A/N: Boring classes are wonderful things, aren't they? So anyway, here is the next installment of AE (which means "Aeon of Shadow" in theory… that's as close as I could figure). I don't have anything else to say, for once. Well, other than that deviantART is evil and won't send me my confirmation e-mail, but that's about it. XD
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jak groaned to himself when the first few shots zipped over his head, smashing harmlessly into the rocks behind him, sending shards of sharp stone flying all over the place. The invisible Metal Heads were really no fun at all. Killing them involved an ungodly amount of running; his eyes started hurting after a while, and it left him having to wander around aimlessly, wide open and all but begging to be shot at so he could see where the little stinkers were. Okay, they really weren't so little.
Frowning, he got on his jet board and dropped down into the midst of the chaos on the ground, leaping over and twisting around all the monsters until he found a suitable spot from which to fire comfortably. He as immediately set upon by the small scorpion Metal Heads, which came in waves. He smiled, a twisted little smirk that swept up the side of his face. Oh, how he loved his gun.
With the flick of a button, the metal in his hands twisted and writhed like a living organism; flashes of yellow sped away to strike his chosen target even as his foot came down to smash a small Metal Head into the dirt; light blue dust floated up around his head, tickling his nose as small metal casings clattered to the foliage beside him; a shockwave of energy the color of blood erupted from the weapon to race through the air and crush all those foolish enough to have approached him to attack at close range.
After kicking the carcass of a scorpion Metal Head to ensure that it was dead, Jak wandered about the wood, shooting any others that popped up. Gradually, the normal forest sounds returned, the Metal Head bodies evaporated, and, other than the imprints of his booted feet in the soft grass, there was no sign of his passage. Tired, he moves slowly, not wanting to expend the energy to do anything other than meander.
Eventually, he was at the top of the forest, the place where Samos had held his conversation with the plants. He sat top the wood that ran across the length of the ledge, looking out over the forest that reminded him so strongly of his home. No, he was forced to remind himself, over and over again. That's not home. This is my home. Not there, here. Here, this world of cold metal and weapons that could destroy the world.
Letting himself flop back into the soft grass, Jak allowed his eyes to drift shut, weary mind and body lulled by the familiar, and very missed, sound of birds chirping merrily and the warm breeze that ruffled his clothing. The sun blanketed him in its warm light, the grass pillowed his head, more comfortable than the synthetic materials of Haven City ever could.
No one ever came here. He didn't know why, it was so very nice and peaceful. All the people of the city were too wrapped up in themselves and their chaotic lives to come out here, to come see the last remaining place of peace in an otherwise corrupted world. Pity, he mused as sleep overtook him and he fell into a deep slumber. If only Dax was here, curled up next to me, this would be perfect… almost like home…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was the same dream, he knew it instinctively. There was nothing different to set it apart, it was still just pitch black; but that in itself told him what he already feared. This time, knowing that there was nothing for him but the voice, he began to run, not wanting to spend forever trapped in the murky shadows. And perhaps if he got there, wherever there was, quickly, then he would not have so much time to think about what awaited him. Again, his footsteps fell onto the solidity of nothing, not even the slightest sound coming from the connection.
He ran and ran and ran, ran until his lungs burned from the effort. The heavy air once again weighed in on him, flooding his mouth and nostrils, waiting for him to stop fighting so that it could take him.
His foot suddenly slipped out from underneath him. He knew he was falling, knew that he had to stop himself, but his wildly grasping hands were unable to take hold of anything but the darkness that flowed through his fingers like thick honey. He fell far, way down, not stopping until he suddenly hit a cushion of darkness deeper even than before. It as strong here, down in its home, strong enough to gain enough substance to hold him suspended in its depths. But even still, there was nothing there with even the slightest bit of solidity.
The screaming was back again, just the same as before. So was the voice calling his name. Part of him wanted to heed the call, wanted to give in to its seductive voice and give himself to it. Only this time, he felt someone there, some form of life, a corrupted, twisted being that surrounded him as he looked around in a futile effort to find enough light with which to view the unseen watcher.
And then the terrifyingly delicious voice was right in his ear, inhuman breath devoid of warmth chilling his face and heart alike.
The screaming suddenly stopped.
And there was light, if it could truly be defined as such; slowly growing steadier, in the darkness of the deepest night of the normal world, it could not have been seen. But here, within the very heart of shadow itself, it provided enough illumination to see at least a few inches into the murk. A pair of dark black eyes loomed into view, glittering as they absorbed what "light" there was, triumphant as they bore into his own to drink in his soul. A hand like ice reached out to caress his face, pure coldness seeping from the being's long fingers to bite into his skin and hook itself into his bones.
The hand suddenly gripped his chin, nails digging into his flesh and breaking through his skin. "Soon," the voice promised, deadly in its intent. "Soon."
Pure terror flooded over him in waves and he struggled violently to get away from whatever it was that had him bound. He pulled and tugged at the firm hand, finally pulling away, and cowered away from the thing before him. He didn't need to see the being's face. He knew what it was.
He knew.
His wildly beating heart thumped loudly in the darkness, the only other sound besides his ragged breathing and the cruel laughter of the creature. It reached out to take him again, to wrap him in its darkness and enfold him into itself, to absorb him until there was nothing left but the echo of his screams in the halls of eternity.
He felt it there within him, creeping through his bloodstream until it reached his heart, whereupon it wormed its way down into his soul, taking everything from him. The pair of eyes moved closer, closer, the face that he had been expecting coming into view, so very, very familiar…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jak woke with a yell to find himself laying on his back, both hands grasping wildly at his heart through his clothing. He was drenched in sweat and shivering violently, face shimmering in the last rays of the afternoon sun. Slowly, Jak forced himself to relax, taut muscles slowly unwinding as he fought to ease his fears and calm the wildly erratic beating of his heart. The colors of the heavens had faded to the deep blue of night by the time he finally calmed enough to stand and begin making his way out of the forest.
He walked about the streets of Haven City, more uncomfortable than ever. The memories of the dream still stuck with him, terrified him more than anything in the world. And yet, all around him, the world was the same; people rushed about, prostitutes began to roam the streets looking for their next paycheck, exhaust pipes spat out smoke as heat was turned on in the richer buildings, zoomers ran in their normal patterns, the eternal smog still encased the city. Some people smiled at him as he went past, their eyes betraying the relief they felt at being freed from the Metal Heads. But Jak could find nothing within himself that felt like smiling back.
Disgusted that he was so afraid of a dream, a silly subconscious hallucination, he shook his head violently to clear it, resolving to focus on the most important thing of the moment: Daxter's birthday.
He stopped off at a portrait store on the way back to the Naughty Ottsel to claim the picture that he had ordered. It was a huge portrait of Daxter, who was holding a gun in his furry paws and grinning wickedly. Surrounded by a heavy frame, it was the perfect finishing touch to add to the Naughty Ottsel, and by moving a few things, Daxter could have himself stationed forever above the main room. Pleased, he left the artist a nice tip and had the elf wrap it in paper. Out to the zoomer they went, Jak feeling a bit better about things as he buckled the painting into the seat and soared through the air. He would smile tonight- if not for himself, then for his one true friend.
Daxter had certainly been correct when he said that the Naughty Ottsel would be busy that night. Jak hadn't ever seen such a mass of people all wanting to get into one place. Even with the additional room that had been added onto the club, Jak could not see how everyone was going to fit. Music thumped, echoing off of the open water and up into the dark sky as a long, long line of people waited to be admitted. Krimzon Guards stalked up and down the line, watching the people warily and making sure that no one got out of hand, pointedly fingering their guns if people looked like they were having too much fun. Even outside the club, people danced freely to the music as fireworks shot into the air. Jak was forced to park near the end of an impromptu dock that had been set up in the bay and carefully carry his precious burden over the water to the doorway.
Sig was acting as the bouncer, and Jak shifted the huge portrait so that the large man could see that it was him. "Hey there Cherry!" Sig yelled over the din, stepping aside from his position before the door to allow Jak entrance to the packed room beyond. "Chilipepper's inside… somewhere!" People in line complained loudly that Jak had bypassed the line, but silenced immediately as Sig turned to glare at them. Jak could have sworn that the man growled. Grinning, he began the task of approaching the bar, where he knew that he would find the ottsel.
The hero was quickly ready to pull out his gun and start blasting away to make people move from his path. Finally, he began brandishing the huge portrait, using the heavy frame to knock people out of his way if they did not move. Eventually, he reached his friend, who was reclining on the bar as he spoke with an array of people, recounting for the millionth time "his" defeat of Kor. But as Daxter saw Jak with the wrapped present, he jumped up excitedly.
Jak smiled and held the portrait out to the ottsel. "Happy birthday, Dax!"
The orange one quickly tore the wrapping off of the gift. "Aww, thanks buddy! Here, gimme your gun for a sec!" Still grinning, Jak complied, and the ottsel copied the painted pose to the vast amusement of all those watching. Keira was around somewhere, but at the moment, he really didn't care. Sometime during the duration of the festivities, someone slipped him a bottle of alcohol that, along with many others, proved its potency. Just as the sun came up, he and Dax finally staggered upstairs, bleary-eyed. Jak had a tough time of it, smashing into walls and tripping over invisible stairs and bumps that he could have sworn were there, which never ceased to make the totally smashed ottsel giggle in delight.
Jak collapsed on the bed, smiling drunkenly, Daxter next to him. The last thing he saw before he was out was Dax, who was grinning stupidly at him. I'm glad that you're happy, Dax, he thought.
And for one blessed night, he was not plagued by nightmares.
