A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I updated. Here's the newest chapter of Jak Snapshots. The idea came to me, and I had to write something. Someone else has probably thought of it, but enjoy it anyway. If there's any glaring mistakes, bring 'em to my attention.

Earth and Water

"Oy, chief!"

The king of Spargus looked up from where he sat lost in thought. "I'm listening, Kleiver. What is it?"

The portly Wastelander shrugged, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder toward the elevator that led down from Damas's throne room to the city streets. "There's some bloke here to see ya."

Damas raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he asked, getting to his feet. "What about?"

"It's a messenger," Kleiver explained. "From the Big Smoke."

The king didn't seem pleased. "A messenger from Haven?"

Kleiver nodded. Damas simply looked down at the ground for a few seconds, then back at the other man. "Well, then. It would be rude to keep him waiting, now wouldn't it?"

The messenger and his entourage stood out amongst the proud citizens of Spargus thanks to their blood-red armor. The Krimzon guards were sweating profusely in the morning sun, to their great discomfort. The messenger himself was of slim build and wore a mask, which he opened to reveal a sneering face as Damas approached. He opened his mouth to speak, but Damas interrupted him.

"Before you say anything, guardsman, know that while in Spargus, everyone, even envoys, are responsible for anything stupid they might say while on its streets."

Erol nodded.

"Now," Damas continued, his face mirroring the contempt in Erol's. "What's your message?"

Erol smirked, spreading his hands. "Earth and water."

Damas blinked. "Is that it?"

"…and Eco."

"You came all the way from Haven City for earth and water… and Eco?" the king snorted.

"Didn't you hear him tell you not to say anything stupid?" Kleiver shook his head. "Daft git."

Erol growled, a hand on his sidearm. "What makes this fat oaf think that he can get away with speaking to me in such a way?"

Growling just as fiercely, Kleiver took a step forward, causing Erol's guards to raise their weapons. "I'm bigger than you."

"I can see that."

Damas quickly intervened. "Let's take a walk, to cool our heads."

Grudgingly, Erol and Kleiver followed Damas, followed by the Krimzon guards and a number of Spargus's citizens. Erol quickened his pace so he was walking in step with the king.

"If you value the lives of your people, Damas, then listen to me very carefully. Haven City is at war with the Metal Heads. The Baron's forces are more than enough to trample and throw aside any city that does not stand beside Haven in this struggle."

Damas frowned, but did not say anything as the group entered a clearing near the center of town. Near the center of the clearing was a large pit, twenty feet across.

Erol glanced at the hole. "That's a nice pit."

"Thanks. We just had it installed."

"Anyway," Erol continued. "All that Baron Praxis requires from you is this: Earth, water, and Eco. Simply 'donate' these resources to our cause as a token of submission to Baron Praxis."

"Submission?" Damas rasped in a hollow voice. He stopped walking, allowing Erol to overtake him. "Now that's a bit of a problem."

Erol glared, turning to face the reluctant king, who continued blithely.

"Now, rumor has it that Kras City has already turned you down. And if that wretched hive of scum and villainy has found that kind of nerve…" he trailed off, shrugging. "And of course, we Sparguns have our reputation to consider."

The messenger nodded, narrowing his eyes. "Choose your next words carefully, Damas. They may be your last as King."

Damas turned away from Erol. A breeze swept into the city, kicking up a dramatically cinematic halo of dust around the king. Searching for an answer, Damas made eye contact with every one of his subjects that stood before him.

He suddenly whirled around, pointing his war staff at Erol's throat and forcing him towards the edge of the pit. Taking this as a signal, his warriors did the same to the Krimzon guards.

"Madman…you're a madman!" Erol protested.

Damas did not heed him. "Earth and water," he said, nodding towards the abyss. You'll find plenty of both down there. We'll even throw some Eco barrels down with you for good measure."

"No one, Havenite or Wastelander, no one threatens a messenger!"

"You dare…" Damas growled, his voice harsh. "Praxis steals my birthright and my son, and you come here making demands, threatening my people with slavery and death.

"And he called me fat!" Kleiver piped up indignantly before Damas silenced him with a glare.

"Oh, I've chosen my words carefully, Guardsman. Perhaps you-" he jabbed Erol in the chest. "-should have done the same."

"This is blasphemy!" Erol sputtered. "This is madness!"

"Madness?"

Damas stared into the man's eyes before lowering his staff. Erol relaxed as the weapon moved away from his throat.

But his relief was short-lived. Damas inhaled deeply, his eyes aflame, as he unleashed his full fury.

"THIS…IS…SPARGUS!!!"

Damas lashed out with a booted foot, catching the Havenite right in the sternum. With an uncharacteristic wail, Erol vanished into the darkness, followed quickly by his entourage of Krimzon guards. At Damas's signal, a number of Spargus's citizens dropped a few barrels of Dark Eco down after them.

"You know what?" Kleiver asked his king. "I'm getting a bit peckish. We should get some food in our bellies.

Damas nodded, rose to his full height and addressed the crowd.

"Sparguns! Ready your breakfast and eat hearty. FOR TONIGHT, WE DINE IN HELL!!"

The assembled citizens cheered wildly.

"A pit?" Baron Praxis asked.

Erol nodded.

"He dropped you into a pit?"

"He just had it installed," Erol explained, wincing. Praxis simply looked at his captain's broken arm and leg appraisingly.

"Well, that settles it," a thin reedy man piped up from the other end of the table. "We should attack at once."

"For once, I agree with Count Veger," Erol offered, fiddling with a loose tooth. "This insult cannot pass."

The Baron leaned back in his chair, twirling his moustache idly.

"Sir?"

"My Baron?"

Praxis glanced at his subordinates, then shook his head. "No, there will be no attack." He stood up, walking over to the large window next to his chair.

"But Baron Praxis-" Erol protested.

"It's no use begging," Praxis held up a hand. "I've already decided."

"If I may, Baron Praxis," Veger cleared his throat. "May I inquire as to why there will be no attack?"

"It's simple," Praxis grunted. "If this 300 parody goes on much longer, I'm going to end up wearing nothing but some gaudy jewelry and solid gold panties. And that is undignified for a man of my stature. I'm a father, for Mar's sake."

Veger and Erol could only nod.

AN: This fic was written in honor of a certain movie's release on DVD. Please read and review, hmm?