Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

*****************

"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!"

Chapter Text

Jak could barely see the vehicles up top, that had a weird familiarity, with the Krimson Guard. Half drove away but the other half...

Marched down to Jak's level, about a couple of yards from his current location, blocking his way from retrieving Daxter from the retreating vehicles. Out gunned, in a strange new place, and without that reassuring weight on his shoulder... Jak was anything but a happy camper. The residents around quickly disappeared in every direction, religiously avoiding getting in the scarlet uniformed bullies.

Looking around for a weapon to at least try to defend himself, he spotted a pathetic looking stand, yanked the metal pipe holding up some ragged fabric for a make-shift awning, and held fast against the smelly wall of a dark alley way.

An expected wave of Krimson Guards stamped by, having heard their noisy metal armor clinking away. What Jak had not expected, or heard, was a pair of hands with knives handy, inches away until one is pressing against his neck and the other is hovering with an ominous promise over the mid section of his spine.

"So Blondie... Why shouldn't I kick you out into the street and claim your bounty?" The harsh voice whispers into a long pointed ear.

"D-daxt-ter. Th-they... T-took Daxt-ter... I-I'm going t-to k-kill th-them." Jak chokes out, ragged and rough, forced to finally be put into use without Daxter to do the talking for him.

"That orange rat that they took? What? It a rare species, your pet, or just your preferred cuddle buddy for beddy-bye?" The voice chuckles harshly, the business end digging in more than it really should be.

"M-my fr-friend. Dax-ter, n-not pet. NEF-VER Pet!" Jak growls, garbled with a heavy emphasis on his vowles but understandable.

"You don't talk much huh, a guy like me can appreciate that. So how 'bout this. I let you go, and you work some jobs for me." The knives slink back just the slightest bit, a nudge at Jak's knee and he catches the drift, slowly turning to look at the man holding him at knife point, "Being with the organization that I'm working for, there's a small chance you'll see your rat... And you'll have the opportunity to beat some of the KG into a bloody pulp. Might even be able to snag him back if you're lucky."

Jak eyes the man cautiously, the man that was and is still threatening his capture and his life. The man had red clay dreadlocked hair with orange metal beads, a face only a mother could love even before the unusual blue circular tattoos marring his frown-creased face... Who's tattoos looked increasingly like the ones that head guard that caught Daxter had. But before he even thought of trying to start a fight and getting himself impaled by a metallic piece of rust, he saw a glimmer of good in the man's blue eyes, and a desperate gleam that he knew he probably had in his own blue orbs.

I need to be smart. This isn't just my life on the line where I can toss Daxter out of the way of danger... I have to be careful, I'm probably-no I'm the only hope of getting him back. Keira and Samos could be anywhere, but they're looking out in the open, probably not in a cell. And if I don't get him out right we could both be caught... Man, this is usually where Daxter comes in handy.

A grunt of pain shocks Jak out of his thoughts, the man is clutching an area of red that had blended in almost too well with his armor. He looks up and grimaces with the slightest bit of red peeking onto his lips, "Kind of need to decide quick whether to kick you out of the alley as a scapegoat or let you help me back. A one word answer will suffice."

Jak nods a yes and would have grinned at the man's disgusted, pain filled sigh at the sass.

But Jak didn't have time for smiles and wisecracks right now. Those went with Daxter wherever the red armored assholes had spirited his best friend.

***********

Daxter breaths frantically, hyperventilating in the bag rather than calming down, and whimpering in terror.

Come on Jak! I shouldn't be that hard to find! I'm orange, covered in fur, and constantly jabbering...in a bag that smells like old man green put his dirty laundry in, eeuuuuyuck. Get that nasty thought out of my hea-

Lost in his musings, Daxter doesn't hear the bag being unzipped until the bright florescent Eco fueled lights blind him and then he's sprawled out on the floor of a dirty metal cage.

"Man, is it bad I actually miss wood? Getting tossed onto cold nasty metal is starting to get old and quick with the constant burning of my luxurious pelt!" Daxter grouses aloud.

A creepy awkward laugh stops his whining rant from continuing, turning, he's eye to eye with a bald man wearing a rather extravagant coat in a setting that hits him in the snoz hard and fast. Daxter gags at the smell of animal piss, feces, and fear.

Oh yeah, this place just earned twenty more brownie points of 'GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE JAK!' It takes a lot to beat Samos's score but, these people are try-hards, I'll give them that.

"So, this is the little Beastie that distracted Erol from grabbing the boy..." The man leers closer. Have in mind Daxter never truly felt naked in this form, what with all the fur, but that stare was just ten kinds a creepy Daxter did not want looking at him. He wraps his tail around himself in a first attempt at modesty, "I might have a fondness for you already little one. Do not disappoint."

Daxter did not like that thinly veiled promise, he's slightly shaking a little in his cage. Daxter was all for bravado and fluffing himself up in stories he tells, but that's when Jak is around to pound anyone that looks at him the wrong way. Jak IS his confidence. But Jak isn't here now.

The view from his cage veers up and down, now lifted up in the air and constantly softly banging against the man's legs, "Tell Barron Praxis I'm going to start on Project Enlightened with the creature Erol drug in. It'll be good to rub it in that smug racer's face that I've got things going swimmingly here while he's drowning like the fool he is." A mutter from the unseen assistant and then came the harsh rocking of the cage.

No wonder it reeks in here, being manhandled like this would make JAK hurl.

The cage jars to a stop, being set down on a table with a history of violence if the random unhygienic dried blood and vomit from animals past was anything to go by.

As soon as he opens this door I'm out of here like that drugged up chisler's muse.

The door opens and Daxter jumps out, with a new addition choking him. A metal wire is wrapped around his neck and leading him to some straps on the table. Being forced to lay down or hanging himself are his choices and Daxter liked life a little too much to just give in like this.

By the time the straps were on and in place he was lying on his back with his arms, legs, and tail spread out. The man from before was fiddling with some pointy looking objects that he didn't want to touch with a 9-foot-pole.

"OK, all set. We're just going to take a couple of samples for today to try and identify the species Barron. Can't be sloppy and not do our homework on what could be the answer to our metalhead problem."

Questioning the man's sanity since he was talking to himself, Daxter jumped when he heard a voice behind his head, too far back to see without breaking something these guys probably weren't going to fix.

"This better show SOME results or I'm not just going to cut your funding, I'm going to cut you out of Haven City entirely Count Veger." The voice, Barron Daxter reminds himself.

"I won't Barron. Unlike that abomination Erol is trying to create, this will be the true miracle that Haven City needs." Veger reassures, hard determination in his eyes.

"I support you BOTH Veger, you forget that light Eco is actually harder to find than dark, the results better add up to the cost. Or your little experiments are going to be fed to Erol's." Barron barks, a fizzle of electricity advertises the end of the conversation.

"Well little one, " Veger says wistfully, needle poised over Daxter's arm, "You heard him yourself... So stay alive through this or you're going to feel a great deal more pain if you survive for scaring me so..."

Daxter whimpers, Veger tuts, "None of that now. You're an animal, you don't have feelings besides the physical. Never fret, once this is over though you'll be thanking me, reaching enlightenment is a hard path to follow. Everything you do now will pave the way for others that qualify to be enlightened."

Veger's honey coated venom doesn't qualm his stomach as the needle digs in, pulling out more blood than he's ever been comfortable losing in this form if he was ever comfortable losing blood in the first place.

Anytime now Jak... Frankenstein over here is giving me the willies.

Chapter Text

Torn, the man who Jak helped hobble and smuggle into the so called Water Slum of Haven City, works directly under the head of the Underground, the Shadow. By what little Torn reveals Jak can respect the Shadow and his side of this fight. Apparently the king of Haven City was kicked out, his heir being circulated around the Underground, and the main instigator of the King's banishment became the king in his stead. Barron Praxis had made many bad moves which hurt the people he was supposedly fighting for... The Underground knew differently though.

Having successfully taken Torn to the bunker without a single mishap, as strange as that seems with him being who he is, Torn gave him three trials he would have to pass in order to meet this Shadow.

The higher up I go the better the chance I have of getting Daxter out and finding Keira and Samos. And I'm not going in until it's fool-proof, Daxter would kill me if I leaped before I looked... Or, Jak cringed at the possibility, he could be dead already...

"Your first trial is to retrieve the Bastard's banner from the top of the old ruins tower without bringing a herd of rampant KG after you." Torn rasps, having just gotten his ears chewed out for even moving after being stitched up.

Jak has a determined look on his face but the woman who sewed patch-work over there together again mistakes it for suspicion, "Don't worry big guy, you're not going in with just the guns you were born with, here!" The blond tosses a gun to Jak with an ease Jak is surprised her dainty slim wrists can even touch without breaking.

"That's a morph gun. Take good care of my baby now, I just made her a day ago, and she hasn't been used for more than a magazine. You better hurry while you can though, the security increases the darker it gets outside." She warns with a warm smile.

"Daxter an-and Ke-i-ira wi-will li-like yo-u." Jak fumbles, words still twisting his tongue in a way he will never quite feel comfortable with.

The woman's grin only grows, "I think I'll like them too if they're as nice as you are kid, my name's Tess. If you ever want to practice your aim I work at a place I can slip you in to use it with a slightly less chance of getting noticed by the patrolling KG. Plus I'm working on mod upgrades for that new model so I might have some excess I'd be willing to give you for favors." The last part said with a wink.

The action reminds him so much of Daxter he has to look away. Resolve strengthening.

I'm going to get you back Daxter... If it's the last thing I do. Just hold on buddy.

******************

Daxter couldn't sleep in this cacaphony madness, the animals around him are going ape-shit with the constant noises and pacing, Daxter knows it's a sign for something but he doesn't know what.

A small little black dot bounces by his cage, Daxter hears the tiny scrape of insect legs making contact with the ground. Daxter holds out a hand in curiosity and the little black dot hops on. Daxter cradles it and really looks at it. It's a little tiny thing most wouldn't even look twice at in this room. The insect circles a spot and just curls up in his hand.

How many animals that have died have you played on? Have held you like this? Man I'm getting weirdly sentimental in my boredom. I guess I can take you with me when Jak gets me out... If he's not dead yet... GET THAT THOUGHT OUT OF YOUR FREAKY FUZZY HEAD! He's alive. And he's coming to get me, but him being his silent self he's probably gathering a gaggle of friends to help. Or maybe he's already forgotten about you, probably found a nice babe and ditched the annoying weight off his shoulder without trying to be rude... No, Jak wouldn't do that, he's not like that, Jak is a frickin saint. He'd help a fly out of a spider's web for precursor's sake. Stop being a downer just because you don't know what he's doing, just because you're not with him right now.

Daxter falls asleep to the steady near silent beat of the insect's heart beat with his thoughts, face twisting in a nightmare. Hands grab him from the cage and it turns out his nightmares are quickly coming true as the gloved digits inject a glowing white liquid into his veins. His blood freezes and for the first time his voice doesn't work, doesn't let him scream from the sub-zero frostbite spreading through his arm and then suddenly through his whole body having hit his heart. His body becomes ice and he can't move, mouth open with no air coming out and eyes bugging out, tears should be streaming out but they've evaporated into frost.

His body is frozen, muscles constricted and unmoving, quickly aching. It takes hours for warmth to return to his body, slow and sluggish. But when the agony dissipates and he can move again he realizes, as he's sees the insect, that it had been jumping over his heart repeatedly, probably since he'd been injected.

"Well... That's one way to play freeze out I never want to play again." Daxter whispers, shivers raking his body, even with all his fur he has to resort to rubbing numb body parts to bring feeling and circulation back into his being.

"Oh but you will little one, " Daxter jumps so hard he bangs into the metal bars and feels the bruises forming under his fur for his trouble. Erol steps forward from the shadows like your stereotypical evil villain, Daxter cringes at the bad timing, "Your one of the lucky ones. Typically those who get their first treatment die from shock, I knew you were special when I saw you. But you were frozen for so long I almost gave up hope... And you remember my promise right?"

Daxter gulps but puffs out his chest anyway, "You try having that shit pumped into you and not dying... And we'll see who's worrying more when that shit freezes you so much you can't even breath."

Erol's lip lifts in a snarl, "Well it probably wasn't too bad since you're talking about it and not an ice cube shivering in the corner... So let's give you your next one earlier than I was going to since you're so adamant about me trying my own treatments I'll have to speed along the animal trials faster so I can get to the human trials and begin making the finishing product rat."

Erol doesn't see the glowing white eyes glaring death into his back as he walks away to get the next injection. It only gets worse from here.

Chapter Text

Daxter sleeps and eats as much as he can these days, the injections are exhausting him and quite literally wearing him thin around the inside. Samos the kitchen exhile made better gruel than this, sand and salt water tasted better than this... Daxter doesn't even think what he's drinking ever WAS water, if it even is. But after a few complaints about the less than stellar cage-service and a few more injections to try and shut his muzzle, he knew he'd have to deal with it for now. But when I get out of here these ugly-ass nurses are going to get the smack down by yours truly.

Words are harder to come by now too. The only thing worth talking to besides Tik, his faithful small, fuzy, and warm sidekick, wasn't here. And it wasn't the same, sure Daxter had grown attached to Tik, but Tik was silent by all accounts. OK Tik lifting his leg up was a sign that he needed to piss, and other such croca-dog like actions had their universal meanings but everything else was something you'd get from a pet, it wasn't in depth, just simple one word responses. Jak on the other hand... Everyone thinks I'm the blabbermouth of this duo but Jak never stops talking. While I have to gather breath in my lungs to say my two cents, Jak's life story is out in the open, broadcasted like a lighthouse beacon. Forget wearing your heart on your sleeve...Jak's eyes are books that have an infinity amount of pages. Windows to the soul doesn't even sum up Jak's talkative blues.

Daxter sighs into his chest fluff, his fur weighs more than he does now, any slimmer and he'd be able to wiggle through the bars. Daxter's eyes widen in realization, flooring him in the gut.

What if they caught him? What if it's not a matter of want but a matter of unable? He could be in that other experiment Erol was dissing a few days back... If he can't get out then I'm the only hope for both of us...

Squaring his shoulders, Daxter examines his cage for any weak or rusting parts of his cage for what must be the billionth time.

Come on Daxter, not only is your hide on the line but Jak's is too... Jak...

Daxter huffs, what little h2o his body has leaks from his eyes, he angrily wipes them away, "Come on Daxter, you got this. Jak is countin' on yah. He's never disappointed you... Well besides the whole ottsel dark Eco bs, but that technically wasn't even his fault...You gotta free yourself... And then you gotta free Jak."

Daxter eyes the biggest square hole and determinedly wriggles his head through, "OK, since I can fit my head through the other parts should be easy squeezy... Wait, was that about ottsel's or cats?"

Daxter ignores his own questionable memory and manages to get his upper body through without further delay. His hips pinch as the go through, Daxter uses what little muscle he has left in his arms to push his body out, and once his legs touch the just as cold metal table's surface he gently curls his tail out no problem.

Daxter's eyes gleam in glee, doing a little victory dance on the creepy table. The sound of a door squeaking open has him tripping over his feet for a moment, scampering off the table in a mad rush to find a place to hide.

He spots an air shaft just above one of the dangerously stacked tower of cages filled with carnivorous and starved looking creatures. Daxter gulps but the sound of shoes on metal tapping down the hall have his feet moving forward, an imaginary Jak nudging him forward with an insistent nod.

I really hope I'm not gonna regret this...

Avoiding his fuzzy toes and fingers getting bitten off or his tail being caught by ravenous sharp-teeth wanting a literal piece of him. The door opens just as he reaches the top, tap dancing to keep the jumping purple lurker-dog from getting a mouthful of orange ottsel feet.

Erol goes to Daxter's cage with the intent of administering his now DAILY dosage of glowing white asphyxiation inducing death. But, seeing as there is no sickly orange fur ball to give it to, he screams for the whole 18th level to be locked down.

Daxter grins a smug little grin, all teeth with just that little bit of mischief in his eyes that Samos declared was trouble from day one.

Noise to cover me opening the air vent? Check. Where to get out of this precursor damned place? Double check.

Daxter jumps up and into the vent with some trouble, his legs a bit weaker after a couple of days of just laying down or sitting in the stupid metal cage, he heaves for breath and slouches against the metal once he pops the vent cover back into place.

If I had waited much long I probably wouldn't have been able to climb that stupid stack of ottsel eaters... Woo boy, that put some aches in my legs I don't ever want to remember.

Daxter looks down the dusty vent in a tired huff of excitement.

Well, suck it up buttercup... You've got 17 levels to go up. And if they're smart enough to have this many levels they're smart enough to eventually check the vents. So hup to it.

Daxter gets up with a groan and a few painful cracks of his spine. Tik, having been disturbed by Daxter's sudden movement bounces off and down the vent after Daxter.

Daxter hobbles on two legs down a few turns, and digs his claws around the metal bolts of a shaft, slowly making progress up.

I'm coming for you big guy.

***************

The Krimson guard were nothing compared to lurkers now that he had a weapon. But something was weird about Haven City. There had been a creepy black bug or two that looked like tiny cousins next to the giant ones that flew out of that precursor gate a few days ago. And then it hit him, Eco had been a universal constant along with Samos, Keira, his uncle, and Daxter... But there was scarcely any here, let alone an amount that he could use.

Those bugs remind me of something else... They remind me of Maia and Gal... Maybe this is what happens when dark Eco touches bugs? But where could that precursor damned ooze be hidden in a city this corrupt?

Growling with unease he stomps to the top. When he took the stupid flag from the tower, leaving it in a bigger pile of rubble than it was when he first got there, to Torn, he had expected something, ANYTHING, that could be useful.

What he got was a reluctant huff, a new errand, and a shooing wave of a dismissve hand. Jak was furious, but he knew when to play nice, so he was going to be the undergrounds water boy just this once... And if Torn didn't give him SOMETHING then he was going to have to worry about something-someone- worse than the KG and whoever the hell Barron Praxis is. Jak has the patience of a saint but he wasn't going to be used.

I'm not giving up on you Dax... I'm going to find you.