When I Grow Up Chapter 9, a jak and daxter fanfic

When I Grow Up

By Nano-Moose (previously Necralis)

Nano-Moose: Spider Man, Spider Man, does whatever a spider can…

Vader: We are back.

Nano-Moose: Spins a web, any size…

Vader: and we are ANGRY.

Nano-Moose: Catches thieves just like flies…

Vader: I mean, TWO REVIEWS!

Nano-Moose: Look out! Here comes that Spider- OUCH! (stumbles forward because Vader has swatted her on the back of the head) I mean, yeah! What he said! I pour my sweat and blood into this fic AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME!?! Well, okay, not so much sweat and blood as a kinda half-arsed effort worked on when I should be doing Maths homework…BUT STILL!

Vader: You're giving me a bad name!

Nano-Moose: Anyway, we are now very, very close to the end, but we still need another chappie after this one, and then maybe, just maybe, an epilogue…in the mean time, I suggest you read the Spiderman fic 'Falling Feels Like Flying' by one erinflanagan. No, not just suggest, recommend. No, not just recommend, DEMAND! It is utterly, utterly AWESOME! Truly! Even for me, who hasn't actually seen either of the movies and has only read the comics in the paper. It knocks me for six! I admit it! Go read it and…WAIT! WAIT! COME BACK HERE AND READ THIS FIRST OR I'LL…darn. (sits and watches glumly as most of the readers run away to read the wonder fic)

DISCLAIMER I do not own J&D or Jak II (well, I own copies of the games but that's beside the point) or any related characters, locations and plot devices, apart from the ones in this that I made up. These include Miala, her family (all of whom are dead or otherwise …incapacitated) and little old Diaz. The plot is mine. Do not steal or I will eat your brain. Or think of something equally unpleasant, possibly involving a toy Doc Ock arm I happen to know exists…

Chapter 9 (egad! It's longer than Darkened Paths!)

Clink

"How long are you going to be doing that?" Miala hissed at her cellmate.

Clink

"Until it bounces." Dully.

Clink

Clink

There were, apparently, several ways of making the time pass in the Fortress Prison. These included screaming, muttering in the dark, yelling insults at the Guard Patrols to see how long it took before they shot you, making mush sculptures with the food and annoying your cellmate.

Clink

Currently, Diaz was fully immersed in the latter pastime.

Clink

It seemed to be approaching nighttime, with some of the lights that hadn't already sputtered out beginning to fade to a marginally less harsh level of brightness. Some of the Guards seemed to be looking at turning in for the night – at least, they were getting more irritable and shouted at people more often. Miala was lounging on her bunk, amusing herself by trying to think of ways to escape without getting parts of her blown off, and also imagining various scenarios to explain what the hell it was that Jak was doing, and Diaz was curled in the corner of her mattress, engaged in picking up her little stub of a knife and dropping it over and over to see if it would bounce.

The noise was slightly more irritating than Daxter, which was quite an extraordinary achievement. At least Daxter knew he was being irritating.

Clink

Miala was finding it very hard to take. It had been a trying day, with more revelations than she thought she could stand, and since the message from her brother had been played, Diaz had withdrawn back into her dream world and was now refusing to talk. This was a problem, because Miala actually wanted to talk. Diaz seemed to know something about her brother, apart from the whole member-of-illegal-rebellion thing, and Miala wanted to find out what it was.

Clink

All she had achieved so far, though, was that infernal noise.

Clink

She couldn't stand it any more.

Clink

Clin-

"ALRIGHT! I GET THE POINT! YOU'RE BORED! I'M BORED!"

"I think someone's a little tetchy," said Diaz happily.

"I wonder why that could be?" Miala flopped back down on her bunk and stared at the rust patterns. "It couldn't possibly be because my cellmate is engaged in a stupid, and, I might add, utterly pointless experiment, with no sign of letting up any t- wait." She sat up suddenly, head tilted towards the door. "Did you hear that?"

Diaz shifted on her bunk until she was hanging perilously over the side, arms and head pointed at the floor. "No. Hear what?"

Miala could definitely hear it now – faint, rhythmic clang noises - footsteps, but no more than that of one person, so it couldn't be a Guard patrol – they did that in threes. Words drifted to her ears too – not harshly distorted and riddled with static, like the KG's voices.

"-saw this really bright light and a guy with a big head who said "Game Over", and then-"

"Are you going to close it while you still have it attached?"

Maia leapt off her bunk and swore as her bullet wound chose that moment to send a stab of pain through her head, but with a remarkable surge of energy she bounded across the cell in three steps and pressed her eyes up to the bars in the door. The was nothing to see, at first, just more green mist and several other prison doors, then a figure appeared – a strangely lop-sided silhouette, which paused at every opening to peer inside.

Either he was taking up a career in inmate observation or…

"Jak! JAK! I'm over here!" Miala stuck her arm through the bars and waved it desperately to catch his attention. The blonde man turned quickly and a look of relief she didn't want to examine too closely spread across his face. Daxter's reaction was to strike a suave pose and say "Never fear, little lady, the Dax-Man is here to-"

"Shut up, Daxter."

Jak crossed to the cell and started hunting for the lock – they could be put in some very odd places on KG doors, and sometimes didn't appear at all, but fortunately someone had had the foresight to label it in nice, big red letters. Harder to crack, however, was the lock itself, until Daxter leapt off Jak's shoulder, examined the console, and pressed an invitingly large red button placed right in the middle. With a crrrrrrrreesssssh that suggested it was too old for this kind of thing, it slid slowly open and Miala darted joyfully into open air. Jak, meanwhile, squinted suspiciously at Diaz as he threw Miala the Blaster he'd found tossed carelessly in a storage room.

"Who the hell are you?" he said bluntly.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," the woman said happily, skipping like a child.

"An inmate," Miala said hastily, noting the 'eh?' expression crossing Jak's face. "Her name's Diaz. And, speaking of which, what the hell took you so long, did you come by rubber floaty?"

Daxter grinned. "Traffic."

"You mean you got us lost."

"Yeah, but at least I knew where I was going! While…I…was…lost and…Hey!" Daxter bounded onto his customary perch and squinted dangerously at Miala. "You haven't exactly been the perfect conspirator yourself, baby, what with 'I'm going to save my brother and-'"

"Did you find him?" Jak cut across the ottsel's whining hastily, though he was grinning. "Because I had to go through three Guard patrols to get here, and I'm thinking an extra pair of hands would be kinda useful-"

Diaz stopped twirling on the spot and suddenly became very interested in the green mist, making patterns in it with her fingers.

A stab of fresh grief went through Miala's heart. It must have shown on her face, because Jak stopped grinning. "Is he okay?"

"He…died. A long time ago." The words did not seem to be her own, coming from a thousand miles away.

Even Daxter shut his mouth. Jak looked for a moment as though he didn't know how to react. Then- "I'm sorry."

"There was nothing…nothing you could have done. That we could have done." Miala looked tired. "There's no reason for us to stay here."

"Right you are, sweetheart," Diaz said suddenly, standing up straight. "Inski, outski, I believe is the term, and outski is looking like a very attractive option right now-"

"What are you in for?"

The question took Diaz by surprise, or maybe it was just the fact that she was faced with escaping after four years. In any case, it took a while for her to answer, and when it came, it was short.

"Theft."

Jak inspected her, and figured if she'd spent any sort of time in the Fortress Prison (and judging by the state of her, she had spent quite a large amount of time) then she could probably be trusted. Probably. "Hey uh…Diaz, is it? Can you shoot?"

Diaz raised an eyebrow. "Underground member, darling. I remember the days when Torn turned away anyone who couldn't break down and reassemble their chosen weapon blindfolded. So to answer your question, I can shoot just fine."

"Good." Without so much as a warning, Jak reached around, jerked Miala's old Pinger out of Daxter's paws and handed it to Diaz, whose face lit up like a Christmas tree. Daxter's mouth, in direct contrast, fell open in such a comical expression of absolute horror that Miala felt an amused snerk fight its way out of her.

"Everyone armed?" There was a nod and a murmur, as well as quite a large amount of fuss from Daxter ardently explaining that he wasn't. "Good. Let's go."

Daxter bobbed indignantly. "Hey, big guy, how come the crazy lady who we just met five seconds ago gets the gun whilst your best-and-so-recently-estranged friend who could be the best shot if not for an unfortunate natural affliction doesn't get anything to defend himself with?"

Jak thought for a long moment. He thought about the many, many reasons why this was so, recalling the incident that had gotten them spotted, tried to polish it into a convincing case. There was a pause.

"Shut up," he explained.

"Diaz," Jak hissed, as he tried to pull himself onto a familiar pile of crates one-handed, "What the hell are you doing?"

The woman in question paused in her examination of the twisted, mechanical nightmare. Jak tried not to look at it, that insane jumble of needles, buttons, lights, scanners and shackles, because to do so would cause a shudder to start at the base of his spine and work its way up to his head. Diaz, on the other hand, could not take her eyes off it. She had been inspecting it for the past five minutes.

"It's ingenious. Ingenious." She let her eyes rove over the monstrosity that sat like a crazy artist's nightmare in the center of the room. "Using crystals to concentrate the Eco, and distil it into-"

"Hey! Light-Fingers! When you're done admiring the work of your friendly neighbor-hood dictator and his lovable sidekick Erol the Loon, maybe you could help us get the hell out of here." Daxter scowled dangerously at her. Her seemingly innocent bewilderment fooled no one, and finally Diaz grinned wickedly and bounded up the crates as though she'd been born with springs on her feet. "Hoy, darlin', you coming or what?"

Miala, who had been doing something fiddly with the console next to the machine, scrambled hastily up the crates whilst slipping something into her pouch. Jak pulled himself up after them, one hand held out to steady Daxter on his shoulder, removing his fingers just in time to keep them attached to his hand.

Beta 33-29743 was not having a good day, or night, or whatever the hell time it was in this stupid post. The Prison didn't have clocks, and the only way to tell that time was passing was either through the regular radio alerts, or by watching rust collect on the ceiling.

To recap: he was not having a good time, because the armor he was wearing constricted his blood-flow and was making pins and needles gather in his feet. As well as this, he was hella thirsty, and his partner had been called away to take care of some kind of disturbance, so he couldn't even torment him to relieve his boredom. To make matters worse, it was exceedingly dull guarding a bunch of stupid computers. All they did was bleep and glow. They didn't yell at him or swear or insult him when he kicked them.

He was standing boredly in front of some unidentifiable piece of junk, his regulation poker-straight posture loosened by the many hours of dull nothing, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Thinking his partner had finally returned, he turned around to see.

What he saw was a pair of gleaming silver eyes, an upside down grin, a mass of dirty green hair and a fist.

He stared in astonishment.

"Hiya bastard," said Miala, and punched him.

The blow connected with the bridge of his nose, and even with the armor, the force of it was enough to make stars explode in front of his vision as they both swore at the same time, the girl shaking her suddenly savagely aching hand. The Guard's outraged expression was nothing compared to the maniacal grin of the girl hanging upside down in front of him, who followed the punch by swinging down, back, then forwards, driving both her booted feet into his stomach. Her momentum threw him backwards into the computer panel, the impact driving the air from his lungs and causing several things to make crick noises.

Despite the roaring in his ears, Beta 33-29743 struggled to his feet, pain flaring in his back and neck. He got precisely three steps before his fuzzy vision made out the gun barrel in front of his nose.

He had already sworn inwardly when someone yelled "Miala!", causing the girl to glance behind herself, distracted. He took the opportunity to fumble for his rifle, grabbing it and barely missing her as she leapt from the rope she had been clinging too, landed neatly in a crouch and rolled out of the way. The bullets hummed and spacked into the surrounding walls, rebounding and ricocheting dangerously around the room.

Miala dodged, leaping and ducking as best she could – until the trailing cuff on her pants caught on a knee-high piece of unidentifiable machinery. She fell heavily, her Blaster flying from her hand and clattering away into the darkness. Scrabbling wildly, Miala watched wide-eyed and helpless as the Guard advanced, gun raised and pointed directly at her heart-

When something bounced off the back of his helmet with a faint clink.

He turned around, baffled, and paid for his moment of distraction when he suddenly pitched forwards, driven by the momentum of something small and super fast that impacted with his face.

Miala stood up carefully and walked over to the Guard. There was a smoking hole in his mask. She prodded him gently with her foot, and when he didn't move, she glanced upwards and said, "Thanks."

"No problem," said Jak, lowering his gun. He then looked around suspiciously. "What happened to your friend?"

"Here," said a voice, as Diaz hopped down from the machinery Miala had been perched on, landing unsteadily and having to make several attempts to stand up. "Whoa," she said, goggling at the Guard's body. "What'd he do?"

"Got in the way," Jak said coldly.

"Just so you know, Big Guy," Daxter said loudly, "That is really, really creepy, as in Erol-standard creepy, and you really don't want to be trying to emulate that-" he fell silent as Jak gave him a venomous look.

"Anyway," Jak continued, as though restarting a conversation, "We're not far from the exit. As far as I know, this is the last pain-in-the-ass before we get there, and then I'll have to…I don't know…where do you live?" He directed this question towards Diaz, who had been admiring her nails. She shrugged.

"Helpful," Daxter commented.

"Bet it is," said Diaz, smiling.

It was only after Jak had stared for the door that Miala leaned over and said, "What are you so happy about?"

Diaz held up her knife. "I'm happy," she said, "because it bounced."

The door was there. It was small, and simple, and unobtrusive, but it triggered memories. Nighttime, and the Guards, and his second transformation. Kor, and Daxter, and the Kid. "Surrender and Die," they had said. Well, he certainly hadn't surrendered…

Clickit went, and then it was open, and he was staring out into the night.

He leapt, landing heavily but without injury on the dilapidated streets of the Slums. Miala was more cautious, clambering carefully down the side, Diaz sliding down after her.

Then they were all on the ground, staring up the stars. A fresh wind chose that moment to brush their faces, and even riddled with pollutants it was so much sweeter than the air inside the Prison. Night had fallen, some time ago, it seemed, the Second Star climbing halfway into the sky and bathing the world in its soft green glow, counterpoint to the dim bluish light of the moon.

There were voices. Voices of many hundreds, thousands of people, and the faint, high-pitched hum of hover-engines.

"Missed it," said Diaz quietly, and Jak looked at her and was surprised to see her eyes glittering over-bright. Then suddenly she was smiling – and laughing and crying and dancing, pulling Miala into a twirl that scattered the dust, her faded red hair flying out as she span.

Dancing for freedom.

Freedom so long denied.

"Glad to see Twinkle Toes is so happy," Daxter said grumpily.

Nano-Moose: Well, that's it. Next chapter WILL be the last one, or so help me, I'll just have to write it myself.

Vader: yeah, instead of making me do it…

Nano-Moose: SHUT UP! Well, the chapter was almost entirely pointless. Review anyway. Please. Pretty please. The next one'll have Torn in it. And I already have an epilogue. Heh heh. Just wait. Just you wait.