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Love is War	By : grimreaperchibi Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 4213 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Jak & Daxter, nor the places, people, or objects within. I make no money writing this. Additional disclaimer within.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: I admit it. This was a shameless use of my talents and time to right a wrong that sorely pissed me off in-game. Why do all my favorite secondary characters get killed off?
Robin: Daxter always deserves loves, even when you want to kick his ass or smack his smart mouth. I think tough love was invented just for him. Hopefully, you'll forgive me my timeline messing after this point.
Amaronith: The young Widgit will be found and cared for, never fear. Just...not yet. Hold that thought for one more chapter, okay?
Additional Disclaimer: The lyrics used within are part of the fair use clause of copyright law and remain the property of the individual artists and recording companies to which they belong. Any misconstruing/mistyping of the lyrics is strictly the fault of the author. All lyrics are used here only for setting ambience.
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Chapter 9 – Let Me Hear You Scream (Ozzy Osbourne)
Jak hummed in appreciation as Daxter’s spine bowed with a pretty, breathy keen. Gods, he loved seeing the other like this—panting, skin flushed and shining with sweat, ears tipped down in pleasure, and lips bruised to the most brilliant shade possible through a combination of frantic kissing and being caught by those large, oddly sexy front teeth in an effort to hold back some noise. He flexed his hands again, slowly and firmly kneading the nearly white skin of his partner’s ass. This time, the hand working both of them missed its stride. Daxter shuddered, a little whine escaping from behind teeth once more anchored into his lower lip. Jak couldn’t resist leaning up and trailing his tongue over the abused spot, slipping inside that warm mouth when the other gasped. Their kiss swallowed the trembling moan that followed. Everything in Jak’s stomach tightened—oh yeah. He was enjoying this way too much.
Then again, what wasn’t there to enjoy? He had a sexy redhead naked and moaning his name in his lap. One he had invited to do as such instead of simply being caught up in his friend’s passion. It may have been Daxter’s long fingers now wrapped around their combined erections, but Jak was the one who had kissed first, touched first, coaxing them first out of their clothes and then those pale thighs to slide over his. Seated in a chair with long legs spread over his lap was hot in and of itself, but add in the way slim hips rocked against his and all those wonderfully wistful sounds, and he was ready to spend his entire day right there, watching Daxter slowly come undone. Absolutely nothing else seemed important anymore.
His hands kept absently kneading as his tongue fought against Daxter’s, fingers slowly creeping further back without notice. That squirmy warm body in his grasp certainly noticed, however, when said fingers slipped along the cleft, brushing against the tight ring of muscle back there. The mostly accidental touch brought a raw sound from lips ripped away from an intense kiss. The redhead trembled, as if unsure if he should press into or away from the touch. Jak solved that dilemma by very purposefully repeating the motion. The breathy keen came back as the other tried to shove himself back without actually losing any contact in the front. The arm that had kept him braced up lost its grip on the back of the chair and buckled, wrapping instead around the blond’s neck as the rest of the body collapsed down. Daxter’s incredibly flexible spine curved and before he knew it, Jak had latched onto his partner’s throat with his teeth.
Spurred on by the response, Jak continued to touch and tease. Even the gentlest of pressure seemed to incite a desperate response, leaving Daxter writhing against him in the most interesting of ways. The more he teased, the warmer those muscles became, eventually allowing the tip of one finger to penetrate. It retreated again almost immediately, though the effect was lasting. Daxter gasped sharply, hips jerking as the hand that had hitherto been rather relaxed around them suddenly jumped into overdrive. There was a reedy whine of Jak’s name that brought a flush of fresh arousal.
“Again,” he demanded, though it wasn’t exactly clear what he wanted again.
Daxter yowled, rocking back against the continued intrusion. “Yes! Jak~!”
The next time, Jak’s finger slipped in even further. That hot body clenched as Daxter choked back a scream. Jak groaned thickly into his friend’s neck as the redhead’s hot release covered both of them, so close himself. It was all he could do to give the other a few seconds to grab a breath before forcing those hips to move, growling, “Again.”
A shudder, a moan, and Daxter was moving, panting heavily around half formed pleas that never got much beyond the first syllable. The hand around them was now super slick, making it glide even faster than before. Jak resorted back to the possessive kneading, unwilling to risk injury despite wanting those noises even more. In short order, he was coming himself, teeth once more buried in the tender skin of Daxter’s neck.
At the hand tightening in his hair and a sound of discomfort, Jak pulled away. “Sorry…”
“No worries…” was the breathless reply. “Just a…a little more ta the right…if ya wanna do that…”
Jak kissed the dark red mark he’d left behind, absently working his way over to the indicated spot. “Here?” he asked, applying pressure much more kindly than before. A little shiver ran up Daxter’s spine right before he sort of just melted. Jak chuckled, shifting his arms up so that he was holding the other properly, settling into the warmth still radiating between them, content that everything was right in the world, if only for the moment.
Finally, Daxter shifted, groaning. “Holy damn… It’s hot when you get all assertive like that.” He made a little satisfied noise when their lips met for a slow, soft kiss. “You’ve been plannin’ this little move for a while, huh?”
It would have been a lie to say Jak had never thought of going further. In fact, a lot of thought had gone into the matter, leaving him distracted and uncomfortable in his pants more often than not. They’d had some downtime recently, so being preoccupied wasn’t much of a problem, but it certainly wasn’t helping anything either. He’d been caught staring a couple of times now, wondering how amenable his friend would be to taking things further, and what it would feel like to be physically connected like that. There were only two little, tiny problems with asking – he couldn’t control the amount of embarrassment he felt every time the idea popped into his head, and he had no way of knowing how Daxter would react. Specifically, how Daxter would react to losing the leading position.
All things considered, Jak felt like he’d reconnected to normalcy as well as someone in his situation could. Life wasn’t one aggressive confrontation after another anymore. He wasn’t constantly scared or angry. The nights without nightmares were slowly starting to increase while the days of descending into dark eco decreased. Feeling safe, no matter how marginally, was something he’d never expected to feel again, and ninety percent of all that was because of Daxter. If the redhead asked, there was very little Jak wouldn’t do for him. Leaving his body vulnerable as was required by the fundamentals of two men having intercourse was not one of them. Not anytime soon, at least. And after allowing, encouraging, his friend to lead them this far, suddenly demanding to be the dominating force seemed insulting.
Though, if that little display was anything to go by, maybe it wasn’t as out of line as he thought…
There was still time and he was feeling rather playful, so Jak only offered up a sly smile. “Maybe.”
The grin Daxter gave him was beautiful and infectious. “Maybe. Yeah. Sure. Well, maybe I think yer lyin’ through yer teeth.”
“Am I?” Jak challenged, grinning back. “And what makes you think that?”
“One, yer hands have been glued to my ass the entire mornin’, and two, they’re creepin’ back down now.” There was a playful swat as said hands made a quick, rough grab. “Point in case.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yer a bad liar, blondie.” Daxter kissed him again. “But I love ya anyway.”
Jak half opened his mouth to reply, but found his words lacking. So instead, he pulled his friend down and showed him. It seemed like a poor substitute. If anyone ever deserved to hear those words returned, it was Dax. They always inspired the same reaction regardless of when, where, or how they were spoken—a flutter in his stomach, a hard thump of his heart, and a suffusing warmth that eclipsed even the constant icy cold of dark eco. He might not have know what to do with them in the beginning, was only now realizing he didn’t have to do anything with them at all, but he was far and beyond that point now. Everything was in those three little words, everything important and meaningful and only his when Daxter said them, for once using fewer words than necessary. He wanted it to be like that for the redhead as well. Unfortunately, all of his attempts so far had felt lack luster or hollow. As important as it had become to give those words the weight of voice, Jak couldn’t seem to actually speak, once more relying on his actions to speak for him. It figured that the one time he desperately wanted to say something would be the one time he could say nothing at all.
“Yer thinkin’ too hard.” The breathy whisper against his ear sent a slight shiver down Jak’s spine even as other places began to warm again. Daxter shifted against him, bringing attention to the sticky mess they were currently covered in. “Don’t worry ‘bout it right now. I don’t wanna share attention with anythin’ else.” Teeth caught and nibbled along the edge of said ear, offering an easy distraction.
Jak relented, willingly letting his frustration go in favor of the wonderful things those teeth and tongue was doing. There were plenty of other things that were waiting in the winds to consume their attention. All things considered, they should be getting their asses in gear and high-tailing it over to the Stadium sooner than later. The Class One race was this evening. Keira had stressed the importance of being there early (even if the messages had been frost covered at best), but he found himself less than energetic about the prospect of spending most of his day in her garage. Especially when he had a hot, hard, and (soon to be) squirming reason to stay right where he was.
More than that was the nagging feeling that things were about to blow up in their faces. Dax had been saying for months now that Haven City was in its death throes. For the first time, Jak was inclined to agree. The drudgery of day to day life was taking on a panicked note. KG patrols were up, but their attention was obviously focused elsewhere. Sig had turned into a grim man with a mission no one else seemed to know, Krew was missing as often as he was found floating around, Vin had been voicing some quiet concerns about Kor (not directly, but the implication was clear), and even Torn had shown up one rain-drenched night with the vague warning of unrest. If this really was the beginning of the end, then he really had no intention of letting this opportunity go to waste.
He was just getting ready to pull the other back into a lip lock when Daxter slipped from his lap completely. “Nuh-uh,” the redhead said with a grin and a wag of his finger. “You had yer turn. Mine now, an’ I say we need a shower.” He leaned in close, purposefully palming Jak’ renewing erection. “Unless, ya know, yer not up for it.”
A hot, hard, wet squirming redhead instantly appealed to Jak’s attention. And was that a challenge he just heard? He snarled playfully, lunging forward at the same moment Daxter bolted. It wasn’t like there was much room to run or any place really to hide, so the chase didn’t last long, but they were both smiling and breathless with laughter when Jak claimed a victory kiss.
“So what happened to it bein’ my turn?” Daxter demanded with feigned petulance.
“You of all people should know better than to challenge me.” Jak hoisted the smaller form up into his arms despite the squeaking protests. “Besides,” he growled into a rapidly twitching ear, “I thought you liked it when I got assertive.”
“Just ‘cuz yer right doesn’t mean yer gonna win this argument.”
There was no way to really respond to that, so Jak let his friend win the war of words, kissing him in that slow, deliberate manner he’d become fond of when their relationship had just started. Unlike then, when Daxter had kept such a tight grip on himself, he pressed back with everything he was. That overwhelming affection he’d come to know as love poured out not only through the action, but also along their eco bond as well. Jak tried to return the feeling, only to become confused when Dax pulled away.
“S’okay. Don’t force yerself. I can wait to hear it.”
That hardly seemed fair, but really what in their lives had been? “You’d better,” Jak mumbled, pressing for another kiss and the heat of desire to ease the sudden hard pit in his stomach.
***
“So, uh…what’s plan B?”
They were a bit further than ‘B’ on the list of scrapped plans. It was more like ‘S’ now, for screwed over, which Krew had done a marvelous job of facilitating. And now, the only other person Jak trusted was gone, too. That’s why they’d headed to the Hip Hog once Ashelin had saved them from the Weapon’s Factory, to find Sig. If there was one person in all of Haven who knew what the crime lord’s final bet was, it would be the Wastelander. Only Sig had already gotten caught in the trap, and was now lost to the catacombs under the Port.
There wasn’t time to mourn, or be angry, or anything other than slightly frustrated. Metalhead Grunts were just the first wave an invasion force. It wouldn’t be long before the combat drones showed up and things went from worst to completely fucked. The Precursor Stone hadn’t been attached to the bomb that finished Krew, so that meant the Baron still had it somewhere. As long as he held it, there was still the possibility of him trying to crack it open, which would end much more than the war. And then there were the two artifacts, the Heart of Mar and the Time Map, still in their possession. Keira’s newly rebuilt Rift Rider needed both in order to get them the hell out of there—if they could ever find the Rift Gate itself.
Before the lift dumped them back out into the open air, Jak had already chosen his next course of action. There was nothing to be done about the Metalheads right now—the KG was just going to have to be enough to keep them at bay for the time being. The Stone and Praxis were easily the biggest threat, but also the hardest to pinpoint and do something about. For the moment, Ashelin was on their side, so maybe she could keep it from happening sooner than later. The Stadium might have been on the other side of the city, yet it was still the most viable plan available. If they could get the Precursor Artifacts to the garage, where they’d be protected by thick concrete and thicker metal, then the chances of someone surviving long enough to actually use them skyrocketed. Provided, of course, that Praxis didn’t get ahead of himself again by blowing everything to hell in a hand-basket first.
Plan B? Survive.
They got lucky, coming out of the Underport on the far side by some warehouses that never saw a lot of traffic to begin with and were therefore deserted now. They got luckier because not far away from their reentrance was a zoomer, unattended and in pretty decent shape. Daxter had it hotwired within seconds and then they were flying out at top speeds towards the Stadium Arcade. Getting there via the roads by the Palace may have been the faster route, but the Gardens always saw less traffic and provided a more direct route. And with the way Daxter could drive, all of the extra turns meant nothing on their timing.
Cramming the two of them onto the one person hover bike was an art they’d perfected, leaving Jak free to watch the landscape rush past without having to worry about falling off. It was an oddly removed moment, watching the Grunts run down the people unlucky enough to be caught outside. For once, the Krimzon Guard seemed to be doing their jobs, standing their ground as civilians fled past them. It was painfully obvious, however, that it wasn’t going to be enough. The Grunts, and Cloakers now, too, had infiltrated much further into the city than he had thought possible for the amount of time available. How were they coming in so quickly from that one tunnel?
They were halfway through the Western Bazaar when he felt the sudden change in the air. The constant background hum that he had long ago learned to ignore disappeared. A sharp, static-like shock rolled over them, causing the machine under them to shudder and dip down dangerously close to a group of Metalheads.
Daxter swore as he veered around the obstacle, shifting hover zones so that they didn’t actually crash into the ground. “What the—” Their comm. beeped, cutting off the rest of the question.
“The Shield Walls are down!” Vin screamed in panic before Jak could say anything himself. “I repeat, the Shield Walls are down! They’re down and I can’t get them back up! It’s sabotage!”
“Vin—”
“It was Kor! He’s done…something, I don’t know what, but I can’t fix it! I don’t know what to do!”
“Vin, just hang on—”
“—I always knew Metalheads would be the death of…oh, gods… They’re here. They’re here and I don’t know how long the—” The comm. cut out. Vin didn’t respond to any of their hails.
The zoomer skidded to a halt just as they entered the Arcade District. Daxter pushed the bag with the artifacts into Jak’s arms, jumping free from the vehicle and hurrying to another. “Go on, get outta here,” he yelled when Jak tried to follow. “Get that junk to Keira before we turn it to slag. Just follow the water—it’ll get you where ya need to go.” The zoomer started up and the redhead was in the seat, giving him a hard glare. “We already lost Sig. Metalheads ain’t getting’ anyone else. If I hurry, I can make it. I know I can.”
Jak wanted to argue. As much as he agreed with the intention, as bad as he’d feel doing nothing to prevent Vin’s death, he almost couldn’t stand the thought to letting Daxter out of his sight. Not with the rest of the world already falling apart. Per typical, Dax didn’t give him the opportunity to argue. The two zoomers were sidled up next to each other, and then the front of his shirt was grabbed, yanking him into a hard kiss before the words could form.
“I got the best reason in the world to come back right here,” Daxter said softly when they pulled apart.
There was no changing his friend’s mind, or rather, no time to see what it would take to break the resolve Jak saw in those bright blue eyes. “Put the earbud back in,” he finally said, almost choking on the words, “and take the morphgun. Ammo’s maxed—you shouldn’t have any issues defending the Power Station until I get there.” He grabbed Daxter’s shoulders when he started to move away. “Stay there.”
“I’ll stay as long as it’s safe ta stay.” He slung the weapon across his back. “You’ll be okay without this, right?”
“All I need is dark eco. The more Metalheads I kill, the more I’ll have. I’ll be fine.”
Daxter nodded absently, flinching as the lights around them flickered. “You’d better come find me,” he breathed into another kiss.
“You’d better be there when I do,” Jak replied as they separated.
A ghost of that cocky smile crossed the other’s face. “Orange Lightnin’ never disappoints.”
And then they were racing in opposite directions. Jak kept low to the water, swinging through the winding channel he was using as his own personal speedway to the Stadium. Overhead, he caught snippets of action—mostly the snarls of Grunts and blaster shots, sometimes the defiant scream of a life ending. Once, he heard a squad leader calling for backup. As much as he hated the KG, a part of him felt a twinge of sympathy. If the Metalhead hordes were already this thick this deep into the city, there was no backup to send. Everyone was on their own.
“Fuck, they’re everywhere,” he heard Daxter mutter, echoing his own thoughts as he roared into the large courtyard in front of the Stadium. Skull gems glittered across the ground like a perverse candle-light vigil to honour the dead. At least they all seemed to be lower-end ground types, simply occupying the space, rather than actively trying to take it over. He had a moment to consider the fact that maybe rushing headlong onto the scene like this was a bad idea, drawing undo attention to himself and the people he was trying to get to. Then he hit the throttle and plowed into an unsuspecting group, rolling clear as the zoomer exploded from the excess damage. The flaming ball of metal and limbs drew quite a bit of attention. Almost none of it seemed to be direct toward Jak as he sprinted for the garages.
It was both a relief and a worry to see the Stadium hallways so clean and unscarred. The only sound he could hear was the dull echo of his boots on the concrete. With all the bay doors firmly sealed, the area felt cramped, stifling. There were red alarm lights flashing everywhere, but for once, there was no accompanying alarm sounding. In short order, he reached the corridor’s end, hand slamming a little more forcefully then necessary against the call button.
“Keira, open the door.”
There was silence to greet the demand. Then, very faintly, a line of static. “…Jak?”
He tried not to notice how young or uncertain her voice sounded. “Yeah. Let me in.”
More static. “…can’t. …Stadium…automa—…lockdown. Power’s…cut…except basi—…going on?”
An ominous growl drew his attention back the way he’d come. “The Shield Walls broke and the Metalheads are invading. How can I get to you?”
“…maintenance…back a coup—…leads…service tunnel. …--ould bring you…lift area. …careful.”
Finding the correct door wasn’t that much of a trial. Getting it open was something entirely different. Without power, it as just another metal wall. A flimsy one as it turned out, when his patience snapped and he lashed out with a fist. He hadn’t done more than seriously dent it, but it was enough to give him a grip along one edge, allowing him to pull and warp the door out of its tracks. The next door, this one leading to the service tunnels, suffered a similar fate in short order. The red alarm lights were down here, too, the only thing keeping the seemingly endless tunnel from complete darkness. Hoping there was only one offshoot per garage, he counted back the number of bays he’d passed. The branch he finally decided was the right one did indeed lead to a large, pitch black area where an elevator could pass. That meant a ladder and an access hatch had to be close by, both of which were found after a few blind gropes.
He’d barely begun to heave against the hatch when it flew open, momentarily blinding him with the sudden light. Large hands clamped onto his shoulders, bodily hauling him out of the opening. Jak snarled and lashed out, his boots nailing the attacker in the shin at the same moment his elbow dug into a diaphragm. He was released just in time to catch the large torque wrench aimed for his head.
Keira blinked at him, then launched herself into his arms, all their previous disagreements and tension seemingly forgotten. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ve been so worried since the race…” She stepped back, looking sheepish. “Sorry about the wrench.”
Jak waved it off, turning to see who had grabbed him. Brutter was still sitting on the ground, a hand running the abused shin. “Sorry about that.”
The Lurker grinned up at him. “Is fine. You startle us as much as we startle you. Only fair.”
“Where’s Daxter?” Keira asked, looking around.
“Helping Vin.” Jak pulled the artifacts out and handed them to her. “We figured these would be safer with you than us.”
The items only distracted her for a second. “Father says the Rift Gate’s somewhere in the Metalhead nest. Brutter’s offered to lend us a balloon to get the Rider there, but…”
Jak shook his head. “The courtyard’s filled with Metalheads. I can’t defend everyone alone. Besides, you need to get out of here. I tore through two doors to get this far. The Metalheads won’t be far behind for long.”
“I’m not leaving,” Keira replied stubbornly. “The doors are all locked and we’ve got the only other entrance covered. This is there safest place we’ll find anywhere and I’m not just going to abandon the Rift Rider after all the work I’ve put into it. You go do what you need to do and we’ll figure out how to meet you later.”
“No worries,” Brutter interrupted, clapping a hand against Jak’s back hard enough to make him stumble a bit. “Lurker brothers come as we speak. Metal-Headers no find our tunnels. We defend girl and plant-man for you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You no ask; we tell. Our honour and privilege for Jak and Orangey brother.”
No sooner had the nickname been spoken than the constant muttered from the earbud turned into an ear-shattering squeal. Jak clawed the thing free, wincing as the feedback became even stronger, then turned to a harsh static before going silent. He tossed it without a second thought, pinning Brutter with a hard look. “You swear?”
A big hand thumped against an equally big chest. “My life before theirs.”
Jak dropped back through the hatch without a word more, Keira’s “be safe” echoing after him, but it wasn’t his safety that he was concerned with. A part of him felt bad about leaving so quickly. That part was drowned in anger when an intense wash of pain filtered through the eco bond, merging with the physical pain of the dark eco rushing to his command. The first three Metalheads he encountered never knew what hit them. The rest only saw Death coming for them. He tore through the ranks with single-minded purpose, absorbing the remnant energy as quickly as he used it, always moving forward.
It was impossible to say how he got from one corner of the city to the other or how quickly he’d done it. All Jak knew was that it was too far and it took too long. The area around the Power Station was a complete wreck. Everything was scorched or shredded, then blackened with gore. More than a few red suited corpses mixed in with the heaps of metal plates scattered around—all that remained of the Metalheads that had been slain. He picked his way across the slick causeway, attention caught between looking out for more enemies and the sinking feeling that he was already too late to do anything. The doorway to the Power Station was in ruins, ripped apart, twisted, and melted into an unrecognizable lump. The armour plating that earned Metalheads their name was piled high in the entrance, all bearing the scars of gunfire on them. Behind that was a bunch of broken stone and partially melted metalwork. It didn’t take much to reduce it the rest of the way to useless rubble.
“Not more,” a familiar voice moaned, followed quickly by the ricochet of a fired shot. “Stay back!”
“Fer the love a hell, Vin. You touch that gun one more time an’ I’m gonna—”
Jak hauled back on a large chunk of what might have been ceiling, revealing Daxter and Vin crammed up on the far side of the room. Both were bloody, disheveled, and soot covered, but very much alive and that was all that mattered. By the time Daxter had pulled the pistol from the engineer’s hands, Jak had found his way over to them. Everything else was momentarily forgotten as he pulled the other to him in a tight hug.
“Never again,” he growled, finally letting the eco go completely. “You’re not going off on your own again.”
“Fuck yeah, I’m not,” Daxter replied tiredly. “This hero business sucks.” He cringed. “Watch the arm…”
He pulled back, for the first time getting a good look at the injuries. The most serious was Dax’s arm, which was covered in burns already blistering and sloughing skin from hand to shoulder. There was blood dripping from one of his ears and there was a cut under one eye. An assortment of bruises and minor scratches rounded out the list. Vin was wearing his own set of burns, though they weren’t as bad. One of his legs was mauled pretty badly, as was one shoulder, and his clothes were in tatters from near misses, leaving his skin littered with abrasions.
The cuts and bruises, Jak could understand. But… “What the hell burned?”
Daxter coughed, looking elsewhere as Vin scrounged for the first aid supplies. His ears dropped to his shoulders as his cheeks turned redder than his hair. “Yeah… Peacemakers? They’re attracted ta metal. All kinds.”
It took a second for the implication to become clear. “You fired a Peacemaker round inside the Power Station?”
“The force was compounded by the eco energy already running rampant here,” Vin said. “Under normal circumstances, it would have been fine—not that I’d advise it anyway. But I was tearing apart the panels, trying to bypass whatever Kor set-up in the mainframe, so when he fired—”
“Hey!” Daxter snapped hotly. “I wouldn’ta fired it if someone hadn’t jumped the gun an’ tried ta shoot me!”
“I already apologized for that. Give me your arm.” Vin didn’t wait for compliance. He lifted Daxter’s burnt arm up into an angle and started pouring a viscous, faintly green concoction across the damaged area. Upon contact, the skin began to heal, the edges smoothing over and the swelling reducing dramatically. The tincture was spread over the entire area before being wrapped tightly. “Not the most concentrated stuff ever, but better than nothing. How’s it feel?”
The redhead swung his arm a bit. “I can move it; close enough.” He hauled the morphgun back up. “Before the light show interrupted stuff, there was a commotion.”
Vin nodded. “Kor wanted this place taken out before a meeting at the construction site. If you hurry, you might still be able to catch up with him. Just…ah…move the rock back in front of the door when you leave, will you? I don’t want anything coming back this way, if…uh…if you don’t mind.”
With a promise to come dig him back out as soon as things settled, the two of them sealed the Power Station back up. Compared to their earlier treks, getting to the construction site was frighteningly easy. The once bustling part of the city was absolutely still and devoid of life. Even the Metalheads seemed to have vanished from the area. Sirens still sounded uselessly, their noise more death knell than warning. They ran through it without pause, reaching the construction ground just in time to see what little remained of the Krimzon Guard and Baron Praxis face off against Kor—and lose as the man who had been the first to show them a kindness and appreciation became the abomination behind all of it.
Metal Kor tore the area apart looking for the Precursor Stone, but it appeared the Baron’s last bit of trickery worked out to their benefit (for once). Daxter went to work on freeing the Stone from the bomb while Jak stared down at the rapidly cooling corpse of his most hated person. Thunder pealed overhead, bringing with it a somber rain the blond barely noticed.
He tried to feel angry that his chance for revenge had been taken away. He tried to cobble together enough excess hate to at least shoot the already dead man. It felt like he should be able to do something, cry, scream, rend, anything to bring justice, vindication, closure to the trauma and scarring he’d suffer with for the rest of his life. At this point, however, it was more numbing to take in the destruction than anything else. He somehow couldn’t muster the emotion that had driven him this far. Loathe the man, despise his work, his methods, his mentality and the men who had sacrificed their humanity and lives for him, yes. Forever and always. But that driving, consuming enmity was more than no longer important, it was no longer there at all. Even on the brink of death, when Praxis had seen him as a weapon, a tool to be used for his end and nothing more, Jak still couldn’t find more than a muted disgust for the insane leader.
“Die by yourself,” he muttered, letting the last of the animosity wash away with the rain. “The rest of us got something worth living for.”
Daxter was standing behind him when he turned, the Stone in hand and that dangerous, manic grin on his face. “Like candy from a baby,” he said, twirling the item idly. “Ready to go hit big ugly where the sun don’t shine an’ the metal don’t cover?”
Jak let his own renegade smirk match his friend’s. “Yeah. Let’s go say thanks for all that help he’s given us.”
He never once looked back as they ran to find a transport.
***
Are you ready for the last fight?

Get ready with the war cry!

Let me hear you scream like you want it

Let me hear you yell like you mean it

If you’re going to go down, go loud, go strong, go proud

Go hot, go hard, or go home.

Let me hear you scream!
~Let Me Hear You Scream — Ozzy Osbourne~
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To be continued.
- 8
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Love is War