Disclaimer: I don't own the Jak & Daxter video game series, as the
rightfully belong to their rightful owners, Naughty Dog... right?
Yes, despite the fact I have not yet finished my first fic (Cumulus Academy) I've started yet another. ^ ^;; Eh, this thing has been bugging me to get written, and once I wrote it way back in December, it kept nagging me to post it. I think I may be able to write this out while writing Cumulus academy; however, since the chapters are shorter than what I usually write and it's a fresh breath of air from my magic, undead-killing, school. Besides, I'm rather fond of the game Jak 2; I've beaten it already, and it's originally my sister's game. But, once again I'm rambling, so just skip ahead and read.
* * *
The moon shone brightly above the crowded streets of Haven city - well, as brightly as it could through all the air and light pollution - as the night dragged on among the ragged streets and the even more ragged citizens. But there was one section where the roads were being carefully blocked off, and the young and daring were preparing to shake off the silence of the humdrum metropolis life that surrounded them.
They thought they were rebels. Every single one of those young men and women thought they were hot stuff, the newest tough guy in town, and that they were unbeatable.
It was pathetic.
So he waited and watched, from his high-up perch upon the balcony of a rickety old building. He sniggered as each teen revved up the engine of his or her customized zoomer, each trying to outdo the other, as if such a matter was important. But deep down, even though he pretended to hate the idea, he thought it would be bliss if all that really mattered in the world was how fast you were. Because if you were fast, you won the money; if you were fast, you won respect; and if you were fast, you would never be caught. Welcome to the high-stakes world of street racing. A world he had been ordered to infiltrate and disperse. Man, he hated Torn and his stupid missions.
Sighing, Jak leaned back and tapped the shoulder of the sleeping ottsel, who was precariously balanced just above the rear thrusters of the small, one-person zoomer. "Hey, Dax. Dax, wake up." Jak's furry sidekick turned over on his other side, and made a shooing motion with his gloved paw. "don't wanna..."
"C'mon Dax. It's getting late." The dark-Eco-experiment's voice was quiet pleading, and one of Daxter's ears flicked back in recognition. "...I don't wanna go to work, Tess..." At this, Jak incoherently grumbled something and went for a more direct approach to wake up his long-time friend. "Wow... look at all those skimpily-dressed young women..."
"Wha? Where?!" Daxter immediately sprung up and scurried up on top of Jak's head, scanning the streets below for said women. Upon hearing his perch's chuckle, he glared down into the pair of clear blue eyes and slowly replied, "Sometimes, I really hate you. You know that, right?"
Jak shrugged, almost causing Daxter to lose his balance upon his head. "You took this job, so you better stay awake."
"I thought there would be more excitement... something to pass the time with." The ottsel jumped from Jak's head to the streamlined windshield of the parked zoomer, sulking as he did so. "I hate to admit it, but it's been boring ever since we brought down good ol' Kor and Baron Praxis."
"So the reluctant soldier is looking for some action, hm?" the driver smirked, something he rarely did, and turned his attention back to the loud crowd of young adults. There were quite a few shady characters lurking around the mob of rowdy racers and mechanics, but none of them was his target. Not one was the racer Jak was searching for.
"I got to hand it to ya', Jak... there is no way we're gonna catch this guy." Daxter was once again perched upon his friend's shoulder, watching a group of zoomers line up with mild intrest. The four drivers jeered at each other, and money was passed around as bets were called. Their vehicles were brightly painted, gaudily standing out among the dull street, and the headlights of the other parked zoomers lit up the track, as loud rock music pulsated throughout the air- its source was a customized 4-seater. But everything seemed to come to a screeching halt as a fifth driver pulled up among the line of racers. His zoomer, a small one-seater, was a dark burgundy color; the trim was a metallic copper. The driver himself was wearing a long leather jacket, but not much else besides his dark hair could be seen from Jak's viewpoint. Sensing a pivotal change of his night, Jak started the engine and watched the starting line intently, his foot ready to slam on the gas at any moment.
There were a few more lewd jokes tossed in the new driver's way, but everything soon settled down and a skimpily dressed, young woman strutted onto the bridge that crossed above the road. Confidently smiling, she raised one hand high above her head, the numerous headlights reflecting off of the cherry-red polish, and dramatically dropped it down. In a single roar, all five racers charged ahead, forming a tightly knit pack.
"Hold on Dax," Jak muttered, taking a second to make sure the ottsel was secure before pushing his foot down on the gas pedal. His own zoomer zipped ahead, and he was propelled off of the balcony and into the dirty streets below. Just in front of him were the racers, all of them fighting their way out of the tightly packed group, each just a blur of color high above the hard ground. To his surprise, when the pack did disperse, one of the drivers dropped down, skimming just above the street at an insane speed.
The other four stayed high, fighting for the lead, while the lone zoomer ate up the track, its driver recklessly steering it around potholes and lone pedestrians. Jak stayed behind, just enough so as not to be suspected, and kept a close eye on the race participants.
Whoever had mapped out the track had to have been insane. It weaved throughout the slums; hair-pin turns, buildings that suddenly loomed up out of the smoke exhaust of the other's engines, and a regular maze of pillars formed a course that only the most experienced - or lucky- driver could possibly hope to steer through. But, then again, he was one of those drivers; and he was hoping just as much as the others that he wouldn't become another raspberry-colored splotch on the sidewalk, with the flaming remains of the zoomer Kiera had been so gracious to lend him in a heap of twisted metal beside said splotch.
There were only three left now. (The other two riders had somehow managed to crash and explode their vehicles somewhere along the way) Two racers battled for the lead, hoping to ram each other to certain death, while the same driver that had dropped down earlier was narrowly skirting past the front doors of the buildings that lined the one-way street. Jak could feel Daxter's grip begin to cut off the circulation to his lower arm - the ottsel was freakishly strong when such an overdose of adrenaline was surging through his veins - as he followed suit after the trio. It was coming down to the last lap, the final spurt to the finish.
But even as he watched them near the finish line, he could already tell which one of them was his target; which driver was the one Torn had wanted to be brought in - preferably alive. Jak hadn't bothered to stress the KG commander for details; just acquired the necessary information needed to get the job done.
Suddenly, the ground-hugging driver pulled up sharply, surprising both of the drivers that were fighting for the lead so much that they changed their line of sight from the road - and crashed right into a wall that had been masked by the exhaust smoke of the fifth driver's zoomer. The racer turned to the right at the last second, pushing off the wall with one leg as he struggled to regain his vehicle's balance, and Jak followed suit.
The track was coming to an end; he could see the familiar crowd of eager "rebels" by the finish line, and drove his zoomer off to the side, down the backroads of the slums, as the only driver left collected their prize money. He would wait a bit longer, then cut the victorious racer off and take them out of commission. That is, if the Krimzon guard didn't interfere again.
"Er... would you care to tell me what that was about?" Daxter inquired, fixing his mussed fur. The ottsel had released his deathgrip on Jak's sore arm, and was once again cautiously balancing on the zoomer's windshield. "Just making sure it was who we were looking for."
"Oh, like you couldn't tell that from way up over there!" The ottsel pointed a claw at their old post, an old, rundown apartment building, and continued smoothing down his bright orange fur. The zoomer and its two passengers merely floated down the empty street in silence before Jak replied, "I just wanted to make sure he was as good a driver as Torn claimed. It wouldn't do us any good if we grabbed someone who looked like him but sucks at driving. Get what I'm saying?"
"Still not a good enough reason to almost get ourselves killed." Dax snuck back to his regular spot on Jak's shoulder, moody and silent, but soon cocked his head, his eyes widening. "Hey, uh, buddy? I think we better move along before the Guard starts patrolling around here."
Now he could hear them, the klaxon sirens. The flashing red lights reflected off of the shards of glass in a broken window, signaling the hum of the vehicle's engine as it sped off into a smaller street. As they turned a corner onto the main street, the driver and ottsel could hear the revving engines of the crowd's zoomers, each one getting out of the way of the other, as they sped off into the sprawling city in hopes of losing their KG tailgates.
This was what he was waiting for; and as Jak saw each vehicle leave, he quickly took notice of each zoomer's paint job. Lime green four-seater with gold trim, nope; a one-passenger that was bright blue with red stripes, no; another small, one-passenger painted a fluorescent orange, again, nope. When it had seemed the entire painstakingly painted entourage had passed, the entirety of it a blur of colors, he saw the dark burgundy zoomer and driver pass by, and take a sharp turn to the left. Sighing, Jak gunned the motor once again and his zoomer surged forwards.
"Whoa! Jak, Jak! Don't you even think about it!" the ottsel's words were too late; however, as Jak dove straight through the mass of vehicles, and continued straight across to follow his target. Once the sound of the engines had died down a little, Daxter's voice could be clearly heard as he griped, "For all that's good and holy, Jak; Never - and I mean this - never do that EVER AGAIN!" He was about to say more, but the zoomer ahead of them was coming ever closer, and as Jak reached over to grab the rider's arm, the other driver dropped down. Just dropped, like a stone, in a descent that was sure to make him another one of those splotches on the city streets, the same color as his zoomer, and then slammed his foot on the gas and sped ahead.
"Damn!" Jak whispered the swear to himself, and dropped down also, following the driver. It was a strange and dangerous game of tag they played, and the challenging race before had been nothing when it came to the sheer insanity of this course. They were constantly changing driving zones, looping around buildings, skimming just over the heads of civilians, and their target was always just ahead of them, planning out every move in advance. If Daxter hadn't been in the middle of such a chase, he would have called both drivers suicidal and out of their minds; but, considering he had no choice but cling onto his pal's shoulder for dear life, he figured he might as well not say anything to get Jak upset. After all, it wouldn't do him much good if they were to suddenly crash because the driver got distracted now, would it?
They were over the ocean now, near the Naughty Ottsel. But, and perhaps this was his imagination, they seemed to be drawing up closer to the leading driver, and when Jak reached out once again to grab his arm, Daxter lunged forwards as well and clung onto the weather-worn leather jacket their target wore. Said target growled and tried to push them off, tried to separate them before another pillar loomed up out of the ocean mist, hoping the idiot driver and his fuzzy pet clinging onto him would realize that it was certain death if they kept going at this speed.
Silently, he counted out the distance between the iron pillar and themselves, and their own speed. As if by some silent cue, the driver pressed the brake and locked it, one feature on his prized vehicle he probably would never have lived without, turned the zoomer in a barrel roll, the motion jerking not only himself, but also his adversary, off of their zoomers and into the ocean below.
The driver breathed a sigh of relief as his zoomer slowly came to a halt right in front of the gargantuan pillar (the other exploding a brilliant flash of crimson), and separated himself from the young man and ottsel, ready to make his escape.
Then, he remembered he couldn't swim.
...Shit.
Jak hit the water hard, the force driving out the air from his lungs in one sudden exhale, and Daxter went flying off in some other direction. He flailed his arms for a second, then got in a regular pattern and propelled himself to the surface, where he gulped in large amounts of the precious oxygen that his lungs burned for. "Dax? Dax! Where are you?!"
"Over here, and, let me tell you, I'm definitely not liking it!" The ottsel came into view, doggy paddling over to Jak as fast as his short little legs would allow, and leapt out of the water onto his friend's head. After taking a moment to stop shivering, Daxter asked, "Hey, have you seen that guy?" Jak almost stopped treading water in sudden realization of the incident, and growled, "Dammit! Must've gotten away!" then sighed, trying to disperse the anger welling up inside before proceeding to swim back to shore.
He was almost halfway there when something floated by him; at first he tried to push the floating object out of his way, but the material had an odd texture, sort of like... leather... "Hey, what's this?" Daxter hopped off Jak's head and onto the floating thing. After scuttling over to one end, where the person's dark hair shifted in the ocean current, he jumped back in alarm. "Hey, uh, Jak?"
"Hm?" He couldn't really say much else in reply, as he was busy trying to get a good grip on the body, which was, consequently, floating facedown in the water.
"Torn said he wanted this guy alive, right?"
"Uh-huh."
Daxter looked down at the body, shuddered, and ran back up onto Jak's shoulder. "Hate to bust yer bubble, but I think he's dead." Jak took a moment to look at the dead (literally) weight in his arms.
".this sucks."
"Couldn't agree with you more. We might as well pull the corpse to shore, and dump it somewhere." The ottsel leaned on his friend's head, tapping his fingers on one of the lens of Jak's goggles, as the young man swam his way back to one of the metal ramps that jutted into the water, dragging himself and the body up that same ramp, and collapsed on the ground in exhaustion. All the while, Daxter was impatiently sitting on the tired man's shoulder. Another example of their infamous, if strange, mutualism: one does all the work, while the other cracks a few jokes along the way.
Jak, finally regaining his breath, turned the body face-up. His eyes widened and he took a step back. Daxter, whom had been loitering on the railing that separated the water from the sidewalk, jumped down and ran over. "What is it?" He looked down at the body and his eyes widened. "Whoa! Holy sheep shit, batman!"
It was a woman.
Her loose shirt and baggy pants, originally worn to disguise her figure from curious onlookers, was soaking wet and clinging to her skin. The long leather jacket had been unbuttoned, and her shoulder-length, purple hair had fallen out of its ponytail. In one ear was an odd sort of earring, which the ottsel recognized as a small spark plug, and a small pistol was strapped in its holster by her waist. But, and this was most amazing of all, she was still breathing. After all that, the damned woman was still alive.
Perhaps Torn wouldn't kill them when they reported back.
* * *
Don't worry, I plan on updating another chapter soon. I just want to clear this up before you guys start verbally attacking me:
This is not going to be a Jak/OC fic in any way, shape, or form. In my opinion, Jak already has enough trouble with the whole Jak/ Kiera/ Ashelin triangle going on there. Not to mention his numerous fangirls, who would kill me if I took their precious goat-boy away from them. (pfft. Torn is so much better) And trust me, don't even get any ideas about this being a Mary- Sue; I tend to find perfect people boring.
Well, that's about it for now, so review and keep an eye out for chapter two. (which should be up by next week - when I post chapter 28 of Cumulus academy) Ciao!
Yes, despite the fact I have not yet finished my first fic (Cumulus Academy) I've started yet another. ^ ^;; Eh, this thing has been bugging me to get written, and once I wrote it way back in December, it kept nagging me to post it. I think I may be able to write this out while writing Cumulus academy; however, since the chapters are shorter than what I usually write and it's a fresh breath of air from my magic, undead-killing, school. Besides, I'm rather fond of the game Jak 2; I've beaten it already, and it's originally my sister's game. But, once again I'm rambling, so just skip ahead and read.
* * *
The moon shone brightly above the crowded streets of Haven city - well, as brightly as it could through all the air and light pollution - as the night dragged on among the ragged streets and the even more ragged citizens. But there was one section where the roads were being carefully blocked off, and the young and daring were preparing to shake off the silence of the humdrum metropolis life that surrounded them.
They thought they were rebels. Every single one of those young men and women thought they were hot stuff, the newest tough guy in town, and that they were unbeatable.
It was pathetic.
So he waited and watched, from his high-up perch upon the balcony of a rickety old building. He sniggered as each teen revved up the engine of his or her customized zoomer, each trying to outdo the other, as if such a matter was important. But deep down, even though he pretended to hate the idea, he thought it would be bliss if all that really mattered in the world was how fast you were. Because if you were fast, you won the money; if you were fast, you won respect; and if you were fast, you would never be caught. Welcome to the high-stakes world of street racing. A world he had been ordered to infiltrate and disperse. Man, he hated Torn and his stupid missions.
Sighing, Jak leaned back and tapped the shoulder of the sleeping ottsel, who was precariously balanced just above the rear thrusters of the small, one-person zoomer. "Hey, Dax. Dax, wake up." Jak's furry sidekick turned over on his other side, and made a shooing motion with his gloved paw. "don't wanna..."
"C'mon Dax. It's getting late." The dark-Eco-experiment's voice was quiet pleading, and one of Daxter's ears flicked back in recognition. "...I don't wanna go to work, Tess..." At this, Jak incoherently grumbled something and went for a more direct approach to wake up his long-time friend. "Wow... look at all those skimpily-dressed young women..."
"Wha? Where?!" Daxter immediately sprung up and scurried up on top of Jak's head, scanning the streets below for said women. Upon hearing his perch's chuckle, he glared down into the pair of clear blue eyes and slowly replied, "Sometimes, I really hate you. You know that, right?"
Jak shrugged, almost causing Daxter to lose his balance upon his head. "You took this job, so you better stay awake."
"I thought there would be more excitement... something to pass the time with." The ottsel jumped from Jak's head to the streamlined windshield of the parked zoomer, sulking as he did so. "I hate to admit it, but it's been boring ever since we brought down good ol' Kor and Baron Praxis."
"So the reluctant soldier is looking for some action, hm?" the driver smirked, something he rarely did, and turned his attention back to the loud crowd of young adults. There were quite a few shady characters lurking around the mob of rowdy racers and mechanics, but none of them was his target. Not one was the racer Jak was searching for.
"I got to hand it to ya', Jak... there is no way we're gonna catch this guy." Daxter was once again perched upon his friend's shoulder, watching a group of zoomers line up with mild intrest. The four drivers jeered at each other, and money was passed around as bets were called. Their vehicles were brightly painted, gaudily standing out among the dull street, and the headlights of the other parked zoomers lit up the track, as loud rock music pulsated throughout the air- its source was a customized 4-seater. But everything seemed to come to a screeching halt as a fifth driver pulled up among the line of racers. His zoomer, a small one-seater, was a dark burgundy color; the trim was a metallic copper. The driver himself was wearing a long leather jacket, but not much else besides his dark hair could be seen from Jak's viewpoint. Sensing a pivotal change of his night, Jak started the engine and watched the starting line intently, his foot ready to slam on the gas at any moment.
There were a few more lewd jokes tossed in the new driver's way, but everything soon settled down and a skimpily dressed, young woman strutted onto the bridge that crossed above the road. Confidently smiling, she raised one hand high above her head, the numerous headlights reflecting off of the cherry-red polish, and dramatically dropped it down. In a single roar, all five racers charged ahead, forming a tightly knit pack.
"Hold on Dax," Jak muttered, taking a second to make sure the ottsel was secure before pushing his foot down on the gas pedal. His own zoomer zipped ahead, and he was propelled off of the balcony and into the dirty streets below. Just in front of him were the racers, all of them fighting their way out of the tightly packed group, each just a blur of color high above the hard ground. To his surprise, when the pack did disperse, one of the drivers dropped down, skimming just above the street at an insane speed.
The other four stayed high, fighting for the lead, while the lone zoomer ate up the track, its driver recklessly steering it around potholes and lone pedestrians. Jak stayed behind, just enough so as not to be suspected, and kept a close eye on the race participants.
Whoever had mapped out the track had to have been insane. It weaved throughout the slums; hair-pin turns, buildings that suddenly loomed up out of the smoke exhaust of the other's engines, and a regular maze of pillars formed a course that only the most experienced - or lucky- driver could possibly hope to steer through. But, then again, he was one of those drivers; and he was hoping just as much as the others that he wouldn't become another raspberry-colored splotch on the sidewalk, with the flaming remains of the zoomer Kiera had been so gracious to lend him in a heap of twisted metal beside said splotch.
There were only three left now. (The other two riders had somehow managed to crash and explode their vehicles somewhere along the way) Two racers battled for the lead, hoping to ram each other to certain death, while the same driver that had dropped down earlier was narrowly skirting past the front doors of the buildings that lined the one-way street. Jak could feel Daxter's grip begin to cut off the circulation to his lower arm - the ottsel was freakishly strong when such an overdose of adrenaline was surging through his veins - as he followed suit after the trio. It was coming down to the last lap, the final spurt to the finish.
But even as he watched them near the finish line, he could already tell which one of them was his target; which driver was the one Torn had wanted to be brought in - preferably alive. Jak hadn't bothered to stress the KG commander for details; just acquired the necessary information needed to get the job done.
Suddenly, the ground-hugging driver pulled up sharply, surprising both of the drivers that were fighting for the lead so much that they changed their line of sight from the road - and crashed right into a wall that had been masked by the exhaust smoke of the fifth driver's zoomer. The racer turned to the right at the last second, pushing off the wall with one leg as he struggled to regain his vehicle's balance, and Jak followed suit.
The track was coming to an end; he could see the familiar crowd of eager "rebels" by the finish line, and drove his zoomer off to the side, down the backroads of the slums, as the only driver left collected their prize money. He would wait a bit longer, then cut the victorious racer off and take them out of commission. That is, if the Krimzon guard didn't interfere again.
"Er... would you care to tell me what that was about?" Daxter inquired, fixing his mussed fur. The ottsel had released his deathgrip on Jak's sore arm, and was once again cautiously balancing on the zoomer's windshield. "Just making sure it was who we were looking for."
"Oh, like you couldn't tell that from way up over there!" The ottsel pointed a claw at their old post, an old, rundown apartment building, and continued smoothing down his bright orange fur. The zoomer and its two passengers merely floated down the empty street in silence before Jak replied, "I just wanted to make sure he was as good a driver as Torn claimed. It wouldn't do us any good if we grabbed someone who looked like him but sucks at driving. Get what I'm saying?"
"Still not a good enough reason to almost get ourselves killed." Dax snuck back to his regular spot on Jak's shoulder, moody and silent, but soon cocked his head, his eyes widening. "Hey, uh, buddy? I think we better move along before the Guard starts patrolling around here."
Now he could hear them, the klaxon sirens. The flashing red lights reflected off of the shards of glass in a broken window, signaling the hum of the vehicle's engine as it sped off into a smaller street. As they turned a corner onto the main street, the driver and ottsel could hear the revving engines of the crowd's zoomers, each one getting out of the way of the other, as they sped off into the sprawling city in hopes of losing their KG tailgates.
This was what he was waiting for; and as Jak saw each vehicle leave, he quickly took notice of each zoomer's paint job. Lime green four-seater with gold trim, nope; a one-passenger that was bright blue with red stripes, no; another small, one-passenger painted a fluorescent orange, again, nope. When it had seemed the entire painstakingly painted entourage had passed, the entirety of it a blur of colors, he saw the dark burgundy zoomer and driver pass by, and take a sharp turn to the left. Sighing, Jak gunned the motor once again and his zoomer surged forwards.
"Whoa! Jak, Jak! Don't you even think about it!" the ottsel's words were too late; however, as Jak dove straight through the mass of vehicles, and continued straight across to follow his target. Once the sound of the engines had died down a little, Daxter's voice could be clearly heard as he griped, "For all that's good and holy, Jak; Never - and I mean this - never do that EVER AGAIN!" He was about to say more, but the zoomer ahead of them was coming ever closer, and as Jak reached over to grab the rider's arm, the other driver dropped down. Just dropped, like a stone, in a descent that was sure to make him another one of those splotches on the city streets, the same color as his zoomer, and then slammed his foot on the gas and sped ahead.
"Damn!" Jak whispered the swear to himself, and dropped down also, following the driver. It was a strange and dangerous game of tag they played, and the challenging race before had been nothing when it came to the sheer insanity of this course. They were constantly changing driving zones, looping around buildings, skimming just over the heads of civilians, and their target was always just ahead of them, planning out every move in advance. If Daxter hadn't been in the middle of such a chase, he would have called both drivers suicidal and out of their minds; but, considering he had no choice but cling onto his pal's shoulder for dear life, he figured he might as well not say anything to get Jak upset. After all, it wouldn't do him much good if they were to suddenly crash because the driver got distracted now, would it?
They were over the ocean now, near the Naughty Ottsel. But, and perhaps this was his imagination, they seemed to be drawing up closer to the leading driver, and when Jak reached out once again to grab his arm, Daxter lunged forwards as well and clung onto the weather-worn leather jacket their target wore. Said target growled and tried to push them off, tried to separate them before another pillar loomed up out of the ocean mist, hoping the idiot driver and his fuzzy pet clinging onto him would realize that it was certain death if they kept going at this speed.
Silently, he counted out the distance between the iron pillar and themselves, and their own speed. As if by some silent cue, the driver pressed the brake and locked it, one feature on his prized vehicle he probably would never have lived without, turned the zoomer in a barrel roll, the motion jerking not only himself, but also his adversary, off of their zoomers and into the ocean below.
The driver breathed a sigh of relief as his zoomer slowly came to a halt right in front of the gargantuan pillar (the other exploding a brilliant flash of crimson), and separated himself from the young man and ottsel, ready to make his escape.
Then, he remembered he couldn't swim.
...Shit.
Jak hit the water hard, the force driving out the air from his lungs in one sudden exhale, and Daxter went flying off in some other direction. He flailed his arms for a second, then got in a regular pattern and propelled himself to the surface, where he gulped in large amounts of the precious oxygen that his lungs burned for. "Dax? Dax! Where are you?!"
"Over here, and, let me tell you, I'm definitely not liking it!" The ottsel came into view, doggy paddling over to Jak as fast as his short little legs would allow, and leapt out of the water onto his friend's head. After taking a moment to stop shivering, Daxter asked, "Hey, have you seen that guy?" Jak almost stopped treading water in sudden realization of the incident, and growled, "Dammit! Must've gotten away!" then sighed, trying to disperse the anger welling up inside before proceeding to swim back to shore.
He was almost halfway there when something floated by him; at first he tried to push the floating object out of his way, but the material had an odd texture, sort of like... leather... "Hey, what's this?" Daxter hopped off Jak's head and onto the floating thing. After scuttling over to one end, where the person's dark hair shifted in the ocean current, he jumped back in alarm. "Hey, uh, Jak?"
"Hm?" He couldn't really say much else in reply, as he was busy trying to get a good grip on the body, which was, consequently, floating facedown in the water.
"Torn said he wanted this guy alive, right?"
"Uh-huh."
Daxter looked down at the body, shuddered, and ran back up onto Jak's shoulder. "Hate to bust yer bubble, but I think he's dead." Jak took a moment to look at the dead (literally) weight in his arms.
".this sucks."
"Couldn't agree with you more. We might as well pull the corpse to shore, and dump it somewhere." The ottsel leaned on his friend's head, tapping his fingers on one of the lens of Jak's goggles, as the young man swam his way back to one of the metal ramps that jutted into the water, dragging himself and the body up that same ramp, and collapsed on the ground in exhaustion. All the while, Daxter was impatiently sitting on the tired man's shoulder. Another example of their infamous, if strange, mutualism: one does all the work, while the other cracks a few jokes along the way.
Jak, finally regaining his breath, turned the body face-up. His eyes widened and he took a step back. Daxter, whom had been loitering on the railing that separated the water from the sidewalk, jumped down and ran over. "What is it?" He looked down at the body and his eyes widened. "Whoa! Holy sheep shit, batman!"
It was a woman.
Her loose shirt and baggy pants, originally worn to disguise her figure from curious onlookers, was soaking wet and clinging to her skin. The long leather jacket had been unbuttoned, and her shoulder-length, purple hair had fallen out of its ponytail. In one ear was an odd sort of earring, which the ottsel recognized as a small spark plug, and a small pistol was strapped in its holster by her waist. But, and this was most amazing of all, she was still breathing. After all that, the damned woman was still alive.
Perhaps Torn wouldn't kill them when they reported back.
* * *
Don't worry, I plan on updating another chapter soon. I just want to clear this up before you guys start verbally attacking me:
This is not going to be a Jak/OC fic in any way, shape, or form. In my opinion, Jak already has enough trouble with the whole Jak/ Kiera/ Ashelin triangle going on there. Not to mention his numerous fangirls, who would kill me if I took their precious goat-boy away from them. (pfft. Torn is so much better) And trust me, don't even get any ideas about this being a Mary- Sue; I tend to find perfect people boring.
Well, that's about it for now, so review and keep an eye out for chapter two. (which should be up by next week - when I post chapter 28 of Cumulus academy) Ciao!