A Krimzon Past

Overturned and Reformed

"You're unhinged Erol…"

"Who cares? I can kill you and that!" Erol bellowed as he signalled into the darkness with his own gun at what he had been aiming at. Torn looked past Erol to see what he had been looking at before he had arrived.

"Oh crap…" Torn gasped as he stared at the figure stood outside the Oracle's shack. He had to blink at least twice just to check if he was dreaming.

"Look who's joined us Torn…" Erol laughed as he pointed the other gun at the figure also. Torn's feet were rooted to the ground as he looked onwards…

"It's…" Torn muttered as he glanced from Erol to the figure, not sure if it was some sort of trick Erol had done. Torn then studied the figure closely. They were stood on the edge of the wooden pathway, stood hunched over slightly as they peered into the waters, apparently staring at their own reflection… as if hypnotised. The figure did not seem to have noticed Erol and Torn's presence. A warm glow that seeped out from the gaps of the door to the Oracle bathed the figure in a dim yellow-orange glow.

"Not even noticed us… What did they do to you?" Torn asked the figure, which still did not seem to acknowledge their presence, which seemed to unnerve Erol slightly, who fidgeted a little. Torn moved slowly, as to not alarm Erol who was evidently twitchy, to Erol's side to get a better view. "Don't you recognise my voice Zeyraa?" Torn asked calmly.

At the sound of her name, she raised her head almost robotically, but that is all she did. She remained on the spot, almost statue-like. Torn stepped forwards once carefully making the wood below his feet creak slightly, breaking the silence but it also plunged the surroundings into silence. None of them moved or spoke, the only noise that could be heard was the faint humming sound that the Oracle made.

"Enough of this… I will end this now!" Erol growled, pushing past Torn forcibly, almost making him fall into the waters below and headed directly for Zeyraa. He pointed both guns at her, pressing his fingers gently against the triggers, preparing to fire at her - to shoot and to kill.

As a plank of wood creaked under his feet, Erol stopped and glanced down at his feet and then back up at Zeyraa. He gasped as he saw that she had turned to face him, her eyes staring directly at him. She looked terrible; she had been stripped of her custom Krimzon Guard armour and had been given a prison uniform, grimy and ripped. Letters from the precursor alphabet were just visible through the grime on the ripped trouser leg: '616-Omega'.

Her dreadlocks were also grimy and unkempt but still intact and much longer than Torn remembered. Her nails were longer and grubby as was her skin, but she was also pale, not seeing the sky for months. The Baron had left a time gap between announcing her supposed death to the public and capturing her, so to not arouse suspicions.

She stepped forward, making very little sound as she moved – she was bare foot. Erol pulled the trigger of the blasters, aiming at Zeyraa but the blasts did not meet their target. Erol took a step backwards, looking confused at the woman. She remained stood where she had been, unharmed. She blinked, revealing her normal emerald green eyes had flashed white. It was only then evident as to what she had done. There was a faint humming noise surrounding her as the air seemed to distort. Suddenly it disappeared, reverting the air to normal. Had it been some sort of shield? As it disappeared, her eyes returned back to their normal colour. She grabbed her head as if she was in pain, letting out a little cry of agony, staggering backwards slightly.

Erol saw this as his chance to strike but not before Torn could intervene. Torn leaped at Erol in an attempt to disarm him by pulling at his arm.

There were two gunshots, followed by a loud splash of water as a body hit its smooth silk-like appearance and a loud thud as a body slammed to the wooden boards on the ground…

Torn glanced at where he had seen Zeyraa fall into the waters. He tried to move but found himself clutching at his side, a deep gash wound seeping blood down his side. Erol stood staring at the waters before laughing triumphantly, thinking that he had killed both Torn and Zeyraa.

Torn slowly picked himself up and quietly turned away from Erol. He knew he would have to make a break for it… With the wound Torn had sustained, Erol would have the advantage of speed. He broke into a sprint, even though it pained him greatly to do so, running away towards the slum district. Erol turned his head at the sound of the heavy footsteps of Torn sprinting and began to give chase.

"I will hunt you down!" Erol roared, shooting at Torn but missing. This allowed Torn to increase the distance between them as Erol had to slow down to aim at him. Torn made incredible pace towards the exit of the slums, finding himself near the cruiser they had travelled to the water slums in. He clambered inside, being met with more gunshots from Erol, all of which missed. Torn revved the engine on the cruiser and turned away from Erol. He then put his foot down, speeding, at a reasonable pace, into the slum district.

***

"Torn?" asked the familiar voice of Jak. Torn snapped out of his thoughts to see that Jak had entered the base, and was staring at Torn in a confused manner. Torn cleared his throat.

"Where's the rat?" Torn asked, making reference to Jak's empty shoulder pad, which was normally occupied by Daxter. Jak shrugged.

"He's with Tess," Jak laughed, but his laughing soon turned to a serious expression. "What's with you? I hear Ashelin is pissed with you…" he added. Torn sighed, nodding. "She came over to the Naughty Ottsel and burst into tears, saying that it's over between you two… whaddya do? Sleep with her friend?" Jak said grinning. Torn looked away, not amused at how well Jak had hit the nail on the head. Jak fell silent at Torn's expression.

"Shit Torn…"

"Hey it was a long time ago!" Torn retorted.

"Hey, don't get me involved!" Jak argued back. Torn sighed, calming down instantly. He placed a hand over his eyes and lay down on the bunk bed.

"Yeah… sorry about that… All of this fighting has got me thinking about my past… When Erol died at the Stadium, I thought I could finally forget everything… but it seems that the past will always haunt me…"

"Doesn't everyone's?" Jak asked calmly.

"I've done terrible things Jak…"

"And so have I… lighten up… Look, I have to go and run an errand for old Samos, just cool down ok?" Jak muttered as he began to leave.

"Yeah, yer probably right…" Torn muttered almost inaudibly. As the door closed behind Jak, leaving Torn alone, he couldn't help but remember the past.

***

Torn turned his head to see if he was being tailed by Erol… but he seemed alone for the time being. Torn navigated the streets calmly, not knowing where to go, he was a fugitive now, a renegade – he had nowhere to hide. If he had known the location of the underground base he would have made tracks for there, but without such knowledge, he was stranded. It was only a matter of time before Erol found him – as he would surely follow him.

Torn glanced down at his wound, it was bleeding badly, he'd need medical attention immediately or this escape would be for nothing. But the city was not safe; he had to get out of it quick. He put his foot flat to the floor, speeding towards the dead town gate.

Much to Torn's dismay, he heard screams in the distance behind him and the sound of a distant zoomer, but he dared not look; knowing full well who was following him. As he rounded the final corner, he leaped out of the cruiser and rushed towards the gate, jumping down into the little fissure to reach it. He could not run at full speed, his wounds prevented him from doing so, but perhaps that would not matter considering that he would not be alone in dead town… and Erol had his weapon.

As the second gate opened, he darted as fast as he could, still clutching his side, into the boggy swamp-like lands. He looked frantically around him for a fast escape route. He had so little time. He looked into the distance where he could see a building of some sort that very much resembled a shack. Torn darted forwards, leaping over bodies of water to land safely on small islands.

Torn noticed that his feet somehow picked up speed as he navigated his way through dead town towards the shack in the distance, leaping over small bridges and lifting himself onto a plaza surrounded in pillars. It was strange that when his life was in danger, he could run that little bit faster, become that little bit stronger and even become that little bit more perceptive – he even remembered an old saying from when he was a child that seemed to relate to his situation – 'They say that when a lurker is close to death, he is at his most dangerous…'

He found himself stood staring at the old shack, a large fissure between him and the safety it provided.

"Where are you Torn?" bellowed a voice from near the gate. Torn glanced around a pillar and saw Erol in the distance, trying to locate him. Torn had virtually no time, Erol would soon find him if he was not careful. He turned back towards the old building and stepped backwards a few feet, the leap was too great for him to make it… He would have little choice but to get to higher ground. Torn turned to one of the pillars close to him and began to scale it, being careful not to put too much strain on his wound. As he neared the top of it, it began to crack and shift slightly…

"Oh crap…" Torn growled. The pillar began to sway slightly, moving under Torn's weight. The pillar began to move towards the old shack, leaning ever further outwards… leaning precariously over the edge, yet somehow managing to stay reasonably upright. At this Torn had an idea. He began to push his weight into the pillar in an attempt to make it topple over towards the shack.

As the pillar began to topple, Torn lifted himself to his feet and began to charge along the shaft of the pillar towards the end. The pillar began to accelerate, picking up momentum as it toppled, making it easier to run along as it began to level out. Torn was close to the edge of the pillar now and could almost touch the shack… but the pillar had other ideas. It began to lower further still, now giving Torn the disadvantage. He had to think quickly.

He lowered his weight slightly as he ran and as he neared the edge of the pillar, he pushed himself up, catapulting himself towards the shack's window. He could feel the wind whizz past him slowing him down slightly, but nonetheless he had pushed off the pillar with tremendous force. His breathes seemed to slow down, as did time itself as he was propelled. His heart skipped a beat… he was unsure if he could make the distance… Perhaps this was the end for him…

He reached outwards, flailing wildly to attempt to grab hold of something, anything, just so long as it could break his fall. His fingertips were met with something wooden that caused his hand to grasp. His other hand joined in and instead of falling down, he arced round as if on a pivot, towards an upright position with his feet pointing down. His face hit the wooden surface also, closely followed by his body.

"Ooff…" he growled. He looked upwards, his face hurting but his side throbbing more so. He then began to laugh triumphantly as he realised what h had done. He had made the leap and now stood dangling off the window ledge of the rundown old shack. Behind him there was an almighty crash as the pillar collapsed below him…. He knew that would attract Erol.

He started to pull himself up and into the old shack, collapsing on the ground, panting heavily. He stared up at the ceiling and chuckled to himself at cheating death yet again.

"Holy Yakow!" he whispered through heavy breaths. His breaths began to slow and lighten as he heard the sound of footsteps on the ledge he had just leaped out of.

"I know you're here Torn!" Bellowed the voice of Erol. Torn clenched his fists at his voice. "I killed Zeyraa… what's to say that I won't kill you too?" he yelled in question. Torn remained silent, determined not to give away his position. He remained deadly still, not even moving to tend to his wound which oozed blood, making him weaker.

"You know Torn… I'm going to enjoy burning that bitch's body once it's dried out…" Erol laughed trying to rile Torn. Torn closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, a look of despondency across his face. "Pitiful… you'll die out here Torn… And if the Metal heads don't kill you, I will!" Erol roared with a sense of anger in his voice. The last thing Torn remembered was the sound of Erol storming off leaving the cold air to embrace Torn, making him feel weak and tired. He drifted off into a deep sleep that would surely become deadly if he was not helped.

He lay there, helplessly; his wound would attract Metal heads who would kill him… if his injury didn't first…