NHey all! It seems like this chapter took forever to write. Maybe not. Anyway, here it is! Oh, and the humorous scene between Kiera and her father, well, I made an allusion to Mr. B (favorite new story word, meaning a hint ;D), see if you can figure it out. Well, if you think about it, this whole sequel is an allusion... on with the story!
Disclaimer: One day, when I'm rich, I'm gonna own ND and come back and say I do own the Jak universe. But until then, I don't.
So Sick
Chapter 2
Shot to the Heart and You're to Blame...
"Dear, why aren't you eating anything?"
Kiera looked up from her half eaten bagel to her likewise green father. They sat at the round oak table in their kitchen, eating breakfast and chatting as only a father and daughter can. She hadn't noticed she wasn't really eating until he'd pointed it out. She was in a very good mood and always had trouble eating when she was excited. Which she was. About a certain appointment she had scheduled for eleven o'clock. And nervous too.
What if she screwed up? What if she shot some one on accident? What if she was horrible? What if he laughed at her?
That last question plagued her the most. In the back of her mind she knew he wouldn't laugh at her, but he'd most likely be disappointed in her if she messed this up. That was what she truly couldn't bear. He was taking his time to teach her, the least she could do was learn it and make him proud. If she could.
"I'm eating," she told him, taking a small bite of the unappealing bread to prove it.
"You're not on one of the idiotic diets are you?" the green sage said alarmedly. "Precursors, you are aren't you!"
"Daddy, I'm not–"
"Sweety, you don't need to lose any weight, you're perfectly thin! Just because you bust size had increased–"
"Dad! 1. I am not on a diet! And 2. How the heck did you know my bra size went up?"
"Well, Kiera dear, I do wash all the laundry, and I'm your father; I can tell these things. And it's perfectly natural! You're still seventeen and can still grow at this age. But don't get me off topic? Do you promise me you're not on a diet?"
"Yes, daddy, I swear I'm not on one!" she said, slapping a hand against her forehead in embarrassment. She prayed he hadn't said anything to anyone about her larger cup size. But knowing him...
"And I'm just not all that hungry today," she continued, still debating whether or not he'd told anyone. Probably the old lady in the flat next door, but she didn't talk to anyone but her fourteen cataries. Maybe she was safe.
"Well, I do trust you, and you aren't overly insecure about yourself."
"Of course daddy. Now, you didn't tell anyone about that whole bra thing did you?" she asked him anxiously.
"Well, as a matter of fact..."
/t/
Torn looked at his watch and scowled. 00:53:64 seconds. His grandmother could've sprint a quarter mile faster than that!
"Aten-hut!"
The exhausted men winced. Their commander was in a foul mood.
"That was pathetic men! It took you over fifty-three seconds to run that! How do you expect to be able to catch the person you're after if you can't outrun them? It's not all about gun handling, you need to be in excellent physical condition as well," the tattooed man told them. Then, in a much more congenial voice, continued.
"Tomorrow is an endurance day. Those that have trouble with speed may find this easier, since it's not about how fast but how far and how long. Jog one lap and then you can head up to the dining hall."
Some of the men exchanged glances. Many of them were worried about the commander. He just wasn't himself lately and looked pretty depressed and surly. Something had to have happened in his, exceedingly private, personal life.
Said introvert walked to his office in the barracks as soon as he assigned the lap. His men were right in thinking something personal had happened. The previous evening, there had been a meeting for all the really important people in government, meaning Ashelin was there. they didn't speak, outside of business, and he actually wasn't feeling like shit by the end of it. Then Jak walked in.
Ashelin was busy with a few guys from the economics department, so he and Jak talked for a minute. And, believe it or not, they were perfectly friendly. They harbored no bad feeling towards each other, really; what happened a month ago was forgiven, and Torn held no contempt for the new couple. So, they were getting along fine when Ashelin decided to saunter over.
She, being the wonderfully thoughtful person she was, gave her boyfriend a big kiss when he was in range. Then she informed Torn about how Jak was there to take her our on a date and whisked the blonde hero, who threw an apologetic glance at him, out of the room.
It was a good thing he had an expert poker face, because he didn't need her to know how badly he wished he could drown himself in the fish tank.
Instead, he chose to jog a few laps on the same track he'd order his men to run on the following morning. It was dark by then and he had no spectators of his self abuse besides the faint stars peeking out from behind the smog. He knew it wasn't his fault; Ashelin was just being a contemptuous bitch and wanted to make him jealous. Only it didn't make him jealous, it made him miserable. He knew he shouldn't care, so he punished himself in return. Or in this case, his men.
He again scowled down at his watch. And his spirits lifted; it was 7:56 a.m. only three more hours until eleven. Then he'd get to see Kiera again.
At the current time, she seemed like the only person worth talking to. It might have sounded harsh to all the other people he was around on a daily basis, but it was how he felt. She was smart and funny, and wasn't the innocent, demur girl she appeared to be. Kiera was a strong girl and he respected that. Not to mention she was undeniable beautiful.
'Too bad she's only seventeen, huh?'
'Oh crud, not you again!'
'What's the big deal? You've even said she was mature (and not just emotionally, eh?)'
'How many times must I tell you, you perv, she's underage!'
'What's your excuse for not popping her hood gonna be when she turns eighteen? That won't be long from now, you know.'
'Um, well...'
'Ha! You can't think of one can you, Conscience? Next birthday we'll be able to–'
'Will you both can it, we have work to do!'
/k/
Kiera was starting to fidget now. It was 10:46 am, meaning she four minutes left before she had to head on over to the gun course, and she was anxious to get out of the garage, which was unusually stuffy that day. She glanced over to the shiny hub cap she had mounted on the wall for the fifth time that minute. Its gleaming surface provided a make shift mirror for her to preen in. Not that she was preening. Much.
Okay, so she wanted to look good, sue her. Or at least clean, owing to the multitude of times she'd scrubbed her palms and scanned her pale face for any trace of the grease she worked with daily. And smell good, as a matter of fact. Obviously a girl can't be oil scented, so she believed a spritz of her favorite fruity perfume was in order.
She glanced down at her watch again: 10:49 am. One more minute. She wanted to see Torn badly. There was something about the guy, his whole persona, she found highly attractive. She adored how shy he got around her and how surprisingly funny he could be when he wanted. He was quiet and contemplative; jokey and sarcastic; tall and thin; hott and husky. He just came off as a grumpy tough guy with tattoos and dreads.
10:50 am. She raised her arms, looked up to the heavens, and exclaimed, "Thank you!" in a rather loud voice. Then of course, she realized where she was and looked sheepishly around for anyone who might have witnessed that. Fortunately for the question of her sanity, the only person around was her nutty next door neighbor, who was walking past the garage with four cataries trailing her. The old woman took absolutely no notice of her, so Kiera hopped onto her zoomer and took off. She sped down the mercifully uncrowded streets, loving the feeling of the wind through her hair.
Kiera arrived in front of her destination with four minutes to spare. She was curious as to what Torn would be teaching her. Obviously how to use a gun, but which one? Oh, there he was. She reminded herself not to get distracted by the many qualities he possessed that turned her into a, well, mindless, drooling lust zombie. She needed to learn this stuff and get good at it! She needed to shove it in those skanky bimbos ugly faces! She needed to...
'Oooh, he's wearing white today. His skin lookes really good in white. And his eyes look extra blue to...'
"Hey Kiera."
'That voice...'
"Hey Torn, how's it going?"
He shrugged his, rather nice might she add, shoulders, "It's all good. How about you? You ready for this?"
"Defenitely," she told him as she walked into the building, "All though, I don't promise I'll be any good at it."
"You never know," he replied, following her inside. He had to cock his head to the side a few inches to avoid smacking his head on the doorway. "A lot of guys say than and turn out to be pretty good at it."
She smelled really good today. Like fruit. Concentrate, Torn, concentrate!
The girl in speculation smirked at him. "Well commander, if you can get me to be able to shoot what I'm aiming at, you truly are the greatest military mind of our time."
Her smirk grew wider as he flushed a little at her remark. He was cute when he was flustered.
"Um, uh, any ways, first things first: you need a weapon."
He walked over to a pile of crates against the wall.
"And there just happens to be a new shipment right here," he continued while he tore open one of the crates with his bare hands. Yeah, you heard me right, with his bare hands.
Although Kiera had enjoyed this display quite a bit, she would not let her mind wander to the possibilities of what else those hands could do. She wasn't going to get distracted, remember?
"This is a light weight, high impact pistol," he said as he passed the fire arm over to her, "See, not heavy, easy to control, a good beginners gun. Now, I'll get into safety and how to take care of it later, but first I'll show you how to hold it."
He took one of his own pistols from its holster around his waist and held it up in front of him. She copied his stance the best she could and looked to him for guidance.
"Like this?" she questioned. She wanted to make it clear she was completely serious about this.
"Watch you posture," he instructed mildly. He was obviously a veteran of teaching this and knew how to handle people's egos. He stepped closer to her. Much closer. Not that she was complaining.
"Your back should be straight, but not stiff. Same with your arms. They need to be firm but shouldn't be all tense. And your shoulders," he placed his hands on them, "need to be dropped."
He pushed her shoulders down gently to the right position. Kiera was fully delighted by his 'hands on approach', but still had enough sense to listen to what he was saying through the haze of cinnamon he gave off.
Torn's brain, however, finally caught up with his hands and he removed them, his cheeks reddening slightly.
"Wait, what about my legs? Is there a specific way I need to stand?" she asked him, hoping he didn't notice the peachy-pink highlighting her cheek bones.
"Well, it depends on the person," he told her, stepping back to his original spot, "and what's the most comfortable. A lot of people get nervous and tense up when they handle a gun. The trick is to relax. Most people stand with their feet around a foot apart, though."
She tried to relax like he said, but it was hard not to get nervous when you're holding something potentially dangerous, and in front of a rather good-looking commander none the less.
"Better," he praised of her more comfortable stance, "Now you just need to learn to shoot it."
"Easier said than done."
"We'll just load it with blanks, for now any ways. Go over to that crate," he pointed to the pile of boxes, "and grab an ammo box that says 'bc77' on the side."
She obeyed and handed him the small cardboard box. He opened it up and inside were several blank cartridges. He picked two out, handed her one, and threw the box an top of a closed crate.
"This gun's really simple to load, too. Just slide open this slot: he did so to the indicated compartment, "slide in the cartridge, and turn the dial."
She did what he said with her blank. Then he nodded and continued.
"Good. Now, you can have up to ten bullets in at one time. Load the rest of the slots and then I'll show you how to aim correctly."
"This should be interesting," she said while she grabbed a box of blanks.
/jd/
Jak and Daxter cruised down the street on Jak's hover board, intent on not hitting the FL. Back when the KG was still around, they'd run over them on purpose and try to break their personal records. But alas, those days were over, the FL wasn't evil, and they didn't have the heart to hurt them. Not to mention Torn would have their heads if his men were the subjects of hit and runs.
Right now they were headed to the port for the same reason: their girl friends were driving them insane!
It all started when Daxter tried one of his 'genius' pick up lines on a girl that came into the Naughty Ottsel, and Tess over heard it. Now, for two days straight, she'd been pestering him about whether or not he found her attractive as an ottsel. Of course he did, but she wouldn't believe him and continued to ask him at the oddest moments, like when he was making a sandwich. Finally, when Jak had walked into the bar around noon, he'd begged for a ride out of there.
Jak was having just as much trouble with Ashelin. They'd started dating about two weeks earlier. And what was more was, he really did like her. Really. She'd grown on him the more they talked...but he still loved Kiera. He couldn't help but compare the two women. The only thing the red-head had an advantage in was, well, she could kick ass. But Kiera was still smarter, sweeter, funnier, prettier, even if she was a total damsel in distress.
Ashelin had other faults too, like being, for the lack of a better word, clingy as hell. He couldn't go ten feet without her demanding to know where he was going and she was constantly suspicious of him. Where was he going? Was she going to be there too? Maybe she should come along. Had she been like that with Torn too? No wonder the guy was so grumpy all the time!
Jak'd finally been able to shake her off at one of her meetings she had to attend and high tail it to the N.O. for a little Daxter time. So they decided to go check out the new gun shipments at the gun course. Maybe they could borrow a few new upgrades for the peace-maker. They were nearing the building when Daxter said, "Hey, isn't that Kiera?"
Squinting, Jak recognized the emerald coloured hair and petite frame of the girl he loved. And the tall, lean frame of his commander as well. He hopped off the board and crouched behind a parked car, not far from where the two were. They were laughing about something, he couldn't hear what, but he did hear Torn speak.
"Yeah, haha, that's never happened before in all the years I've worked with those pistols. How did you manage to get hit by a target, fall, shoot, and actually hit four other targets? And how do you get hit by a target at all? Haha, that was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life: your face as you got smacked with a cardboard cut-out civilian!" he then dissolved into laughter again.
"Oh shut up! I have almost no coordination! It was–haha It was–" she couldn't finish her sentence as she too began to laugh hysterically.
Finally, Torn wiped his eyes and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. He hid it well, but Jak could tell he'd just had another dizzy spell. He'd had about a dozen when he'd talked to them the night before. He was a good actor though.
The commanders smile came back quickly, however, and he and Kiera grinned at each other.
"Okay, so you still need a little practice, but you did better than a lot of my men did on there first try."
"You're just saying that," she said, but she was blushing.
"No, I'm not. I think you have natural talent with that thing, but like I said before, you need some more practice. And you need to not get in fights with cardboard people too," he grinned again, "How about we try this again in a couple of days, same time?"
"Sure, how about next Tuesday?"
"Sounds good to me. I'll see you then," he told her as he started the zoomer he'd came on. "Don't fall!"
"Quit making fun of me!" she yelled after him as he sped down the street. She grinned and turned back to her own zoomer, then said, "Oh crap" and ran back into the building.
Jak came out from behind the parked zoomer and exchanged a glance with Daxter. "We never heard that, got it?"
"Okay buddy," the ottsel agreed.
They took on looks of the utmost casualty and strolled towards the gun course. Kiera walked back out with her keys clutched in her small hand. She then saw the two of them and smiled, causing Jak's stomach to flip.
"Hey guys! What are you doing here?" She was happy Daxter was there with Jak; it made it easier to talk to him.
"Kiera! Well, we heard about a new shipment of guns and thought we'd check it out," Daxter answered, then casually added, "how about you? What brings you here to this place?"
"Oh, um, nothing. A guy just needed, uh, a part and I met him here." she didn't want to tell them just yet. She wanted to surprise everyone.
"Why here? He should've come to you, not the other way around," Jak added. He wanted her to tell them why she was really there. And show her he still cared.
"Nah, I needed the fresh air any ways. That garage was getting stuffy. But I still need to get back to work, so I'll talk to you guys later. See ya!" she got quickly onto her zoomer and left them in front of the building.
"I wonder what she's up to," Daxter said, "Let's go snoop around the inside and see if there's any clues about what her and Tattooed Wonder were up to!"
"I'm curious too. What's she hiding?"
/an/
Jak's snooping! what will he deduce about Kiera and Torn? You'll soon find out!
Sorry, I know nothing about guns, so I made up a lot of that stuff! And I used rather about 24 times in this chapter! Jeez!
Question: Does Torn have a last name? Seriously, I want to use it, so tell me! I could always make one up, but I was thinking 'bout having a contest for the best name! R&R!