"Ah, Cherries!" Sig said in his deep booming voice. "I thought you would never come." He stepped out of the bushes, Metalhead armor clanking and shining in the hot sun that beat down on the pumping station. Jak stopped a few feet from the taller. Daxter rolled his eyes, jumping off into the sand. The Golden grains made a crunching noise under his paws.
"Listen Big guy," he said, pointing an orange furry finger up at Sig, "you have no idea what we've been through to get here. There are Krimzon guards all over the place!" Jak took a step forward, pushing Daxter out of the way with his foot. The smaller glared up at him, sticking out his tongue.
"Torn sent us to Krew, who told us to find you out here. What are we hunting? More Metalheads?" he asked, crossing his arms. Sig's eye darkened and he looked around. Dax raised an eyebrow in amusement.
"What, you scared, Sig?" Sig grunted, looking back at them.
"No, but you should be. Praxis's got a bunch of those Krimzon crawlers lurking in the pipes under the pumping station, and they're causing a whole lotta problems."
"Problems?" Jak asked, frowning and raising his eyebrows.
"All supply shipments to the Underground pass through the pumping station before moving onto the city. However, with those guards patrolling, all of Torn's supplies are getting intercepted and confiscated faster than we can order back-ups."
"So? Order from somewhere else," Daxter said pointedly, rolling his eyes. Sig turned and walked out from the small grove of palms, onto the loud pumping station. It whirred away, and Sig raised his voice.
"No can do, Shorty. Torn doesn't roll that way, 's far 's I know. He's a stubborn one."
"But if this is the Underground's business, why is Krew involved? And why you? Torn could've told us himself," Jak said, following quickly. Daxter climbed back up onto Jak's shoulder.
"Who knows?" Sig replied, shrugging. "All I know is he takes orders from the Shadow, and we all know how he can be."
"Don't even get me started, you have no idea." Dax said, adjusting himself more comfortably on Jak's shoulder.
"So what are we supposed to do?" Jak asked. Sig unlatched the Peacemaker from his back, resting it one his shoulder.
"What we always do, go fry some Krimzon asses," Sig said with a laugh. Dax laughed too, only his was slightly hysterical.
"Easy for you to say, Tough Guy! You don't have those nasty boogers chasin' you night and day." Jak scoffed, pulling out and loading his gun.
"That's fine. Anything that's bad for Praxis is good for me."
"You're both crazy," Dax said, rolling his eyes. Sig chuckled, leading the two past the pistons and around to the side of the station. There, by the waterside, was a gap in the wall, easily large enough to fit a man though comfortably. The two men stood by the gateway, looking in. It was dark, and stray drops of water splattered onto the stone steps that lead into the depths of the pumping station. Daxter jumped to the ground, peering out from behind Jak's leg.
"Oh no. No, no, no! I am not going in there. No way, no how, and I going to walk into that Hellhole- with you two." Daxter said, voice high pitched and he shook his head violently. Sig laughed, thumping the Ottsel on the head before stepping into the hole in the wall.
"Suit yourself," he said, then waved Jak in. "Come on, Kid, we got a lot of work to do." The yellow-haired male followed. Daxter's ears perked up, and he scrambled on all fours to the mouth of the pumping station.
"Wait, Jak, you're not gonna leave me here with those Metalheads, are ya?" But Jak had already been swallowed in darkness, his footsteps downed out by the tapping of water droplets. Dax sighed, walking into the station, ears drooped. "Alright, fine, I'll go. But one mess up and I swear I'll-" Just then, a pipe groaned loudly overhead, and he yelped, skittering into the blackness. He practically fell down the stairs, screaming all the way, landing with a crash at Jak's heels. The taller turned, glaring at the shorter. But the seemingly unfriendly gesture turned to a small smile of amusement. Daxter picked himself up, brushing gravel and dirt off of his orange fur.
"Nice of you to join us," Sig's voice said as the broad-shouldered man stepped out from the darkness. Dax jumped, then groaned. He clambered back on Jak's shoulder.
"Alright Wise-Guy,"' he smirked, "what'dya want from us?" Sig turned, armor making another loud chorus of clanks. The eyes of his Metalhead skull shoulder armor lit up, sending an audible shiver down Daxter's spine.
"Just keep your eyes open and your gun loaded," Sig said, stepping up to the first pipe. It was wide and tall, enough so that both Sig and Jak could walk side by side, and stand upright. It was eerie too, water drops splashing into puddles on the curved floor. Sig rolled his shoulders and the eyes of the Metalhead skull shined brighter, sending strange green shadows onto the wall. A drop of water hit Daxter's ear, and he flicked it off, rotating his head around.
"This place is kinda creepy, don'cha think Jak?" he asked, curling into a smaller ball upon the taller's shoulder.
"Shh, Dax," the yellow-haired male whispered as Sig dimmed the lights. The tunnel was getting more narrow, and soon, they found another pipe, branching left from the main. A flickering yellow light was swinging from a cord on the wall, the edge of the light being swallowed in the darkness. Sig pointed the Peacemaker down the tunnel carefully, eying it before moving on. There were several other tunnels like that, each enveloped in its own level of creepiness, or so Dax decided to point out under his breath. Jak smiled, amused until Sig stopped them.
"Listen."
"What?" Jak asked.
"I don't hear anything," Daxter said.
"Shh!" Jak said suddenly. He and Sig exchanged glances and, with a nod, they advanced down the pipe. Quickly and carefully, they darted across the way to another pipe, looking down the dimly lit tunnel. There were several boxes, stacked here there and everywhere, and two Krimzon guards, one leaning on his gun, the other, the wall. Sig took several steps back into the pipe, motioning for Jak to follow.
"What's the plan?" Jak asked.
"I'll kill the first one, you stun the second one. We need answers, and he's gonna be the one to give 'em to us, whether he likes it or not." And, without waiting for conformation, Sig lept out, pointing the Peacemaker at the first guard. A shower of red lasers flung themselves at the first guard, killing him instantly. Jak extended his own arm, pulling the trigger on the second. The scatter gun knocked the second guard over as he was scrambling to pick up his gun. He was thrown against the wall, and at that moment, Sig tackled him. He wrestled the Krimzon guard to the ground, putting him in a head lock. He nodded to Jak, who knelt next to the captured guard. Daxter, meanwhile climbed onto the stack of boxes, watching.
"How many others are here?" Jak asked with a growl in his voice.
"You're that eco freak, aren't you?" the guard asked, a smile most likely staining his tattooed face that was under the red helmet. Jak stuck the barrel of the gun under the guard's neck, forcing it up at an extremely uncomfortable angle.
"I asked you a question. How many others?" The guard stayed quiet, shaking his head. With one glance from the other, Sig tightened his grip. The guard bent over more, before managing to cough something out.
"Seven." Jak stood, taking a few steps backwards. Daxter jumped off a stack of boxes, landing in front of the guards face. He sneered.
"Not so tough are you, ya little-" but the rest of his insult was cut off when Sig twisted his wrists, snapping the guard's neck cleanly. Dax's eyes grew big, and his ears dropped. "You had to do that when I was right there?" he asked weakly, staring at the pure white bone sticking out of the guard's neck before following the other two down the pipe.
"Gotta get things done, Daxter," was all Jak said, before loading another round into his gun. The Ottsel shook his head, but followed.
"Besides, we don't got all day," Sig said, waving them down another tunnel. With that, they headed on to the rest of the guards. However, they did have all day, for the sun was sinking on the horizon when they climbed back out of the hole in the wall. The green star was bright overhead, mingling with the smog-dappled sky. Sweat drenched, bruised, and completely exhausted, Sig and Jak stopped back at the little cluster of palms. Sig stuck the Peacemaker into the sand, leaning on it. He sighed.
"Well done boys, the supply system is back online. The Shadow will be very pleased to hear about this."
"Then we shalln't wait another minute," Dax said sarcastically, turning on his heel and starting off across the sand.
"Thanks," Jak said to Sig as he followed.
"No problem Cherries. Come back anytime." Jak turned and jogged after Dax, who was already waiting at the gate. After the first section opened, Daxter spoke up.
"Oh, won't the look on Torn's face be priceless." Jak shared in a laugh and was about to reply, when the gate to the city opened, and all Hell was revealed. Smoke clogged the skies, and tall pillars of flame shot up into the air. The boardwalk was on fire, buildings crumbling into ashes, crushing the bridges and power lines, that sent blue sparks dancing across the water, setting even more things aflame. A rotten stench stained the air, and it was filled with noise. People screaming, gunshots, and somewhere folded into all of that, was the faint pop of small explosions. The two stayed motionless for a second, before Jak's arm shot out. Grabbing Daxter by the scruff of his neck, and plopping him on his shoulder, he tore down what was left of the boardwalk.
There were very few zoomers in the air, but as soon as he found one, he jumped to it. It was a guard motor-zoomer, Jak found as he grabbed onto the edge of the seat. Swinging himself up into the seat, he kicked the guard in the head, sending him down into the flames. His foot on the hover petal, Jak pushed back on his heel, lowering the zoomer into hover mode. Now close to the ground, Jak pulled his red scarf over his mouth and nose, lowering his goggles over his eyes, Daxter grabbing onto the folds in his shirt. Jak squeezed the gas handle, and they shot off into the chaos.
At first, it was hard to navigate. They had to shoot their way through piles of rubble and debris more than once. Jak bowed low over the handlebars, leaning into every turn. They were shot at by other guard ships, caught in the middle of fire, yet they managed to make it out of the smog and into the outer limits of Haven City. The chaos was more subdued, but there was a noticeable lack of patrols in the slums, making it easier to go through the city undetected. Jak still kept the speed high though, he was fuming. As always, he firstly blamed the obvious devastation on Praxis, which he knew for a fact was true. But some of the blame also went to Torn and the Underground, who were responsible for keeping them informed and alive, preferably.
After several minutes of silent driving, they peeled into the alleyway that housed the HQ of the Underground. Jak lept off of the zoomer as it crashed into the door of one of the crumbling buildings. He yanked down his scarf, and pushed his goggles back. Daxter jumped off his shoulder, brushing soot and grit out of his now dull orange fur.
"Man! That was crazy!" But as he looked to Jak for approval, he found the taller was already halfway down the alleyway. "Woah, calm down Buddy," he called. Jak's body language was enough to show that he was frustrated. His fists were clenched at his sides, and every time Daxter tried to get his attention, he was brushed off and ignored. The gray door to the Headquarters slid open, and Jak stormed down the stairs. The room at the bottom was as it had always been, warmly lit and cluttered as Hell. Maps of all kinds, posters of the Baron and other ghastly political officials, and plans marked up in red were plastered all over the walls, and overflowing onto the circular table in the middle. Torn was pouring over one large map in particular on the table, so completely focused, he didn't notice the other's arrival until Jak was standing across from him.
"What the hell is going on out there?" Jak demanded, slamming his hands on the table. Torn's head jerked up to face him, sneer on his face.
"What does it look like? Praxis's blow up the entire Goddamn boardwalk!"
"Oh, well thank you, Captain Obvious!" Daxter said, jumping up onto the table. "Tell us something we don't know." Torn glared, green eyes like shards from a broken glass bottle.
"How about this? Praxis hired a bomber last week, and already he's blown up a fraction of the city. If we don't stop him, he'll have the rest of the Underground smoked out. We tried to evacuate the entire North-East corner of Haven, and even then most didn't make it out. All of them- dead. Just because the Baron wants to scare the locals, and it's workin' alright. Even the Shadow is shaken with everything we've lost." He shook his head, before looking back up at the two standing before him. "Speaking of loss- did you get the pipes cleared?"
"Yeah," Jak said, eyes turning hard, "we did. And we went to Krew to find out. That's none of his business."
"It's more his business," Torn spat, "than you might think." Jak leaned across the table.
"What's going on here?" Torn rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, but looked behind him cautiously.
"Alright, I'll spill." He put his hands on the table, leaning in. "The Shadow has got some new rules, serious restrictions. Ever since the supply line was intercepted, he's been real careful about what passes from mouth to mouth in the Underground, especially from mine. So I sent you to Krew, since he runs all of the city's sewer trans-pipelines for the cause." Daxter jumped up on the table, scattering maps everywhere. Torn glared.
"So wait a minute. You're telling me, that the Shadow isn't trusting even you?"
"In times like these," Torn said, "I'm surprised he trusts anyone." Jak was still pissed to no end, fuming inside at how Torn was flowing with the Shadow like people weren't dying outside the safe-house.
"But the Underground is about revolting against tyrannical government, not adopting a new superpower like the Shadow," Jak said. Torn's green eyes took on a sharp glare that Jak had seen too often, one of hostility. He leaned across the table again, pointing a finger at Jak's chest.
"Listen mister, don't think I don't know what I'm doing. I've been in this for years, I've been inside that palace, and let me tell you, the Baron is far worse than anything the Shadow could be. He's capable of even worse, more dangerous, things morally and physically than the Shadow could ever dream up. But as far as I'm concerned, if you're not for the Shadow, you're against him. Neither I, nor anyone else in this rebellion, will tolerate anyone, or anything," he turned his glare towards Daxter, who stuck his tongue out, "who threatens our existence. You're getting into far more trouble that is safe for the Underground to be exposed to. I'm surprised I still keep you two around." They all exchanged hard stares, before Torn jabbed Jak roughly in the chest. "Now, if you two pussies are done being stupid, I've got work for you to do." He turned around, digging in some drawers. Daxter blinked a few times.
"Work? Listen Smarty-Pants," Daxter said shrilly, pointing his finger, "why would we work for you after that little speech?" Torn pulled out what he was looking for, turned, and slammed the red leather bound book on the table, making Dax jump.
"Because I'm the only thing that keeps the Baron off your back. So are you in or not?" Jak crossed his arms, leaning on one leg in an almost casual fashion.
"Okay, I'll bite. What's this work?" he said. Torn smiled one of his rare smiles.
"That's what I like to hear." Torn started rummaging through the many maps, charts, and papers, until he found a tan manila folder. He tossed it by Jak. "Zevin Renterina, our oh so helpful bomber friend. I used to work with him in the guard, until he was promoted, and I left to join the cause. Ashlien has been slipping us record books of names of the new recruits. About three years after I left the guard, his name disappeared off the record books. It's just started to resurface. Apparently he's been out to the Wastelands, had a bout or two with Krew, and next thing we know, he's on the Baron's good side. Taking him out means securing us another foothold in our plans." Jak, meanwhile, was flipping through the the folder. It was full of papers, official looking documents and several shots of a dark haired man. His face was decorated with the same tattoos that Torn had on his face, an obvious sign of a current or an ex-Krimzon guard.
"That's him?" Daxter said, raising his eyebrows in disgust. He was now looking over Jak's shoulder, reading along with Jak. The taller, however, wasn't interested in papers. He closed the folder.
"That's all we have to go off of?"
"All that I have. Krew might have more information, if the rumors are true. Head on over to the port, get all the information out of him that you can. You're gonna need it. Then make your way out to Ashlien in the Western Bazaar. She knows where Zevin'll be. You know what to do after that," Torn said, a ruthless grin on his face. Daxter climbed on Jak's shoulder.
"We're on it!" Dax said, and Jak turned out the door, giving one last glance over his shoulder.
"We're on it?" Jak asked, standing outside in the cold night air.
"Of course we are. I just forgot to add the 'in the morning' part," Daxter said with a laugh. Jak shook his head, but walked over to their crashed zoomer, still smoking a little. Climbing on, Jak drove them down the street, almost empty with night's dark and cold cloak, and drove down the thin alleyway to another crumbling building that looked similar to the one next to it, and practically every other building in the slums. Jak brought the zoomer to a stop, climbing off and pushing open the door to a faded gray building. It creaked open on rusty hinges, opening to a hallway, and a set of stairs. Daxter jumped off, climbing up the stair as fast as his legs could carry him.
"I'll beat you up," Jak said with a laugh, taking the steps two at a time.
"Not fair!" Daxter said, bounding up after him. They raced up three flights of stairs to the fourth floor, to door number 407. Out of breath, and with a bit of a smile stuck to his lips, Jak pulled a key out from one of his many pockets, unlocking the door. Dax ran in between his legs, jumping up and hitting the light-switch by the door. A soft yellow glow spilled over the space, containing nothing but a couch, a table, and an armchair, none of which matched anything else in the room. The walls were bare and the paint peeling. The kitchen they never used was tiny, and the back bedrooms, of which there were two, weren't much better. Jak dropped his gun by the closed door, sighing.
"Home sweet home, Dax," he said, sounding slightly disappointed, though he wasn't. In truth, they were both glad to have found that dumpy place for their down time. Daxter skittered across the carpet and into the kitchen. He opened the cupboard, scanning the few items in there for something to eat.
"Do you want anything?" he asked. Jak shook his head.
"No, I'm just tired. Thanks though."
"Alright. Goodnight Jak."
"'Night Daxter," Jak said before turning down the short, darkened hallway. He didn't bother turning on the lights when he reached the second door on the left, simply pushing open. The window facing the desolate street was covered in a dark blue curtain, tattered and worn with the years of being exposed to the weather. A rickety old bed was pushed up against the wall, barely big enough for two. A dresser was leaning against the opposite wall, one drawer only half closed. The lamp on it didn't work, but by now, Jak had gotten used to fumbling around in the dark, figuratively and literally. Which was what he was doing then, fumbling around in the near-darkness, pulling of his boots, his clothes. Stripped down to just his soft cotton pants, he collapsed back onto the bed, feeling the wear of the day eating at his skin.
It seemed like that everyday, lying there under the thin sheets, counting new bruises and thinking of everything he had to do the next day. There was never a down minute, as much as he'd liked to think there was. And every possible resting period was full of more thoughts about Praxis and everything that happened to him down at the prisons. Those long painful two years of having dark eco pumped into him still revisited him on nights like that, nights after a seemingly relaxed day at war. He lay there, feeling his blood pulse through his veins. It felt thicker than it had years ago, more a sludge like poison that infected him, a disease to which there was no cure.
He spent lots of time brooding like this, as he tried to fall asleep. Time that he could be spent lost in dreams, he chose to suffer in the world awake. Why? He felt he had to. It was easy pain, a kind that would come and go at a moments notice. And he wanted to feel it all, to have the fire in him to finally, once and for all, kill Praxis and find the Metalhead nest. He had vowed, the minute he'd realized the rift was actually a time machine, that he would find his way back home again. If that meant killing the largest superpower in the known world, then so be it.
Turning over, Jak cringed at a bruised rib that he lay on. He faced the window, staring with blue eyes out into the distance. He rolled back over onto his back, yawning. He had to get to sleep, enough torture for the day. If his life was Hell, his dreams were far better than heaven. When he dreamed, well, that was his real escape. In his sleep, he could see old memories of sunny beaches, of a town practically made of rain. Of orbs just laying around all over the place, Precursor artifacts laying around every other corner. Of a certain teal-haired girl whom he'd watched the citadel close up with. Gol and Maia still visited his nights every so often, however they weren't ever scary anymore. But it always seemed to be Samos, or the Shadow, as he was now called, or any other of the sages that were most present.
More often than not, he dreampt of the day Daxter became an Ottsel. He still laughed over it. How they stole the fisherman's boat, went to Misty Island like they were specifically told not to, how Daxter had fallen into that vat of dark eco... Laughs stopped at that point in the dream, for Jak knew what that stuff did. Dax was lucky to be alive and not a total monster. With that last thought, how lucky the other really was, he fell asleep to dreams of the past.