Guardian-ad-litem

By Snare-chan

Pairings: None
Ratings: PG-13
Category(ies): General/slight AU
Warning(s): Cussing
Status: Continuation, 1/5
Summery: When we'd first joined the Underground things were simple – ask for your orders, go out and shoot things, then come back and do it all over again. But this one?

Notes: Wow, I'm only at 49 percent in the game and I'm already writing fanfiction for Jak II. Scribble this down on your calendars folks, because something like this happens only once every ten lifetimes, so you're witnessing a miracle in the works! Aren't you all so special?

Honestly, I'm a bit nervous about my first Jak-world-related fic thingy because uh, ya know, it's my first one. I'm going to cover up all misconceptions, mistakes, and possible likeliness to the Jak fics found around the Internet as me attempting to get a good grasp of writing the characters and the place in which they reside. I'm good, ne?

Disclaimer: I don't own Jak II; wish I did like everybody else. They should put Jak II in stock, then I'd buy it all!

Dedication: To my coolest, bestest guy friend ever. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as I have with my Jak II game, which means this story would suck even more than it might already because I'd know Jak shit about what's going on. ;D

Ever have one of those days where the world went and threw you a whole slew of nothing but lemons? Oh sure, you could eat them, sell them, or throw them back. Harder. But in the end, you're still left with far too many to know what to do with, much less how to get rid of them all? Yeah, it's been one of those days, and the lemons keep on falling from the tree to land in piles on the grass to rot, if you know what I mean.

The name's Daxter, but you ladies can call me Dax. I may not look like it, but my couple-feet tall self fights crime like nobody's business. Over time I've learned that the whole battling-for-the-greater-good thing does shitty stuff to your karma, so my day started off like any other. Woke up to a face-full of Torn goodness, went for a happy little romp with some playful metal heads, fixed a few things that some idiot or two had broken out of the kindness of my sidekick's and my own hearts, and let us not forget about our daily routine of appearing before our adoring fans – the generous public of Haven City and the all-around famous Krimzon Guard.

Not only that, but if you think the fun ends there then, woo-hoo, aren't you in for a real treat! My partner and I have had some lovely rinse-and-repeat action going on here, and we're currently wrapped up in the endless cycle that is our routine right now. I know, the good times never seem to stop rolling with me.

By the way, if you haven't caught on to the dripping sarcasm that has fallen from my lips and begun burning through the dirt like acid, then might I suggest a hearing test at your local medic's office? It's just advice from little old me here, but if I was you, I'd head to the nearest one ASAP.

Now that you're all lost and curious about why I'm feeling so cynical today, let me fill you in on what's up. We could backtrack a little to when the head honcho Torn thought it would be a great idea to send us out on another suicide mission, or to us 'borrowing' a zoomer and running into a couple hundred guards because someone-who-shall-not-be-mentioned thought it would be wonderful to speed through the streets again, or even so far back as to when we'd first arrived at the Pumping Station to handle a 'small' disturbance in the area. But no, there's no need to have random flashbacks to all those insignificant times, because there's nothing like the present.

At this current point in my life, nothing but the norm is bothering me, just another attack by metal heads, which of course later sends my friend and I into a dire situation most likely to spell our absolute doom. No real shocker there since we've done this sort of thing before, but it does tend to get old real fast. Especially when we've unknowingly set ourselves up for it.

"You know Jak, when we're low on ammo it usually means a refill is a good thing before – not after, not in the middle, not even sideways of next Tuesday, but before – you decide to go all out on another fine assignment for the Tattooed Wonder," I point out helpfully to my human friend, the blonde guy who's fighting the brunt of the rabid animals.

Please don't get too attached to him yet, ladies. My partner here might look all macho with his big guns, well-shaven goatee, and a style that the Baron of Haven City couldn't touch with a six-foot pole (all of which I provided him, by the way. But does anyone care that I know steel blue is the new dodger blue and can tell Yacow wool from the cheap stuff? Noooo…), but I'm definitely the better deal. Despite my orange and fuzzy appearance, I'm the real pants-wearer in this dynamic duo…even though I have no real need for pants anymore.

Returning to the existing situation, it would seem that despite the fact that I was on the other's shoulder arm-plate, and thus consequently right next to his big pointy ear, I was being ignored. It takes real talent to brush me off, let me tell you, but there's a reason for that…I hate being ignored no matter the circumstance, and I love going that extra mile to get attention.

"Would this be a bad time to mention that I told you so?"

Jak's left eyebrow looked like it just gave a nasty twitch, signaling that he was indeed paying attention to me. This new information, of course, only encouraged me on, though to be honest I probably would have continued talking anyway. I just have a lot to share, is all.

"Because I did, you know. As we were driving along I specifically asked you, as we were passing the shooting range, in fact, if you needed to reload your weapons. But no, you just kept on going saying 'Dax, this will be sooo simple! I'm so special I only need fifty clips in the Power Blaster, five in the Scatter Gun, and my bare-fucking-hands!' But oh no, don't mind my observations."

At the other's exasperated sigh, I brought out the charm and plastered on my most innocent ottsel smile, managing to even add a hint of a sparkle to it for effect. By the time there was a break in attacks and he'd turned his head around to plaster me with a glare, he was sure to be too stunned by my sweet looks to reply.

"This isn't exactly the best time to be discussing that, Dax."

Ok, so maybe my allure is limited to the big-breasted and beautiful type. To me this can be considered a good thing, though.

"Whatever do you mean, buddy old pal?"

Before he could answer, Jak conveniently got distracted by a new group of metal heads that was trying to play peek-a-boo but only ended up playing dead as he unloaded some lovely bits of lead into various parts of their bodies. It probably would have been nice to give them a head's up that my pal here doesn't like to play games. As he unloaded the last of it his weapon gave a few hollow clicks to signal that it was running on empty and needed some el ammo. Cursing under his breath, he tucked it away, deciding that now would be a good time to flee. My kind of plan, really.

"And while we're on the subject, might I remind you that when Torn said there was a tiny disturbance that he wanted you to patrol around for I don't think he meant have fun and poke the metal heads while you're at it!"

Out of the corner of his eye he gave me another glare as he managed to avoid some more happy-go-lucky monsters coming our way. Thankfully, I've grown immune to most death glares, angry stares, and haughty glances, so I didn't keel over and off his shoulder. To prove this, I even offered him another grin for his efforts.

Hanging on a little tighter as he jumped down from our perch on the front of the Pumping Station, lo and behold, more sharp-fanged, blood-sucking lurkers on crack decided to show up to block our path. Even though we were outnumbered about five to two they were dealt with using great poise and with exceptional ease because you have to remember, this is Jak and me you're talking about! Back there I might have sounded like I doubted Jak's abilities, but truth be told, I certainly wouldn't want to get in his way, even if he was barehanded and there was a fifty-foot-thick steel wall between us.

And hey, I didn't even need my buddy here to use his gun like a club! If killing metal heads like he just did doesn't spell out anything to you then I wouldn't recommend pissing the guy off to find out what I mean.

So after letting the dude go have his fun with the beasts, it was all clear and a cakewalk to the entrance back to the city, though I'm sure our work here was hardly done. Still, I was about to let loose a barrage of catchy victory slogans and my party dance moves for another job well survived when, wouldn't you know it, something else had to show its ugly face, and I hadn't even spoken too soon yet! The nerve.

Actually, how we didn't notice this sucker is beyond me. I mean this thing has to be the biggest, most disgusting thing I've ever seen in my entire life – and no, for the record, I am not talking about Krew eating his second breakfast or accidentally catching old Samos in the shower. Not that I'd really know any of this from experience or anything.

The metal head, or at least it appeared to be one, sprang up from the water and skidded out in front of us. If I'd thought the ones from before were smoking something, then this must be either the other metal heads' supplier of dope or their Queen, because it's about as big as it is ugly. Which is saying a lot since the creature couldn't possibly get more ugly even if you whacked it with the mother of all ugly sticks. Oh, and it resembled one of those lurker crabs from way back at Sentinal Beach with pinchers large enough to snap Jak in half and crush me into powdery ottsel bits.

Lovely.

It was my turn to glare at Jak, because most likely, in some way, this was entirely his fault. Earlier today or sometime in the recent past he must have said or done something to turn the cosmos against us and decide to change from our favor to that of the metal heads just to spite us for ever doubting that we would get a break. That or it was just bad luck, but it's easier to blame a breathing entity than something that you can't hurt.

Besides that, there wasn't much else either of us could do but try and avoid its pinching claws as Mrs. Snappy decided to be her crabby self and take it out on us now that she had noticed our presence.

"Well, I think we found the disturbance, Jak."

Rolling to the side to avoid being mauled mercilessly by the mallet-like limbs it was sporting, we kind of got lost in all the dirt and sand we kicked up in the process. Ya know, that's what I really hate about sand. The stuff is so… sandy, and it gets everywhere. Like in your eyes, up your nose, down your clothes, or in my case stuck to your fur. It's almost as bad as just getting drenched, minus the nasty smell of wet dog I normally sport after coming out of a pool of something or other.

…

Man, I really need to stop getting off track like that. A bad habit from when I was a kid that has proceeded to only get worse with my quick ottsel mind. You see, an animal's instinct is to think swiftly before you forget whatever it was you were trying to think about.

Then there's the whole coming-back-to-reality thing where you either A: come back to it just in time to see that you're about to die for zoning out at the most inopportune time or B: time hasn't moved at all since you stepped back into the recesses of your mind. Life or death situations like this fight tend to do that freeze-frame thing.

This time around it was fortunately the latter, because I came back to the sight of Jak coming out of his roll from before to crouch several feet away from the area we'd just been in. The ground he had been standing on moments ago was nothing more than an empty hole now, the void space resembling something along the lines of an e-bomb having gone off in its place. Ouch.

"I'm just going out on a limb here buddy…but it might be a good idea to be heading towards the gate right about now, which happens to be in the opposite direction that you're going in!"

One of these days that boy is going to regret ignoring me, hopefully when I'm not around to see it. Right now the metal head was intent on turning both of us into some fine pancakes for its breakfast. Add to the equation that Jak was ammo-less and has no control over his dark alter ego and thus has no defense against the monster presented to us, running like ninnies towards the door to Haven City (emphasis on the HAVEN, thank you) didn't seem like such a bad alternative.

But no, he wanted to go right back into the fray like the stupid hero he is. Even though I really detested the idea, I still backed him up, the niggling voice known as my conscience reminding me that I am, after all, his best friend and shouldn't hinder his actions, no matter how utterly stupid they may seem. Of all the things that had to stick around after my transformation, why did it have to be a Jiminy Cricket?

"Jak, are you insane! Well, even more insane than usual? Don't be afraid of going back to Haven City, it's your friend, really!"

Ok, so maybe I wasn't very good at the supporting thing. The way I see it is if I'm really his best friend then I should talk him out of running head-first into a death trap instead of agreeing with his methods of fighting a losing battle. Be a friend, kiddies: prevent your best bud from fighting metal heads today! And always wear your seatbelt.

"I've got an idea."

The first words out of his mouth at my comment, and perhaps his famous last words, were those? Usually when the guy has a plan it involves three things: namely pain, more pain, and even more pain. Just something I can always look forward to.

Without further ado he was scrambling up the nearest tree, all those times we'd done so as little kids seeming to come in handy. Though why he'd want to eat a coconut at a time like this is beyond me. It's either that or he was going to go ape-man and throw them into the crab's mouth to choke it to death. I wouldn't be laughing if I were you; stranger things have been known to happen around him. I could give you a long list of all of them, but if I told you I'd have to kill you. Your government appreciates your understanding.

By the time we'd reached the very top of the plant, it was already beginning to sway under the new weight, which is pretty freaky since Jak isn't exactly a heavyweight or anything. Oh sure, he's got the six-pack abs and biceps that could crush beer cans, but it doesn't exactly add up to the benchmark. All that was needed to push the tree over the edge, quite literally, was one curt snip from the crab's massive claw, and down we went.

And we landed right on top of it.

At first the added weight that came crashing down on its back didn't seem to affect it, but after a moment, the metal head's body gave a weak shudder. With a disgruntled bout of startled clicking sounds, the crustacean was suddenly down for the count, its big bulk collapsing to the ground faster than you could say 'holy Precursors on a stick'! For effect, its spindly legs even twitched a little as death spasms overtook them, though just to be sure I poked it in the eye a little with a nearby twig.

Satisfied when it didn't rear up again and try to eat me, I turned back to grin at my partner. "See, I told you this mission would be easy!"

If there's one thing I've grown accustomed to after a mission it has to be the inevitable drive back to Underground, which is always an experience for me, to say the least. By that I mean it's like being sent downstream on a runaway speedboat filled up with blue eco as fuel. Of course that's only when Jak is in a good mood.

I don't think I'll ever understand where this mad drive of his to speed comes from. Being a part of the male sex I can accept, to a point, why he likes going around at speeds a mother would faint at. The wind in your hair (or fur), the feel of doing something dangerous and exciting… it's all about getting the thrill of your life because hey, you only live once! Here lies the key: I'm looking for thrills, not kills, and there is a major difference.

Just looking at him, you can tell Jak hasn't been anywhere near something that resembles a vehicle for two years. It's obvious enough to me by how he moves around on one that he was never taught how to really use one, not that there's a 'zoomer 101' or anything in the prisons under the palace. Also, back in Sandover it wasn't nearly as densely populated as it is here, so moving along at top-notch speeds was never a problem back home.

At first it was really creepy how the guy chauffeured me around; all that traumatizing action from his first time back on a zoomer might have had to do with all the accidents we'd had. If there's one thing I can tell you about my chum here, it's that he may make mistakes, but he learns from them quickly. After all the practice he's had with running about town doing deliveries, drop offs, escapes, transporting, and numerous other things, I'm proud to say that Jak is now just another road-raging, speeding, impatient teen with a high-speed transport.

Actually, he blends in so well lately that no one notices us much. My theory for that is that the residents of Haven City are just as bad, if not horribly worse, as he is at times. Whether this is a good thing or not, I've yet to figure out. On the plus side, the only time anyone ever cares if we exist is if we sneeze at a Krimzon Guard funny, but on the other hand, if I'm not paying attention to the front of the road no one else is.

"Double-seater, two 'o' clock."

Without even looking up as I spoke, his body readjusted to guide the zoomer into a sharp turn while he drove it slightly into the lower zone to avoid clipping the passing driver at the last minute - all while still going at crazy-as-all-hell mph.

So maybe I lied; he is a one-of-a-kind weird ass driver. I've learned that it works to tell myself over and over again that the quicker he goes, the sooner we'll be off the streets and to the hideout…with Torn.

On second thought, maybe Jak should learn that the accelerator isn't meant to be planted down like that.

Once these thoughts cross my mind, the sight of the dead-end alleyway where the door to the Underground is comes into our sights, time having probably sped up while I was holding on for dear life and repeating the mantra from before.

Not even bothering to park our ride (mostly because it's not ours to begin with and/or will most likely be stolen later), we hop off to wait for the automatic rock passageway to acknowledge our presence and reveal itself. Immediately a gust of lukewarm air rushes up at us as the 'door' lifts up and out of our way, the sensation causing the fur on my back to stand up on end.

As we make our way down the dinky stairwell, that's not the only thing to greet us, either. You know Torn, the guy I keep mentioning? Yes, well, here's your chance to meet him, in the tanned flesh.

The guy is exactly where we left him several hours ago, standing over the love of his life, the battle table covered with maps and other assorted sheets of jumbled paper. He might look all cool, collected, and like a good family man standing all stern and shit in his little corner, but I'm here to tell you the guy didn't get into the Krimzon Guard (yes, I do mean that cattle prod carrying red armored kind that chase us on a daily basis) due to being Mr. Congeniality. He'd rather stab you in the back than give you a decent hello.

"Greetings and salutations from the-"

"What took you two?" he practically snarls, though whether it's at Jak and me or his beloved table I can't tell, considering he didn't look up when he spoke. He does love that table a lot, so it was probably directed towards us.

"Gosh Torn, had I known you'd missed us so much we could have hurried along a little for you."

Ignoring me entirely, he continued on. "Did you guys deal with the intrusion out by the Pumping Station?"

Next to me Jak's head nodded once. "Yeah, we-"

"Ran into enough metal heads to clog Krew's arteries! They even introduced us to their mom, a sweet lady, though a little crabby. I think she was experiencing menopause."

"And-"

"We took it out kick-butt style! Well, we kind of somewhat sort of had to use a tree to do it, but I'm sure we can explain to the environmentalists that its death was for a worthy cause."

"Do you ever shu-"

"Torn baby, I'm like the eco bunny. I keep going and going and going-"

"So I've notice-"

"And going and going and going and going and go-"

"Jak, shut up your damned pet alrea-"

"And going and go-mmph!"

For a moment, Jak gently held my mouth shut with his hand, just long enough to make his point. I guess our big happy family couldn't handle the fact I can read minds and finish their sentences before they are done saying them aloud. Hah!

"Wow, you did it without killing him. I commend you."

Jak spared me from having to comment by speaking up before I had the chance. "Any more missions for us?"

The 180-degree attitude change Torn had was scary. What really got me was the cruel grin of his that spoke enough volumes to send my cute, fluffy little ears tightly back against my skull as his lips seemed to curl in that menacing way only he can do. The last time he'd had that look on his face…well, I'd rather not have to talk about it, but let's just say it had been bad. Really bad.

"It's a good thing you asked Jak, because it so happens that I do."

"As if us not asking about it would have stopped you," I muttered, crossing my arms across my chest. If he heard me or not Mr. Dreadlocks didn't respond either way. Instead, he turned around and, dare I even say it, gently picked something up. At once, warning bells and red lights were going off in my head, my eyes narrowing suspiciously at him as he leisurely made his way over to us with the bundle in his arms.

It would seem Jak was just as unsure about whatever it was he had as I was, his arms opening up to gingerly take it from him as carefully as he possibly could. For all we knew, it could very well have been some swaddled explosive and go off with the slightest hitch.

Then it moved.

Eyes now an inch or two wider than normal, we nervously exchanged glances before looking down at the small mass in Jak's arms, then over to Torn. He still wore that smug sort of look from before and that suspicious feeling snuck back into my tiny gut. Torn was definitely up to something, and I'm sure I wasn't going to like it.

Me being the braver (or stupider, whichever you prefer) of the two of us, I chose to slide down my buddy's arm slightly, a paw gingerly reaching out to grasp the edge of the sheet and pull it back to reveal…a pair of the most sickly adorable doe-brown eyes you could just coo over, then onward to a face that could only belong to a couple-months-old baby. I, of course, took this all in stride, however shocked I was.

"Oooooh no. No no no…no way man, you can't be serious!" I managed to get out as I jumped back onto my friend's shoulder in one bound, pointing an accusing finger in Torn's direction for emphasis. "What do we look like to you, babysitters!"

If it were at all possible, that sick little smirk on the Tattooed Wonder's face grew wider at my plain distress.

"Randilyn here has to be taken care of and delivered to the water slums tomorrow at twenty-two hundred hours, that's ten sharp if you didn't know, to be delivered to her legal guardian completely unharmed. You think you can handle all that?"

Blondie here, who hadn't spoken a word from the moment he realized that we were assigned to be watching over a kid and not going to go off and shoot things, appeared to still be in shock, so it was up to me to handle this. Good thing I'm a professional at these types of things.

"Now hold up, pal, what do you mean we have to take care of this kid for one whole frickin' day? I thought the Underground was about saving the city, not a children's daycare center!" I couldn't help but snap. It was just a wee bit irritating how this guy seemed to just go out of his way to make people's lives unbearable, especially when one of those lives is mine.

My words struck a nerve, the other's smirk twitching slightly. Score one for the little guy. Unfortunately, that little victory of mine came at a cost, because the only warning we got before the whole dam broke loose was a soft sniffle from Jak's arms. A long string of wails, displaying the kid's utter despair, positively had all our ears drooping some.

Me and my big mouth…

"Well, good luck, you two." To Torn, that seemed to be the end of the discussion, his body turning back towards his desk before he appeared to think differently of it, his eyes trailing to glance at us over his shoulder. "You're going to need it."

If this was life throwing me another one of those lemons, I'd like it to be known that I want to squirt some of it in Torn's eye.

To Be Continued…

A/N: Hee, I've always loved the cinema scenes concerning Torn assigning missions to Jak and Daxter, each seeming to be funnier than the last. I'm not sure how to word it, but it's like each has a funny theme to it and I hope I did at least a slightly good job at living up to them.

I'm pretty proud of how I wrote Daxter in this (though it looks suspiciously like how a lot of others write him…damn), my ability to beat down my primal urges to type sophisticated sounding characters and detailed plots instead written in a more relaxed style. Still, I feel like I rambled and went on mini tangents when my intent was to have Dax sound quick witted and thinking at a squirrels pace. I just hope you didn't accidentally step in the OOC when it was left on the floor …