the strange tube was for, that there was no way for him to make good something that had been twisted by the hands of someone determined only to hurt.
Erol reached out both hands, placing one on the top of the apparatus and one on the bottom, barely brushing over Jak’s knuckles as he took the thing back. Jak shied away from the contact-he wanted as little to do with this man as possible, and that included physical contact. He had suffered through plenty enough of his blows since he was captured to know that any meeting of his skin and Erol’s ended in pain.
“You have no idea what this is, do you?” Jak didn’t move to show yes or no, but the look on the Captain’s face proved he didn’t need to. “You’re dreadfully simple, aren’t you?” He walked toward the cot fixed to the wall and leaned over, fiddling with a light-covered panel affixed to the wall, particularly with the shiny black gem set into the left side of the surface.
After a moment of Erol’s prying, what Jak had thought to be a gem revealed itself as something quite different. A copper tube emerged from the wall, headed by a convex disc of glass-what the youth had thought was a stone of some sort was in fact a window to look into the tube. The metal was clearly Precursor, but it lacked the distinguishing designs Jak had always associated with their work. He wondered if these people had somehow found a way to temper Precursor metal.
Very quickly all thoughts regarding the abilities of his captors were banished. The glass that tipped the tube from within the wall began to shimmer, flickering violet and pink and yellow, and though Jak couldn’t bring himself to widen his eyes in shock he still felt that same seizing in his chest he had felt the first moment he saw that surging liquid. It felt like years ago that he and Daxter had leaned over the exposed pool of dark eco, and to this day Jak could never wish hard enough they had never gone to Misty Island.
If they hadn’t, nothing would have happened to Daxter. They wouldn’t have been pulled into facing Gol and Maia’s plot. They would never have found that ring, that Gate, and Jak wouldn’t have found himself here.
Likewise, however, if they hadn’t gone they never would have known of Gol and Maia’s plot, never been able to face them, never found such a great artifact as that precious Gate, never allowed Keira to learn as much about Precursor technology as she did from it.
In the end, the good always outweighed the bad. If he had managed to save the world, even make it better, then he suppose some torture wasn’t that bad.
But he really didn’t like the look of that pipe.
Erol removed a glove and, using his fingernails, drew out two fine lines of copper from the top of the funnel lid. These he hooked, somehow, into the metal pipe filled with dark eco. Instantly drops of purple-black liquid began to run into the funnel and through the tube attached to it. After allowing the device to hang by the wires linking it to pipe, the Captain bent the tube around his fingers and kinked it to keep the fluid from leaking. After checking the gauges-Jak assumed the lights and dials on the wall were gauges-he turned and smiled at Jak.
“Still have no idea what this is?” He gestured to the funnel. A mere second passed with no replying motion before he sighed in exasperation and shook his head. “This device will deliver dark eco directly to your system intravenously. The showers aren’t working, so we’re going to try a more direct approach.”
With his free hand he took hold of the end of the tube, placing one finger against the needlelike object at the end, and Jak’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned.
The fight was short. The youth was already exhausted and in pain, so the guards had little trouble pinning him to the cot and strapping him down while Erol himself was given the task of inserting the needle into his hand. It was just a pinprick at first, of course, but as soon as Erol affixed the needle in place-using some sort of adhesive strips made of the same material as the tube-and let go, the dark eco began its swift trip down the line and through the hollow needle, straight into Jak’s bloodstream.
Though it was silent save for the sound of his thrashing and gasping for breath, Erol could tell Jak was screaming.
* * * *
Jak had no idea how much time had passed when he awoke, but he could assume it had been a fair amount. His head hurt like he couldn’t describe and not a single part of his body didn’t throb with a dull ache.
He sat up slowly, almost surprised that he wasn’t still restrained but not quite coherent enough to register such a feeling, and found the movement of his left hand impeded. Turning to see what he had caught it on the youth stared for several seconds at the needle driven into his skin and the tube connecting to it. He wondered if he should take it out, keep it from channeling any more of this filthy stuff into him.
There was no telling how long it had been running, though-he could very well be dependent on the dark eco to survive now. He knew Gol had been, but he had no idea how long the twisted man had exposed himself to it. Likewise, if he removed it he knew it would just bring another beating from Erol and the inevitable reinsertion of the hollow needle. There was no point in taking it out.
His brow furrowed. Was he giving up? Had he finally caved in to the pressure and decided that it wasn’t worth the trouble to fight back?
Jak narrowed his eyes, grinding his teeth. No, he hadn’t given up-he wouldn’t give up. Daxter was doing everything he could to get the elf out, Keira and Samos were looking for him; he was missed. He had to keep fighting, for their sake if not for his.
Erol and Praxis would not expect him to keep fighting. The thought of their reactions when he eventually escaped-and he would escape-brought a smile to the youth’s features. He clenched both hands into fists and set his jaw, determined to keep fighting, to keep hope, and to be the one that finally got rid of those two. He had come to think of them as his adversaries, archenemies for him to take down.
He had killed Gol and he had killed Maia, elves that had been twisted by the taint of dark eco. Now he was going to kill Praxis and Erol, elves that were responsible for tainting him with that same substance.
Electricity crackled around him and he jerked at the sensation. His eyes widened and his thoughts fell once again to dazed confusion; what had he been telling himself? His entire body hurt, he couldn’t think straight enough to tell himself anything.
And yet…
Blue eyes narrowed and he shook his head to clear it, leaning back on one hand and holding the other to his head. He really couldn’t remember anything, except that he was angry. Angry and in pain of so many kinds. He was alone.
In his current position, lost in thought, he didn’t notice that the violet bar on the metal panel set into the wall jumped three levels, nor that the skin on his left hand-needle still channeling dark eco into his bloodstream-shifted to a pale blue-tinted hue.
* * * *
“Ah, welcome back!” Erol said with a smirk, yellow eyes narrowing. “I was starting to worry we’d lost you to the IV.” In his hand he held several sheets of paper-though it was whiter and the edges straighter than Jak had ever seen-and he surveyed them as thoughtfully as he did the youth when he lifted his gaze. “The last man we had hooked to the IV didn’t stop screaming for a week after we started a drip. With you we started a full flow, and you’re up and aware in a month and a half. I’m almost proud.”
Jak, held at the arms by two of the older man’s “Crimson Guards,” spat at the older man’s feet. The guards jerked him backward as Erol surged toward him, wrapping his free hand around the youth’s neck and slamming his head against the wall.
Erol glared down at the youth, smirk never leaving his lips. “I got permission to do something special, you know. Something I think you’ll appreciate. And this is how you repay me?” His yellow eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer, his forehead brushing against Jak’s. “You should be on your knees in front of me, thanking me for what I’ve given you.”
Jak carefully worked at the tape on his hand, drawing out the needle in his skin as Erol spoke. When the Captain finished the youth turned the needle in his hands and jammed it deep into the older man’s midsection. This, he thought, would be his thanks.
Erol cried out and jerked backward, giving Jak a moment to attempt some escape. The instant, of course, was not enough-the Captain reached out with one hand and caught the youth by his hair, using the youth’s matted mane to throw him up against the wall. The tattooed man gave an angry, hungry grimace, placing one hand against Jak’s chest to hold him back, and leaned in so close his forehead brushed the boy’s.
“You have no idea what you’re trying to do, boy. This is a gift that we’re giving you-you are going to be the weapon that saves this city. You should be grateful.” He glanced over his shoulder at the guards standing at the ready outside the door and made a gesture for the guards to leave.
The door slid shut, and Jak felt a surge of fear.
Erol turned back to his captive. “I’m going to make you grateful for what we’ve done-make you glad that I hadn’t gone this far.” His hand slid down Jak’s chest and the other came up to cup the boy’s chin. “I’m going to make you scream this time, boy, scream so hard your body remembers how to speak. And this time it’s my name you’ll be screaming.”
Jak, understanding with such clarity that he knew he had been in this place too long, clenched his eyes shut and waited for the pain to come.
* * * *
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