Disclaimer: I do not own the Jak game series. If I did, I'd be making the next game, not a fanfic. Do the math.
In Love and War
Chapter 1
Spargus City. Normally, a good place to go for rare guns, a good vehicle, or just to relax. It was also a place of crime. Mat knew this as he sat in the small house, smoking a cigarette. A Magni-Holster was strapped to his left leg, and sitting next to him was a machine gun (imagine a Tommy-Gun, only all the metal parts are platinum). Some magazines of ammo also sat near him (also platinum), stacked on top of an open crate, which held more ammo. He wore a shoulder holster, (which was set up for a left-hand draw) the strap feeling more natural than the shirt sticking to his sweaty chest. He was spinning his handgun on a finger of his left hand. Some would call him a geek because of the wire glasses over his storm cloud-grey eyes. But they'd only do it once, and then they might not ever even talk again. Mat was a detective, a Pinkerton to be specific. Yes, the name of the company did sound weird. But the men that were in the employment of the agency were more like mercenaries. But the Boss was smarter than that. He didn't just hire muscle; he hired 'smart' muscle. Mat, unfortunately, didn't fall into the muscle category. In fact, he barely passed the age requirement of eighteen. But he'd been hired because he could think without getting a headache, and because he had an itchy trigger and a fast hand. The other members of his squad were sitting around, smoking and playing cards. Their guns were loaded and they were ready to go. All they needed was the signal. They'd been tracking a smuggler from Kras City, to Haven, and now, they had him cornered here in Spargus. Now, they were going to take him down. Now if Mat could get over his damn impatience…Suddenly, three squawks on the Talkie alerted him, and he grabbed it, fastening it to his belt, saying "Alright boys, this is it. He's coming." Now, normally a kid wouldn't be heard calling a group of grown men 'boys', but Mat was highly respected. After all, he'd slaughtered the record three times on the Pinkerton's private Gun Course. They all started pulling on long trench coats. Insane in this heat, yes, but effective for hiding the Magni-Holsters strapped to all their legs. His men had rifles, though. Only he had a machine gun because he'd purchased it. They all donned floppy cowboy hats, except for Mat, who slapped a sailor's hat onto his head, (Not the 'Pop-eye' kinda sailor hat, more like 1930's freighter sailor. Sorry, I LOVE the 1930's.) and picked up their guns and ammo. Walking out the door, they all looked like gunslingers, which they were. They all had shoulder holsters, so their pistols were also concealed. All the better to get the jump on someone. As they approached the target area, Mat began to think of what they would do. Would they spread out and surround the criminal lord, or just open fire. Before he got his chance, however, he walked around the corner, and was met with a gun barrel. There he stood, Arlen Paxton, a dark skinned man in his early forties, pointing a shotgun into Mat's face. One shot, and his head would be no more. Paxton grinned and pointed to a body behind him. It was the spy that Mat had sent after Paxton to find him. "You didn't I wouldn't have found your man, did you? We decided to come here, as his orders said, and find out how many of you were sent after us." It was only then that Mat saw the eight or nine other thugs standing behind Paxton, pointing their rifles at the Pinkerton squad. Mat's squad numbered about six men, no more. And they were obviously not going to get out of this alive. 'Oh Mar', he silently prayed, 'If there's anything I have to do to pay you back for getting out of this, I wouldn't think twice about doing it.' Mat wasn't very religious, but he never actually expected it to work. It was more of a reflex thing. But apparently, someone up there liked him. With a yell, a Pinkerton Agent leapt from the roof of a building, landing on Paxton, giving the rest of the Pinkertons time to draw. Shots rang out as all the gunmen dove for cover. Mat blasted two or three in the back with his machine gun before a bullet in the dirt two inches from him told him to take cover. As the shots echoed and the curses and yelled flew with the bullets, civilians fled, and wastelanders backed off, obviously not trying to get involved with this. Mat reloaded, throwing away another empty magazine. This was serious. Now they'd only have a slight chance of getting Paxton, and they were already running low on ammo. Only one thing to do. Mat reached into his pocket and pulled out two grenades. Pressing the buttons, he threw them into the street. They exploded, and smoke began to hiss out of them. Paxton, realizing what was happening, shouted "INTO THAT HOUSE, NOW!" The Pinkertons used the smoke as cover and started crossing the avenue while Paxton and his gang ducked into a house, shutting the door behind them. Mat motioned to the door and shouted "Price! Get that goddamned door open!" The man followed orders and ran up to the door and kicked it once, and when he was about to kick it again- BOOM! A shot, more like an explosion, blew through the door, knocking Price off his feet. Paxton had blown a hole in the door with his shotgun. There was no point checking Price. Not even the bulletproof vest he wore would've saved him. All the other Pinkerton Agents scrambled off to the sides, firing random shots over their shoulders, which only wasted their ammo. Mat crouched next to the door and waited. He could hear footsteps inside, scrambling up the stairs to the second floor. Realizing what they were up to, Mat kicked down what remained of the door, and started firing. Two more thugs fell. One because of the man's falling off the stairs and landing on his own knife, and two because Paxton grabbed one of the men and used him as a shield. Typical gang lord. Mat kicked the body out of the way and followed Paxton up the stairs to the balcony. It wasn't very high up, no more than a few yards. Paxton was scrambling onto the next house. Perfect. Mat smiled, slightly, and pulled a flare gun out of his pocket. Pointing it up, he glanced at Paxton and whispered "Sayonara." He fired. The flare, bright green, flew up and exploded. Instantly, four riders on leapers came bounding down the street. They instantly dismounted and pulled guns, aiming at Paxton, who had frozen. But it wasn't the Pinkerton riders he was concerned with. It was the Pinkerton air train in front of him that he was worked up about. It had its laser sights trained on Paxton chest, and Pinkertons were climbing out of the yellow vehicle, also training their guns on him. A Sand Shark pulled up behind Mat, and the driver and passenger climbed out, making sure Paxton was in sight. Mat's squad came up behind the car and fixed scopes onto their guns. Paxton tried to run back along the top of the building, but suddenly, Mat was behind him, poking his machine gun into his chest. Paxton raised his hands in surrender-then smiled. No seriously. Smiled. He whistled…and an explosion rocked the ground as the Sand Shark blew up, killing the drivers and sending the sniper teams' bodies flying. Another explosion, and then another, as the air train took a hit and crashed, killing the squad beneath it. The riders scrambled onto their mounts just as a burst of machine gun fire sounded, filling them with more plasma than a thirty volt force field. Mat was dumbstruck. But not too much to not fire. Unfortunately, Paxton was escaping, clambering over the side of the building and into…a desert camouflage Hellcat. Mat began to run. His strike force was dead, and he would be too, if he didn't escape. More bullets whizzed past him, some striking the ground, some going nowhere. Suddenly, a searing pain tore into his leg, but he kept running. He jumped off the building and ducked into a narrow alley. He couldn't hear the Hellcat anymore, but he kept running. Then, he burst into the garage. Without waiting, he grabbed a Dust Demon and took off. His leg was bleeding profusely, but he didn't care, he just kept on driving. And driving. And driving. Eventually, the desert began to turn into grassland, and before he knew it, he was speeding through Haven Forest. He knew what came ahead and let loose with the grenades. He barely dented the blast gate, but the G-force of the vehicle was enough to, on impact, knock a hole clean through the two foot thick steel obstruction. Of course, the vehicle took a beating, but he was safe. For the moment. Mat flew through empty air for a few seconds that seemed to last forever, thinking only one thing-'Is this the end?' Then the car crashed, upside-down, skidding along the street. Civilians ducked out of his way as the wreckage slid, spraying sparks, towards the port. (Note; Haven Forest may not lead to South Town, but I decided to make it do that for more excitement and better storyline) In his precious few seconds before he hit water, Mat's last thought was 'Mar, what did I do to deserve this? OK, so I killed some people, but that was just my job. Jak killed hundreds of the Krimzon Guard in the First War, but he did that out of pure will, and he even lived through the Second War. Please, Mar, give me one last chance.' Then, he hit water and blacked out.
Keira had decided to start closing up shop for the night. She'd work on the Zoomer with the crumpled front tomorrow. As she began to lock up, she began to reminisce upon what had happened. Jak had left her for some gun-slinging bossy-know it all, AKA, Ashelin. She'd seen them kiss. Why, was the question. Why did Jak leave her? She thought they'd had something, but now it had just fallen away. Something began bugging her. Just slightly though, so she didn't realize it for a few minutes. Then it blasted into her head. She spun around. Things were definantly NOT right. As she watched the Dust Demon screech past her towards the port, she caught a glimpse of something in the driver's seat. A person. A boy, to be exact. About her age. Something landed at her feet. She looked down to see…a hat. A sailor's hat, to be exact. She picked it up and examined it. Dust. From the desert. That meant he was either an outlaw, or a lawman. Then she heard the splash and looked up. The vehicle had hit the port. She didn't know what made her do it, but the next thing she knew she was running towards the water, and she couldn't stop herself. She jumped in, and the water engulfed her hair.
Mat drifted in and out of consciousness. He was going to die, he knew it. After serving about five months on the Pinkerton Detective Agency, after slaughtering the record three times, after surviving gunfight after gunfight, he was going to die, in the water. It was actually kind of funny. Something that had saved his life so many times in the desert was going to kill him. He had the vague memory of hearing a splash, then seeing a face, an elfin face, a girl's face. Aqua-green hair and…her eyes stood out the most. Bright green. Like his flare. The last thing he remembered was the girl grabbing his jacket.
Keira swam up, trying to break the surface, but she had never been much of a swimmer. Hell, she wasn't much of an athlete, but she had to try. Unfortunately, trying didn't seem to be getting her anywhere. She was still two yards from the surface and already her strength was leaving her. She saw red spots in her vision. At first she thought she was going down, but then realized it was blood. Blood from the boy…? Nevertheless, with one huge effort, she broke the surface and took the one breath of air that she'd never cherished more in her life. She was gasping, spluttering as she hauled the boy up onto the surface. The last thing she remembered was a blue Hellcat coming low to the surface, and Jinx reaching down to her.
(If this is good, please say good stuff. It's my first one.)