Jak and Daxter: Legacy

Chapter 7: A Truth a Day Keeps the Ottsel Away

Jak awoke to Daxter in a tree above, orange fur and blue eyes bright as firelight danced across him. What was Daxter doing up there? And where in Nadoa were they?

Judging by the eco pipes that glimmered in the distance, they weren't far from Basinbreak. A campfire crackled to Jak's right. Within its glow, he could make out a grotto's pool on its other side, as well as various items Daxter must have strewn about in a frenzy; clothes, food, and salve jars tucked in the soft grass and sand.

His hand and arm ached as he lifted them, wrapped in bandages tied haphazard. Jak tried to peel away the cloth on his bicep, but sticky, dried blood had glued it down. The wound beneath stung like a wolfadger's bite tenfold. He had to let it drop back down after a minute.

Daxter still had not said anything by the time Jak finished gaining his bearings. The ottsel was only staring, black nose twitching as he sniffed the air, peering over his paws and the branches at Jak. Jak sat up and squinted his eyes. Something wasn't right. There was a silver shine beneath Daxter's paws. A moment - and a pat of his empty belt - later, Jak realized it was his own dagger.

"You plotting my death up there, or something?" Jak asked at last. "And what'd you do to our supplies? If you wanted some more jerky, you could have just asked."

Daxter remained silent, not even shuddering at the mention of jerky.

"You okay?" Jak waited, flopped back down, and grumbled. "Maybe you never could talk? Sanity, have you returned to me?"

"You're you," Daxter blurted.

"What?"

"Your eyes did this pupil thingy, and then your veins and skin got all weird. And then those ugly mutts, they..." Daxter shivered. "It was nothin' I'd ever seen before. I mean, ya cut your hand pretty bad and they chew toyed your arm good, but you just kept goin'. Like nothing could stop you. I don't think I've ever seen so much blood. You've still got it all over your face and legs and, well… everything."

Jak rubbed his cheek with his healthy hand. Dried blood of a strange color came off with it. He gawked at it in his palm and beneath his fingernails, then scratched his shoulders, chest, and calves. It was as if he were chiseling himself free from a painting, flakes of oil night sky raining onto the grass around him.

He realized what Daxter was talking about - and where the blood was from - as he continued, memories flooding him like a waterfall into a meager cup, drowning him in wide-eyed shame.

A Metal Head, leaping right at Daxter, the planks of the cave's entrance raining in splintery bits. An instinct in Jak's gut, drawing him forward. Wood and claws lashing his back. Breath on his arm, colder than ice, turning to a gnawing, burning bite as little blue eyes stare on in horror.

Then nothing. That must have been when the eco had taken over. They'd made it out alive, which meant nothing else had.

Jak swallowed hard and tried to back up, though the stone wall of the grotto soon stopped him. He wanted to tuck away into the darkness and hide. Or something, anything to avoid Daxter's gaze, still trained on him. For now, hiding his face behind a propped knee and arm had to suffice.

It was Kunino all over again. But this time, he couldn't run and wash the blood away.

"I'm sorry," Jak blurted. "They were going to kill us and I couldn't- I can't control it. It just comes over me and then…"

I slaughter everything in sight, no better than those monsters, Jak finished in thought. No wonder why he held onto my dagger. Probably thought I was going to snap his throat, too.

The only sound for a long while was the campfire, devouring pine sticks happily, making their needles curl like angry red wires before letting them fall. He didn't dare glance up at Daxter, fearing the ottsel wouldn't be there. Eventually, there came a scrabbling of claws on bark. Jak held his breath.

He's really leaving. Why do I care, though? I wanted him gone a few days ago, anyways. You knew it wouldn't last. Everyone goes. That's just how it is.

Jak grit his teeth and shut his eyes tight, the dark eco in his chest changing from numb to prickling like needles into his flesh. His head started to pound and his heart slowed, lungs screaming for air, but he still wouldn't draw breath.

He finally let it out as tears broke over his eyelids. Jak hid his face even deeper in his arm. Weak. The word repeated in his mind. Weak for caring. For not being strong enough to travel on alone and endangering others because of his selfish loneliness. For being a terrible fighter who curled into a ball at the first taste of danger. For giving into the dark eco every single time he was afraid. For always being afraid.

Weak for crying about it like he was five all over again, bawling behind a palm tree in the jungle by Sandover, far into the dusk even when he'd been warned beasts might be about.

"You'd better not hurt them."

"What are you talking about?"

"My mom said you're gonna hurt Samos and Keira."

"I… don't get it. I wouldn't hurt them. They're my best friends!"

"Yeah, that's 'cause no one else wants to be friends with a demon. They're the only ones nice enough to put themselves in danger to stick with you."

"I've never hurt anybody!"

"Not yet."

Jak pushed himself up and - ignoring the burning of his wounded arm and hand - grabbed a salve jar from the grass nearby and lodged it at the grotto's stone wall. Glass shimmered in the firelight as it shattered.

Red started to leak from his bandages and glisten down his arm. He ignored it and grabbed another jar.

Smash!

And another.

Smash!

Jak glared at the map Samos had given him. It had also been torn from his pack, crumpled at the edges from days of twisting it to and fro as he'd traveled north. He crunched it into a ball, threw it into the flames, and watched with both hopelessness and satisfaction as the orange ate it with black teeth. Then he struck the sand nearby, spraying golden fans onto the fire until the flames died to embers.

"A little overreaction, much?"

Jak turned towards the source. Daxter was sitting on a rock nearby, tail wrapped around his paws, calmly staring as if nothing had happened.

"What are you still doing here?" Jak asked. "I thought you'd left?"

"Huh?"

"You know, because I'm a crazy, angry freak!?"

The ottsel cocked his head to the side.

"You saw what happened back there, right? Why else would you have held onto my dagger? You're afraid of me, aren't you?"

"No?"

Jak's rage died to irritation, then to pure confusion. Was this ottsel insane? He fumbled around for something else to throw. A small stone met his fingers. He lobbed it at Daxter. The ottsel dodged and hissed.

"Sheesh, what's your problem!?"

"I'm doing you a favor. Get out of here!"

Daxter leaped onto Jak's healthy hand and scurried up his arm, then put his paws on Jak's cheeks and stared right into his eyes.

"Nadoa to Jak, calm the hell down! Everything's fine! Take a deep breath, ya big idiot. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack, if not get your pissy dander all riled up again."

Jak shook his head to throw Daxter off, but the ottsel held on. "Get off of me!"

Daxter crawled from Jak's face to the top of his head. The two played hide and swat, Daxter ducking every swipe Jak threw at him and squeaking out, "I ain't… leavin' ya! Ya saved... my life… you big idiot!"

Jak stopped. Saved his life? His breath slowed and calmed as he did, then he shut his eyes, the weight of the ottsel on his head as annoying as it was comforting.

"Ya done? Cause I ain't lettin' go 'til you are."

Jak sighed. "Fine. Can you get off of me now?"

"Deal," Daxter pounced to the grass and gathered some cloth scraps. "Now, let's patch you up again. And you better not mess up the bandages this time, 'cause it took me way too long to tie 'em on ya last time. Ever tried lifting a limp human arm with paws this small?"

"You patched me up?"

"Nah, a Precursor floated down from the stars and wept as he tenderly wrapped your wounds with his blessed hands. He even kissed your booboos before he left, too!"

"Very funny."

"Alright then, tantrum boy, tell me how to properly do this."

Jak nodded and set to work with Daxter, soothed by the familiar rhythm of wiping away blood and patching skin together with green eco, frail as his ability to channel it was. Daxter ran back and forth to the nearby stream to soak the wiping cloth, gather more bandages, and retrieve larger shards of the pots Jak had thrown that still had some salve on them.

As he tied off the final bandage, Jak looked Daxter over, searching for wounds. "Your turn?"

"Nah, don't need any."

"What?"

"I'm fine. No bumps or bruises on this ottsel. Those monsters about pissed their metal pants when you were fighting 'em. I mean, don't get me wrong, it was one of the most disgusting things I ever saw. Or heard, rather. But how many people on Nadoa can say that they defeated a whole pack of Metal Heads with nothin' but a sword and bare hands? Why do ya think we're still alive? Like I said, if you hadn't done somethin', we would have become dinner!"

"I thought you were gonna send me to the grave, too," Daxter picked a stick up in his mouth and poked at the fire, urging the embers to bite at the log again, then tossed the stick aside. "But once you were done with 'em, you just plucked me up and we went on our merry way. 'Til ya collapsed here in this hollow, of course. Now I owe ya four debts, damn it. You're gonna need to start keeping a list, soon."

The fire sparked and grew again.

"When I woke up, you had my dagger in your-"

"That's because I was afraid more of 'em would come runnin'," Daxter found the dagger in the grass where it'd fallen when he'd come down from the tree, then dragged it over with his mouth. "I hid in the tree so I could watch the entrance to the hollow and get a jump on 'em, if need be. They wouldn't have known what hit 'em!"

Jak heavily doubted that, but the explanation brought some comfort to him. His dark eco wound died to numbness again as he sheathed the dagger in his belt.

They sat before the fire together for a long while, just as they had most nights before. Jak stared at Daxter with his brow raised whenever the ottsel wasn't looking. Daxter was too busy munching on dried moonfruit, licking his fur clean, then rolling over and watching the stars above to notice. It was like nothing had happened at all.

He didn't even run when I threw things at him, Jak thought. And doesn't he care about how dangerous I am?

"Aren't you going to ask me about it?"

"'Bout what?"

"My problem?"

"I'm a talkin' ottsel, Jak. I can't really go about asking you questions, now, can I? But-" he shrugged. "We could be a little bit more open with each other, if you ask me."

"Explain?"

"How about a truth a day? We get to ask each other one question a day that the other has to answer one hundred percent truthfully, no matter what."

Jak grimaced thinking of all the excruciating things Daxter might ask, especially because he was Daxter.

"And if we're uncomfortable answering?"

"Then it won't work. You'll bottle up all your edgy angst, and I'll keep wonderin' why everything I say or don't say makes ya look like I pissed on your leg. Nah, full, complete, honest to the Precursors truths, no holds barred, nitty gritty, too much information to the utmost extreme."

Jak shifted uncomfortably. Full truths. Even so, he had the opportunity to ask things in return. Curiosity seared in his gut so intensely he almost expected a hole to burn through what was left of his torn shirt.

"Damn it. Fine."

"So, what's next? My favorite color? The weirdest dream I've ever had? I don't know… how many leaks I take in a day?"

"What? Why would I want to know that, ya weirdo?"

Jak rolled his eyes. Four days and four questions had passed since the night they began their little truth game. He'd expected everything would have changed between them since Basinbreak, or that Daxter had lied, did care, and would run at the first opportunity, but all went on as it had before. Daxter spent their restocking excursion in Basinside Village - and now, their trek through the Precursor Basin itself - yapping along as Jak half listened, too busy stewing in the question of what Daxter wasn't saying to pay attention to what he was.

At times, he'd grow so frustrated he'd tune Daxter out completely and find other ways to pass the time. To his estimation, they'd walked by exactly twenty-two caravans, twelve Precursor ruins, and three bends of the Brass River. He'd heard from passing caravans that the reason it flowed a bronze color was because yellow eco leaked into it up north. It didn't seem to bother the wildlife much; gold and green carp splashed from the water at times, and wild flut fluts gathered in herds to drink from it, their blue feathers shining under the hot suns.

"Think they taste like chicken?" Daxter asked.

"Is that your dumb question for the day?"

"What's wrong with the questions I've been asking?"

"I have freaky weird rage powers and you've asked me… let's see," Jak cocked his head and counted on his fingers. "Number one was how old I am. Number two was what the worst food I've ever had was. Three was about what it feels like to channel green eco. And yesterday, you asked what color hair my 'favorite babes' had. What's with you and hair color, anyways? You've been pushing me about that since the day we met."

"Hey, you can tell a lot about a person by what they prefer with that stuff!"

"And green hair means?"

"Poor taste."

The pack on Jak's back almost fell off as he laughed. He shrugged it back on. "Trust me, if you knew the girl with green hair that I did, you'd never say that again."

"She that attractive?"

"It wasn't just that," Jak's eyes almost gleamed as he continued, "She was like a partner in crime. Always getting into things she shouldn't with me. Pranks, dares, adventuring into the woods, going into forbidden places…"

A clever grin slunk across Daxter's face.

"Like Precursor ruins," Jak said, "There were a lot by our village. We'd pick around them and sneak out all sorts of odd things."

"Just rootin' around and oilin' some machinery in there, eh?"

Jak raised a brow. "Machinery? Haven't you ever been in one before? Almost none of them still have anything running."

Daxter's smile scrunched to an irritated frown. "Not for you, at least."

"What?"

"I'll tell ya when you're older."

Jak started to remember a somewhere else and somewhere better, not caring to decipher what the ottsel had meant. A place with salt-tinged air, little huts cocooned in red stone cliffs, and simple worries, always bathed in light.

Here in the Precursor Basin, the wind smelled of wet, cloying earth, and the only thing that surrounded was ruin. Rusting Precursor arches and buildings spanned above and beside, perfect in symmetry and shape despite their age. Broken wagons sat aside the road, a few recent, judging by the sacks of rotting fruit on their backs. Even the sky above couldn't stay whole, gray encroaching on its blue. There were no sages or green haired girls here, either.

Jak's hand went to his chest, smile fading as he gripped his shirt, stare falling to his feet instead of the path ahead.

"Metal Heads get you there, too?"

"No," Jak jerked his hand back to his side. "Just had an itch."

Hours passed. Rolling hills turned to flat land, the Brass River now ribboning before them for miles. But it wasn't the sheer distance of sight that stunned Jak as he and Daxter met the top of a final hill. It was what blocked that sight that numbed him so much that his pack slipped from his shoulders and he didn't budge to pick it back up as he stood there, slack-jawed.

The path before them turned from meandering dirt to carefully placed stone. Giant rectangular pools stretched aside it, lilies spreading like a dusting of snow atop their waters. Then there were the cogs and wheels and pipes that peeked everywhere from the brush, some a finger length in width, others a hundred feet in height.

Beyond them sat a city older than Nadoa's recorded history, Jak was sure. Huge conical towers stretched towards the heavens, dotted with blue eco veins and stacks that had once poured out smoke, now home to thousands of white birds. Ancient eco cannons sat pointed towards the sky. Machines with wings hung from metal docks that spread like arms from the towers' highest levels.

Then there were the mechs. They made the one in the ruins back home look like an ant. Each was frozen, as if time had stopped for them mid-battle, some kneeling on the ground with arms torn and yellow eyes long shattered, others standing and aiming upwards, weapons never fired at whatever had threatened them from above.

Jak wished he hadn't burned their map. Daxter knew the way north well enough that they didn't need it, but Jak wanted to know this place's name more than anything.

"Is that Haven?"

"Pssh, no!" Daxter chuckled. "Haven makes this place look like a pile of sticks and rocks. This is just some old, Precursor crap."

"What!? This is the most mindblowing thing I've ever seen!" Jak's voice sent some of the white birds nearby flying. "This is like… I can't even-"

"Spoken like a true bumpkin."

"How can you not be impressed? Just look at this place!"

"One, I've seen it before. Two, Haven's bigger. Three, all it is is a living - or dead, should I say - testament to how stupid the Precursors were."

Jak was no religious fanatic beyond simple prayers and following green tribe customs, even having been a sage's apprentice, and certainly had a few gripes with the gods himself, but he still fidgeted and made a gesture at Daxter's reply. It was a simple downturn of his pinky finger to make it look like he only had four fingers total. Back home, it was as common as a handshake, done during prayers or when wishing for something. But Daxter rolled his eyes at it.

"Oh, come on! What, ya think they're gonna come rainin' down from the sky and spank me for callin' them idiots? Also, you're gonna have to quit actin' like they're the greatest thing since sliced tuberbread. Up north, they make hatin' the Precursors a fashion. You pop that reverential crap and hand wavin' garbage up there and they'll know instantly you're from down here. And then they'll bring out the shackles and start askin' ya if you've channeled any eco lately."

"I don't think they're the greatest thing since… whatever you said. But where I'm from, we're told to always stay from Precursor ruins because they're supposed to be sacred. Going into one is like stomping all over someone's grave."

Daxter rocked back onto his haunches and crossed his arms. "If ya think we're gonna turn down this ruin tonight for campin' in a wet grass patch crawlin' with ticks and leechwigs, you're sorely mistaken."

"No, but my point is, is that I'm surprised my people never encouraged us to go into them. It's like, when their places are forbidden and you never see them, you never really grasp just how advanced they really were. They're this distant concept. But here, up close, it makes them all the more real. They really did come here and build all these things," Jak paused, more entranced every moment as he struggled to take each detail in. "They really were gods."

"If they were so great, then why aren't they still around?"

"I don't know."

Jak hadn't thought about it much before. Why had the Precursors left? The stories his people told were that they'd finished their work building Nadoa and its creatures, then ascended back to the heavens, far but always watching. The amber swathe across the night sky was the worlds they'd created before and after Nadoa, clustered together, brighter than the others that had not been crafted by their hands.

"The answer lies in the fact that there is no answer. They weren't great, otherwise they'd still be here to tell you themselves instead of just leavin' you to figure it out all on your own. They're like that dad that goes to get fish from the market and never returns 'cause he's got some broad somewhere else."

Jak wanted to argue, but the words he'd said in the ruins back home echoed in his head:

"I'm sick of you. You placed us here and then you left. And the worst part is, is that I'm not even supposed to ask any questions. I don't even know who you are!"

"Well, maybe they couldn't stay?" Jak said at last.

Daxter narrowed his eyes, sprang back to all fours, and glanced away. "Come on, let's go sleep in the halls of your gods. They're not usin' 'em anymore."

Jak twisted and turned as they entered the city, ducking under cogs and pipes, squeezing down alleys of bronze and stone. All was silent, save for the wind and creak of ancient things. At last, they came to a staircase that befit a place as grand as this. Jak wondered how many thousands of Precursors had once climbed it as he and Daxter now did, the steps bright red as the setting suns' light struck the metal.

Jak stopped just before the entrance.

"Bigfoot, how many times do I have to tell ya: you're not gonna get cursed for comin' here. Bigfoot? Ya with me? Come on!"

Jak ignored the ottsel teeth pulling at his pants leg. The dark eco in his chest had started to prickle. But why? There was no danger here. In fact, he hadn't seen any people or animals for quite a while now. Every time he threatened to take a step forward, his wound tingled again.

"Is there a reason why we haven't seen anyone around here?"

"Yes, because just like you, everyone down here thinks this place is a demon nest. Merchants from the north that don't care for superstitions camp here sometimes, though. I saw a few last time I was around."

"Was that out here in the city, or in the actual buildings?"

"Both. Now, get your butt movin'! I wanna get to the crystal before nightfall."

"Crystal?"

The ottsel slipped into the darkness ahead. Jak bit his lip as he crept in, the metal floors - untouched by sunlight in there - a familiar, cold sensation against his feet. They were in a grand central room, large glass tubes criss-crossing above to other parts of the complex. Sliding doors lined the walls beneath vast arches, and in the center was another huge pool. A statue stood in the still waters. Jak walked up to stand in its shadow, unblinking, having never seen one so detailed and intact before.

It had a tall head like an octopus', but it was solid with shiny bone plates, arcing down to eyes like thin rings floating in black pools. Its muzzle pointed downwards and sat against its chest directly, for it had no neck, a single large hole at the bottom for… a nose or a mouth, Jak surmised. Two more holes were on each of its shoulders, but whether they were for seeing or for breathing, Jak wasn't sure.

Feet with huge, blunt-ended claws and two toes in the front and one behind supported its digitigrade legs. Its arms did not come from its shoulders. Instead, they emerged from a circular bone plate at its heart. Four-fingered hands grasped a giant staff, their long claws sharp, curling back against the brass handle.

"Weird, aren't they?" Daxter climbed up its leg and back to sit on its head, then chuckled. "Best seat in the house, eh?"

"What is it?"

"Ya worshiped these guys and you didn't even know what they looked like?"

"That's a Precursor!?"

"The goober eyes and chicken legs didn't give it away?"

"The ruins back home never had any statues. And the few I've seen so far since were broken or worn down. Every depiction we had of them looked like angry old men, so I just assumed…"

"Then why do you do that four-fingered thingy whenever you're praying?" Daxter climbed down its arm and tapped on its hand. "Humans have five."

Jak shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe the tribes knew at one point and then forgot, but kept the gesture?"

Daxter rolled his eyes and scurried back down the statue. He led Jak down countless corridors. Water seemed to flow everywhere, be it through pipes, down channels alongside the halls, or in circular pools in the many rooms they passed. Vines and moss strangled almost every wall, leaking water shining beneath or over them. The air, previously muggy, turned to a chilly mist as they continued deeper and higher.

The darkness encroached further and the wound in Jak's chest burned stronger, but he wasn't afraid, nor did it threaten to take him over like it usually did. Did dark eco have other triggers beyond fear and pain? Or was something else here affecting it?

"You sure you know where you're going?"

"Almost there, Bigfoot. See that light up ahead?"

Jak nodded. There was a glow like sunshine at the end of the tunnel. As they neared, Jak had to squint his eyes and recoil, and a supernatural warmth soothed his skin. They entered a room unlike anything he'd ever seen. Glass walls surrounded, giving them a view of the whole Precursor Basin and the night sky outside, a glittering mix of stars, the Brass River gleaming in the moonlight, and golden orbs swinging as caravans passed on the road nearby, their way lit with lanterns. Jak pressed against the windows like a child enraptured by a fairytale.

He turned around to inspect the room's center. Brass bits floated about a large crystal, slave to no gravity. It reminded Jak of the small green eco crystals that dotted Jade Forest. This one, however, was as large as Samos' hut had been tall, gleamed pure white, and was the source of the strange light and warmth in the room; an eternal spring of brightness that turned the ceiling into a rainbow of colors.

"What is that?"

"A light eco crystal."

"Light eco," Jak repeated, casting his stare downwards in thought. "I'm surprised no one's tried to mine and sell this thing. I've never heard of it being in crystal form before."

"No one comes up here much. Merchants camp out in the lower levels, sure, but even they get afraid of how maze-like places like this get. Plus, how would ya haul it out of here? You'd need a flying tanker, if not a fleet of like, a hundred yakows."

Jak tried to walk closer to it, but the dark eco in his chest started to sear.

"Is it… harmful?"

"Light eco? Nah, you can touch it."

Jak winced as he put a trembling hand to the crystal. It was pleasantly hot to the touch, yet cold at the same time. It was like dark eco that way; a strange dichotomy of opposites. He smiled, stood there for a long while, then backed up as the burning in his heart grew too intense.

The dark eco within him couldn't stand it, he realized. Even at the entrance, it'd sensed the light eco all the way up here, growing as their nearness to the crystal did, pushing and pulling like waves and shore, shaping the other.

"Cool, huh?" Daxter said with a toothy grin. "Wanna stay here tonight?"

Maybe it'd be good for me? Jak wondered. Light eco is dark's opposite. Could it help? Or maybe it'd make it worse? The burning did get more intense the closer we got.

Daxter caught his reluctant look and sighed. "Yeah, might get kinda hard to sleep with an almost sun in the room. Let's get back to the lower levels."

They did so and started a fire on a charred patch by the entrance statue and pool, then set out blankets on the cold floor. Jak cooked rice and fish, their smell chasing the damp and must away, while Daxter dunked himself into the algae-ridden pool to bathe.

"Not sure that's the cleanest stuff, Dax!"

The splashing behind him ceased. "Exactly! The fleas don't like it, either!"

Jak rolled his eyes and smiled. He watched the city outside as he stirred the pot. A few lights had wandered near. His muscles tensed as they spread out and grew, nearing the building they were in.

A caravan. Three yakows pulled it forward, while a Kig, a Klaww, and a human walked alongside it. Shock pierced his gut as he saw what they were transporting: a cage full of Babak and humans, the echoes of their jangling chains and shackles bouncing across the streets.

"Ah, there looks like a good place! And a fire's already been built. Friendlies, you think?"

The Klaww smiled a needly grin at the human. "They'd better be. My gun's ready just in case, though."

The Kig at their side gave an amused grunt.

Jak whistled two short, low notes. Daxter instantly sprung from the pool and hid behind Jak's leg at the sound, silent, peeking around it to watch the newcomers. They saw Jak, whispered amongst themselves, then sent the human forward, first.

"'Ello, you seem like you've got a nice fire going there!"

He was a wiry young man with black hair, perhaps a few years older than Jak. His belt jangled with an array of mismatched keys, a few clanking against the pistols on his hips. His ears were much shorter than Jak's, looking like they'd been intentionally cut to stumps and then pierced. Jak was curious about his clothing, especially his boots, and the strange shiny material that made up the vest he wore over his white shirt.

A northerner, Jak thought.

"Got cotton in your ears? I said 'ello, boy."

"Hello," Jak finally answered, eyebrow raised, his grip around the spoon he'd been stirring the pot with tightening.

"Ah, not a mute after all! Name's Vend. This here is Yi," he nodded at the Klaww, then gestured towards the Kig. "And that's Drun. We noticed someone was up here and thought we'd combine efforts. You've got a fire and we're well-armed. Savvy a swap of services?"

Is that a threat? Jak asked in thought, then thought better of acting hostile. "Sure, I don't see why not?"

Vend grinned. "Cheery attitudes are so rare on the road. Just for that, we'll throw in some stories 'round your fire and share some food, free of charge."

Jak nodded. Daxter slunk further behind him as Yi, Drun, and Vend settled nearby. As they talked to each other about their day, ignoring Jak, he studied the slave cart. They'd let the yakows free to munch on grass just outside the entrance. The Babaks and humans inside the cart - most of vibrant, tribal hair - were kept squished together. Some were mere cubs or toddlers. Others had hair as white as Samos' had been. But they all shared a common air of defeat; a hopelessness that left their legs and arms dangling limp out of the bars.

"Tell us about yourself, kid!"

Jak startled at Vend's voice. He blinked absently for a few seconds, then muttered, "What do you want to know?"

Little ottsel teeth nibbled at Jak's free arm. Jak patted Daxter's shoulder; I know, it meant.

"Well, where are you from? What's your name? Where are you headed?"

Jak noticed how their eyes were set so intensely on him and swallowed hard. "Not too far from here. Name's Jak. I'm going north to Haven."

"Haven?" Drun said with a sneer. "You got rich family there, kid?"

"Look at 'im! Does he look like some noble brat to you? No offense… Jak, was it?" Vend said, eying up Jak's bare feet and bright hair.

"None taken. And no, I'm going to try to find work there."

"Tribal life not suit you?"

Jak grimaced. He instinctively made the four-fingered gesture again at his side, praying they would buy it. Shit, he knows. Doesn't mean he can I tell I can use eco, though.

Vend brought his stare up from Jak's hand and smiled. "Ah, don't worry! We're not in the market of bringing kids back home to mum and dad."

No, you're in the market of snatching them away from their parents, Jak thought.

Yi lit up a cigar, puffed on it, then glanced sideways at Jak as she blew smoke back out. "Food's burning, human."

"What?"

Jak glanced down. The rice was starting to brown. He fueled his nervousness into stirring it fast, glad for an excuse to stop talking. Vend and Drun lumbered over to the slave cart as Yi smoked and started cooking as well. They were letting the slaves out, one by one, to relieve themselves outside, Drun holding them by their chains.

To Jak's horror, he recognized two of them. The first was a familiar Babak, notable by the exact nature of the scars on his back. Jak remembered the caravan in the Glass Meadows and the Babak that had been shackled to it. How he'd drawn in the sand with a claw and the smile he'd given when Jak had snuck him a moonfruit when no one was looking.

The Babak met Jak's stare again and stopped his slow march.

"Now, I know you're still navel-gazing over how your old master took an unfortunate tumble into Basinbreak, but when your new owner tells you to move, you probably-" Vend whipped out one of his pistols and shot it, the yellow eco bullet cracking into the metal floor by the Babak's feet. "-should."

The Babak fell over, then scurried back up and forward, following Drun's lead.

The second familiar face was one Jak couldn't quite place. He was a human of middle age and looked like he'd shaved his head at one point, but now the hair was just starting to come back in dark green patches. It was his eyes that stood out, though. Gray, and the right one had a scar through it.

Jak found out who he was when the man started to scream.

"It's him!" the gray eyed man screeched when he saw Jak, flopping about in his shackles. "That's the one that killed my sister!"

"Should I wrap the chains around his neck, Vend?" Drun asked.

Vend cracked his pistol against the man's face. "Quit rambling and start walking!"

Blood spattered onto the floor and the gray eyed man reeled, but he didn't stop yelping. "It's him you want, not me! It wasn't just my sister. He slaughtered all my band when we were raiding some little flyspeck village."

Yi laughed. "Seems innocent to me."

"Seems. When he gets mad, he turns into some kind of… horrendous, ravenous monster! I was the only one left by the time he was done. Later, I overheard some of the villagers talking. Said he had green eco powers, too - sage trained - and used them to heal 'em up after we'd first attacked the town. He'd fetch a pretty price at market, I bet! Some war-raging lord would fancy him a good, self-healing weapon."

Jak was already on his feet, dark eco wound hot, ready to run or fight to the death. As the slavers' eyes narrowed, he put his hand to his sword tucked in his belt, glancing between all of them, wondering which would strike first. Daxter was at his side, fur bristling, teeth bared.

Vend laughed.

"Doesn't look like a seaweed to me. Kid's blond and blue eyed," Vend rolled his eyes. "And too tan of skin. Drun, take bandit boy out back and remind him fifty times what a lash feels like. Don't worry about scarring him up, either. An ecoless mite like him won't fetch much of a price, anyways."

"Sure, boss."

'Bandit boy' flopped to the ground when Drun yanked on his shackles. He screamed as he was dragged out of the building, then around the corner. The crack of a whip - and screeching - cut through the awkward silence that followed.

Vend came forward, holstered his pistol, and put his hand on Jak's shoulder. "My apologies. They often get a little riled after first capture. They'll say anything to convince you to free them."

The slaves were locked up again after they'd finished pissing and eating their meager rations. Meanwhile, the slavers chuckled around the fire as they themselves feasted on large quantities of meat, bread, noodles, and even some sweets towards the end.

Jak let his nervousness go as they shared their food with him and Daxter. They told stories of places between there to Haven, chatted on about what they'd do with the money these slaves would fetch them (something Jak pretended to share excitement for), and puffed on cigars until the fire was only embers.

"We ready for lights out?" Vend asked them all as he fetched water from the pool.

Everyone nodded.

"Very well. Then let us rest. Especially you, Jak. You've traveled quite a long way from the south, haven't you? You deserve the rest more than us all."

Jak curled into his blanket with a smile and chuckled. "Sleep sounds good."

"Then to all, a good night," Vend replied.

Jak quietly sighed at the sound of embers sizzling out and breathed in calming smoke. Just as he was about to fall asleep, Vend started to whisper.

"Drun, the checker?"

"Of course, boss."

Jak eyes snapped open. The 'checker'? What in the hell is that?

The thudding of Drun's footsteps neared. A shadow fell over Jak, blocking out the moonlight above.

"Something wrong?" Jak asked, turning over.

Drun had a strange device in his three fingers. He leaned down, snatched Jak out of his blanket by the wrist, and dangled him in the air.

"What the hell are-!?"

Jak stopped as part of the device was clamped around his arm. The other end of it was still in Drun's hand, the Kig grinning as he tapped a button on the box. A surge of energy flooded through Jak and out through his hands, first as green eco, then blue, and then a kind Jak had seen only once before. Strange electricity sparked from his palms, turning the walls purple as it lashed out, striking a line of burning veins from his hand all the way back to his heart, where the dark eco mark now seared.

"Shit, Vend, he's not just a green sa-"

"Hurry and chain him, Drun!"

Cold shackles bit at Jak's ankles. Jak wrestled as much as he could. He managed to free one hand from Drun's, fumbling for his dagger and sword. Yi jumped forward and took them out before he could grab them. She elbowed Jak in the gut. He sputtered out spit and blood, tongue bitten. The dark eco now threatened to take over, his vision blacking out, rage rising as unbearable pain did.

"You know, Jak from Not Too Far and Going North to Haven is such an unbearably bland name," Vend said. "Let's call you Moneymaker, hmm? Oh, and a piece of advice: do try to not pray to the Precursors so much next time. It makes your lie stand out all the more."

Vend whipped his pistol against the back of Jak's head. Drun dropped him. Cold metal brushed Jak's cheek as he was dragged towards the slave cart, dark eco failing him as looming unconsciousness stole his fear and anger away. Yi threw Jak into the cart, his limp body hitting the others, sending the whole cage jostling. Jak trained his eyes on the space between the bars, unblocked as slaves recoiled from him.

Daxter peeked from behind a pillar afar. The ottsel glanced at him, blue eyes wide, then at the slavers.

And then he ran.

Everyone goes, Jak thought before he blacked out, tasting his own blood as it leaked to the floor from his scalp. That's just how it is.