Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The beast roars, the deafening sound lingering thick and heavy in the surrounding air. It rattles throughout his limbs and into his very core.

This can’t be how it’s going to end, can it? With this disgusting creature leaking its disgusting mouth fluids all over him and clogging his olfactory receptors with the acrid stench of its disgusting breath? Just laid out right here on the ground between it and his three arch-nemeses like some kind of sacrificial offering?

It’s all so anti-climactic.

“Oh, boy,” the lombax says, and all six of the Z’Grute’s eerie, glowing eyes shift away from Nefarious at the sound. Which definitely doesn’t cause him to whimper in relief. “Clank, do you have anything that—”

“I believe this may do the trick.”

“Huh. Welp, guess there’s only one way to find out.” A click, then, “Hey, big guy!” The creature shuffles its feet with a low, rumbling growl, and it’s all Nefarious can do to keep himself from yelling at the moron to stop antagonizing it! “Fetch!”

A flashlight goes sailing overhead, the light strobing as it flips end over end before disappearing from view below the edge of the platform, and seriously? That’s their brilliant idea? Of all the idiotic things he’s ever born witness to in his life, that has got to be at the very top of the—

But the Z’Grute steps back. Sniffs at the air once. Twice. And with another throaty growl it bounds off in the direction the light had gone. Shakily, Nefarious climbs to his feet. He’s drenched head to toe in the stinking thing’s saliva, and he sloughs off as much of it as he can with his hands. The heroes don’t even seem to remember his presence as they turn on one another instead.

“You just had to go and meet up with a guy you didn’t know—”

“Hey! It’s a big universe out there! I must have trillions of adoring fans who wish to publicly pay tribute to my awesome and heroic deeds. Who am I to refuse their adulation on the sole basis of not knowing them personally?”

“—to accept an award you didn’t earn!”

“In my defense, I’ve accepted hundreds of awards I didn’t earn. And only twice have I ever been attacked by a Z’Grute!”

With a forlorn look at his now useless hovercraft, Nefarious gives it a nudge with the side of his foot. Great. And not even the cryo-remote remains behind. Had Lawrence even realized yet that he still had it?

Lawrence…

He glares down the path his butler had taken just minutes prior. Well, he had better figure it out soon and get back out here to aid in his escape or else Nefarious is going to—

Behind him, the lombax lets out a frustrated sound that expresses his own grievances all too well.

“If I may intervene,” Clank says in a hesitant voice that makes Nefarious seethe even harder. “There is no time to argue this matter right now. The Z’Grute will not stay distracted for long, and it now has our scent. We should be planning how to get rid of it before it decides to terrorize the city. Qwark. You said you have dealt with these creatures before?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

Nefarious tunes their voices out, looking beyond them to where the lombax’s ship resides. It’s a long shot, but if he can at least get a decent head start on them…

Quiet as he can, he inches his way through the shadows. He immediately curses the glowing panels on his body, but the trio is too engrossed in their little friendship circle to pay him any mind. As soon as they no longer stand between him and his one chance for escape, he pauses long enough to once again eye the path Lawrence had taken. He can’t wait. There’s no time. But he can find Lawrence later when he’s up in the air and clear of these three nuisances.

Yeah, that’s right. Looks like he’s going to be taking care of the last minute rescues this time around. What do you have to say about that, Lawrence?!

He makes a break for it.

“Oh, yeaaahhh, I almost forgot about—”

“Nefarious! Get back here!”

“Well, why don’t you come and MAKE me, lombax!” He follows the taunt up with a gleeful laugh. He’s almost there. And he’s got a big enough lead that they don’t stand a chance once he’s onboard.

Finally. Something in this forsaken plan of his that’s decided to go his way.

Then, several cubits shy of his prize, the ship bursts into the air. He skids to a halt and watches with a mixture of horror and despair as the Z’Grute’s massive teeth clamp around the frame, shaking it in its jaws like a rag doll.

“No, no, not again! Why is it always my ship that’s destroyed five minutes after something decides to happen?”

The lombax comes to a stop at his side, looking even more aggrieved than he feels, and Nefarious takes pleasure in the fact that at least he’s not the only one having an off day.

“Alright. I think we’re gonna need all hands on deck for this one. Think you can handle it, pal?”

“Of course.”

And with that, Ratchet taps the side of his glove. Another glove appears in his hand, and when Clank takes it and shoves his own through, it automatically resizes itself to meet his specifications.

“Okay now, Qwark.” A blaster springs into existence next and he pauses, looking from Qwark to Nefarious and back again. Shards of the mauled ship sprinkle over them like confetti, a mocking celebration of him and his terrific failure of a plan. Despite his vastly inferior height, the lombax straightens and meets Nefarious’ gaze head on. “So what about you? Are you helping or what?”

Nefarious places a hand on his hip and offers a scathing look that he hopes does justice to just how much of an idiot he thinks the lombax is. “Or what,” he says, voice dripping with derision. “Was that ever even in doubt?”

“Right. So.” Ratchet tosses the blaster to Qwark. He fumbles the catch but unfortunately lacks the decency to set it off in his own stupid face before finally getting a handle on it. “After the Z’Grute eats Nefarious, lay in to it with all you’ve got.”

“I—What?!”

Ratchet’s eyes settle on a point behind him. “Time’s running out, Nefarious. Last chance.”

Nefarious balks. Since when is that scrawny, little rodent the one dishing out ultimatums? That was his job, last he checked. But…

Lawrence is gone. There’s a Light-Eating Z’Grute running amuck that wants to kill him. And his only hope of surviving this mess lies in the hands of a squishy moron, a meddlesome space rat, and a filthy traitor to all of robot kind.

What’s a poor supervillain to do?

A mangled chunk of fuselage crashes to the ground only a cubit or two away, and another earth-shattering roar sounds out, far too close for comfort.

“Okay, fine! I’ll help! I’ll help!”

“Truce?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever! Just give me something to blast it with already!”

He’s expecting something far dinkier than the rocket launcher that gets shoved into his arms, but he’s certainly not about to complain. The lombax brings a slightly different looking launcher to his own shoulder and says, “Alright, everyone. On my mark.”

“Your mark? Don’t make me laugh. We’ll go on my mark!”

“Actually, guys, as Galactic President, I think we can all agree—”

“Too late,” Ratchet says. “Mark.”

They’re way too close, though, and the blast of heat from the impact nearly knocks them off their feet. The Z’Grute’s pained shriek before it loses its grip on the platform is somehow even more chilling than its previous enraged howls.

“Is that it?”

Ratchet steps forward, and Nefarious frowns. He’d done his research before hunting down the blasted thing, and if that’s all it took to dispose of it in the end, this plan had turned out to be even more depressingly disappointing than he’d thought. He’d chosen the Z’Grute in particular for its overall hardiness and ruthlessly aggressive disposition. That decision made, Luminopolis had been the obvious setting in which to unleash it, thanks to the nigh endless sources of power available for it to feed off of.

This very spot had been meticulously scoped out over the course of weeks. Far enough outside the main city that the Z’Grute would be more interested in snacking on the heroes before rampaging the unsuspecting populous, but still close enough to regenerate itself in the unlikely event that they lasted more than six seconds against it.

It had been a perfect plan.

“You know, Ratchet, I’d be a bit more careful if I were you. Those things don’t go down nearly so easy.” Qwark sounds nervous, and he clutches the blaster closer as though soothed by its presence. His cowardice is nothing new, but given the circumstances and his being the only one of them with any alleged amount of experience fighting one of these things, Nefarious files it away as confirmation of at least one part of his plan he’d gotten right.

“Please listen to Qwark, Ratchet. It is likely the Z’Grute was still disoriented from cryosleep, and that was why we were able to catch it unawares.”

“Do you even know how much trouble I went through to set this whole thing up? Surely you don’t think I’d just pick up any old creature that would go down in a single hit.”

“Don’t ask questions you can’t handle the answer to,” Ratchet says as he kneels to look over the edge. 

A surge of anger lances through Nefarious, and he becomes keenly aware of the rocket launcher held within his grasp. Just one shot. That’s all it would take to be rid of this squishy menace once and for all. But before he can fully commit to the idea, the lombax jumps to his feet and hurries away from the ledge.

“Not to alarm anyone, but you’re all gonna want to start running. Like, right now.”

No sooner does Ratchet rush passed, Clank leaping up to take his usual place on his back, than one enormous, clawed hand emerges from below, gouging into the platform before pulling up the rest of its gargantuan form. Those enraged, glowing eyes fixate on him, and Nefarious immediately turns tail. A vengeful cry chases after him.

“So now what?” he asks, forcing himself not to look back. They’re the heroes after all. Let them do the heavy lifting. He’s just an unwilling passenger in this overstuffed clown car of lunacy.

“Good question. Hey, Qwark! You want to finally dispense some of that wisdom and yadda yadda whatever that you were talking about earlier on how to defeat this thing?”

“Why, I’d love to, cadet! Unfortunately, I have no idea how to stop that thing.”

“But you said—” 

“I said I’d been attacked twice. Not that I was actually able to do anything about it!”

“Qwark!”

“Um,” Clank butts in, voice pitched in concern. “You three may want to find cover soon. Very soon.”

They pass beneath an archway and Nefarious realizes he’s familiar with this particular forked path. One way leads to certain death, but the other? Well. He doubts the beast will be able to turn down the sight of Luminopolis gleaming right there in the distance.

“But that leads towards the city!”

“Well, the other way leads to a dead end, so unless you want to be digested in the next five sec—actually, go ahead. You’d be doing me a favor.” The other two follow his lead without further argument. 

“Well, color me surprised. Come here often, Nefarious?”

“No, you twit! Unlike some people around here, I actually research an area before visiting it for the first time!”

The screeching sound of the archway being twisted and ripped to shreds pierces through the open air, and Clank says, “Oh, dear.” 

A pair of high rise buildings ahead mark the outer limits of the city, but Nefarious realizes with a sinking feeling that they aren’t going to make it to them in time. He looks behind him. The Z’Grute pounces, and Nefarious covers his head with his arms and the rocket launcher, awaiting his imminent and untimely demise.

But it never comes. 

Looking back up, he sees the Z’Grute perched on the edge of one of the buildings, climbing its way to the top where the—oh, of course. The lumenoid generators. This close to the city, there’s no way it would be able to resist the energy levels. 

“Awesome,” Ratchet says as he surveys the scene. “As if it wasn’t bad enough when it was just out to get us. What are we going to do about it now?”   

“My city!” Qwark cries out as the four of them watch the Z’Grute leap from one building to another and claw its way to the generators at the very top. 

Nefarious takes a small step away from the group. His person no longer immediately threatened by the Z’Grute, there’s not much reason for him to stick around. He’ll just hide out for a bit until either Lawrence finds him or he stumbles across some other means of egress. He may even be able to get his hovercraft back in working order while he revels in the havoc being wreaked nearby.

From a respectful distance, of course.

Qwark falls to his knees and grips the sides of his head. “My loyal voters!” Ratchet slaps a hand to his face. Clank watches the scene with a concerned finger at his mouth. Nefarious, meanwhile, continues to inch his way along out of sight. “My re-election campaign!”

He doesn’t make it very far before Qwark turns his furious gaze on him.

“You! Do you know what you’ve just done?!” He gets to his feet, yanking the loosened tie from his neck as he bears down on Nefarious. “Of all the underhanded things you’ve done over the years, Nefarious, sabotaging both my Tool of Justice award ceremony and re-election in a single night hands down beats—” he drives one meaty finger into Nefarious’ chest “—them—” again “—all.” And one final, punctuated poke sends Nefarious stumbling to his backside. “My managers told me I wouldn’t survive another giant monster being unleashed on a major population center!”

“Good!” Nefarious snipes back, equal parts incredulous that this dolt still hasn’t realized the whole ceremony was a ruse and infuriated that he seems to think he can still push Nefarious around like some helpless child. It wasn’t all that long ago when Qwark had been cowering in an empty elevator, frantically pressing every button in sight in a desperate bid to get away from him. This little stint as Galactic President has really gone to his head. “Anyone idiotic enough to vote for you in the first place deserves to have their city razed to the ground around them!”

They continue to glower at each other.

“Ratchet!”

“What? You get what you vote for, is all I’m sayin’.”

“Ratchet…”

“I was never not going to save the city, so relax. But we’re not done with you yet, Nefarious. You started this mess, and this time, you’re coming with us to fix it.”

Unfortunately, Nefarious doesn’t get the chance to tell him just where to stuff that ridiculous notion because Qwark lets out a delighted gasp.

“My Friendship Through Firepower Initiative!”

And as quickly as Qwark’s anger towards him had flared up, it extinguishes. Before he knows what’s happening, Nefarious is tugged from his inelegant sprawl on the ground and crushed tightly against the green moron’s side, arms pinned and feet kicked out at a useless angle behind him. 

“My administration wouldn’t allow it!”

“Can’t imagine why,” Ratchet says with a tired sigh.

“They told me I couldn’t just hand the general populace access to top-secret, military-grade weaponry. But I say, why not? Now that I’ve moved on from the hero biz, it’s the perfect way to keep the people safe. If they can protect themselves, and by extension each other, they won’t need to keep waiting for the next hero to finally step in and take up my glorious mantle.”

“Uh huh…”

“Plus, they’d have to go through a certification course—instructed by yours truly—to qualify. I was amazing in it!”

At long last, Nefarious is finally able to pry open enough space to slip his way out of Qwark’s hold.

“ENOUGH of your empty-headed prattling! We are NOT friends! And I’m not taking part in your stupid initiative, either! I came here to ANNIHILATE you! Not help you defeat a bloodthirsty beast I purposefully let loose in the first place!”

The three heroes share a look. Then, acting as a singular unit, they level their weapons at him. Clank even has the rocket launcher Nefarious had lost track of when he’d fallen.

He glares at each of them in turn, cramming years, decades, an entire lifetime’s worth of accumulated contempt and rage and burning hatred into the expression. Once he’s sure they understand exactly how he feels about them, he lets out a frustrated sound and throws his hands into the air.

“FINE!”

Chapter Text

“Touch me again, Qwark, and your hands will be the new door knocker for my lair!”

Qwark immediately retracts the blaster he’d been intermittently digging between Nefarious’ shoulders as they made their way into the city. Earning back his weapon privileges is apparently dependent upon him staying at the front of the group and proving his capacity for good behavior until such time that their lives are once again in jeopardy.

Morons.

“Finally think of something that might help us against the Z’Grute?”

Oh, right. And also there’s that.

It’s clear in Ratchet’s tone that he suspects him of stalling. Nefarious turns to glower at him.

This might be even worse than the combined loss of the biobliterator and his space station. Sure, he may have suffered crushing and humiliating defeats in both instances, but at least he hadn’t been forced into providing the information on how to foil his own brilliant plans. In any case, the lombax’s suspicions ring true. He has been stalling.

Nefarious eyes the open city ahead of him with dread. The devastation the Z’Grute has left in its wake is on par with what he’d hoped for. Swaths of the city have long gone black. Traffic is in complete disarray from the looming darkness, the mangled buildings and platforms leaning and dangling into the open airway, and scattered debris from the shattered casings of lumenoid generators wedged anywhere they can be wedged. Sirens and horns wail out in the flashing red and blue distance.

It’s beautiful.

Then, right on the horizon line, there’s an intense flash of white-blue. It flickers like several bolts of lightning striking the same exact location in the same exact moment, and the ever-present haze of illumination drifting over the city dims just a little bit more. Something presses against his back again, but given the angle, he knows it isn’t Qwark and his blaster this time.

“Any time, Nefarious,” the lombax says, nudging him with even more force. He sounds impatient, and unlike Qwark, who prioritizes putting up a good show over all else, Nefarious knows he’s dead serious. It has him feeling agitated as well.

He perches his hands on his hips as though his life isn’t currently being threatened. With a huff, he glances down at his tapping foot. Then he narrows his gaze and aims it pointedly to the sky above. He blinks. Slowly, it occurs to him that this is it. The point of no return. That single, pivotal moment that inevitably comes to pass in every scheme he’s ever acted upon. And this time?

This time Lawrence isn’t coming for him.

Nefarious hadn’t considered the possibility before now, but it looks like it hadn’t been one of Lawrence’s insubordinate wise-cracks, after all. For a moment, the current coursing though his circuitry seems to stop cold, dragging the flow of time down along with it. But just as quickly, it ramps back up full force. His hands ball into fists and his jaws grind together with a hideous shriek. He spins around, without a thought as to how the lombax will react, and swats away the weapon wedged between his ribs.

Ratchet staggers backward from the force of the blow. The other two lift their guns in response, but Nefarious pays them no heed. This isn’t about them right now. 

This is about the fact that Lawrence has left him high and dry among his most deadly adversaries. It’s about the fact that for the very first time in his entire villainous career, he’s acting completely alone. It’s about the fact that for all these years Lawrence has viewed himself as nothing less than indispensable, a crucial and necessary component of Nefarious’ every dastardly ploy. As though Nefarious would never have been able to achieve what he has without his assistance and snark and all-around pessimistic snobbishness.

But he’ll show Lawrence. Nefarious is the greatest evil genius to ever plague the galaxy with his presence! He’s going to destroy this stupid, errant creature AND save this stupid, ravaged city AND find a way off this stupid, miserable planet without being apprehended by the authorities in the process! And he’s going to do it all by himself! Before coming back at a later date to finish the job properly.

On his own.

“This isn’t going to be enough,” he says, frowning at each of the weapons trained on him. “Maybe to distract it or lure it out somewhere. But it didn’t seem injured at all from the one hit we actually got in.” He cups his chin with one hand, grips his elbow with the other, and begins to pace. 

“So we require more firepower,” Clank clarifies, and Nefarious hums in response, gesturing slightly toward the still glowing metropolis.

“And to get it away from any energy sources it can use to rejuvenate itself.”

There’s a low whistle, and Ratchet says, “You did not make that one easy for us.”

“All according to plan,” Nefarious says, but the words lack any of his usual enthusiasm. His scowl deepens as he stares out over the city and contemplates their next move. 

That’s when a fragment of that asinine manifesto catches at the edge of his brain before holing itself up and taking residence there. He spins to shove a finger at Qwark, who recoils at the abrupt move. “You! You said something earlier about top-secret, military-grade weaponry. Do you know if there’s any of that around here?”

Qwark looks cornered, and Nefarious takes back his question with a roll of his eyes and an exasperated wave of his hand. Given that he’s turned out to be an even more ineffectual politician than hero, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. Looks like Nefarious is going to be building some overpowered and highly dangerous super weapon out of bits of scrap metal held together with chewing gum after all.

He loathes having to do that. Labs filled to the brim with cutting-edge technology exist for a reason.

“Actually,” Qwark says at last, shuffling from side to side and looking like the word costs him an enormous amount of effort. “The last defense minister did set up a handful of fusion turrets throughout the city in the event you ever turned up to invade the place.”

Yeah. As if fusion turrets would ever be enough to deter the likes of Dr. Nefarious. But he keeps that to himself and instead says, “Okay, great, so how do we access them?”

Qwark holds up a finger. “I…uh. Need to make a quick call.” He straightens his disheveled suit as best as he can and saunters off. “Why, Minister Garblak! It’s me, President Qwark! Yes…yes…yeah, crazy story, but me and my body guards just so happen to be in Luminopolis right now. Small galaxy, huh? Look, I’ve got a few questions for you…” His voice fades away into the distance, leaving Nefarious to survey the city with Ratchet and Clank at his side.

The silence doesn’t last, however, as Ratchet says, somewhat incredulously, “So you found this thing, captured it and brought it here to fight us, and you really don’t know how to stop it?”

“Of course not, you twit! I never fought it. I lured it out into the open and put it into stasis. But I don’t have the remote anymore. It’s with Lawren—” His mouth snaps shut with enough force to sever bone, and his body trembles with a blazing furor he’s never known before. Sparks begin to fly in his periphery.

“Whoa, whoa! Sorry I mentioned it. So the fusion turrets. Do you think they’ll actually work?”

“It won’t matter either way if that oaf can’t get us to them in the first place.” It’s not an answer. He doesn’t have an answer. But thankfully they don’t try to speak to him again before Qwark returns. 

“Pardon us,” Qwark calls out as he barrels his way through crowds of rubberneckers flocking the miraculously unmarred streets at the city’s entrance. Nefarious and Ratchet follow close behind. “Just your friendly Galactic President on his way to save this illustrious city. Remember, folks, the Q works for you!” Then, a little more desperately, “Don’t forget who actually showed up in your moment of need come election time!”

“Qwark. Is now really the time?”

“What? Ceaselessly campaigning for your next term is the most important part of the job, Clank. Everyone knows that. Besides, it won’t hurt anything to stir up a little extra loyalty in the voting pool while I’m out here doing something truly selfless and praiseworthy!”

Nefarious snorts. “When’d you pick up that ridiculous slogan? Was it after you ignored the pleas of the last six cities that had massive beasts of destruction unleashed on them?”

Qwark missteps but quickly catches himself. “How did you—”

“Oh, I keep tabs on all your negative press. I have an entire wall devoted to it in my office! And while I’ll admit this hasn’t been my most original plan to date, there’s no doubt that I pulled it off far better than any of those other incompetent half-wits.”

“Can we just focus on finding the Z’Grute and getting it near those defense towers?” Ratchet butts in.

They turn a corner, and Qwark waves his arm, coming to a stop next to a frazzled air taxi driver who’s half standing, half sitting in his cab. 

“Ah, you there. Good citizen. Just your concerned President checking in, no need to feel overwhelmed by my awesome presence. We have urgent need of this vehicle in order to slay the terrible creature assaulting your fair city.”

The driver just stares up at him, whether in amazement or confusion or even disgust, Nefarious can’t tell. Qwark pastes on a pleasant smile and presses on.

“Why, never fear!” He brandishes a business card from his breast pocket and slips it between the driver’s fingers. “I’m sure you have concerns about recompensation in the extremely likely event that we lose this critical component of your livelihood in a blazing inferno of justice. But I can assure you that if you just call my office in the morning, you will find yourself in the most gracious and capable of hands.”

The driver looks down at the card in puzzlement but makes no move to leave his cab.

“Oh, for the love of—” Nefarious shoves Qwark aside and yanks the driver out of the taxi and onto the ground. “Get lost,” he snarls, and he takes a moment to savor the way the man’s eyes bulge at the sight of him before he screams and scampers off down the street.

“Well, that’s not going to look good on my record.”

“STOP wasting time already, and just get in!”

“Take it away, Ratchet!” Qwark says as he rushes to the passenger side. “I, uh…haven’t had to do this in a while.”

With Ratchet and Qwark up front, Nefarious is relegated to the back seat with Clank. He’d complain, but he supposes it beats being stuck next to an organic. Clank doesn’t require much room and sits in relative comfort, but it’s all Nefarious can do to fold his gangly legs into the tiny space afforded him.

“Can any of you see anything helpful?” Ratchet asks once they’re in the air.

“Well, maybe if we actually flew above the skyline it would help.”

“Ah, yes. If only public transportation vehicles weren’t required to have altimeter locks in place for safety reasons. I’m glad you brought it up, Nefarious. I’ll look into that during my next term in office.”

“Shut up and turn on the radio, you moron. They always do live coverage of these events.”

“—just received several photos from our viewers suggesting that President Copernicus Qwark is here in the city as we speak. With him are fan-favorite duo Ratchet and Clank—quite the way to kick off that retirement, eh boys? And—wait a minute. I don’t believe it. Is that…who I think it is, Pepper? Or am I in the throes of some sort of stress-induced fever dream right now?”

“Well, I sure hope not, Kip. Otherwise, I’m experiencing the exact same fever dream. For those of you tuning in on your holo-vids, we’ll share the images on screen. For the rest of our devoted listeners out there: it would appear that Dr. Nefarious is…working alongside our heroes?”

Nefarious leans back in his seat as best he can and sulks. “Great. There goes my hard-earned reputation, down the drain.”

“Hey, they barely even mentioned me. Why are you three getting all the attention?”

“But if Dr. Nefarious is helping stop the Z’Grute, then who released it in the first place?”

“A concerning thought that crosses through all our minds, Kip, as we helplessly watch the carnage unfolding in downtown Luminopolis. It also begs the question: Is this the beginning of a change of heart for the diabolical Doctor? And if so, will the galaxy be able to accep—”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!”

Nefarious launches himself through the narrow gap between the two front seats in order to better scream at the radio. His claws puncture through the ratty, stained fabric as he does so, and Ratchet and Qwark both flinch away, slamming their hands over their ears. The cab gives a violent lurch.

“How DARE you spin my story in such an insidious manner, you vile, slandering CRETINS! When I get my hands on you, I’ll SHOW you what a change of heart REALLY looks like!”

He could go on, but another air car chooses this moment to cross their path. With a yelp, Ratchet slams on the breaks and swerves hard to the left, throwing Nefarious headlong into the dash and then Qwark in the process. 

Qwark sticks his head out the window and shakes his fist. “Hey, pal! Your President’s driving here! I tell ya. Some people have absolutely no business being on the airway.”

Nefarious scrambles out of Qwark's lap and rubs the abused dome of his head. The radio continues to blare its misguided commentary at him.

“According to law enforcement on the scene, the Z’Grute appears to be making a beeline for the Luminopolis power plant—”

“Great!” Ratchet says. Then, “So where is that?”

“—located at the intersection of sixth and Quasar Avenue.”

“Thanks, weirdly specific newscast lady. So. Anyone here have any idea where that is? Somehow, I don’t think she’s going to start rambling off step-by-step directions next.”

Nefarious pushes himself up from the center console and props his forearms onto the dash. He gives their surroundings a once over and points out the windshield. “Hang a left at that demolished rail crossing up ahead. We should run right into Quasar in a couple of blocks.

Ratchet gives him a skeptical look but does as instructed.

“Don’t tell me,” Qwark says, aghast. “You’ve been secretly moonlighting as a taxi driver since you went missing, haven’t you?”

“NO, you imbecile! I studied this city for weeks before enacting this plan!”

Engrossed in these two idiots’ squishy incompetence as deeply as he is, he barely remembers Clank’s presence until his voice drifts up from the back seat. “Is it wise to go straight for the Z’Grute without a plan of action in place?”

“We have a plan,” Ratchet says, and he dips beneath a skyscraper leaning heavily into the airway. “Find the monster, lead it to the turrets, and duh-guh, duh-guh, duh-guh, duh-guh, duh-guh, it’s dead. Well, you know. Hopefully.”

Silence ensues, and Nefarious can clearly imagine the other robot’s expression. In his mind’s eye it bears an uncanny resemblance to the look he often receives from Lawrence when he gets just a little too riled up about his next extraordinary act of villainy.

Received. Used to receive. In any case, it’s not something he has to put up with any longer. He really dodged a bullet by finally getting rid of that guy. Tch.

“Do we even know how to reach the turrets once we gain its attention?”

Ratchet opens his mouth and hesitates.

“Oh, do I have to do everything around here?” In the end, it’s left to Nefarious to hack into the cab’s anti-theft, user-locked GPS interface and program it with the four points Qwark provides. Since he’s elbows deep in the thing's guts anyways, he goes ahead and kills the altimeter lock while he’s at it.

“Finally,” Ratchet says before steering them well above the rooftops. 

Up here, it’s much easier to track the Z’Grute’s progress. There’s not much rhyme or reason to the zigzagging and at times intersecting trail of destruction. In typical squishy fashion, it seems to have gone for whatever it could eat that caught its eye first. Nefarious would be more annoyed if it hadn’t at least done a good job of things. 

Not to mention that the night is still young and the defense turrets still tucked several kilocubits away in the very center of the city. While he may have been suckered into putting an end to his plan prematurely, there would still be plenty of ravaging to come.

A flash of light in the distance gives away the Z’Grute’s position, and Ratchet sets their course.

“So who wants to do the honors of making the mean monster mad?” he says as he holds up a newly manifested blaster. Nefarious eyes it longingly.

“After the night I’ve had, I wouldn’t mind shooting at something.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day, Nefarious. Knock yourself out.”

To Nefarious’ surprise, Ratchet doesn’t hesitate when he hands it over. There’s a moment where he can feel Qwark go still at his side, as if he’d been any less lethal without the blaster than he is with it, but reluctantly, Nefarious retreats into the back seat.

Sure. He could shoot him right here. It certainly is tempting. But where was the fun in that? He’s been fantasizing about Qwark’s demise for coming up on three decades now, and despite the odds, Nefarious is still holding out some hope that he’ll be picking bits and pieces of him from between the Z’Grute’s unforgiving teeth later on.

“Okay,” Ratchet says, seemingly as much to himself as to everyone else. “I’ll get us close, Nefarious will get its attention, and then I’ll drop one of you guys off at a turret and make sure it stays within range. You may have to take out any power sources while I keep it occupied.”

“In an interesting, and in fact unexpected, turn of events, a slew of strange, unidentified robots have just teleported within city limits.”

“Perhaps they’re the ones responsible for the Z’Grute’s presence and are using the distraction to invade our city. What do you think, Pepper?”

“It makes about as much sense as anything else, Kip. Let’s get the Defense Minister on the line and see what he has to say to the masses regarding this new development.”

“Of course. You couldn’t have mentioned that you had a robot army coming in before now, could you?” Ratchet says angrily, but Nefarious is just as taken aback by the news as he is.

“This has nothing to do with me!” he snaps. “Do you know how much a robot army costs? Thanks to someone here, I can’t operate on that kind of budget these days!” Then, half scrambling out the window while waving the blaster around in anger, “Nobody piggybacks off MY schemes! Get out of here, and come back with an original idea!”

Qwark clears his throat. “Not to bring attention to past catastrophes that possibly could have been handled a bit better, but aren’t you the seventh person to pull the whole ‘giant monster in the city’ shtick over the last two years?”

“I improved it! Also, I’m in possession of a gun right now.” He gestures to it for effect.

“Point taken.” And with that, Qwark turns back around and shuts up.

“Great. So giant monster? Or robot army? Is it too much to ask to have just one crisis going on at a time?”

In response to Ratchet’s question, the city falls almost completely dark below them. The only remaining light comes from a smattering of cars hovering in the airway and the lumenoid generators dotting the rooftops. Nefarious fails to stifle a smug smirk even as Ratchet sighs.

“Well,” Clank says in a tone of forced optimism, “at least this severely limits the Z’Grute’s ability to regenerate itself. It should also make it much easier to hold its attention once we begin leading it to the turrets.”

As it were, Clank turns out to be right. With most of its power sources extinguished, the Z’Grute tears after them with a frenzied and single-minded intent. Fully fed, it’s much faster and more agile than Nefarious remembers. He keeps it in his sights, letting loose a round of plasma whenever it slows or looks like it’s even considering taking an alternate course. It doesn’t take long for the defense towers to come into view.

They drop Qwark off at the east tower first, and it’s with a deep sense of regret and self-loathing that Nefarious fires several shots at the Z’Grute to keep it from scaling the building after him. It shrieks with displeasure and leaps toward them once again.

Next goes Clank to the south tower, which leaves Nefarious alone with the lombax.

“Let’s just cut to the chase,” Ratchet says while Nefarious takes another shot to lure the beast their way. “I know you’re planning on bailing the moment I let you out of here, so I’ve got a deal for you.”

Nefarious glances toward the driver’s seat, intrigued at this unexpected turn. He drawls, “And what could you possibly have to offer that I would want?”

Ratchet casts him a brief look through the rear view mirror before turning his attention back to the airway ahead.

“Stick around and help until the Z’Grute’s down, and I won’t come looking for you when the PDF arrives. I won’t even tell them that Lawrence abandoned you here.” Nefarious' eye twitches. “As far as they’ll know, the two of you disappeared way before they ever showed up. You can lay low in the city for however long you need while you figure out how to get off this rock. But just know that the next time we see you, you won’t be so lucky.”

They pass the west tower as Ratchet awaits his response, and he circles back around. Roaring in frustration, the Z’Grute trails behind them.

“Ooo-ooh, big words for the so-called hero who’s never been able to take me in before. But…I accept.”

The lombax’s shoulders relax, and he finally hovers at the top of the building. He turns and holds out an expectant hand for the gun, which Nefarious returns with a heavy roll of his eyes.

“I’m not supposed to actually give you the codes,” Ratchet says, tapping away at the comm unit on his wrist, “but there’s not really a lot of time for me to babysit you with that thing after us. This city’s already wrecked anyways.”

A notification appears on Nefarious’ own comm, and he climbs out. He looks back with a challenging grin and says, “Happy retirement to you and your little backpack, lombax.”

Then he slams the door in his stunned foe’s face.