Somewh-- Haven City, Sunday Night till Monday Morning Fandom Time
The garbage chute opened. Jak's feet hit the pavement with a nearly silent noise -- finally leaving the Baron's Palace behind. There was still the crackle of something dark underneath his skin that he couldn't push away, that kept barely contained in place. Now, though, his attention was pulled into another direction as he looked up, his eyes adjusting back to the sunlight.
Wherever they were, it was dirty. It smelled like piss and something unsavoury that came up from the sewers. None of these rickety buildings were anything like what he remembered his world was like, so where--
"Excuse me, young man--" some old guy started. Right. Bad call.
"You look like a reasonably smart man," Jak snapped, getting straight up in his face, "I want information. Where the hell am I?"
Daxter
Eheheh...
Daxter jumped from his perch on Jak's shoulder and gestured with one thumb over his own back toward him.
"Uh, sorry. He's new to the whole... conversation thing."
But he certainly seemed to be catching on to the whole talking thing. That was kinda new and exciting, right?
Kor & Jak
"Well, my... angry young friend, you were a guest of his 'Majesty', Baron Praxis, the 'glorious' ruler of Haven City." The old man smiled as politely as he could, herding his young-- son, grandson, whatever-- behind him.
Yeah, whatever. If this guy had a beef with Praxis, he could join the damn club. "I was just a guest in the good Baron's prison," Jak spat, his veins thrumming with it, gesturing with one hand.
"Inside a cell, or inside the city: walls surround us both," the old man spoke, loftily. "We are all his prisoners."
Jak crossed his arms, eying the man. Like he had time to deal with speeches.
"--talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time," the man said, abruptly, turning to look over his shoulder. Red men in red armor-- oh, Jak knew the kind. "We'd better move on..."
Daxter
Moving on sounded like a good idea to Daxter, yes indeed. He'd had a bit of time to learn the ropes of this city, and those guys there were one of those ropes that he didn't care to get too close to.
"By order of his eminence, the grand protector of Haven City, Baron Praxis," one of those soldiers in red announced, "everyone in this section is hereby under arrest for suspicion of harboring underground fugitives. Surrender and die."
Oookay. Daxter had to take this moment to abandon all instincts of self-preservation as he trotted up to the soldier who had addressed them.
"Eeh... Excuse me, sir," he began, meekly, "don't you mean, surrender, OR die!?"
Jak vs Krimzon Guard
"Not in this city," the old man said, backing away even further. The kid was herded behind him with the help of his cane. "Protect us from these men, and I will introduce you to someone who can help you!"
Tough choice. The blood under Jak's skin was singing. Get a good fight, get some information, get somewhere to go? No problem.
As the red guards started to pile out of the ship, Jak's bearing shifted. His insides rolled, that spark doubling in size, then tripling. Something purple arched off his cheek, reacting briefly to the dark eco in Dax's body-- judging it friendly, maybe.
It swelled and crackled and suddenly it was pounding, roaring through every inch of him, transforming it: white skin, long horns, claws, and rage. PRAXIS PRAXIS PRAXIS, a beating rant in his head, and all he could see were the uniforms. Red on red on red and then dead, falling before those sharp claws and the endless crackle of dark eco that roared out of him, forward, frying their tissues and ruining nerve endings.
The battle was over before it began. Just the component ecos remained, scattered across the ground before they coagulated, then shot out, pulled to Jak's body like a magnet.
It was still crackling. Still demanding more. Still--
Jak pushed back, his skin regaining colour, his claws receding. His skin was tight, his muscles were tight, it was all he could do to breathe. "Something's... happening to me," he ground out, "I can't-- control it."
It hurt except it didn't, it was just-- wanting.
Daxter
Daxter's initial reaction of glee tapered off somewhat after his exclamation of, "That was cool! Do it again!" All it took was a moment of letting the fact that Jak wasn't looking so hot actually sink in.
So, while the old guy with the bad facial hair mused on how impressive the whole display had been (and really, it was pretty darn nifty), Daxter's hand went up to scratch at his noggin while he reassessed the situation, here.
"Uhhh... You okay, Jak?"
"What you just did was very brave," the old man continued, and then gestured to the pipsqueak that he was standing beside. "This child is important."
"This kid?" Dax sauntered on over to poke the boy in the shoulder. The kid, meanwhile, threw his arms over his head and attempted to cower away from him. "... He looks kinda scruffy."
Daxter was so totally not impressed!
Kor & Jak
Yeah, that whole moment was interrupted by more red guards-- "YOU ARE IN A RESTRICTED ZONE. MOVE ALONG." -- well, at least not trying to kill them. Jak frowned up at the large zoomer as it pulled away. Hmph.
"Thank you for your help," the old man said, "But I must get this child to safety."
Daxter
"Hey!" Oh, Daxter wasn't going to let those two get away that easily! "What about us?"
"There's an underground group waging war against Baron Praxis," the man replied. At least he had the decency to give some good advice along with all of that preachy mumbo-jumbo. "Its leader, the Shadow, could use fighters like you. Go to the slums. Find a dead-end alley near the city wall. Ask for Torn. He can help you."
And with that, the man turned and walked away, leading the scruffy little kid along with him.
---
So after a brief stop to look at the sights - hah, the sights. The slums of Haven smelled like piss and looked like them; if Jak had still been the same boy who crashed into this world years ago, he wouldn't have been able to comprehend half of the squalor of the slums. Anyway, the scenery really didn't matter. Jak had only one goal in mind, and that goal rested on his fat ass in the Palace.
And the way things looked, there was only one lead he had to get there. Torn. The Underground. As it turned out, the little cul de sac they housed in stank twice as much, gun oil intermingling with urine.
Charming.
As it turned out, Torn was already waiting for him when he got there. Torn, and some crazy blonde chick, who was the first to get in Jak's face, her hands on her hips and a deathglare in her eyes.
Yeah. Whatever. "We're looking for a guy named Torn," Jak said. Like these jokers were going to intimidate him. The guy in red with the tattoos and the dreadlocks approached, all grim self-assurance. "Kor sent us--" Jak continued.
The other guy leaned his full weight towards Jak, trying to knock him out of his personal space. "Are you... Torn?" Jak asked, edging away a little despite his better judgement. Fuck. Where the hell had they landed--?
"Maybe this guy is a mute," Daxter intervened, helpfully, sticking his head between the two of them, "You know, like you used to be."
"New faces make me nervous," Big Guy -- Torn, probably -- told him, prodding Jak in the chest with his finger. Right. Okay, that was it. He wasn't going to back down out of this one like he might've done a couple of years back. He wasn't going to take any of this. Jak's face scrunched up into a glare, a growl heavy on the back of his throat, dark eco rumbling lightly under his skin.
"Word is you're out to join the fight for the city," Torn continued. He paced a long, leisurely circle around Jak, sizing him up, looking down on him. Whatever. Jak could take anything he gave and smoke it. "You know..." he said, pushing forward, getting back into Jak's face, "Picking the wrong side could be... unhealthy."
"I want to see the Shadow," Jak snapped. He wasn't amused when Torn started to laugh.
"Not likely," Torn said, and laughed again, turning away abruptly. Again. Like Jak wasn't worth squat. "If you want to join something, why don't you and your pet go join the circus."
At his feet, Dax had similar ideas, baring his little Ottsel teeth at Torn's back. "Unless you've got the fur for a really tough task," Torn said, pulling out his dagger, considering it. Sliding his finger along the edge. "Steal the Baron's banner from the top of the Ruined Tower, and bring it back. Then..." He threw the dagger into the air, and let it spin, "Maybe we'll talk."
Fine. Jak was up for the ride.
Although he had to admit, if the slums were bad, then he wasn't sure if there was a word left for what kind of a mess Dead Town was. Half the buildings had sunk way down into the swamp, and the few that hadn't stuck out like pockmarked teeth, crawling with lizards. No trouble.
They ran their way across the ruins, crushing the lizards and taking what component ecos they left behind. Dark, all of it; Jak wasn't really surprised to find that the animals here seemed to be soaked in dark eco. Foul fucking place that it was.
He made it to the tower in record time, scaling the long, jagged protusions that curled their way up from the base to the top. Sometimes, they shattered behind him, clattering down into the water below. This place was slowly decomposing.
He found the flag there, way up on the tower, grabbed it with both hands and tugged--
-- and then there was a loud, crumbling noise, as suddenly the ground gave way beneath him, sending him soaring down --
-- his feet found purchase on a stray cable, and he bent through his knees, sliding down, down on the soles of his heavy boots. Never could've managed that if he still went around barefoot like he used to. Take note: boots came in handy.
Within seconds, he was down, his feet hitting the ground, the flag still firm in his hands, and hey, look, Torn had been watching--
Splat.
He threw Dax a look. The ottsel had just landed on his face. Um.
Thud. Crash.
That was no ottsel. That was in fact the tower. That was in fact the tower falling apart, the last of its supports torn off by Jak's impromptu dash up the battlements. The top tore loose from the bottom and went sailing down into the marsh, crushing lizards underneath; the bottom lost parts left and irght, falling along, some raining down on the few scraps of mainland there were left.
"...Yeah," Torn said, staring. He sounded like he didn't believe his own words. "...I guess you guys are in."
---
The first night wasn't very kind. Up there in that bunk bed in the Underground hideout, at least a dozen others snoring soundly, Dax by his side on the bed-- and he couldn't sleep. Every second there was another burn just underneath his skin, wrestling to get back to the surface, tear and rend with this overwhelming rage he couldn't even fully grasp. It was just. There.
When he closed his eyes, he saw Errol. He heard voices. Images that had been blurred when they'd first passed him by became vivid and powerful and that burn just kept. On. Pushing. Reminding him. Praxis. Screaming for an age. Something violet cut through the darkness, arched up towards the ceiling.
"Jak," Dax said, urgently. "You're doing it again, buddy."
Jak curled his lips into a silent snarl and dug his fingernails into his palms until the blackness receded and the heat tipped to just below the boiling point.
[[ taken from 'jak ii: renegade', NFB, NFI, OOC-okay, and muchas gracias, raspberryturk, for writing me some dax ]]
Wherever they were, it was dirty. It smelled like piss and something unsavoury that came up from the sewers. None of these rickety buildings were anything like what he remembered his world was like, so where--
"Excuse me, young man--" some old guy started. Right. Bad call.
"You look like a reasonably smart man," Jak snapped, getting straight up in his face, "I want information. Where the hell am I?"
Daxter
Eheheh...
Daxter jumped from his perch on Jak's shoulder and gestured with one thumb over his own back toward him.
"Uh, sorry. He's new to the whole... conversation thing."
But he certainly seemed to be catching on to the whole talking thing. That was kinda new and exciting, right?
Kor & Jak
"Well, my... angry young friend, you were a guest of his 'Majesty', Baron Praxis, the 'glorious' ruler of Haven City." The old man smiled as politely as he could, herding his young-- son, grandson, whatever-- behind him.
Yeah, whatever. If this guy had a beef with Praxis, he could join the damn club. "I was just a guest in the good Baron's prison," Jak spat, his veins thrumming with it, gesturing with one hand.
"Inside a cell, or inside the city: walls surround us both," the old man spoke, loftily. "We are all his prisoners."
Jak crossed his arms, eying the man. Like he had time to deal with speeches.
"--talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time," the man said, abruptly, turning to look over his shoulder. Red men in red armor-- oh, Jak knew the kind. "We'd better move on..."
Daxter
Moving on sounded like a good idea to Daxter, yes indeed. He'd had a bit of time to learn the ropes of this city, and those guys there were one of those ropes that he didn't care to get too close to.
"By order of his eminence, the grand protector of Haven City, Baron Praxis," one of those soldiers in red announced, "everyone in this section is hereby under arrest for suspicion of harboring underground fugitives. Surrender and die."
Oookay. Daxter had to take this moment to abandon all instincts of self-preservation as he trotted up to the soldier who had addressed them.
"Eeh... Excuse me, sir," he began, meekly, "don't you mean, surrender, OR die!?"
Jak vs Krimzon Guard
"Not in this city," the old man said, backing away even further. The kid was herded behind him with the help of his cane. "Protect us from these men, and I will introduce you to someone who can help you!"
Tough choice. The blood under Jak's skin was singing. Get a good fight, get some information, get somewhere to go? No problem.
As the red guards started to pile out of the ship, Jak's bearing shifted. His insides rolled, that spark doubling in size, then tripling. Something purple arched off his cheek, reacting briefly to the dark eco in Dax's body-- judging it friendly, maybe.
It swelled and crackled and suddenly it was pounding, roaring through every inch of him, transforming it: white skin, long horns, claws, and rage. PRAXIS PRAXIS PRAXIS, a beating rant in his head, and all he could see were the uniforms. Red on red on red and then dead, falling before those sharp claws and the endless crackle of dark eco that roared out of him, forward, frying their tissues and ruining nerve endings.
The battle was over before it began. Just the component ecos remained, scattered across the ground before they coagulated, then shot out, pulled to Jak's body like a magnet.
It was still crackling. Still demanding more. Still--
Jak pushed back, his skin regaining colour, his claws receding. His skin was tight, his muscles were tight, it was all he could do to breathe. "Something's... happening to me," he ground out, "I can't-- control it."
It hurt except it didn't, it was just-- wanting.
Daxter
Daxter's initial reaction of glee tapered off somewhat after his exclamation of, "That was cool! Do it again!" All it took was a moment of letting the fact that Jak wasn't looking so hot actually sink in.
So, while the old guy with the bad facial hair mused on how impressive the whole display had been (and really, it was pretty darn nifty), Daxter's hand went up to scratch at his noggin while he reassessed the situation, here.
"Uhhh... You okay, Jak?"
"What you just did was very brave," the old man continued, and then gestured to the pipsqueak that he was standing beside. "This child is important."
"This kid?" Dax sauntered on over to poke the boy in the shoulder. The kid, meanwhile, threw his arms over his head and attempted to cower away from him. "... He looks kinda scruffy."
Daxter was so totally not impressed!
Kor & Jak
Yeah, that whole moment was interrupted by more red guards-- "YOU ARE IN A RESTRICTED ZONE. MOVE ALONG." -- well, at least not trying to kill them. Jak frowned up at the large zoomer as it pulled away. Hmph.
"Thank you for your help," the old man said, "But I must get this child to safety."
Daxter
"Hey!" Oh, Daxter wasn't going to let those two get away that easily! "What about us?"
"There's an underground group waging war against Baron Praxis," the man replied. At least he had the decency to give some good advice along with all of that preachy mumbo-jumbo. "Its leader, the Shadow, could use fighters like you. Go to the slums. Find a dead-end alley near the city wall. Ask for Torn. He can help you."
And with that, the man turned and walked away, leading the scruffy little kid along with him.
---
So after a brief stop to look at the sights - hah, the sights. The slums of Haven smelled like piss and looked like them; if Jak had still been the same boy who crashed into this world years ago, he wouldn't have been able to comprehend half of the squalor of the slums. Anyway, the scenery really didn't matter. Jak had only one goal in mind, and that goal rested on his fat ass in the Palace.
And the way things looked, there was only one lead he had to get there. Torn. The Underground. As it turned out, the little cul de sac they housed in stank twice as much, gun oil intermingling with urine.
Charming.
As it turned out, Torn was already waiting for him when he got there. Torn, and some crazy blonde chick, who was the first to get in Jak's face, her hands on her hips and a deathglare in her eyes.
Yeah. Whatever. "We're looking for a guy named Torn," Jak said. Like these jokers were going to intimidate him. The guy in red with the tattoos and the dreadlocks approached, all grim self-assurance. "Kor sent us--" Jak continued.
The other guy leaned his full weight towards Jak, trying to knock him out of his personal space. "Are you... Torn?" Jak asked, edging away a little despite his better judgement. Fuck. Where the hell had they landed--?
"Maybe this guy is a mute," Daxter intervened, helpfully, sticking his head between the two of them, "You know, like you used to be."
"New faces make me nervous," Big Guy -- Torn, probably -- told him, prodding Jak in the chest with his finger. Right. Okay, that was it. He wasn't going to back down out of this one like he might've done a couple of years back. He wasn't going to take any of this. Jak's face scrunched up into a glare, a growl heavy on the back of his throat, dark eco rumbling lightly under his skin.
"Word is you're out to join the fight for the city," Torn continued. He paced a long, leisurely circle around Jak, sizing him up, looking down on him. Whatever. Jak could take anything he gave and smoke it. "You know..." he said, pushing forward, getting back into Jak's face, "Picking the wrong side could be... unhealthy."
"I want to see the Shadow," Jak snapped. He wasn't amused when Torn started to laugh.
"Not likely," Torn said, and laughed again, turning away abruptly. Again. Like Jak wasn't worth squat. "If you want to join something, why don't you and your pet go join the circus."
At his feet, Dax had similar ideas, baring his little Ottsel teeth at Torn's back. "Unless you've got the fur for a really tough task," Torn said, pulling out his dagger, considering it. Sliding his finger along the edge. "Steal the Baron's banner from the top of the Ruined Tower, and bring it back. Then..." He threw the dagger into the air, and let it spin, "Maybe we'll talk."
Fine. Jak was up for the ride.
Although he had to admit, if the slums were bad, then he wasn't sure if there was a word left for what kind of a mess Dead Town was. Half the buildings had sunk way down into the swamp, and the few that hadn't stuck out like pockmarked teeth, crawling with lizards. No trouble.
They ran their way across the ruins, crushing the lizards and taking what component ecos they left behind. Dark, all of it; Jak wasn't really surprised to find that the animals here seemed to be soaked in dark eco. Foul fucking place that it was.
He made it to the tower in record time, scaling the long, jagged protusions that curled their way up from the base to the top. Sometimes, they shattered behind him, clattering down into the water below. This place was slowly decomposing.
He found the flag there, way up on the tower, grabbed it with both hands and tugged--
-- and then there was a loud, crumbling noise, as suddenly the ground gave way beneath him, sending him soaring down --
-- his feet found purchase on a stray cable, and he bent through his knees, sliding down, down on the soles of his heavy boots. Never could've managed that if he still went around barefoot like he used to. Take note: boots came in handy.
Within seconds, he was down, his feet hitting the ground, the flag still firm in his hands, and hey, look, Torn had been watching--
Splat.
He threw Dax a look. The ottsel had just landed on his face. Um.
Thud. Crash.
That was no ottsel. That was in fact the tower. That was in fact the tower falling apart, the last of its supports torn off by Jak's impromptu dash up the battlements. The top tore loose from the bottom and went sailing down into the marsh, crushing lizards underneath; the bottom lost parts left and irght, falling along, some raining down on the few scraps of mainland there were left.
"...Yeah," Torn said, staring. He sounded like he didn't believe his own words. "...I guess you guys are in."
---
The first night wasn't very kind. Up there in that bunk bed in the Underground hideout, at least a dozen others snoring soundly, Dax by his side on the bed-- and he couldn't sleep. Every second there was another burn just underneath his skin, wrestling to get back to the surface, tear and rend with this overwhelming rage he couldn't even fully grasp. It was just. There.
When he closed his eyes, he saw Errol. He heard voices. Images that had been blurred when they'd first passed him by became vivid and powerful and that burn just kept. On. Pushing. Reminding him. Praxis. Screaming for an age. Something violet cut through the darkness, arched up towards the ceiling.
"Jak," Dax said, urgently. "You're doing it again, buddy."
Jak curled his lips into a silent snarl and dug his fingernails into his palms until the blackness receded and the heat tipped to just below the boiling point.
[[ taken from 'jak ii: renegade', NFB, NFI, OOC-okay, and muchas gracias, raspberryturk, for writing me some dax ]]