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Chapter Text

In between shocks of incredibly concentrated Dark Eco, and separating that Dark Eco into Green Eco to keep the rest of it from killing him, Jak has flashes of memory.

He’d think constant exposure to Dark Eco would make him forget. Instead, it made him remember. It made him remember everything, just a bit too well.

He remembers getting stung by Whumpbees on his ninth birthday. He remembers him and Daxter getting attacked by a Lurker Shark while helping Ollie catch some ocean fish, and having to rush back to shore in a panic. He remembers Hugo cutting open his face while chiselling a sculpture for the Mayor, and having to constantly keep Eco Motes stuck to the guy’s face until Samos could come down and fix him.

He remembers soft sand, different from the sand of Sandover. A… gun turret. A friendly squid. Or at least, the squid liked him. An island. With a palm tree. And clams. And sandglass. And weird hopperfish that could come onto land. And weird lizards.

He remembers a ship. Waves. Different from Ollie’s boat… A woman. Blurry. He doesn’t remember her face, or anything he can really identify her with. Safety. A man. Severe. Raspy sounding. Jagged scar.

Very jagged scar. Fresh. Fresher than the scars on his chest.

“Wake up, Eco-Freak!” Errol demands, shocking him with a higher concentration to snap him back to awareness, trying to get him to scream.

Separating Dark into Green is a lot harder when it’s actively being pumped into his chest. Hurts. Hurts a lot. Hard to focus. But he does.

Pushes past the immediate pain response. Collects all of the Dark Eco in his stomach. Lets it coagulate there, percolate into dots, and then motes, and then a clump. Errol stops hitting him with extra. He doesn’t let out a sigh of relief.

Instead, he pushes that clump up and out, letting it travel from his stomach, to his throat, to his mouth. And then he spits it across the room, getting whatever was leftover on his chest, and even gives his best mocking laugh at the sheer indignity on Errol’s face.

It gets him pistol whipped, and then hit with even more Dark Eco. But it’s worth it just to see that face.

Still, he falls into that zen state again, even with the Dark Eco flowing through his body, ties down the pain to just grimacing and flexing against his bonds. And he remembers.

Gol, flying, having to tether himself down with three metal balls. He could fly with Dark Eco.

Maia, unaging despite the both of them being almost as old as Samos. She could teleport with Dark Eco.

The both of them, using Dark Eco in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. Bathing in it. Putting it directly in their bodies.

They should have died.

… He should be dead. This much Dark Eco transformed Daxter, but he isn’t as lucky as his buddy. He hopes that Daxter’s okay in this horrible place.

But… Maia can Teleport with Dark Eco! Or, could. Can, whatever!

It’s a longshot. And Jak doesn’t know what he’ll do if it works beyond cry. But… he wants to be free of this awful place.

He’ll find Daxter the second he’s healthy if it does work, but that requires him to get out of here.

A safe place…

There was a market, near that beach.

Keeping that image in his mind, he took the Dark Eco flowing into his body, ignoring the burning sensations, the stinging, the pain. He took it all, and he focused on that market. On that beach.

And he felt his cuffs vanish, leaving him standing on his weak feet, rain falling on his body, in the center of a sand coated market.

… rain. Real rain.

He’s free. A laugh bubbles out of his chest. Solid. It causes him to wobble. Another. He rips off that prison shirt, or the upper half of the uniform he was given.

Soon, he’s laughing like… something. A crazy person. Unable to stop just like Gol and Maia while they were using the Precursor Robot, but he’s FREE!

He trips over his own laughter, falling to the ground, sand. Wet, scraggly, real and here.

His laughter peters out as exhaustion takes over his body. He can’t move.

“Someone get Damas, now!” He can hear people shouting, but he’s just laying there, laughing, as all the shadows move around his body.

Really cool shapes, too. He’s never seen a staff with a Precursor Bolt on it.

Maybe he’ll just… take a little nap… No one will mind…

Samos isn’t even here to yell at him for it…

Yeah… yeah, that sounds good. Just a quick little nap-

Chapter Text

“I have two simple questions.” Damas began as he stared at the currently unconscious form of the… prisoner, who’s tag just read Subject 130118, a random numerical code for a Prisoner that isn’t meant to be allowed to have their name. “Number one. Who is this? Two. How did he appear?”

“We do not know, sir.” Durak, Leader of Scouts, hums, rubbing his hair in confusion. “It’s… I mean, he laughed. Sobbed. Fell over. He’s been through the ringer, and I think he just wanted to be anywhere but where he was. No idea how he managed to come here, though. No Warp Ring for miles, let alone a powered one.”

“I see.” Damas’ scowl rose to the surface as an enigma presented itself to him. “And his age?”

“Young. Probably too young to finish the Trials. Or just on the cusp of them.” Olrun rumbled, the wizened healer staring at the prisoner, before prodding him with his cane and drawing out a pained gasp. But the prisoner did not awaken. Concerning. “This much Dark Eco, he should be a corpse. It could’ve aged him too. He could be even younger.”

“He could barely be a teenager.” Premor shifted, shaking her head. “Whatever Haven did to him… it wasn’t pretty.”

“I see.” Damas frowned, before sighing. “Take him to a clinic. See if you can remove the worst of the Dark Eco. Inform me if anything changes. Besides that, you’re dismissed. I must contact Sig.”

He would be, of course, but as he turned to his throne, and three of his advisors, and some of the best his People had to offer, shuffled out with an insensate child that shouldn’t be alive, let alone sobbing out in the rain after ripping free of his prison uniform, mercifully only the top half. He spies Seem, under their little invisibility trick, waiting for him to seek their counsel.

He will, of course. But they are young. And he had sworn to himself that he remembered teaching them that they needed to curb their impertinence.

This might be more worrying than previously believed.

“Seem.”

“Damas.” They said with a shallow bow, stepping from the shadows.

“How did he get here?” He cut straight to the point, and they shifted.

“Dark Eco. There were stories, long ago, of two. A Dark Eco Sage, and a Dark Eco Sorceress. The Sorceress could teleport, the Sage could fly.”

“You think he may be a descendant of theirs?” Damas raised an eyebrow, even as he quashed the part of him that wondered if perhaps that Prisoner may have been a cousin of his. Far removed, of course, but that hair color was certainly distinctive.

“He may be. Or he is simply lucky, and whatever experiments were done to him awakened a latent gift.” They hedged, putting their fingers together. “It is too soon to tell. When he awakens, we will be able to divine more information, I would hope.”

“Will he live?” Damas asked the question that had plagued him since seeing the boy’s scars. Jagged. Painful. Electrical. With the worst of it surrounding four purple wounds on his chest.

And yet the Dark Eco had not solidified in those areas. There was no immediate malignancy that he could feel. It was strange, yes, but not… lethal.

“He will survive. Whether he will be changed by his experience is yet to be seen.” Seem informed him, and then frowned. “I… am trying to think of who would know the locations in the body to pump raw Eco into to attempt to cause such transformations.”

“Praxis’ family are descended from the Red Eco Sage.” Damas dryly pointed out, before shaking his head. “He at least would know.”

“How wonderful.” They sarcastically said, shaking their head, and Damas found he agreed. “I am unsure if his mind will be there when he awakens.”

“A cause for concern.” He nodded, remembering that… display. In the market. Upturned stalls, fruit and Miconuts scattered around. A black burn mark where he landed.

Just… laughing. Feeling the rain water coat his skin.

It reminds him of those times he has seen a Wastelander survive perilous odds, been driven to such a point where the only thing possible was to laugh. He had felt that way himself, in his younger days, surviving Praxis.

He hopes that fat bastard appreciates needing a cybernetic facial section. Got him back for shattering his knee.

“I will observe him. And inform you if he is a danger.” Seem swiftly bowed, and he grunted in response. Good. Taking that as a dismissal, the monk left him to his thoughts.

“Just who are you, boy? What hole did you escape?” He asks himself, leaning back in his chair.

Questions will elude him until the boy awakens, that is true. But for now, he has duties and errands to attend to.

The turret will need the brine removed to stay functional. He will need to follow up on Kleavor’s reports of the Marauder Tribes. He will need to contact Sig.

And then he will need to avoid throwing up in his mouth when he listens to the Rot that has infested his once home. Praxis, Krew, the feelers from Kras City, Veger.

He should’ve shot that bastard instead of listening to that idiotic seeress. That Veger would be ‘useful’ further down the line.

And he will need to deal with the disappointment of knowing that Sig likely had not found Mar yet. And that Tala would insist he should stop chasing ghosts and return to the present, while she held back her own grief of what happened to their son.

When he finds whoever stole him away, Damas will kill that man with his bare hands. Beat him into meaty chunks and feed him to the wastes.

Still. He needs to speak with Sig.

“How is he?” Damas asked as he ducked into the medical pavilion, staring at the still unconscious form of the prisoner boy.

“Stable. His body seems to have an affinity with Dark Eco enough to separate it down to different Eco types. Mostly green, but he could probably make other colors.” Olrun frowned as Pribata shuffled around the tent, grabbing this and that to attend to other patients. “Whatever it’s doing is similar to Red Eco overdose. Gathering in specific spots that would normally suffer the most damage. But he seems to have isolated the Dark Eco with Green, keeping it from damaging him too severely. It’s impressive. And entirely instinctual.”

“Instinctual?” Damas didn’t hear that correctly, did he? “That would be unlikely.”

Not impossible. Never impossible. Anything can happen in this life, and he knew that now for certain. The scar along his throat, and his shattered knee, reminded him of that.

“Extremely. His affinity for the different Eco types is greater than yours, and he’s channeled each type at least once. Light included.” Olrun held up a chart that Damas took, frowning at it as if demanding it release its secrets.

Those secrets, of course, are simply readouts and notations. That the prisoner’s body responds well to Green Eco, and is energized properly by Blue, strengthened by Red, and charged by Yellow. That Dark, rather than kill him, instead causes him to shift in an odd way.

That Light seems to be drawn to him almost aggressively, likely because of that same Dark Eco.

“I see.” Damas truthfully did not see, but Olrun would still explain it for him. The older man liked to ramble. “Could this become a problem?”

“Provided we have Light Eco on hand when he wakes up? He should be quieter than a Kangarat sleeping off a grain raid.” Good tidings, at least.

“I’m glad. This much surgery work is extensive, and I would not wish that pain on anyone.” Especially one that was not at the age to earn their place in the Arena.

If he wished to join them, they would need to find some other trial for him. Or perhaps he would simply become a ward of Spargus.

They are a community first, and if he is not a danger, he will be allowed a place with them. It is the least he can do to show they are better than Haven, that his way is not that of the tyrant.

Still… “When do you think he will rouse from his slumber?”

“No idea. Could be in a minute, could be in a month. Maybe never, but I don’t think that last one’s likely.” Olrun sighs, and he understands. As with all things, never impossible.

“Guurhh…” A groan rose from the insensate boy on the bed in front of him, and Damas just gestured at him, causing Olren to nod his head.

“Speak of the Dark Maker, and he shall awaken.” Olrun said with some amusement, and Damas had a fleeting smile on his face. He remembers a time that was in reference to Tala. Still, their mystery boy is cognizant enough to reach for something, so he should be mildly aware.

“Can you hear me?” Damas started, a few Wastelanders moving into view in case this becomes violent. “Young man?”

“Beach… did I get to the beach? With the happy squid?” The boy quietly whispers, and Damas blinks. The Beach? Why would… 

“You’re from Spargus.” Damas quietly says to himself.

“Don’t tell Samos… he’d ruin it… always ruined the beach… old… log head…” The boy shifted, and Olrun uncorked the Light Eco gel, spreading it on his fingers and bringing it to the boy’s chest. “And… gotta find cells… Kiera’s zoomer ain't finished yet… I’ll blow up in Fire Canyon…”

With that… enlightening story, the boy immediately dropped to the bed, and was once more out like a light. But, they have a lead, at least. “He’s got Spargus blood.” Olrun quietly hummed, shifting in his chair. “Kin. How did they… When would there have been time?”

Damas’ frown becomes more severe as he considers that. He can’t think of any major raid that wasn’t the capture of… Mar. Not in memory. “We will need to discover this, in time. But, he knows the beach, the squid. A safe place while being tortured…” He trailed off in disquiet.

If Praxis was doing Dark Eco trials, he would use any undesirables he’d caught in his web. Undesirables like those captured from Spargus, or who attempted to immigrate to Haven. This boy was likely caught up in that. His features are soft, youthful, and Damas is struck trying to figure out how old he could be. Perhaps he is older than he looks, and not younger like the others believed.

Dark Eco does things to the body. Some undocumented. But the notes of the Archeron siblings in Dead Town were intensive, and well catalogued.

He might still have some of them laying around, actually.

“Olrun, keep him under watch. That he is lucid enough to not lash out is good. Saves us trouble. In the meantime, I believe I will research some things. Perhaps I will speak to Sig, and see if he can find out what the Baron has been doing. Perhaps… Perhaps the raid captured more than just Mar.” Damas quietly hummed, before he stalked out without waiting for Olrun to respond.

The old medic would understand. Understood him better than most. He had a granddaughter that vanished in that Raid.

To find one of theirs, stolen away but returned, remembering safety in the beach, likely watched by the Turret, or perhaps even the Squid… it is a good omen. Along with the rain season, perhaps good things are once more coming to Spargus.

He can only hope.

Chapter Text

Blinking when the frequency of his Beacon goes off, Sig nearly sends a shot wide on a hunting trophy, but steadies his grip and tags it immediately.

Krew pays well for these trophies, and doesn’t care what he does with the Skull Gems either.

Still, his Beacon’s going off, and that’d only happen if Damas needed him. Clicking his Peacemaker’s safety, he finds a good spot to climb out in the Pumping Station, settling on resting his back against one of the old water tanks, and clicks his talk box on. “Damas? What’re you doin’ contacting me?”

“Sig. I have news, and a requirement for information.” Damas cut straight to the point, and Sig supposes this must be pretty important.

Still… “I haven’t found him yet, boss. I’m sorry.”

“That…” Damas hisses in a breath, before letting it out. “That is… understandable. And not what I am calling you about. Or perhaps it is connected. I am unsure.”

Ah. Damas can get like this when he’s agitated. Settling, he supposes he just needs to wait for the man to work out what he’s feeling.

“We’ve found someone. Or, specifically, he has found us.” Someone stumbled over Spargus’ location? That aint good. “He is young. Too young. I do not believe he would be ready to face the trials, even should he awaken.”

That… changes things. “Right. What’s this about, Damas? What’s special about this kid?”

“He teleported here. Using Dark Eco. He was wearing a prisoner's uniform. One of Praxis’ favorites, judging by his identification.”

Sig grimaced. “They took away his name. Meaning he’s probably part of that ‘Dark Warrior’ project floating around. Part of the reason the Exiles have dried up. Haven’t been able to nab any new wanderers cause there ain't any to find. All of them go into the KG barracks. Don’t come out. Some of the Havenites say you can hear screaming, if you go there at night. I got a friend that lost his lunch getting even a few seconds of audio.”

Vin has a weak stomach, but the man was a Precursor’s hand when it came to anything tech related. Terrible shot, though. It’ll get him killed down the line. “So, why’s this kid so important? He got some Dark Eco power and they sent him to Spargus?”

“No.” Damas said, and Sig paused.

“What?”

“No one sent him to Spargus. He came here himself. He woke up earlier, and asked if he’d made it to ‘the beach. With the happy squid.’ It was a safe place for him, from what I could tell.”

Sig nearly drops his communicator, because that’s… That’s one of theirs. “Another one?”

“We still don’t know how many were lost. He is older than some, but I do not believe they would have been picky when they were collecting our people.” Damas’ sneer was audible over the talk box, and Sig found himself nodding.

“Damn. That’s… damn.” And with him being ‘Volunteered’ for that torture project… “He would’ve vanished.”

“Gone entirely, either as the Baron’s lapdog… or a body in the sewer, torn apart by Znorkle Tooths or Metalheads.” Damas finished solemnly. Still. “But he is back in Spargus now. He laughed, sobbed really, when he felt the rain on his skin. Ripped that uniform from his chest, and laughed until he fell over. I would have believed him dead, if it weren’t for the smile on his face, and the quiet snoring. He is a hardy one. I am hopeful that this is a good omen.”

“Heh. We need plenty of those, these days.” Sig huffed, before pulling himself up and hauling his trophy. “What should I do?”

“If you can, break into the Barracks. See if you can identify any of our people. Kill anyone in your way if you must. After that? Continue with reconnaissance. It will take time to understand what has been done to our young friend. See if you can find anyone that may be useful to Spargus, in the meanwhile.” Damas ordered him, and he nodded firmly. Sounded good to him.

“Alright. Anything else?”

“No. I will contact you in a week to give you an update, and perhaps have a care package sent to you. Unmarked, of course.” The King hummed, and Sig nodded.

Miconuts and Whumpbee honey sounded pretty good after nothing but the processed crap they called food in Haven. Maybe he’d get some Leaper meat too. “You give me the nicest things, boss.”

“Of course. You are my best warrior. Now go. Continue your mission, and report to me if you discover any of ours in those prisons. Damas out.” With that, the King clicked off, and his Talk Box went back into his pack.

Alright then. Dropping down from the Pumping Station platform, he paused. The Baron might get these cut off, sometime soon. He should probably warn those Undergrounds. They’re still Havenites, but they provide decent information sometimes.

He supposes he should repay that. And take that little Precursor Orb in the back, when was that there? Are they just floating around out here?

He considered for a moment looking around and seeing if he could find more, before shaking his head. “Still the same wet behind the ears cherry Mama had to slap some sense into. Ain't got time to get looking. Gotta deliver these before they start to stink.” He smacked his pack gently, and went to the Airlock.

Krew’ll be paying him decently enough, at least.

That new Barmaid’s got steel in her eyes, and Sig considers trying to strike a rapport. Krew probably hasn’t even noticed, more focused on the money she brought in to consider she could be working for someone else. Or he’d deluded himself into thinking that everyone that worked below the law in Haven answered to him.

Could go either way. And he’s thankful that the man remembered to replace the air filters in the building. It wouldn’t be polite to gag at the stench of his employer’s skin tight silk outfit.

“Evening, cherry.” Sig starts with instead, sending her a small, mildly guarded smile. She notes this, probably puts it into the part of her head that’s been building a profile on him, and then pushes out the vapid blondey act.

“Hiya, Sig!” She ‘cheerfully’ says in a way that just screams artificial to anyone that isn’t born and bred Havenite. Too many people expecting something in exchange for help around these parts. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Well, let me talk to the boss man and I’ll let you know. Might have a job tonight, and if I do that means no drinking.” He waves a finger, and she giggles just a touch too highly, before turning to fill up one of Krew’s legbreaker’s drinks. Jinx. Loudmouth. Good with explosives, at least. Probably going to get eaten by a Metalhead next time he goes down into the sewers.

Still, walking out into Krew’s office, he knocks once, waits for that slimy “come in” that always rings out, and opens the door when he hears it.

It never gets easier looking at this man’s… grotesque amount of girth. But Sig’s seen uglier in the wastes. Even if that was just Metalpedes carving into a dead Metalsaur when the thing went down. Nasty work, that.

“Ah, Sig… good to see you, I had been worried, ey…” Krew trails off in that lilting way of his that tells Sig that if he’d taken longer he might’ve been threatened. But he knows how to pacify Krew.

“Had to stick it out a bit to get the best looking ones.” He buffed out the front of his armor in a way that would come off as pride to Krew, and not mild disappointment in himself for taking so long. Krew had a particular affinity for Spyder Gunners, and so he deposited a few freshly cleaned heads for the man to peruse.

“Hmm. Oh, I like these ones. Drums up business, ey? More than the new Barmaid, at least.” Krew turned in that hoverchair of his, running a hand over one of the heads with a pleased look. “Good. Clean as well. You really are one of my favorites, you know Sig? You don’t dump dripping heads onto my nice desk, and dirty my nice floors, ey?”

“I try to keep a tidy workplace.” Sig said politely, and Krew nodded in the way that caused his fat rolls to jiggle. Eugh.

“Yes, much better than some of my others, ey? Considering… letting them go.” Krew shifted in his hoverchair, pouring out some of that Kras City crap they called wine and then downing the bottle instead of drinking the cup. “I have a few jobs some of my less… interesting employees can get lost on. See what my contacts need, ey? You’d clean up if a job went wrong, ey?”

“Course. It’s what I do best.” He hefted the Peacemaker against his shoulder and tapped it twice. Highest setting could take down Spyder Gunners in one shot. Little more left over than dust if used on a person. And there are stronger pieces that run on the same charge the Peacemaker uses too. That Super Nova had him seeing spots for a week, but it killed Metalheads real good.

Killed people just as good, too. Killed them worse, actually.

“Good. Very good, ey. Get these mounted for me. Put the biggest over the bar. Maybe I’ll feel generous, later. For now, your payment.” Krew threw a bag at him, heavier for once, instead of lighter. “And a bonus. Perhaps I will find you something for your Peacemaker as well, ey?”

“I appreciate that, boss.” He nodded, and Krew waves a hand.

“I’m a very generous man, provided you do good work for me. Still… I would say it’s about dinner time. Leave me to my dinner, ey?”

Taking the dismissal for what it is, Sig grabbed the heads of his quarry and left the office room, using everything in his power to not breathe in deeper the moment he stepped into the Hip-Hog’s air. Like a Leaper ate something and died… Something foul lived under that man’s stomach, and he didn’t know if it was his intestine, or some kind of dead animal.

Maybe both.

Still, he put his payment in his pack, bolted the heads to their respective display areas, and took a single glass of smelling alcohol to try and clear away the burning in his nostrils from being around Krew in an enclosed space.

Letting out a breath, he places it back on the counter, gives Tess a nod, and then walks out the door. KG Barracks easiest entrance to find is down in the Slums. They leave the door unlocked because of that Tank in the Ammo Dump.

Lucky him, he aint going through the Ammo Dump.

Still, an hour later, he’s shuffling through vents, careful to keep his armor from scraping, until he finds himself in… some kind of torture chamber. Sickly green light, tainted Green Eco maybe.

Grim thing to see. Harrowing, even. And he’d seen a lot in his life. Done worse, too. But not this bad.

“And what do you mean ‘he just vanished’!? What kind of excuse is that!?” Praxis himself, come down to yell at his scientists no doubt. Or that prickly KG in the racer’s uniform.

“S-sir, I understand it may sound ridiculous, but he used the Dark Eco to escape! Twisted it in his body and-and… teleported!” Said prickly KG in the racer’s getup said, stepping back. A small part of Sig almost hopes he falls, but the man seems to catch himself at the last second. “We were undergoing routine injections. He was willful, so I upped the voltage. He spat out a glob of it, as well, and laughed at my disgust. I hit him with more as I turned away to study it, and then…”

Turning to the… well, it looks like it would’ve been some kind of holding facility, now just severely mangled metal dangling off of the pit of cells, some of them ripped open, others sealed. He feels pity for the ones that didn’t run.

“And then he escaped, meaning our best test subject for the Dark Warrior project has escaped. Meaning I have wasted all of this eco on a test subject that escaped!” Praxis roars, picking up the guard by the neck and pulling him close. “This was YOUR project, Errol! I wanted results! Not a ruined SECURITY WING, WITH MINIMAL POWER! Those Parasites from Kras City are flooding in through the docks, the Metalheads are attacking us at every turn, and now I have lost the most promising recruit for the Dark Warrior Program! I can’t afford this SETBACK!”

“I- yes, sir, I am aware that this is a problem! But rest assured, he will be found! He couldn’t have gone far… He’d barely been fed! Either he’s somewhere in Haven City, or just outside of it, and I can have my men find him and drag him back in chains!” Error quickly attempted to pacify Praxis, and somehow it worked.

The man known for his raging temper dropped Errol, who meekly bowed as he tried to discreetly rub his neck. Still, Praxis nodded. “See that you do, or perhaps you will be up there next! We will need to find him, and that brat!”

“Of course, sir!” Errol snapped out a salute, before they left the room, and then it was just Sig here, hopping out of the vent.

“Ain't that interesting. Only Brat I can think of Praxis caring about…” He trailed off, and slowly nodded. “Don’t worry little cherry. I’ll find ya. And we’ll get you back home.”

Still, right now… He’s got to find out everything about this Dark Warrior project.

At least some of the terminals are still around. Makes his life easier.

“You there!” A voice made him stop and turn. A woman, in the cells. She didn’t look like a Havenite.

Didn’t look like she was from Spargus or Kras, either.

“Who’re you?” He asks, and she grimaces at him. No. Pain. Something’s wrong with her.

“You’re looking for the one that was kept here, yes? Or what they did to him?” She says instead, and Sig supposes this conversation’s just gotten more interesting.

“I’m interested in that, yes.”

“Let me out of here, and I will show you everything.” She promises, and Sig… Sig supposes he can work with that.

Opening a cell door is easier than breaking into the Baron’s files, anyway. And if she’s lying he’ll be able to deal with a half-starved prisoner anyway.

Heh.

Chapter Text

A calm has descended on Spargus because of the rain season. The air was wet, and brought the smell of petrichor to Spargus.

It brought other things. Wet coughs, fevers in some places. But Desert living was always harsh, and they weathered the storm of infections as well as any settlement could.

Still, there was a calm.

And then there wasn’t, as Damas finds he has to quickly rush down to the Medical pavilion, forcing open the curtain to see- “What am I looking at?”

Their wayward youth, holding his IV line like it was a jousting lance, and was currently in the process of poking it at one of his Wastelanders.

At the very least he didn’t remove it from his elbow, and the cord was long enough that the distance he wanted wouldn’t cause it to remove itself.

“Uh…” The idiotic child holding his IV line intelligently said, Olrun and Pribata quickly trying to get him to calm down so that they could remove the drip from his arm, while some of his Wastelanders just shuffled in place. “They started it?”

“Right.” Damas flatly said, dry as the desert, and thankfully this idiotic child wilts instead of puffing up. Good. “And how exactly did they start it?”

“Well…” He trails off as Pribata finally manages to remove the cord from his body, wincing slightly even as he’s given a Green Eco mote for his trouble. It helps, evidently. “That one,” he points to Julek, who grimaces, “immediately showed up in front of my face to demand who I was. So I kicked him in the mouth. And then nearly tore out that needle because of it. And then the other two started shouting, and then I was shouting, and I haven’t actually talked this much ever, I think. My throat hurts.” He finishes, rubbing his throat for good measure, and Olrun gives him a glass of water. “Oh. Thanks.”

Precursors spare him from impatient Wastelanders under his care. “Julek. You’re helping Kleiver Today.”

“Damn it…” Julek hisses as he leaves, looking a touch green. “But he doesn’t even bathe!”

Well that will certainly win Julek some points with Kleiver. Foolish Wastelander. “You two.” He turns, looking at Pomor and Amar, pointing his hands to the doorway. Thankfully, unlike Julek, they leave without complaining. And so Damas drops into the empty berth beside the thankfully docile young man, and sighs. “I apologize if my people have soured your view of us. We are a rough people, but not many of us are so rude as to demand answers of someone recuperating.”

The young man blinks, slowly putting down his impromptu spear. He’s also only drank half his water, which either means he understands he’s in a desert, or he learnt to ration it while he was a prisoner. One would be a good sign, at least, but he can guess which side it fell toward. “Oh. Uh. Thanks. I mean. Apology accepted. Or. However you say it.”

“The way you say it, you have not talked much before this point. How did you speak, before?” Damas begins with an easier topic, rather than immediately demanding his name and the information of what they were doing to the poor lad. That can come after Sig’s next report.

“Oh. Uh…” Jak began, shifting his fingers in a way that slowly became familiar, yet not. An odd hodge-podge of Spargus Wastelander signs and… hmm. Old Precursor symbols? Older than Haven, at least. Interesting. None of the signs that the closer Marauder tribes used, but… they were definitely a diverse people, and he’s sure he’s seen some of these signs from the ones closer to their old Mountain and Dread Swamp.

Hmm. He mentioned Fire Canyon. Fire Canyon used to be the connection point of Dead Town to the old Precursor Basin, which was connected to Dread Swamp. Or… it had a different name, back then.

“I recognize some of these signs. Spargus Sign, of course, but also Marauder’s Mountain, and Dread Swamp. When did you have time to learn this?” He asks, and the boy blinks at him.

“Dread Swamp? You mean Boggy Swamp, with the Yellow Eco Vents? And the… bog… that burned… alot…” The boy trailed off, and then rubbed one of his legs, and ah. That makes sense. He likely fell in, and was assisted by a local.

That there were still people willing or insane enough to co-exist with Metalheads at all, or Hunt the larger ones, in a swamp if they weren’t screaming for the creatures to ‘GIT OFF AH MAH PROPERTY’ if he remembered the shout right, still boggles the mind. But Damas is not about to distress the young man further. “I imagine it would. Bogs are very cruel things in nature, and a swamp hardy enough to fight off the Metalheads would be even worse.”

“Yeah… and the Lurker Rats were just the worst.” The boy quietly mumbles, and hmm, that… perhaps that is why the bog still has such a large amount of food, if Lurker Rats were abundant. It would make sense… “A-anyway, yeah I learned it from a guy named Boggy Billy. He was… drunk. And lazy. I had to keep his Hip-Hog’s food safe from the rats.”

It is rare, but Damas… doesn’t know what to do with this information. “I see. Well, that your sign is well trained implies you’ve used it most of your life. What has caused you to turn to verbal communication?”

“That… most people don’t know sign. I tried communicating in the pr-... in the Prisons but they just shook their heads.” The young man steeled himself after his stutter, and Damas understands. Those events leave marks on people. “So I had to learn to speak. It was hard. My cell neighbour was loud. She sounded familiar, too. Kept talking about trying to get even a sliver of Eco so she could escape.”

“Of course.” Damas nodded, before leaning back. “What is your name, young man?”

“Oh. Jak. No… no last name.” The kid, Jak, grinned at him lopsidedly, and Damas nodded.

“Family names are rare, out here. There are community sectors that function as a similar thing.” Damas starts gently, wanting to at least explain things before he drops any large mines onto Jak. “You remember the beach, which was safe, and the ‘Happy Squid’ as you called it. Do you remember your family? Perhaps we could reunite you with them?”

Jak opens his mouth, and then shut it, slowly frowning. “I don’t… I don’t know if they were my family. But I remember a ship. And a woman. I don’t remember her face, but she was safe. And… scars. Lots of scars. Bad ones.”

Raising an eyebrow, Damas rubs his chin. Bad scars… “Doesn’t narrow it down, Jak. Many of ours have scars. It comes with life in the Wastelands. In the Desert.”

“I was… The… The Dark Eco only helped me remember so much.” Jak quietly shuffled, rubbing the side of his face in an odd nervous tic. “Anything that isn’t living in Sandover was just… A bright flash. And then the beach. And then being on a ship and looking up at a faceless woman, and a man with scars. Neck and chest.”

Neck and chest… hmm. Quite a few of those. But ships… Tala would be ferrying people to Spargus for a decently long time, but he never heard her mention a place called Sandover. “How did you get to Haven?”

“A Warp Gate. Or, a Rift Gate. Uh… A floating piece of Precursor Technology. It was a ring.” Jak says, before using his fingers to make a circle. “It had bits and pieces floating off of it. And we had to use the Rift Rider, or Rift Racer, or something. It was bigger than Keira’s Zoomer, a kind of… flying… machine. It ran on Eco. Had an engine.” Is this young man explaining Zoomers to him? How backwoods would this place have been?

“Right. And what happened?”

Jak’s countenance dropped, and an oddly furious yet calm mood settled over him. “Monsters. Just… thousands of them. When we opened the gate.”

Ah. Metalheads. “I understand.”

“The largest one, it had a… a crown. Or something. Around its face. Like hands, or claws. It screamed something, but we weren’t listening. I pressed the button to launch the Rift Racer, kind of hope I knocked his head off.” Jak darkly muttered, and Damas can truly understand him.

“Metalheads. They are monsters. They thrive off of violence and mayhem, whatever is controlling them too intelligent for them to simply be mindless beasts.” He softly says, despite his rasp. Explaining Metalheads to survivors, especially after a major ordeal, is something almost every Wastelander has gone through, at least once. He does not know if his is particularly delicate, but he doubts Jak would care for that. “Do you know if your friends survived?”

“Daxter was with me. A-and, I think Keira came through too, she fell off but she should be okay, but I don’t know where she is. But Daxter should be in Haven City. He’s… small. Orange. About a foot tall if you don’t count his tail.” Jak quickly demonstrates, and while looking for a wayward pet isn’t a high priority, he might ask Sig to keep an eye out. Even if this ‘Daxter’ was dead, it would not hurt to give Jak closure. “And… old Log Head was there too. But, I think he would’ve been in prison if he got out. The Baron was rounding up anyone that could use Eco for his experiments.”

Ah. An Eco Sage, most likely. Perhaps a teacher, though with the mild disrespect Jak showed him, perhaps not. Still… Kleiver mentioned a new boss had showed up in Kras City, last time the man communicated with some of his ‘Racing Buddies’ as he said. And Gheira is a very distinctive name. It wouldn’t hurt to speak with the man.

“Well. You have been through a terrible ordeal, young man.” Damas begins, standing up and gently clapping a hand onto Jak’s shoulder. “But, you have pulled through, and more importantly, you have survived long enough to return. Welcome home, Jak. Welcome to Spargus.”

Jak blinks at him, and Damas takes that moment to walk out, opening the flap of the pavilion with his arm. The light causes Jak to squint, but the boy still stands up and follows, staring out at the city. “The… the safe beach… it had a gun turret. And an island in the center.”

“Yes. Spargus has defended itself using that turret, as well as the Squid, for many years. Long before I came to be here, as well. And it will continue to do so as time goes on.” Damas replies with pride in his home, and the awed sound Jak lets out makes him smile. “It is your home now, should you wish.”

He doesn’t want to say that Sandover is likely dead and gone. But Jak is perceptive, and likely already knows. But the boy just nods his head. Good. “I will have Olrun retrieve you some more desert appropriate attire. After that, we will figure out your living situation until such a time that we can find any remaining family you have here. Does that sound good?”

“I… yeah…” Jak trails off, and then stands up and leans against Olrun’s desk. “I never thought… I mean, I had uncle. We had similar hair colors. But I never thought that I might have actual… actual family. Like, parents. Or grandparents, maybe.”

Hmm. “It is a tough life you have lived, young man. I hope I will be able to ease your burden. I will ask that you come to the palace, once Olrun has given you clothing. If you become lost, ask for directions. The locals are much less greed inclined than Haven, if you are worried.”

He leaves with those words, walking back into the palace, and dropping into his throne. He sighs, and as he does with every raid survivor, every Wastelander dead to the Metalheads, and for his son, Damas grieves. He grieves for family lost. He grieves for the life Jak has lived, that he knows of, one of pain, and one of torture. And most importantly, he grieves for another community lost to the Metalheads.

Devil creatures. Whatever the ‘Dark Makers’ are doing at the moment, he wishes beyond hope that he could wipe the creatures out entirely.

But, Jak is strong. He will recover, hopefully, and return stronger.

Now, to find this ‘Gheira’ character. Pulling out his talk box, he dials Kleiver. “Kleiver.”

“Boss man. Why’d you send me the runt? He can barely pick up my screwdrivers.” Kleiver grunts back with his usual half-hearted spite.

Still, Damas smiles. “He caused trouble with one of our new patients. Speaking of, the young man mentioned a familiar name. A… Gheira.”

“Gheira? Oh, you mean Kihara. Right, right. Lady’s a proper monster. Took over Mizo’s gang real quick. Wiped the bastard out, along with a few of his lieutenants. Dunno how she did it, but the boom was visible from the Gate. Bloody marvelous.” Kleiver said with a laugh, and that sounds dangerous.

But… Jak would likely demand to see her anyway, even if just to confirm if she was his friend or not. “Do you have a picture of this woman?”

“Hmm. I’ll get back to you on that.” Kleiver replies, and Damas nods. Alright then. “That all, boss?”

“That’s all. Thank you Kleiver.”

“Course. I’ll get to work on that picture. Enjoy the rains.”

“I will.” He clicks off his talk box, and leans back as yet another rain bubbles up. Lightning, this time.

He will have to hope that Sig can get back to him about finding anyone useful for Spargus. They will likely need all the help they can get, and if Jak was imprisoned with anyone that had the capability to manipulate Eco, it could help train him and prevent any large influx of Dark power.

Dark Eco was a force that not many meddle with for good reason, after all.

Chapter Text

The moment She found Gol, Maia was going to kill him. Slowly. And not just because of the absolute fuckening that happened with the Precursor Robot. That was the Boy’s fault. 

No.

She was going to kill him because of the dumbass’ idea of super-charging her Dark Teleportation with the Silo’s ambient Dark Eco to escape its destruction.

Ripping her straight into a prison cell, and sending Gol Precursors’ knew where. Wrapping the cloak her savior gave her, Sig, closer to her body to ward off the chill of this thrice accursed city, she frowned even as she enjoyed a small helping of Whumpbee honey. It tasted different compared to the honey she remembered, and it wasn’t as good as Misty Island’s, but it was a comfort compared to the gruel they fed her to prevent her expiration.

Enough to keep her alive, not enough to keep her strength. Even she and Gol weren’t so cruel to their captives.

Idly, she wondered where the boy found himself. Using one of her techniques like a hammer the way he did, he could easily be half way across the planet. Or stuck inside of a wall, slowly suffocating.

She can’t believe she found herself hoping it was the former. But she balmed that incredulity with the thought that revenge could not be inflicted upon a corpse.

If she even wanted revenge. Her thoughts were turbulent without Gol around to stoke her anger. Where he found the fury of Dark Eco natural, she was always drawn more to the allure, the focus that it granted her.

She had managed to move past the minor embarrassment of Sig catching her dipping a hand into his ammo supply, because his ‘Peacemaker’ ran purely on Dark Eco, and explaining that she needed it was… difficult.

The man was skeptical, but she was sure that what he found in that prison alongside the few Precursor orbs he took hold of mollified him.

Another strange thing about this place. The sheer lack of Precursor orbs, let alone anything to do with them.

She was also sure that she would have felt this City before with just how much Dark Eco ran through its underbelly, powering its electronics in a way similar to Blue Eco but… less so.

Not as efficient. Robust, however.

The Blue Sage would likely have conniptions, seeing Dark Eco power an engineering monolith instead of his precious Blue.

The thought brought a small smile to her face that quickly faded. She was out of Whumpbee honey. A shame.

“Cherry.” Sig’s voice had her eyes flick to the man, raising an eyebrow. “You’re good with all that Eco junk, right? Can pick it out no matter how deep it is?”

She bit back the instinctive retort, that Eco was an artform, because Sig was a pragmatist. She could not fault him for relying on his own equipment when a large amount of the equipment around them was rundown and damaged. “Yes. What do you need?”

“Got a job. Krew wants me to find something that should be saturated in it. Valuable. If you want to earn your way, I’ll need your help.” He laid out his terms, and Maia nodded.

Repaying her debt to the man for not only freeing her, but giving her shelter and food, was more important then the idea of doing busy work physically repulsing her.

… “We aren’t going into those ‘sewers’ are we?”

“No. Not today. Hopefully not ever.” He immediately removed her doubt as she nodded her head and picked up the staff she had to get used to.

A ‘Gunstaff’ as Sig called it. Ran on different forms of Eco provided she had the right ‘Morph’ attachment.

Running the weapons on Dark Eco was feasible, but unwieldy. She avoided using it with the Scattergun simply because the sheer recoil nearly shattered her arm. And shoulder. And ribs.

… A large amount of her body, admittedly.

But the Blaster took to Dark Eco just as well as it did Yellow, and was easier to fill besides.

“Let us make haste, then. Do you wish for me to accelerate our trip?” She offered him her hand, and the man actually looked thoughtful, before he shook his head once.

“No. Trip helps us plan, gets me in the right mindset.” He rebuffed her, and she simply dropped her hand and nodded as the two of them left the little ‘apartment’ Sig owned.

The farming district, or Agricultural district, was… better. Then most of the city. Smelled better, despite the faint smell of Yakow on the breeze. Compared to the industrial district, the port, or even the stadium district…

She preferred it here. Even with the smell of Yakow.

The two of them move onto Sig’s ‘Cruiser’ zoomer, the familiar design having caused Maia to frown when she first saw the single seater. She was not aware that Sage Hagai’s daughter had sent her designs abroad. But when she asked about it, the only explanation she received was that it had been pulled from the remains of an area called ‘Dead Town’.

For some reason she doubted the name was ironic.

“Are we working with any of your brutish associates?” She turned to Sig, the wind not enough to keep her from actually hearing the man reply.

“Not this time. Krew wanted me to go alone, give him time to clean house. Figure at least half those ones’ll be dead by the time we get back.”

Charming. She’d only met this ‘Krew’ once, but the man’s stench nearly overpowered her despite her acclimating to the smell of the prison. How something that large could even live, let alone hold a monopoly on organized crime in this cesspool of a city, was something Maia could not fathom.

But he did. And did not take her wince personally. That he had given her a weapon mod, the Morphgun, after only two simple missions, was… nice.

A delivery, and information gathering.

She doubted that the man knew her abilities, when she had adequate stores of Dark Eco, but he appreciated her work regardless.

“We’re here.” Sig stated, causing her to remove herself from the Cruiser even as she blinked back to awareness, cocking her Gunstaff and frowning as she observed the airlock.

What was plaguing this city, that it required these walls, charged with Eco and yet with such obvious weak points around.

Even just attacking the walls next to the airlocks would remove large sections of it.

But, it was not her place to criticize architects. After all, she and Gol failed even with an army of Lurkers.

Seeing them as slaves had made her feel… odd. She did not know the name of the feeling, but disliked it.

She especially disliked looking at the Lurkers acting as servants as well. How these people managed to subjugate them to such a point was…

Shaking her head, she ignored that and continued forward, stepping into the airlock with Sig. He was tense.

“You are tense. Orb for your thoughts?” She asked, and then noted the grim countenance her savior wore.

“You ever face a Metalhead before?”

“No. I’ve never heard of them.” Maia shook her head, and then noted the incredulity on Sig’s face. “Are they numerous?”

“Extremely. Dangerous, violent, and prone to ambushing if they can. They’ll tear you to pieces and fight over the scraps.” He firmly stated, and Maia… Maia nodded and held her staff closer.

“Noted.”

The airlock finished cycling with that, letting them step out to the area that Sig graciously called the ‘Pumping Station’, a steel machine built around an island.

The sound of industry comforted her. Reminded her of the Citadel.

Still… “This way.” She quietly ordered, making her way along the beach and ignoring the three pump platforms.

She can see some of those metal creatures, unsightly, monstrous… Full of Dark Eco.

Isn’t that interesting…

Focusing on that Dark Eco, she took hold of it, hoping to manipulate these creatures. Having servants that were powerful still appealed to her, and especially after seeing the Lurkers in the state they were in.

All she had to do was pull…

“Oh sweet Precursors!” She yelled when the creature exploded, Sig beside her quickly holding up his gun as the thing’s blood seeped into the sand, a few Dark Eco motes floating where it stood previously. “I… that wasn’t… I didn’t-”

“Easy, Cherry.” Sig’s voice assured her, even as the other staff wielding creatures looked at their dead comrade. “Think you can do that again?”

Gulping, she nodded her head, repeating the process with two others. “You will need to clear them while I focus. I can only do two at a time as I am.”

Gruesome as the practice was, if she were at her full strength ripping the Eco out of their bodies would be nothing. And pulling that same Eco to her caused her hand to clench.

She will need to gather enough to soak.

It does not take long to clear the beach, and the upper catwalk, and she was about to continue when she saw something out of the corner of her eye, spying a Precursor orb and… “There it is.”

They placed the Eco inside of a bag and buried it beside the Precursor orb. No one would have looked twice, happy with their prize instead.

“Alright. Let’s get it and get out.” Sig grunted.

Letting out a small breath, she dropped into the water, mildly surprised it was warm, before taking hold of the orb and staring at the wall. Clicking her tongue, she pulled up her Gunstaff and jammed it into the rock, pressing against it despite the lack of leverage and cursing her lack of strength.

Grunting as she strained herself, she tapped into a small amount of the Dark Eco collected from their little fight to leverage the rock out. “This would be so much easier if I could still fly.”

When she had enough Eco to soak in, that would be the first thing she re-acquired. Flight sounded so useful instead of her having to rely on her shoddy stamina to do anything. It was easier, not having to use her legs. Even if Gol used it to the point he couldn’t turn it off, she was not so wasteful.

… hmm. Perhaps her brother simply floated away, and that was why she couldn’t find him? That might explain a few things.

“Got it yet, Cherry?” Sig’s voice knocked her back to the presence, and she let out a growl of aggravation before giving up and shaking her head. “I gotcha.”

Hearing a splash, she doesn’t turn as the man settled beside her, before the both of them push against her staff, the rock slowly coming loose, before… Got it.

A splash, and their prize revealed, Maia pulling herself up and into the small crevice to stare at… “Power Cells?”

“Power Cells?” Sig’s voice echoed from beside her. “How many?”

Flipping open the bag to stare at the tube, she frowned. “Five. Six, but one is empty. Needs more Eco to charge… No matter.”

Closing the bag, she quickly shifted back to hold out the tube for Sig to take, and shrugged when he stared at her. “Eco Channelers touching Power Cells tends to active them properly. Unless you want to charge them off of Dark Eco, I suggest you carry them.”

“Makes sense.” Sig quietly said, before the both of them swam around to a small maintenance alcove, as far as Maia could tell. Three different spinning platforms, for whatever reason, pipes, vents. So many things. Stepping onto dry land, She shook off her cloak and sighed. “Don’t feel too bad. Least we were out here.”

“That… that is true.” She had to nod at that. If they had been in the sewers… She likely would’ve refused entirely to assist Sig. “I will be commandeering your bathtub when we return, I believe. I should hopefully have enough Dark Eco to regain at least some of my strength.”

“Be careful with that stuff, Chili pepper.” He warned her, and she noted the nickname switch. Odd. “Even if you can survive it, using it wrong’ll mess you up something fierce.”

Thinking of Gol and his… injection sites, Maia nodded her head. “I am aware. But your concern is noted and appreciated. Let’s leave this place. Perhaps we’ll have enough pay left to eat something nice tonight.”

“Yakow steaks and Marsh Yams sound pretty good.” Sig noted, and Maia felt mild irritation at herself for the way her stomach rumbled.

But, it beat whatever those… Junkburger things were.

… She will admit, the Dirtyhog burgers were growing on her. The salt variety, fresh buns, ‘Kras City Grease’ and those odd… spiral onions.

She was making herself hungrier. “It does. Let us make haste, and hope your Cruiser hasn’t been stolen.”

“Left a gift for anyone that tried while you were distracted.” Sig chuckled beside her as they stepped into the Airlock.

There… was an odd pull, as the both of them walked out into the shanty town. The Slums, as it was charmingly named, shouldn’t have had anything that could pull on her… Curious.

Chapter Text

Going over some of the reports for the fight against the Baron, Torn sighed as he saw some bad omens. Krew’s boys were hard to trust, Jinx not included. His sole spy actually working as a merc at least gave decent intel on Krew’s movements, in ways that wouldn’t get the guy shot and dumped in a dark alley.

But that’s the only good news he’s got. That Krew isn’t currently on retainer for the Baron means they can start pulling jobs, start getting cash flowing through the slums again. Maybe not fix things, because the Baron would be on that, but getting food in from the Agriculture district, or even some green Eco pumps, or maybe even some of that foreign Desert stuff.

It’d help. Wastelanders have a gift with medicine that they sorely need.

On the other side of things, the Kras City boys are mildly more trustworthy then Krew’s men. But also more liable to stab someone. The ‘Kras City hello’ as they called it. He can get why they do it, because of the things he’s heard coming out of Kras City meaning you can’t trust anyone to be what they look like, but it’s costing them more Eco then they can really afford.

And that’s not mentioning the new Pit Boss. Whoever the hell they are, they ripped through Kras City like a storm, took it by the horns, and subjugated it. Crazy bastard force-fed someone a tire iron, called it the ‘Sandover Special’ or something. And that was the first thing he’d heard about them before they took over the city.

Even killed the old Pit-Boss, Mizo. A guy as dangerous as Krew, to the point of them being rivals, and this guy came out of nowhere and just killed him.

Weirdly, that race announcer, G.T Blitz vanished. Probably some kind of dead-man’s switch or something. Force the new boss to find an announcer instead of having the old one.

Pausing, he poured some coffee, shitty coffee with only small hints of that soothing hit of Green Eco he had to pull out of the filters, and quickly drank it, feeling just that bit more awake.

He took a moment to savor that feeling, and then went back to work. Marking a few things to call Tess about once she got off work, he quickly looked at the other reports as well. Great big explosion in the Baron’s Prison, apparently a Dark Eco bomb went off.

He doubted that. There was a lot of Dark Eco vanishing over there, and he wouldn’t be shocked if they were pumping it into something and just overloaded it. But he had no proof, and no one to get inside.

Sig and a woman he didn’t know collected six power cells, old smuggler’s crate that never got claimed. Valuable… He should probably put aside funds to buy one from Krew. They’ll likely need it when the Baron cracks down on the slums again.

And that Kras City Pit Boss was supposedly coming here for the Haven Cup. Fantastic.

“-And lemme tell ya! Sneaking around that shield wall? The worst idea imaginable! Those Metal Bugs in there- there’s thousands of them! And the boss was ugly as all sin to boot! I mean, I killed it, Orange Lightning, best exterminator in the business, but that didn’t mean I wanted to! And he killed my sidekick!”

Speaking of fantastic, he thought derogatorily as ‘The Orange Lightning’ AKA a two foot tall rat, walked in grumbling loudly to anyone that would listen about his woes.

Torn might be just a small bit unfair, because he doesn’t like Daxter. Anyone else having to fight a Metal Bug Queen would probably have a bit more sympathy. But Daxter pissed him off, and he pissed Daxter off just as much.

“Heya tall, dark, and depressed. Who died?” Said annoyance says, jumping up onto his table and folding his arms.

“Rat.” He shot back, and then shook his head. “Just new problems coming in. Did you find anything?”

“Well… Nothing in the shield wall. Outside, same story as usual, just a bunch of Metal Heads looking to eat us all, inside, just some creepy old guy stroking his beard angrily.” Daxter listed off, and then dropped down to go through the reports. “No sign of Jak, either. You guys said he was in the prison.”

“He was.” Torn nodded back, but understood the frustration. Jak, green haired, sixteen maybe, probably fast tracked as an experiment. Not dead. Not yet. “Probably vanished when that Dark Eco detonated.”

“Slipped away, or disintegrated?” Daxter tried to be casual, but he could see the concern for his friend. Torn could, mildly, sympathize with that at least.

They’d lost too many good men, women, and even Lurkers to that prison. Hell hole place.

“Don’t know. They’re looking for something, I’m going to assume it’s him. Probably slipped out, got the Guard in a shitstorm.”

Daxter frowned, but slowly nodded. “Good news at least, if those stiffs are stuck looking for him. Doesn’t help me none, and he might end up face down in that ditch halfway through the slums if he’s not careful though. Jak needs me. Always has.”

Definitely the other way around, but Torn’s not about to point that out. Last dude that tried to point out one of the Rat’s flaws actually got mauled, and showed that for all his bluster, Daxter could make a full grown man cry with just his claws and teeth.

Funniest shit he ever saw. Hardened Underground soldier, resitant to torture and willing to die for the cause, curled up in the fetal position and crying for help because of a two foot tall Rat.

Still. “Here.” He slid over Daxter’s pay, meagre as it was. “Osmo’s not getting anymore business until Taryn finishes repairing his shop. Meanwhile, you need to eat.”

Daxter picked up the sack, opened it and pulled out the security gate clearance for the Port he slipped in for the guy, and squinted before slowly nodding. “Always that port. Always.”

“Don’t know why.” Torn agreed, rubbing his face. “Tess says she’s willing to let you stay as long as you need to. While you’re there, I want you to keep an eye on three things. Sig, Wastelander, helpful to the Underground, dangerous. And absolutely a spy for someone else.”

“Fancy. What else?”

“Krew’s got shipments coming in through the underport, the sewers, and the port. Do not let him see you as anything other than Tess’ pet, or he will skin you alive.” Torn jabbed his fingers at Daxter, not even caring that the Rat started doing kung fu moves at his fingers. “His appetite for excess is only matched by his actual appetite.”

“Tons of fun, that old wrestler?” Daxter actually gulped, slowly nodding. “He’s got expensive tastes?”

“His vest is made of Lightning Muse fur. Hybrid, expensive, and fantastically rare. Your fur is probably softer even with how little you take care of it.”

“I keep myself clean! Just hard to find clean water outside of my penthouse, and I can’t get across the city as quick as you wackos! They don’t make zoomers my size! It’s discriminatinatory! I feel victimized!” Daxter dramatically said, pointing his finger straight to the roof.

“If Krew gets hold of you, you will be.” Said finger then immediately drooped down as he quickly nodded.

“Right-o, boss man. And number three?”

“Next thing’s a combo. Sig picked up some Dark Eco… scavenger witch, or something. She’s got weird powers. She might be connected to your friend, but we have nothing on her. No one knows her, no one’s met her, and the only places she goes is with Sig. Dirtyhog and Junkburger.” Torn began, getting a nod from Daxter.

“Makes sense. Both of ‘em are cheap, and leave you feeling full. If I was a weird Dark Eco witch I’d probably hide out and pick up food from takeout places.”

“Well that’s wonderful, because you’re the first person to accurately predict how someone like her would feel.” Torn sarcastically said back, before continuing. “Anyway. Compounding issue, the new Pit Boss of Kras City is coming to Haven, for the Haven Cup. We don’t have a driver, Krew doesn’t have a driver prepared, and I’m hoping I don’t have to ask you or Tess to do it. Taryn might do it, but she’s busy. Still. You see a tricked out transporter loaded up with cars or zoomer parts, you call me immediately, and tell me if you see whoever the hell gets off there. Got it?”

“Got it.” Daxter nodded, bouncing the pass in his hand before frowning. “Precursors, I need some pants.”

Slapping a hand to his forehead, Torn sighs, before pulling out some denim scrap pieces they kept around just to patch up uniforms and such. “Here. Stop fuckin’ crying about it n’ go. Tess knows how to sew.”

“Yes! Pants!” Daxter pumped his fist, before gathering up the scrap and stuffing it into his pay sack. “Thanks, gloomy. See you when I see you.”

“Get lost in the city for all I care, Rat.” Torn waved a hand, a small smirk on his face.

“Hah! You wish you’d seen the last of the Orange Lightning!” Daxter grinned over his shoulder, waving a hand as he walked out of the Underground, and then immediately hotwired someone’s zoomer judging by the shouting.

Blowing out a breath, Torn shook his head. “Imagine if he was as effective at getting shit done as he was at causing trouble.”

He paused, letting that sink in, and then shuddered. “Actually nevermind. I think I prefer the blow hard.”

Still, with all that done, the only thing left on the list was Ashelin. Who wanted to return the Prisoners that escaped to the Prison, because she still believed in her father.

Precursors damn it all.

“Heya, beautiful!” Daxter grinned at Tess as she walked back into her apartment, rubbing her hair tiredly and causing his grin to slowly drop. “Y’okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’ve got you to come home to, now.” Tess smiled at him as she dropped down onto her couch and just laid there, and all Daxter could do was put his hand on hers for solidarity. “I had to send some of Krew’s legbreakers to… well. A job they’d die on. A-and I mean, it was about some stupid statue, I didn’t care, but that was it. I didn’t care. I know my job’s to be a spy but that was premeditated, I didn’t give them any kind of warning, and Krew listened to them as they… died. I could hear it through the wall.”

“Oh. Jeez…” Daxter frowned, before pushing himself to his feet and putting a hand on Tess’ shoulder. “Okay. So we’re going straight into the serious talk. Alright. I can do that. Tess.”

He trailed off, licking his lips, and then gave her his firmest look. “Most of those assholes are scum that’d sell their mothers to the Baron for ten bucks. Not even ten bucks. And, yeah, it’s messed up that Krew was listenin’ to it on his radio, but that’s Krew. That’s what he’s about. Guy’s ten tons of fun, without the fun, and he’s got a screw loose from however the hell he got blinded in that eye of his. It’s not your fault that you sent those guys to die. If you didn’t, Krew woulda done it himself, but he woulda been mad that you interrupted his spa day or whatever. And I’m sorry, but I want you alive over some ugly dudes that probably smell worse than the slums. Or the sewers.”

Shit. That was probably too many words. Tess is gonna think he’s a blabbermouth or she’ll have zoned out while he was talking like Samos did. Shiiit.

Okay, Dax, play it cool. Play. It. Cool. Cool as a Cumbertube.

Tess is staring at him. Raising his eyebrows, he gave her his best smile. And she laughed. Once. And then she started crying and oh god he fucked it.

He fucked it entirely, how does he fix it!? What does he do now!? He- “GACK!”

“Thank you, Daxter…” Tess whispered into his air as he was smothered in heaven, the wonderful fortress of comfort that lay upon her chest. “Thank you so much.”

“O’course.” He honked out, still being mildly crushed. “Anything for you, Tess.”

She breathed a bit deeper, and then let him go, and he quickly limbered up his bones. Tess had a strong grip.

He didn’t know what the thing between them was. Didn’t know what to call it. But it made him happy. And he made her happy. And that was the important part.

Even more important than the fact that he could see Tess sewing him pants whenever she wasn’t working that night. Which was rare, but made him feel appreciated. So much so he cleared out all the Metal Bugs in her apartment building.

Of course he left Osmo’s number on the counter. The man needed work killing those bugs, even with Kaedan dead and mounted. Guy had it coming.

Still, all that said, Daxter didn’t know whether Tess wanted the same thing he did, or if they were just on similar wavelengths. But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was quickly making Tess a coffee, because she looked exhausted.

“You’re too good to me, Daxter.” She quietly mumbled as she rested her head on their shared counter, watching him with her eyes as he brewed her up a quick pot. “I wish Torn could see that.”

“Eh, grumpy’s got his own thing goin’ on, an’ besides, he’s the only one that gives as good as he gets. It’s fun, yaknow?” Daxter shrugged, even as he grinned at the thought of messing with Torn. “Everyone else is too focused on me being a talking fuzzball, or not being insensitive, or some other third thing. Torn? He cuts the bullshit, and he’s not afraid to bust my chops if I’m being an asshole. It’s a good thing we got going on.”

“You sure? Cause if it’s hurting you, I can yell at him.” She’s a sweetheart, Daxter wryly thought, before shaking his head and pouring her coffee.

“Nah. Compared to old log head, Torn’s downright nice. Log head wouldn’t give a shit what either Jak or I did. It was always ‘why are you late’ or ‘why did you take too long’ or ‘why did you go to the place I told you not to go, even though I never said why’ and stuff.” Daxter rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out. “Least with Grumpy, yaknow he cares under all the spite, exhaustion, sleep deprivation… trauma… There’s more but if I list it all out I’m gonna be here a while. And get sad.”

Tess giggled at that, taking her mug of coffee, sipping at it, and perking up pretty quick. Perking up enough to smile properly. “If you’re sure. And if I ever meet ‘old log head’ I’ll be sure to give him a piece of my mind for making you feel so bad.”

Considering that Tess called her gun ‘my mind’, Daxter kind of hoped that she ended up meeting Samos. She’d chase him halfway to the Agricultural District and back.

Old fart would deserve it too. Jak might not’a heard but, but he heard the guy whispering about ‘how it happened’. Bastard. Course he knew some major shit was gonna happen and kept it to himself.

Just that damn Sage quest all over again, except this time Daxter knew that Gol and Maia were actually nuts, and not about to help him turn back. And thankfully, hopefully dead.

… There’s no way that Scavenger Witch was Maia. That picture they got showed a real skinny lady, sure, but her tits were smaller by a decent bit, her hair didn’t have that white to gold look, and she had a scar right from the bottom of her jaw across her face.

… it was a bad scar too. Like whoever did it only just barely missed the eye so blood would drip into it. She held one of her wrists too, so she probably got it busted wherever the hell she was.

Still, he should think about other stuff. Like making Tess smile more.

That sounded like a good idea. And then he’ll see if anyone’s coming in through the port. At the very least he wanted to help out Torn because, for all that the guy was curt, he wanted to help him find Jak, and Daxter wanted to repay him.

Sandover sure had a way of sticking with you. Haven wasn’t much different, so many relationships were just transactions.

It made him kind of homesick, honestly. But he didn’t care about Sandover that much either.

Least he has Tess. and Torn. And Jak and Keira are probably out there somewhere.

That’s enough for him, right now.

Chapter Text

Observing… Jak, as he was named, has become Seem’s new job. It is a job they take with grace, of course, but it is not without its own…

Jak was very eccentric. Odd. He would climb the pipes of Spargus simply because he saw a Precursor Egg, and then didn’t understand why no one wished to take all the ones he could find as payment for a single thing.

Another mark of this… ‘Sandover Village’, they supposed. May those souls rest. Still, they had to teach Jak many things, it seemed.

Not least of which, how to not make a fool of himself when bartering. Or accidentally buying out an entire store with a single Precursor Egg.

At the very least he was a deft hand when it came to Eco studies, provided they gave him stimulation to go with it. Meditation did not mix well with the…

Hmm. They do not know how old Jak is. Eco has a way of disguising age, or exacerbating it. For all they knew, Jak could be in his forties. Or eighties.

Doubtful, of course. He was too inexperienced and despite being incredibly jaded, he was not so jaded as the older of Spargus’ number.

Still far more than someone his age should be.

The fact that even he did not know his age didn’t help. But he couldn’t be blamed for that, they supposed.

Eco helped with memory, yes, but it could not reconstruct memory that had completely faded. That he could remember Spargus’ beach enough to teleport here despite a lack of training was a marvel.

Unfortunately that marvel came with… a very hyperactive young man. “Jak.”

Their idiotic student, currently, paused in his track from where he was fistfighting a tentacle of the squid, the both of them actually pausing. Seem was not aware they had crossed paths with some of that drunkard Onin’s supply. “Cease your… activities, with the squid. You have lessons.”

The arrogant brat clicked his tongue, but allowed himself to be placed on the beach, and Seem could only shake their head. “Why are you picking a fight with the Squid?”

“Felt like it. It was fun.” He shot back, a bit hotly, even as he waved goodbye to the squid. “Sides, I asked. Stood on the beach and yelled out and everything.”

Seem opened their mouth, before slowly shutting it. They decided they did not wish to entertain any of that. “I see. Well for now we will be training again.”

“Oh, are we going outside the wall?” As if a switch were flipped, Jak returned to all smiles, jogging off of the beach and waiting patiently at the beginning of Spargus’ market for them to join him. Well behaved, at least, when he wasn’t goofing off.

“Yes.” The Dark Eruption and Dark Storm abilities were dangerous to practice around living beings. “I have asked Kleiver to lend us one of his vehicles. He has made it clear that if we damage it, we will be repairing it.”

“Couldn’t we teleport?” Jak asked, and they rolled their eyes.

“Do you believe you can teleport to an unknown location with nothing to go off of but a description?”

Jak frowned, opening his mouth, and then slowly closed it. After a moment, he shook his head. “No. Probably not.”

“Then we will be using one of Kleiver’s cars.” They finished, clasping their hands together as they walked through Spargus, Jak trailing behind them. “You learn quickly, Jak, but you do not have much training with Dark Eco. That you can separate it into different types is interesting, and also means you can likely still channel the other colors. Do you have enough to create Blue Eco?”

Jak stopped, and that caused Seem to turn around. After a moment, he sparked, a combination of blue and purple, before shaking his head. “No. Not enough to separate it into anything but Green.”

Good. He understood his limits instead of attempting to force it. The amount of promising young monks from the Order, or what was left of it, that pushed themselves too far too quickly was high.

They were glad Jak was not of their number.

“Then do not force it. We will practice when we arrive at the temple.” They finally said, before turning and continuing through Spargus. Jak jogged to catch up, the two of them walking in silence.

It was… nice. Not having to fill the air to reassure those not of the Order. The last to seek their company had to constantly speak in his oafish, bold tones.

Praxis… They could see his hands on this. The man likely decided to speed up the process of teaching a natural Sage by brute forcing it.

Intellectually, Seem knew they were not responsible for the actions of a mad man, that Praxis’ choices were his own. But they still felt grief, the same as when they left Haven.

The same as when Onin refused to deviate from her vision of the future because the alternative was uncertainty.

“You alright?” Jak’s voice knocked them from their thoughts, and Seem turned to stare at him for a moment. The frown on his face reminded them of others. So many others.

“Fine. Just clouded in foolish memories. Taking responsibility for things that I had no real part in doing.” They shook their head, but Jak frowned, and then nodded.

“Yeah… I felt the same for…” He trailed off, and then crossed his arms. “I have a friend. His name’s Daxter. Daxter’s… We called him an Ottsel. Otter Weasel. But he used to be human.”

Used to be? Blinking curiously, Seem tilted their head. “Go on?”

“Right, so… Daxter and I, we liked to do things. Explore. Play games. Avoid getting yelled at by my teacher. Old Log head.” He dismissively stated, and Seem made a note to explore those feelings. Complicated emotion made Dark Eco far more volatile. “But one place we couldn’t go was Misty Island.”

The home of the Lurkers? “I see. Why?”

“Well, at the time, it wasn’t safe. Lots of Lurkers, and they were angry, doing… stuff.” Jak waved a hand, and then continued walking. “So, naturally, I wanted to explore it. See why they were mad, attacking people. Lurkers were usually quiet, y’know?” He looked at them, and while Seem had no real experience with Lurkers aside from those in Haven, they nodded.

A set of keys were thrown, and Seem took them without blinking, a thumbs up given to Kleiver before he stopped the both of them. “Don’ break it, ifin’ ya need a tow call me on’na talk box, an I might ‘ave somethin’ for ya, greeny, when ya get back.”

“Right.” Jak nodded, as the both of them shuffled into the Dune Hopper. “Anyway, as I was say-ING!” He yelped as Seem stepped on the gas, taking them from Spargus’ gate with speed. “Rude.” He mumbled, rubbing his chest, before continuing. “Anyway, I accidentally knocked him into a vat of Dark Eco.”

Seem’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, but they didn’t interrupt. That Daxter was not spoken of in past tense was enough to get through that he was not dead, after all. But that it transformed him into a… weasel otter…

Hmm.

“And?”

“Well, I blamed myself for it. Cause I was the one that wanted to go. Even though we were both told not to go to the island, and Daxter was scared.” He finished, and they hummed, before clearing a gap.

One of the few on the way toward the temple.

Still, Jak was trying to empathize with them. “Thank you for the story. It does make me feel a bit better. That your friend survived being submerged in Dark Eco makes him likely the luckiest being in the world. He could have come out an Eco Mutant, or dead. Did he gain any affinity with Eco?”

“We never checked. Just wanted to fix it with Light Eco. Never ended up getting anymore, making it was hard.” Jak mumbled, and Seem nodded. There were very few Eco vents that channeled Light Eco. One being in or near this Sandover would have been unlikely.

From Boggy Swamp to what remained of Sentinel Beach, there were a large number of closed vents, yes, but none of them took Light or Dark Eco. Only the four primary colors.

“The temple may have some for your use, if you wish.” They offered, and Jak lit up with a smile. A real one, instead of that challenging smirk or befuddled grin he usually wore. “Last jump.”

He braced, thankfully, and the both of them landed hard, before Seem skidded the car to a stop in front of the primary alcove to the Temple. Unclasping their seatbelt, they jumped out and waited, Jak following after a moment. “Assist me in pushing this into the temple. Leaving it out will only attract Marauders. They are intelligent enough to not attack my monks, but not so much that they won’t steal our belongings.”

“Right.” He nodded, the both of them pushing it into the main foyer of the Temple. Their fellow monks quickly shut the door with a swift bow, and Seem sighed.

“Come, Jak. The seclusion room awaits our presence. There are many abilities Dark Eco grants, and you will need to be in control of yourself when using it.” They guided him through, even as Jak attempted to go and collect whatever caught his attention. Likely another Precursor Orb.

Foolish boy.

When he first met Seem, Jak expected them to be the same as Samos.

Rude, grumpy, and not willing to listen or let Jak do what he wanted if it was better.

But they actually listen to him. Actually take suggestions, testing some of the things he mentioned about Eco. Even let him play around with it if he was getting too bored.

They care. They care enough to actually help him deal with this. To deal with what the Dark Eco did to him. The abilities it gave him.

That… Dark form he was given. Dark Jak. Sounded kind of silly.

He grew horns. Actual, proper, horns.

And they didn’t even blink! Just gave him some Light Eco and told him it would lessen some of the worst effects.

And they were right too! He still had the horns, but he wasn’t as angry using the form from there on.

So… He decided to listen. Seem at least kind of understood. Kind of got where he was coming from.

They could use Dark Eco too. But it was like Gol, or Maia. Or, mostly Maia. No Eco pump on their wrist.

Similar getup too. And they helped him learn how to use Dark Eco safely. Or as safe as Dark Eco could be used.

Didn’t think he was crazy when he talked about Daxter being transformed by Dark Eco either. He never thought about Daxter being lucky to turn into an Ottsel when he fell in. Just blamed himself cause Daxter was transformed. But the idea of him coming out an Eco Mutant, or worse…

Or. Daxter being an Eco Mutant would probably be the worst outcome. But him being dead would also be pretty bad.

Still, there he was, standing in his Dark Form as he got used to just… existing. Letting the Dark Eco flowing out of the smoke infuse into his body.

It was easier now. His chest didn’t burn. He didn’t feel electricity burning through his body.

Being able to vent it all in that ‘Dark Eruption’ helped. Forced all of it out of his body in a bomb. It was cool.

He could also teleport short distances, as long as he could see it. It was neat. Super useful.

He didn’t think he’d achieve the same level of mastery over it that Seem had, or especially Maia. But maybe in a few years he might come close.

Still, Kleiver said he had something for Jak when he came back, and that made him curious. Damas said he’d try to find out about Keira and Daxter if he could, and he hadn’t interacted with Kleiver much since he came to Spargus. Just helped the guy fix up his car, shot the shit with him, and they ate together a few times.

He was kind of an asshole, but also a good mechanic.

So whatever he had for Jak probably had something to do with Keira. He hoped. If he was just given the keys for one of the buggies that’d be a bit of a letdown. Be nice, but not what he was expecting.

Breathing out, his Dark form slowly faded away, and when he opened his eyes, Seem nodded, a smile on their face. “Good. With practice you remove pain. You are doing well.”

He nodded, stepping out of the Dark Eco smoke and stretching, grinning as he felt the Eco suffuse in his body but stay away from the important stuff. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re helping me.”

“Of course. It is the Order’s job to assist Eco Sages. You count among that number, now. Don’t forget that.” They ordered, before turning. “Come. It is time to eat.”

A day of this, and then back to Spargus. He was actually kind of excited.

Weird.

Chapter Text

“We had a way of doing things, ey? A proper… understanding. See? Mizo and I would race, I would win, and everyone went home happy. So-”

“Listen, tons of fun. I stuffed a pipe bomb down your ‘friend’s’ windpipe then blew it up inside of him. If I cared what a rotting corpse had to say, let alone what Mizo’s rotting corpse had to say, I’d sooner decide to dig up the bodies of the Archeron siblings.” Kiera rolled her eyes at Krew’s threats, the crackly audio not really helping to cover her derision. “I understand you and him had ‘an understanding’ and I ‘understand’ that you want money. As I was unilaterally elected by killing everyone else, I’m going to inform you that your day’s over, and now it’s my turn to Rule. So. Let’s start talking terms. If you want money, I will gladly pay you to outfit my vehicles for your racing pleasure. I’ve heard you’re an artist…”

She trailed off, and could feel the rolls of fat blubbering across the connection. No holograms, only crackly, repaired talk boxes. Ugh. Her left arm for a decent workshop. “However.” She said, before he could regain his… well feet isn’t the correct word there. She’ll figure out a word later. “If you’d rather try to double cross me, not only is your daughter living in Kras City, but I also know several dozen Lurkers that would like to speak with you about their… how did you put it? More ‘freedomly challenged’ friends?”

She expected blustering. Anger. Maybe even bargaining.

Instead… “Heh. Heheheheh. Hahahahahah! Good! You have some actual steel in your bones!” Krew’s jowelly laughter echoed out from the talk box, as the man no doubt leaned back in his hover chair. “Mizo was such a bore, so focused on his pride that he stopped being entertaining. I have no doubt he’d concoct some stupid challenge if I passed before he did. Very well. I’ll send over some toys for your cars. Alongside the raw Eco you’ll need. I’ve a few shipments coming in. Payment can be transferred back along the usual byways, or if you wish you could have your men deliver it in person. I won’t deny that they might come back missing a few pieces.”

She blinked slowly, and then smiled. “Alright. Finally getting somewhere with someone that has half a brain. None of the underbosses could actually think, Mizo was useless… Oh, right. I need to find a new announcer.”

“Perhaps you might ask Rayn. She’s been needing something new after Praxis’ experiments dried up.”

“And it gives you a convenient agent with mob connections on my side to keep an eye on things.” Kiera’s smile shifted, becoming wry.

“Well, that’s just good business, Kiera. All these other new mongrels don’t understand that, ey? Too many focused on legbreaking and not using their minds. Not on the real prizes. So many goodies, just waiting to be found…” He trailed off, and then hummed. “Still, she’ll work for you willingly. And most likely will avoid poisoning your drink the first few months. She may not have my deft hand for weapon design, but when it comes to Eco, ey? Marvelous.”

Pulling out a spare Precursor Dowsing machine, she hummed. “Useful, at least. Better then the other idiots that call themselves ‘crime bosses’ down here. If it weren’t for the fact we’d be direct enemies I’d almost wish you still operated here.”

Krew laughed once again, before drinking something or other. “Oh yes, it’d be much more intriguing to match wits against you in person. For a given value, of course. Still, Haven is my haunting ground… Say, you were going to join the Haven cup, yes?”

“I was.” She nodded, and pulled out three drawings. Jak, Daxter, and… Dad. “Going to send a few of my best drivers. Get that Eco fuel to use over here. Make for more robust engines.”

“Provided they do not explode, you’d be looking at a large increase in speed.” Krew idly commented, and it was odd that she appreciated this. Not many of the people on the ground understood the work that went into building engines, let alone balancing all the pieces.

“I made my first Zoomer working out of my father’s hut, got my friend to drive it over a canyon of lava. I think I can keep them from exploding. At least until they’re destroyed by another contestant.” She finished her sentence, prompting another round of laughter from the other Crime Boss.

“I suppose they’d make for entertaining fireworks, if nothing else.” He chortled, and then let out a quiet sigh. “I look forward to destroying you. Make it fun, ey?”

“Likewise. Hopefully you die from your lifestyle before I get to you. It won’t be too pretty, otherwise.” She pointed her screwdriver at the speaker, even knowing he couldn’t see, and got a grunt of agreement despite that.

“Of course. Now, as for the matter of payment, I will send my usual rate. I’d offer a discount, but I’ve already given you a lot more then I usually offer. I will ask that you protect Rayn unless she gives you reason to remove that protection, however.” Krew shifted to business, and she pulled out another piece of paper, this one with Mizo’s signature.

“Let’s see…” She studied the paper, grimacing slightly but nodding. “Alright. Usual fair it is.”

“Good. I’ll send over those weapon schematics for you to go over at your leisure. Maybe you’ll have some recommendations, actually, on top of some ideas on how they’ll interact with the weapons systems. I look forward to doing business with you.” Krew chuckled, and then shifted. “A good rival is so rare these days.”

“Considering the quality of Kras City before I took over?” She blinked, and then nodded again. “You’re right. Sounds fun, Krew. May the best win.”

“Indeed.” He huffed, before the talk box clicked off, and she let out a sigh.

“I might actually miss him when he’s dead. That’s rare.” She stood up and rubbed her face, before taking a drink of that… Kwench Kola. Tasted worse than the cactus juice that Daxter made for her and Jak, but it sure woke her up. “Guegh.” She shivered.

Tasted like old Blue Sage’s Eco machines smelled. Rubbing her eyes, she shucked off her jacket and stared at the drawings of Jak, Daxter, and… Father. And she sighed. “There’s no way you two are dead. Rayn talked about a green haired Dark Warrior, that had to be Jak. Nothing about Daxter, but you’ve avoided dying to worse then just Haven City. Just hope you’ve handled four years well… Hope Dad had time to think about just dumping us Precursors knew where with some stupid feel good phrase about ‘finding yourself’ to Jak. If he didn’t…”

She didn’t know what she’d do to her father. Yell at him. Maybe slap him. Maybe even hit him with his log. Either way, she was furious.

Still, for now she had business to attend to. Tapping her talk box, she called Razor. One of the few of Mizo’s men she didn’t kill in her hostile takeover. “Razer.”

“Boss lady.”

“Go grab that Eco scientist. Rayn. Do it gentle like. But bring her here.”

“Right-o.”

Hearing it click off, she let out a happy sigh. Good henchmen were rare, but well worth their weight in Eco. And Power Cells.

… It was weird that Kras City had almost the same amount of Power Cells that the Gate holding the Rift Racer needed. They were missing about twenty or so, but it was still odd.

Shaking her head, she put Jak, Daxter, and dad’s picture back into her desk, and pulled out another picture. This one of a place called Spargus. They had cars there too. Buggies, mostly, but some of them were interesting enough. She was also interested in the mechanisms behind that Dune Hopper.

Could make some interesting races by adding a few pits, and a vertical element. Be fun. All she needed was an audience with their King.

Not difficult to do. Man was reasonable enough. His wife, if she understood right, was also one of the primary ship runners that went between Kras, Spargus, and several other communities.

Even went to a place called Dread Swamp. How she managed to park a boat in a swamp, Kiera didn’t know. But it was definitely interesting.

She paused, and then pulled out her pistol before firing through the wall. Once. Twice. Three times.

The panel fell out, showing her would-be assassin. Not one of hers looking for a power play. Krew… no. His wouldn’t be so stupid to be heard. Probably one of the other remnants. Or maybe even a useless bootlegger from Haven looking to try and cash in.

Maybe even a Marauder. She paused, before looking at him. The lack of armor. Spikes. She snorted, shaking her head. No. The regalia… Flipping him over, she tilted her head at the emblem on his chest, a purple vulture before a blazing sun. 

“Huh… an Aeropan Navy officer.” She can’t think of a reason for them to target her specifically… Hmm. This would likely be a diversion then?

Aeropa’s engineering was fascinating, of course. Well documented flying machines. Their Behemoth flagship was fantastic. Reaching into the dead assassin’s pocket, she searched for anything that might have been used to contact an evacuation, her hand eventually coming back with a beacon.

Interesting.

A knock on her door. “Enter.” She stated, keeping a hand on her gun, and then relaxing when Razer walked in with Rayn. “Razer.”

“Boss lady.” He nodded, guiding Rayn in as well before noticing the corpse. “Assassin?”

“Not sure. Maybe just a feeler.” She mumbled, and then shook her head. “Anyway. Miss Rayn. I’ve just had a chat with your father, and I have a job offer for you.”

The woman opened her mouth, likely to try and feed her some bullshit story, before studying the room… and shifting entirely. The frail persona she had before giving way to someone with steel in their spine. Better. “What?”

“Well, the job is two fold. I hear you’re a deft hand with Eco. I’d like your expertise. Secondly, I need a new Host for the Kras City games.” She stated, and then stood to her full height as Razer dealt with the body. “Interested?”

Rayn frowned, grit her teeth, and then let out a sigh. “Where do I sign?”

Perfect.

“No no! Cease your foolish attempts! You are over-charging this one with Eco! You guide it! You do not force it!”

The wizened figure slammed his cane against the younger scientists’ hand before lowering the output of the Eco, their test subject quickly relaxing as the liquid flowed through their body. “Small steps, Skyheed. Rushing gives you nothing but dead men and Lurkers.”

Duke Skyheed rubbed his knuckles, and then sighed. “I just want the procedures to finish. The Metal Heads are getting agitated, more so then we predicted. Something has rattled them, and we need soldiers.”

“Believe me. I understand.” The wizened figure stated, dragging his finger across their subject’s collar bone and redirecting some of the Dark Eco. “Tym, bring that over here.”

“You got it, Gol.” Tym grinned, dragging over a gauntlet with a reflective mirror on it. With a bit of assistance from Skyheed, they mounted it on the subject’s arm. “With this, they should be able to fling out Eco like those bastard Metal Head snipers too.”

“If only my sister were here.” Gol sighed, even as he connected the gauntlet properly to their new Dark Soldier. “She’d have so much perspective that I just don’t. She always enjoyed the more sorcerous aspects of Eco. I’ve always been more mechanically inclined.”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why we found ya with spiky cannonballs taped to your waist.” Tym teased him good-naturedly, causing Gol to wave his staff before the three of them went back to work.

“Silence yourself, Tym. You may be a well trained sage, but I could still school you in the art if I had a mind to!” Gol shouted, before readjusting his jaw. “If you must know, I had difficulties controlling my levitation. If I stopped focusing, I would go too high. It made rest difficult.”

“I’m just glad we have such a reservoir of knowledge working with us.” Skyheed sighed as they began the armoring process of the first true success case of the Dark Warrior project. “Without you, we’d likely be flailing in the dark.”

“Your praise is noted, and appreciated, young Skyheed.” Gol smiled, before he cracked his shoulders and stared at their new warrior. “We will need to monitor their temperament. There would be no point in having feral warriors that could do nothing but run at an enemy and die. The experiments my sister and I concluded taught us that we could create Lurkers charged with other forms of Eco, so perhaps we should start on that? At the very least, Red would make them stronger…”

“Maybe we experiment with Blue, make ‘em faster?” Tym offered. Finally, Skyheed hummed.

“Maybe Yellow. When we have time, we’ll test with all three. For now, we need to acclimate our new soldier to his gifts.”

“Of course.” Gol nodded, and once more wondered just how lucky he could be. An entire flying citadel to keep him safe, and all the Eco experiments he could ever want to do.

The only way it could be better were if Maia were beside him. She’d likely find Tym to be entertaining at the very least. The man was a decently trained Dark Eco Sage, after all.

Where in the world was she?

Chapter Text

“Remember, Jak. If you feel the need to surrender, this Beacon will remove you from it.” Damas commented, and Jak nodded as he held the Waster Beacon that Seem handed him. “Seem has said that you are controlled while channeling Dark Eco, but that is while in a quiet, safe environment. To be part of Spargus’ Wastelanders is to be a warrior. To be the spear that provides for Spargus. Today, you shall face Metal Heads.”

Jak frowned, and remembered the monsters that attacked Sandover. He could feel that anger bubbling away in his chest, and did his best to run through those meditations Seem taught him. “Right.”

“Here.” Jak was thrown a gun, and quickly took it. “If you are to fight in the Arena, you will require a weapon. This is the Scattergun. It is a humble weapon, but do not doubt its effectiveness. It shall serve you well.”

Nodding, Jak stepped onto the elevator. “Point and shoot. Simple.”

“Let us hope so.” Damas commented. “Provided you do not damage yourself, as well.”

“Right. Thank you.” He said, before turning and pumping the gun. The click was… satisfying. This was gonna be fun.

“People of Spargus.” He heard as the platform descended, and he felt the heat of the lava. “Today, another shall join our Wastelanders. Haven has discarded him, damaged him. Changed him. We shall see if he is fit to call one of our Spears. Go now, into the Arena.”

Nodding, he jumped off, and watched the platform go into the Lava. Which… he didn’t think metal could do that. Was it precursor metal? He killed that one giant Lurker that had precursor metal in front of him.

Shaking his head, he knocked himself out of his distraction. He was about to be fighting. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

The shacks buckled, and slammed. And he supposed the Metal Heads were aggressive. Obviously.

When the first doors opened, it was easy enough to kill them. They were fast, but provided he kicked, or punched, and then shot, they’d go down very easily.

It got a bit harder when the annoying spinning ones nearly cut open his legs. But the Scattergun felt purpose built for killing them.

Killing a lot of them, as a matter of fact. He supposed that was why it fired in a cone.

Still, as the heat settled around him, the Metalheads grew stronger, and he absorbed more, and More Dark Eco, he felt something shift.

It was… easier. A lot easier. To fight. He was moving faster, dark acting as blue, or green, or even yellow if he needed it. Barely, but a few of the Metalheads stayed away from the Scattergun’s range.

They were smart. He was smarter.

It sunk into a pattern, the killing, the Metal Heads dying and dropping their skull gems, and eco, and ammo.

Spin, punch, shoot. Jump, dive, shoot. Pattern, after pattern, after pattern.

He felt more focused when one of the big ones actually managed to punch him, sending him skidding. It roared, probably thinking that was enough to put him down, but he just wiped the blood off the side of his mouth and grinned before dropping its legs out from under it, stuffing his gun into its mouth, and shooting.

It became easier after that. Some of the bigger ones realized they were the easy targets, compared to the spinners, or the ones with their own guns.

He could taste their fear. And it was fantastic.

“Let me show you the Sandover Special.” He said with a grin as his body shifted, and the dark came roaring to the surface as he vented his fury for his now gone home on those responsible, even if only distantly.

His claws made it easier to kill them, long sweeping cuts carving through their bodies, Dark Eco arcing between them and killing more. Keeping the Beast fed was even easier than standing under the censer, mote after mote flowing into his body, making him stronger, faster, and so much more eager to exact punishment on these monsters.

They were afraid. Some of them refused to leave their little hovels, until he jumped upon them and forced them to run out into the Arena. Couldn’t leave one to hide away, after all. His lessons told him that even just one Metal Head could establish a new nest if they escaped.

Irritating. Worse than any Lurker could be. So he drove them from their hideaways, and into the Arena.

His claws made it harder to use the Scattergun. He couldn’t get it through the trigger without modifying the trigger guard or whatever. So he didn’t bother.

And as the last few Metal Heads remained in the Arena, he jumped, and brought the Storm.

Their cries were a sweet relief to the anger. And he let out a small breath as he shifted back and leaned on his gun, waiting for the platform to cool off before he got back on it.

“Seem.” Damas’ voice, low as it was, sounded almost flabbergasted as all of them observed Jak tear through the Arena. “Is that normal for Dark Eco use?”

“When used properly, it will change the user. Darken their skin. Whiten their hair. Some will even grow horns, as Jak had.” Seem said, trying to show that they were calm, and not incredibly rattled. “But it is not a combat stimulant.”

“Ah. So this was unexpected.” Damas commented, watching the boy, man now as he’d more than earned his place in Spargus, as he worked out his rage on the monsters that likely plagued his nightmares. “I see.”

“He has control normally. Even when agitated. I assume that they bring his worse emotions to the surface.” Seem commented as Olrun shifted with a hum.

“Some of those attacks he was using were from other Eco forms.” The medic commented, and Seem blinked. “I very clearly recognized the standard Yellow ‘range’ attack being fired out, even if it was a mixture of Yellow and Dark.”

“Hmm. So the lightning could very easily be him recreating Blue eco as well. Which would explain the speed increase.” Damas added, and Seem frowned. Jak had mentioned that he could split the eco types from Dark Eco itself. Which… shouldn’t actually be possible. Dark was the absence of other colors, from what they were aware. Light was the mixture.

Perhaps he was refining it? Or something of the sort.

“What about the aggression?” Premor asked, and Olrun, Damas, and themself all shook their head.

“Red.” They said in unison.

Red very much was the well of aggression of the Eco types.

Still, the reaction Jak had to the Metal Heads was concerning. They hoped it didn’t balloon into something worrying.

“Damas. I believe you have an announcement to make.” Durak said, shifting his staff. “Look forward to having him work with us, provided he knows not to go at our boys.”

“He is in control. Metal Heads destroyed his home.” Damas said, before pushing himself to his feet as Jak finally ended his attack on the Metal creatures, and then transformed back. Controlled. Good. “As you can see, the things Haven have done to our new member are cruel things. But, through careful work, he has turned this shame into a powerful gift. Spargus gains a new Spear today!”

The crowd, always there, making noise, were banished of uncertainty as Jak turned and pointed his fist up at him, and Damas mimicked the action, pointing his down. Good. Still himself. The platform rose, precursor metal unaffected by the heat, and after a few moments Jak climbed upon it, and ascended to rejoin them.

“Young man.” Damas began, smiling at him. “Congratulations are in order. You use your Scattergun well.”

“It’s the same as Red Eco. Just gotta point it at whatever I’m fighting.” Jak grinned up at him, and Damas nodded.

“This is true. Still, here.” Damas held the Wastelander’s Scout Necklace for Jak to take, and he gingerly held it. “This is your first Wastelander piece. With all three, you will truly be one of ours. For now, we shall have you work. There are some artifacts that need to be claimed before a sandstorm blows in.”

Surprisingly, Jak looked excited as he jumped up to join them. “Does that mean I get to use one of the buggies?”

Snorting, Damas slapped an extra pair of keys to the Tough Puppy into the boy’s hand. “Go. And you did well.”

“Thanks, Damas!” Jak whooped as he rushed off, and Damas was left there with his council, and with Seem.

None of whom knew what to say to any of that.

“Like a switch was flipped. He’s a completely different person to the beast we saw in the Arena.” Premor commented, and Damas nodded.

“Jak is a kind man. But every kind man has skeletons haunting them.” Olrun added, and Damas heard Seem hum an agreement.

Still, “We have work. Let us make haste.” Damas ordered, turning on his heel and exiting the Arena.

A new Spear, ready to defend Spargus. Definitely a good omen.

“I hope giving Jak his own keys was not a mistake.” Damas couldn’t help himself from saying.

Seem’s laughter was not comforting.

“Well, ya managed ta get’em all. Well done, runt.” Kleivor said as Jak slid back into the gate with the sand storm hounding his wheels. “How’s it feel?”

“Feels good.” Jak grinned as he panted in the seat, tiny as it was, before clambering out of the Tough Puppy. “Fun as hell to drive the thing myself, actually.”

“Hah. Sound like I did when I got my first buggy.” Kleivor said, but he couldn’t fault the kid. Driving your first car was definitely an experience. “Marauders give ya trouble?”

“Nah, nothing too bad.” He said, hopping out of the car and detaching the magnetized bag at the back. “What’s this for, anyway?”

“Spare parts, trades. Anythin’ really.” Kleivor shrugged, walking over and taking the bag, giving it a shake for good measure. “Hefty. Ya picked’em all up first try, ah?”

“All the blips on my map.” Jak nodded, and Kleivor hummed. Good. A scout worth his salt.

“Alright then. Help me wheel the buggy back to’er place.” Kleivor ordered, taking one side and humming when Jak took the other.

Tough Puppy weren’t too heavy, but was better to have two hands for the delicate work.

“Got a picture’o ya friend, by the way. Y’sure ya know’er? She’s a bit older then ya.” He commented, and Jak frowned. Probably wondering if he’d got the right lady friend.

Eh. Kid probably missed his first love. Nothin’ta be ashamed over.

“I’ll need to have a look.” Kid said, and that made sense to him.

“Fair’e’nuff.” Kleivor hummed, and then walked over to his workstation, before picking up the photos. “Got a coupl’of’em, cause Damas asked. Let us know if it’s her, an I’ll try ta get a message over. Lady’s got a twitchy trigger finger, though, be warned.”

Jak hummed, before taking the pictures and leaning against his desk to flip through them.

He was quiet. Kleivor wondered if he should ask or not.

Argh, buggering hell. “Kid?”

“She’s older than she was when we got separated. Older than me now. S’weird.” Jak said, and Kleivor blinked.

Huh. “Musta been some real fancy Precursor crap you was usin’.” He said back.

“It was called a Rift Gate. Not a Warp Gate. Warp Gates were easy, take you wherever you need to go. We had… Five. Back home.” Kleivor’d say something, but the kid was building to a point, so he just folded his arms. “Rift Gate… We needed a hundred power cells just to get the stupid thing open.”

“Damn… Anything else?”

“Yeah… the Sages had to find the Map. It had to lock onto coordinates specifically. They came pre-set or something, cause we never touched them.” The kid continued, and Kleivor got a sour taste in his mouth.

“That don’t sound like somethin’ ya shoulda left alone.”

“Yeah, but Samos didn’t want any of us touching it. Even Keira. And we needed this red ruby thing, Samos called it the Heart. Looked like a necklace pendant, or something. Size of my fist though. I punched it, that woke up the map, and then I had to hit it again so we’d go through the gate in the first place. When that thing came through, screaming about how he’d finally found ‘you’. Whoever ‘you’ was. Knowing my luck, probably me.” Kid rubbed his eyes, and Kleivor blew out a sigh.

“That’s rough, kid.” He said, patting the kid’s shoulder, and Jak nodded, before he quickly shook his head.

“Not something I can fix, yet. So, no reason to be sad about it. Just gotta be mad about it whenever I kill Metal Heads.”

“Sounds healthy enough.” Kleivor shrugged, and then pulled out his communicator. “Ya still wan’ta call’er?”

“Yeah. Yeah I do.” Kid nodded, and Kleivor shrugged and punched in the number.

His lunch break was in two minutes anyway, so he was gonna go get some Miconuts. Maybe some salted Leaper tongue to go with it.

“Have fun, kid. Try not ta get yer hopes up.” He said, before brushing past the kid and leaving his communicator.

Kiahara was sending out feelers anyway, and preferred person to person communication.

Hopefully now the kid weren’t mute he could handle that.

Weren’t Kleivor’s problem if he couldn’t.

… That Sandover Special sure sounded nasty. He couldn’t help rubbing his mouth at the thought of a pipe or a Scattergun shoved down his throat. Nasty work. Sounded fun though.

He’d need to keep it in mind next time those upjumped punks tried ta shiv him as a ‘hullo’.

Chapter Text

“Maia.” Sig flatly said, staring at the burning building. The very pointedly, purple flamed, burning building. Of some Governor or another.

“Yes, Sig?” Maia asked curiously, hands billowing with the same purple flame. Her Eco Powers had come back something fierce, and he’d admit he was a bit more nervous about his chances if it came down to it now.

He expected her to be green. Not a fully realized Sorceress. Spose that was his own fault for not listening when he thought she was blowing smoke up herself.

“The job was just to free the Lurkers.” He hummed, voice low. The guard had swooped in, but no one was being attacked just for looking. Surprisingly rare for Haven, but he supposed the ‘nice’ side of town got a few perks.

His eyes moved, spying a set of keys near a drainage grate. Picking them up, he frowned at the weird orange rat on it, before blinking. These might’ve been that kid’s keys. Pocketing them, he shook his head and turned back to his partner. “ Just. To free them.”

“I am aware. This was pleasure, not business.” She said back, not seeming to get why he was bothered at all. More focused on one of the few Lurkers that they hadn’t gotten to a safe house. One of the house ‘staff’ probably.

He tried not to think about the fact that the Lurker was comfortable enough near her to not be afraid of the flames, as she quickly clenched a fist before the guard could see.

Well… at least she had something she cared about. In fact, she looked downright joyous when she was looking at the Lurker in his fitted suit.

“Surprised you care.” He commented, not really meaning anything cruel by it. Maia took to bounties with a bent he’d call almost cruel. Metalheads and people both were dealt with violently, and she smiled while doing it. “Most people don’t even think of Lurkers as people.”

“Babaks are as intelligent as any other being designed by the Precursors.” Maia commented as they turned, moving through the crowd. The few lurkers that stayed with them lumbering forward and managing to sink into the crowd without anyone really paying attention. Interesting.

He also didn’t know that the ‘normal’ Lurker was called a Babak.

“And… They used to be the danger of these lands. The one of many that the feeble minded fools would cower from, or attempt to face. Designed as soldiers, animals, to become their own ecosystem…” She trailed off, and then shook her head. “Seeing Babaks without any nearby Badababak overseer is strange. Seeing Babaks cower, is abhorrent. They were bred to be fierce, not fearful.”

She talked like she made them. Or maybe her ancestors did. Still, he could understand. He’d seen ‘domestic’ Leapers, captured in the Desert before and dragged back to Haven. Poor things looked like they wanted to curl up and die.

He supposed with Lurkers it’d be worse. Considering that these ‘Babaks’ were bred to be soldiers. Seeing them reduced to servants and slaves probably rankled something fierce.

“Babaks first to fight Hora-quan.” One of them quietly spoke, and Sig looked at it. Him. Maia also looked, and then hummed. “Fierce. We fight, drag down many. Many more come. Cut open Babaks, take Eco. Monsters.”

Seeing a Lurker shiver was… damn. And if they were the first to fight…

“Three hundred years on, s’pose people don’t remember that.” Sig commented, and saw Maia’s grip on her gunstaff tighten.

“Green Lurkers, made from Silo, first to fall. Strong.” The Lurker continued, and then sighed. “Killed thousands. But thousands more came. Took eco. Laid eggs. Pushed us. We fight. We fight long. But humans stop helping. Leave us. We have to run, find caves. Caves new home, now. Misty Island long gone. Citadel gone.”

“Hush, Babak.” Maia gently said, and the Lurker nodded. “I will need to focus to grant one of you the strength of a Badababak, and that cannot be done in the streets of this place.”

He supposed that’d be some mighty strong Sorcery stuff.

“I’ll need to gather the amounts needed. The sheer lack of green in these parts means it will take time.” Maia commented, and then sighed. “Go to your homes. I will find you when it is time.”

“Thank you, Lady of Dark.” The Babak bowed. “Brottor will remember you.”

With that, Brottor and the others all slinked off into the streets, practically vanishing from sight with greater ease than Sig would've thought possible.

He guessed that was why people round Haven parts paid so much for info about them. Spooky stuff. Still, he turned, feeling eyes on him, and then blinked. Torn.

Torn, in a cloak, wearing his respirator. Meaning he got here was fast as he could.

“Looks like we’ve got a new job, Maia.” Sig quietly said, and when she looked at him, he drew her attention to Torn.

She clicked her tongue. “Very well. If it’s more of that bounty hunting, I’m going to be disappointed.” She commented as they stepped into the alley, and followed Torn to his three seater.

Fool man parked three streets away. Bazaar’s tight, but not that tight.

Probably got nervous about the Guards slinking around too. He understood, considering the on fire manor they left behind. But Sig also understood that he himself didn’t need no respirator, and that Torn did.

The drive is in silence, the few Guards along the way not blinking at them going by. Probably on account of the fact that Krew likely asked for an exemption for himself.

Not like the KG ever gave him trouble for trophy hunting. He supposed that was a silver lining.

The hole in the wall they had was quiet. Dusty. If it weren’t for all the obvious duct tape work and patch jobs, he’d think it was left to rot.

But the rot came pre-packaged, instead of being because of negligence.

“I made the trip cause of yer friend.” Torn rasped, and then coughed for a moment, clearing his throat. “Sorry. The Baron’s shut off water to the Slums, and the Water Slums. Throat’s dry.”

Sig tapped the Peace Maker on his shoulder, and Maia hummed, staring at the pipe running through the room. “What’s the job?” He led, and Torn nodded.

“Should be obvious.” Torn huffed, before repeating himself. “Baron’s shut off the water. People are dead, dying, or going to die. Guards are parked outside in the Pumping Station, Metal Heads aren’t keeping them back, and none of the men I have would be able to get the job done. I need you to go out, turn the water on, and make it stick.” The man cut his hand, and coughed again.

Taking a bit of pity, because water was your life in the desert, Sig held out a water skin. Rather then take it, Torn shook his head. “I’ll survive another two days. People need help now. I can’t pay you in cash, but I can pay you in other things. Info, the spare eco we have. A few jobs for cash, this time.”

“I’ll assume once the water’s running is when you get payment.” Maia commented, and then nodded. “We’ll do it, assuming you don’t have a problem, Sig?”

She looked at him, but he shook his head. Water was life blood wherever you went, he wasn’t going to refuse to help them.

Havenites they may be, but they don’t deserve that.

“There’s something in the area I wish to investigate. It costs me nothing to get this out of the way. However…” Maia trailed off, looking thoughtful. “How would we prevent them from turning off the pumps once we’ve left?”

“I’ve got that covered.” Sig said, seeing the small relief in Torn’s eyes as he did. “Got an old trick I picked up that’ll let me keep it running.”

“Well. Let us make haste, then. People are dying, after all.” Maia commented, and Sig was once again thrown by just how little of a read he could get on her.

Still, he knew a few types like that. Made it something he could just ignore, for now.

Blowing out a sigh as she sunk down against her door, Keira let out a helpless chuckle.

She’d found Jak. He was out in Spargus.

He’d been shot full of so much Dark Eco that his skin went pale sometimes, like the Archerons, but he was alive.

And separated from Daxter.

Which she can handle. She can get her boys back. Easy.

Spargus first though. Dealing with Wastelanders was easy unless they’re Marauders. In which case  it’s shoot first, take what they have, and book it.

Daxter was probably in Haven, and… Haven was different.

And not because she’d likely have to kill a few people once she gets there. Kiera’s made peace with having to kill to survive.

No, there’s a Web of conflict being woven around Haven. The kind that people in Kras City were scared of in case it spilled beyond Haven’s iron walls.

Krew, Praxis, The Shadow, and The Metal Head Leader. Precursors knew who else. All vying for that awful city.

And the Aeropans… she had no idea what they were doing. Something. Metal Heads were probably gigantic, out those ways.

Maybe they were just looking for help, or safe ports. She doubted it, but it could be possible.

So many things, and it seemed like, once again, Daxter was stuck in the middle of it. Only this time, without Jak to keep him safe.

Because Jak was in a completely different city, and had no idea where he was.

She really hoped he’d figured out how to keep his head above water in the four years they’d been-

No. Jak said it was only two for him.

Jak and Daxter probably landed together, she hoped or she’d be having WORDS with her father, so they’d likely have only been stuck in Haven for two.

She didn’t know how to feel about being at least a year older then Jak now. Two years?

She was a year younger then him when the whole thing with the Acherons started…

Bah, she’d think about it when she was actually able to see whether he was safe after the crap that Haven pumped him full of.

Probably figure out who did that to him as well, give them a free pump of eco. Courtesy of her pistol, sitting heavy on her waist.

But, another important thing, was that she needed an audience with the King of Spargus now, to see one of her boys.

And Precursors’ be damned if she was going to let some King-of-the-Wasteland-Fuck hardball her with Jak.

Standing up, she shot a look at Razer, who was thankfully smart enough to not try and say anything, the entire time she was speaking with Jak. “I need three cars kitted for the Wasteland combat, by tomorrow.”

“You got it.” Razer nodded, before he walked to the door. “Anything else?”

“Grab someone you can trust but aren’t afraid to put down if needed.” She flatly said, and the man nodded.

“Alright. And, boss?” She raised an eyebrow at him when he looked over his shoulder with a smile. “You looked younger, and a hell of a lot happier while you were talking to him.”

He left with that, smart enough to know if he stuck around he was getting a bullet in his ass, and left Keira alone.

She still shot the door, and heard him scrambling away at least. Can’t let Razer get the last word, or him, or some other plucky asshole, might start thinking they were smart again.

Still, now she was left with a talk box, and a number. Rubbing her face, she nodded, and she called up Tala.

“If you’re calling me, it better be important kid.”

“Hey Tala.” She quietly said, smiling softly. “I need a hand getting an audience with your husband. He’s found my friend, and you know I can’t just show up in Spargus.”

Tala was silent, probably swishing her drink while holding it by the neck, before she hummed. “Haven’t gone home in… about a few years now? Fine. I’ll call him up. Ferry you and your idiots over, and you’ll have me riding shotgun.”

“Thanks, Tala. And, thank you for everything.” She quietly said, getting a grunt before the woman hung up.

She supposed running into the woman, just after she’d lost her son, was luck. She owed the woman a debt that she doubted would ever get paid.

But she could try, at least. Kras City was just one step on that goal.

“Forty spare power cells, one I marked with Klaww’s armor. What mess did dad get us into?” She quietly commented, before pushing herself up.

She hoped she wouldn’t have to shoot him. But if she found out he went into this, knowingly, and that he knew they’d get trapped here?

… She was gonna shoot him. She might not kill him, maybe, but she was going to shoot him.

Be the least he deserved.

Chapter Text

“When I was asked to get my ass up here, I’d’a thought it’d at least be dry.” Daxter hissed from the top of the Palace, ignoring the chill that his fur thankfully insulated him from. “All this to see- hello there?”

His attention was immediately brought to the Baron himself, angrily ranting at that toothpick looking asshole on the other side of his table. And then picking up the toothpick looking asshole by his neck. “YOU ARE THE CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD! WHEN I LEAVE YOU TO WATCH THE CITY, I EXPECT YOU TO DO YOUR JOB, BUT IT SEEMS YOU ARE UNABLE TO EVEN RE-CAPTURE A FEW LURKERS!”

“S-Sir-!” The captain tried to gurgle out, but Daxter’s eyebrows rose to his forehead as he watched the Baron slam the man through his table, cutting off his words entirely.

“I REFUSE TO HEAR ANY FURTHER EXCUSES!” Praxis roared, before almost negligently throwing two cubes of green eco at the captain. “Pick yourself up, and do not fail me again! Or else.”

“Sheesh.” He mumbled. “Guy musta been real pissed. That was a nice lookin’ table too. Looks like the old trees ‘round Sandover.”

Shivering as he flicked the water off of his body, Daxter frowned as he did his best to memorize everything the Baron was working on from his position above. The camera that Tess gave him wasn’t a flash camera, so he wasn’t completely screwed if they looked up, but he’d need to be real quick to move if the Baron stopped pacing angrily.

Probably while he resisted the urge to murder his guard captain, too. Then again, that toothpick was the guy that picked up Jak.

So fuck him.

Shifting his goggles, he leaned forward to get as much recorded as he could, before he twitched back when he felt a water droplet hit the inside of his nose, quickly rushing off the glass and back to the platform hell he had to run through to get over here, covering his mouth before he let off a titanic sneeze.

Blowing out a breath, he clicked his tongue when no sneeze manifested, and shook his head. That was gonna bother him all night.

Still, jumping back up, he leaned over, before clicking his tongue. Baron was gone.

Damn.

Hopefully the intel he picked up was-hello there, who was that?

Red haired, fairly pretty lady, nothing on Tess though, looking around like she owned the place?

Who was that?

Did Praxis have a kid? She wasn’t head of the Guard, that was the other idiot. Rubbing his chin, he frowned, before shaking his head.

He got the info, now he needed to get down without being spotted.

Although, if he was spotted, he just needed to rush off like an animal and they probably wouldn’t shoot him. Probably just think he was like a Lightning Mole or something.

Blinking, he quickly ducked into an alcove, and thanked his lucky stars that he did, because apparently the Baron had a flying suit that he decided to rock around in. Crazy asshole.

But, after a few moments of whatever he was looking for not manifesting, the man slammed a fist into the console of the thing and floated off, so Daxter counted that as a victory.

Now he just needed to get back to Tess, and then the two of them could share the info with Torn, who’d then share it with whoever the hell else needed to know it.

Apparently he had some Wastelanders on a job to fix up the pumping station, which was nice to hear.

Hopefully the Precursor eggs he picked up would help Tess get what she needed. Stupid things were apparently priceless now, even though they weren’t worth dirt back home. A hundred orbs for just one crummy power cell…

As he loaded onto the elevator, he let out a sigh even as it plummeted, ignoring the feeling in his stomach as he held on and tried not to get blown off. And as he trotted out, his escape route was home free!

“An animal?” Fuck! Feeling himself get picked up, Daxter let himself go limp and blinked slowly, acting dumb. “How did an animal get on the service elevator? Wasn’t it meant to be powered off?” The red haired lady said to herself, before shaking her head and walking outside, where Daxter found himself unceremoniously dumped onto one of the topiary bushes beside the stinkin’ place. “Probably someone’s pet. Whoever dressed them up should be more responsible.”

He waited there for her to leave, and let out a sigh of relief when she finally closed the door. “That was too close.” He mumbled, before quickly jumping on a discarded Zoomer and kicking the side panel, grinning when the keys fell out. “Alright, Tess baby, let’s work some magic!”

“Oh, great.” Torn rasped, seeing Daxter saunter up like he was worth a million precursor orbs. “The rat’s back.”

“Be nice, Torn.” Tess gently reprimanded, but Daxter just shook his head.

“It’s our thing. He calls me some kinda rat, I say how he looks like Death went to a beauty parlor and came out uglier.” Daxter grinned, and Torn sucked in a breath because that… that was actually good. “I’m still tryna think of a good one, by the way. Somethin’ ta do with hatefuckin’ an acado, I’ll letcha know how it goes.”

“Great.” Torn rolled his eyes, because otherwise Daxter might think he liked the little bastard. Still, as he handed out water to one of the many people of the water slums, he clicked his tongue. “So?”

“Got in, nearly got caught at the end, saw the Baron nearly kill his Guard captain.” Daxter hummed as he jumped onto the table. His volume was low, even with most of the KG wisely steering clear of the very dehydrated people of the slums making their way along. Probably knew what’d happen if they tried. “Turns out, Praxis has a kid. She’s the one that nearly caught me, but she chucked me on a topiary instead’a actually questionin’ why a rat came out of an express elevator that shoulda been down’n out.”

Torn looked at Daxter, and hummed. So he met Ashelin, and she didn’t figure out who he was. Convenient. Might’ve been a bad idea to not mention him, but Ashelin still trusted her father.

Unfortunately.

“Hmm.” He hummed instead, handing out a few bottles. He did his best to let the well wishes pass over him, and then sighed. “If ya came all this way, it must be important. So, what is it?”

“Found a few things, took videos and stuff.” Daxter hummed, letting a few of the kids touch his fur even if the rat didn’t like it. “Pretty sure Praxis mentioned a few things he shouldn’t’a been doin’ with a few people he shouldn’t’a known. Stuff like that.”

So the rat could watch his tongue. Irritating, yet that made sense. Useful too. “Right. I’m going to be here until someone takes over for me, you know.”

“I figured.” Daxter nodded, and he turned and watched as Tess actually started weaving through the crowd, handing out bottles one after the other. “I can wait. It’s not urgent, and it aint… aint anything about Jak, either.”

Not a great sign. Still… “Anything about him being dead?”

“Nah.” Daxter shook his head. “Praxis mentioned some escaped Lurkers, no idea what happened there. That have anything to do with that fire in the hoity toity sector? Thought my apartment might’a burnt down.”

“It was.” Torn nodded. “We picked up new recruits. Wastelanders. Or, one of them is. The other was that Eco Witch I mentioned two weeks back.”

“Oh, fancy. What’d you do to get them to work for you?” Daxter asked, and Torn hummed. Actually intelligent conversation. Daxter was either bored, or this intel was important. “Blackmail? Info?”

“Eco, information, and asking nicely.” He huffed, before sipping at his own water bottle. Helped soothe the burn in his throat. “Goes a long way, surprisingly. Who knew?”

“Usually for me’n Jak, askin’ nicely had assholes ask us for a hundred precursor orbs, or to fight some giant monster.” Daxter groused, and Torn blinked in surprise.

A hundred precursor orbs could feed the city for a week. For that to be a request or expectation… Maybe there was some merit to why Daxter was an asshole to everyone he met.

Torn’d certainly refuse to be a ray of sunshine if he was exploited that way again.

“Rough.” He said instead, before blinking when he saw his relief, a few other members making their way up, and he nodded. “Alright. I got time to talk.”

“Great.” Daxter grinned as Tess picked him up, the three of them stepping back and turning around. “Lemme tell ya, it’s a real doozy.”

“I can guess.” Torn sighed as they slipped down through the backstreets and into the Hideout.

The three of them milled around, Torn brewing a mildly better tasting cup now that the water was firmly on, Daxter stretching on the main table, and Tess just taking a seat on one of the bunks, but when Torn offered a cup the both of them shook their heads.

Fair enough. More for him, and that meant he didn’t need to skimp on the Green Eco. Helped his throat feel better.

Dropping down, he breathed out through his nose, and then pointed at Daxter. “So. You got up there? Service elevator’s working now?”

“Working like a charm, yeah.” Daxter nodded, scratching his neck. “Glad you got me some guys to help rescue Vin, though, or I’da been fucked. And he nearly armed a bunch’a bombs too, had to get that explosives guy to keep them away from him.”

“Vin’s like that.” Torn softly said, defending his longtime friend. “His family’s got Blue Eco in their veins, so they’re more jittery than others.”

“Like ol’ Blue Sage.” Daxter nodded, and then frowned. “Still wanna sock the lights outta ol’ Green though, asshole that he is. ‘Oh find yourself Jak’ like the fuck does that even mean? No mention’a me, typical.”

“Focus.” Torn said, while filing that away for later. “What’d you see up there?”

“Well, I saw Praxis piledrive that toothpick prick that picked up Jak through his very nice table.” Daxter said almost offhandedly, and Torn blinked in surprise. Praxis musta’ been pissed. “Guy’s been fuckin’ up a lot recently, who knew?”

Thinking on everything that’s been happening recently, the bombing of the Prison, Sig and Maia’s escapades like freeing the Lurkers in the Noble Sector, Daxter’s infiltration of anywhere he could get his grubby little paws into, and Krew being Krew, he slowly nodded. “Yeah. Who’da thunk?”

“Mhmm.” Daxter nodded, cracking his arm after a second. Loud. “Anyway, I saw Eco spots, Guard patrols, and I saw a coupla’ guys in Yellow KG armor.”

“Elite squads.” Torn frowned. “They’re usually outside the walls, defending the Baron’s interests, or killing bigger metal heads and any Marauders too stupid to get close. Still, that isn’t good. You got video?”

“Yeah, course I do.” Daxter nodded, flicking him a data chip. “Go over it when’ya aint busy. It’s not too long, got about five minutes worth. Had to cut it off halfway ta’ sneeze.”

“Really?” Torn flatly asked, but Daxter put his hands on his hips.

“My fur might be waterproof, but it was still freezing up there! Whaddaya want from me!?”

“Daxter.” Tess gently said, and Daxter stopped and sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. It was cold, and I was at least smart enough to get away from the window ta’ do it. Baron still heard me, came up in a weird squid mechsuit. Had to hide in an alcove so he didn’t see me.”

Weird squid mechsuit? Torn didn’t actually want to know, and he didn’t care.

“Right.” He said instead. “Well, that’s good intel, at least. Once we have the patrols logged we’ll know what spots to avoid. I got another job coming up, one that actually pays this time, but I’d like you to work with Sig and the Eco Witch.”

“I can do that.” Daxter shrugged. “How bad could it be?”

“Well that’s good to hear, cause they’re here now.” Torn said, looking up as Sig and Maia made their way down, and Daxter turned. And then immediately pointed at Maia.

“You!?” He shrilly said. “Didn’t you die in your dumbass robot!?”

Oh boy. They knew each other.

Greeeeeeeat.