Again?!?
"You're late, Jak." Keira's voice was filled with anger. Judging by her dress (a beautiful, shimmering aquamarine color, most likely expensive) and her hair (which looked like hours had been spent on it), Keira had tried hard to make herself look good for the occasion. And now, she looked more than a little hurt. Jak immediately felt worse for being late.
"...I know," Jak replied weakly.
Keira pointed to the silver watch around her left wrist. "Do you have any idea how late it is?"
"I got here as fast as I could," Jak attempted. Lame.
"What'd you do, walk?" Keira asked, folding her arms across her chest.
"..." Jak went to say something but decided against it-whatever he said would probably hurt him more than help him. Precursors, this was not going well. Give him a metalhead to shoot, a race to win, or a world to save, fine; ask him to talk to an angry woman, one he loved...well, you'd have problems.
"Well?! Jak, why are you late? There's no missions, no war, no race for you to win, no world to save," Keira counted the excuses off on her slender fingers. "Why is it that you always have time for other people's problems but you don't have time for me?! The one time we have a date and you can't have time for us? I don't need all of your attention, but I do require some of it! Why, Jak? Why? Don't you care?" Keira was now on the verge of tears.
"Keira, I-" Jak started, but was interrupted by a horrible lurching feeling in his stomach, like he was going to be sick. It wasn't nervousness or anything. It was just...weird. Then there was a a sharp, sudden feeling of searing pain, like being stabbed with hot metal. He could feel the sensation spreading through his entire body, waves of what felt like high-voltage electricity. He glanced at his fingers; purple sparks crackled from the tips. Dark eco. Not a good sign.
"Excuse me for a second," he said, jumping up from his seat and rushing towards the restroom, nearly colliding with a waiter in the process.
Once through the door, Jak saw himself in the mirror. Skin fading to an ashen grey, eyes darkening to black, cold, emotionless pits-signs of who, or what, he called 'Dark'. Gasping for breath, he locked himself in the handicapped stall and sank to the floor, clutching his stomach, his source of pain. Then there was the transformation, which was painful. In all the years he'd had dark eco abilities, it had never really gotten any easier to turn into Dark.
He was clutching his middle, doubled over, clawing at the wall, panting, and roaring in pain. Jak felt his senses come into sharp focus, as they always did when he made the shift. He could see, smell, and sense every little thing around him. If so much as a drop of water moved, Jak would know.
It was always bad news when he had dark eco in his system, but no light eco. If he didn't use that to heal himself, the dark eco would naturally take over-like it always had in the past. Light eco was merely something he could use-Dark eco was permanently fused into his DNA. And dark eco healing was not nearly as painless as light eco healing.
He could feel it happening in him now. Genetically altered DNA code in his nerves, filled with dark eco, were relaying messages to his brain to rapidly regenerate the section of his body that was injured. Nothing else mattered, his body told him; Jak could feel himself losing his sense of awareness, and all he could hear was what was happening inside him. It was the dark eco-amplifying the sound of the fast-paced beating of his heart, drumming loudly and threatening to beat itself out of his chest. His breathing, rapid and shallow, blood coursing through his veins. All echoing through his ears. And then there was a weird tittering sound, like thousands of spiders walking down a wall at the same time. He recognized it-the sound of dark healing. New dark eco-filled cells were forming, probably at the rate of ten-thousand per second, knitting over the wound and pulling the skin and muscle tissue back together. Louder and louder his heartbeat and breathing grew, so loud he could hardly bear it.
Then: Nothing. Every feeling, every sound-everything was gone, as soon as it came.
Panting uneven, quick breaths, Jak pulled open his shirt and roughly tore off his bandages. There it was-a small section of purple(gash-shaped) in the center of his abdomen, omitting tiny violet sparks, but slowly fading to the normal pink of a healed wound. Within a week, there probably wouldn't even be a scar.
Jak glanced at the wall. Five jagged slashes were cut through through the blue tile. Whoops. He didn't remember doing that...
Slowly, he stood on shaky legs, tucked his shirt in, and stepped outside his stall. He turned on one of the sinks and splashed a little cold water on his face. Another man came out of a stall on the wall opposite his, and promptly washed his hands and left, all the while giving Jak odd looks. When it dawned on him, a smirky smile formed on Jak's lips, and he left chuckling.
However, his strengthened senses were still momentarily in effect, and warning vibes quickly spread through Jak's body. Though he hated listening to Dark's gravelly, throaty voice, he closed his eyes and let his alter ego pinpoint the threat...
'Not in the restaurant. Outside. A rumbling...an engine? Maybe four thousand feet away, at the most. Wheels...moving it at about one-eleven miles per hour, coming from east, westward. This way. Maybe...one and a quarter tons? Heavy armor, probably. ...Something new! Clicking...rapid clicking...weapons? ...Twin machine guns. Front placed.'
It was always strange having someone else's voice in his head. 'Dark Jak' and 'Light Jak' were always talking to him inside his mind, telling him what to do and what desicions to make. They bickered so much, Jak made himself learn to stop listening altogether, except for special occasions. This was one of them.
Twin machine guns, headed this way? Jak felt his heart skip a beat. 'Seriously?'
'My senses don't lie, Jak,' Dark said. 'Have I ever been wrong before? But who knows, I am a little tired.' With that, his voice faded into the darkness.
Suddenly, Jak could hear it, too. With his normal senses. The loud roaring of a car's engine and the sound of firing guns, getting louder by the second. His first thought went to Keira, sitting alone at their table, which was against the wall directly parallel to a large glass window. Jak broke into a sprint, weaving through tables and waiters and standing guests.
"Keira!" he shouted. He thought he heard glass crack behind him, possibly because bullets were hitting it.
Hearing him, Keira sharply turned around. Green eyes widening, she abruptly stood up. "Jak? Is something wrong?" she asked, confused.
In reply, he dove to the ground (dragging her with him), just as a large car burst through the glass window. Shattered glass rained down upon them, and several bullets lodged themselves in the wall just above where Keira had been standing only seconds before. Jak looked up, and through the new scene of panic, saw three armed men get out of the car. Each of their faces were mostly hidden by brown scarves, but he could still pick out a few facial details that would be useful in a report to Ashelin.
"We're looking for the blonde one," he heard the driver say. He had dark hair, and Jak could make out the start of a scar just below his right eye, which was mostly covered by his scarf. Jak guessed, because he was giving orders, that he was the commander of the trio.
"Got it, boss," another replied, raking a hand through his spiky, electric blue hair. He turned to his other accomplice, a large man with a black bandana covering his head. "Got it, buddy? Hey, whassa' matter? You're a little quiet back there. Scared?"
In response, the third man simply glared at him with his beady, dark eyes and showed him a rude gesture. This was a man Jak thought unwise to cross. He was big (at least seven feet tall), and burly. Probably born to kill.
"...Jak?" Keira squeaked, from underneath him, eyes wide with confusion and fear. "What's goin-" Before she could finish, he clamped a hand over her mouth, shaking his hand frantically. No, he mouthed. He put a finger to his lips and began crawling in the general direction of the hole in the glass (the closest escape), picking out a route through underneath nearby tables. The fact that most of the people nearby were screaming and/or running about in panic helped considerably to hide their attempt at escape. However, when they were at the last table that could possibly be used for cover, Jak felt someone grab onto his leg and pull him back.
"Got'cha now!" Jak recognized the voice of the man with blue hair. Thankfully it wasn't the huge one, if that would've been the case he would've been dead for sure. In the uncomfortable position he was in, he turned over as best he could and glared at the assassin.
"Hello there," the man said, pulling his scarf down to reveal a toothy grin. In response, Jak grabbed the gun from the assassin's belt and whacked him in the chest. Suprised, he briefly loosened his grip on Jak's leg. The hero kicked him, and pulled loose, then grabbed the white tablecloth dangling directly above him and roughly yanked it down. The contents of someone's meal rained upon him, and Jak picked out a couple swear words underneath the sounds of breaking glass. On a second thought, he shoved the table down on top of him as well. Seeing the man's gun on the ground, he picked that up as well. "Thanks very much."
"Let's move," he told Keira, grabbing her arm and pulling her up to her feet. The two took off at a run, bullets from the other two men barely missing their rapidly moving feet. They snaked around the building, finally arriving at the parking valet's podium near the front.
"They stopped shooting," Keira noted thoughtfully.
"Keys. Now," Jak said to the valet in his best authoratic voice, gesturing for them. Seeing the gun in his hand, the frantic man tossed the keys from his shaking hands into Jak's outstretched one.
"Jak..." Keira said in a warning tone, finding his vehicle with her eyes.
"What?"
"Stack parking," she replied.
"Ah, shit." His car was completely surrounded by vehicles, albeit of people who were leaving. Still, he knew who the target was in this fiasco, and it didn't take him long to make a desicion on what to do. He took off at a run. "Whatever, we're driving."
"What?!" Keira screeched, chasing after him.
"Trust me," he said, climbing into the driver's seat and grinning. "You build these; you know what they can do."
"Oh, don't tell me you're going to-"
"Just...trust me," Jak replied, cutting her off.
"It's a one seat car," Keira objected. Here the two of them were, in the middle of an argument when three assassins were after their blood.
"We don't have time for this," Jak said, glancing around worriedly. "Jump in, I'll make room."
"N-" Keira began, but was interrupted when a spray of bullets ricoched against the side panel of the car; she screeched and dropped to the ground. After a while, her head popped up. "Okay."
When Keira was in the seat, sitting right behind him, he started the car and gunned it. The vehicle lurched forward and over the foreign-looking vehicle in front of them(a car with an interior, not just an empty metal frame!), crushing it into an almost rectangular shape. However, the engine must've still been hot at the time, for the car set on fire and shortly exploded, showering them with burning debris. Fortunately, their car was already on the road by the time it did.
Jak swore, wiping his face and shaking the hot material out of his hair with his hand. He took off at top speed, hoping not to be shot at.
"Something must've leaked when we crushed it-I told you not to run it over," Keira said, shaking the debris off her own head. Jak pretended to ignore her.
"...They still following us?" he finally asked, frowning, after it was quiet for a while.
Keira tried turning and stood up slightly, accidentally pressing down on his head with her hand. The car swerved.
"Ouch! Geez! Hey, stop it," he complained, trying to keep himself from steering the vehicle into a wall.
"Me stop it?" she replied, almost falling as the car swerved again. "You stop, what're you trying to do, kill me? ...I think we lost 'em," she added.
Suddenly, the car of the assassins appeared around the next corner in front of them.
"Damn! Guess not," Jak said. He glanced at his front-weapons gage. Low. Scratch that, empty. His heart sank. Then he remembered-
"Keira! Shoot!" he commanded, momentarily taking a hand off the control to hand her the weapon he had taken.
"WHAT?!? No, you shoot it! I'll drive!" she argued.
"There's not time! Shoot it-trust me, if you hit it in the right spot, it'll do the job. Aim for a wheel. And don't forget to lead in." Jak added, as the car began to fire upon them. The gun he took was a peacemaker; he wondered what exactly they were expecting from him when they bursted into the restaurant. Probably Dark, but he knew better than to transform himself into that atrocity near Keira, lest he do something he'd later regret. From behind him, Keira squeezed her eyes shut, looked away, and fired. She opened them as the electric blast hit the car right in the front wheel.
"Hit! Now they're hurting!" Keira cheered from behind him. Even in times of peril, her true cheery nature could show through. The car careened out of control, barely missing them, and collided with a wall to the right.
"Nice shot," Jak complimented, though it really was nothing but luck.
Within a few minutes, Jak was back at his apartment. He scootched forwards to let Keira out, then swung himself out of it onto his feet, landing next to her. She glanced at him and sighed.
"I'm sorry, Keir," Jak apologized. She regarded it with a wave of her hand and proceeded to walk to the front door. The apartment was dark-no lights were on that he could see.
Jak knocked. "Dax? You alive in there?" They waited. After what had happened at the restaurant, Jak instantly began regretting his choice of words. What if something had happened? He knocked again, louder and faster. "Daxter!" The doorknob finally turned, and the door opened a crack.
He exhaled in relief. "Dax! What took you so long?"
"Sorry, Jak, didn't hear-WHOA! What happened to you two?" he asked, noticing their bedraggled appearance. Their were tiny crystals of glass on each of them, and their faces were smeared with soot from the explosion's debris. Keira was still holding the gun.
"There was a little...problem at the restaurant," Jak said sheepishly. He led Keira to his worn sofa and she plopped down on it, dropping the weapon to the floor and rubbing her temples.
"Like what!? Did it blow up or something?"
"Kind of." The window did, at least. And someone's car.
"What do you mean, kinda? It looks like you two have been through a battle or somethin'!"
"Oh really?"
Jak sat down next to Keira and absentmindedly placed an arm across the couch behind her, more out of habit than through actual thinking. If the nearness bothered her (she was probably still angry at him), she was too exhausted to do anything about it. She simply pulled her hair out of its style, letting it fall across her face in messy layers, and leaned her head against his arm wearily. He looked at her slowly closing her eyes, them smiled slightly and pulled her closer. Jak then proceeded to tell Daxter the entire story, except for the parts with Dark, though they were subtly implied. Jak didn't think Keira was awake any longer-but he didn't want to take a chance. He didn't like talking about Dark in front of Keira; he figured it upset her. It would be just another thing for her to complain to him about; he knew she didn't like the dark eco at all, didn't like how it changed him.
"So you two were attacked?" Daxter asked, after he was finished. "By, you think, people working for Rayn?"
"Yeah."
"You're bleeding, Jak," Keira said, to both of their surprise. She sat back up, gave her head a quick shake, and, squinting through sleepy eyes, located the spot and pointed.
"Wh-huh?" Jak said, reaching back with his other arm. He felt along his shoulder blade and winced; a piece of glass was jutting out from the skin, embedded in the muscle. Then he felt another. And another. And four more near the other. He guessed he hadn't noticed before due to the adrenaline. But now...shit, it hurt.
"It's just glass," he told her, attempting to hide his pain. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied, beginning to wake up again. She stretched. "Just a little tired, and dirty. Can I use your shower?"
"Yeah, sure. Go ahead. Down the hall, second door to the left."
"Mm-hm, I know." With that, she was gone, and it was just him and Daxter.
"So...what's up between you two?" Daxter asked.
"Nothin'," Jak replied.
"Didn't seem like nothin'," Daxter retorted. "She seems mad, you seem ornery."
"Look, things just didn't go well tonight. We got frickin' attacked," Jak said. He looked at his hands, scratched up and covered with dirt. "And it wasn't going good to begin with-I was late, and...you know."
"Didn't you tell her why you were late?" Daxter asked.
"No! I don't want to burden her with my problems, plus she'll be worried about me-as if she didn't already worry about me enough. I just want her to be happy, and safe. All of you should just leave me alone! I'm not even that great of a guy, and I'm constantly putting everyone's life in danger just by knowing them. Keira could've died tonight. We almost got shot about four times, and blown up, and-"
What Jak really said was, "I don't want to talk about it. Leave me alone." He folded his arms and turned away, glaring at the floor. Some things he just didn't like to say openly. Not even to Daxter, his greatest friend. He couldn't help it, it was just his way.
"Jak, chill."
Jak looked up. "What?"
"I said chill. Hey, I've been sitting on your uncomfortable shoulder for a total of four years, I know you by now. Kay? I know exactly what you're thinking. And I know it's corny, but look, if we didn't think you were worth it, do you think we would've stuck around ya?" Daxter was notorious for his ability to ruin serious moments(even ones he created), and was doing it now by giving Jak his signature smartass smirk-grin.
Jak snorted. "Whatever, Dax." He stood, and walked to the window, peering out at the city he was happy he would be leaving. "I just don't know if Keira thinks I love her as much as I do. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything ever happened to her." He figured it'd be okay to say that much.
He thought he heard a door click down the hall, but he didn't think much of it.
"Oh, and I need a favor, Dax."
"What's that?" Daxter replied, tilting his head to the side. "Relationship advice? A mood boost? Want a sandwich?"
"No. Can you pull all this damn glass outta my back?"
Poor Daxter. Darn, I really need to get these in faster. Oh, and if you have an account, please review. That way at least, I'll know if I'm doing something horribly wrong. Or if I'm doing something horribly right. Or if my theory on how dark eco works is cracky. Or...whatever.