Snippet Monday: Blackmail au
Prologue
"Travel the stars with us," the Precursors said, "Become one of us."
"I will," answered the hero, "but only on one condition: in the next iteration of this endless cycle, let the child have his family. Let at least one iteration of us know his father."
"If we allow this," said the Precursors, "you will still be the chosen hero. You will still hold the blood of Mar. And you will still suffer. But for one lifetime, we will let the child be a separate person, in exchange for your service in this lifetime."
"Then it is agreed," said the hero, and so the wheel of time turned, changing direction ever so slightly.
Part One: The Bargain
"Ah, there he is, right on schedule." Krew chortled as Jak slipped through the pub door.
There were a lot of people at the bar, all Wastelanders. Tess shot a worried look at Jak, but kept her bubbly smile up. What was going on? Were these friends of Sig’s? Jak wasn't so sure, considering the concerned grimace Sig was sporting.
One of the newcomers, a broad, scarred man with a drooping mustache, stood up and approached Jak slowly.
"Yep," he drawled, circling the boys, "Nipper's got the eyes alright. Same jaw, too." He snorted. "Heh. And here I was afraid you was losin' your touch, Krew. Right. We'll take 'im."
"Excuse me?" Daxter sputtered.
"Sorry, Jak," Krew said without the slightest shred of sincerity, "But after that little racing stunt of yours, I had to do some thinking. I've got a lot of money riding on Errol winning that final race. I'm afraid you've just become too expensive to keep on. No hard feelings, eh? It's just business."
"Ok?" Jak eyed the Wastelanders suspiciously. "And that's supposed to keep me from racing because...?"
"Because you're under new management, shall we say." Krew gestured to the Wastelanders. "Don't think of it as being fired! Think of it as a transfer of sorts."
Daxter bristled. "You wanna run that by us again, Morning Breath?"
Instead, the Wastelander turned on his heel to face Krew. "Now, you an' me, we both know you're askin' too high for the state the brat's in. Come on, Krew, you ain't fed him this whole time?"
Jak went rigid and began to back towards the door. Whatever was happening here, he wanted no part of it.
"Well it's wholly up to your lord's discretion, of course," Krew said, oily smooth, "If you can't come up with the price, I'm sure the Baron would pay fairly for a soldier of Jak's caliber."
One of the women at the bar laughed meanly. "Lordship said you might say that. He also said to remind you that you could do that, but only if you feel like being hanged with your own entrails."
Krew fanned himself and hovered higher. "Oh dear me, that sounds like bad blood, doesn't it? Speaking of blood, you'd best get moving if you don't want to lose the boy, there. I'm not responsible for losses incurred during pickup."
Jak had barely gotten out the door before they were on him. Someone grabbed Daxter from his shoulder, and four more sets of hands pinned his arms. These weren't weak, exhausted Havenites. Or indolent KG looking for excitement. These were real Wastelanders, and they were more than a match for Jak's struggles.
"Let him go, rot you!" he snarled, lunging for the woman holding Daxter by the scruff, "Get your hands off him!"
"Easy, boy, easy." The woman took a step back. "Just gonna hang onto Shorty here as insurance."
Sig finally managed to push his way through the crowd and elbowed one of Jak's captors in the gut, hard. As the man doubled over, Sig ripped his hands off of Jak's arm.
"Hands off my rookies," he hissed.
"Sig, w- what- what- what-" Jak could barely speak. Rage and terror constricted his lungs, his throat.
"I don't know, cherry." Sig shook his head grimly. "But I'm gonna find out. No matter what happens, you stick close to me and do as I do, okay? We're gonna get you through this."
Then he shoved the rest of the Wastelanders away, one by one. They parted like wheat before the wind, like they knew Sig. Like they respected him. The second he was free, Jak had to lock his knees to keep from collapsing. He couldn't even bring himself to be angry that they could all see him trembling uncontrollably. Krew had sold him to Wastelanders like a piece of meat. Like a slave. What would happen to the search for the Tomb if he was imprisoned in the Wastes? Would The Shadow force the Kid to search in Jak’s stead? He wouldn't put it past him, not after the jobs they'd sent him to do.
"Oh, I do so love facilitating family reunions!" Krew cooed, hovering at the door, "It warms the heart! And me wallet!"
He waggled his fingers meaningfully and cast greedy eyes over a trunk the one called Kleiver kicked in his direction.
"Mmyes, tell your liege lord I'll keep me eyes peeled for the smaller brat, eh?"
Jak's already chilled blood froze. He lunged for Krew, barely restrained by Sig at the last second.
"Don't touch him!" he growled, "Don't you even look at him! I'll kill you! I'll rotting kill you!"
Jak didn't see the Wastelanders around him, even Sig, suddenly exchange extremely grim looks. But when Sig tugged him away from the bar and towards the waterfront, he knew something had changed.
"Quiet, cherry," Sig hissed in his ear. "You're gonna have the Guard down on us with that yelling, and I don't want to give Krew any ideas about collecting that bounty on you!"
They had to physically drag him into the air train, and even that was only possible because the woman holding Daxter captive went in first. Cursing Sig every step, Jak struggled in vain to get his arms free.
"Jak!" Sig finally exploded, "Knock it off! We're trying to save your ass, here!"
"I didn't ask for your help!" Jak aimed a kick behind him and met hard metal armor. Memories of the prison clawed at the edge of his mind, threatening to pull him back into a dark place.
"You have no right-! You can't buy- you- you-"
His breathing became rapid and labored. "I am not a thing!" he screamed, finally breaking free.
Seconds too late. The hatch was closed.
"Jak! Jak, look at me, kiddo, look at me!" Sig desperately tried to grab his arm.
"I don't know what's going on, you gotta believe me. But I know Krew wasn't joking about selling you to Praxis, and I'd die before I let that bastard get his hands on you again."
Kleiver curled his lip at them from across the hold. "Paid a ransom that coulda fed a garrison for a month and this is the thanks we get? Ungrateful brat is what you are."
Sig glared at him. "Ransom?! You walked in there talking like an auction! Who's ransoming Jak?"
The woman holding Daxter spoke up.
"Lord Damas wants him. Krew contacted him, month back. Said he had proof the Heir of Mar abandoned a bastard son during the coup and if nobody came forward to "take responsibility", he'd out him to Praxis."
Jak went very, very still. Was Krew using him to defraud someone? Wouldn't be out of character. But where had he gotten the idea to pass Jak off as the lost Heir? And did that mean little Mar was abandoned? If he was, Jak knew he was going to make this so-called lord in question pay in blood for it.
"Jak? Bull. Damas lost the baby in the coup. He didn't abandon him." Sig snapped.
"Not on purpose, at least," Kleiver snorted. “If you was carryin’ a deposed king’s brat during a hostile takeover, would you say anything?”
Sig tightened his jaw and said nothing.
Jak didn't know how long they were in the air train. He'd blocked everything out. The Wastelanders, Sig, even Daxter. He'd shut them out and retreated into the one corner of his mind where the darkness couldn't touch him. The place where he remembered the sound of the ocean, and warm waves against his ankles. He was free there, and they couldn't take the sea from him.
When they landed, he didn't even notice until a blinding light pierced the hold-
Along with the smell of salt air.
Jak raised his head slowly, squinting through hanks of hair into the light. His free place in his mind didn't have the smell of the sea. Why did he smell salt?
"Everybody out!" Kleiver bellowed, "You know I don't like monks, so let's get this over with, yeah?"
Sig wrapped an arm around Jak’s shoulders and pulled him to his feet. "Stay close, kids," he murmured, and Jak finally realized that now he had Daxter. "I...don't know what to tell you. But I'm gonna do whatever I can to keep you two safe, okay?"
They exited onto a spire of rock, high above what seemed like an endless stretch of desert on one side, and a turbulent sea on the other. A Precursor temple sat before them, surrounded by ruined columns and porticos. Three zoomer-like vehicles were parked near a tiny natural waterfall, which seemed to mean something to the Wastelanders.
"Welp. He's already here." The woman in the yellow turban sighed. "Fingers crossed this checks out, everybody."
She waved to Sig.
"Get him inside before noon, huh? I don't feel like losing a layer of skin to the sun, thanks."
It was nearly ten degrees colder inside the temple. Personally, Daxter thought the weird people dressed in rubber emanated half the chill themselves. One of them approached Sig, holding a small plastic cup. Their eyes flicked to Jak, and they held out the cup with a bored expression.
"Blood or saliva sample," they said flatly.
Jak balked. "What?"
Sig cringed. "They want to...to see if you're who Krew claimed you are. Just...spit in the cup, kid. Their computer will tell them if Krew was lying or not."
When it became clear that the monk wasn’t going to leave until they got what they were after, Jak begrudgingly spat into the cup. The monk exited the chamber without a word.
Jak spent the next three hours huddled in an alcove, behind a small Precursor statue. He clung to Daxter like a lifeline, glaring out at the monks and Wastelanders watching him and whispering amongst themselves. Any time one came close, Jak scooted further back into the cloister. None of them looked small enough to get around the statue at the mouth. They couldn't reach him here.
One man in particular wouldn't stop staring at them. He had a commanding presence, despite not being the tallest or broadest in the room. Scars decorated his face and arms, and sharp points of Precursor metal had been set into his skull. Which was admittedly kind of badass. He watched Jak with dark, piercing eyes and a hard set to his jaw. When a monk placidly paced forward and presented the man with a datapad, murmuring, "Positive match, sire," the man's eyes darkened further.
He turned on his heel and disappeared through a door.
"Sire?"
"I'm going to pray," the man snapped in a rough voice. "Leave me. And get the boy some water, for the gods' sake!"
Was that the man who had supposedly paid a ransom for him? Jak retreated into the very back of the cloister and buried his face in Daxter's fur.
"Rot this day. Rot this whole rotting week," he mumbled.
"You said it, pal." Dax wrapped his arms around Jak’s neck and tried to comfort him. "Hey, they made me spit in a cup too! You think their computer will tell them I'm an ottsel? Or a human?"
Jak blinked. "Uh....how smart are computers supposed to be?"
"Like. As smart as Vin, I think?"
Jak shrugged, grateful for the distraction. "Maybe. That'll freak ‘em out, huh?"
"Oh yeah. So what do you think is up with Spikes? Wrong answers only."
"Wrong only? Uh...he just found out he's part marmoset."
"Or his application for a piercing refund was rejected."
"Or," Sig interrupted flatly, "he just found out he had a kid he didn't know was alive, and he's dealing with a lot of guilt right now."
Sig crouched at the mouth of the cloister and looked in at them. He seemed to have aged years since that morning. He held out a hand and sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
"Come on out kiddo. We're gonna get you some food, some-"
He closed his eye and shook his head. "Volcan's bones. I...I didn't know- none of us did...gods, he must've snatched you the same year we lost Mar-"
"Mar?" Jak interrupted sharply, "What do you know about Mar?"
When Sig looked up again, Jak was shaken to see tears in his eye.
"I ain't talking about the founder of Haven, cherry. And I don't think you are, either."
He sniffed and cleared his throat. "Little thing. So...he's so- he was so small. Sweetest little kid you ever met, always getting into trouble."
He cleared his throat again and tapped his cybernetic eye. "Only takes a moment. You look away one minute. Not even one full minute. And that's all it takes for the world to end. Praxis sympathizers ambushed us. Shot out my eye and took- took Mar. We never saw him again. But...but I think you did."
Jak's stomach churned, and the world began to spin. Mar? The little boy he'd been so desperate to protect? This had to be some kind of trick, they were trying to trick him into giving up Mar's location so they could get to the Tomb. Daxter's claws dug into his arm, pulling him back to earth before the dark eco could take over.
"I have to go back-" Jak croaked, "You have to take me back- take me back! Take me back! I can't leave him alone!"
Sig shifted and looked up at someone just out of sight.
"I was right," he said heavily, "He knows something."
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Snippet Thursday, Week Two: Blackmail Au
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Kleiver stormed out of the hold of the air train, dragging the boy by the collar. He was fighting every step of the way, but Kleiver far outclassed him for height and weight. Jak's feet kicked and scrambled for purchase in the dusty mesa top. Damas tensed. What was the idiot doing? Jak barely trusted him as it was!
"Kleiver!" Damas hurried out of the temple courtyard, one hand already outstretched as if to pry the man's hand free. "Let him go!"
Kleiver swung his arm, sending the skinny teen careening into Damas’s chest. Hastily, Damas caught Jak and pushed the boy behind him.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.
"I told you I ain't no babysitter!" Kleiver growled, "Do you know what this stupid ankle-biter did?! Risked blowing the entire operation!"
"It worked, didn't it?" Jak snapped. He straightened out his tunic and bared his teeth.
Kleiver pointed a thick finger at the boy, who puffed out his chest as if trying to make himself look bigger and more intimidating.
"Volcan help me, lordship, but if I have to chase after your whelp in Haven again, he's comin' back in irons."
"You're gonna lose some fingers if you even try," Jak retorted.
"Enough." Damas turned slightly, keeping himself between them. "Kleiver, did you complete your mission?"
The mechanic sneered. "Aye. The ol' gangster's provided a thoughtful banquet for the sharks."
"Good." Damas nodded sharply. "I'll have Elgar choose a Gila to take his place in the food chain. You may return to Spargus."
As Kleiver started to go, Damas cleared his throat.
"And Kleiver? I would hope that my Wastelanders know not to grab a viper by the tail and expect not to be bitten."
"Sire?"
Damas raised an eyebrow and muffled an amused smirk. "If you put your hands on the boy again, I'm not going to stop him from defending himself."
Kleiver nodded a grudging assent and leveled an irate look at Jak. He stalked back to the air train, passing a bewildered Sig with a small bundle in his arms.
Damas’s heart lodged in his throat. The name died on his lips in a voiceless whisper. Did he dare hope?
Sig met his gaze with tears glittering in his eye. He nodded once, then set the bundle down. Out of an oversized jacket -- Jak's, Damas realized after a moment -- a little brown face appeared, haloed by curls as green as cactus. He looked around him with wide eyes, and Damas's heart ached. Mar had never been to the monastery. He'd been far too young. How strange it all must seem to him! Then Mar noticed him, and his breath froze in his lungs.
The tiny boy squinted against the glare of the sun, and then let out an almighty shriek.
Bare feet smacked against rock as Mar pelted towards him. He slammed into Damas’s knees and flung his arms around his legs. With a choking sob, Damas collapsed. He pulled his son into his arms and rocked back and forth. It took all his strength not to weep uncontrollably. He kissed Mar's forehead and then pressed his fist to his mouth, vainly trying to stifle the tears.
Mar's little brow wrinkled and he began to look upset. "Daddy, you're cryin!"
He squirmed to make his signs visible.
"Why are you sad?"
Unable to think straight, Damas said the first thing that came to his mind.
"I missed your birthday, twice! And- and I missed all of your brother's birthdays!"
Mouth forming a perfect little "o", Mar looked to Jak for confirmation. When the older boy only shrugged, Mar gasped.
"That is sad! Jakky didn't get any presents?!"
Jak bit his tongue before he could say 'I got tied to a chair and pumped full of dark eco for my last two birthdays.' Mar would never know what the Dark Warrior Program was, not if Jak had anything to say about it.
"We hafta get Jak a present!" Mar decided, "Then you won't be sad anymore! How much money you got?"
Jak burst out laughing behind them.
He sat cross-legged on the ground with a thump, waiting for Daxter to bring the dog down from the transport. He was beginning to suspect that he knew how the animal would respond to his so-called parent. Chopper had certainly been excited to see Sig. If Damas also got the dog's seal of approval, then maybe Jak could relax a little. Think of these men like Torn or Vin, perhaps.
Jak picked up a pebble and rolled it across the tops of his fingers.
"So...you remember this guy?" he asked his baby brother.
"Yah!" Mar nodded firmly. "That's Daddy! See? I 'membered. I'm not a baby!"
Jak scoffed. "Yeah you are."
"Not!"
"A tiiiiny baby."
"No I'm not!"
A mischievous smirk tugged the corner of Jak's mouth.
"100% baby."
"No!!" Mar yelped. He crossed his arms and huffed, turning his face away from Jak haughtily.
"In a manner of speaking, he's correct," Damas croaked, wiping his eyes. "You've gotten very tall, Mar. But you'll always be my baby."
"See? Told ya." Mischief sparkled in Jak’s eyes.
Mar scowled. "I don't wanna be a baby! I'm gonna get as big as Jakky! Ba said I could!"
Just as quickly as it had come, Mar's ire subsided as he thought of a new question.
"Is my blankie clean?"
Damas blinked. "What?"
"My blankie!" Mar insisted, "Remember? You said? You said you'd wash it and then the bad guy came in the house?"
Damas was thunderstruck. Mar remembered that? He shoved aside the dismal thought of the toddler missing his favorite blanket for two long years and cuddled his son closer.
"Yes, Daddy washed your star blanket," he said after clearing his throat. "It's- It's right on your bed, waiting for you to come home."
Jak winced beside them. He couldn't imagine someone waiting for him to come home. Had his "uncle" even lived long enough to realize he and Daxter hadn't come back? Had anyone held onto his bug collection, just in case he ever wandered back into the village? He doubted it.
Idly, painfully, he wondered if that Osmo guy held onto Daxter's stuff, hoping he'd come back to them.
Loud barking heralded the arrival of both Daxter and the crocadog. It bounded down the ramp in pursuit of a fly, with the ottsel hanging onto its back for dear life. Daxter just managed to steer it by the collar away from the edge of the mesa and toward Jak.
"Grab him before he flings me to my death!" Daxter screeched.
Jak whistled once and opened his arms. "C'mere, boy!"
The puppy yapped and leaped for the boy, skidding into his arms with scrabbling legs when it failed to stop. With a yelp, Daxter catapulted off his back and onto Jak's shoulder where he crouched with bristling fur. Immediately, Chopper planted his front paws on Jak’s chest and yipped before licking his face. Jak laughed and leaned back.
"Blech! Chopper! No baths!"
He scooped the puppy up and held him like a baby.
"Crazy dog."
Damas’s eyes moistened again, seeing his older son smile down at the crocadog. There was still a young boy in there, under all the pain and anger. There was still an inner child peering out, and Damas was resolved to gain that child's trust.
The pup sniffed the air and wriggled until Jak pushed him into a sitting position. Cocking his head, he sniffed at the man holding Short Master and began to paw at him. Who was this Big Spiky Man? He smelled like Short Master and Tall Master! Did he, perhaps, have Treats? Treats for a Very Good Boy?
He did!
Damas cracked a smile as Chopper began whining and pawing at the small satchel at his waist. He must have smelled the dried meat and fruit Damas usually carried whenever he left the city.
Well, the pup was no bird, certainly, but he was cute.
"Alright, alright," Damas sighed and dug in the satchel to find a bit of dried caprid. "Only if you've been good, little one."
"He's always good!" Jak said indignantly. "That's the whole point of dogs!"
Daxter narrowed his eyes at Jak. "That mutt has never been to obedience school a day in his life."
"So? Neither have I," Jak scoffed. "He doesn't need it! Right, Chop?"
Chopper proceeded to all but unhinge his jaw in an effort to eat the entire ration bag.
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