(Walks out, humming Ode to Joy)
Hello everyone, and please don't mind my butchering of Beethoven's greatest work, had to study the finale for the ninth symphony for a class, and it has chosen these past few days to once again surface in my conscious memory.
I'm going to apologize in advance here, as we're leaping several weeks ahead in storyline time, as I could not think of anything to fill up that block...I know it's a lame excuse and I hope that it doesn't detract from the story in any way. Also, there's going to be something of a confrontation near the end of the chapter, in which something odd will happen, and I think I'm going to have a couple of characters be seriously OOC, if this is indeed the case, I once again apologize.
But enough about my feeble talents.
To those of you kind enough to review
MariaShadow- I'm glad that you liked it, and Jynx has a much larger role in this chapter, and yes, Torn will find out that his ole war buddy is still alive and kicking in more ways than one. Matter of fact, he'll probably find out in either the chapter after the next one, or the one after that.
Farr2rich- I'm glad you think I'm making Torn look more human, as in the game he had about as much personality as a block of wood. Also, I must ask you to refrain from reducing your school to a glass crater, as while there is no doubt that it is evil beyond measure, it is unfortunately, a necessary evil. That said, thanks for the review and good luck in your own writers. (P.S. did you get that E-mail that I sent you?)
Exardas- Hopefully it was an entertaining history lesson, and now the action is going to flip back to Jak and company. Read your story, doing great, and I hope my review was helpful. Good luck to ya.
Shakai- I always wondered about Torn's past myself, because he said he was in the guard, and he never went into detail about it. Plus, I also noticed that the tattoos that he had on his face were somewhat different from the normal guards, and so it made me wonder if he had been in some sort of special offshoot. Alas, the game never revealed anything. And yes, Jynx will be telling how he survived, hopefully the method I used wasn't to horrid or lacking in skill, if you know what I mean.
Light-Eco-Sage- Yeah, he's got survivor's guilt, and he's going to be having some more problems down the road, with a certain decision we both know he's going to make. Also, if you see and OC of mine, keep track of how long their around before the Grim Reaper pays em a visit, they have an average chapter life of about two point five or so. Also, I need to ask you something. I've been trying to email you with some questions, but I keep getting some sort of bizarre error reading, do you know what might be causing this?
Xeno-Freak- Glad you liked the mini-series, I was hoping that I got across a side of Torn that was never shown in the game, as his human characteristics were somewhat lacking, in my humble opinion. However, you can rest assured that he will be meeting back up with Torn, with another event that I'm going to be shamelessly altering to fit the story. Thanks again for the review. (bows)
daxter the otsel- Yeah, Jak did have a vision of the battle. It was supposed to be a way of his mind trying to piece everything back together that had happened, but a few wires got crossed, if you get my drift. About your own story, it sounds interesting, and I would be honored to try and help you out if you need it, though I honestly don't know how much help I could be. At any rate, hope to see it up soon, and thanks for your time.
loyanini- I thank you for the time that you have spent reading this and the fact that you are being so openly honest, though I think you are giving me too much credit with my writing skills. Yeah, I know that giving Jak a sword was definitely clichéd, and I guess my reasoning behind it was that I wanted the Channelers to have a different kind of weapon that sort of set them apart, as the Eco Channeling abilities would pretty much cover them in the ranged combat department. I also feel obligated to warn you that Jak's dependence upon Kitetsu will increase in a few chapters. If this causes you to want to stop reading, then I'm sorry I have wasted your time. Once again, though, you have my thanks for the vote of confidence. (bows politely)
Paska- Actually, I've never played Brute Force, and the only weapon I can really remember from the demo that I saw was that portable nuke launcher the big scaly dude was carting around. Keira's close combat weapon isn't actually a vibro blade at all, I just didn't know what else to call it. A true vibro-blade, is simply a knife, dagger, sword or what have you, that has a power cell in it causing the blade to move back and forth too quickly for the eye to see, rather like a glorified electric carving knife. What Keira is using is a crystalline substance that she's developed that when a power current is run through it, causes a resonation that creates an 'blade' of ultrasonic sound waves capable of carving the living daylights out of most things. The grenades would work along the same principle and use the same material, but the power would cause an unstable chain reaction that would result in the detonation. There is also one other thing I must know, what did you men by Mendoza being from Halo? I regret that its been a while since I've been able to play it (little brother hid the game in a fit of rage and has since forgotten where he put it), but the only people I can really remember having names were Sgt. Johnson, the Keyeses, Cortana, some vague reference to Chief's name being John, and that poor Jenkins fellow who got turned into Flood fodder. I apologize if that irritated you, but I just wanted you to know that Halo wasn't influencing that little bit, it was just some random name I slapped on an OC whose entire purpose was to get killed and piss Torn off. Oh yeah, thanks again for the gun ideas. (bows politely)
Lunatic Pandora1- True, nothing is infallible, as many a bad guy has learned the hard way, to the delight of readers and moviegoers. I'm glad you liked Torn's background, and while I'm not certain how, I do intend for Jynx to make some wisecracks about his name when they get back in action together. Plus, he will definitely be living up to his name come the next chapter...I hope.
Dunce- I'm glad you liked that line, I've always been told that I am somewhat challenged in the humor department, so its nice to know when I manage to slip in a line that cracks someone up. I hope I can continue to keep Daxter in character and with luck, he'll provide some more such moments.
To all of you who read, but did not review, I hope that hits proved to be worthy of your time.
To all lawyers, read previous disclaimers to see any information applying to you.
On a final note, I also want to say that, at least for the purposes of this story and any that may follow it, that Jak and Mar are not one in the same, thank you.
That said, here is the next chapter.
&
In Which Daxter Gives Advice, and Someone Defies Death
Weeks had passed since the dark elf had run into her, and still, try as he might, he could not rid his mind of her. That last glimpse of Keira as he had sped away from the forest clearing haunted him in his dreams, at least the ones that did not involve the extraordinarily painful death of a certain despot. He kept having to remind himself that it was for his own good, that she'd be safer away from him.
Safer from both Praxis, and himself.
He'd sworn to destroy the man who'd turned him into the abomination that he was at any cost, and driven by this all consuming thirst for vengeance, he feared for her, what he might do if for even one instant, he lost control. By this he did not mean his dark alter ego, as the battle in the forest had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that the creature meant no harm to either her or to Daxter, and instead actually seemed ready to fight to the death for their safety.
No, he feared what he himself might do. The Oracle had said that his quest for vengeance would eventually send him plummeting into madness, and who knew what might happen then.. He did know that he was dangerous enough even without his Channeling powers at his disposal, and that if he were ever to snap when she was near…
He abruptly shook the thoughts from his head as he stepped into the Hip Hog. Krew had called him up, 'requesting' that he go out on a job for him. It had been some time since he'd been able to unleash his anger upon something, and he'd practically leapt at the thought of getting some action, despite the fact that he absolutely despised the Good Year Blimp ordering him around like he was some common mercenary.
The usual rabble was to be found in the seedy pub, but even the toughest of the patrons kept their distance from the trench coat clad fighter, opting not to make eye contact either. Jak, as did all people capable of significantly above average fighting capabilities, had a way of carrying himself when out in public. It was an old subconscious form of body language probably hailing back to the earliest days of the elves, back before they had a language that could be written or spoken.
It translated rather simply: keep away from me, and you'll live to see tomorrow.
Towards the back, he could see Tess at the taps, working hard to keep the customers nice and drunk, and keeping her ears peeled for any information that might prove useful to the resistance. Upon reaching where she was, he took a seat, and asked for some water, as he wasn't a big fan of alcohol, and preferred to keep his wits about him.
Daxter, on the other hand, had no such qualms, and had promptly ordered the strongest thing available in the most flirtatious way that he could. The former Channeler merely rolled his eyes, and taking the water bottle from Tess, stood up and proceeded to move around towards the back of the establishment, where he knew that Krew would be waiting.
And indeed, the floating mound of lard was there, his one good eye darting around towards him as he went over towards the wall, leaning against it as he downed some of the contents of the bottle in his hand. All the while he never took his eyes from the crime boss, and noted, with a grim amount of satisfaction, that Krew seemed to be keeping a distance from him, no doubt due to the…unorthodox weight loss plan that Jak had nearly put him through the last time he had been in close proximity to the dark elf.
Sig was present in the room as well, and was, not surprisingly, polishing his beloved Peace Maker. Taking another sip from his drink, Jak nodded in Krew's direction, wanting to find out what it was the bar owner wanted done, so he could hurry up, get whatever pay was being offered, and get back to the Underground base.
"Glad you could make it, Jak." Krew began, his voice as oily as ever. "This mission is going to be a hard one, and I need every skilled person I can get my hands on to get it done."
"So what is it?" the dark elf inquired, crossing his arms across his chest.
"You might not believe it, but in my earlier days I was quite the avid art collector." The floating blob said, placing his right hand against his chest and rearing up as best he could, considering his bulk. "At one point in time, I sent some of my people out to…acquire…a particular piece of sculpture from the Haven City Museum, a rather nice looking statue of Mar, complete with a bejeweled key and also, according to some local legends, holding some kind of ancient Precursor artifact within it." Krew said, tapping his fingers together and getting that greedy gleam in his eye again.
"So why haven't I seen it lying around with the rest of your…'private collection'?" Jak inquired, realizing that the men had somehow managed to botch the job.
"As luck would have it, the plan called for them to use the sewers as both an access point and a means by which they could get the statue out of there without the Krimzon Guards being any the wiser." Krew said, before his voice became a frustrated growl. "There had been a lot of rain during that time, and some miserable fool chose that exact night to divert flow to the sewers. The statue and my men were lost."
"Please tell me you are not sending me down there into the sewers again for a fetch quest!" Jak groaned, getting ready to up and leave.
"You don't have ta worry about that, Cherry," Sig said, entering the conversation for the first time, "A couple of our guys spotted the statue about a week ago, but they didn't have a way to get it out of there, though they were able to mark its location. That's where we come in."
"So it's going to be you and me again, huh?" the dark elf remarked, before Sig answered him with a frown.
"There will be others besides you and Sig, Jak," Krew said, his working eye narrowed, "I'm not taking any chances the second time around, what with the Metal Heads infesting the sewers, I want that artifact and the city's key!" the overweight man bellowed, before quickly managing to compose himself. "There's going to be another team assisting you, they'll meet you inside the sewers."
"And what's in this for me?" the dark elf asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Sig got up and walked over to him, handing him a strange looking chip, similar to a gun mod. Peering at it, he looked up at the Wastelander, asking a silent question.
"That's our supplier's latest modification for the morph guns." the enforcer answered. "It broadens the firing chamber of the gun, makes the shots more powerful with a minimal waste in efficiency."
"Nice." Jak remarked.
Krew then took the time to grunt, a not so subtle signal for them to stop wasting time and get to doing what he'd ordered them to do. Holstering his weapon, the resistance fighter proceeded to do just that, quickly being followed by Sig.
As he and the Wastelander reentered the main bar area, Jak went over to collect Daxter, who, in the ten or so minutes that he'd been in the back, had managed to down quite a bit of booze, if the half dozen or so shot glasses were any indication. Surprisingly enough, though, the Ottsel did not appear to be drunk in the least bit, and to say that his elven compatriot was confused as to how he could consume so much alcohol despite his small size without any apparent adverse effects would be very much accurate.
"So what's the job this time?" Daxter inquired, as Tess reached down and started scratching him behind his ears.
"Another fun filled day in the sewers." came Jak's growled reply, earning him a groan from his friend.
"Which you're gonna be sitting out, Chili Pepper." Sig said, earning him looks from the other three. "With all that could go wrong down there, we doing need you blowing out our eardrums and complicating matters."
Daxter, for once, kept his mouth shut. He was a little worried about Jak, but his own sense told him that the dark elf would have little to worry about, as a couple hundred Metal Heads could certainly testify to his combat skills, to say nothing of what happened when his little guardian devil decided to come out and play. Besides such an opportunity gave him a chance to…chat…with a certain female bartender.
And so Jak and Sig walked out of the Hip Hog, and hopped into a two seater zoomer that the armored elf had indicated they were to use.
"So," the former Channeler asked, once they were under way, "who are these other guys that we're going to be running around with?"
"It's a three man outfit that I've worked with before." the Wastelander replied. "Two of em are brothers, Grim and Mog, though I ain't exactly sure what their real names are." the armored elf remarked before going into greater detail, "Grim's a bit skittish, but from what I understand, a fairly decent computer slicer. Mog's the younger of the two, though you wouldn't guess it by looking at him, and he's dumber than a box of rocks, but handy with a blaster."
"A regular three stooges," Jak muttered, leaning back in his seat, "so who rounds out the trio?"
"That would be Jynx." Sig said, and Jak thought he could detect a slight amount of animosity in his voice.
"There something between you and him?" inquired, deciding to follow through on his curiosity.
"No," Sig replied, "but I get the feeling there's a lot more to him than what meets the eye."
"Why do you say that?" asked the dark elf, looking at him strangely.
"After being in my line of work for a while, you get to be able to tell an awful lot about people just by watching em." Sig responded. "I don't know what it is exactly, but there's something strange about him. He's not your average, two-bit blaster jockey, he's different from others mercs, if you know what I mean."
Jak fell silent, pondering what the Wastelander had said. His thoughts drifted to the tale Torn had told him those weeks ago and wondered…but then…no, not even he, with all of his unnatural abilities, would have been able to survive against such odds. This elf, though bearing the same name as Torn's comrade, had to be a different person. The pyromaniac that Torn had fought along side of for so long was probably pushing up flowers in some unmarked mass grave along with every other poor soul who got waxed in the coup.
Of course, one would think, that given all that he'd been through, he should have realized that to some people, the odds meant nothing.
The sewers seemed just as he had left them, dank, cold, and with a smell all their own. His eyes quickly adjusting to the dimness, Jak stepped jumped off of the ladder, and started looking down either side of the corridor, searching for the other team.
"About time you guys decided to show up." came a voice from off to the side.
Jak whirled around, his magnum and Kitetsu clearing their respective holsters at the same time. A figure stepped out of the darkness, revealing himself in the dim light. Jak took in the sight of the other elf, who was a little shorter than himself. His blond hair was somewhat unkempt, and his brown eyes seemed…old, for lack of better term, like the eyes of someone who'd seen a lot in his time in the world.
That was about all he could make out of the elf's face, he was wearing a blood red bandana over most of his face. The former Channeler also took the time to notice his soon to be team member's weapons. In a holster on his right, was a weapon that he recognized as one of Keira's morph-guns, set to a submachine gun mode. However, it was the other one that truly caught his attention.
Strapped to the elf's left hip, was a DC-17.
"Hey there, tin head." the elf said, nodding his head in Sig's direction.
"Where's the rest of the crew, Jynx?" the Wastelander said, his tone very down to business.
The mercenary leader simply stuck his thumb back over his shoulder, pointing down the corridor. Looking past him, Jak saw the outlines of two more people approaching, one significantly larger than the other. As they stepped forward to the point where he could see them better, he also gave them a ones over.
The smaller of the two, Grim, probably, as his eyes kept darting around, as if searching for some hidden danger, held a nondescript weapon and was clad in what appeared to be bits and pieces of standard issue Krimzon Guard equipment. The other one, who was without a doubt Mog, was built like a tank, and clutched what looked like a heavy repeater rifle, holding it easily in one hand.
"Well, since this is your first time working together, I'd like for you guys to meet Jak." Sig said, getting a nod from the mercs.
"We know who pretty boy here is." Jynx said, getting a stare from the dark elf that caused him to chuckle slightly. "You're easy to recognize, Jak, your numero uno on Praxis' most wanted list, and with the price on your head, it's a wonder that you ain't got bounty hunters just lining up to try and take you in."
"Is that a threat of some sort?" the former Channeler growled, getting a snort from the elf standing across from him.
"I'm not stupid, blondie," Jynx said, turning around and walking down the sewer corridor, causing Jak to notice a rather large pack that he on, "if you've been able to do everything the K.G. have been saying you've done, then you're definitely not someone I want to tango with." the mercenary then paused, and looked back over his shoulder. "Besides, I'm not a fan of the current administration of Haven."
Jak remained quiet, now fully understanding what Sig had meant when he had said that this mercenary was different from others. Most of them, really didn't care where their next paycheck came from, and just about anything went. Jynx, however, gave off something, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew that he wasn't the kind of merc you ran across everyday. On top of that, he, like Jak, seemed to also have a way of moving, different from his comrades, that hinted at something else, something more dangerous than your average gun for hire.
"Alright," the mercenary leader said, drawing his guns, "pretty boy, you're up on point, Sig, you got the rear guard, and everyone make sure you stay as far away from me as you feasibly can, cause I'm carrying about thirty kilos of high explosives here, and if that takes enemy fire…well, you can probably figure the rest out."
With that, they started on their merry little way.
Some hours had passed since Jak and Sig had left to go trudge through the muck and sewage that was underneath the city, and Daxter wished them well. He, for the most part, had been distracted by other thoughts, most revolving around the elf that had taken a liking to him, and he and Tess shot playful banter back and forth to each other, until at last the time came for her to get off shift. Not exactly wishing to be left alone in a tavern with arguably the fattest man on the planet and the ruffians currently in the bar, the rodent had opted to follow her, something she gladly allowed for.
Most would have found her relationship with the Ottsel to be strange, or would have marveled at her apparent patience to be able to tolerate his antics for as long as she had. Truthfully, she didn't find dealing with him to be all that difficult. And though he could at times be the very living definition of immaturity, he had a way of trying to just make you laugh, of lifting that spirit of depression that seemed to fill every part of the city these days. While some of his jokes weren't all that funny, they weren't that way from lack of trying.
And that kind of cheer that he gave her might be just what the doctor ordered from a certain techo wiz that she called a friend. And so, as the sun began to make its way down in the west, she made her decision.
"So where to, now, angel?" Daxter inquired, walking a double pace to keep up with her.
"I'm heading to visit Keira." Tess replied, getting a frown from the rodent in response.
For once, Daxter was taking things seriously. He knew that Jak had hurt her, hurt her badly with his sudden fit of what appeared to be insanity. Well, it seemed as though fate had decreed that he, in his ever influential role of best friend to the dimwitted male in the relationship, was to be the middle man in attempting to patch things up. He wasn't exactly sure how in the name of the Precursors he was supposed to do that, with Jak's stubborn insistence that he was a danger to Keira and to everything else, but he at least owed it to the both of them to try and reassemble the relationship.
He was suddenly yanked out of his thoughts by the realization that his feet were no longer on solid ground, and that something, or more likely, someone, had him by the scruff of the neck. He twisted about and found himself staring into Tess's eyes, and indignant look quickly making itself manifest upon his face.
In response, she simply smiled, and pointed to an area just in front of where the Ottsel had been walking. Daxter was forced to grin sheepishly as he realized that, for once distracted by something that was actually of an important matter, he had nearly blundered straight into some freshly laid, and still drying, dura-crete.
A few seconds later, the former elf decided to make the most of the moment and asked her why she'd stopped him from trying to grace the sidewalk with his footprints and John Handcock. Laughter rang out from among the two as they continued upon their way, drawing a few strange looks from those passing by, but paying them no heed.
"More hostiles, nine o'clock!" Jynx shouted, gesturing to the other side of the sewer intersection, before turning his guns upon the encroaching Metal Heads.
Jak turned with the others, and sighted up a Grunt that was near the front of the charge. A three shot burst from his magnum connected solidly with its chest, blasting it back with enough force to have it fall on the monsters coming up behind it. His next target was a Centurion, which was advancing with its energy shield held up and its blaster pistol firing straight at him. Once more, he demonstrated Kitetsu's unusual ability to deflect projectile attacks, and sent the Eco bolts flying back into the enemy ranks, cutting several of them down. The one last shot came in, and he swung his dark katana straight down, sending the burst of energy right back at the Centurion. The bolt caught the shield at an angle, and caused the creature to stagger. It was a window of opportunity that the dark elf capitalized upon, bringing up his morph gun and firing off another burst, which caught the bipedal Metal Head right in its cranium, and for lack of a better description, effectively blew it off.
He had to hand it to Keira, she most definitely knew how to build a good weapon. Unfortunately, that thought of her led to another, and very nearly resulted in a lot of pain for the former Channeler, as a Drone that none of them had noticed had snuck up behind them, and this one was apparently smart enough to realize that growling before striking, as was the norm with its kind, would not be a healthy strategy. Fortunately, aid would once again come from a certain pale skinned demon.
Behind you!
In a single, blurred movement, Jak pivoted around to intercept the creature as it struck. Kitetsu sang once more, and the former Channeler snarled as he slashed downward. The stroke caught the very much surprised Metal Head right between the eyes, and the creatures own momentum assisted with its bisection, resulting in two neat halves falling to the ground next to the dark elf.
Not wasting an instant, he whirled around to take aim and was just in time to watch Sig send a very familiar ball of electrical energy flying into the ranks of the enemy. It exploded, and the shot devastated what was left of the aggressors.
"Yes!" the Wastelander shouted, pumping his arm into the air.
The threat past, Jak took the time to both reload his weapon, and to send his thanks to his alter ego, whose vocabulary and intellect had been skyrocketing at what most would consider to be an alarming rate over the past few weeks. In fact, the exponential rate of growth made the dark elf wonder just how long it would be before he would be holding regular conversations with the creature. Of course, that was also thought to be the first sign of insanity, but what did shrinks know about real life?
He was suddenly aware that someone was staring at him, and turning around, found Jynx reloading his DC-17, looking him square in the eyes.
"You're pretty handy with that thing." the mercenary said, nodding to his morph gun.
The other elf then looked down to the cleaved Drone, whistling slightly as he saw what had been done to it. And then, as had happened so many times before, the elf looked up, and let his eyes roam across the weapon responsible for the kill, pausing slightly as he did so. However, the moment passed swiftly, and Jynx was once again ordering his men forward.
That was something else that puzzled the dark elf. Jynx was different from other mercenaries that he'd seen Krew use in another fashion as well: he didn't talk like them. He used military terms, pointed out objectives and targets with gestures, and he also didn't possess that flair that most of them had. In other words, his style of gunslinging was lacking in the fanciness that most guns for hire had incorporated. In the end, that made his way of doing things a little less flashy, but considerably more efficient and effective. It was style he had seen only once before.
It left Jak wonder, if perhaps…maybe…just maybe…Torn wasn't as alone as he thought.
They had reached the garage where Keira worked, and had been about to head inside when they heard faint conversation. One was obviously the aqua haired mechanic speaking, but the other, was a male, and possessed a voice that made Daxter gulp, and caused Tess to quietly and quickly pull them back into a space between some of the buildings.
Daxter forced himself to quiet his breathing, as while he had purposefully not gone into explicit detail, Jak had said that Errol was capable of things that would have likely resulted in Gol Akaron loosing his lunch, and that was saying something. It was also backed up by the fact that just about everyone agreed that the Krimzon Guard Commander was practically the dictionary definition of sociopath. Therefore, it seemed rather practical for someone who had a tendency to stand out from a crowd, and who happened to have been noted riding on the shoulder of Haven's Most Wanted, to not draw attention to himself or to Tess.
The talking between Keira and Errol became louder, and he realized that they were coming closer to where they were, and the two of them ducked back as far as was feasibly possible, well, at least Tess did. Daxter, on the other hand, became possessed by an insatiable curiosity, and changing his thinking to a belief that he could remain unnoticed if he stayed close enough to the ground, crawled to then end of the alley and peeked around the corner. Seconds later, the Baron's right hand elf walked out into the darkened street, turning around after a moment or two.
"A splendid evening, my dear, think you'd be up for the same thing tomorrow, hmm?" he inquired in an oily tone that would have put Krew to shame.
"Sure, I'd love to!" Keira responded, and Tess instantly recognized that she'd gone into 'ditz mode.'
Apparently, the act worked as it always had, making Errol think of her as little more than a naïve young woman with an affinity for racing speeders. And so, complete with a smile that would have sent shivers down the spine of any sane person, the K.G. Commander leaned down, and kissed her.
For an instant, the Ottsel entertained the notion of stabbing out his own eyes to rid himself of, that, image. But then, realizing that it was now permanently burned into his memory, he settled upon deciding to attempt to bludgeon himself into a slight case of amnesia at a later date.
Errol, meanwhile, had started walking down the street, whistling at the top of his lungs. Keira waited outside until he had moved beyond her field of view, and then quickly ducked back inside. Double checking to make certain that the coast was clear, Tess moved through the open garage door, with Daxter hot on her heels. Once, inside they could hear the sound of running water, which was followed by gargling, and a rather loud spewing. They turned a corner, and saw the aqua haired elf, hunched over a sink and repeating the previous steps, as if trying to rid her mouth of an extremely foul taste.
"Pah, blag, ug!" the mechanic sputtered, before shutting off the water, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"That bad, eh?" Tess inquired, causing Keira to instantly spin around, her fists balled up, and ready for a scrap.
"Tess…" she trailed off, once she realized who it was, and relaxed her stance.
"I admire your ability to see that guy day after day and manage to not shoot him as he walks off." the Underground fighter remarked, shaking her head.
"Believe me," Keira responded, crossing her arms and glaring at the floor, "it's getting harder and harder not to do that."
Daxter chose that moment to clear his throat and walk forward a bit, to where he could see both of the girls.
"Excuse me," he began in his ever famous, 'I want answers', way of speaking, "but as an Ottsel who personally hates being left in the dark, would either of you two lovely ladies mind telling me just what the heck is going on here?"
"Daxter?" Keira said, somewhat surprised to see him here, and also to not see him in proximity to a certain ex-Channeler. "Where's Jak?"
"Currently traipsing around the sewers with Sig and few other guys for Krew." the Ottsel answered, before quickly getting back to the subject that he wanted to know about. "Now then, please tell me why in the name of the Precursors a man whose name is synonymous with psychotic just got all mushy with you?"
"Oh, that." Keira remarked, her tone icy. "Errol, you might say, took a bit of liking towards me after I had to fix up his zoomer one day, and he's been hounding me ever since."
"And being as smart as she is," Tess picked up, "she quickly realized that men in his position often receive certain bits of key intelligence, and under the right circumstances, tend to reveal it."
"And just how far have you gone with him?" Daxter muttered, frowning.
"Has anyone ever told you how much of a pervert you are?" Keira shot back, glaring at him, shuddering at the notion of what the Ottsel was implying.
"A few times, maybe." the diminutive rodent remarked, smiling slyly. "But, then, as entertaining as the notion is, I didn't come here to talk about me."
Keira was quick to pick up on his meaning, and turned around, not wanting him to see the pain on her face, the weakness that she hated herself for.
"What about that?" she said bitterly, not bothering to face him.
"I wanted to…" Daxter started, before pausing, and scratching the pilots cap on his head, unsure of how to do this, "apologize for him, Keira, he's been having it rough lately, if you know what I mean."
"Does he think he's the only one?" Keira growled, memories of her own dark times flashing through her minds eye in a few seconds.
"No," Daxter began, frowning, "but he's the only one here who has a tendency to turn into something out of a bad horror film when things get ugly." The mechanic looked over at him but he held up a small hand to let him finish. "And, for that you may thank senior sociopath who just pranced out of your front door."
"What do you mean?" Tess asked, a little confused.
True, Daxter had confided in her about Jak's condition, but only up to a point, and she'd heard nothing about what had caused it outside of the knowledge that Baron Praxis was somehow responsible.
"I mean," Daxter said, his voice as fury laced as he could get it, "that Count Chrome-Dome had his second in command try to turn him into some kind of living super weapon!" he looked at her, now certain that he had her undivided attention. "That Errol was the person pulling the switch and laughing the whole freaking time Jak got turned into a guinea pig!"
Keira felt, in that instant, her anger towards Jak depart, replaced by sorrow and the image of Dark Eco and blood running down the length of a runed blade. Almost as quickly, that sorrow was replaced by a burning rage towards the elf she was currently trying to get information out of. Yes, she'd catch flak for it, and a lot of it for that mater, but it didn't matter to her in that instant. For in that moment in time, that she vowed the next time he dropped by, Errol was getting an Eco bolt right between the eyes.
Wait…no…on second thought, she would shoot him in certain other location first, wait approximately three or four seconds to ensure registration of the pain, and, then, put an Eco bolt right between his eyes.
"Also, about how he acted in the forest," Daxter continued, yanking her away from her thoughts of vengeance and back to reality, "well, he's scared, Keira."
"What do you mean?" she asked, not understanding.
"He's scared of what he's become," the Ottsel answered, his voice quiet, "of what he might do. He's also afraid that Praxis and Errol might come after you if they knew…you know."
"I can take care of myself." she said defensively.
"You proved that quite well, I might add." the former elf stated, recalling how she turned several dozen Metal Heads into meaty giblets with her RPG launcher. "All I'm saying though," he paused looking her dead in the eyes yet again, "is to give Jak some time, he'll come around, even if I have to try and beat some sense into him myself."
Hearing those words from the Ottsel, and watching him ball up his small fists and start shadow boxing, Keira did something she hadn't done in a long time, she laughed.
"Well, that was workout." Jak muttered, looking around at the fifty or so Metal Heads that lay dead before him and the others.
"No kidding," Jynx remarked, reloading both submachine guns, "I got half a mind to charge Krew extra for this one, this job definitely merits some hazardous duty pay."
"Let's just get out of here before more of them come back!" Grim said, his head jerking about, trying to peer into the gloom of the sewers.
"I second that motion." his leader concurred, motioning for Jak to take the lead once again.
According to the map they were following, an old fashion ink and paper one this time, their objective was approximately two hundred and fifty meters down the corridor that they were currently traveling in. And, sure enough, about a minute later, the slightly larger than life-size statue finally came into view.
The first thing that struck Jak about it was the detail that had been immaculately put into it. Granted, there were a few chips and dings in it, no doubt from its wild ride when the sewers had been flooded, and some kind of aquatic plant life had been trying to cover some areas. But, other than those minor flaws, which were obviously due to lack of maintenance and proper handling, it was perfect. The founder of Haven City was on one knee, his head bowed as if in prayer, a blade clasped between his hands. The statue seemed to have been carved mostly from obsidian, the color of his armor…armor that Jak recognized from his visions of Damas.
The craftsmanship of the protective gear was unlike anything Jak had ever before seen, and here, before him now, he could examine it better. It was composed, seemingly, of many interconnecting pieces of metal, which appeared to form into some sort of half-breastplate that stopped at the bottom of his sternum, though it did continue downward just a little bit on either side. Similar material composed the upper leg armor, and a pair of shoulder pauldrons, as well as his gauntlets and greaves. Speaking of gauntlets, only now, did he recognize that the sword he clutched was Kitetsu, a perfect stone copy of the blade that he now held. With one exception. There was a strange protrusion coming off of the end of the hilt. It was four sided, flat on one, angled on the others, making it look like some sort of a wedge, and it looked as if it would have been about two and a half inches long on the real thing…puzzling.
The king's head, on the other hand, was devoid of any form of covering, and unlike the rest of the statue, made from a brilliantly white marble. He was clean-shaven, with his hair coming down to his shoulders, and his eyes were closed.
"Hey, pretty boy," came Jynx's voice, and Jak turned to look at the mercenary, who was currently taking what explosives were left out of his pack, as a many had been used to help clear the paths they had taken, "make yourself useful and grab that key on his belt."
For the first time, Jak looked down, and there, hanging from the statue's waist, attached by an ornate metal chain, was the key that Krew had referred to. It was made of some sort of gold metal, with what appeared to be an enormous ruby stuck in one end of it. Holstering his magnum, he took hold of the key, and used his blade to quickly cut it loose.
"Alright, now get clear." Jynx said, shooing him away as he finished with his explosives. "Sorry to do this to you, Mar, but I think you'll understand." he added quietly.
Jak, who finally seemed to realize Jynx was about to do to the statue, but had enough sense to back away from the statue, quickly retreated over to Sig and the other two mercenaries. The armored enforcer held out his hand, and Jak handed over the key, before turning back to watch Jynx at work.
"What's going on?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Krew's decided he wants to see if the ole bedtime stories about the 'Heart of Mar' are true." Jynx said, having apparently over heard him, but hadn't bothered to look up from his work. "So he wants us to crack this thing open and see if we find anything."
Jak couldn't explain it, but something, like a vibe or something, struck him at that moment, almost like it was an insult directed at him somehow. Somewhat puzzled, he opted to keep his mouth shut, and looked around, making certain that there weren't any Metal Heads that were going to try and ambush them yet again.
"Alright, plug your ears, cause this is going to be a big one." Jynx replied, an odd excitement making its way into his voice as he prepped the detonator.
The elf then got up, and jogged back over to the others, before setting off what was left of his explosives. It was indeed loud, and the dark elf shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the incessant ringing. Once he had succeeded in doing that, he walked over to the statues remains, feeling oddly sad at its destruction, and beheld something he'd never thought he'd see again.
For a brief instant, his mind again flashed back to the Rift-Rider, and he recalled the object, the gem, that he'd pushed, that had set everything that had happened up to this day in motion.
And here it was, lying upon the floor of a sewer passage, untouched and unharmed by the blast, as if mocking him.
Just as suddenly, it was scooped up by Jynx, who tossed it over to Sig. The Wastelander caught it easily, tucking it away safely in the same pouch that held the key.
That accomplished, they drew their weapons, and headed back the way they came.
At last, they reached the manhole where they'd dropped in those many hours ago. Jynx and his crew were going up first but Jak had to know something that had been bugging him. He had to know about the mysterious elf.
"Jynx, one moment." he said as Mog began to climb the ladder.
"Yeah, what is it, pretty boy?" the mercenary inquired, turning around to face him.
"What were you before you became a merc?" the former Channeler asked.
"What makes you think I was anything before I became a mercenary?" Jynx responded, rather quickly to, in fact, probably a little too quickly.
"Take the point, hostiles at nine o'clock, suppression fire." Jak said, cocking an eyebrow at the other elf. "You don't talk like a homegrown mercenary, you've had military training, Special Forces, I'd wager."
"I was never in the K.G." he said with a shake of his head, before crossing his arms. "And what in the world makes you think I'm Special Forces material?"
"That." Jak said, and pointed to the DC-17 on to his left hip.
"What about it?" Jynx responded with a nonchalant shrug.
"That's a DC-17, a Special Forces submachine gun." he elaborated, a smug look on his face.
"Ever heard of a little wonder called the black market, blondie?" the mercenary shot back, glaring.
"Somehow I doubt you got that on the black market," Jak said, chuckling slightly, "I know that those guns were only made for a little while. Praxis' commandos use either MP-7s or CM-15s, because even though they aren't as good they're cheaper to produce." He paused and looked the other elf in his eyes. "If you had enough credits to buy one of those guns, never mind if you actually managed to stumble across one, I seriously doubt you'd be in the mercenary business. More likely you'd be in some fancy apartment in the middle of downtown Haven."
"Perhaps I simply like my line of work." Jynx growled, in tone indicating that the conversation was over.
However, as he turned his back on the dark elf, Jak played his trump card.
"My mistake then," he said, holding his hands up, "I just thought, perhaps for a moment, if Forty Two wasn't the only one left."
That, got a reaction.
Jynx paused in mid step, and his two compadres exchanged looks with each other, not knowing what to say. Slowly, he turned around, and there was a glare in his eyes, but also, what almost looked like a gleam of hope.
"What was that." the merc asked, his tone deadly serious.
"Nothing much," the former Channeler said with a shrug, "I just thought an acquaintance of mine might have been wrong in his belief that he was the last of his brotherhood. But I guess, that maybe Torn is alone in his little world."
"Torn's still alive?" Jynx said before he could stop himself, as that bit of info had practically blown him off his feet.
"What in the world is going on here?" Sig asked, eying the mercenary suspiciously.
In reply, Jynx pulled down his bandana, exposing his face for the first time. Slowly, almost dramatically, he reached up to his cheek, and dug his fingernail into the skin. Then, quite rapidly, he yanked away, and peeled off what appeared to be some sort of cosmetic pseudo-skin.
Jak could only smile triumphantly as the mysterious soldier repeated the process, baring a strange series of blue tattoos that no doubt covered his forehead as well, tattoos, identical to those Torn had on his own visage. They were the marks of an elite group of soldiers, that everyone thought dead…the marks of a Delta.
"So you are Delta Sixty Seven…what are the odds." Jak mused as the now unmasked soldier walked up to him.
"Details, spill, now!" he growled
They were details that Jak did indeed spill.
"My gods." Jynx breathed, leaning against the wall of the sewer, heedless of the gunk growing upon it.
"So you've been hiding this whole time as a merc?" Sig said, his glare somewhat accusing, which Jak did find to be rather strange.
"In case you haven't taken a look around lately," the Ex-Delta remarked, gesturing around their location, "Praxis has a iron grip on this city, walking around in broad daylights with these," he pointed to his tattoos, "would be a death sentence for me."
"What I can't understand," Jak muttered, looking at the elf in question, "is how you're still alive. From what Torn told me, you sealed yourself off in one of the palace corridors to try and hold of Praxis' advancing forces."
"Yeah, well, I did manage to survive." Jynx replied quietly, staring at the ground.
"So basically, you ran off like a coward and left your buddies, and what was left of the royal family to die?" Sig remarked with a strange tone of bitterness and anger.
The change is Jynx's body language was so swift and sudden that the dark elf suddenly wondered if he wasn't staring at a different person. Whereas before, he had been seemingly struggling to hold himself up, now, he seemed to be full of renewed strength. Slowly, the Ex-Delta looked up, and stared at the Wastelander, his eyes burning with raw anger, a hatred that the rest of his body also seemed to radiate.
Uh-oh
Jak was quick to agree with his alter-ego, and realized that Jynx seemed ready to kill. Slowly, the elf detached himself from the wall, and walked over to where the armored enforcer was, his steps measured and deliberate. Soon enough, though, he was toe to toe with Sig. It was rather humorous, in a strange way, as Sig was close to seven feet in height, while Jynx was more likely about five foot eight, and thus to see him getting up in the Wastelander's face would no doubt had Jak laughing if the situation was not so serious.
"What did you call me?" Jynx growled, his breathing heavy.
"You heard me." Sig replied in a similar tone.
Sig, however, had made a mistake. He was a Wastelander, and that in itself meant that he was far better than the average rank and file trooper. He had also heard tales of the Deltas, but had believed them to be only a little better than the rest of the weaklings in the Haven Military. However, he was about to learn that hearing about what the Deltas could do, and finding oneself the target of those skills, were two entirely different matters.
Jynx was a blur as he moved. He brought his kneecap up, smashing it into an area of Sig's lower chest that wasn't covered by his armor sections, driving the breath from the larger elf's lungs. At the same time, he swung his right hand out, and slammed the hand that held Peace Maker into the sewer wall, applying pressure to a certain area that resulted in Sig dropping his rifle. At the same time, the armored elf found his head driven back up rather forcefully, and realized that the object responsible for it was cold and metallic.
Jynx had his DC-17 planted squarely under the Wastelander's chin, his finger on the trigger, and the look in his eye told everyone that he was more than capable of squeezing it. One false move, and Sig's brains would be splattered everywhere.
"Listen, you piece of drek," the Ex-Delta snarled, "I held my position against impossible odds. I fought those traitorous bastards that joined Praxis," he drove the gun higher, digging it into flesh, "I held them off till I didn't have anything left to shoot with! Then I tossed my last couple of flash-bangs, ducked into a tiny maintenance shaft, and tried to make my way back to the Throne Room from there. But by then it was too late, and so I bugged out. Bravery is commendable, but there is no honor in throwing your life away."
Jynx then paused, and took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself.
"But then," he said glaring up at Sig, "honor is a concept you desert dwelling scumbags aren't familiar with! You don't know what its like to go off and fight with people you consider family, and then have them and the people you were supposed to protect taken away from by someone you looked up to!" And Jak saw an unmistakable flash of pain go through the Ex-Delta's eyes, before the rage returned again. "And so I started fighting back! Just about every credit that we earn helps us wage a little three man war on the Baron." He suddenly turned to look at his two comrades who both nodded their heads, and then he looked at Jak. "Next time you see him, ask your 'Shadow', if there haven't been a few sabotaged Eco haulers that your group wasn't responsible for, if there haven't been some Hellcats that have had 'malfunctions' that you didn't cause."
He paused again, and looked back to Sig, finally seemingly to calm down slightly.
"So let's get one thing straight, Wastelander," he spat, "if you ever, ever, call me a coward again, I'll pump you so full of holes that your own mother won't recognize what's left of your corpse! Understand me?"
Sig nodded, knowing that this merc held his life in his hands. Jynx took his submachine gun away from the enforcer's head, and then drove his knee into Sig again, this time with enough force that the Wastelander fell down to his hands and knees, coughing his lungs out.
Wordlessly, he turned, and began to head towards the ladder that led up from where they were. Grim and Mog went up first, the elder brother before the younger, and then he clasped the ladder. However, as he did so, he looked back at the dark elf, the rage in his eyes gone, instead replaced by gratitude.
"Hey, Jak," he said, his voice quiet once again, "thanks…thanks for letting me know."
And with that he was gone, up the ladder and off to wherever he and the other two stayed.
All the while, the Ex-Delta's thoughts seemed to utter one phrase over and over again.
What do I do now?
Keira, Tess, and Daxter had been chatting amongst each other, most of the topic dealing with the identity of the Shadow, and due to Keira's subsequent reaction, a lengthy tale that left Tess' eyes practically falling out of her head. Not more than a few minutes after they finished, a beeping sound began to emanate from a comm. unit that the mechanic had strapped to her hip. She quickly pulled it out and brought it up.
"Keira here." she said, wondering what could have been so important at this hour of the day.
"It's Torn, head to the main square of the town, where Praxis has that statue of himself set up, and be armed." the voice of the Underground soldier crackled.
"What's so urgent?" she asked.
"We've found the Tomb." Torn replied, before the comm. went dead.
&
Okay, I think I'll stop it right there. Once more, I apologize if the confrontation between Jynx and Sig made either of them OOC, or if the rapid jump forward irritated anyone. I'm not sure when I'll be able to get the next chapter out, as I'm going to be taking a radically different approach to the Mar's Tomb thing, and I'm really don't have all the details iron out yet.
At any rate, I hope you enjoyed this installment despite any problems it probably had, and please feel free to leave me any comments, be they criticisms, advice or ideas (which are especially welcome), or even an outright flame.
Thank you all for your time, and I hope you have a great day.