As you can see, rumours of my authorial demise have been greatly exagerated. I am rooted in this place and cannot be driven out. So HA! Right now, I merely work in the shadows.
Anyway. Jak and Daxter. And don’t worry, there is a fic further down. I just have to rant a little first.
I swear, if I see ONE MORE Jak/Torn romance fic, I’m gonna… gnar. Then again, they are better than Jak/Daxter. Yes, while he’s a rodent. At least Erol/Jak has some canon weight, though it’s as twisted as the RPGC family tree. (To make a definition for those who have not played the games, pairing Erol with Jak is something like writing an FF7 Hojo/Vincent romance. With a little less “EW, EW, EWW!” though. Erol doesn’t giggle as much as Hojo.)
I don’t have anything against shounen ai (boy/boy) romance, but I did not quite catch the part of the Jak and Daxter trilogy where they stated that the games were homosexual dating sims. I guess all the gunfire and hopping around for dear life got to my head, eh?
I do however belong to the crowd that will never forgive Naughty Dog for what they did to Keira in the third game. If they are going to break up her and Jak and pair him with Ashelin instead, at least show the way it happened instead of suddenly turning Keira from a perky and able mechanic into a dreamy-eyed bit character with three lines in the entire game. Way to throw away two games’ endings of ALMOST getting kissed by one gal and then get kissed by the other in the final one. What happened with Torn/Ashelin, huh? HUH?
Ah-nee-way, it’s story time.
<u><center>… And Life gave me Lemons</u></center>
He was sixteen, and too young to die.
Around him, the world seemed to come to a standstill during that final second. The screams of his comrades and the gunfire mingled with the screeches of savage beasts, becoming a deafening tornado filling his ears. It crashed around inside his brain; a foretaste of the hell the gigantic claw hovering above him promised.
He had never been a believer, but now his entire being cried out to any god that might have bothered to care about a useless little wretch like him; <I>I have always tried, I swear I tried, have mercy!</I>
The precursors remained silent. But the monster above him grinned, fangs dripping with saliva illuminated by the fizzling from broken cables and the explosions from fired guns.
It was almost funny. He could no longer feel the pain in his leg, though the sticky warmth still managed to register in his brain. Perhaps this was the only mercy he deserved.
The claw began its descent, to the young soldier’s eyes moving slowly, almost lazily. Bitterly he wondered if this was not the moment for a hero to step in – yet he knew there were no heroes in this time and age.
‘Mother…’
Stars filled his vision, an eternal chasm lined with the brightest light.
Death?
But no; it moved.
With a loud smash and a roar of pain from the beast, the weight pinning him down disappeared. The universe followed it.
Dazed, he managed to heave himself halfway up in a sitting position, but crashed back down with black spots dancing before his eyes.
“Hold yer yakows, rookie!” a hoarse voice said, and a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, “you’re stayin’ right here.”
Rookie.
The hated word sent blazes through his misting brain, and all the agony from his wounds crashed down. It was as if the world had turned into a sadistic being only intent on making his life living hell. Only humiliation had been missing up until now.
He tried to focus, to form a protest, defend himself. However, as soon as he caught sight of the grim, scarred face above him, the protests sounded limp even before he had attempted to speak up.
His protector appeared even scarier than the metal heads, in fact. Especially when he grinned evilly.
“Yer missing a good show, but at least you’ll be able to say ye were here,” the blonde stranger said, “lay low, kiddo.”
Giving the confused soldier’s shoulder a pat, Jinx straightened up and raised his hand as a signal to his part of the troops.
“Everyone follow Pretty Boy!”
They dashed from the shadows and rooftops, blades and guns held in dirty hands taught by a desperate need to survive. It had not been easy to pull them out of hiding, but Jinx had hoarded them up like a sheep dog. They were thieves, murderers, gangsters – Krew’s finest, in fact. The soldiers under Torn’s command would have been surprised, had they not already been staring at the enigma which tore a path through the army of metal heads.
Via radio Torn had informed his troops that “trustworthy” aid would be coming in to help them, but they had not expected an otherworldly, silvery creature moving so quick that the brain hardly could register it.
The metal heads on the other hand seemed to know exactly what they were dealing with. Like one creature they abandoned their earlier prey, and turned onto the lone fighter in their midst. Black snakes and hulking giants soared over and into their brethren, roaring in agony after facing the wrath of this warrior. However the entire horde descended on the intruder in a storm of hungry jaws and gigantic claws, and the light drowned.
Jinx watched this, for a moment frozen in mid step. His gun almost fell out of his hand.
“You fucking idiot!”
He rushed forwards, cursing and firing at the monsters that once again had turned the tide of fate, at a time when the world for once had been on the right track. Around him, the soldiers and outlaws continued to move, completely shaken from the first surprise by the shocking death of their unexpected savior.
Such was the way of things until the horde buckled, and an explosion of dark lightning sent the metal heads flying.
Jinx grinned, while several of the elves around him recoiled in horror.
What had been a shining warrior when it entered the living nightmare, had now become a horned demon. It was vaguely elflike with the long ears, but its skin was purple and instead of nails it had claws rivaling even the metal heads’. As it turned around, the troops were met by a disdainful glare from a pair of pitch black eyes, framed by the sprays of sickly green metal head blood.
Something in the picture seemed heavily askew, however.
An orange rodent wearing goggles and a pair of blue shorts stood on the demon’s shoulder, leisurely leaning against its blonde head. With a smirk huge enough to split its head, it raised a tiny finger towards the closest heap of dazed metal heads and spoke.
“Don’t make him angry. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.”
It looked down at the snarling creature whose shoulder it used as a means of travel, and quickly turned back to the monsters with an – if possible – even bigger smirk.
“Oops. Too late!”
A very important thing about metal heads would be their inability to understand fear, however. One by one they regained orientation and threw themselves at the demon again, never minding the fact that they were thrown back in slices or twitching under the force of the dark lightning. The demon whirled around like a murderous tornado, the rodent on his shoulder hanging on for dear life.
“Breaktime’s over!” Jinx snarled at the men around him, “you either fight them or me an’ Torn!”
That threat worked wonders. Guns immediately fired and well trained hands rammed daggers into the few vulnerable spots offered on the distracted metal heads. Despite their lowering numbers, the beasts ignored everything except the demon. It was as if they had been born with the instinct of killing this one creature.
Any tactician would have cried tears of blood if they had seen this idiocy. Without a leader the metal heads were blind to everything but their inbred hatred for the precursors’ champion.
The battle was brutal, but it ended far quicker than it would have done without the reinforcements. Merely a few minutes later, Jinx lit a cigarette and breathed in the sweet toxin with great satisfaction. Puffing out clouds of smoke on it he pulled out a communicator and smacked it a few times before it crackled to life. A tattooed face framed with brown hair appeared on the small screen.
“Yo,” Jinx said, grinning, “we’re just cleaning up over here.”
“Good work,” Torn replied, his voice lined with static noise due to the bad line, “how many injured?”
Jinx looked around at the piles of metal heads and soldiers lining the cracked streets. The slums had never been pretty, but they were home. And messier than ever, now. Drat.
“Could’ve been worse,” the far from sophisticated elf eventually reported.
On the other end of town, Torn rolled his eyes in frustration.
“Numbers, Jinx,” he demanded.
“Oh, I’d say about half of what ye bet on. We got here quickly.”
Torn nodded, inwardly breathing a deep sigh of relief. Of course, he would not let his image be ruined by showing something like that on the outside though.
“How is Jak?” he asked.
“Clutching his blonde little head last I checked,” Jinx replied, “I’d say just peachy.”
“Hey!” a whiny voice piped up in the background.
“The rat’s still alive too,” Jinx added and pulled a fake grimace of regret, “sorry, chief.”
“Try harder next time,” Torn said, smirking as Daxter’s shrill protest reached the speakers of Jinx’ communicator.
“Sure thing, boss.”
“In any case, set up things over there and then come back here with Jak.”
Jinx nodded understanding, and turned off the link to the city defense’s somewhat rickety headquarters. He looked up and took a step back from nearly being kissed by an insulted ottsel. Twisted as he was, there were things even Jinx did not consider worth trying.
“Whatever,” he cut off Daxter’s complains, and pinched the furball’s mouth shut for good measure, “Torn says to come back home before it gets dark.”
“Fine.”
That was Jak’s sole comment. Daxter, on the other hand, produced a cacophony of “Mfghm!” sounds while angrily trying to bend his lips free from Jinx’ tobacco scented, black nailed and bloody fingertips.
Jinx looked the fighter over for a moment then gave him an amused and wicked smirk.
“And Pretty Boy, you look really gutsy right now. You make a guy like me proud.”
Jak would have replied, but Daxter managed to break free at that very moment. What happened next should be no surprise.
“Gah! Toothpaste! Mouthwash! And for you, soap! Have you ever heard of it? Lovely invention, almost as nice as pants- ow!”
The rant which might have gone on and on <I>and on</I> ended with Jak’s backhand connecting with Daxter’s head.
“<I>Whaat</I>?” the ferret complained.
Jak merely rolled his eyes and turned to walk towards the waiting vehicles. The parking left something to be desired, but he and Jinx had been rushing to get to the battle scene.
As the warrior sat down in the two-seater hover, a careful cheer rose from a couple of throats. It was soon enforced by more and more fighters and soldiers, some who lacked the strength to cheer at least waving a hand towards the hero.
Ah yes, a hero once more, from being thrown out and left to die.
Not everyone cheered though, remaining skeptical. Daxter grinned like a maniac and performed a victory dance on his seat, but Jak merely smiled a bit at the victorious spoils. He started the engine and steered the hover upwards, away from the sullied streets.
But he really preferred being down there, as long as there was something to fight.
‘And it’s “Mar”.’
And this is not the end. Goddamn stories won’t leave me alone, stupid plotbunnies… I swear it’s Magus who sends them to make sure I leave him alone.
