1All right, lets get rolling with the third chapter! By the way, I have no idea what to use this space up here for exactly, so make some suggestions in your reviews. Would be an extra thing for you to do instead of saying, "Wowie gee golly gosh!" :P
Interference
Chapter 3: Misinterpretation
It isn't much of a surprise to find the Naughty Ottsel lacking customers at the time. Everything in the city was running reasonably well, and only the ones who had to have an ounce of alcohol came to the bar. Still, there were quite a few patrons sipping their small cups. One sat at the bar, rolling a glass between his hands, warming the drink. Long hair spilled past the base of his neck, changing shades from green to blonde and was tied into a ponytail. He wore a trademark long sleeve blue tunic that was neatly tucked in the dark green pants. A large circular bar of steel made of steel was strapped to his chest by three thick sleeves of leather, where they joined into a gun holster on his back, where a large blast now hung. On his left shoulder was a long shoulder plate of armor that was a strange shade of color that was associated with most Precursor artifacts. Standing on the bar next to him was Daxter, all ready spinning a tale, "So there I was, surrounded by the most evilistic Dark Precursors I ever saw. Bodies pulsing with Dark Eco! Claws clicking in anticipation of the kill," He grew into a hush for his audience, a group of half drunks and his best friend, "Suddenly they leapt into a frenzy of attacks, all hitting nothing but air! Then with a RATA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TAT!" He began to pantomime the Vulcan Fury firing in his paws, which was a rather dramatic version. Before he could continue the last of the yarn, his foot slipped past the edge of the bar. Off balance all ready with the acting, Daxter fell backward, still spinning wildly from the pretend gatling gun. A few of the men chuckled noisily and returned to their own conversations. Jak casually leaned over the bar grinning. Daxter was flat on his back, mouth puckered in embarrassment.
Jak reached down, extending his arm down for Daxter. The ottsel reluctantly grabbed it and was hoisted back onto the bar. He adjusted his pants, frowning slightly as Jak sipped the drink. Once he was satisfied with the pants he eased his shoulders back, growing as tall as tall as he could and stuck his face into Jak's still sipping face, "Not a word Jak! Not from someone who needs help knocking down rocks and climbing freaking trees! You just take care of the gun work, I'll take control of the extreme acrobatics!" He pointed an orange finger in Jak's face for emphasis and retreated. Jak simply sat there, completely unphased by Daxter, and patiently sipping the drink. Finally, he set the half empty drink down, "So who does the suicidal leaps at the bad guy then Dax?" He was just humoring his friend now and reached back down for the glass.
Before the drink could be lifted, the door was kicked in. This was rather loud since the door slid to the side. The system connected to the door was partly kicked out along with the door, gears and a few automized wheels flying out. The door clattered loudly in the middle of the boxing ring (Or dance floor, I never could decide which was which), denting the pole in the middle of it. Walking with his chest held ridiculously high was Desmond. He was followed by Torn. He was staring with disdain at the kid, not caring if his immediate dislike of him showed.
Desmond took two seconds to observe the members of the bar. Jak was staring at him with an impassive look. He didn't notice Daxter was using him as cover. The short rounded ears also caught Jak off guard. He wasn't sure if Desmond was a threat or not. He had kicked a door literally off it's hinges, but now was acting with the most absurd posture. Desmond suddenly proclaimed loudly to the patrons, "LETS GET DRUNK!" and hiked his way toward the bar. Instead of going around the square ring in the middle of the room, Desmond bounced off the ropes to get in and out of the ring. Daxter peered over Jak's shoulder to get a quick glance at the lunatic and retreated back behind Jak. The maniac took a seat in the stool next to Jak and spun on the revolving seat. He laughed as he increased the speed of the chair. As he spun he caught a glimpse of Daxter who was now sure enough that there wasn't going to be a riot. His hands immediately stopped pushing the seat and he kept a distant stare on Daxter and kept it as he continued to turn. Finally, the chair halted making a loud metallic squeak. Daxter at first didn't notice the shock and contained excitement Desmond's stare. Before he could have interpreted the meaning behind the stare, the stranger leapt out of the seat shouting, "HAHA! I knew they would have given me some kind of backup. Course I would have expected another Long Hand, not a real live Precursor as a partner. Was a little worried about the Masquerade at first, but now with a big shot on my side we'll get those bastard's," He laughed again and planted an hand on Daxter head and ruffled the ears. Daxter eased himself out of Desmond's reach, frowning as he fixed his goggles and ruffled fur, "Thanks for the recognition man, but to be honest you might wanna check the guy with the goatee. He's the one in the save the world category."
Desmond's face scrunched up, his brow furrowed in confusion, "This guy," He said doubtfully toward Jak, "Why not you? Can't you snap your fingers and stop the Masquerade?"
"If I could do that, maybe I would be in a tricked out bar filled with multitudes of woman to keep me company after hours."
"Why don't you then?"
Daxter turned and gaped, "Maybe because I'm not the all powerful Eco toting God of Universe who shapes all creation with a twiddle of his finger type of Precursor your looking for."
Desmond now began to catch on. Then he immediately cringed as if he was about to be struck, "Oh...I need you to forget the other thing I said earlier?" He got up to leave when Jak rose to stop him, "Hey, what did you mean about that Masquerade?"
The stranger halted and considered Jak for a moment with a shoulder glance. He stood straight and his hand went to his forehead, considering how to respond. Finally, he gestured outside, "Maybe if you can show me that you can handle the mission I've got going, then I'll let you in on the inside?" He looked confident in his offer. That grin was the first sight of sanity they had seen so far.
"No problem, I can handle anything you can throw at me."
"If would step outside please."
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Meanwhile in Spargus...
The sun had just begun to rise, sending beautiful rays of color in the desert sky. Enormous waves lapped the cliff side. Only a few steps away from the shore was the sand cities marketplace. Paska was observing a stalls collection of fruit, poking a few before deciding on grabbing a purple fruit that looked somewhat like a large curved apple. He jogged away, bumping into multiple wastelanders on the way.
"Ouch, sorry sir! S'cuse me miss, gotta get through!"
He took a seat next to Dakit on the cliff edge, tossing the fruit from one gloved hand to the other. He raised one hand to the scarf over his mouth and pulled it away and led the other hand there. He bit into the apple-like fruit loudly, rolling the juicy chunk in his cheek before chewing it into bits and swallowing, "Hey, it's spicy! Dakit, its got a funky aftertaste try it!" He exclaimed loudly as he held out the fruit. Dakit made a reluctant glance and grunted as he took the apple and bit into the untouched side. He as well rolled the food in his mouth and tossed the fruit back to Paska, who nearly leapt off the edge to catch it.
"Not bad, not good either," He replied. His legs dangled loosely over the sharp rocks and pulled the scarf uncomfortably, "Its too hot out here. I'm beginning to see why you immediately hated these clothes."
Paska bit again into the apple, "So what's the timer say?" He said with fruit still in his mouth.
Dakit reached into the rags and produced an electrical screen, "In about fifteen seconds." He returned it to the inside pocket and gazed dimly at the turret. Paska made a loud chuckle that produced a ragged choking sound as he pounded his chest. He got up and began to jump in the air and punching his gut to force wind out and threw up the large chunk of fruit caught in his throat. He hunkered over and coughed. Dakit slowly moved himself over the cliff edge a few feet while Paska was regaining his breath. He finally noticed his companion had moved his position and turned around, his head tilted. He flinched as he remembered something and brought up one hand and hand up as he counted fingers. When he got to three fingers, the giant turret only seven feet away from him exploded in a purple mist.
Paska was thrown forward by the blast, a good five feet. He landed behind Dakit, whose loose clothes were fluttering from the explosion. Throughout Spargus, more explosions followed along with the induced panic. He gazed deeply out into the sea with apprehension, thoughts going in and out of his further plans. Paska stood up, dusted his clothes off from the great beads of sand that coated him. He glanced skyward where three more explosions were blowing smoke into the air. He laughed and bit into the apple once more and tossed the core into the ocean.