The stupid thing about this latest round is that, when I originally wrote the prompts, I was really, really happy with the results- but after couple of days passed, I looked at them again and just sorta went, "Uh okay. That was... something". I seriously considered just scrapping the lot and starting from scratch, but still liked the ideas and doubted that I could express them any more effectively. I waited a little while to come to a conclusion, remained indecisive, and puttered around unproductively for a day or so.
So today I figured that I'd just post what I've got and trust you guys to tell me if I screwed up. I'm horribly afraid of making mistakes, but I need get over it, so be honest here, okay? As a disclaimer, here's the AN I wrote right after completing this chapter:
"In order to make up for the lack of silliness last time, I went out of my way to pick a couple of the zaniest, classic-fandom prompts I could ("Swap" and "catalyst") and topped it off with a common crossover ("Parallel". Don't worry, you can get the gist of it without knowing much of anything about Jak and Daxter).
Basically, I was just having fun. Hope you guys do, too!
No new warnings this chapter, as far as spoilers are concerned. There isn't that much more that can be spoiled. I suppose I should say that one prompt is AU, one's a crossover (though they're labeled as such), and they're all a little nonsensical in their own ways.
(Spot the nod to Turtles Forever, win an e-high-five!)"
Swap
Ratchet just would not stop laughing. Every time he quieted himself long enough to say something, he just wound up cracking up again. In any other scenario, Clank would have wondered whether it was being caused by some sort of airborne chemical, similar in composition to Lombax Snooze Mist, but even that wouldn't explain this behavior.
The mechanic peered up at him through narrowed green optics, trying to stifle his continued snickering, and made a valiant attempt to speak up. Clank sighed and seated himself on the ground, waiting. The lombax's tail swished, gently colliding with him, and he had to fight down a wave of hysterics, himself.
When he trusted himself to speak and Ratchet seemed to have calmed considerably, he reached over to his friend, "I do not suppose you are through?"
Ratchet choked back another laugh and nodded tersely. Another twitch of the tail.
"Then perhaps you can tell me how to stop that." The impromptu-lombax said, staring helplessly at the appendage, unable to understand its erratic movement. He'd always thought that it was a conscious choice on Ratchet's part...
Ratchet offered him a sympathetic smile, effectively sobered, and placed a hand on his arm, just above where the glove ended, "You're just gonna have to ignore it, pal; it'll stop when you calm down."
"Ah, yes. Is this advice coming from a true expert on that subject?"
The other gave him a dry look, and Clank had to wonder whether that was the same expression he treated Ratchet to on a semi-regular basis. If so, he had just realized why it was as effective as it was.
Sheepishly, he glanced away and rose up, "Er, I believe we should be attempting to make our way back to Nefarious's headquarters."
Ratchet scoffed, kicking at the ground listlessly, "Oh yeah, that's gonna be a fun trip. You get to figure out how use the hoverboots and not to get a mouthful of dirt- after biting the dust a dozen times, if my experience is anything to go by- and I'll try to avoid corrupting any of your systems."
Frowning at the response, Clank seized his- literally his, though, for the sake of clarity, it would be better to say Ratchet's- arm and swung his companion up to the harness on his back, something that he'd experienced a countless number of times. This time, their heads cracked together, making the former robot see stars and inspiring Ratchet to curse quietly.
"Off to a great start, here."
"Oh, hush."
Stooping to retrieve the nearly-forgotten omniwrench, Clank got about five paces before Ratchet spoke up again, "Uh, Clank? Qwark was with us before we got blasted out of Nefarious's HQ, right?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because we really got lucky." Amusement clear in his tone, he added, "I dunno if Qwark and Nefarious were affected the same way we were, but can you imagine?"
For the first time since their crash-landing in the forested area, it wasn't Clank's distinctive giggling that rang out, but Ratchet's laughter.
Mature
"For all your complaining about being considered an adolescent, your behavior does not suggest you are anything else."
Doing absolutely nothing to dispel this notion, Ratchet stuck his tongue out and flicked at Clank's antennae.
Cope
"What…is that?"
The mechanic glanced down at the plush toy in his arms and felt his face heat up. "It's… uh…" He ventured, debating how exactly to answer— he was, with good reason, extremely reluctant to admit that it had been one of Qwark's less tactless attempts to drag him out of his depression after Tachyon's defeat. "It's… a gag gift. From Qwark."
"From Captain Qwark." Clank repeated doubtfully, "And I am to believe that you kept it?"
Ratchet toyed with the little bowtie on the imaginary agent, tail twitching slightly, "Well, yeah… Qwark's a moron, but he's not completely clueless."
"I was under the impression that you disliked Secret Agent Clank."
"Can't say much for the show—not with the direction it gets" This earned a noncommittal shrug from the mech, but it was easy to tell that he found the sentiment entertaining, "but, ah, Agent Clank's a pretty good guy. Helped me out when it counted, anyway…"
For a second, the part-time agent in question contemplated this, before deciding to play along "And you trust him to chase away your nightmares?"
There was another silence, and Ratchet finally nodded, "Yeah. I actually do."
Catalyst (AU)
"So, all you need is a ride off-planet? To find Captain Qwark?" The lombax shot a furtive glance toward his door, as though afraid he would be overheard, "Yeah, I think I can do that. There's just one problem- my ship kinda... doesn't work."
The robot standing next to him- on his level only because he was sitting on the floor- stared at him blankly, like he didn't even consider it a problem.
Jumping to his feet, the young mechanic folded his arms over his chest, "C'mon, let's go take a look at it. I could use a second opinion. Every time I ask my dad he just starts stalling, saying stuff like 'It'll get done when it gets done' and 'Be patient, Yeung, it'll be worth it- there's nothing like taking your first ship up on her maiden voyage', and my favorite, 'I don't see the problem. Let me go ask Al, he's better at these things.'"
He huffed, taking his acquaintance by the hand and half-leading-half-dragging him through the house, ears perked up, listening for any older lombaxes who might be lurking around the corner.
"Is that your name, sir? Yeung?"
The adolescent lombax froze, realizing what he'd just said, before pressing onward, "Uh, can we forget I mentioned that part? If you wanna call me something, call me Ratchet- no 'sir' required."
"Do you dislike the name 'Yeung'?" The little 'bot asked, looking genuinely curious.
"Dislike? Not really. It's just not much of a name, you know?" Ratchet shook his head and held one hand up in a silent gesture to stay put. "Hold on, I think someone's in the garage."
He peered through the doorway and frowned, rolling his eyes and taking half of a step forward before calling out, "Go home, Alister!"
"And leave you alone with Perilune and Apastron? I don't think so." Came the answering shout, "Figure out what's wrong with your ship yet, bright eyes?"
Ratchet huffed and grumbled something that, even from less than a cubit away, his companion couldn't understand, before turning on his heel and stalking off in a seemingly-random direction, "We'll just have to wait it out so Alister doesn't catch us. He'd just tell dad, and then dad'd chew me out."
"If I may, this is a pressing matter. Why do you wish to keep it quiet?"
"I'll tell you later... uh, what was your name, again?" He made a face, "Did you even tell me?"
"I did not. My serial number is B542-"
"I don't think that's going to work. Let's just call you... er... 'Clank' sounds good. Does it sound good to you?" Eagerly, the lombax looked to the newly-dubbed Clank for a response. What he got was a baffled shrug.
"Well, Clank, none of that matters right now. We're gonna go find Captain Qwark! Just as soon as Alister leaves the garage..."
Belated
"Let that be a lesson to you, Ratchet," The lombax muttered under his breath, doing a truly terrible impression of Clank, "You would be wise not to irritate the man pointing a gun at you."
He sighed, abandoning the mimicry, "Why am I just learning this now?"
Realization
It was difficult to live with someone for upwards of a decade and not learn a thing or two about them. For instance, Clank had discovered- early on- that Ratchet was incredibly adept at saying one thing and meaning something else entirely.
He learned this early on, but it took him awhile to figure it out. And figure it out he had.
The little robot was still unsure whether this had been a wise move on his part or not.
"Could you hand me that hammer?" Ratchet asked, flat on his back as he worked on his latest project. Not quite a Skyburst 3000, but one took what one could get.
Without missing a beat, Clank handed him a regular-sized, non-weaponized wrench.
The mechanic didn't look at the tool he'd been handed as he went back to work, "Thanks, pal."
Parallel (Crossover)
"Prove it, you little space rat."
"Space rat? Oh, it's on."
"Perhaps we should- ah- intervene?" Clank asked, watching from a distance as Ratchet tackled the humanoid and sent the pair of them sprawling. The little robot had to question the logic in this, since- counting his ears (which was probably cheating)- the lombax only came up to the other's chest. He wasn't helpless- not by a long shot- but, when it came to contests of strength, size mattered.
Beside Clank, a petite orange-furred mammal scoffed, "And get in the middle of that? No thanks. 'Sides, I don't think it's gonna go anywhere- not like it's a real fight or anything."
For several seconds, Clank remained silent, watching the not-quite-brawl apathetically, "I suppose you are correct. The problem is liable to take care of itself."
It took awhile, but that was- more or less- what happened. It was easy to recognize when the impromptu-wrestling match was about to come to an end, since it involved Jak pinning the lombax to the ground.
Daxter whooped, egging them on, and Clank shook his head at the situation in general. No sense in singling anybody out when they were all acting crazy.
Several yards away, Ratchet managed to get out from under his opponent and, after regaining his breath, got back to his feet. Without stopping to consider his actions, he offered a hand to Jak, who- surprising absolutely nobody- ignored it and got up on his own. They did, however, agree to a handshake.
Clank looked on in approval, and- to himself, more than anyone else- said, "It is impressive, the changes two small years can inspire in a person."
"Yeah." Daxter said, smile fading, "Impressive..."
Advisor
When he was provided with the opportunity, Clank was all too eager to interrogate the Plumber outside of the Polar Sea. It wasn't a life-or-death situation, as it had been in Apogee Station- and, either way, he couldn't blame Ratchet for not questioning the Novalian, considering he'd just saved him and Talwyn from drowning- in fact, their current situation practically required them to stay put and be patient.
From where he was standing on the icy terrain, waiting for the right time to speak up, it occurred to the small robot that he was probably the only one handling this development with anything akin to grace. As though the universe itself had heard his internal monologue and deemed this worthy of confirmation, he got his answer within thirty seconds.
Above, on the transport, he heard two lowered voices: Ratchet and Nefarious. Clank certainly hoped that he wouldn't have to put a stop to any more- for lack of a better term- evil plots. Nefarious had already proven to be a spectacularly bad influence on the lombax. They'd nearly gone the entire year without any utterance of "I'm going to kill Qwark", but that had gone flying out the window several hours previously.
Oh well. There was always next year.
Next to him, the Plumber drew away from the machine wearing a contemplative expression that Clank immediately recognized. He was taking a step back to get a different perspective on his work. Back at the garage, that rarely preceded any sort of good news, and the little mech was inclined to offer a hand before the situation got any worse.
"May I be of any assistance?" He asked, taking several steps forward.
"No need- I may not look it, but I promise you, I'm a professional."
"If you are as proficient in your craft as you are in others, I do not doubt it; there have certainly been times where I questioned how far your knowledge extends. For instance, I have wondered how you came to find yourself in my memory banks, or happened to wind up with a spare part that is exceedingly difficult to come by." Belatedly realizing that he was getting ahead of himself, Clank amended, "I do not mean to distract you from your work, but we seem to have a moment."
The Plumber's eyebrows rose and he studied the robot over the rims of his glasses for several seconds, looking- of all things- amused, "Can't say it's anything special. You would be amazed where a fella can end up if he takes a wrong turn on Breegus Minor, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you what all I find in my line of work, action figures aside."
"I refuse to believe that. Had you not provided us with that washer- a three-and-three-quarters centicubit hexagonal washer, the exact component we required- it would have been impossible to repair the Dimensionator. If I had not met you in my subconscious..." He shook his head, and rephrased what he'd been about to say, "I would never have risked using the Great Clock if you had not suggested it, even indirectly as you did. Without anyone to stand up to him, the General surely would have done irreparable damage to the Clock."
Clank trailed off and glanced over at the transport, which, of course, was impossible to see over. The loud arguing from above told him everything he needed to know, though. "And I would have lost Ratchet." He looked back to the Novalian and bowed his head, "I owe you a great deal of gratitude."
The Plumber waved the thanks off, "Friend, I'm a plumber- it's my job to see these things comin' an' stop 'em before they can cause any trouble. You don't owe me anything."
"Perhaps you feel that way, but I will respectfully disagree." The robot looked back at the transport and fell silent, not exactly deep in thought, but he certainly wasn't just staring into space, either.
A few feet away, the Novalian set his wrench off to one side- easy to access, but not in the way for the time being- and adjusted his glasses before tapping the mech on the shoulder to get his attention.
"Need another boost?" He asked, offering him a hand.
Automatically- as he was used to being hoisted up and locked into the harness- Clank accepted the offer and, predictably, was raised up as far as the Plumber's height would allow. It wasn't quite enough to reach the platform, though.
"One'a you fellas mind givin' me a hand here?" The Novalian called up to the three above them.
A second later, Ratchet peered over the transport's side, on all fours to reduce the distance between them. It took him a few more seconds to realize what, exactly, was going on, but extended a hand when he figured it out, and effortlessly lifted the robot up to his level.
"So what are you doing here, anyway?" The mechanic asked as soon as his task was done, still leaning over the transport's side, "After the sewers back on Aquatos, the Apogee Station aqueduct and, uh, whatever happened back on Sargasso, this seems a little out of place. Change in management?"
"Yep. Home office sent me out here to fix a broken versafuse..."
Reason
The evening that the fiasco in the Great Clock was settled, Aphelion docked them at the nearest hospitable planet and more-or-less forced her self-appointed charges to go find a proper place to rest after catching Ratchet fighting to stay awake.
With any other ship, half-falling asleep at the controls was practically asking to have one's pilot's license revoked, but with Aphelion, it was less life-threatening and more nag-inducing; she would take over long before steering became an issue, but also had a tendency to not let you forget it for weeks to come. (On a side note, Ratchet didn't have a pilot's license to revoke in the first place, so there wasn't much that a theoretical galactic enforcer could do about that, anyway, short of trying to make a conviction stick. Not easy when pitted against an inter-galactic hero, even if they were in the wrong- as Qwark had proven time and time again.)
That was how they'd wound up in the most convenient hotel to be found- which was to say, the closet- with Ratchet sprawled out on the room's couch, occasionally twitching in his sleep, and Clank leaned up against him, internal timer set to rouse himself from sleep mode at varying intervals. It wasn't a position they would normally put themselves in, back home, but this was something of an exception.
Ratchet needed to have Clank close, to know that they were both safe and that he wasn't alone anymore, and Clank woke himself to reaffirm that Ratchet was still alright, that his heart still beat. Though he said nothing on the subject, in the back of his processor, he feared that the reprieve the Great Clock had granted could be taken away just as easily as it had been given.
Had either of them been even slightly coherent, their reasoning- however it was phrased- would come down to the same thing: "I need to have him close, just to be sure. I can't lose him again."
For the immediate future, the exception would become the rule.
Team
Nefarious reasoned that his mistake had been getting to know his enemies.
Even conceding and repairing Spog had been crossing the line- he should have just let that blasted lombax figure it out. They would have been there for a while, but it wouldn't have given his "teammates" the idea that he was willing to go to any trouble for their sakes. Besides, the way the lombaxes of the past invented, there was no doubt that something would have gone wrong, and he would have been able to gloat.
Instead, he had repaired the commander, heeding the advice of a traitor to robotkind. He had allowed himself to preen- even the slightest amount- under the praise he received for locating Ephemeris's charging dock. He had apologized to Qwark. Apologized! What had he been thinking?
Had he been possessed? He couldn't think of any other reason for saving that moron from the Loki, rather than feeding him to it.
It bothered him. And not because he regretted his choice. It bothered him because he thought he might make the same choice if presented with the opportunity. Like it or not, the idiot had saved him from toppling into open air, but it wasn't that he'd felt the need to return the favor- he hadn't really thought about what he was doing before batting the Loki away- and he didn't know where that left him.
They'd been worried about him, too- the lot of them. While he'd been dangling over the platform's edge, Nefarious had been able to hear the half-pints shouting encouragement to both him and Qwark. Why would they do a thing like that? They'd nearly killed him on more than one occasion, and he'd certainly returned the favor, so what had changed?
It made his gears grind- literally- and may or may not have sent him into another one of his episodes.
He knew what had changed on his front. He'd learned what they were like outside of battle and not being ranted at. He'd seen, first hand, how Ratchet and Clank would cover for each other in a fight, and been surprised when they'd extended that protection to him, too. He had liked the way they baited Qwark into the Deadgrove- even though it meant that he'd had to come along or be left with that disturbing critter.
He was becoming friends with his enemies.
So he stole their ship.
The only purpose it would serve was slowing them down- because, if somebody could recover from being flung into space while strapped to an asteroid, they could figure out an alternative way to leave a planet- but it made Nefarious feel better. He'd figure out the latest adventure's implications later. For the time being, he just wanted to feel properly evil.
As much as he hated to admit it, the universe always seemed to right itself.