I can't believe that I've written 30 chapters of this fic. I've topped 100,000 words.
Thanks to everyone who reads and supports me. It means a lot that I've been able to find such a great fandom for a 20 year old game. You're all the best!
"Geez, cherries, why don't you unpack and stay a while?"
Sig glanced around the little building that Jak and Daxter lived in. It was sparse and empty, with all the personality of a port-section warehouse. A nest of blankets and clothes on the floor, food thrown haphazardly near the cooking pot, random empty boxes scattered around the place.
And literally nothing else.
Wastelanders were notoriously minimalist: they firmly believed that everything was useful, and if it wasn't, it wasn't worth keeping around. But Sig, at least, had a few things: his old stuffed bear, a photo of his mama, even a cactus he'd transplanted from the desert a few years ago.
He helped Jak into the house. "Alright, let's get you to bed," he said. "Where's your bunk?"
Daxter hopped down and gestured to the blankets that were piled up on the floor. "Uh, you're lookin' at it."
Sig sighed as Jak lurched towards it and fell into the pile with a thump. "You can't be serious," he grumbled. "You don't even have a mat?"
Jak mumbled something into the blankets, but Daxter said, "Hey! We don't go into your house and judge your sleeping arrangements!"
"Geez…" Sig pointed at Daxter and went for the door. "Stay here and watch over him. I'll be right back."
He went to the market, to a stand off to the side. It was small and didn't seem like much, but Sig had learned a long time ago that looks were deceiving. He approached and rang the bell.
The man who came to the stand was older, a well-respected Wastelander. He'd been Damas' right-hand man at one point, and though Sig had taken his spot when he left it, there was still a kind of kinship between them. He walked with a limp, from an old war wound, and had his graying hair done in short, tight braids against his scalp.
"How you doin', Antwon?" Sig leaned against the stand and smiled. "I know you're the guy who's always selling random stuff. Got a bedroll anywhere?"
Antwon frowned as he thought. "No," he said finally. "Unfortunately, I'm out of bedrolls. I have a hammock, though."
"I'll take it." Sig pulled out some skull gems as payment, while Antwon started digging out the hammock. "Thanks."
"You trying out some new sleeping arrangements?" Antwon asked. "You'll have to be careful. Hammocks are comfortable to curl up in, but you're not small. Might cause some back problems."
"Nah, it's not for me." Sig took the folded up cloth and handed over the gems. Antwon didn't even bother counting them. "A friend of mine is sleeping on the floor."
Antwon laughed. "Well, well, that's not good for the back. Hope he gets a good rest on this."
"Let's hope." Sig started to walk away, but Antwon called his name. He turned around. "Yeah?"
Antwon nodded across the market. "What's going on with those two? I think this is the first time I've seen them together in…well, it's been a while."
Sig followed his gaze. Damas and Ionna were walking by. It was hard to tell if they were walking together: they were in lockstep with each other, but they both seemed to be pointedly avoiding looking at each other. Damas was observing everything around him, craning his neck to look at the city. Ionna, meanwhile, was staring straight ahead as she walked.
"With those two? Who knows." Sig shrugged. "My guess is they have to get along right now to deal with the Dark Makers and everything."
Antwon snorted. "Let me tell you, I knew them when they were kids. I'd never have guessed they'd be avoiding each other like the plague nowadays."
Sig never would have, either. Instead of saying that, however, he just shrugged. The two of them watched as Ionna split off from Damas, heading for the infirmary. For a brief moment, they looked at each other, before giving a salute and heading their separate ways.
Antwon shook his head and glanced at Sig. He lowered his voice and asked, "Any luck on Mar?"
Sig hesitated. Only the council knew about Sig's mission in Haven City; everyone else knew he'd been sent there, but not the reason why. He glanced around to make sure no one was close, before he answered, "Nothing. There was a rumor a while back about some kid who was the heir to the throne, but after the Baron was killed, there was no sign of any kid. I think it was just some tall tale the Havenites made up."
"Figures." Antwon sighed and patted Sig's shoulder. "Good talking to you. We'll have to get a drink sometime, catch up."
"Yeah." Sig gave the old man a salute and headed back to Jak and Daxter's place. "Stay safe, Antwon."
With the hammock in hand, it didn't take long for Sig to get back to Jak's place. He opened the door and said, "Alright, chili peppers, I don't wanna hear no arguin'." He shut the door and turned around.
Only to find that both Jak and Daxter were dead asleep.
Jak was out cold, curled up like a babe, with Daxter snoozing in his own makeshift bed. Sig felt a rush of affection for the kids; no matter how tough they both acted, they were still too young to be caught up in all this crap. They deserved a rest every once in a while.
Sig strung the hammock up quickly. It was made of soft cloth, padded with fur from some kind of animal. Warm and comfortable. Perfect for a kid who didn't know that the floor wasn't a good sleep spot.
With the hammock set up, Sig stooped down and picked up Jak. He shifted in Sig's arms, but didn't wake up. Sig settled him gently into the hammock, watching him curl in on himself in his sleep. He reached down and grabbed one of the blankets from the floor.
Damn kid still had his boots on. Sig untied them and slid them off his feet, wrinkling his nose at the smell. Wastelanders never smelled good, least of all after a hard day's work. He set the boots aside and spread the blanket over Jak's sleeping form, carefully tucking it around his shoulders.
He checked to make sure Daxter was okay—at least he knew the value of comfort, wrapped up in enough blankets to make any animal jealous—and then dusted his hands off. As he closed the door, he heard Jak let out a snore in his sleep. Sig chuckled.
"Sweet dreams, rookies."
By the time Sig reported back to Damas, the sun was setting.
Damas was standing beside the water wheel, staring out into the Wasteland. It was strange, he thought, to look up at the sky and see the Day Star. It seemed beautiful, in a terrifying way. In the sunset, it seemed to streak the sky purple and pink, mixing with the orange over the sands.
Sig stood beside him, arms behind his back. Damas glanced at him. "How is he?"
"They're both knocked the hell out. Busy day, I guess." Sig folded his arms. His eyes flickered to the Day Star out the window. "So…now what?"
"Now?" Damas gave a bitter scoff. "I suppose we just have to wait. Defend the city and hope that the Eco Sphere is found quickly."
"You just tell me what needs done, I'll get it done." Sig had always been reliable. It didn't matter if it was beating back Marauders or babysitting: Sig would do it, no questions asked.
"We need to prepare for an attack. It's coming, sooner or later." Damas turned around and started back towards the throne. "I'll send out the order for all citizens to do an arms check. If anyone needs anything—a modification, a repair, anything at all—make sure it gets done."
"Right." Sig followed Damas to the stone steps. "We oughta remind them to check their armor, too."
Damas nodded approvingly. "I'll see it done. Warn your mother."
"Ha! When has my mama ever needed a warning?" Sig said, grinning broadly. "I'll just have to make sure she's got the supplies ready."
"We'll also need to make sure we're ready for sheltering. Have Jamera reinforce the school building. We should be ready to shelter the children there, just in case." Damas tapped his knee thoughtfully. "The infirmary, too. I'll tell Ionna to make sure she's ready."
There was a beat of silence. Sig raised an eyebrow at the king, but said nothing.
"I won't be foolish enough to think we won't have casualties. Tell any citizen with medical experience to contact Ionna. She'll need them if we face an attack."
"On it," Sig said firmly. "Anything else?"
"...Not at the moment." Damas met Sig's eyes. "Thank you," he added suddenly. "You've gone above and beyond in your duty to the city, and I am grateful for your service."
"Don't get all soft on me now, Damas," Sig teased. He stepped onto the elevator and gave a salute. "That's the last thing we need."
The evening before the attack on the metal head nest, Damas was sitting on the throne, listening intently to the radio.
It was one of Mar's oldest practices: a radio address given to the soldiers on a regular basis. Mar believed that those who fought for the city deserved to have transparency in their leaders. Over the years, the task had been passed to the Krimzon Guards, the leaders of the armed forces.
"This is Lieutenant General Noori." Yasir's voice was calm and steady as it came through the speaker. Damas listened intently as he continued his speech.
"As you all know, tomorrow is, perhaps, our most important military operation yet. For the first time, we will be attacking the metal heads directly, instead of simply defending our lands."
He paused, a tense silence of static. "...I know you are nervous. I respect all of you too much to deny that I, too, have my reservations. But our goal is clear. This is a momentous occasion, one that could bring peace to Haven City, for the first time in living memory."
"There is no denying that lives will be lost in this assault. But lives are lost in every battle, and if there was ever something to sacrifice your life for, peace in our time is it."
Damas shifted uncomfortably on the throne. Hearing Yasir's voice ring out in the empty throne room was chilling. Especially when he laid it out for all to see, a bleak proclamation of sacrifice.
Over the radio, Yasir cleared his throat and continued, "Peace for our families. For our children, and our grandchildren. For our dearest friends, for everyone we love. A sacrifice, I believe, made for the greatest of all goods."
Another pause, a deep inhale, as if Yasir were trying to steady himself. "...So, as a soldier who will be fighting beside you tomorrow, I ask one thing of you tonight. I sincerely hope you will listen, though this is far from an order."
"Tonight, spend time with your loved ones." His voice was soft and deep, but just as serious as ever. "Hug your children, kiss your spouse. Have a drink with friends, and be glad for tonight. Come tomorrow, though it may be a difficult fight, we will have a better future."
With that, the transmission ended, with the nightly music playing. For a moment, Damas listened absent-mindedly, then he clicked the radio off.
The silence was deafening around him. He stood up and sighed, stretching his arms above his head.
The buzz of excitement and fear hummed beneath his skin. Tomorrow. It would all happen tomorrow.
A little voice in the back of his head told him that it wasn't too late to call it off.
To calm down, Damas sat down on the steps and pulled his rifle out. He started to dismantle it, setting the pieces aside carefully. The familiar hollow sounds of metal against metal were a comfort. As he oiled the parts, the smell permeating the air, he heard the door open.
"State your business," he said without looking up. "I'm a bit busy at the moment, so you will have to be quick."
"Oh, don't worry," a light voice said teasingly. "I wouldn't want to interrupt such an important royal task."
Damas jerked his head up. Ionna was standing before him, a brown cloth bag in her arms. She sat beside him on the steps, stretching her legs out in front of her. Damas raised an eyebrow as he set his rifle aside. "What is this?"
"Dinner." She opened the bag and a wonderful smell wafted out. "There's this great kebab place in the bazaar. Onin used to take me there when I was a little girl. The yakow kebab is to die for."
"I meant," he said with a grin, "what are you doing bringing it here?"
She handed him a wrapped kebab, but didn't answer. "They also have the best sauce," she continued. "It's almost like a sour cream sauce, or something? I don't know." She handed him a cup of said sauce.
"..." Damas chuckled and unwrapped the kebab. "You don't have to babysit me. It's unnecessary."
"I'm not babysitting you. I'm doing what Yasir said." She pulled out another kebab and started to eat. "Spending time with my friend." She swallowed a bite and sighed contentedly. "Excellent, as always. Anyway, I figured you probably wouldn't mind the company."
Damas started to eat, dipping a chunk of meat into the sauce. Ionna was right; if he was going to have a last meal, this was a pretty damn good one. "I suppose I don't mind. As you can see, everyone else has left."
Ionna glanced around the empty throne room. "Where is everyone, anyway?"
"Praxis took his daughter to watch tonight's race." Damas tossed one of the peppers from the kebab into his mouth. "Ali and Yasir are treating their mom to some fancy restaurant in Main Town. I think Antwon said he was going to a party with some other Guards."
Ionna grimaced and threw a napkin at his face. "Please don't talk with your mouth full, that's disgusting."
"Sorry." He covered his mouth and swallowed. "So, why aren't you hanging out with Seem? I would think the two of you would rather be spending your time with each other, considering…well, tomorrow."
"Seem is in seclusion for the next several days. Besides…" Ionna hesitated, then sighed. "She doesn't know about the attack on the nest."
"What?" Damas swallowed another bite, then added, "Why didn't you tell her?"
Ionna set her kebab down and frowned. "If I told Seem, she would just be upset until I left. This way, I was able to spend time with her without it…hanging over our heads."
Damas finished his kebab and set aside the skewer. He watched her for a moment, then said, "You know, you don't have to fight with us. I mean…you're a Precursor monk. If anyone has an excuse to stay out of this battle, it's you."
Ionna was quiet, her gaze faraway. Damas tilted his head to watch her for a few moments, then reached for her unfinished kebab. She snapped out of her reverie to slap his hand away.
"There's another one in the bag!" She gestured to wave his hand away with a laugh. "You're impossible."
He pulled another kebab out and started to eat. "I know. So I take it you're not going to sit this battle out?"
"Not a chance." Ionna picked her kebab up again. "You know, I've always lived in the Mountain Temple. Sheltered and hidden away, trained to be a sage. I've spent my entire life being prepared to take over as the Monk's leader. And then suddenly…" She twirled the kebab in her fingers. "Suddenly I'm a Krimzon Guard. I'm fighting beside you, a soldier and a monk at the same time. And I…well, I don't think I want to go back." She gave him a bittersweet smile. "I like being a Krimzon Guard. I don't think I want to get shoved back into the temple."
They were both silent after her proclamation, until Damas suddenly asked, "Is it difficult?"
"Hmm?"
"Being a sage," he elaborated. "Your powers are incredible, but I doubt they got that way by accident."
She smiled as she finished her kebab. "No, they didn't," she agreed. "I don't know if I would call it…difficult. It was always something I just did. I was told all my life that I would gain incredible powers, that I had to train and practice and grow."
"But it's more than that," Damas pressed.
"...It's more than that," she admitted. "It's…all the responsibility. Everyone expects great things from the sacred sage."
"But sometimes you just want everyone to be quiet and sort out their own problems," Damas murmured. Ionna looked over at him. "I understand."
"Why am I not surprised?" she said wryly. "I suppose if anyone would, it would be a king. I'm sure my responsibilities are nothing compared to yours."
"Let's just agree," Damas said wisely, "that both of us have responsibilities that are overwhelming at times."
"Agreed." Ionna toasted him with her kebab, and he did the same. "So, what are the rest of your plans for the evening?"
Damas leaned back on his palms. "Well," he said, "after I put my gun back together…I don't really have any." He grinned at her. "What about you? Off to do some sagely business?"
"I," she said, with an air of importance, "am going to read a book."
"Hmm, thrilling," Damas replied. "Well, I wouldn't want to impose, but you're welcome to stay here. We can play some card games."
"Wow, what an offer." Ionna's deadpan voice made him laugh. "I only play one card game: gin rummy."
"I have no idea how to play that." Damas folded his arms over his chest. "Well, since I'm likely to die tomorrow…"
"Damas. Don't talk like that."
"...I may as well die knowing gin rummy."
Ionna rolled her eyes and pulled a deck of cards out of her pack. "Fine. Though I'm only teaching you if you stop being so morbid."
They turned to face each other. Ionna shuffled the deck and spread the cards out in between them. "Alright, so it's not that hard. The cards each have a value, and your goal is to get to 100 points…"
Damas listened, but he found that he didn't quite have the focus for a lengthy explanation. Still, he nodded along to her words, grateful for the company and the distraction.
Besides, he thought, as Ionna took a card, it was better than sitting in the throne room alone, waiting for tomorrow to come.
People tended to underestimate Tess a lot.
Torn was one of the only people who saw value in Tess. He saw just how well she blended in. How she could insert herself into any situation, flawlessly, as if she'd been there all along. How she knew, almost innately, when to be the center of attention, and when to be a wallflower who just listened. That was why he'd sent her to Krew's bar, hoping to have another ear out for secrets.
And it was why he sent her on this mission tonight.
"It's some kind of secret meeting," Torn explained. "Not sure what it's about, but there are a ton of rumors going around. I think it might be Veger trying to stir up the wumbee's nest again."
He'd given her the address—some abandoned warehouse in the slums—and a brand new set of Freedom League armor, which she'd scoffed at.
"C'mon, Torn, why don't you just put a sign around my neck that says, 'Spy'?" She handed the armor back. "Nobody who's been fighting metal heads all day has pretty armor like this."
He smirked. "Always keeping me on my toes, eh, Tess? I'll get another set."
Once she was dressed in the old, beaten up Freedom League armor, she headed off to the meeting. It was right at sundown, when the shifts changed. Which was great, she thought as she walked in, because it meant that plenty of people were still wearing their helmets. She found a spot against the wall and sat down, her gun across her lap. Snippets of conversation met Tess' ears.
"...sister's kids are sick. Probably from the water…"
"...side hustle, selling soap, I think. Can you believe…?"
"...not sad he's gone. But his daughter's no better. Same shit, different day…"
"...happened to that kid the Underground kept spouting about? The heir of Mar or whatever…"
"...dead or something. Or he never existed…"
Tess shifted to get comfortable as more guards wandered in. A few were in plain clothes, but most were still dressed in their armor. There were a lot of them, at least a hundred in the warehouse.
"Hey there." Tess looked up to see a pair of guards looking down at her, a man and a woman. The woman cleared her throat. "Mind if we sit here? I've been on patrol all day and I'm dead on my feet."
Tess debated how to act; in the end, she decided quiet and neutral was probably best. She shrugged, so the couple sat down.
"Thanks," the man said gratefully. "I can't believe it's so packed in here. I figured only a few folks would show up."
Interesting. Tess considered it, then grunted, "Same here. It's not like they put up flyers about it."
The couple laughed and the woman took off her helmet. She had dark curly hair that was plastered to her face with sweat. "Whoo, I'm glad to take that off. Bet you know what that's like, eh, soldier?" She nudged Tess and laughed again.
Great. Tess had to get the chatty ones. As Krew would say, oh, well. "My hair's short," she said bluntly.
"See, Vi? I told you, you oughta go for the pixie cut." The man kept his helmet on and held out his hand. "Name's Nolan, and this is Via."
"...Kim," she lied, shaking his hand quickly. "So how'd you two hear about this?"
"Jasper," Via replied. "Wouldn't shut up about it. But I'm not convinced," she added. "I don't trust any of the guys in charge anymore."
Tess had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but she nodded sympathetically.
"I like Commander Torn a lot more than Erol, though," Nolan interjected. "He seems okay."
Via pulled a face. "Ech, Erol was such a sleeze. I mean, I like Torn just fine, but I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. And I definitely don't trust this Veger guy."
Aha. So Torn had been right. Tess folded her arms over her chest. "I'm not so sure about him, either," she said. "But I guess we should hear him out anyway, right?"
"Guess so." Nolan leaned against the wall. "Man, I just hope we can get rid of the metal heads soon. I can't wait until racing starts back up!"
Via rolled her eyes. "It'll be a while," she said. "They have to rebuild the whole stadium. Besides, you think it'll be the same without the two best racers?"
Nolan shrugged. "I don't know about that. Erol might be dead, but I swear I've seen Jak hanging around the city since he got banished. I mean, how would anyone even know? We're too busy with the war to worry about some kid who got banished."
Via frowned. "We should care. You know that kid used to work for Krew?"
Tess tensed her shoulders. It was hard not to jump to Jak's defense, especially considering her own history with Krew. But it didn't matter, since Nolan did it for her.
"Oh, please! Everybody worked for Krew! Hell, half the guards here worked for Krew!"
Via looked as if she was going to say something back, but silence fell over the crowd. Tess craned her neck to see Veger, standing in the center of the warehouse.
"Good people, if I may have your attention please!" He sounded a lot more pleasant than he did when talking to Torn or Ashelin. Tess realized he was doing exactly what she was: trying to blend in so that they would trust him.
Sneaky bastard.
"I have called upon you today to ask for your consideration. My name," he said haughtily, "is Count Veger."
A murmur buzzed through the crowd. Veger held his hand up for silence again.
"We are in tumultuous times," he continued, "and as the protectors of our grand city, you are at the frontlines every day. You have seen this war and its horrors. However…I have come to inform you that something much worse is coming."
Tess glanced around. All the guards were staring at him with rapt attention, engaged by his spectacle of a speech.
"Up in the sky, a star blooms." Veger gestured above him. "It brings to us monsters more dangerous than any metal head you've seen. And they are headed right for us."
Via rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease. Like this guy would know a metal head if it bit him on the ass."
Nolan laughed and leaned closer to whisper back. "Yeah, I'm not worried about what's coming. Little more concerned with what's already here."
Tess smiled beneath her helmet. At the very least, not every guard was on Veger's side. Still, as she looked around, quite a few of them were still focused on him.
Veger had paused dramatically. His eyes flickered from face to face, before he said ominously, "The Dark Makers."
Maybe he expected the guards to be intimidated by the name, or be cowed by the sinister tone in his voice. Either way, no one even flinched. Still, that didn't deter him.
"These creatures are beings of pure dark eco," Veger continued. "They are the antithesis of our glorious Precursors, sent to destroy our planet. But there is hope!"
He lifted his staff and gestured grandly towards the sky. "The Precursors have left a weapon, to be used only by the most worthy hero. And the Precursor monks have gifted me the knowledge to use it."
He paused again, gauging their reaction; they were still watching him. "I will save us," he said firmly. "But there are other concerns, as well. While I work tirelessly to save our planet, our politicians ignore the problem. Instead, they choose to align themselves with criminals, hoping to keep control of the city."
Now that got people talking. Evidently, some of the guards had been thinking something similar. Veger smirked at the mood shift. "While they hide the truth, I only wish to share it with you. Though I will abate the danger, I feel it important that all people know what we face."
He waited placidly as the whispers started up again. Via leaned over to Tess and Nolan.
"I mean, he has a point," she said quietly. "Have you guys heard anything about this?"
"Nothing official." Nolan folded his arms. "But when have they ever told us anything important?"
"Yeah, exactly." Via looked annoyed at his joke. "Commander Torn and Governor Ashelin haven't sent out anything about this."
Tess felt her heart drop. "Maybe they're already taking care of it," she told them. "I mean, we got enough to worry about with the metal heads."
Nolan shrugged. "True. But I still feel like they're hiding stuff."
Veger raised his hand for silence again. "I will save us," he assured them, adjusting his coat. "For now, I simply wish to keep all of you informed. But remember," he added, "when the time comes, remember who worked with you and who worked against you!" With that, he nodded and turned towards the exit, leaving the guards behind.
Tess glanced around carefully. "So," she said casually, "what do you guys think?"
Nolan stretched as he stood up. "I don't know. Like Via said, none of those guys are trustworthy. Always a little shady."
"At least he seems like he's being honest with us," Via grumbled. "More honest than the Governor has been. But who knows?" She shrugged as they started towards the exit. "Hey, Kim, a couple of us usually go back to my place after our shifts. You want to come get a drink with us?"
It took Tess a second for her to remember that 'Kim' was the fake name she'd given. "Not tonight," she said curtly. "I got the kids waiting for me at home."
"Ah, well, another time, then." Nolan clapped her on the back. "Nice meeting you."
"Yeah, safe trip home." Via put her helmet back on and waved as they headed down the slum streets, laughing as they went. Tess waited until most of the guards were gone, then started back towards the Naughty Ottsel.
She couldn't wait to get this armor off.
