Full Circle

Disclaimer: I do not own Jak and Daxter, nor anything that belongs to Naughty Dog.

Author's Note: Forgive the late, extremely late update. Life caught up to me.

Warnings: If you haven't played the Jak and Daxter games, there might be some spoilers. Possibly graphic images to some.

Dedication: If it wasn't for MistyDL99, I honestly don't think I would have come back to this. Thanks for the idea! And to all of my other reviewers and readers, I'm ready to hear what you got to say! Thank you The Dark Strategist and Choco peep for your support (even if it was years ago).

August, 5000 – Fortress – Offices

"Are you sure you want to be transferred?" their HR woman was short and stout with about a thousand golden pins holding her hideous yellow hair in place. She was gruff and crude, chewing on purple mushroom leaves that left her teeth stained a horrendous purple and green. But...

No, Cutter decided as he tried his hardest not to stare at her teeth. Nothing can make up for the horror of having to deal with this woman… Snapping back to reality and away from the purple, he nodded once quickly, standing before her desk without uniform. If everything went correctly, he would be issued new armor and weapons within fifteen minutes.

She snorted and a glob of something purple trickled out of one nostril to land on his paperwork. Horrified, he could only watch as she smeared it away, leaving an even longer trail of colored snot on the transfer papers. "Alright, whatever you say kid. You're good to go. Transferred straight into the dungeons," she drawled and handed him the small stack of papers. "Why anyone would want to go there…"

A motion of 'shoo' was his only cue that it was time to leave and head to the armory to receive his new provisions. Cutter couldn't leave fast enough.

Once in the hallway, a guard leaning against the wall looked up at him, bright, fiery orange hair surrounding a pale and freckled face. "You transferred?" Errol asked, unfolding his arms to reach for the transfer papers. Scanning them quickly, Cutter pocketed them back into his loose jeans, aching for the protection of the armor. "Good. Go down and get your armor then report to the Prison Cells, Block 2B. We'll wait—but not for long," he ordered and sauntered off towards the cells in the lowest levels of the Fortress.

Saluting to his superior's back, Cutter hurried in the opposite direction and up a few flights of stairs.

He wasn't sure why he had asked to transfer with Errol into the Program, as it was called. But that voice, the one that hadn't left him since that day in the Wasteland, murmured that it might be a good idea. He, Cutter was sure the voice was a he at this point, mentioned that the dark eco was calling him there. That he needed to be there when the scientists opened the containers. Cutter was under the belief that there was no way that the scientists hadn't already opened them under curiosity, but the voice was adamant that nothing had been disturbed yet.

Trust me, that voice slithered into his thoughts again and he shivered, I'd know.

Cellblock 2B previously had not existed. Well, in a manner of speaking it had. But to the general public, to the general guard force, it had not existed.

Cutter hadn't even known of its existence until Errol had walked up to him the week before and asked him if he wanted to transfer into a new, experimental guard force. Upon agreeing to the transfer he had expected to learn a little bit more about Cellblock 2B and the secrets it was obviously hiding.

Unfortunately, nothing was revealed. He was told he'd have to wait for his transfer to get approved by the Baron before anything else would be released. But now that he was transferred, it was time to learn what all the buzz was about.

After receiving his new armor, armor that looked exactly the same as his previous Krimzon Guard armor, he made his way back down into the prison, three stories beneath ground level and far away from the public and sunlight. Cellblock 1A, 2A, 3A and 1B were just as he imagined a prison cellblock looked like. Brightly light, almost painfully so, with steel cells on each side of him full of people who had wronged Haven City in some way.

But as he left 2B and went down another flight of stairs, things began to look a little different.

Clean concrete and steel cells disappeared to be replaced by old stone and mortar walls. Water dripped between open cracks to form puddles on the floor that would never be mopped or swept clean. Lights were replaced with torches and he swore that he could hear the sounds of small animals scurrying about behind the walls.

A bright flourscent light gleamed at the end of the tunnel and a guard stood at the entrance into the cellblock. Cutter hurried through the dark, pulling his badge out and lifting his new metal mask up as he went. "Cutter Mitchell, just transferred," he introduced himself and handed the stained transfer papers over, glancing over his shoulder at the dark ominous tunnel. A shiver raced down his spine. What have I gotten myself into?

As the guard ran his information through the small computer at his station, Cutter tried to look over the guard's shoulder into the next hallway. Nothing could be seen but something sweet was in the air with a mild acidic aftertaste that burned the back of his throat. The voice in his head recognized it with a soft sound that didn't do anything to calm his nerves. The papers were handed back and the gate opened behind the guard's station with an earsplitting creak. "Go on, the Baron's waiting," he muttered and idly began playing with a pen.

The floor was covered in green algae, squashed where other guards had walked on it and there were strange dark brown stains in certain areas, slowly being covered up by the plants. His frown deepened, just what is going on down here? This hallway was lit by torches as well and every step taken echoed against the walls and the dripping water.

Another door was at the end of this hallway underneath a singular fluorescent light and he pushed it open, grunting against the weight of the metal. When it was open wide enough to allow sound to pass, he almost shut the door again and ran back upstairs. He pressed his back against the door, eyes wide and heart pounding against his ribcage. The noises were still echoing in his head.

People were screaming.

"What the fuck…?" he whispered and shouldered his way into the cellblock. Cells lined either side of him, stretching down a long hallway to another florescent light at the end. Torches were placed next to each cell casting a dim light on what he hoped were just muddy water puddles on the floor. The screams had died down to mere whimpers, soft cries asking for water, food, help, even more eco from some of them.

Cutter crept slowly down the cellblock, looking into each cell he passed, eyes wide and fingers clenched tight at his hips. Every cell was occupied by someone. Males and females of all ages clung to the bars, begging him vocally and silently. Some of them looked relatively healthy, a few scratches, maybe a little rib beginning to show beneath the drab, brown prison garb. But a few of them… He hurried past those, trying to keep his focus on the light and not what was in those cells.

Stop.

He stopped and looked. The last cell on the right held a prone specimen. Inside was a woman… or what might have once been a woman. She was on her stomach by the bars, staring up at him through large black eyes, bug-eyed and without a pupil. Bony protrusions jutted out from her back in different heights, blood and flesh hanging off of them weakly where something had gone wrong. An extra limb of some sort flopped out of her stomach, additional appendages opening and closing in the air without rhythm or use.

Get closer.

He crouched down, not his own intrigue overruling his personal disgust as he stared at her. She rolled her eyes up to look at him and as she opened her mouth, something fell out, hitting the floor.

"Ahh!" Her tongue dragged on the algae, blood weeping from it as she gurgled on the appendage, real fingers now grasping at the bars, their neighboring nubs bumping against the metal. "Kill… me…" she hissed around her tongue. Black eyes blinked vertically then horizontally. "Kill me… before they do."

"NO! GET AWAY!"

Errol and another guard were attracted by his yelling and his commander rushed into the cells, kicking the woman through the bars into the corner. She screamed as the bony protrusions on her back shattered against the wall and Cutter could only cover his face and scream with her. The voice was laughing, loudly and constantly, and Cutter could imagine, just for a second, a white horned face grinning at him, with pitch black eyes, lacking a pupil.

You've just met the beginning, Cutter. She's only the start…

He opened his mouth and screamed.