Chapter Text
Jak and Daxter bounce a couple of times before finally skidding to a stop on dusty metal, the heat is intense and there's definitely some chaffed hair on Daxter's tail. Jak looks around in silent bewilderment. Managing to hold onto just one small piece of the damned machine Keira hodge-podged together, Daxter stands up and tosses it away as hard and far as his little ottsel arms could throw it.
"Ok, I swear thats the last time I Ever EVER! Touch any stupid Precursor CRAP!" Daxter fumes, shaking his little orange fur covered fists at the sky, a direction usually reserved in addressing the Precursor's themselves.
"There he is! Move in." A group of heavily armored guards surround them, the soldier's are so uniform Daxter can't see any exit he can ottsel his way through between their legs, " Step away from the animal."
In an act of open defiance Daxter scrambles onto hus usual perch. His hardly used instincts are on edge being cornered so viciously like this, Jak's hackles would be raised too if he had any, Daxter does not like this situation at all.
I don't know where we are, we've got menacing looking weapons pointed at my muzzle, and now we're surrounded... Can anything ever be EASY!?!? Ok I can't go from below ...but I CAN go from above!
Daxter launches himself at a space between shoulder pads and long, tender, vulnerable ears. The unexpected push-off from Jak's shoulder sends the lemon/lime headed teen over the railing and down to the bumming streets below with a surprised but alive grunt. Daxter's smirk of victory, having gotten Jak out of the situation as well without even trying, swiftly turns into a grimace of pain as a Krimson Guard grabs him by his thick ottsel tail before he can stick out his tongue and say "Hasta Lavista Suckers".
The ring leader with no helmet was the despicable jerk that had grabbed him mid escape route, "Damn, the Barron wanted the boy... but this is a strange animal, perhaps it will provide a good sample for the Beast sect."
"HANDS OFF THE MERCHANDISE!", Daxter lunges up, using his already sore tail as a way to hall himself up, he tries to bite the hand that's got him hanging over the hard metal ground but it's covered in oil stained leather, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He stops and spits several times," Yuck, you hug your mother with those grimy mitts!?"
The ring-leader's eyes are surprised but he grins non-the-less with promised violence, only a few creatures other than humans had the ability to speak, and this was an unknown species that spoke rather well and dare he say 'snarkily', "Perhaps this creature is a bigger find than the boy..."
Daxter gulps, squirming in a panic to try and get away, the man known as Erol tosses the ottsel into a carrier bag his subordinate had retrieved for him, "JAAAAAAAAAA_*Muffle*!!!!!" Erol zips Daxter inside. A grin dripping with vile intent leers at the flailing bag.
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"JAAAAAAAAA-*Muffle*!!!!!!"
Jak looks up from the pile of wooden boxes that gently cushioned his fall, a couple of large splinters are digging under his skin but that is a mere irritant at this point. Dazedly he comes to the realization that his shoulder is too light. For the first time Jak speaks, voice hoarse from non-existent use and utter loss, "Daxter!"