Damnation

I haven't published on this story in a while so I thought I should continue it I have had a mixed idea on where to take this story but I think I now have an idea of where I'm going, so I hope you enjoy this chapter and feel free to review and suggest any improvements, I like the feedback. I don't own Jak and Daxter that's Naughty Dogs but I do own my characters.

The darkened room which Ortz awoke to find himself in was a far cry from what he considered to be sanitary conditions but the single flood light seemed to make everything surrounding him darker. The black was like an impenetrable veil, cloaking all who remained inside it, as Ortz became more aware of his surroundings he realised that he was alone in the light tied to a little shitty chair that had been bolted to the floor. The floor was glistening with fresh blood, the red liquid shimmered as the light above him rocked as nearby explosions tore through the surroundings.

Ortz became very awake that he wasn't alone in the room that there was something else, something vindictive inside the room waiting to strike him as soon as it realised he was alive. He lifted his head to try and catch a glimpse of its eyes through the darkness. As he lifted his head and looked around, the sound of a chain being scrapped along a hard concrete floor became more than apparent, circling him but never exposing what was causing the sound.

"Who…" Ortz tried to call out but was met with a swift snarl of whatever was in the darkness, "Who's out there?!" Ortz cried out, just as he did a Lurker hound jumped from the darkness towards him only stopping when his chain, with was conveniently just a little too short for the thing to grab him, halted the creatures advance. It stood barking at Ortz, he could hear the chain becoming weaker as the creature was pulling on the links. The hound had a series of scars running across it's body riddled from years of a punishing regime where the Lurkers have been subjugated and enslaved by their human overlords. The creature seemed threatening but it was not under its oven impetus to attack him, the beasts collar had a series of blue rings surrounding it which looked like discharge plates, so the hound was receiving a large dose of electric current to keep it in line.

A door over behind Ortz suddenly smashed open, "Who the hell are you?" A male smoky voice asked from behind Ortz.

"Private Ortz, B-platoon, C-company, Krimson Guard," Ortz said in a hurry trying to get all his words out in a hurry.

"So this is what classifies as Krimson Guard these days?" The man asked, his voice sounded friendlier this time like he was taking pity on Ortz.

"Yeah it is, sir!" Ortz replied in sheer panic, not actually knowing what to say.

"Well that is pathetic," The man said walking around the room, he was sounding more and more unpredictable as he moved, his pacing was militarily precise each foot was carefully place and excellently timed. He moved right round to the front of Ortz only placing his lower legs and boots into the light, he had the hound heeled at his feet like it was a puppy. His dark blue trousers and boots seemed to be off coloured by the dirt and scum of the surrounding areas, "if you're so pathetic tell me why I shouldn't release this thing or my men on you? You're mission today killed a great number of our men, pushing us back into hiding so give me one good reason you shouldn't be used as a way for us to vent our stress!" the man demanded to Ortz.

Ortz kept his head up but he was shaking so badly he couldn't get his words out, "W-w-what are you g-g-g-gonna do with me?" Ortz asked trying to fight back his fear.

"Oh I dunno," The man said as he crouched down and grabbed the hound's collar unclipping the chain, and holding the beast by its collar, "Maybe I'll let this guy get very acquainted with you, if you catch my meaning."

Ortz didn't break away in his stare he kept his eyes fixated on where he thought the man's head would be. Ortz' head kept jumping around in frantic thought as he saw the man's arms the blue markings were very familiar, he couldn't help but think where he had seen them before.

"Well what do you think about that?" The man asked him calmly.

Ortz still didn't say a word he just tried to think of the tattoos, but then it hit him, "Y-y-y-you're Krimson guard!" Ortz outburst with.

"What would make you think that?" The man said as he took a step forward into the light exposing his stomach and lower arms still grasped onto the hound's collar.

"Your tattoos, they're the markings of the Krimson guard, I have the bare facial one but you must have been a high ranking officer, one who had a lifetime of servitude to the guard," Ortz explained calmly.

"Really? You've clearly been doing you're research on the guard, I was like that once, foolish really," He told Ortz openly.

"You're….. You're Torn!" Ortz sporadically came out with.

The man stepped forward into the light and exposed his tattooed face, he was a lot older than Ortz, he was around thirty where Ortz was merely nineteen. He was battle scarred and obviously liked to keep up with the fitness he had learned in the Guard. His features where chiselled, his face looked as cold as stone but he gave off an impression of a just man.

"Aren't you a bright one, no wonder the guard sent you on a suicide mission," Torn stood over Ortz with the hound still silent, as Torn opened his mouth about to say more the room was rocked by an explosion, "What the hell was that?" Torn shouted into the radio mounted on his shoulder.

"We're under attack sir! It's the guard they're using chemical shells to flush us out!" A woman shouted back down the radio her upper class accent seemed out of place working in this environment.

"Great!" Torn shouted as he moved back towards the door, "Don't move!" He ordered to Ortz as he left.

Ortz sat there as the hound cowered from the massive explosions that were rocking the building, when suddenly a massive explosion rocked the wall in front of Ortz blowing all the debris in and rolling in a thick green smoke. The chair that Ortz was sitting on was blown across the room and he was under the smoke, he gasped for air as the green gas burnt through his lungs. His vision was crippled and he could hardly breathe he struggled to break free of the bounds that kept him to the chair he tore through the guard gloves he had on and rolled out of the chair, choking on the floor he looked around frantically for the way out. He spotted the hound rasping on the floor, Ortz ran over to the dog and ripped off his collar and scooped him up running for the door that Torn had gone through, the door was locked shut. Ortz stepped back making sure to not breathe in the noxious fumes he smashed through the door to a frantic scene of people running around with masks trying to get them out to the surrounding populous.

"It's the prisoner," A man shouted as he drew his pistol.

"Don't shoot! We need all the hands we can get!" A small man in a gas mask shouted to him, "Get this on!" the man shouted chucking him a gas mask.

"What about one for him?" Ortz asked.

"Here take it just take, just get those masks out to the families who need them, if you're a man of the people you'll do it," The small man said.

Ortz ripped the masks over his own and then the face of the hound who seemed to be close to death. Then he grabbed a box of the gas masks and darted off into the streets of the slums which were almost totally shrouded in gas, every civilian he bumped into he gave them a gas mask and made them put it on, he barged into a small house there he could hear people banging on the inside. He found a family in there where a small child was coughing on the floor violently, Ortz gave everyone else a gas mask and put one on the child and scooped him up.

"Come with me!" Ortz ordered to the family.

"Okay we'll come! Who are you?" The man asked.

"No one, I'm just trying to do the right thing," He said as he took off up the street still handing out gas masks making his way back to where the small man was based. As he moved he couldn't see any fire coming from any direction so it wasn't a direct attack on the slums, more just a malicious way of getting people out of the slums.

He walked up the stairs to where the old man was carrying the child who was near limp in his hands, "Did you do it?" The old man asked.

"Yeah I handed out all the masks I had." Ortz told him.

"Good," he replied with a smile.

"Can you help this boy?" Ortz asked.

"Panacea! We've got another!" the small man called out.

"Shit!" A woman said as she ran over taking the boy from Ortz' hands.

"How can I help?" Ortz asked.

"Come with me then." She told him bluntly.

Ortz followed her down into a small room where there were a lot of sick and injured people.

"Holy fuck!" Ortz said to himself.

"Yeah welcome to hell, you still wanna help?" She asked him.

"In any way I can," Ortz replied while kneeling next to the boy.

"Grab that pump!" She told him.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter it took me a while to actually finish but anyway please feel free to review and past and feedback you have and how I could improve it until the next time . PEACE!