(Appears out of thin air, partially transparent, riot gear full of holes)
Hello again people, and I hope those of you in the states had a happy 4th. As for me, well, coming to you from the great beyond again, once more courtesy of Paska's superior battle skills, Kudos to ya man.
To those of you who have been so kind and reviewed my amateur works.
Xeno-Freak- I'm really, really glad that you liked the chapter, I was so worried that people would think that it was dumb and whatnot. I'm also glad that you liked the changes that I made to Mar's armor, as you would think that being as bright as he had to have been, that his gear would be somewhat better than what was likely seen at a Roman Coliseum. Also, not sure what you meant by EVAish when you referred to Errol's death, but, let's just say that it will be quite...umm...shocking, as opposed to his quick, merciful, and relatively painless death in the second and third game.
MariaShadow- Was a little nervous about rewriting those challenges myself, but I had to turn Jak back away from his self destructive course, and truth be told, I don't think I'd have been able to write it like it happened in the actual game. As for Jynx, he makes his triumphant comeback in this chapter, hopefully you like it.
Animedragongirl- I'm glad that corny was all you thought it was, I was fearing reviews containing words like abysmal, and a couple of death threats, truth be told. I hope that this chapter comes out a little better, though. (crosses fingers and prays)
Exardas- Congratz on getting your own copy, and yes, I did find the battle with Kor to be a little less challenging than what I was expecting. However, with a bit of luck, the showdown in my own tale will be something a little more shall we say...epic? Best of luck to you in your own writings.
LunaticPandora1- Hmmm, interesting mental image, though his claws might make him well suited to picking up CDs, lol. Also, Mar's armor is more closer resembling that of a Predators, but, at the same time, their gear is sorta similar to the elven stuff from LOTR, though it'll hopefully do a better job. That's one thing I've noticed in these medieval war movies, the armor, no matter how cool looking or well forged, never seems to do its job very well when it comes to protecting the individual wearing it. Wonder why? Also, about the helmet, our favorite little dark elf won't don it until he gets the rest of the armor in the Jak 3 sequel that I'm trying to iron out.
Shakai- glad that you liked the showdown, and I happy you didn't think that I was being too clichéd with the whole doppelganger idea (wipes brow in relief). And about Jak and Keira, you didn't think that I was going to keep em separated forever did ya? Hope you like this chapter too, and that once again, it isn't too corny.
Every Heart Bleeds- You are giving me way too much credit, my friend. I doubt I'd ever be able to write a novel, because I have trouble thinking up backgrounds and back stories. Also, as Paska does a good job pointing out, I have trouble thinking up original ideas from time to time, which by that I mean every other chapter, and I have the bad habit of taking things from other universes and whatnot. Still, I do hope you enjoy the story, and thanks for taking the time to review.
Farr2rich- Glad you liked the chapter, and feel free to continue with your own story and have Jak redeem himself there, if you already thought of the idea, then you're not taking it from me. As for your own story, I hope that you update it soon, as I'm really eager to find out about the first game. On another note, I feel the need to warn you that Jak will not be the one who will be losing his arm, but that your idea will be used. Best of luck to ya in your own works, and thanks for the review.
Paska- Nice shot with bazooka, though the AK was a bit of overkill. Once again, you've managed to confuse me in the Halo department, though knowing my luck, it means that I'm probably unconsciously drawing ideas form that universe, in which case it's definitely time for a memory wipe. As far as the DC-17 is concerned, it's a weapon from the Star Wars universe. It's a high powered, high rate of fire special forces particle blaster, very much sought after by mercs for its ease of use and overall superiority to most other automatic fire weapons. And about the Metal Heads, there were fives elves, one cannot forget Grim and Mog, and Sig Peace Maker would be capable of nuking quite a few, while Jynx is an ex black ops soldier. About the Metal Heads in general, they always reminded me of the Zerg from Starcraft, who typically use numerical superiority to simply run all over their enemies. This means they run into problems when they encounter elite enemy units, specifically when they are dug in or in confined spaces that require them to bunch up. Still, thank you very much for your input once again, (bows politely) and rest assured that Jak's 'replacement weapons' will not come from Halo. In fact, they will not even be guns.
To all who read but did not review, I pray that I have not upset you in any way with my lack of talent.
At the same time, Lawyers, read the disclaimers in previous chapters, you will see that nothing has changed.
That done, here is the next chapter, where things go downhill for our heroes.
&
Unleashing a Devil
The three of them simply stared at each other for a few seconds, before, as one, they bolted, heading back for the entrance as fast as they could.
Sentinel wasn't idle either, as the computer sent out command codes to the tombs defenders. Granted, three of them had been dismantled in Jak's test, but hopefully the remaining five would be able to deal with the intruders.
Once more clad in his mechanical armor, Praxis marched at the head of the commando formation, Errol at his side. He would have never dreamed that things could have gone as smoothly as they had, considering all that could have gone wrong with this scheme. First, by sheer luck they'd managed to stumble across a meeting between his daughter and that ex-Delta, Torn. Next, Errol had gotten the message of what they knew across to him with out getting shot, stabbed, or maimed in any other way or fashion. Then, Torn had actually gone through on his part, falling victim to one of the oldest weaknesses in the book. Now, to top it off, from the sounds of things, Jak might have just gone ahead and gone to the trouble of getting the Stone for them.
However, he suddenly felt a strange prickling sensation in the back of his skull, and he stared around, getting that soldier's sixth sense that they were being watched. Seconds later, his gut instinct would be proven correct, but not in a way that he would have ever thought possible.
Hovering and wraithlike, she appeared before him, causing ever single soldier to stop in their tracks, unable to comprehend what was going on. Praxis shook his head, wondering for a moment if all the stress of the past few months had suddenly caused some part of his brain to break, and he was now having a hallucination.
The floating image of his sister stuck her hand out, and then spoke in a powerful voice.
"Be gone from here, usurper, you are far from welcome in this sacred place!" she snarled, and gestured to a door behind her. It opened, and out charged five mechanical constructs, their eyes glowing eerily.
Without hesitation, they rushed the commandos, who promptly returned fire. However, armored as they were, the Eco bolts did far less damage than they could have, and the first few were cut down with relative ease.
One came at the Baron, who threw down his rifle and drew his sword, catching his opponent's as it came in to try and cut him in half at the waist. He spun then, and tried to get it in the head with a kick, but it brought its shield up in time to block, though there was a nice, boot shaped impression left in it after that particular move. It also had the added effect of throwing the machina construct off balance, opening up a rather large hole in its defenses. Quickly taking advantage of this, Praxis thrust his blade forward, felt resistance as it pierced the metal armor of his foe, and then twisted, tearing open a massive hole in the machine.
As it fell, wires sparking and emitting some kind of electronic death cry, he looked about. There were only three of them left, as a well placed grenade from Errol had gotten another one, but almost a dozen of his best men lay in pools of their own blood at the hands of these robotic warriors.
And then, to top things off, the very weapon he'd tried to create came charging out of the door these things had, the blade of Mar cocked back behind him. There was also another elf with him, clad in some kind of light ballistics armor, and that strange little rat that always seemed to be hanging out with him. The dark elf's eyes rested upon him, and he knew, in that instant, that if he didn't play his trump card, everything was going to head down the crapper.
He ripped a comm. unit from his belt, and held it up for all to see.
"Enough of this!" he shouted, his voice one of someone holding all the cards.
For an instant, the fighting did indeed cease, and everyone and everything looked at him. The tyrant smiled grimly, and stared straight at the trio, making certain that they saw what he was holding.
"Now that I have your attention, Jak," he said, his voice calmer now, "I'm going to ask once, very nicely, for you to fork over the Precursor Stone and surrender yourselves."
"And if we refuse?" Jak snarled, knowing all to well what fate probably awaited him in the event of capture.
"Then I give a command, and a certain six year old heir to the throne will soon find himself with his dearly departed parents!" Praxis retorted, a smirk on his face.
Not an hour ago, the dark elf would have tried his luck anyway, probably damning them all. Now though, no longer consumed by the hatred that had driven him for so long, he knew he couldn't do it, couldn't risk that happening. And so, he released his grip upon Kitetsu, and let the blade hit the ground. He then reached into his pocket and withdrew the Stone, placing it next to the blade. The Baron nodded for Keira to do the same, and she gently placed her morph gun to the ground, which was followed by her gauntlets. Then, the trio backed away from their weapons.
Errol and a few commandos stepped forward to retrieve them, not wanting to take any chances. However, the Commander had an unnerving gleam in his eyes when he looked at Keira, realizing that this girl had played him the whole time. His face twisted into a snarl as he pondered the full possibilities of her connections to the resistance, and of what she could have provided them with. He kept his mouth shut in regards to her for the moment, but swore to himself that she'd pay dearly for what she had done. No one double crossed him…no one.
Sentinel watched all the while, utterly helpless to intervene. Its programming forbade it from taking a course of action that could bring harm to one of Mar's lineage, unless of course, they were in the trials. Unfortunately, its logic processors were also going haywire, as due to its calculations, a course of inaction would result in an ninety five percent chance of Mar's descendant coming to harm anyway. What this caused was a paradoxal programming conflict that nearly sent it into a computer equivalent of a nervous breakdown. The end result was for it to shut down all nonessential functions, and to retreat back to its central processing hub in an attempt to stop the chain reaction before any permanent damage occurred.
This caused the robotic guards to cease functioning, and the hologram faded. Still, even as it was attempting to salvage what parts of itself that it could, it was able to keep a single observation camera pinned on the confrontation, and watched the event unfold.
Errol turned to face Jak, that sadistic glint returning to his eye.
"I'm so glad you're coming back with us, Eco Freak," he said, smiling evilly, "we've got something special planned for you now."
He snapped his fingers, and a yellow armored soldier stepped in, delivering a blow to the back of the former Channeler's head that caused a sickening crack. However, while the blow drove him to his knees, he was still conscious. Another such attack put him down on his hands, but he still stared up in defiance at his nemesis, until a third finally put him down for the count.
Smirking, he motioned for the man to cart the dark elf off, while another stepped forward to handcuff Keira. Once more, images played through his mind, and he wondered what he could do to pay her back for her treachery. However, he did not miss the burning hatred that had sprung into her eyes when he'd order Jak rendered docile for transport. He concluded that she'd been a very good actor to have fooled the likes of him for so long, and she'd certainly have a lot of fight in her. That was so much the better, he liked it when they struggled.
And so, they marched out, Daxter at gunpoint, as they didn't make restraints in his size.
Still attempting to repair itself, Sentinel paused for a single cycle, a thought running through its circuits.
Is this what you meant, Praetor Tarath, when you said that we would have to fail in order to succeed?
For the most part, everything in the entryway was secure, except for that old elf practically begging for them not to rip away his walking stick. Finally, the Commander snapped.
"Let him keep the damn staff!" he shouted to the commandos. "But, if he gives you one ounce of trouble, I want you to take that thing and beat him over the head with it until it breaks!"
"His head or his staff, Sir?" one of them inquired with a chuckle.
"Does it look like I care which one?" Errol roared, throwing his hands into the air. "Let's just get out of here and back to the base before that freak wakes back up!"
Snickering, the two commandos encouraged the elderly Kor to keep moving by prodding him with the business ends of their guns. Muttering under his breath, the elf complied, but he vowed that when the time was right, that he'd show them just what this 'feeble old elf' was capable of doing.
And so, in three shifts, everyone was back up on the elevator, and out on the surface, where the sun indicated that it was late afternoon.
The constant tormenting of a certain ex-Delta left little to the imagination as to who had sold them out, and for a while, Keira had entertained some various fantasies of some rather intensive harm to him. But, once the remark had been made by Praxis as to why he had done what he'd done, earning the tyrant a death glare from the tattooed soldier, she'd let it go, opting to figure out how they were going to get out of this one.
It was then that something happened that set into motion events that would wind up changing a great many things. There was a feeble grunt, and looking back, the aqua haired elf saw one of the commandos shove Kor to the ground. However, as he went to try and get back up, as they hadn't bothered with handcuffs, thinking him incapable of being much of a threat, he went and proved them wrong.
The soldier on his left didn't even have time to cry out in surprise as Kor, who looked to the world as if he was pushing eighty five, suddenly leapt up and spun around, brining the knotted end of his walking staff into the elf's face, effectively bashing it in. As his comrade stood there, his brain trying to process what had just happened, he too was given a first hand introduction to the impromptu, and apparently quite lethal, weapon.
Finally, the commandos began to react, leveling their weapons at the old elf. However, Kor once again proved that there was apparently a whole lot more to him than what met the eyes, as he preformed a vaulting jump, complete with a full forward flip, that planted him right next to Alex's personal captors. Before the men could react, they joined their comrades in the after life, and the old elf had scooped the young prince up, and bolted into an alley way, miraculously dodging blaster fire until he managed to slip around the corner.
Errol went to make a command for them to follow, but Praxis overruled him with a gesture.
"But…" the K.G. Commander stated, before being cut off again before he could argue his case.
"My nephew is no longer needed, Errol, and he's no longer anything even vaguely resembling a threat." Praxis said with a shake of his head. "There's no need to waste resources sending people out to find him again. Right now, we need to get back to the Fortress and prepare for our next move."
And thus, with that little interruption out of the way, they once again began an orderly march towards the prison area.
What no one noticed, in the confusion that Kor had caused, was that a certain foot and a half tall rodent had taken this opportunity to make himself scarce.
And now, watching them move out of sight from the safety of the shadows, Daxter pondered his next move. He couldn't just abandon the Underground, not that he now knew exactly what Errol was capable of doing. With shudder at the thought of Jak being back in that psychopath's clutches, not to mention Keira and Tess, he headed for one place where he knew he might be able to find some help.
Delta Sixty Seven sat in his room, which was little more than a large closet in the slum apartment that he, Grim, and Mog somehow managed to get enough rent to keep. True, they got paid rather handsomely for their work, but like he'd told Jak, most of it went to fighting the Baron.
For him, it was simply a case of avenging his own failure. For Grim and Mog, he knew the conflict was very similar. There had once been a sister that had rounded out the group, but she had made her public views rather clear on then General Praxis' little power seize. Shortly thereafter, she and her entire family had disappeared, never to be seen again.
Things had happened from there, they'd met up with him, and the little trio had begun to wage their own little war against Haven's despot leader.
Right now, Jynx was cleaning his equipment, as a trip through the sewers could result in some rather bad things happening to a weapon that could result in a Murphy's Law style mishap at the worst possible moment.
That was, until he heard Grim's voice from the living room.
"Hey, Jynx, you might wanna take a look at this!"
Carefully, almost reverently placing down his DC-17, the Delta got up and walked out. What he saw surprised him. There, on the small vid-screen that had come with the apartment, was the image of a procession being led through down-town Haven City, with subtitles screaming about how the Underground resistance movement had been captured, and how things would finally become safe for the average, ordinary citizen again.
He almost breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that while the captured group was large, that it couldn't possibly have been all of them. However, that sigh was caught in his throat when he took a second look and saw someone near the head of the procession, no less than eight elite guards having their weapons trained upon him.
The tattoos, the brown, dreadlocked hair, it was him. For a moment, he was torn between shouting for joy, at the notion that his squad leader was indeed still alive and well, and screaming in rage at the image of Praxis lining him up in front of a firing squad.
In the end, he did neither, and simply let the anger manifest itself in his eyes, something that both of his comrades saw. After a few seconds of this, he did an about face, and went back into his room, leaving Grim and Mog to exchange a glance with each other.
Once back inside, he hurriedly went through prepping his weapons, checking to make certain that they were in full working order. All the while, thoughts burned through his head. For less than a day, he'd been overjoyed at the thought that he might no longer be alone, that one member of his family might have survived the coup, and now, the very same man threatened to take it away from him yet again.
It would not happen like that, he vowed. He would not leave his C.O. to rot inside that gods forsaken prison, or to be executed at the whim of that traitor.
It was about an hour later, once he'd made certain that his weapons were in immaculate condition, that he stood, and turned around. Next to his cot, was a strange, cloth covered object. Grabbing said cloth, the pyromaniac ripped it away, to reveal the gleaming gray and orange of his old Katarn Mark One battle gear. He'd long since gotten the armor cleaned up and rid it of the carbon scoring on it where enemy fire had hit, but, he'd never had the heart to put it back on, not after his failure.
Tonight, though, Praxis would learn first hand that he'd missed, not one, but two of the elite soldiers.
And so, with solemn purpose, the Delta got out of his civilian outfit, and began suiting up for the first time in more than three and half years.
Once he'd finally accomplished getting it back on, and found with a slight bit of pride that it was no tighter than it had been previously, and gotten used to moving in it again, he walked out, his DC-17, with an attached suppressor, in his left hand, and his helmet under his right. It was now right at sundown, and time for him to go into action.
The two brothers, still watching the nonstop news coverage of the Baron's 'victory' over the rebels, gave him a look, followed by a quick double take. Jynx looked at them grimly, remembering just how intimidating the Deltas had appeared when in view of the general public.
"Boss?" the mercenary asked, somewhat confused.
"I've got a brother in arms to bail out." Jynx said, his voice deadly serious. "It'll be risky at best, and I want you to do something for me, okay?"
Grim nodded, not sure what it would entail.
"If I don't establish contact with you guys within two days, I want you to assume that I'm dead or captured, and get the hell out of here." Jynx ordered, praying that this wouldn't be the last time that he saw his friends. "And look after Mog, will ya, make sure he stays out of trouble."
Grim nodded, choking up, wanting to help, but knowing deep down that this was something their leader was going to have to do on his own, then the mercenary threw his arms around his friend, and was soon joined by his brother. They pulled away after that, and Jynx put his helmet on and sealed his suit.
In that instant, Jynx the mercenary ceased to be, and Jynx the Delta rose from the ashes. Giving his buddies a sharp salute, Delta Sixty Seven pivoted about, and went out the window onto the fire escape, where he began to navigate his way through the run down slums.
Daxter arrived at the Hip-Hog, panting, sweating, and generally never having felt so exhausted in his entire life. As usual, his small size had been a two edged sword, helping him to hide and remain beneath the notice of many, but at the same time, it made trying to run from one end of the massive city to the other sheer hell. It also meant that he had to wait until someone decided to enter the sleazy pub for him to be able to get in, as his weight was insufficient to set off the trigger device that would open the door.
Finally, once that happened, he scampered into the back before someone noticed him. Daxter let out a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might have been listening once he got into the back, and found Sig cleaning his weapons.
Needless to say, the Ottsel's breathing gave his presence away to the Wastelander almost instantly, however, he was a little confused as to what the diminutive rodent was doing here, and for that matter, what he was doing here without his larger partner. It was a question that he gave voice to a few seconds later.
Over the next twenty minutes, Daxter gave a rundown of what had happened, and set a new world record for speed talking. Sig remained silent, leaving the former elf to practically hop up and down as he waited for the armored elf to come to his decision.
And what a decision it was. The enforcer knew that what Daxter was asking for him to do was something only the slightest bit short of suicide, and yet, despite what Jynx had said down in the sewers, he knew of honor and loyalty. Plus, not only was a good buddy of his about to be turned back into a lab rat, but if what the little rodent was saying was true, then it meant that some of these people had what he'd been looking for. It was that, more than anything, that caused him to come to his final decision.
"Okay, fur ball, count me in." He said, enthusiastic, even if he felt certain that he was about to walk into the jaws of Death. "One Sig styled get out of jail free card, coming up!"
With that, the Wastelander grabbed Peace Maker and some supplies, and walked out, Daxter right on his heels.
They'd been led into one of the brigs, now modified to have a lab table set up in it, just so they could all watch and hear what was about to happen to one member of their group. That had been a couple of hours ago, and they'd kept Jak in solitary, while Keira found herself in a cell with Tess, Torn, and the Shadow. Ashelin had been in there already, having been put into the cell the very moment that Torn had triggered the homing beacon.
Praxis' daughter had seen the look on his face when the Underground commander had been placed in, the commandos keeping their weapons on him at all times, taking no chances. After all, many of these soldiers had served during the coup, and they doubtless knew what he was capable of doing, given half a chance. Nonetheless, Torn looked…defeated…as if all the things that had happened to him had once more come crashing down upon his shoulders.
He'd sold out his comrades, betrayed just about any hope of them ever overthrowing her father, and probably gotten himself lined up for execution…and all because of her…because she'd gotten careless, because she'd messed up.
What she didn't realize, was that he felt the same way.
"You should really stop being so hard on yourself, Torn." came a voice from the rear of the cell, and everyone looked and gasped, particularly the Shadow.
After all, it wasn't everyday you suddenly came face to face with someone who looked exactly like you other than the fact that that person was about a good twenty or so years older.
Keira stood stunned, seeing her beloved old man for the first time in three years. He was a bit thin, probably due to the prison food not being anything worth noting, but right down to the log through his unkempt hair, and the strange wooden shoes that he was ever so fond of, he was the same. Snapping out of her revere, she bolted forward, and embraced him, forgetting about the entire situation for the moment.
"I've missed you too, Keira." he said, the usual harshness in his voice gone for once.
And then, he broke away from his daughter's embrace, and made his way over to Torn, whose eyes, like just about everyone else present, were darting back and forth between the Shadow and this apparently aged copy of him.
"Don't worry about what you did, son," he said, placing a hand upon the ex-Delta's shoulder, "things will turn out alright, trust me."
From there, they had fallen back into silence, with Keira worrying over Jak, Tess worrying about Daxter, and Ashelin doing her best to try and help Torn out. Samos meanwhile, resigned himself to waiting. He knew what was going to happen here, in the next few hours…he wouldn't enjoy it, but he knew that it was something that would have to be done.
Jak…why had fate chosen him for this? Why was he the one who would have to go through so much?
His thoughts were cut short abruptly as the cell door opened, and Errol walked in, flanked by two commandos, with more standing outside. The Commander had a partially completed morph gun clutched in his hand. Keira cursed to herself mentally, knowing that that was one that she'd been in the process of constructing in her hidden workstation.
"Well, well, my dear," he said, glaring at her evilly, "it seems your aptitude for the mechanical goes beyond zoomers. I must admit I was rather surprised to find out that you were the source behind these accursed weapons." he paused dramatically, his eyes roaming over the blaster. "Though, truth be told, we are a little bit curious as to how these things work."
"Bite me!" she snarled, which resulted in a smirk forming upon the Commander's face.
"Careful," he said, sticking out a finger in a scolding manner, "or I'll do worse than that."
He then motioned for his two escorts to grab her, as he'd decided it would be best if she watched what happened to that freak of nature that she seemed to care about so dearly. However, as they turned to leave, the elder Samos suddenly stepped forward, his expression one of barely controlled anger.
"You're dealing with a power you cannot possibly hope to understand," he said, his voice once again harsh, "and I sincerely hope, Errol, for the sake of your conscience, provided that you have one, that none of the men you have stationed in here have families."
The Commander simply rolled his eyes, and turned about, slamming the door as he did so.
"Why did you say that?" Ashelin inquired, looking down upon him with the expression of utmost bafflement.
"Simple, young lady," Samos said, his tone grim, and filled with a commanding power, "before this day is out…they will all be dead."
They were left stunned and silent, as most believed nothing short of divine intervention was going to get them out of this jam.
Meanwhile, down on the ground floor of the cell block, the dark elf was being escorted out to where he could see a lab table that he was all too familiar with. He forced himself to repress a shudder, and his inner demon let out a slight gulp. Prodded forward by the guards, he stepped towards it, his eyes sweeping around the three tiered room. For a single instant, both the elf and his guardian devil considered switching places, but as Jak looked about, and saw just how many elites were standing around, he knew that healing powers or not, he'd be dead well before he could deal with all of them.
He also noticed Keira being led down towards his level, making the going as difficult as she possibly could. He resisted the urge to smile upon seeing her grind her heel into Errol's instep when the opportunity presented itself. However, they finally got down, and the Krimzon Guard Commander smiled fiendishly when he arrived, before breaking into some rehearsed theatrics.
"Well, let's get this show on the road, shall we?" he began, clapping his hands together a few times, and the commandos released the dark elf from his restraints, and forcefully put him on the table. "With the Precursor Stone now in our possession, the Baron has decided that we no longer have need of you." He said, in mock sadness, before perking up. "But, me being the patron of science that I am," he got a snort from both the Keira and Jak, "I've decided to satisfy a certain curiosity that I've had for a while."
"And that would be?" Jak said, knowing it was what he wanted to hear, but not wanting to have to put up with his crap any more than he had to.
"We're going to see just how much of this stuff you can take." His nemesis responded with a wicked chuckle.
Jak, despite his impending knowledge that what was going to happen was likely enough going to hurt, and quite a bit at that, still felt somewhat annoyed, and had no trouble telling Errol about it.
"I've been out of this place for more than six months," he said incredulously, "and this is the most creative thing you could think up, finishing what you started? Frankly, I'm rather insulted."
Errol, quite obviously put off by Jak's flippant attitude and the insult, went red in the face, and turned to head over to the command consol that would start the whole procedure. However, before he did, the one of the brig doors opened up, and the Baron himself walked in, Kitetsu held in his grasp.
"Commander, before you begin," he said, a strange tone in his voice that none of them could ever recall hearing, "I would like ask our friend here something."
Errol nodded, clearly upset at the notion of having to put his entertainment on hold, but not daring to disobey his superior, and stepped away from the controls. The baron walked forward, and drew the blade from its sheath, his one eye roaming over its masterful craftsmanship, from its deadly cutting edge down to the Precursor runes set into the blade.
"Tell me, Jak," he asked, staring up at the elf, "how did you manage to find this? When did you go to the Metal Head Nest?"
"Who said anything about me going to their home turf?" the dark elf replied, having seemingly resigned himself to what was about to happen to him. "I found it in Dead Town, buried in some rubble."
"Don't lie to me!" Praxis snarled instantly, his breathing ragged in his fury. "Damas fell covering our retreat at the Nest, and while I don't doubt that this thing has some strange secrets hidden in it, I don't think the ability to grow legs and walk is on that list!"
"I don't have a clue how it got there, tin head," the former Channeler replied, irritated, "I just know that's where I found it."
Praxis stared at him hard, but found that he could not see a lie within the elf's glowing blue orbs. A sudden shudder coming over him, he placed both blade and sheath down upon the consol, and suddenly turned and left, leaving Jak a little confused. It was bafflement that was shared by a good many others.
However, their thoughts were soon returned to the tyrant's sadistic right hand, as He launched into another small speech, and then promptly pressed the big red button.
Jak thought that he had prepared himself mentally, that he'd learned to block out the pain. However, Errol hadn't been kidding when he'd said that this was a literal test of just how much abuse a Channeler's body could take, and the agony surged through him as though every nerve in his body was suddenly on fire.
It took every ounce of inner strength that he'd had, not to scream, not to give his nemesis that sick pleasure.
Meanwhile, on the slum side of the Fortress, a large Wastelander moved as silently as he could through the night, an orange rodent doing his best to get used to sitting upon his armored pauldrons. Daxter had done his best to direct Sig back to where he'd snuck in those months before to bail Jak out, and thus far it had been a successful venture, that, and the K.G. patrols seemed noticeably lax, almost sloppy, during their rounds, no doubt due to them thinking that their victory over the resistance was now assured.
As much as that superiority might have grated upon Daxter's nerves, at this point, he'd take any help he could get.
And so, eventually, they arrived at the place where he'd snuck in. Sure enough, he could still see the busted grating that he'd used. For Sig, it'd be a bit of a tight fit, but he was certain that the Wastelander could squeeze through. There was one problem though.
This time, there were a pair of guards stationed right next to it. They were just regulars, and were chatting, but their eyes were still fixed upon the varying entryways to their location. Sig ducked down behind some garbage cans, contemplating his options. While a blast from Peace Maker, or his regular rifle mode, would definitely be able to take them down, it would create quite a bit of racket, something he didn't want this early in this already dicey plan of his. So, for the moment, he had little choice about what else to do other than to sit tight, and listen.
As it seemed invariably, the subject of the two sentries' conversation eventually turned towards the subject of food. Apparently, from what both the Wastelander and the Ottsel could understand, the army chow wasn't all that great.
"Man, I tell ya, I could do some serious damage to a steak right about…"
The guard never finished his sentence, and Sig thought he heard what sounded like a cough come from above his current position. It was swiftly followed by a second one, and then he heard the sound of someone hitting the ground. He looked up over the waste cans, and saw both of them lying upon the dura-crete, apparently dead.
"Rule thirty nine," came a voice from above, "never pull sentry duty in a remote location on an empty stomach."
Slowly, both Sig and Daxter looked up.
They were just in time to watch Jynx leap down from a second story fire escape, landing almost without a sound. Sig was stunned. He'd never even heard the soldier move, something that he considered rather astounding considering that the elf was now incased in a tin suit. For a moment, the all three of them simply stared at each other, and the tension was thick enough to probably have been cut with a knife. Finally, Jynx went and broke the silence.
"Look," he began, his voice distorted slightly by his speakers, "you know I don't like you very much, and I'm pretty certain that the feeling's mutual. But, right now, I got a brother in arms to save, and while I'm not sure what brings you out here, I think we'd be better off working together."
For the longest time, Sig remained silent, before he extended his hand, a gesture that Jynx accepted.
"I'm inclined to agree with you," the large Wastelander said, "and as for why I'm out here, well, call me a patriot."
They couldn't see it, but Jynx raised an eyebrow inside of his helmet, though didn't press the matter, they had more important things to attend to at the moment.
"Let me take the point," Jynx said, moving ahead up to the damaged vent, "I've got suppressed weapons."
And so, the two put their animosities aside for the moment, and, as they and several others were about to learn, made quite the formidable team.
There were six of them inside the small station, responsible for monitoring the status of the men out on patrol in the large prison. Frankly though, it was about the most boring job one could have pulled, as, with the exception of a notable few, no one had ever managed to bust out of this place.
Unfortunately, they were about to discover that there was no such standard for breaking into the prison, and that, most unfortunately, the boring part of their job description was also about to come a grinding and abrupt halt.
One of them, noticing that the patrols in the southwestern area hadn't reported in like they were supposed to, turn his head to bring it to his superior's attention, while others chattered amongst themselves. The very next second, there was a strange crack, and the door slid open of its own accord. Or so they thought.
A gray and orange clad thing suddenly rolled in, before unfurling and rising up. There was a split second of disbelief that went among them all, before they reached for their blasters. Sadly for them, though, that split second delay had been a key thing to Jynx's entry plan, and in the next instant, five muffled coughs filled the room, and just as many troopers slumped at their stations, either shot through the heart, or now having their grey matter on the floor. Only one remained, and out of panic, reached for an alarm button.
Before his hand had even gotten over it, Delta Sixty Seven had both of his submachine guns pointed at him.
"Don't, even, think about it!" he growled, walking forward and allowing Sig to enter behind him.
The Wastelander eased the door shut, reminding himself to ask the grey armored soldier in front of him the recipe for those handy little homemade door charges. He also made sure to keep his rifle pointed dead on the enemy, making certain that no funny or stupid ideas made their way into the guard's head. Jynx meanwhile, had gone over to the main computer controls, and was currently attempting to find out where Torn and the others had been placed, praying to every single deity that they weren't spread out all over the prison like he would have had them.
Unfortunately, he kept running into blocks, and other anti-intrusion protocols that had him practically wanting to blast the accursed thing.
"I wish Rachel was here." he said, hanging his head at the memory of his friend, "Computer hacking was her area of expertise."
However, while he may have found himself incapable of cracking Praxis' encryptions, he suddenly thought of a way that might not require such methods at all.
"Time for aggressive negotiations, I think." He mused to himself, turning to face the surviving guard. "Access code, now!" he snarled.
In response, the guard, who seemed to have finally summoned up a bit of a backbone, and apparently had gotten over his shock of seeing a living Delta in front of him, promptly told Jynx to go and do something to himself that was anatomically impossible. However, that did little to deter the Delta, who was now officially hell bent upon saving his squad mate.
"Let me rephrase that, then." he said, his voice eerily calm.
However, when next he spoke, it was considerably more forceful and anger filled, and he surged forward, grabbed the man around the throat, and slammed him into one of the station walls.
"Give me the Precursor damned access codes before I overload my aggression inhibitors!" he shouted, putting his DC-17 right into the elf's face for good measure.
The initial response this time, was for his hostage to lose control of certain bodily functions, before hastily coughing out an alpha-numeric code. The Delta looked back to Sig, who stepped up to the computer, and entered it. Seconds later, he was running around inside the system, and was able to successfully locate the cell block in which everyone was being held.
"Got em!" he exclaimed, that tone of excitement making its way back into his voice.
"Good." Jynx replied, before turning his blaster into a club up against the guards face, effectively putting him into a nap from which he would wake from in about six hours, with a headache so bad he wouldn't even remember his name for a while.
Delta Sixty Seven stepped over to the consol, attempting to find the fastest route to get where he wanted to go. After about two minutes, he had one memorized, and decided it best to make haste towards the cell block. However, as he went to turn around, Sig placed a hand upon his shoulder.
"One question." he said, giving Jynx a strange look as he did so, "Aggression inhibitors?"
"Our training and ways of fighting generated quite a few rumors among the rank and file." the soldier replied with a shrug. "One of the biggest ones was that we were more machine than we were flesh and blood, and I figured it couldn't hurt to play off of that."
"Well I for one," Daxter said, sticking his head out of Sig's ammo satchel, having decided it both more comfortable and safer than being upon his shoulder, "do not intend to argue with the results!"
Chuckling a bit, the Delta slipped back out the door, his two guns stuck out and ready to greet anyone who decided to try and stop him.
The pain, it was a million times worse than it had been before, scorching through him, driving him nearly mad with agony. Still, he refused to cry out, though he couldn't stop himself from thrashing about on the table to such a degree that his own agony induced spasms nearly shattered some vital internal organs.
And finally, after an unknown amount of time, it stopped. At first, he didn't care why Errol had decided to shut it down, he only felt relief that the pain had stopped, even if it was probably just for a moment. However, while he lay their panting, his eyes clenched shut in an instinctive attempt to somehow contain his suffering, he heard it, felt it. Errol hadn't turned the machine off at all. The concentrated Dark Eco, it still crackled around him, still ran its way over his body, but his batter shell would no longer absorb it.
His sociopathic nemesis was also confused, but decided to shut the machine down before anything could happen to it. After doing so, he walked around to where Jak lay, his breath still coming in ragged gasps, and stared at him long and hard, trying to figure out the answer to this mystery. All the while, Keira stood, a pair of commandos holding her arms, while her eyes screamed promises of a death that would have made the Grim Reaper himself cringe.
"Hmmm, curious," he muttered, ignoring the tech head, before shrugging his shoulders in a haphazard manner. "Oh well, we'll simply have to resume our fun at a later date."
He then turned to face Keira, and as he walked up to her, she took advantage of the fact that her feet were not restrained, and planted her knee into his gut, catching him off guard to say the least. The Commander staggered backwards, but before Keira could relish in her defiance, pain exploded through her skull as one of the yellow armored troopers planted his rifle butt into the side of her face with enough force to nearly shatter her jaw. It was followed by a similar explosion from her back, as the other command slammed his into her spine, cracking one of her vertebrae. She hit the ground, a soft groan coming from her as she tried to pick herself back up.
"I suggest," Errol snarled, leaning down in close to her, "that for your own sake, you start to be a little more cooperative!" he then added, with his tone being the living definition of menacing. "The Baron wants to know how you're creating your weapons, and has authorized me to get that secret out of you through any means necessary!"
In the next instant, several things happened. First, there was a sharp crack, and the seal on the cellblock door was forcefully removed, followed by a blinding flash and about one hundred and eighty decibels of noise suddenly filling the room. The next was of Jynx, Sig, and Daxter storming in, their guns at ready.
However, before they could take advantage of the situation, they were forced to dodge a torrent of blaster fire that came towards them, as some of the commandos had apparently been able to avert their eyes, and as he did a quick scan of the room, the Delta choked back a nervous gulp.
There were no less than a hundred and twenty of the elite troops present on the various tiers of the cell bock. Not helping, was the fact that there was not much in the way of cover to be found here.
However, before they could be cut down, something happened that caused everyone to stop what they were doing and stare towards the front of the room, their attention directed towards one particular individual.
Errol, had made a critical mistake with his threat, he had been a might bit too loud, and thus, even in his battered state, Jak had heard what he'd said, and knew of the implications. The result was for something within him, and his alter ego, to quite effectively snap. This resulted in a roar that split the air, a cry that could not have come from any elf, or for that matter, anything seemingly natural.
Errol looked back, and stared at the dark elf long and hard, gasping when Jak suddenly picked his head up, and opened his eyes, another fury laced growl making its way from his throat.
&
Once again, I apologize if this chapter was cliched, corney, or just sucked in general. Hopefully, the next chapter will be somewhat better, as I think you can all figure out what happens in that one, and I've actually been trying to get the details down on that one since before I even had this story posted.
Along similar notes, if anyone has an idea about a dark power that they would like to see D.J. ver. 2.0 unleash upon anyone stupid enough to go up against him, please let me know. I've got about four or five in mind, but more will likely be needed, as I will need diversity for what I have planned. Also, feel free to give me any ideas about some thing's you'd like to see Kitetsu be capable of.
On a final note, feel free to leave a comment, and idea or suggestion (begging on hands and knees for those), or even a flame if you feel like it. Also, remember to have a great day.