Chapter 4, The ruined city

Jak awoke from his unconscious state, which might have been called "sleep" had it been a little less coma-like. The reason he woke up could have been more pleasant, too.

"Jaak! The flying stuff is talking again!"

"Mgrfunkinshaddup…"

Daxter masterfully avoided the arm blindly swinging towards him, and dived back up to the burr of green-blond hair which was about to submerge beneath the blanket again. He was about to start pulling at the aforementioned hair, when the floating communicator pushed him aside and bore down over the pillow like an irritated Samos on a lecture.

It was not Samos who owned the voice shouting through the network, however.

"Jak! Outta bed with you, we've got metal heads to toast! This ain't the time for beauty naps!"

Jak poked his head out and blinked like an owl at the sun burnt, partly metallic face displayed on the static screen.

"What time is it?" he grunted.

"Tomorrow evening," Daxter chimed in, his head popping up above the bedside, "I was about to order an autopsy for ya."

Jak threw the blanket over Daxter and sat up, scratching his chin while yawning. A distinct stubble around the goatee made the scratching more interesting.

"What're they doing this time?" Jak muttered at the communicator, sleepiness lacing his voice.

He did not really feel like speaking as loud as he had to, but Daxter's noisy protests as he struggled to find his way out of the blanket forced Jak to raise his own volume.

"Sneaky little bastards have started infesting the old city ruins," Sig reported, "they've killed a lot of wild leaper lizards in the last few days."

"Sounds like newbie work to me," Jak said.

As much as he enjoyed battle, for the moment he felt like hell and wanted to sleep. He was about to swat the communicator aside and crash back on the bed when Sig started protesting.

"Think I'd call you for rookie stunts?" he snorted, "trust me, they're enough to chew. You gotta be pretty damn quick to deal with them."

"Which excludes most of you bulky misters," Daxter called as he poked his head out from the cavern of cloth.

Jak grunted something unintelligible before finally standing up.

"Okay, fine," he said, "I'm on my way."

"Knew I could count on ya. See you outside the gate."

The communicator's screen went black, and the whole thing sunk to the floor, shrinking like a pricked balloon until it was small enough to fit in a pocket.

Yawning, Jak sluggishly walked towards the door, grabbing his shirt from the chair he had thrown it on last night. He had not even bothered to take off more than that and his boots before going to bed. Well, that and his armor of course.

"I'm taking a shower, Dax," he muttered while pulling the shirt over his head.

"Sure, take your time!" the ottsel said and waved at his friend's back.

As soon as the door closed, the little one began walking in circles, muttering about never getting a moment's rest. Oh well, fate of the hero and all that. At least the reward had been worth all the trouble, last time. With a loving smile he patted the leg of his new pants.

'-'

"They need to speed these things up! Or at least have a movie to watch! There's enough empty space for a movie player, right? Yeah, exactly! Would it hurt so much to make these benches a little more comfortable, too? I mean, the Baron hasn't been in charge for ages, and I really thought Ashelin knew soft stuff, if you get my drift. But nooo, they leave us with these cold, hard blocks of metal to sit on. And also, don't you think that there could at least be a window that's possible to look out through…"

The driver of the air train was very grateful for the ability to close off the window to the passenger room. He squinted his eyes at the approaching desert island ahead, silently wondering how in all flaming hells the blonde man in the back could remain sane with that blabbering moron of an ottsel around him all the time.

Currently, the answer was quite simple.

"… or a game to play, or something to read! Not that I ever could finish a book, but a comic book! Or some music! Really, how can the driver stand this boredom? I bet they've got loads of fun in the driver's cabin… man, I miss Tess. She was in tears when I took off tonight, I tell you … hey! Are you listening?"

Jak did not reply, sitting hunched forwards with his arms resting on the morph gun in his lap.

"Jak?"

Daxter strutted closer on the bench and leaned in to check on his friend's face. Jak's eyes were closed, and now that he finally shut up for a moment, Daxter heard the low snores.

"Oho, that's really sensitive, man," Daxter said, pulling back and sourly crossing his arms, "so I bore you, is that it? You fall asleep as soon as I start talking?"

But even the ottsel had to pause and think about the last sentence a bit, because if that rule applied then Jak definitely would be sleeping a whole lot more. And at very crucial moments, too.

"Anyway!" Daxter started again as he had nudged his brain for a little while, "Sig's gonna kill you if he finds you sleeping on the job. Don't count on me protecting you from him!"

He clambered onto Jak's shoulder and began pushing at the hanging head.

"Mmf… we're not there yet…" Jak muttered, unmoving.

"No, but you better seem a little more alert then. Sheez!"

Daxter leant against Jak's hair, gesticulating his left arm around as he continued to rant.

"Haven't I taught you anything about making a good impression? You've got to make sure they know where they've got you, like I do, otherwise you get no respect. You know, walk straight, look 'em in the eye and…"

But Jak had already fallen asleep again.

About an hour later when they finally landed outside of Spargus, Jak marched out of the air train cab fully awake with the morph gun resting on one shoulder, and an annoyed ottsel on the other. Sig watched them come towards him, casually leaning against the frame of the Gila Stomper with his Peace Keeper by his side.

While the giant did look perfectly calm, he was feeling quite uneasy – which was an unfamiliar and not too pleasant experience for him. Despite this he was determined to go through with the task given to him.

Give the kid some time to chill out, don't drop everything on him at once. If he still needed to cope with his father's death, then he would be given a chance to do so. A little fighting that had nothing to do with the fate of the world should be a good start. It would serve as a nice warm-up for what laid ahead.

The uneasy feeling gave way for a grin.

Oh yes, Keira did not even know half of it, but if what the wastelanders had in mind did not cheer Jak up, then nothing would.

Sig mentally shook his head and focused on the approaching couple.

"Hey there, heavy dozer," he said and gave a small wave of his hand, just enough to be seen in the lights from the city.

Jak waved back in a similar manner. At that moment Daxter decided to hop off and skittle over the last few yards of sand. He leapt into the waiting vehicle and sat down in the back, resolutely crossing his arms.

"I'm not talking to Jak!" he announced for anybody who had the misfortune to listen.

Sig studied him for a second, processing this bit of strange information.

"Great," he finally said, "don't talk to me either."

He turned to Jak, just as the much shorter elf stopped beside the driver's seat side of the Stomper.

"I take it you're driving?" Sig said, grinning.

Jak lifted the morph gun from his shoulder and heaved it into the back of the vehicle, barely missing Daxter. He was feeling much, much better after getting a little more sleep. The cool air of the wasteland night washed away the last specks of exhaust and energized him.

"Let's rock," he said and hopped in behind the wheel.

"You said it!"

"Just don't fall asleep while you're steering!" Daxter piped up.

Sig tried to drop the Peace Maker on him.

'-'

It was a rather disappointing trip to the ruins, really. After weeks in the desert Jak could have gone there with his eyes closed, the wind remained only irritating at worst and there were no marauders in sight. After a while, the lack of attackers made Jak curious enough to ask Sig if they had all been blown away in the last storm.

The giant shrugged.

"We haven't seen any of them since that space-spider stomped all over the place," he said, "guess they're busy washing their underwear."

"Wimps!" Daxter cheered from the back.

Jak smirked, while Sig threw a disdainful glance over his shoulder at the ottsel.

"What's that look supposed to mean, huh?" Daxter demanded.

Sig did not even bother to answer that, and turned his head forwards again.

As he drove, Jak caught himself scanning the ground they passed. The pale moonlight and the Stomper's headlights frequently slid across dark stains in the sand and on partly dissolved rocks; marks from Erol's journey across the wasteland. The storms had yet to bury the wounds of the ground. The footprints on the mountainsides would probably remain for years to come. Not to mention the rubble of dark maker metal littering the area about a kilometer from Spargus' walls. That would probably be cleaned up as soon as Seem and his band of monks got around to do so, however. Always something.

Jak pursed his mouth and fixed his eyes on the area ahead of them, trying to avoid the thought that the ground could be lucky to not have as many scars as he did. If he allowed himself to think such things he was just begging for far darker thoughts to resurface.

Soon the hulking remains of the ruined city came into view, and Jak drove up to the mountain range on the western side of the ruins. He parked the Stomper where it should be safe from at least the worst wind, and turned off the engine. Darkness fell like a wet cloth – except that it was not moist and weighed nothing. When the lights of the vehicle died, the men's vision plummeted. A low fizzling sound was heard as Sig adjusted the infrared night vision of his goggle, but he still remained still and waited for Jak's eyes to adjust.

Daxter blindly – with irritated mutters and a lot of stumbling – climbed onto Jak's shoulder.

"Uhm, so…" the ottsel whispered as he had found his way to his goal, "are you going to tell us about what we're up against?"

Sig reached to the back of the Stomper and grabbed what laid there. By then Jak had recovered enough to take the offered morph gun from his friend's hands.

"Why spoil the surprise?" the giant asked, smirking while he changed the setting on his weapon to a quicker rate of fire than the one he usually preferred.

Jak's teeth reflected a tiny beam of moonlight as he grinned.

"Nooo…" Daxter groaned and tried to crawl into his partner's hair.

"Gimme a little credit, Daxter!" Sig snorted, "I wouldn't send you two into something without a warning if I didn't think Jak could handle it."

He leant in a little closer and muttered in a conspirator's tone:

"Watch it, they're quick buggers."

"Eek!" Daxter eeped.

Jak simply set the morph gun to arc weilder. If they were quick to get up to him, they would get a surprise. Of course, he would be seen like a beacon in the dark, but metal heads tended to find their way to him regardless of his weapon of choice. Therefore it really did not matter.

His sight had grown accustomed to the darkness, at least enough for him to be satisfied. Every fiber in his body was itching to get onto the battlefield.

"Let's go," he said and stepped out of the Stomper.

"I'll go that way," Sig said, pointing northwards.

He paused for a moment, then added:

"Most skull gems wins?"

It really was no question.

"You're on," Jak said with a wider grin.

The sand whispered dryly beneath the men's feet as they took off towards the ruins.

Jak slowed down as he came closer to the first wall, and instead sneaked up to it as silently as he could. Holding his gun ready, he stopped and strained his ears. Daxter held his breath.

Nothing. Only the wind blowing through the hollow windows and moving the sand around.

"Ready?" Jak whispered.

Daxter's only reply was a loud gulp. Despite the lack of verbal reply, the "not talking to Jak" deal was officially off, and neither of them even thought about it.

Cautiously Jak slipped around the wall and followed the next one around the corner, keeping his senses open for any kind of threat. A metal head with a skull gem could easily be seen in the dark, but he knew from experience that not all of them were equipped with that feature.

He also had two options on this. He could do it the hard way and sneak around until he found something, or he could activate his eco powers and let them find him. But he was not rash enough to do something like that before he knew what kind of metal heads he were up against, especially since these were tampered by life in the wasteland.

Damas would be pleased to hear tha- oh no, don't go there.

"Do you hear that?" Daxter whispered, distracting Jak from a slam of bad thoughts.

'Thanks, pal.'

Jak narrowed his eyes and strained his ears further. Just the wind… no… there was a hissing sound, mingling with the wind until they were almost impossible to tell apart. His lips drew back in a small grin.

'Come and get me, if you dare.'

Skittering of thousands of feet across the sand, a hissing whirlwind of tiny noises, and a dry smack against the hard grains. Jak spun around and fired, sending a blast of pure blue energy upwards.

Shriek, thump.

The shining skull gem fell out of its socket and slid across the sand as the body fell apart in blobs of dark eco.

"One," Jak muttered.

"Uhm, Jak buddy?" Daxter whispered, urgently.

"Yeah, I hear them."

From all directions came the hissing sound, and it sounded a lot more angry now. They were coming, fast.

No use holding back, then.

Jak quickly set the morph gun to rest mod and with a low whirring the weapon pocketed itself down to a very basic form, taking up a lot less space.

"Hang on," Jak said as he hung the gun on his back.

If Daxter replied, his friend did not hear it. Skull gems glowed in the night, flitting back and forth in a wild fury as their owners dashed through the night towards the antagonist. He was already transforming.

It used to frighten him, and even now when he could control it, letting the dark eco free within him would never be a pleasant experience. Fangs cut his gum while the claws sliced through the skin of his fingers, hungry for the tough flesh of the metal heads. That were the least unpleasant things.

His skin tingled momentarily – eugh get it over with, hurry! – the last warning of Jak's body before every pore on his skin opened and impure eco oozed out, covering every inch of him in a thin layer of oily darkness.

The skull gems came ever closer, but they seemed to be slowing down by the second. Jak clutched his head, the eco seeping into his skin while his mind clogged up.

Kill.

So simple.

They move. Slash. Screech. No move.

Floating eco. So sweet. Delicious. Like blood.

Their blood.

Pain! Arm! DIE!

Screech. Scream. So sweet.

Gunfire. Who? Sig… who? No matter.

Kill. Slice. Bite. Their blood. My blood. So sweet.

So sweet. Come. More blood. Scream more. Die more!

COME!

About an hour later, Sig found the man and the ottsel with the help of the skull gems' glow. Daxter busied himself with throwing all the gems in a pile, while Jak sat with his back against a worn down wall. He was partly illuminated by the weak glow of the gems, but shadows veiled his eyes.

"I count fifty-seven!" Daxter cheerfully called as he noticed the approaching giant.

"I got forty-three," Sig said, "but, I found their nest and blasted the eggs."

"That still won't earn you skull points!"

Sig gave an indifferent shrug, forgetting that he could not be seen that well in the dusk. He turned to the other one in the duo.

"Jak? You okay?"

"Mmf."

The blonde straightened up and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"Jus' used too m'ch eco. Gives m'a headache."

Sig came closer and hunched down in front of his friend. That was when he noted the dark stain on Jak's left upper arm. While there were spots of metal head blood, those were a lot lighter even in the poor illumination. Seemed like something had gotten its teeth above his protective gear.

"What about that?" the bigger man asked and pointed.

"Healed it. Just blood."

Jak reached for the stain and brushed it off, cakes of dried blood raining down in the sand. It did seem that there was nothing left beneath it which could gush out more of the red fluid.

For a moment, Sig silently watched the smaller man before him. He wished that he could have blamed the reduced speaking on the headache the blonde had mentioned, but even then it seemed like Jak spoke a lot less than usual. Even by his normal standards. And Sig, already told that things were not that good, only saw proof.

He stood up.

"Seems like we're done here," he declared, "let's go back home then. I'll drive."

"Mmf."

Jak got to his feet, and Daxter immediately scurried over and up onto the waiting shoulder.