(walks out, humming under his breath)
Hi everyone, don't mind my half-arsed attempt at the art of music, spent a good portion of this chapter listening to Linkin Park's "In The End", and now it's stuck in my head. The song's sorta depressing, but I felt that it suited the mood. Yes, before anyone asks, I am insane and pathetic. But enough about my current mental state.
To those of you kind enough to review.
Light-Eco-Sage- Glad that you liked it, hope this qualifies as "good work" hehe, wish me luck.
Lunatic Pandora1- Yes, the powered battle armor was somethign I decided to experiment with, and it does give one a very big advantage, but then, as you saw, it has quite the Achilles Heel, doesn't it? On another note, if you think Jak is kicking everyone's rear-end six ways from Sunday right now, just wait until later, as I plan on trying another experimental thing as well (crosses fingers).
SeventhSpanishAngel12- I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I hope that my future chapters please as well.
Shakai- Thanks for the vote of confidence, and the awards. Now I simply have to find a place to put them, as my room somewhat resembles Haven City in the third game. Hope you think this chapter was as good as teh last one.
Evil Manic- Glad you liked it so far, and thanks for the gun ideas, one of em's going to be used in the next chapter, just so you know. As far as character influences are concerned, you're right on everyone of them but The Arbiter, though I can understand why you thought that. The being from the vision is actually based off the alien race that inspired the appearance of the Elites, though the helmet and dreadlocks were more of a Predator thing.
Something Stuipid- You're giving me waaaaaayyyy to much credit, I'd class myself as a mediocre, at best. Still, thanks for your support, and your ideas (bows).
Exardas- If I am good at writing battle scenes, it is only because I have read the works of those who are truly masters in the art of literary combat. I've read a lot of books by R.A. Salvatore, the creator of the Dark Elf series of books, which is where I've gotten a lot of the melee combat moves from, while the gun slinging is a result of virtually memorizing the two Halo books written by Eric Nylund, who goes into mucho grande detail about how the characters are interacting in a gunfight.
Farr2rich- Glad you liked the fight, and I'm glad that you're going to let me use your idea. I can say that it won't happen to Jak, but you can rest assured that before all is said and done, someone will be missing an arm, and while I was planning on giving that person a cybernetic limb, the idea of morph-gun installed in it sounds like it would make for a nasty little surprise, (rubs hands together gleefully). As far as Dark Jak is concerned, it is a being that was created by the Dark Eco inside our Channeler, but its taking on a personality of its own. As for why Jak isn't absorbing any Dark Eco yet, well, that will be explained in a few chapters. As for the Channeler that assaulted the nest, you should be able to figure out his identity after this chapter.
To those of you who read the story but didn't review, I sincerely hope that it was worth your time and effort to look over the work of this amateur.
To all lawyers reading this, sorry to disappoint you, but I entertain no delusions of owning anything of this story except the thus far one character that I have created, so don't even think about throwing a lawsuit my way.
Anyway, on with the story. (resumes humming).
&
Repercussions
Sig whistled a strange tune as he cleaned up the Hip-Hog. Their newest employee, a blonde haired elf named Tess, had been given the evening off, and that had left him to clean up after the late night customers. The Wastelander was forced to suppress a smile as he thought about her, and the little ditz act that she had put on in order to get hired. It was all a front, a sham, and he knew why. She was here to watch Krew.
After all, being a spy himself, it wasn't hard for him to recognize one of his own kind.
A quick glance up at the clock revealed it to be about two twenty in the morning. He looked over his work, nearly finished, the Precursors be praised for that.
However, as he walked towards the rear of the place to double check that the alcohol and other beverages were safely stored away, he heard a creaking sound, and he realized that he'd forgotten to lock the main door. He frowned and turned around to tell the person to leave.
"I'm sorry, but the bar is…" he started.
The massive Wastelander never finished his sentence, as his brain was having trouble processing the image in front of him. Jak stood there, looking like an elven Popsicle. Ice covered him from head to toe, and his skin was a pale blue, a clear indication that hypothermia had set it. Further more, his clothes looked like they had been burned…and for that matter, as if someone had used them for target practice.
"Sweet mother of Mar!" the enforcer exclaimed. "Jak, what the hell happened to you?"
"I took a dip in the harbor." he growled, and Sig could tell that he was pissed about something.
"And you're still alive how?" the armored elf blurted our before he could stop himself.
"Old family secret." Jak snarled, his tone warning Sig that he was treading on dangerous ground.
Sig, having seen Jak in combat, even if he didn't have a clue as to what the dark elf was capable of, wisely decided to let the subject drop. It was then, that he finally seemed to realize the former Channeler's situation.
"Come on," he said, keeping a level head, "we need to get you into something dry, and you're going to need to get warmed up, or you will most definitely be indulging in your mortality."
"Just show me where I can find a change of clothes and I'll be fine." the Eco infused elf responded, removing his coat, where it hit the floor with an audible crack.
"Fair enough," Sig muttered, somewhat alarmed by the smaller elf's nonchalance over his condition.
Quickly directing Jak to a small storage closet in the back, where Krew conveniently had some clothes on hand for his men, for when they went on longer missions for him. These, while not a perfect fit, would suffice for the moment.
However, Sig felt his eyes, real and mechanical widen suddenly when the dark elf removed his shirt, and tore a good portion of it on a large piece of black metal that he hadn't noticed, as it had blended in quite well with the color of his clothing.
"Ummm, Jak?" Sig breathed.
"Yeah, Sig?" Jak acknowledged, not turning around.
"I don't mean to alarm you, but there is a gods-awfully huge hunk of metal sticking out of your back."
Wordlessly, the former Channeler reached back with his left hand, fishing around until he felt the shrapnel, which had come half an inch from bisecting his spine. A frown made its way over his face as he realized that his body had caused his skin to heal back up and make a nice little seal around the piece of what had once been part of a speeder bike. This meant that he was going to have to rip one more hole in his body tonight. Snarling at yet another unpleasant turn of events, he grabbed the shrapnel, twisted it slightly, and then literally tore it from his back.
Once again, Sig found his mental capacities somewhat lacking, as Dark Eco splattered on his armor. There was a slight hissing, as the toxic substance ate away at a small bit of the metal. However, he ignored it, his attention being more riveted upon the Dark Eco dripping from the jagged alloy that the dark elf had ripped out of his back, and probably even more so, upon the blackish purple/red substance that was currently spilling down out of the puncture wound.
"Never even felt that one." Jak suddenly mused, doing little to ease the tension that had filled the room.
"I…I think I'll just go and get the first aid kit." Sig stated, his voice shaking slightly.
"Don't bother." Jak responded instantly.
The dark elf then reached back, and wiped away the Eco, leaving Sig to gape as he saw the former Channeler's back, his skin now unmarred. As a Wastelander, Sig had once boasted that he had seen just about everything there was to see in this wide world, and he now found himself making some slight revisions to that boast. Adding to that was the fact that this was definitely getting chalked up on his top ten list of weirdest-things-I-ever-saw.
Slipping a shirt on, the Eco infused elf turned back around to regard the enforcer, his glowing eyes seeming to pierce his soul in a way that Sig found most uncomfortable. More to remove himself from this awkward situation than anything else, the burly elf turned around, and muttered something about making some coffee.
Jak was sitting down on a stool in front of the bar, with Sig standing right behind it. The two of them drank their coffee in silence, as they had for the past half an hour.
"So…" the Wastelander muttered, placing his mug down.
"You want to know what I am." Jak responded, not looking up.
The sheer bluntness of the dark elf's response was sufficient to throw him off guard, and the spy found himself at a temporary loss for words, and was able to do nothing more than nod dumbly.
"You're not the first one to ask that." the former Channeler said, answering the unspoken question. "It's a long story, though, and I don't think you'd be very interested in it."
"Does it look like I'm going anywhere anytime soon?" Sig shot back, finally locating his voice.
"Fair enough," Jak responded, "my story begins a long way away from here, in a small costal village named Sandover."
Sig's eye expanded a bit upon hearing the name mentioned, and the expression on his face changed slightly, a minor detail that did not go unnoticed by the dark elf.
Some two or so odd hours later, Jak finally finished his tale. Sig scratched his chin, musing over what to make of it. Part of him wanted to think that being in the harbor had damaged the dark elf's brain. After all, his claiming to be from Sandover was absurd, not to mention this whole "Rift Rider" business. But then, he was very much telling the truth about these Dark Eco treatments, which also meant that he wasn't kidding about being a Channeler, as the Wastelander knew without a shadow of a doubt, that no ordinary elf could have ever survived such treatments. In the end, he didn't really know why at the time, but he decided to take the dark elf at his word.
At the same time, the Eco infused warrior sitting directly opposite of him was wondering why in the world he had just fessed up a good portion of his recent life story to Sig. Though, he had been quite careful to leave out the whole part about Errol's sadistic "education" methods.
A yawn suddenly erupted from his throat, and despite the amount of caffeine he had ingested in an attempt to warm himself back up, he knew that fatigue was going to claim him soon. It was strange, as he didn't just feel tired, but drained as well, like something was missing from within him. And so, without another word to the large Wastelander, he grabbed his gun and blade, got up, and slipped over to a booth, whereupon he promptly shut his eyes. Within minutes, his breathing had evened out, and he had passed into the realm of dreams, his hands still having a death grip upon KitetsuBut, as it seemed to be every time slumber overcame him, the former Channeler found no peace and comfort within the depths of his subconscious.
As always, he had no idea where he was, only the faint hinting of recollection, the vague idea that he should recognize this place, and the people within it. Once again, that mysterious stranger fought with his own shadow, and the dark elf's expression was filled with awe and wonder at this almost perfect warrior.
How long the dream continued like that, he could not recall, but with a mighty upswing, the enigmatic fighter ending his routine. In a blur, the blade, his blade, Kitetsu, was sheathed within the scabbard, and the warrior's head twisted, staring at something. Jak followed the gaze, and beheld a small child, a boy no more than four years old, jumping up and down cheering, though no sound left his lips. Then the boy bolted forward, running and leaping into the elder's arms. The warrior whirled about, silent laughter filling the air as he held the child close.
It was then that he recognized the boy; it was Alex, the young heir to the throne. That could only mean that this warrior was none other than King Damas himself.
Why? He thought to himself, what was so important about this, and for that matter, what the heck did this…vision…have to do with him?
It was then that more elves walked onto the scene. In the lead was a female elf, dressed in a simple, but still regal, dress, with her green hair tied back in a pony-tail. One step behind her, was another armored elf, and it took Jak a few seconds to recognize him, mostly because he still had his entire face. Rage sized him, and for a moment, he almost lunged at Praxis, before he remembered that this was, most unfortunately, not reality.
He also noticed the two guards flanking them, encased from head to toe in some type of grey armor, with splashes of black adorning the one on the right, while the other had orange patches on various different areas. However, what truly made these guards look the part of fearsome, was their helmets. While the Krimzon Guards had visors that covered their upper faces, these guys sported a fully covering helmet, with a fairly wide T-shaped slit for them to see out of, which glowed an otherworldly blue.
Returning his attention to the more easily identifiable elves, he watched as a mute conversation took place between them, and when it was over, Damas handed the boy over to the elf that was apparently his mother, if the way her eyes radiated affection was any indication. A brief kiss was shared between the warrior and his wife, much to the disgust of the boy caught between them. Damas grinned, and ruffled his son's hair affectionately. The king then turned and clapped Praxis on his shoulder in a comradely manner, before the two of them left, the guards falling into step behind them.
The scene changed, and this time, he saw only a lone elf, that same grey and black armored one as before, charging down a corridor of the palace. Having spent so long in dangerous situations, Jak had developed something of a sixth sense, an instinctive knowledge of when things were wrong, almost like an internal alarm system. Apparently, it still functioned here, as every fiber of his body was screaming that there was something not right. His thoughts were confirmed moments later, as bolts of Eco flew by the elf, coming from the rifles of soldiers in blood red armor.As the Krimzon Guard charged up behind the lone elf, the grey armored one suddenly put on a burst of speed, and approaching a large, ornate double door, promptly dove forward. The doors opened, and balling up, the elf slide through. No sooner did he clear it, than it slammed shut again.
Once again, his view changed, and he found himself inside the room the guard had just launched himself into. He was surprised to find the room very much occupied, and even more so to discover that he was in the throne room of the palace, if the large pair of high-backed, bejeweled chairs were any indication.
The Queen and Alex were present, as were several dozen soldiers, most of them wearing blue armor and currently doing their best to barricade the door, but a handful of them were also incased in that strange grey gear as well. What truly surprised Jak, was the fact that there were also some in the room that the same colored armor as the aggressors.
He turned his attention back to the monarch and the grey armored one. Words he couldn't hear were exchanged, and a change came over the Queen. She sighed, and the boy at her feet clamped on to one of her legs, tears of fright springing to life in his eyes. With a sorrowful smile, she picked her son up, and gently cradled him in her arms, kissing him on the forehead softly and stroking his hair. An icy chill shot through the warrior's stone heart, as realized what was happening, and what had yet to occur.
Still clutching her son tightly, the Queen of Haven spoke once more, and a change in posture came over the soldier she was addressing. He stiffened, and thumped a titanium covered fist against his chest, before gesturing out to the other troopers present. While he couldn't hear what was going on, the former Channeler knew that a glare from the monarch shut the soldier up, and the fire in her eyes testified to both her determination and authority. He knew that she was ordering the armored guard to do something, and an instant later, he found out what that something was.
The dark elf's surprise was genuine, when she thrust her son out to the grey armored warrior, catching him off guard as well. He seemed to protest, waving his arms, until another glare silenced him. Reluctantly, he accepted the boy, shifting his rifle over to where it was held in a single hand. As he was doing so, two more of the grey soldiers walked up, one with green stripes on his equipment, and the other having what looked like a bloody handprint plastered on his helmet.
The second one held out his own weapon, what appeared to be a smaller sub-machinegun, and a bandolier of power packs to go with it, to the one holding the prince, and the two traded. Then, the other two walked over to the thrones, and pushed them away from the wall. From nowhere, a small door, barely four feet high and two wide opened up, an escape route. Apparently realizing what was about to happen, the boy in the soldier's arms struggled and squirmed, trying to get free, reaching out for his mother. Tears slipped down the cheeks of both, as the armored trooper bent down and crawled inside.
Still not understanding, but filled with some inexplicable grief, the former Channeler watched as a lift carried the child out of sight, and the door resealed itself. No sooner did that happen, than the room shook, and a silent explosion blew the door open. There was a hail of Eco from both sides, and Jak's world went dark once more.
He awoke, screaming, Kitetsu making its way into his hand and moving outward in an arc. There was a strange noise, like a machine straining, and the dark katana hissed and sank into the wall of the booth, penetrating a good three feet before the Eco infused elf could stop his swing. For several seconds, he remained where he was, he eyes wide and blinking, but seeing nothing. Only when he heard an ominous growling, did he manage to shake his head, and clear his vision.
The scene that met the glaciers of his eyes was one that was extremely comical. Krew hovered a short distance away from him, his own breath coming in a combination of short gasps and angry pants, and his face, from his close set eyes to his half a dozen or so chins, was beet red. It was after a few seconds that Jak managed to put two and two together, and the urge to laugh nearly overcame his willpower.
He realized that the sound he had heard had been Krew's hoverlift protesting his sudden evacuation of the area around the dark elf, and that he had come likely enough within inches of giving the crime boss a samurai style liposuction.
"You know, I normally don't take kindly to people who try to do me in." the zeppelin of a man replied.
Jak merely shot him a glare, something no one else in their right mind would do to him. However, it wasn't as if the former Channeler did not have a good reason to be pissed. After all, he had only come literally within inches of striking down to one responsible for taking so much from him, only to have a brigade of commandos show up and ruin things, and been forced to jump into a harbor in the middle of a blizzard. Not to mention the fact that he had been shot, torched, and pumped full of shrapnel. Add to that a noticeable lack of decent sleep in the form of yet more nightmares, and you had a very dangerous individual on your hand, particularly when that individual also happens to have an inner demon capable of putting fear into the heart of a Metal Head.
Needless to say, the dark elf found himself severely tempted to simply jump up and finish what he had accidentally started.
Of course, Krew was for once, ignorant as to what the teenager opposite of him was capable of unleashing, and so also toyed with the idea of having an "accident" arranged for him. However, much as it amused him, his calculating mind immediately squelched that thought, as it realized that bumping off such a valuable part time employee would not be the wisest course of action.
"What?" Jak finally inquired, his voice cold enough to practically freeze the air around him.
"It's almost opening time," the floating blob replied, "and it wouldn't exactly be enticing for customers to come and see you lying there like some homeless bum."
"Ahhh, Krew, cut him some slack," Sig said, suddenly coming in from the back, "he's had a rough night, and went to a lot of trouble to try and help you out."
"How so?" the bar owner asked, pivoting his hoverlift around to where he could see his enforcer.
"Tried to make a certain ruler shorter by a good six feet." the Wastelander replied smoothly.
"You tried to "remove" the Baron from office?" Krew said, his one good eye cocking at the dark elf.
"Tried being the key word, unfortunately." Jak muttered, just loud enough for Krew to hear him. "I was this close," he gestured with his fingers, "to putting a blade through his gut, when his loyal sociopath showed up with a small army at his back."
"Interesting." Krew mused, falling silent, the cogs within his mind whirring at he tried to figure out how to turn this to his advantage.
"Scheme all you want, Krew, I could care less at the moment." the former Channeler growled, before turning to Sig. "You got any coats stored back there? I'd rather not hoof it all the way back with these things hanging out in plain sight." he asked, gesturing to his gun and katana.
The Wastelander nodded his head, and disappeared for a few seconds, only to return with a trench coat that was nearly identical to the one the dark elf had been wearing when he'd stumbled in. Quickly pulling it on as he walked out the door, the Eco infused warrior headed for "home", his mind adrift.
The look in Torn's eyes screamed of nearly wanting to kill him, and he could frankly care less. Vaguely, he could also hear him shouting at him, but the words were lost upon the former Channeler, as he was busy attempting to figure out a way to finish what he had gone out to do. Suddenly, though, the tattooed commander apparently realized that the elf standing across from him wasn't paying attention, and so he got up in Jak's face.
"Listen to me when I'm talking to you!" he shouted, yanking him out of his musings, and causing him to glare at the Ex-Delta. "Do you have any idea how much you put in jeopardy by running off last night?"
"The base, the Underground movement itself, and one pint sized heir to the throne." the dark elf replied calmly, counting off on his fingers.
"And yet you went and did it anyway?" Torn exclaimed, his tone becoming even more anger filled, if that was possible.
Slowly, the former Channeler detached himself from the wall, and pacing forward ominously, he spoke to the Underground commander, his own voice dropping to an angry hiss.
"Let's get one thing straight, and let's get it straight now, Torn." Jak said, his burning eyes boring into Torn's. "I don't give a damn about you little freedom movement, or this city, or anyone in it!" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but carrying an undeniable power. "I wasn't born here, and I have no loyalty to your dead king or his kid! I'm in this for vengeance and you guys are just a means to an end, nothing more!"
"You're just lucky my boss has more patience than I do, buster!" Torn retaliated, his voice considerably louder. "Cause if it were up to me, you'd be out on your rear right now!" the Ex-Delta paused, collecting his breath, trying to calm himself. "The Shadow, however, has opted to give you another chance."
"Which would be?" Jak inquired, wondering if this might be a way to blow of some steam without losing some allies.
"There's a lot of Metal Head activity in the forest lately, and the Shadow's having difficulty keeping everything under control." Torn informed him, his voice still having an edge to it. "So, I want you to put your temper to good use, waltz out there, and kill every last one of the blasted things."
The dark elf standing in front of him remained silent, before muttering a quick "fine", and whirling about, heading out of the door. As it opened, a depressed looking Daxter was found standing there, having heard everything that had just happened. Quietly, he tagged along behind his friend, leaving Torn to sit down in a chair, and rub his forehead.
At the far end of the room, another door opened, and a diminutive figure walked in, leaning heavily upon a staff.
"I don't know why you're doing this, Sir," he muttered, not even bothering to look up, "you heard him, he's a liability, not an asset. A lose cannon just waiting to be set off."
"Did you think such things about him when he saved you and Ashelin out at the pumping station?" the Shadow shot back, his voice probing. "Do not be so quick to judge him, Torn, you cannot see what I can, cannot sense what is beyond his chilled exterior."
"What do you mean, Sir?" the Ex-Delta asked, confusion laced into his voice.
"I sensed the darkened soul of a once vibrant and noble young elf, Torn. He has been wounded, and it is a wound I am not familiar with, despite my training in the healing arts." the older elf replied, earning him a confused look, upon which he decided to elaborate. "It's as if his very soul has been damaged, and I fear it is beyond my knowledge or ability to heal, whatever it is. I think he will have to find the cure on his own."
The leader of the resistance forces turned about to leave, before pausing suddenly.
"Torn, one more thing, I don't want him working on this assignment alone, not in the condition that he's in. I want you to send another one of our people out to assist him." he paused, deep in thought, before snapping his fingers. "Our resident mechanical genius ought to do well enough."
"But, Sir," Torn protested, "that could compromise her undercover mission, are you sure…"
"It is in no more danger of exposing her than what she is already doing, and I do believe she will be capable of handling herself, especially when paired up with him." the Shadow said. "Besides, we could eliminate two birds with one stone, you know those reports indicated that several Cloakers were running around out there as well. Go tell her in person, that way you can be sure she doesn't have the wrong kind of company over when you try to tell her about her new orders."
"I understand, Samos." the haggard commander responded, rising up from his seat.
&
Sooooooo, what do you think of it? I hope that this one was up to par with what you were expecting, and feel free to tell me otherwise. I also apologize if I am doing anything especially cliché in this one as well. On another note, feel free to take a stab at the identity of the mystery soldier you saw.
As for me, I am off to resume my studies of that infernal subject known only to mortals as Chemistry, and I have a lot more tests coming up, so I am not sure when the next update will be. Until then, have a great day, and if the mood takes you, leave a comment in the form of constructive criticism, idea, flame, or anything else.
See you next time.
Red Mage 04