Author's Note: This is the shortest one-shot for this fandom I've posted yet. Just a quick look into this scene--the entire thing's cookie-sized, I'd say. Oh well. Enjoy the cookie!
The world spun wildly out of control for a moment, and Jak staggered unsteadily from it
Jak staggered unsteadily as the world spun wildly out of control around him. The roar of dark eco through his veins was subsiding, but the menacing growl that promised later returns stayed. Jak clutched his head with one hand, throwing the other to one side for balance—and then it was over, the world righting itself with one last, malicious tilt.
"You okay, Jak?" Daxter asked uneasily, staring up at his taller friend. He'd asked that question more times in the last hour than he would have in a week, back before the rift gate. No matter what answer Jak gave, Daxter still wasn't sure what the final one would be. After all, nothing could ever really be okay after all that had happened…
Jak clenched his fist against the side of his head, hissing his reply through gritted teeth. "Those… bastards—they did something to me… I…" The fist at his head slowly lowered, trembling as though from some great effort. "I don't know… I can't control it, it's all…"
Before Jak could notice his friend's expression, how the ottsel was trying not to seem so miserable for seeing his best friend in this wretched state, the old man watching them spoke up. Jak's eyes swiveled to lock on him, a glimmer of some uncontrollable hate rising unasked for at the old man's tone. Memories too fresh were screaming over the similarities, and prison-honed instincts were shrilling for some act of violence, some terrible action to satisfy this sudden lust to kill the attitude it heard in that voice. That very same attitude towards his suffering that had tormented him these two, horribly long years…
"Interesting," the old man was saying, "very interesting…."