YAY PART TWO.
Jak gets his :U
-.-.-.-.-
Loser
-.-.-.-.-
Those few quiet moments before the race were made for preparation. Jak crossed his arms over his chest, eyes dull.
"Can I count on you to win the race for us?"
Her face grew bitter, full mouth thinning. Like he was stupid to ask a question like that.
"Jak, there's no guarantee-"
"I won't win this time." His tone left no room for argument. "I need you to save this one for us."
"What the hell do you mean?"
He gave no answer.
-.-.-.-
He was driving like a bat out of hell.
"So frantic, Jak!" The voice filtered in on their personal mic, crisp and silky- pointedly delicate even as the red car tore in beside them with a vicious swerve.
Their tormentor was obvious. Daxter prayed to whatever deities favored life above death that Jak would just let it go- that whatever happened last night would NOT be enough to coax his pal off the track and into something that would definitely spell taps for them both. But Jak's thick knuckles were already pasty and cold on the wheel, eyes burning. He stiffened dangerously as the voice came rolling out again, an amused purr.
"Your form is dropping. Whatever has been done to upset you?"
Jak stayed silent, forcing the grip of those lazy words away with a stiff snort.
The agitated roar of an engine swelled behind the mic, and the corresponding car shot up into place ahead of them. Razer made an appraising sound as Jak tugged on the wheel out of instinct.
"But then, you enjoy a certain grace under pressure that I have come to admire. So strong, Jak." Daxter could almost see the long, thick yellow finger at his neatly trimmed chin. "Throughout our entire conversation last night, you never raised protest. Not a word. Curious."
Daxter felt a quickly stilled shift of Jak's eyes- a short look back at him, filled with apprehension. But the raging road still barreled on ahead of them, Razer's car gliding smoothly at their front. They entered a tunnel, the lack of a crowd rubbing a layer of pulsing silence over their lacquered cars.
"Now that could simply be your silent bearing. But rationally, with all your passivity at the time, one would think you had even come to … enjoy it."
Daxter winced as Jak ripped the mic from its holster and convulsively pressed it to his mouth.
"You better run, Razer." He hissed, voice dark and gravelly- putting Daxter in mind of pale skin and black claws.
"And if I don't?" The racer asked smoothly.
"I'll kill you." He breathed.
"Somehow I doubt that."
A sudden squeal ripped through the silent tunnel, Jak's foot forcing the gas flat to the floor- their car went slamming into Razer's fender, sending the lightweight vehicle into a quickly righted swerve.
The connection kicked back in with a snap of static and a disdainful snort– one which was satisfyingly out of breath.
"We'll talk at the finish line, liebchen." Razer snapped, speeding up with a steady hum. "Be a dear and get there in one piece, won't you?"
The mic shut off, and Jak turned back to look at Daxter, blue eyes vivid with anger, shoulders set straight.
"Anything we get, use it."
"What?" Daxter squawked, in a daze. "What if there ain't anybody on the track-"
"Just do it." Jak bent low to the wheel- an almost preparatory ripple of power stemmed from him, thin and faltering, but dangerous.
"Build up a charge."
-.-.-
The crowd was screaming, far away. The race was over. One red car screeched to a halt, its tail skidding out until it stopped neatly perpendicular with the track- but the man who struggled out of it was a mess.
Razer staggered out of his car with legs stiff as a board, broad shoulders shivering in rage. His hair was mussed, face unattractively haggard and pale- though his mouth retained that thin, haughty sneer like a bad aftertaste.
He looked around, eyes sharp and hateful, starting forward with a stifled gesture as a familiar car approached. Other racers had started to arrive in several levels of squeals, Shiv and Edje clambering dutifully out of their vehicles to flank him. The elder racer was unmindful of them, his blistering attention focused solely on the new driver.
"You tactless whore!" Razer snarled, half-screaming as the car came into range. "You nearly rammed me off the track with those stunts!"
His cigarette was smoldering on the ground at the foot of his car, but his fingers twitched as though rolling one back and forth, agitated. Jak's car swerved with intention to park, and Razer's accent became ten times thicker in rage, face paling.
"Nothing you did was legal!"
Daxter poked his head out of the top of their racer, narrowly avoiding the turret.
"Oh yeah, Posh Spice, like you've ever stuck your nose in the rulebook before!" He barked scathingly, then stuck a finger to his chin. "Wait- or did you and your crew WRITE the stupid thing?"
The Ottsel was fixed with a hateful sneer, a gloved hand squeaking neatly as Razer clenched his fist.
But the moment the car screeched into place, Daxter jerked to the side, flopping out of sight as the car gave a guttural shiver- like a great weight had left the front seat. Paranoia stirred in his gut. Daxter struggled up to see, small furry hands patting the roll bar anxiously, and immediately played witness to one of the worst scenes he'd ever imagined.
Even though he hadn't had high hopes, Jak was already good and gone.
Jak had leapt out of the seat in a furious jerk, changing even as his feet hit the floor- his clawed hands scraped the concrete within seconds, creating flimsy sparks. He tore over to the opposite group of racers on all fours, horns curling from his skull in the slipstream of his low, feral gallops. Mizo's men froze under cold, beetle-black eyes, the wraith spitting in rage.
Horrified, they watched a man become a beast.
Daxter groaned inwardly. Jak's path was unmistakable. In one straight line, he slammed into Razer with a meaty thump- the older man crumpled with a tense shout, quickly dragged under by Jak's claws.
The rest of the group dissolved in a loose, horrified circle as the rest of Dax's team pulled up, Sig ducking out of his car with a wary expression. The Ottsel spared them a glance, then went back to watching the very equivalent of a horrible car crash.
Dark had dragged Razer's kicking, twitching body into the middle of the circle and was crouched across his wide chest, thighs bloated with hard muscle. Once seated, he wasted no time- Dark punched Razer over and over, a pained grunt following each crack. Within moments a growling Dark was beating the shit out of him, the older racer's pale face batted from side to side.
But it wasn't Dark's anger. He wasn't even using his claws, instead balling his white hands into fists, which seemed a strangely human gesture. There was a concentration there that the bloodthirsty side of Jak never had- cold, radiating hatred, yes, but this wasn't impersonal. He had a target, and for a reason.
That wasn't Dark's anger. That was Jak; pure Jak.
Yanking Razer upward by the lapels of his jacket, Jak punched him in short, vicious strikes until his handsome mouth became wet with blood, then roared in his face, baring a mouthful of crisp, pointed fangs. Razer's arms wind milled brokenly, juggled between forcing the monster off of him and attempting to drag himself away. Jak snapped and crackled with eco, bright strands squirming off of him with hissing sounds as he dug his fingernails into Razer's neck and slammed his head into the cold concrete. Razer's emerald eyes rolled sluggishly back in his head, and Jak, with an air of finality, stepped off of him- then lifted him under the arms and bodily tossed him away.
The older racer skidded sloppily as he hit, scrambling dazedly into a broad red ball a few feet away, undulating in panic. By now all of Jak's team was out of their cars, staring at the crouching, heaving nightmare that was their lead racer.
Silence lay heavy on the track, the winner of the engagement obvious.
Even Razer's own team seemed reluctant to touch him. After several minutes of skirting around him, Edje and Shiv took hold of Razer and helped him upright with ginger fingers and thin mouths- he was soon slumped against the side of his car, holding a stiff hand to his nose. Toxic yellow was dipped in a rusty orange, hands shaking as he fixed Jak with wild dry eyes, blood flowing steadily from under his fingers.
"D-du… bist ein tier." He breathed, voice thick with pain.
Sparking, Jak hissed out the rest of the dark eco in a rancid growl- it rattled in his chest then spewed out, low and threatening.
Hastily animated, Razer stumbled up, wrenched open his car door with wet hands and threw himself in. He cast one terrified glance back at Jak before gunning down the track, plunging them into an oily cloud of burnt rubber. The rest of Mizo's team, trading quick, wary glances, followed. Only Edje stayed behind, trading ugly glares with Jak's company even as his teammates tore down the track. His tattooed fist trembled, jaw twitching in rage.
"Mizo'll get you for this, freak." He promised, gritting his teeth- but his engine let out a throaty roar as he too retreated, leaving the track empty.
Jak remained crouched in place for several more moments, dark horns nestled in his jagged hair, before beginning to writhe heatedly. Skin soon flushed with new color, a stiff groan signaled his return to humanity. But he made no move to get up.
As soon as she was certain his alter ego had retreated, Ashelin stepped towards Jak on the empty road, boot scraping loudly in the silence.
"What the hell was-"
"Shh, sh."
She turned back, affronted, red mouth turning angry.
"Daxter-!"
"He deserved it." The Ottsel said firmly, lips pressed tightly together.
Somehow the simplicity of the Ottsel's words seemed to rein in Jak's team, close their open mouths and insert a profound unease into their guts.
"That fruitcake deserved every swat. He's damn lucky he got away with his neck."
As products of Daxter's efforts, the most inquiry Jak received was a stiff nod from Sig as he came back to the group, face a sickly shade of grey. All shapes and sizes of eyes watched him warily as he seemed to teeter, gulping thickly, and then right himself.
When he passed out a second later, Sig's thick arms shot out to catch him.
At least they'd won the race.