I apologize in advance for this. I don't like it as much as the last one, but the idea made me giggle. I just don't like how I wrote it… but hopefully you'll like it more than I did. See the end for the inspiration for this piece.

This is set sometime in during Jak 3.

Fanfic100 prompt #62-Spring

Honest Feedback

"Jak, I've been wondering…" Keira trailed off, glancing down the bar of the Naughty Ottsel.

Jak looked up from his own drink. "What is it?"

The girl shrugged. "It's just…you never talk about those two years…while you were in prison."

Jak frowned slightly. Noticing this, Keira quickly shook her head, gesturing with her free hand.

"Nevermind. I shouldn't have asked-" she stopped as Jak's expression softened and he raised a hand.

"It's all right. I don't mind," Jak sighed. "I just don't usually think about that time. It…wasn't pleasant."

Keira nodded.

"They did a lot of experiments on me. Dark Eco, stuff like that. You can never get used to Dark Eco, every time was just like the first, maybe worse. My veins felt like they were on fire during those sessions. Sometimes I wished I would just slip away and not wake up."

Jak took a nonchalant gulp from his drink before continuing.

"It wasn't all fun and experiments. The Krimzon Guard are pretty good when it comes to physical and psychological torture. Our old friend Errol was the worst."

"What did-?"

"Let's just say that Errol was really into 'musical theater'," Jak shuddered, resting a palm over his face.

Keira's eyebrows contracted in confusion. Three seconds later, her eyes widened abruptly in shock.

"Jak, you don't mean-?"

Jak looked back up, noticing the look on Keira's face. His own face quickly shifted from haunted to embarrassed.

"No no no! Nothing like that!" Jak waved his hands frantically in front of his face. "I mean he really liked musical theater."

Keira cocked her head to one side. "Meaning?"

"Errol considered himself something of a playwright. He would test out his songs on the prisoners to get 'honest feedback'."

Jak shook his head again. "There was that one time he sang the title song from his latest play. It was some kind of terrible homage to Baron Praxis and the Krimzon Guard."

Jak hugged himself, his eyes glazing. "I can still hear his voice…"

Jak lay strapped to a table deep in the depths of the Baron's prison, groaning. He stared straight ahead, his head held in place and unable to blink by a number of straps and hooks. In front of him, a red and silver armored man stood, his face covered by a rather frightening mask.

"All right, freak. Let me know what you think of these stanzas." Errol said silkily, flipping up his mask and revealing a look of cold concentration on his angular face. "And remember, do try to be honest."

With a flamboyant gesture, Errol began to sing.

"Springtime for Praxis and Krimzon Guards,"

Jak's eyes rolled in their sockets as he desperately tried to escape from his tormentor, who stepped lightly forward until he was next to his victim.

"Winter for Dark Eco freeeeeaks," Errol sang, emphasizing the line by flicking one of Jak's ears.

"Springtime for Praxis and Krimzon Guaaaaaaaards…"

Jak winced as Errol took a deep breath.

Come on guardsmen, go into your dance."

And dance he did. The Krimzon Guard captain tapped lightly and expertly, his boots clacking against the metal floor. He tapped lightly over to Jak's left, then planted his feet and saluted.

"I was born in the Outskirts and that is why they call me Bert."

Errol pirouetted over to Jak's other side to deliver the next line to his captive audience.

"Don't be stupid, be a smarty, come and join the Krimzon Guardy!"

So saying, Errol continued his relentless dance solo. Jak gave a silent scream as he slipped into unconsciousness, accompanied by the endless tapping of Errol's boots.

Keira stared at Jak for several seconds. "That's…horrible." She squeezed Jak's hand to calm him.

Jak ran his other hand through his hair, nodding wordlessly.

There was silence for a few moments, broken by the entrance of a two-foot tall ottsel.

"Hey you two," Daxter smiled widely.

"Oh, hi Daxter!" Keira responded.

Jak attempted to collect himself. "So, uh, what's up?" he asked unconcernedly.

Daxter held up a piece of paper in one hand. "I just found this weird flyer by the door."

"What kind of flyer?"

"I dunno," Daxter squinted at the paper. "Looks like an ad for some kind of play."

"The color drained from Jak's face. "Play?"

"Yeah, weird title though," Daxter muttered. "It's called 'Springtime for Praxis'."

THUMP! Jak fainted.

"Was it something I said?"

End.

Just to let you know, I saw the Producers on Thursday, and a vision of Errol singing a version of Springtime for Hitler imbedded itself in my head. I couldn't resist.