A/N: I would like to quickly send out a huge thank you to each and every reader, reviewer or not. I hope you enjoy this next chapter, especially the race scene. Though I have written many stories, I have not once written any action. So this is my first try. Please feel inclined to tell me what you think! I would love to hear your opinions, and I am open to any type of advice, no matter how broad or concise. Reviews make me happy, but advice makes me ecstatic!
Once again, enormous chunks have been pushed back to later chapters. The reason being, this chapter was too big and the next one too small. So it seemed like a good idea.
Huge thanks once again to my awesome beta-reader, EcoSeeker247. Drop her a thank you if you find the time!
Disclaimer: I do not own the title "Jak and Daxter". Naughty Dog does!
Part 1: Chapter 6: Flashes of the Past
One week later…
"Come on, Amelle, this way!" I shouted, gesturing for my friend to follow. Giggling, she complied, trotting merrily over to my hiding spot. We both crouched down in the trench and closed our mouths, but one look at Amelle confirmed that she was still laughing. I couldn't resist doing the same.
"Do you think he'll find us here?" Amelle asked two minutes in. Her voice was a little too loud for my comfort, so I held up an index finger to silence her. My eyes widened in warning, but we exchanged one look and we were both giggling again.
"No, I don't think he'll find us," I said.
"Don't think who will find you?" asked another voice from above us. Amelle and I both looked up and screamed simultaneously.
"Gotcha!" Lex cried, and reached into the crevasse to grab us. We both scrambled out and took off in opposite directions, and Lex ended up clawing at thin air. I looked back at Amelle, and saw she was fleeing back towards the house. And Lex was…
"Ha ha!" my ten-year-old brother shouted, tackling me to the ground. I struggled under his weight, but he was much bigger than me. Screaming was also futile, as he had his arm around my mouth. "You're It!"
"No!" I shouted, and bit down hard on the arm that was muffling my words. He yelped and pulled away, giving me just enough time to climb to my feet and run off again.
"Hey, no fair!" Lex yelled from behind me. I looked back at his pouting expression and laughed as my feet continued to carry me away. But suddenly, I hit a roadblock, and hit it with such force that the contact knocked me to the ground.
"Ouch," I mumbled, before looking up at the obstacle. Erol stood, looming over me, with one eyebrow cocked in amusement.
"Having fun?" he asked.
All the fun tension seemed to dissolve suddenly. I put on my best six-year-old grin and shouted, "Yeah!" Erol laughed.
"I'm not," said Lex, coming up behind me. "She's not playing fair. And she bit me!" he said, holding up his arm to support this claim.
"Ah! He's It! Hide me!" I screamed, and hid behind Erol, who continued to laugh.
"So, good fun was had all around," he said, and gently shifted me back around him. "Shae, what do you say to Lex?"
"Sorry," I mumbled, still not meeting his eyes. "But you hurt me, too!"
"No, I didn't!"
I stuck out my tongue in response.
"Where are Amelle and Ty?" Erol asked. I shrugged, while Lex told him that they were still hiding.
"Okay, go find them and tell them it's time to go home, then you two get back too," Erol said finally.
Lex and I nodded and set off to search for our missing friends, calling their names all the while. Ty we found hiding behind one of the new message boards and Amelle had found her way into a different crevasse in the ground. Smiling and giggling, we all headed back to our respective houses in the Slums.
Suddenly, a deep, rumbling noise was torn from the sky. We all looked up in alarm. The clouds pulled apart, and out shot a streaming comet of Dark Eco. The substance hit the ground with a loud BANG, causing quite a commotion.
Two figures stepped out; one was a blond teenager, and the other a little orange rat. They both proceeded towards us. I looked over at my three companions, only to find they had all disappeared.
"Lex! Amelle! Ty!" I called, but to no avail. Then when I looked back, there was only me, and the blond kid. His entire body began to shake, and bolts of Dark Eco shot out of him. He continued towards me, growling, teeth bared, eyes narrowed to sinister slits.
Then, beside the monstrous boy, I spotted Erol, much older suddenly, cackling with laughter. And just that sound was enough to make my blood run cold. In fact, I had the actual feeling that icy water was running through my veins.
The last thing I saw was the silhouette of the now-murderous-looking blond kid, bearing down on me.
I woke with a start, sitting up straight and subsequently bashing my forehead on the radiator I had chosen to sleep under. The sky was still dark, save several multicoloured streaks than ran across it. As early as it was, though, I knew trying to get more sleep would be futile. Rubbing my temples tenderly, I decided that it was a good a time as any to do a systems check. I cautiously rose to my feet and gave myself the once-over.
Heels? Blistered. Ribs? Definitely bruised, possibly cracked. Shoulder? Still slightly sore, but recovering quickly. Forehead? Ouch. Back of head? Throbbing and tender; large bump effectively formed.
But aside from these minor "speed bumps", I was doing well.
Through the throbbing pain in my head, I managed to reconstruct parts of my dream. But since I was barely able to remember why I'd made the executive decision to sleep on a roof, my thoughts didn't want to produce any vivid animations.
Moving sluggishly, I replaced my sweater in my backpack and exchanged it for a fruit of some sort. I ate it right down to the core, not leaving even a scrap behind. My stomach still growled, even more demanding than before its generous snack. As weak-willed as I was, I forced myself to ignore the discomfort and settled for a deep swig of water. That, of course, did nothing but refresh my stomach's pleas, making it excruciatingly painful to continue. But I was running precariously low on provisions, and didn't want to waste any.
Besides; when I had been poor (and oddly happy) and lived in the Slums, there had never been enough to eat. I would adapt to minimal food consumption quickly.
I replaced the water container inside the pack, my hand rubbing against something sharp. I closed my hands around the new item and pulled it out of the backpack. It turned out to be nothing more than my Blue Eco rock. Smiling half-heartedly, I clenched it tight between my fingers. Suddenly, I felt immensely better, less hungry and much more energized. Whether the pleasant feeling was an effect of the Blue Eco or something much deeper, I didn't care. I only wanted it to remain there, completely encompassing me with warmth.
I reluctantly let go of the stone, smiling when the feeling lingered even once I was not holding the Eco in my hands. Encouraged, I stepped over to the ledge and hopped off the roof. A few well-placed steps and nimble jumps put me lightly back on the ground, reasonably well-concealed from curious eyes.
I walked down the street, feeling oddly buoyant. Still the comforting sensation filled me, and it made my thoughts less clouded and certainly less depressing. I was able to focus on the upcoming day without feeling complete discouragement.
First things first, I told myself. Prioritize. (1) Find and join a race team that had a NYFE racer ready for the Class 3 race this afternoon; (2) Somehow convince the leader of that race team that I was sixteen, so they could admit me into the competition; (3) Win said race; (4) Accept trophy, once again without raising suspicions due to my age; (5) Hope Torn was impressed by my skills and join the Underground!
I had a lot to do, but hopefully with this newfound energy, I could handle it.
And then, just as I turned the corner, I saw a familiar streak of brown hair, and knew that I was that much closer to completing goal number one.
"Amber," I called, hoping that I hadn't mistaken her. Fortunately, the brunette turned her head, smiling as her bright green eyes landed on me. As she gestured me over, I ran scenarios through my head, trying to think of a plan that would get her to tell me what I needed without giving anything away.
And then I thought of it.
"Hey, Shae," she greeted, "How've you been?"
"Good," I said. My plan involved sliding from casual small talk to more serious subjects delicately enough that I wouldn't raise too much suspicion. "How about you?"
"I've been fine, just bored. Good thing the race's this afternoon."
"Are you going to watch it?" I asked. Amber was unintentionally going along with my plan perfectly.
"Actually, I have my own race team. That's why I want to go to Kras one day."
Kras City was one of the only other civilisations that had survived the three-hundred year Metal Head war, along with Haven City. It was situated across the ocean, too far for a Hellcat hover-cruiser to go on one tank of Eco fuel. Haven dwellers commonly referred to it as the city of Combat Racing. As it stood, Combat Racing was still a new sport, but I was willing to bet that it would eventually become one of the biggest things on our poor little planet.
"I remember. So, your own team, you say?" I asked, hoping that I wasn't acting so indifferent that it was actually too obvious.
"Yeah. My racers aren't that good, though. I've been searching every nook and cranny of this city for a year, trying to find someone that could actually place in the top three."
I laughed. "Wow, that bad, huh?" She nodded, smiling half-heartedly.
It was then the time to put my master plan into action. "You know, I can race pretty well. I used to compete with my siblings all the time." In fact, Erol was the city's undisputable NYFE champion. If I had learned anything from him, it was how to race.
"Well, maybe someday you can join my team," she said.
"I could race today, if you'd like."
She laughed. "Right. How old are you?"
"Sixteen," I answered smoothly. Her smile quickly faded and she looked at me disbelievingly. "That's old enough, right?"
"Sixteen, huh?" she inquired, cocking an eyebrow, "You sticking with that?"
I nodded, trying to look fierce.
She sighed, and began speaking harshly. "Meet me in garage number four at eleven o'clock this morning. Bring good racing gear." I didn't bother to tell her that I didn't have any "racing outfits," save the one I was wearing. "I'll get the NYFE ready. Just be there, and be ready to race."
She walked off pointedly, not looking back. I stood there dumbfounded for a minute, trying to decipher the meaning of her words. Meet me at the garage. That sounded good, but could possibly be a trick. At eleven o'clock. That was before the race, which reinforced the last instruction. Bring racing gear. That was what did it for me.
I quite literally jumped for joy, letting out a cry of "Yes!" into the air. Several citizens stopped to look at me, so I suppressed my overwhelming happiness for the time being. Still giggling inside, I began trotting down the road, earning confused stares from many townspeople.
After stopping by the north bazaar and expertly stealing a Jova fruit and some sort of bread, I decided to head out to the forest. It was a long walk, but much quicker if one ran. And since I was a fast runner, I was able to virtually cut the time in half. Upon arriving in the forest, I installed myself on a low cliff beside a waterfall. I lay on my back and closed my eyes, completely at ease.
Haven Forest was outside the city shield wall, but there was an airlock one had to pass through, followed by a rift ring and a levitating Precursor platform. But it was worth the trip. The Forest was built on a hilly terrain, abundant with grass, flowers and butterflies. Yes, butterflies. It was really the only "haven" in Haven City.
Haven City. It was ironic that you had to leave the city to find actual haven. The name was a lie in itself. The threat of a Metal Head invasion hung over us day by day like a guillotine, just waiting for that odd shift in the wind to throw it off. If the Metal Heads ever did invade, we would all be effectively screwed.
Then it struck me: why were the Guards so preoccupied with supervising the citizens when the Metal Heads were much more pressing? Shouldn't the KG be trying to hold the Metal Heads instead of putting offenders in prison? I'd heard rumours of advancement on the Metal Head front; packs were slowly becoming braver and braver, trying to penetrate the Shield Walls. The pumping station and the remains of the old Shore Slums – now dubbed Dead Town – were off limits because of the Metal Heads' growing relentlessness.
Just more proof that I had made the right choice to quit. The KG was useless, and it wouldn't surprise me if the Baron was actually undermining the whole thing.
More and more troubled thoughts began to invade my relaxation, so I quickly sat up and shook my head, as if I could shake the bad visions out of my head. I didn't, though.
The sun was beating down on my, even through the holey cover of trees. The pool at the bottom of the waterfall looked so tempting, and there was nothing to stop me from lightly jumping off the cliff and falling into the refreshing water, clothes and all. They needed a wash as much as I did.
I waded in the waves for a while, enjoying every relaxing second. Once I began to shiver, I climbed onto the green shore and dozed off for a bit while my body and clothes dried in the sun.
I was roused a couple hours later; ten o'clock by the light being emitted by the sky. I took the opportunity to refill my water bottle with the cool, fresh water from the stream. Rehydrated and rejuvenated, I proceeded back towards the city.
I arrived at garage four ten minutes early, but Amber was already there waiting for me. I knocked lightly on the large, steel doors, and she turned to face me. Her arms were crossed and her face was stone hard.
"I'm still not okay with this," she said.
"I know," I acknowledged, and walked towards the NYFE set up on the work bench. She followed me, put a block of wood at the bottom of the elevated platform and helped me onto the racer.
The NYFE was like the one-seat Zoomers in the city, but much more suitable for racing, with a sleek and light-weight design. The driver sits behind the engine and holds on to the steering wheel, feet on the accelerator pedals. There was a long, armoured knife on the front for "cutting" through the track. The tail also sported a knife, but more for steering than aerodynamics. I installed myself comfortably on the timeworn seat and placed my hands and feet on their respective holds.
It felt great. And this was before even getting on the track, before even lighting the ignition.
"It's old, used, and probably not as fast as the newer models," Amber said, tweaking a couple last things in the engine, "But it should hold true. Have you ever been on one before?"
"Yes," I said. Whilst I had never actually competed in a real race, Erol had let me mount his when it was in the garage from time to time. I had even done a lap of the track with him once. He had driven, but I had known from that moment on that I would be a racer the day I turned sixteen.
"Then you know –"
"How to steer, accelerate, brake, and stuff?" I interrupted. "Yeah. Trust me, I've done this before."
She nodded. "Okay." She paused, then reached over to retrieve a black helmet and gloves from behind her. Racers didn't typically wear helmets, or any form of protection for that matter, but there was no rule against or to enforce it. "I found this, so you can wear it and hide your face. You know, in case someone mistakenly thinks you're not sixteen. "
I rolled my eyes as I took the black protective gear and put it on. Way to hide the sarcasm, Amber.
I took a minute to adjust my grip, test a few moves and experiment with my vision. Sighing, I dismounted the racer and slid the visor off my eyes.
"Ready?" Amber asked.
"As I'll ever be," I replied.
"Okay then. Help me bring the racer onto the track."
This is it, I thought. For the Class 3 race, there would be no speech, no preamble. The racers brought their vehicles onto the track, the audience sat down in the stands, the green light would go, and I would try my hardest to win, or at the very least, not die. These competitions could get rough towards the last few laps.
All the competitors were settled on their racers, including me. My hand absently twisted on the grip in anticipation. I brought my left foot up off the ground and placed in on the pedal, so that all my weight was on the racer. All there was left to do was wait for the all four green lights to go off.
Amber's instructions swirled in my head. Don't go for first right off the bat; wait until lap four or five. Only use turbo-blasts on straight-aways. Drifting high on turns can lose you a lot of time. I knew all that already.
Don't bump into other racers unless you want them to bump in to you. You can usually ride peacefully for the first lap or so, but once someone starts racing aggressively, it's on. That was nice to know. As many times as I had seen racers drive combatively, I had never known of the real terms. So be on your guard.
And don't take the shortcut. It's too risky, and you can win it on skill alone. That was also useful. Honestly, I had been planning to use every timesaving route I came across, but I trusted Amber's advice, so I would be sure to stay clear of that.
Green. Everyone got into a racing posture and put on their game faces. Thankfully, no one could see my expression through the tinted visor.
Green. Grunts of anticipation. Was that loud thumping noise my heart?
Green. I took a deep breath.
Green.
All seven racers floored the gas pedals, making quick getaways. But being in the second row, I knew that one did not want to get caught up in the initial jockey for position. I hit the acceleration a split-second later, and managed to scrape by three clashing competitors from my vantage point. By the time everyone had found their ranks, I was right up in fourth place.
We sped around a significantly sharp turn and into the tunnel. I immediately saw why Amber had not wanted me to take the shortcut: it was a thirty foot leap over a bottomless pit, which would require not only speed and agility but an unnatural amount of luck to cross safely. I turned my racer to take the long turn around it, and watched out of my peripherals in horror as someone threw their vehicle over the chasm, only to land short and plummet. My stomach plunged to the depth of the pit, but I quickly swallowed my fear and kept racing.
After the short cut came a rather unexpected obstacle. There was a ramp angling over another pit, not as large but likely just as deep. Some competitors turned their vehicles sharply to coast along the walls, but I took the jump head on. My racer glided smoothly through the air before landing on the other side of the hole, to my immense relief.
There were three turns and then a straightaway as the tunnel exited, where I took advantage of my turbo and shot past the third place racer. But I got a little cocky, and someone passed me, while someone else was approaching quickly.
Something collided with the back of my racer, knocking the breath out of my lungs. I shot a quick glance behind me, only to find someone smirking with satisfaction as he pulled his vehicle around mine. Fuming as much as my damaged racer, I used another turbo, effectively shooting past him but drifting a bit too high on the following turn. It was on.
The next three laps passed by, the tension building gradually, and racers becoming more and more anxious to ram someone into a wall. I kept a steady third place, occasionally needed to "nudge" another racer to get it out of my way.
I was shocked by how second-nature racing was to me. I hadn't been taken aback or surprised whatsoever. The moment the lights had begun to flash green, it was as if my mind and body had gone into racing mode. I took the turns like a pro, occasionally drifting too high, but was always able to regain my position quickly enough.
As we sped by the lap marker for the fourth time, I knew it was time to take it up a notch. As the two heads and I came out of the first turn, I floored my pedal and cleverly used another turbo, actually catching a bit of air on the hill. I sped past the two racers in front of me and landed a solid first place going in to the tunnel. Feeling most out-of-character, I waved tauntingly as I swerved around them in a serpentine.
A thought passed through my mind: all the other action I had known lately had been inside my head, in the form of some internal debate. This was the first time I was in real, physical danger, the outcome affecting more than just me. It was a little strange.
But I loved it. As dangerous as action could be, I decided there was nothing better than feeling the cold rush of adrenaline, having every cell in my body focused on the here and now.
It was great. It was me.
As usual, I took the side route instead of the shortcut in the tunnel. But to my dismay, one of my adversaries took the jump. I braced myself to hear the screams as he fell down the pit, but he landed the jump and sped expertly into the turn, leaving me bewildered. And in second place.
This was not the time to lose my rhythm, though. As we exited the tunnel, hearing the deafening cheers of the crowd, I planned my strategy. There was one more long straightaway where I could pass him with a turbo. But I would need to be right behind him to do that, so I took extra caution to take the turns well.
We came around the last one, me directly behind him. I steered off to the side a tiny bit, punched the turbo button, and…
Passed him! I shot past my last opponent just in time to race over the finish line. I let out a cheer of "yes!" as I brought my faithful racer to a steady halt. Smiling under my visor, I glanced up at the scoreboard, and saw Amber's name next to my picture (helmeted, of course) in the second place slot.
Second. What?
I watched as the first place winner, someone I hadn't even noticed in the beginning line up. I was still dumbfounded when Amber approached me, manoeuvring through past the mess of sponsors, reporters and team leaders.
"Second place! That's awesome!" she exclaimed. "You can go to the Class 2 if you want."
"No thanks," I said. "This was more of a one-time thing for me. Maybe another time. But I hope you find a good racer from your team to do the Class 2."
"Oh, well, okay." Amber and I both shifted uncomfortably as the awkward tension grew tighter and tighter. "I guess I'll see you around, then," she said, and went to join the mess of leaders to fill out some legal stuff.
I made my way off the track, speed-stepping directly towards the racers' exit. No prize for second place.
Downcast, I marched down the steps of the Mar Memorial Stadium, not bothering to hide my irritation, and thought of the days to come. Torn would never let me join the Underground, not after my pathetic display of alleged "skill" in the race. What had I been thinking, claiming I could win, let alone race, against people much older and much bigger than me? Obviously, nothing coherent.
I was certain Tess would have allowed me to stay with her a while longer, but she had done enough for me. I simply wasn't good enough for the rebellion. And I was not going back to the KG – no matter how desperate I became. I was – as I had put it earlier – effectively screwed.
A sudden and irrational urge to lunge out and strike someone overwhelmed my entire being. I settled for punching the tall tree that appeared in front of me. How unfortunate for it. My fists slammed against its rough bark repetitively.
Once the tree was completely beaten and my knuckles were sufficiently bloody and raw, I drew back. I stared absently at my hands until the pain finally registered. I swore under my breath and breathed deeply, fists clutched against my chest.
So, to recap, I now had beaten knuckles to add to my rapidly growing list of injuries.
"Not feeling all that compassionate towards the trees today, are we?" inquired a dreadfully familiar voice. I turned only to come face to face with my favourite person in the entire world. Note the dripping sarcasm.
MUAHAHAHAHA! Cliffhangers rock. Unfortunately, I will be on vacation for the next two weeks, and it is unlikely that I will have access to a computer. So, I bid all you faithful readers a temporary farewell. It has been a pleasure. And who knows? Maybe I'll get a crack of inspiration while dangling from a cliff-face or speeding over some white-water rapids. Yes, I'm going to BC. I can't wait!
Teehee. Can't you just picture little six-year old Shae, or moreover, 14-year-old Erol?
So, what did you think? Praise, flames, comments or concerns? Please click the button below and share your thoughts.
See you all next time!
~Fishyicon