Chapter 7: Damages
The abrupt refusal to answer snapped Torn back into action. As a rebel for their cause Jak still answered to him. He called out, demanding explanation. He leapt to his feet, and exercising the grip of a soldier with twice Jak's experience, stopped the kid in his tracks, cutting off his escape. Looking him square in the eye, his face let the kid know he wasn't getting away with just that cryptic pile of bull. Not under his watch.
Only, he didn't. He didn't do any of those things.
This was the course of action taking place in his head, but for some reason he couldn't put his gut reaction into practice.
For the first time, the ready commands poised on his tongue were halted, leashed by one single thought. The commander sat blinking in disbelief as the soft, hard echo of the blonde's bare-footed retreat faded down the hall.
The scars, he had less than a clue about. But he knew an identification number when he saw one.
That tattoo came from the Penitentiary. His knuckles whitened a shade.
Jak. Came from the Penitentiary.
Torn turned a stony eye forward, considering.
He understood.
He understood that he understood monumentally less than he'd originally thought.
The Haven Penitentiary was a fortress beyond escape, and this was not a question.
He knew this acutely well, having once served the system that armed her. His paranoia of the blonde hell-blazer increased ten-fold, and he felt the cold sweat break out in response to the two disturbing prospects now blaring in his mind.
First.
The first question was what had been done to someone so goddamn young inside its walls- Jak could still only pass for a minor now.
Second.. He ran his hand over his mouth as he considered that one.
The second was what exactly his escape from an inescapable complex meant.
The question hissed in the recesses of his mind now with more insistence than ever before;
Who. Was. Jak.
._._._._._._.
For Jak, that prison was a living hell on earth. A taste of the torture the afterlife held in waiting for the wickedest of souls. Brought to him early.
Only he was nothing of the sort. Or hadn't been. He didn't know now.
What he did know, was that he now bore the marks of her care. Her caress was the lash of the proverbial whip, the scalding black current coursing angrily through his veins. Running across his back. Her touch, her hold was the unyielding steel bracing twin restraints. These were now rings running over the flesh of his wrists.
The torment that never left. The sort he couldn't hide beneath gear and gloves-
That was forever fixed within his mind, disturbing every dream.
But the indisputable, most permanent mark of her ownership he bore was inked across his back, black and unrepentant. P0251- a nametag, shared by the two hundred and fifty before him to be tainted by her most twisted forms of attention. As a prisoner, he was given a new label; christened Subject 251 of the highly classified Dark Warrior Program. He was the last recruited subject. And after two agonizing years, he was also its only success. And so the mother, in perverse pride and twisted glee, gave birth to a monster.
Despite his resistance, despite his every last straining effort, he had become a product of Haven.
He didn't have a reason to hide it. But no one had given him one worth revealing it for either.
So it remained Haven's worst kept secret, but if anyone stopped and really looked, he couldn't prevent them from seeing the prison, the treatment that shaped him, remade him.
The torture he underwent. The imprisonment, the punishment.
The atrocity consuming him, to which he lost all but the last shred of himself.
And the ugly, mocking, gaping lack of explanation. The perpetually unanswered 'why.' Why they took him.
That breathed fire into the darkness of his core. It hissed and clamored for retribution.
He was free from the prison, but not of it's ghost. Records of her deeds marred his body, lingered in his mind, propelled his every swing, and ultimately, provided him with purpose. It's shadow hung close, and there was no changing this.
Even if it killed him… There would be a reckoning.
His glare lowered until Torn's handiwork filled his gaze. He regarded the bloodied fastenings bitterly.
Torn wanted an explanation?
He wouldn't want this one.
As he left the commander with only the sputtering lights of the facility for company, and all but fell upon a rickety bunk, Jak wearily wondered the same thing he'd been asking the Makers since the day of his escape; what he had become.
_._._._
Light peeked through the sliver under the door, telling Torn the morning had finally crept in on them.
The kid and the rat remained out of commission for the time being. Torn took the opportunity to continue mulling over what had been keeping him up all night.
Jak was a threat. Period. The new question was, who was he truly a threat to? He dug a new hole into the desk with his blade. Torn had naively presumed Jak to be a loose cannon, a pistol just as likely to shoot the hand wielding it as the one it was pointed at. Dangerous, but damaged. He'd pegged Jak as dangerous to both sides, assumed using him was a risk, (and a bloody big one) but it beat being on the opposite side of that relentless bloodthirst. Now, he wasn't even sure if he was on the trigger end afterall.
Because in all honesty what the hell did he, did anyone, know about Jak?
The blade twisted back and forth with enough vigor to draw up splinters.
Torn, for his part, now knew for certain he'd been held in that prison, and got fucked up real nice. Got fucked up being the Baron's personal pet project, from what he was gathering. Yeah, okay, no shit the kid wanted revenge; No fucking kidding. He was probably one of the few who really deserved it at that. Torn was long past the point of suspecting Jak of espionage. The kid's situation was way too complicated for him to be a mere rat. The Baron wouldn't have gone through such trouble with that one for a simple line on the other side.
But. Torn didn't know what they'd done to him in there either, had no idea what those scars really meant. What his escape really meant for that matter; It had never been managed before.
And that got him thinking. What if Jak only thought he'd escaped? What if he'd only been allowed to believe it? What if the truth was, that he'd only been released… but not freed?
It would be so like Praxis, Torn thought as he glimpsed the blonde's still form, to set the kid loose and observe the results, the power to drag him back with or without a fight at his fingertips. For all he knew, the bastard had already tried, he realized, thinking of the renegade's last brush with the KG. Jak had no above-ground connections, no family he knew of to protest on his behalf. And the Baron had the entire militia at his beck and call. He was seething even as the idea hit him like a clenched fist in the gut. Whatever they'd done to him, it was possible that they still had some measure of control, that Jak was a pawn they had yet to put to use.
And he didn't even know it.
Torn yanked the knife out of the woodgrain before he shredded the tabletop.
He had no wish to further investigate this. It was one of those unsettling epiphanies he would have much rather pitched back into the wind that brought it to him. But he had to look out for the Underground.
He was getting his answers.
He watched as the injured fighter met the morning with little enthusiasm, issuing soft, semi-restrained groans as he attempted to pull the agony out of his muscles- still favoring that right arm. The dark circles shadowing bleary blue eyes fell out of sight as the blonde's head bent low, situating itself between a pair of fatigued knees. Jak had never been like this.
Torn couldn't decide if this was cause for amusement or concern, so he took the apathetic road.
"The hell's wrong with you, anyway?"
The eyes flicked up to glare a moment, straining to regard Torn from under pinched brows.
"…Other than experiencing what it's like to be deep-fried?" The sarcastic reply finally ventured, fighting for its usual bite, "Nothing." He hadn't even bothered lifting his head.
Torn wasn't missing a thing after the previous night. He could discern Jak's ashen pallor, even in the dimly lit space. The blonde sighed, pulling on a stiff glove.
"M'swell."
Bull. But Torn didn't call him out on the fact that even a blind kangarat could see he was definitely not 'swell'. This was primarily due to the fact that he didn't know what was wrong with him. Jak didn't get sick. He feigned disinterest as the kid geared up in stiff, rigid movements after prodding Daxter off his tunic. The jabs were light, but insistent.
Torn casually told Jak if he as much as sneezed anywhere near him he'd skin the squirrel, causing Jak to halt his prods. He looked away before wryly assuring, "Trust me, it isn't something anyone'll be catching."
The reassurance rang oddly hollow, and Torn's skepticism spiked to full-blown suspicion.
The rat finally yawned its disagreement, but complied to the finger's demands, stretching like a cat. Then came a grumbled, "What, you two have enough of each other already?"
Neither graced this with a reply, and soon the two were exiting the base.
Torn told Jak not to come back until he grew a pair and ditched the cold. The renegade's finger delivered his response, telling Torn to piss off for him.
If this wasn't normalcy, Torn would eat his own knife.
But it wasn't. As the pair left, he picked up his comm. and gave a single order.
"Tail 'em."
._._._._
Just after dusk, they were reported in the Northeastern quarter.
"Where they headed?"
"East. Making for the water slums."
This offered him nothing of insight. But Torn had a feeling. He decided it was as good a time as ever to find out where things stood.
_._._._
"I dunno 'bout you, babe," Daxter's chattery voice was saying as the grate platform brought them to the city's surface level, "but this has been WAY too much excitement for one week. It can't be healthy for 'ya." His (very) distinctive pitch rang in Jak's ear, but it was lost in the thick slum smog that greeted them as the surface-level doors parted to let them out onto the docks. They'd just cleared out over three dozen rogue MH's that had been prowling the sewers, scaring the shit out of Krew's lackies on more than one occasion, and it was those kinds of missions that really took their toll.
They'd taken off straight from the base that morning, leaving one ornery boss to come answering to the summons of the sketchier, slimier one. And Mar, did dealing with Krew make him feel used. Those beady little eyes were always sizing him up, and Jak could never tell if it was to deem him up to the task at hand, or if it was Krew figuring what he get away with not telling him.
It made the Underground dealings seem painless in comparison. Jak could at least say he knew exactly what Torn wanted out of him each time around.
"…We are, without delay, demanding a pay-raise from the Tattooed Wonder and taking an immediate shore leave. No more Metal Heads, no suicide missions, no more Haven harassment OR hospitality- there's not really a difference if ya know what I'm sayin,'" Daxter was still rambling, "None 'a that crap. Just beach, booze, and a BOATLOAD of blondes," he proclaimed, raising a firm, fuzzy finger with each requirement, declaring that he'd settle for no less.
He knew what Daxter was probably doing. Distracting him. The full effect of the last few days was finally catching up with him. He hadn't gone Dark. Again.
And every time he refused the call, he could feel it grow stronger, more insistent. It was wearing him down.
He needed to find a place to deal with it.
He locked his jaw as a dark tremor coursed through him, crackling faintly in the air before dissipating.
Daxter got the message as the shoulder he was crouching on shuddered violently beneath him.
"S'okay, Jak. Let's head down and see the oracle. That oh-so-knowledgeable pile of Precursor parts should be able to help us out." He assured in a slightly mocking tone, slipping the last skull gem into the tightly filled pack; the gems chinked almost musically as they were jostled.
"It better for what we're bringin' it, anyway," the ottsel added, giving their winnings a light swat. Even in Sandover, Daxter had never been impressed by the old spirits, and only now did the world seem to agree with him. Nothing was sacred in Haven, it seemed.
Letting his feet guide him over the rotting wooden planks, Jak made for the heart of the slums, not sensing the suspicious pair of eyes pinned to his back.
Torn was ducked low, peering between an especially large gap between the planks of the rickety, abandoned shack he'd watched the duo enter from a safe distance. It took nearly all his concentration to move without a creak, while looking out for loose beams. It wasn't comfortable by any means. But he was done skirting around the teen's touchiness.
He'd watched in slight confusion as the blonde had come to a stop, standing before a shabby structure- hardly different from any of the other shacks around it. Before the blonde strode forward and ducked beneath a ragged and moldering cloth concealing the interior, he'd looked contemplatively up at the structure. His form lost some of that permanent tension and his shoulders relaxed an inch. He seemed calmed, almost in a mystical sense. Torn shook his head at his own trailing thoughts, but once he'd cautiously crept to his vantage spot, he undeniably felt that same, disconcerting feeling he'd experienced on many occasions with this kid. The sense that he wasn't from here. That he didn't belong in Haven.
Stay focused, he berated himself, and looked again with sharper eyes.
Jak stood in a lit room, warm with spatterings of small candles, burning low; tribute from the slummers. On the opposite wall, an ancient precusor relic, with great lit and empty eyes stared into eternity. Some believed it to have some sort of power; but Torn had never pegged Jak as the religious type. Or the reverent type. Now that he considered it, he actually hadn't pegged Jak as anything other than the blow-shit-up, get-in-my-way-and-I'll-end-you type. So this was new.
He watched as the younger man eased the pack off his shoulders and upturned it. Glowing yellow skull gems spilled onto the ground, chiming like a chorus of crystal. They were surprisingly stunning once separated from the fanged, bloodthirsty monster heads.
The air around the statue hummed with life, an ancient sort of energy filled the air. The glowing eyes seemed to brighten with intelligence and Torn tensed, he felt himself fidgeting with the need to duck further out of sight. He'd never seen an oracle awaken like this.
But that was nothing compared to what it did next.
As Jak emptied the pack full of gems, the statue began to rumble. Then to his shock, the rumbling formed words. It spoke.
"AHHH..." it's voice was deeper than anything Torn could imagine. Deeper than the sea, or the dunes of the wasteland. Deeper than time.
"...I SEE YOU HAVE RETURNED, YOUNG WARRIOR."
Apparently this had gone down before. Neither Jak nor the rat were batting an eyelash at this voice, which came from nowhere and everywhere, echoing of power and mystery. The flames danced as it spoke. Jak merely stood and waited and the rat hopped of his shoulder, muttering something about 'chopped liver'.
It seemed to accept the skull gems littering the floor as payment of some kind. An exchange was made. The thrumming power built up again, drowning the room with its energy, and a crackling violet bolt collided with Jak's chest, forcing his knees to the floorboards. As he crumpled, the voice called out in demand.
"BRING ME THE DARK ONE."
Jak convulsed, shuddering so violently Torn numbly thought he'd been fatally struck. Then more scorching violet sparks danced around his form, and Torn had to look away from the heat of it.
When it was over, something else stood in Jak's place.
Peering again through the boards, Torn's first instinct was to throw himself backward in shock. He felt his heart quicken. He couldn't remember the last time he's felt such gut-twisting panic. Constant threat of discovery had hardened him to these feelings. But the pure fear he was experiencing hadn't hit him like this in years.
He felt like a cornered rabbit as the thing stood up, still not aware of him. It hadn't turned around. Yet his heart was about ramming out of its cavity, urging him to take some sort of action, growing more frantic with every beat.
Wait.
His mind weakly strained against the overwhelming impulse to fight or flee.
He remained frozen, taut as a trigger, hoping to whatever was out there that he'd avoid its detection.
Its breaths were low growls, lapping over each other in steady waves. It more snarled than breathed. Its stance was bent, poised to launch at the nearest thing. Every savage inhalation detected scents, tastes in the air, Torn registered nauseously, judging by how dramatically the nostrils flared.
His hand gripped his gun. Every facet of this creature, the way it moved, the way it breathed, suggested one intended purpose- search and destroy. Ready to maim and devour the minute something presented itself before those black, soulless eyes. Search and destroy, search and destroy-
Torn had no idea what to do, but just the proximity of this creature sent his instincts screaming to ensure his own safety. Right then it was either shoot or radio in for help, and break out into a dead-run. But he'd been a soldier once, and that experience was the only thing keeping him from doing so. Still, every second sitting there frayed his nerves. The effort to stay put, while a living demon in the flesh panted hungrily before him- it was going to break his hold on reality.
Then he realized the rat was still inside with the thing. It was going to get eaten alive- he spotted it on the far wall, looking nothing but casually interested. Not scaling the wall in fear for its life. This brought Torn down a few notches, but it didn't make sense. Even in his current state, Torn never once considered the rat was as heroic as it led on. Which meant it was too stupid to recognize the danger in the room with it- or it wasn't in danger at all.
Slightly wary, it stayed off to the side, both curious and concerned, watching with cautious interest. It had seen this before?
Too late to wonder, he realized as a bone-white ear twitched.
The creature inhaled two short strong whiffs, sucking air powerfully into its lungs as its chest expanded. Torn's heart dropped into his stomach and he fingered the pistol trigger desperately tight as the horned head rotated slowly, controlled, and the ghastly, white leer filled his vision.
Oh, gods.
Black pitiless eyes snapped to his own, boring past to seek out the fear in them. In one impossibly long moment, the eyes narrowed, and a fanged grin emerged on its face. Torn watched, frozen, as he came to the realization that he was ended.
._._._._._._. End chapter ._._._._._.
Ladies and gentleman... Martyrs has officially updated. Holy crap.
For those of you still around- you. are. amazing.
I got so many reviews on the last chapter, it was painfully, painfully hard not to jump right in with the next chapter. But I couldn't decide how to go about it. You guys. I literally planned out about 6 different ways this chapter could plot out and still couldn't decide.. hopefully we can all move on now.
But just for those who worried: I would never abandon this fic. It is my baby. And Jak is my boy. It's what brought me into the realm of fanfiction.
What it also was, was I kind of liked it where it ended. After this, it's going to stray pretty darn far from the game-verse, and I had issues rolling along with that. So this was gonna be a sequel, but hell. We're going all the way now. God, I hope this delivers lol
Again, THANK YOU all for your support and reviews. They were so wonderful. I can't even tell you.
Darke Eco freake: Sorry this wasn't so soon, and yes, Torn's piecing things together. The plot's only getting thicker from here~ Glad to hear you're liking his perspective. :)
Koure: Thanks for 'demanding' and the reassurance ) Sorry it wasn't delivered sooner.
Daxfan: Glad you're good with the boys and their portrayals! And it will become clear, I am a fan of torn drawing his own conclusions- it lets me develop a lot more intrigue and I just don't think Jak would spill the beans at the drop of a hat. lol
LuxAeterna1020: Glad you're onboard, thanks for taking an interest! Sorry you did in fact have to wait for the rest of this.
aussie-chick-13: This chapter was largely for you. I'd written almost that exact review once before and hate the not-knowing if things will ever update again. That's the not so great side of fanfiction. :( Hope this was worth the wait, glad to hear you were a fan of the last chap. *hugs*
Anonymous: Good to hear from you again :) I'm glad Torn came across with his BAMFery intact, my biggest pet peeve is the 'pussification' of these characters. If I was guilty of it myself I might have up and quit. Thanks for sticking around!
Ottsel Instinct: Hope it was a good surprise? I try to pull something that still works, but what other authors haven't done (better) before. Hope the wait was bearable~
Faithless Reject: Really appreciate your review. I have a tendency to get darker than I want to at times, but I'm glad to hear you think it works for this story. I was afraid it would get a little to oppressive to stick with. And no worries, it may take a year and a half, but the chapters will come until this story gets finished. :)
Razzika: Haha, thank you! Glad Torn-POV excites you so. I dared to try, but was kind of afraid it'd be boring as hell. Thanks for the review :)
Stranger: I talked to you a bit before this on DA (when that happens, it's my favorite thing ever). Thank you for that brilliant, detailed, thoughtful review. I am utterly and wholly behind you on the "Jak isn't the talk for two pages worth of dialogue kind of guy." He's short to the point, was not so long ago a freaking mute- in short, mushy explanation fics are a huge NO for me. And I am milking the Jak and Torn interaction for all its worth- it might get ridiculous. so glad you're alright with that so far, although if you change your mind I won't blame you. And yes, I believe in the "write what you know" rule, so I write the game how I play it. Very cool that you recognized it. :) And last, NEVER apologise for lengthy reviews. They are an author's dream~
RANDOM HYPER PERSON: I DID THIS FOR YOU. Haha, it was going to end at "Something else was standing in Jak's place." But you've been so enthusiastic and excited, I felt awful leaving it at that. I SO HOPE I didn't disappoint with Jak's first Dark sequence- the next chapter will have a bit more to come. Thank you for sticking around, and for utilizing all those death threats! Seriously, though, you're great :) We need that.
LeiaOrganicSolo: Hey! I would like to add in here I'm a fan of a bunch of your fics! It was really cool to see you're name in here. Sorry the update took half a lifetime, but here it is~ Glad to hear you're liking it so far.
Berander: Yes, it was high-time, wasn't it? We're halfway to the 'big reveal' as of now, and 'absolute shocker' is what I'm aiming for. I'll try to deliver :)
Juubi/reyes yong Nydia: I'm glad all the characters seem in character to you :) Thanks for reviewing!
Foompuddles: First, your name makes me laugh :) Second, thank you for taking an interest, I'm glad you're liking it so far. And yes, this is what makes fanfiction great. the whole premise of this was me being uber-frustrated that Torn NEVER brings up Dark Jak. I don't think he ever sees him, but if he hears it by word or anything he never brings it up! I had to run and fix this! lol Thanks for reviewing.
M-Angel 5: Oh boy. I am not even thinking ahead that far, but I like that idea. we'll see how it plays out ;) Sorry this update doesn't qualify as 'soon' but hopefully it delivers. Thanks for reviewing!
HellzCrusader: Torn will understand, once he understands. Haha that didn't make any sense.. Basically, once Torn finally weasels the full story out of Jak, I like to think he'd understand too. I will find a way to squeeze some bromance out of this dynamic if it's the last thing I do. Thanks for reviewing :)
LizzyKeeper08: Oh my goodness, I do not mean to torture anyone, but I did leave you in suspension for quite some time. :( I'm sorry about that. Here's something to make up for it I hope, and the rest should follow accordingly. Thanks for the review!
Carree: Big Brother Torn is exactly what I'm striving for. He and Jak just have to get to the stage where they can both be assured they're on the same side lol I'm glad you like the interactions, they're my favorite things to write. :) Thanks for R&Ring!
forty-five: Sorry again, that this wasn't a very timely update, but I'm happy you're enjoying the character interaction thus far! Hopefully they'll get to develop more the farther we go. It was one of those things I really, desperately wanted to see more of in the cut scenes, but hey, fanfiction is here for a reason :) Thanks for the review!
Annabelle: Challenge accepted :D
CornRoll: Oh dear, that makes me so indescribably happy to hear, but I hope you didn't check EVERy day. That's a lot of disappointment :( I'm sorry this took so long, but here's the next stage, and the rest will come in a more timely fashion :) Thanks for the review!
Kenmasandi: Thanks you so much for such an in depth crit- there were a few things in there I didn't even notice when thinking about the chapter as a whole. Really appreiated :) *hugs* The pronoun issue I realized while writing- I had this problem with narrative consistencies, where Torn would call Daxter 'the Rat' and 'It' and I would feel guilty calling Dax that all the time and change names... agh. I'll rehash it later for clarity. And I knew something was up with Vin's line
*facepalm* thanks for catching it :) Glad to hear more people are working back into the J&D fandom, it's the first I ever got hooked on, and its good to see so many people into it after all this time. Yay nostalgia!
meeper: You are correct! Torn's sleuthing begins here. :) Hope it delivers!
