Ravenholm is by no means a hospitable town. It wasn't particularly friendly before the shelling, and it certainly wasn't afterwards. The night was dark and cold, as ever.
A lone man strode through the empty, cobblestoned streets. The wind blew through his blond hair and ruffled his blue shirt. The moonlight glinted off the red-lensed goggles which sat passively on his forehead. He held a grey blaster with glowing red components.
His abnormally long ears detected an inhuman growl, and he quickly raised his weapon. A zombie came out from behind corner. Its white shirt was bloodstained and ripped in the centre, revealing a horrific mouth in its torso. A beige creature covered its head, so Jak couldn't see the mouth that snarled at him.
Jak fired his Morphgun and a cone of red energy burst from it. The zombie was thrown backwards and landed on the ground as a ragdoll.
Behind him, there was another shriek. Jak glanced behind to see another zombie, skin missing, leaping through the air towards him. He hadn't the time to shoot, but a barrel came flying through the air and hit the zombie dead on, killing it.
Jak exhaled as Murray jogged up to him. He had been saved by a throw from the large, pink hippo. His scarf waved erratically as he approached Jak. Murray's mask inexplicably rose with his eyebrows as he expressed concern.
"You okay, my new comrade in arms?" he asked.
"Yeah, thanks," said Jak. His voice was gravelly. "These damn things are everywhere."
"Tell me about it," said Murray. "Even The Murray is suffering from trepidaciousness of the highest order!"
Jak stared at him quietly. "If you say so."
Murray turned around and started. One of the parasites, known locally as a headcrab, was right in front of him. The headcrab screeched and leaped at Murray, but its trajectory was upset by a fireball exploding against it. It missed and landed awkwardly, making loud pained noises. It tried retreating, but Jak shot it.
A man with excessive facial scarring walked up to join them. He brushed some dust off of his finely tailored suit, taking the care an artist would exercise when dealing with their own work. He gave Jak and Murray a warm smile.
"Fire seems to be effective... You two doing alright?" he asked.
"Just fine, Mr Bespoke!" said Murray bravely. "But, that said, your timely assist was most... timely."
"I'm glad," said Ghastly. "What about you, Jak?"
Jak checked his Morphgun for ammunition. "I'm fine. But I'll be better as soon as we get out of this damn place."
Ghastly nodded. "Then let's keep looking for Wyoming."
Spoony strode into the room Linkara had arranged to meet him in. It was a small room of little consequence located in the middle of the ship. Inside was a table, a chair, Linkara bent over said table, and Valkyrie Cain, the latter of whom met Spoony with a friendly smirk. The furniture showed no such enthusiasm at his arrival.
Spoony glanced around. "Well Linkara, I'm here. Question is, why are you?"
Linkara turned towards Spoony. On the table in front of him was Insano's Anti-Magic Field Generator. "Ah, there you are. I was hoping you could lend me a hand getting this thing back online."
"Why?" asked Spoony.
"Well, they don't need any help rewiring the engine room, and I decided to do something more productive than gawk at superheroes all day," replied Linkara. "Besides, if anyone's going to fix this, it's you and me."
"I guess," shrugged Spoony, "although I should point out that half the time I don't know what the guy's even saying, let alone inventing."
Linkara nodded. "Fair enough. It's just..." He opened the bottom with his Sonic Screwdriver, and beckoned Spoony closer. "What the Funk & Wagnall is that thing?"
Spoony peered in and follow Linkara's finger. "Oh, that's just the Blitzball-proofing device."
"Ohh!" said Linkara, finally understanding. Valkyrie, conversely, was only left more confused.
"Y'see," said Spoony, reaching into the machine, "that thing spins like a motherfucker, so if it's gotten loose, it's probably catching on something else..."
This continued for a few minutes, with Spoony and Linkara discussing terms which sounded distinctly silly to Valkyrie. She would admit her understanding of magic was still growing, but she had her doubts it could just be turned off by a machine the size of a shoebox.
"Um, I have a question," she said.
"Go ahead," said Linkara.
"How does that work?"
"How does it work, you may ask?" said Spoony in a mocking yet strangely accurate imitation of Insano's voice. "How?! With Science, of course!"
When Valkyrie gave him a blank look, Spoony shook his head. "Don't worry. I was pretty confused when I first heard about it, too. I've just learned to stop questioning."
After a few moments, Linkara was satisfied the device was fixed. "Valkyrie, you ready?"
"Sure," replied Valkyrie. She clicked her fingers with a flourish of her wrist and a fireball sprang into existence in her palm, waiting there harmlessly.
"Awesome," grinned Linkara. He turned. "Spoony, give 'er some juice."
Spoony flicked on the main switch on the bottom, and turning it to the lowest setting. Brightly coloured lights began to flicker on, one by one, as though the machine was waking itself up. Then, with a sudden surge, they all came on at once, and some of the dangling elements of the machine began to rotate.
As soon as this occurred, the fireball which had been sitting in Valkyrie's palm extinguished itself, leaving only a wisp of smoke. Experimentally, Valkyrie tried to push the air in the room, to no effect. Her efforts to curl shadows out of her ring were similarly fruitless.
"I'm not getting anything," she stated. "My magic's stopped."
"Looks like it works then!" responded Linkara happily.
Suddenly, a deep voice came harshly from the door.
"And just what is underway in here?"
The source of the voice was a vexed Meta Knight. His sword, usually merely a hilt while sheathed, he was now holding awkwardly, and his cloak, which normally had the ability to change mass and shape, sat on his shoulders as a thick lump of fabric.
"Um," began Linkara, sensing that this would lead nowhere pleasant, "well, there's this Anti-Magic Field Generator that I decided to fix, and -"
Meta Knight cut him off. "Turn it off." He was holding his temper, but only barely. Spoony leaned over, and flicked the main switch. Without power, the device soon deactivated.
Meta Knight's items returned to their previous state. He sheathed Galaxia and ruffled his cloak a bit, both to straighten out the cloth and to regain his composure. When he had calmed down somewhat, he stated clearly "I understand that the arrangement we have here is casual at best. However, I must order you, as ship's captain, not to turn that device on again."
"I'm guessing you were walking by and your stuff broke?" asked Valkyrie. "Sorry about that. We'll be more careful in future."
Meta Knight shook his head. "It goes much further than that." He gestured to the ship. "This ship, like most things on my planet, is heavily reliant on magic to operate."
"Wait," objected Linkara. "You mean to say the guys below deck are rewiring magical electrical circuits?"
"The Halberd's power systems are mostly Scientific," clarified Meta Knight. "But magic still plays a vital role in keeping the ship aloft."
"The bat wings?" queried Spoony.
"For one thing, yes. The point I'm driving at is that activating that device on this ship could possibly have catastrophic effects; effects I'm not willing to risk. As such, I'm ordering you - or, if you prefer, asking you - to disable that machine and not to trigger again."
Linkara took the generator, opened the side, and popped out the Raritanium battery with a flick of a screwdriver. "There we go, Sir Knight."
Meta Knight bowed. "My thanks."
The four filed out, walking separate ways. Linkara pocketed the battery and left the Anti-Magic Field Generator on the table, turning the light off as he shut the door.
In the end, escape had been pitifully easy.
As he had already found, the shackles were too large for him. Once he had one hand out, freeing the other was simple. The main problem was working out what do from there. It helped that guards came by ever more infrequently. Almost as if they didn't believe he could escape anyway.
"Nothing good comes from underestimating Light Yagami," was the thought that kept his spirits buoyed. "Kira will have his glorious revenge."
There was a hollow above the door where the wall seemingly caved in. Light tested it with a wooden stick lying on his cell's floor, and found it was indeed as weak as it looked. All he needed was a way to break it.
Testing his shackles, he found them stronger than the stone wall they were attached to. He tied one around the other and used the first, as well as some well-applied pressure from pulling on it, to drag second out of the wall. He was left with a metal chain ending with a chunk of stone; in essence, a flail.
"Not the most elegant weapon, but it has the reach I need."
Using the flail, he beat the hollow above the door until the stone gave way to air. With effort, he jumped, grabbed the bottom of gap he had made, and pulled himself through.
He collapsed on the other side, grinning at the cell's door from the side the free people go on.
"Kira... wins... again!" he cackled. As he stood, he laughed maniacally to himself.
Light's victorious air deflated when he was met with the figure of Maleficent, whose form seemingly solidified from the shadows. Azula stood just behind her, her face suppressing a smirk.
Light collected himself, straightened his back, and laughed loudly at Maleficent. "I did it!" he proclaimed. "I did it!"
Maleficent tilted her head slightly, a ghost of a smile on her face. "Did what?"
"Don't play dumb," Light grinned. "I surpassed my chains. I broke out of my cell. Just as planned."
Maleficent put on a confused frown. "I'm sorry?"
"You said!" yelled Light, and then continued in a more reasonable tone, "You said. I break out, you let me join your little group."
Maleficent's frown deepened. "I said no such thing."
Light's eyes widened. "Y... yes you did. You said that I should surpass my chains -"
"Which was a metaphor," corrected Maleficent coldly. "And now, you've actually broken out of your cell. You're not a recruit, you're a threat."
Light's stomach turned. "No," he said quickly. "We have a misunderstanding here. I'm sure -"
##
In the main room, Tai Lung and M Bison were sparring. Dr Horrible read a schematic of the transporter while Dr Doom faced away from him, working on a small device. Scar lazily watched Loki polish his staff. They vaguely realized no-one was watching Light, but no-one really cared enough to raise the point.
The air abruptly came alive with a blood-curdling scream of pure agony, which resonated from deep within the castle. Bison raised his finger to request Tai Lung to stop, and cocked his head like a connoisseur.
"Sounds like... burning," he said. "Yes. Definitely burning. Those are the noises of a man dying in fire."
"I don't know what's more disturbing, Bison," remarked Loki casually, "the fact you can tell that by sound alone, or the fact you're smiling."
"It seems as though our prisoner has met his fate," announced Doom, who hadn't even looked up. "Doom does not mourn. I disliked him."
"I'm confused," said Tai Lung, stretching. "What exactly is going on?"
"Ah, allow me to explain," smirked Scar. "I overheard Maleficent explain it to Azula. Do you recall how she vaguely implied to our... guest he should try escaping?" Scar had paused for a moment, trying to find an insult, but all the ones which immediately presented themselves to describe Yagami – weakling, snake, schemer – also applied to Scar, so the lion remained civil.
Tai Lung nodded uncertainly.
"Well," said Scar, "it was a trick. And a nasty one at that. If he didn't escape, she'd call him weak and kill him. If he did, she call him a threat - and kill him. Either way, he was dead from the start."
Dr Horrible glanced up. "That's kinda harsh, don't you think?"
"I for one thought it was hilarious," said Loki.
The trio had made it to the other side of town with a minimum of physical scarring (though the same could not be said of the mental). However, their opponent was still nowhere in sight.
"Is it too much to hope for that the zombies got him?" asked Murray sadly.
"I'm afraid so! I'm a tougher biscuit than that, chaps," announced an immensely British voice from the darkness. Jak readied his Morphgun, Ghastly clicked two fireballs, and Murray raised his fists. All three tried to pinpoint their opponent's location.
He soon appeared, stepping out from a shadow. Another Spartan, this time with white armour. He twirled a pistol nonchalantly on one armoured finger. A sniper rifle attached to his back clearly hinted to the heroes that if he had so willed it, at least one of them would already be dead.
"Good evening, mates," he said jovially. "A pleasure."
"Wyoming?" asked Jak over the barrel of his gun.
"The one and only," said the Freelancer.
One of the faster Headcrabs leapt suddenly at Wyoming from the shadows. Murray yelled in fright. It latched on to his helmet and kicked futilely when it realized its mistake.
"Nasty little buggers, aren't they?" remarked Wyoming, utterly unfazed. "Remind me of the Flood. Ah, but you probably don't have the Flood. Count yourself lucky. They are, as I say, nasty little buggers." He calmly drew his pistol and shot the creature flailing on his head.
"You seem pretty fearless," noted Jak.
Wyoming chuckled. "Well, in fairness, I've lived these events several times," he replied modestly.
"Excuse me?" asked Ghastly.
Wyoming gestured to his armour. "I happen to have a device on this armour that allows me to replay recent periods of time. Bloody handy, if I do say so."
"Then why let the creature attack you every time?" asked Jak.
"Because," said Wyoming, "every time, the hippo squeaks, you compliment my bravery, and I chuckle."
"Hey!" said Murray indignantly. "The Murray was merely... uh, trying to warn you of the monster's cranial assault!"
"Of course, of course," said Wyoming patronizingly. "But I regret to say I've grown bored of all you now, so it's time to get some killing done."
Wyoming aimed his pistol at Ghastly and fired a few rounds. Ghastly reacted admirably quickly, using the air to push himself backwards towards cover, but couldn't avoid taking some shots to the upper chest. He fell behind a wall and struggled to get up.
Jak fired at Wyoming, running towards the building behind him. He threw himself into the door and began rapidly ascending the stairs. Murray considered rushing Wyoming, but he recognized his fists were no match for a pistol, so instead he ran back to Ghastly, bullets whizzing past his head.
Wyoming laughed softly to himself. "My, that surprised you, didn't it? Don't worry – I'm going to kill you slowly. I'm quite bored, after all, and a man has needs!" He casually began reloading his pistol and sauntered up the stairs after Jak.
Murray leaned over Ghastly. "You okay?"
"Just super," lied Ghastly through clenched teeth. Blood was slowly beginning to pool on his clothes.
"That looks bad!" said Murray worriedly.
"Yeah, I know," Ghastly agreed. "It'll take me ages to clean his shirt. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get bloodstains out?"
Murray stared at him.
"Okay, nevermind," said Ghastly. "Listen. Wyoming said he can turn back time, right?"
"Yeah, he did."
"Let's think about this. If we give him the chance, he'll just go back and start over. So if we want to beat him, we have to take him by surprise."
"Yeah, okay..." said Murray, "that makes sense! So how are we going to do it?"
Ghastly managed to get into a sitting position, and immediately regretted it. "Ow. Ow ow ow. That's a powerful pistol he's got. I'll be fine, but I think I'd better stay down for now."
"Looks like things fall down to The Murray!" exclaimed Murray. "But... I'm not great at sneaking. That's Sly's job. I just punch guys. How am I meant to take the highly-trained agent by surprise? He'll hear my hulking bulk if I go through the door!"
Ghastly looked up at the building Jak and Wyoming were in. He could just about distinguish two figures fighting in the uppermost window, which was smashed.
"As a friend of mine would say," said Ghastly, "doors are for people with no imagination."
##
A few moments earlier, Jak had reached the zenith of the stairs. He'd arrived in a small room, as dank and tragic as every other one in town. There had been a single zombie in the centre of the room, which only got halfway through its snarl before Jak shot it. He had more pressing matters.
Kicking over a table, Jak crouched behind it. His gun morphed into a higher setting and he waited for the Freelancer who was taunting him as he climbed the steps.
"I find it amusing you think you have a chance," came Wyoming's voice. "I outperform you in every capacity. Training. Weaponry. Facial hair."
Jak raised an eyebrow behind his cover. "What?"
"You heard me! You think that college-boy soulpatch is impressing anyone? Because it isn't! Real men have a curl in their moustache."
At this point, Wyoming's helmet appeared in Jak's vision and he fired furiously at it. The shields of Wyoming's armour sparked. He kept walking.
"As I was saying, my equipment surpasses yours."
Jak growled, switched to the Peacemaker setting, and blasted Wyoming in the torso. Wyoming's shields held, but his pistol was knocked from his and flew through the window, smashing it.
Wyoming merely laughed at this. "Oh, you rascal." Before Jak could fire another shot, Wyoming was suddenly right in front of him. He grabbed Jak's gun and pulled on it, bringing Jak's face into his fist. He then kicked Jak in the stomach, wrenching the gun out of his hand. Jak hit the wall and sank down it.
Wyoming aimed the Morphgun at him. "Guns come, guns go," he sighed. "That said, I do so love killing men with their own weaponry."
"You don't know how to use that thing," spat Jak.
Wyoming laughed again. "I imagine the trigger makes the thin end go boom."
"Worth a shot bluffing..."
"Quite. A noble effort, Mr Jak, but inadequate."
Jak caught something out of the corner of his eye. "Can I ask you to hold on for just a second?"
"I'm sorry, but the only thing that would give me pause is a knock knock joke." A hopeful note entered the Freelancer's voice. "Please tell me you have one."
Jak smiled grimly. "Actually, I do. Knock. Knock."
"Who's there?"
The wall burst into a shower of spiralling concrete chunks as a pink blur slammed through it. "THE MURRAAAAAAAAY!" declared Murray triumphantly. He blasted through the wall, propelled by a gust of air from Ghastly. He Thunder Flopped, horizontally, into Wyoming, with enough force to make another hole in the far wall using the latter as a projectile.
Jak picked up his Morphgun from where it had fallen and joined Murray in looking down on Wyoming's body, now on the ground far below.
"You think he's okay?" asked Murray.
"I don't know how well-versed you are in biology," replied Jak stoically, "but people's spines aren't supposed to bend that way."
"Oh."
##
On arrival, Ghastly had been brought to the med bay. As he himself said, the bullets wouldn't kill him, but rest was definitely called for. Ghastly was highly pleased when Valkyrie heard about his appearance and visited him. Likewise, Murray was ecstatic about seeing Sly, and was currently with the latter, alternating between recounting the highlights of his deathly adventure in Ravenholm and meeting the various new people Sly was introducing him to.
Jak was less social. He had greeted Sly and Clank in a friendly enough manner, but he didn't stick around, on the off chance one of them would mention the alien fiasco, which he was in no mood to discuss. He had been relieved to find Sig, and was sharing a drink with him in one of the quieter rooms.
"I'm glad you're here, Jak," said the larger man stoically.
Jak grinned mockingly. "Don't go soft on me. I didn't peg you as the emotional type."
Sig rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you're here because I know something's going to go down."
"What makes you say that?"
"You killed your opponent. I only wish I could say the same. There's a lot of those bastards who are either unaccounted for, or outright got away. I can't shake the feeling they're going to pull something."
Jak drained his cup. "Well, when that happens, they'll have to go through me first."
"They'll have to go through all of us," corrected Sig.
Jak grinned. "Yeah. Every single one."
Every single one of the reviews I get make me happy. Yes, even the nasty ones. YOU CAN ONLY INCREASE MY EGO please don't ignore me
