Sand City

By Snare-chan

Pairings: None
Ratings: PG-13
Category(ies): General
Warning(s): Cussing, spoilers for Jak 3
Status: One-shot, complete
Summary: Daxter musing about the knock out from Haven City and the place Jak and he must now call home - Spargus.

Notes: Yeah, I cracked. I cracked like a freaking walnut under a sledgehammer and started up the Jak 3 game, even though I'm far from finishing my Jak II one. But boy, am I glad I did, because not only is this game easier to play, funnier, and all around better (though the second game is in at a close second…) I'm actually getting somewhere in it. So of course I have to write a fic based in and around it, right?

Disclaimer: I dun own Jak 3, wish I did like everyone else. They should put Jak 3 in stock, then I'd buy it all!

When we were kicked out of Haven City, I was downright pissed.

For the first time in my entire life I was absolutely speechless. What the council back there had done was beyond any words I could come up with, so my mind was having the hardest time wrapping around the mere mention of them proposing to toss us out. Worse yet, they actually did give us the boot. Well…technically they gave Jak the one-way prepaid trip to the land of sand, but doing it to my best friend might as well be sentencing me to death, too.

Don't give me that look. I knew the place was bad news from day one when I was left alone in the city without my partner in crime. If you don't know by this point how rowdy that industrialized city is then you've never lived there, in which case I recommend not trying to remedy that. You're better off not knowing that there isn't a single kind or caring soul there that gives a damn about anyone else unless the person is higher up than him or her. I know this from experience, so why had I bothered to feel all right there when obviously so much was wrong?

Comparatively speaking, some residents weren't so bad, depending on who you're talking about. Tess is a good gal, and between Torn and someone like say...Erol, I'd pick the grouchy ex-Commander any given day of the century. I might not be too fond of him considering I swear he has a height and dominance complex, but give or take, anybody is better than being left alone with that flaming has-been.

The point is though, despite those selective few who I would call close acquaintances, I really should have seen this coming. For the entire time I was walking out there in the sun with my pal Jak and the banana brain, I mentally kicked myself for ever trusting those scum buckets. At least now I know better than to give them so much credit, to believe for a second that the citizens there have some sort of compassion and gratitude towards us.

The people there will worship you and accuse you all in the same breath.

At the first sign of trouble, the whole lot of them fell into a panic and went on some sort of sick witch hunt to find someone to blame for their problems instead of, Precursors forbid, put their energy into trying to solve the issue at hand. And guess who's at the top of their hit list? Yeah, obviously it's the very same person who saved their sorry carcasses from becoming one of the three-course meals of the day for some metal heads.

So that's how we ended up out here in the middle of nowhere, tossed out high and dry to die in the wasteland. Defenseless, homeless, and without food or water for a time, it looked like we had lost it - in more ways than one. We were cast out like garbage to be picked up later by vultures. Kind of degrading if you think about it.

But then Damas and Spargus happened. Before that, even I had given up hope for a miracle. Our goose was cooked well-done and our minds were going from the sheer heat; I was just glad that if I was gonna take that eternal nap to the beyond, at least it would be at Jak's side, though having that feathered kook close behind kind of ruined the whole moment. It would take a real miracle and all of Jak's lucky mojo to save us now.

Yeah, so imagine my surprise when I woke up very much alive and not being picked apart by scavengers some time later. I certainly changed my tune about Mr. High-and-Mighty up there in the blue yonder about the nice favor he decided to grant me this one time.

The place we were thrust into, though…I can't even begin to tell you what a sight Spargus is, though anything beats lying out there in the desert. In a world with so few good things in it, this place has got to be one of the better ones - like a gem in a pile of boulders, despite the fact that it dirties my fur coat faster than a dive into the sewers.

At first you wouldn't think so, not by a long shot. In a place where everyone, and by everyone I do mean everyone, is fully loaded right down to their teeth and monster dune buggies from hell are cruising all over the place, no one would blame newcomers or outsiders for thinking them the very drop-out members of society that most claimed them to be. That arena thing of theirs probably doesn't help eliminate their barbaric image either, but when you really think about it, it's not that much different from the races back in Haven.

But it goes beyond the almost primitive lifestyle these guys go about living. Here they go by their own set of rules and regulations. United by one King, Damas, they all stand up to survive and surpass expectations. In their own way, they care for those who stand beside them, because if there's a threat to one life it's a threat to them all. The people have no choice but to rely on one another, and they do it with style.

Living in this place is like moving to a totally different planet compared to Haven City. There, power is determined by status and wealth, while the only status here is King and citizens, and wealth is shown by how much water you have in your possession. Even then, you can still get some from the few pumps out back. Up until coming here, I don't think I ever appreciated water like I do now…

And the fresh air! Nothing beats the fresh, crisp smell of sand dunes and clear skies (when sand storms aren't present, of course). On the few trips Jak and I used to take to the Haven Forest, you couldn't quite get it this clean. Here, your lungs might get filled with sand from time to time but at least you aren't losing five minutes off your lifespan every time you take a whiff in the slums.

When the only kind of air pollutant - hell, the only pollutant period - is dune buggies, I'm sure the environment appreciates it. No zoomers (thank gawd; Jak already does enough damage with them in Haven), no factories, no open sewers, no massive amounts of chain smokers or KG bots...nothing but the clothes on your back, your trusty Scatter Gun, and what the wilderness can provide for you.

As a guy, I can probably say nothing beats roughing it out Wastelander-like.

If I didn't know better I'd say I could get used to all of this. There isn't anything but doing errands for Damas and quality bonding time with my friend. The chores Kingie has us do are all things he would ask of anybody else, not just because we are the only ones good enough to haul ass, get killed, and not be missed, like back there. After having to put up with following Torn for so long, it seems so weird to be asked to do something, though I sure wouldn't say no to whatever someone is asking you to do.

Especially them ladies; they just can't take no for an answer! I wish they'd realize there's enough of the Orange Lightning to go around, because I have a feeling Jak and I aren't going anywhere for awhile.

Fin-