**REVISED CHAPTER**
Jak and Daxter (c) Naughty Dog
Cry Of The Wolf
Chapter 9 – The Capture
"What the hell is that?!" Daxter cried, horrified, as he stared at the gash on Torn's shin. Torn staggered past him without a word and entered the Naughty Ottsel. Daxter raised a concerned eyebrow and followed him inside, locking the door behind him in case Jak returned for round two. He turned around to face Torn, whom was looking frantically through a first-aid box.
"Damn! He must have the last bandage," Torn growled, collapsing on a nearby stool with a wince. Daxter scurried over to him and leapt up on the bench. He looked up at Torn's pained expression.
"You know, you can always just use a cloth or something," Daxter suggested, his eyes falling to the bloody mess on Torn's left leg.
"Yeah, sounds all right. Hand me one, will ya?" Torn asked as he unstrapped the leather band below his knee and gingerly rolled down the bloody, ripped material covering his boot. Next he gripped the shredded pants leg and with a fierce determination, tore a large enough hole in it to expose the slashed flesh.
Daxter opened up the cupboards behind the counter and rummaged around before finding an old, disused cloth. He held it tightly in his hand, and jumping back onto the counter, he tossed it to Torn. The Ottsel took a quick glance down at Torn's leg and saw something that made the bile rise in his throat.
"That looks bad!" he shrieked, staring down at visible bone through the shredded skin.
"Looks can be deceiving. Besides, I've had worse," was the strained reply Daxter got. All he could do was stare in repulsion as Torn clumsily wiped it clean, before his brain decided to function again.
"He didn't bite ya, did he?" he asked. Torn looked up and tossed the bloody cloth at Daxter.
"Wash it, will you?" Daxter rolled his eyes and held the cloth under cold water, rinsing it free from blood.
When he had cleaned it he threw it back, where it was impatiently placed back on Torn's leg and held down. "Well, did he bite ya?" Daxter repeated, crossing his arms in an irritated fashion.
"Nah, he just clawed me," Torn answered, looking up at the Ottsel.
"Well that's a relief! Jak was bitten, and look what happened to him!" Daxter said, sagging his shoulders. Torn furrowed his brow and lowered his gaze back to the wound, checking to see whether the bleeding had been staunched.
"Listen, I don't know what happened to him, or why he changed tonight. Maybe it was something to do with the night or the moon or something," Torn suggested, pulling up and reattaching his spat before getting unsteadily to his feet and tossing the cloth into the sink. Daxter reproachfully watched him as he approached the table and entered a few commands into the control panel.
Next thing he knew, a hologram of a guard's head had appeared in the centre. "Yes, Commander Torn? How may I assist?" the guard asked, eyeing the leader who was now leaning heavily on the table.
"Yes Captain, I want you to gather some of your finest men to go hunting" he replied through gritted teeth, taking a quick glance at Daxter whose jaw had visibly dropped.
"Pardon, Sir?" the guard asked, making sure he'd heard correctly.
"There is a large, flying vulwolf somewhere in the City. I want a squad to hunt and capture it. I order you to take it to the Fortress, alive. Do you read me? Alive. Do whatever it takes to bring it in. Oh, and don't let it bite ya," Torn ordered boldly. The guard's head nodded his understanding, and Torn sent one more request out. "Send Klyde to the Fortress too. I require him." Flicking the hologram off, Torn's shoulders sagged from the effort and he turned to Daxter, sniggering when he saw his shocked mug.
"Do what ever it takes?! Torn, he's still Jak ya know! Even if he has got grey fur and wings!" Daxter said, breathing hard to control himself. Torn grunted and removed the red strip of cloth from around his left arm. Moving slowly over to a booth, he sat down and wrapped it around his leg, cursing now and again.
"Look, Daxter, if you want him to be found out by the public and kicked outta Haven City, then fine. But I for one don't want to lose our best man! Think what'll happen when Jak changes back to normal and people on the street witness it. They'll kill him on site, or worse, banish him to the Wasteland," Torn snarled, meeting Daxter's gaze once he'd finished securing the temporary bandage.
Daxter fell silent and lowered his face. For some odd reason, he blamed himself. He blamed himself for the whole vulwolf bite, the fact that they'd stayed out so late, and especially that he hadn't trusted Jak when he'd told him to run. He sighed heavily and collapsed on the bench, feeling deflated.
"Daxter, I'm going out to help my men. I want you to stay here and don't even think of following me. Do I make myself clear?" Torn cautioned, standing up and affirming the dagger on his back was secure. Once satisfied, he limped over to the door.
"Torn, I don't think you're in any way to go chasing after Jak, who is more than two times the size of ya!" the Ottsel yelled at Torn's receding back.
"Look Daxter, just keep your mouth shut, guard this place with your life, and don't tell me I'm in no way of confronting Jak. I've told you once before, I've had worse," Torn replied, before limping out of the Naughty Ottsel and onto the darkened streets. Daxter watched his slight limp when he walked and wished that for once he'd let his badass attitude go and listen to him. It was for his own good.
Torn left the Naughty Ottsel quickly. He wanted no more bad-mouthing from Daxter, and finding Jak was his main priority at the moment. He tried to remember the last place he saw Jak heading, but was met with the terrible memory of claws meeting flesh. He reflexively looked down at his leg upon thinking of this. It was indeed bad, but the way Daxter carried on about it, gave him the resolve of never giving into the pain. 'Especially the sort that Jak gives me,' he thought with a snicker.
How many more messes the boy could get into was a mystery to the Freedom League Commander. He'd wished that maybe for once Jak would look out for himself. Torn dropped the trail of thought when he rested his eyes on his blue cruiser parked a few yards away from the bar entrance.
"Torn, let me come with you!"
Torn momentarily startled and looked around to see Daxter standing behind him, his arms crossed. "I told you to stay inside!" he snapped, glaring at the Ottsel. Daxter tapped a foot impatiently, none too pleased with the brush-off.
"Look, you! Jak is my best friend! How can I trust you won't kill him?" Daxter said, furry fingers tapping threateningly against his crossed arms. Torn growled and swung his injured leg over the zoomer seat.
"Daxter, I promise I won't kill him, or hurt 'im in anyway. You have my word. You're forgettin' how much I value Jak. He's a good fighter, perhaps the best, and my friend too. Just go inside and I'll be back by morning," Torn replied, placing his weight down on the seat and starting up the engine. Daxter looked up at Torn, giving him puppy-dog eyes. Torn just shook his head and pushed his cruiser forward.
He took one last glance at the Ottsel's sagging form, before squeezing his legs against the zoomer and turning the handlebars around. He felt the chilly air ripple through his dreadlocks and could see the reflection of the bright moon on the Port's surface. It would have been a magnificent sight had it not been for the occasion. The cruiser sped almost silently through the air; only the diminutive purring of the engine could be heard.
Torn pulled into the Industrial Section and followed the path leading to the Bazaar. He wasn't sure where Jak currently was, but he kept his senses alert for the slightest hint as to where he'd find him. His guards were usually successful when tracking down misfits, but a vulwolf would probably be a different story. That's why he'd had to come; to save Jak.
He hadn't been driving for long, when a loud, infuriated howl erupted somewhere near the Bazaar. Torn took no time in thinking; he just pushed his cruiser to maximum speed and headed in the direction of the howl. He arrived in very little time and darted his eyes around the dark streets. He could hear yelling from either citizens or his men, and the growling of what he assumed used to be Jak.
'Don't worry, Jak, I'll get to ya,' he thought anxiously, leaning to the side to take a sharp turn. He could see a group of Freedom Fighters enclosed around something in the distance; he knew it was Jak, and hoped they hadn't killed him. Stopping his cruiser a few yards away, Torn leapt off quickly, temporarily forgetting about his leg. When he landed, pain shot up his limb, but he forced himself to ignore it. A little pain could be forgotten about for the moment; helping out a friend and saving them from death was more important.
"Hold up!" Torn yelled, pulling out one of his pistols and loading it with fresh ammunition. He reached the guards and pushed them out of his way. Gazing down, he saw Jak lying unconscious on the ground.
