4 Hot off the presses. Hopy you enjoy cliffies.
The air around him was cold, the walls and floors doing little to stifle the stark chill that crawled along his skin. His only guess was that it was winter, or at least fall and this was the first chill of the year. He really had no way of telling, and he certainly wasn't sure if his tick marks on the wall were accurate. By his estimate there were easily two years worth, etched into the wall. And time it seen, had done its worst to him. His blond hair had grown long, though it was sometimes trimmed by the prison staff. The once vivid hues of yellow and green had muddied from dirt and malnutrition. With the coming of age came facial hair, and oftentimes it grew in thick dark green locks from his sideburns to his chin, forming an almost pointed goatee. That, too was shaved whenever the Prison thought it prudent to clean them up with their idea of a 'shower', shave, and a new set of rags.
Horrors beyond imagination had become his every day reality, the norm- Wake up, eat a pitiful meal then be dragged off hours later to be subjected to the tortures of Dark Eco. He thought he'd've been used to it by now but each time he found himself strapped down and pumped full of it, it was just as bad as before. It was now a part of him. And when one spent two years being juggled between different cells, there was little to distract him from the pain and inherent depression that accompanied such torture. He tried to cope, sure. He'd sleep, often twelve, even eighteen hours a day but then there came times when he just couldn't sleep anymore so he'd exercise. A thousand pushups, a thousand situps, a thousand pull ups and when he exhausted his usual routine he'd make up new exercises and just repeat those a thousand times or so until every muscle burned and rippled.
Then of course, exercising wasn't enough. He'd try to sleep more, but was often restless. And when he'd go several days without sleep on a meager diet, he'd begin to hear the voices. One voice stood out above all, cold and metallic against his ears as it clawed at his brains. It had cropped up shortly after the beginning of this nightmare and it attempted to make him do terrible things. He sometimes thought about doing those things too- gruesome things, horrible things, bloody things but just before he crossed the threshold into madness, he somehow reclaimed his humanity and pushed back the murderous thoughts of bloodshed and rage.
There was a bang on the cell door. It broke the silence and startled him from his thoughts. He'd already eaten that day so it wasn't food time. That only left one alternative. The door slid open and Errol stood, accompanied by two guards who brandished long stun rods, poised to strike. Jak reluctantly hefted himself from the bench, turned and waited for the guards to slap their restraints onto his wrists. They shackled his feet too- Likely to avoid a repeat of the one time he dared retaliate by nailing a guard in the side of the head with his foot. Then he was escorted down the halls toward his 'throne'. After many years he'd finally memorized the path from his cell block to chair. He'd also taken the time over the last two years to analyze his surroundings, considering all possibilities of escape, and even where she might be held so that he could rescue her too- if she wasn't dead already.
In accordance with the rituals of the last six hundred or so times he'd been strapped down, they quickly bound his legs and wrists after removing the shackles then slid two long needles into either arm. The machine above was already warm and spun up, ready to dispense its highly volatile load. Jak took a deep breath, the last he'd take for a while. He knew the next several minutes would be a living hell and the hours following the injection cycle would be spent writhing in pain on his cot.
Then on cue, the switch was flipped and the torture began as it always had- Violet streaming between the machine and his body in jagged bolts. His chest heaved and his blood boiled. He struggled not to scream but the pain was simply too great. It always seemed to hurt more than the time before. It lasted for what felt like an eternity and just when he felt life slipping from his grasp, the flow stopped and the automated system above confirmed in an almost mocking 'caring' feminen voice.
"Dark Eco Injection cycle complete. Bio readings Nominal and Unchaged."
"Heh- Nothing.. I was informed this one might be- different...!" Growled a booming voice. Jak only registered a few words. Baron Praxis. Dear Mar how he wanted that arrogant bastard to die by his hand, right then and there- consequences be damned.
"He is.. suprisingly resistant to your.. Experiments, Baron Praxis." The second voice paused. Errol, Jak recalled but his thoughts were swimming. White was turning to red and every muscle was beginning to recoil as if in response to something feral within. "I fear the Dark Warrior Program has failed."
Another growl erupted behind him and Jak gritted his teeth, sucking in air sharply as his hair was grabbed harshly from behind. Breath was hot on his ear. "You should at lest be DEAD with all the Dark Eco I've pumped into you..!" Jak struggled to open his eyes and catch a glimpse of the good Baron but his vision refused to stop spinning and flashing brightly.
Above him, the two men were conversing idly, their voices serious and foreboding. Jak felt tired, he wanted to rest but at the same time he knew that was a pipe dream as every nerve in his body was simultaneously firing and his mind was consumed by fog that soon drowned out the conversation around him. He could only make out a few words- Metal heads, the Baron's irritated banter, and fears of losing Haven to the war beyond the walls. One phrase stood out, and his blood ran cold.
"Finish off this.. Thing.. tonight." Praxis gestured to Jak who was struggling to get a proper lungful of air as his muscles recoiled rapidly.
"As you wish.." Errol gave a curt bow to his leader, then stared up at Jak with grotesque hatred and mockery. Firmly grabbing the hem of Jak's tunic, he pulled him up and got within an inch of his face. Jak could faintly smell the man's breath- a combination of rancid food and alcohol though it wasnt blatantly apparent. "I'll be back later." Errol snarled, half dropping, half throwing Jak back onto the chair. Then he pivoted harshly on his heel and stormed off, followed by the three guards that normally liberated him from the chair.
Jak wondered why they had left him there. Not that it mattered. Regardless of where he was, he'd suffer. His head was still pounding and his world was still spinning. And just as he was ready to close his eyes, he heard a voice- familiar yet irritating in some form of fashion.
"Ding ding, Third floor!"
Jak noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, but only an orange blob of color stood out against the gunmetal background dotted occasionally with a blur of yellow-green.
"Body chains, roach food, torture devices!" the voice chimed loudly and Jak felt a thud on his chest. Something had just landed on him. "Hey buddy...!"
Jak wanted to say something- He really did but his throat felt just as paralyzed as it did upon arriving in this hell-hole.
"Seen any heroes around here?" That voice was so familiar.. Like a friend from a distant memory in the past. It reminded him of sand, salt, and the ocean's gentle sound. "Woah, What'd they do to you?"
They tortured him. Messed him up real bad. But it wasn't like he could say it. Suddenly he was growing increasingly angry. The redness overtook him again and he only had one thought. Kill. Baron. Praxis.
"Jak- It's me! Daxter!" Jak heard the voice say but it was becoming distant, as if spoken from a great distance. It echoed and bounced around his skull, lost in the void of rage that was slowly overtaking him. He wasn't sure what face he was making, but it must've been unsatisfactory to the orange blob standing on his chest, "Well THAT'S a fine hello! I've been crawling around in this place, risking my tail- Literally!"
Jak winced as he felt something land rather unceremoniously on his groin. Even amidst the pain, he still had the presence of mind to realize that a swift kick to the balls was still excruciating. "-To save you! I've been lookin' for you for two years!" It was obvious now that the blob was desperate, its voice high and filled with fear, sadness, happiness, and even regret. "Say something, Just this ONCE!"
Praxis. Praxis. Praxis. Baron. Fucking. Praxis. That bastard was going to pay- Jak was going to rip that man limb from limb, skewer him alive, gut the man and paint the world with his blood. Dark thoughts rushed through his mind and he was going to enjoy killing the Baron. Finally he found it in himself to speak clearly.
"I'm gonna KILL PRAXIS." Jak roared at the top of his lungs and his eyes began to haze over with blackness. The blob clamped what he perceived a hand over his mouth, frantic.
"SHHHHH!- Quiet! Right now we gotta get you outta here.. Just let me figure out how to open the security locks on the chair so I-" Daxter froze mid sentence, feeling himself being flung hard, landing on the platform below while watching Jak.
Jak felt a rush of something- Power, blood-thirst, a lust for murder.. It was overwhelming, and dare he say it, a bit exciting in the most feral ways. In the blink of an eye, something primal, buried deep within came to life. His blue eyes faded to blackness, beady and filled with hatred. His skin paled to a ghostly blue-grey while once blond-green hair dulled to a lifeless silver. Thick black talons erupted from his fingertips and a maelstrom of violet lightning danced around him, threatening to claw at anything within range of the now dark beast.
"Or uh.. You could do it.." Daxter murmured, ears flat against his skull as he cowered away. He quickly found himself between a rock and a hard place, heel of one footpaw slipping off the edge of the platform. The orange creature curled his tail and tried to make himself as insignificant, fearing for his life. "Jak.. Easy now- Easy buddy.."
The creature looked upon the orange fuzzy rat with a sick combination of hunger and hatred. Blinded with a murderous rage, it raised both hands and brandished the talons- poised to strike. With a few heavy footsteps, it closed in for the kill and with a defiant roar, raised both hands and brought them in for the kill.
"I-It's your old pal Daxter!" Daxter turned away, arms crossed over his head as he brought one leg up and curled it inward, tail wrapped around his other ankle. Any second he expected to be skewered but felt nothing- instead he heard the tired, almost frightened voice of his friend.
"..Daxter...?" Jak was back, the dark creature that stood in his place just a moment ago now just a memory, yet it lurked in his mind nonetheless, waiting for the next time it could break free and wreak havoc. Jak stumbled, bending low and rubbing his face. He could feel it, cursing him, demanding to be let loose. There was a pause as Daxter struggled to regain his composure and not wet himself in fear. Finally he swallowed the lump in his throat and his usual charm returned.
"What the HECK was that?" The ottsel half-shrieked, placing a comforting paw on Jak's calf. "Sheesh-Remind me not to piss you off.." Daxter could see Jak had been very much worse for wear, and the last two years had been no kinder to him then they had been to himself. Then he eyeballed the bundle of clothes he'd brought along, knowing his pal would prefer a nice change of clothes. He padded over to pick them up. "C'mon tall, dark, and gruesome. We're outta here. Oh also- I uh.. Brought you some new threads. Put 'em on." He lifted the clothing for Jak and he took them, mustering a smile as best he could.
Jak wasted no time in finding a secluded corner, away from the prying eyes of the cells and any possible guard patrols. Then he quickly stripped bare, discarding the rags they called clothing. The new clothing was a bit tight, but it was loose enough in the places that mattered and he wasn't complaining. Once dressed, he took a moment to appreciate not being in his cell or being escorted by a small platoon- Perhaps the best thing was not being tied down to that wretched chair.
"Jak, what's the hold up- lets blow this taco stand." Daxter took his rightful place atop his friend's shoulder, half curled into a ball. The prison gave him the creeps.
"We can't leave yet." Jak said, now looking around to get his bearings. This chamber was annexed to a series of corridors that housed a few cells, and ultimatly lead to cell block D- where he'd been housed for the last two years. But that girl.. He hadn't the foggiest where she'd be now.
"What you wanna leave a 'Jak was here' letter or something? We don't have time for that buddy.." Daxter scanned the area frequently. The only way he'd been able to rescue Jak was because he'd managed to exploit a gap in their patrols. Another was due any minute now and just when he thought he could hear the digital distortion unique to the Guards, Jak took off like a bat out of hell.
He had to find her. He just had to. She'd been the only person he'd met in this prison that wasn't completely fucked in the head. She also stood up for him, and taken a beating for it. Now that he could actually thank her for it properly, he absolutely needed to and he'd repay the favor by freeing her from this living hell.
"Jak are you crazy? The exit's the other way!" Daxter protested, albeit barely above a whisper so as to not draw attention to them.
"Dax I really appreciate you rescuing me but there's someone I have to save." Jak skidded around a corner, then searched for and kind of navigation aid. A sign on the wall infront of him had various text pointing to different hallways. There was one additional wing aside from the lettered ones, labelled Solitary. He slowed to a brisk yet quiet walk, the leather-soled boots Daxter had provided for him working well to dampen his foot steps in contrast to the loud ruckous the boots of the Guards made.
Security was steadily becoming tighter. There was something down in Solitary that the guards did not want escaping. Jak had a pretty good hunch who it was. After all, he lost count of the number of times there had been alarms for a prisoner escape in progress. He'd hear the guards talk about it afterwards, how it was always the girl with the long black hair.
"Are you trying to get us caught?" Daxter half-yelled into Jak's ear but he paid little mind as he rounded a corner. The patrols were spaced evenly enough that he was able to sneak by and into the hallway leading to the Solitary wing.
The wing was unlike anything else he'd seen in the prison. There were only around a dozen cells, all labeled with the ID Number of the prisoner currently occupying them. Each door was easily a foot thick, solid metal with two massive dead bolts secured by electronic locks. His eyes scanned the ID codes one at a time until finally he saw the door that read 'D305'- and at either side of the door stood two guards.
"Sake.." He muttered softly and Daxter only looked at him curiously.
"..Wait. We're rescuing some chick? There'll more time later to pick up dates man!" Daxter glared and Jak half growled back.
"Yes. Now shh.." Jak put a finger infront of his mouth and Daxter nodded. However due to the arrangement of the hallway, there'd be no way to take out the guards without triggering an alarm or having them see him. Then he noticed that ceiling above was lined with thick pipes- perfect to hide on and walk on easily. With the agility of a cat, he leapt against a wall, rebounding before throwing himself up onto the pipes. Mere seconds later a team of guards rounded the corner, none the wiser to his presence.
Slowly he made his way to the end of the wing where he devised a distraction to draw them away from the cell door. An old bolt from one of the pipes would do the trick and after plucking it free, he gently lobbed the piece of debris. The two guards exchanged curious looks before going to investigate. Jak couldn't believe it actually worked and once they had passed below him, he dropped down, landing noiselessly. From his vantage point he could easily eliminate the two guards by smashing their heads together. They crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
"Alright we're clear.." Jak turned to face the cell. It was centered in the back wall and was the only cell that had been guarded at all. Surely there was a reason. He took a moment to analyze the locking mechanism and found some sort of slot in the top of a flat metal panel, and two indicator lights. "Dax, grab that guard's key-card."
"On it." Daxter jumped off, sprinting toward the unconscious guards before plucking both of their security passes from their armor and holding them in his mouth as he sprinted back. Jak took one, slipped it into the slot and the red light faded as the green lit, indicating that the cell door had been unlocked. He stood back and watched as both dead bolts were drawn away to either side, then there came a buzz and a heavy noise as something inside was unlocked. Then the door swung open of its own accord and he stood in awe.
The area inside was pitch black and what little light that poured in fell over a body curled up in the center, half shrouded by his own shadow. The air inside was stagnant and wreaked of decay. It nearly knocked him off his feet but cautiously Jak stepped in to investigate. The hair on Daxter's neck stood on end, everything telling him this was the absolute worst place to be.
Jak stepped aside to let all the light fall on the body on the floor. Immediately his heart leapt and he knealt to get a better look. He carefully moved clumped black hair aside to reveal the individuals face and instantly he could tell it was Sake. He placed a hand in front of her mouth and gritted his teeth when he felt no breath.
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