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Rule 39	By : grimreaperchibi Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 3977 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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A/N: I really need to stop trying to post things this late in the night... Bad things happen, people. Bad, stupid, moronic things.
Xionamine: No fear. I will continue working on this for as long as Robin wants me to or until it's done, whichever comes first. We're trying to post this in some semblance of order, so sometimes one of us is waiting on the other. We'll get there...eventually.
Robin: I think you've already had enough mushrooms. And if you're eating the silvery ones, how come you're not sharing?
HORSEBIRD: It's always nice to see someone react passionately to my work, even if it is with passionate violence. It's not as dramatic as you described (and that's saying a lot coming from the drama neko over here), but there are reasons as to why Razer is acting the way he is. Hopefully when they're all fully revealed, they'll stand up to the scrutiny. Otherwise, feel free to swing away.
Dove_the_Unoriginal: I'm glad you're enjoying the ride. I'm digging the whole backwards romance thing myself, actually--I've never done it before. And I'm sorry to disappont, but GT wasn't the gifter. You'll just have to wait to find out who it really was.
Amaronith: Goosebumps are good. Means I'm doing something right.
Donalgraeme: *fist bump* You totally made my month. Thank you.
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Rule #37: If it seems like someone’s out to get you, they are.
For about the thousandth time, Razer told himself this was beyond a bad idea. He still shifted his car into park, killed the engine, and got out without bothering to take his keys. He wasn’t going to be there long enough to worry about the no parking sign and since he wasn’t planning to leave the vehicle at any point anyway, having the keys in his pocket was just one more thing for his nervous fingers to fidget with. He took out a cigarette instead as he leaned against the side panel, pulling the collar of his coat tighter against his neck. Winter weather had wasted no time rolling in now that Halloween was over. Both the Sunday and Monday after had been particularly miserable gray days with blustering winds and icy edges, but not a flake of snow. Yet, at least. It was really only a matter of time before the first flurry hit and then everything would be buried under three feet of white until March. Today wasn’t exactly clear, the sky a uniform silver from horizon to visible horizon, although the wind had stopped howling, which made a vast improvement in the overall temperature.
He checked his watch. Football practice had been ending when he pulled up. Between showering, changing, and whatever last minute pep-talk the coach wanted to give, Razer figured it would take twenty minutes or so for Phoenix to exit the building. There was eighteen left to decide if he really wanted to do this or not.
Things had been strained since Halloween. Specifically, since the day after and he was the one strained, not his roommate. True to his word, Razer had sought out both Daxter and Jak in order to apologize. Said apology had been accepted, but neither had seemed to believe it was sincere and there was nothing more that could be done to prove it was. So he took every precaution to simply stay out of their way in an attempt to make sure there were no further hostlities. Life wasn’t comfortable between all of them, probably wouldn’t be for a while, but it was moving forward.
Added to that was the stress that, for reasons he’d rather not fathom, Phoenix had accepted and moved beyond their own altercation that past Saturday morning as well. In fact, the only thing that kept coming up at all was amazement over his skill at handling a knife, which was usually followed up with a request for further demonstration (a request he had hitherto denied or ignored). The lack of, well, anything other than acceptance wasn’t something he was prepared to deal with. Razer had thought for sure that crack in his control would end things between them—experience told him as much. He needed to stop relying on experience when it came to his roommate, because the idiot boy always seemed to do the exact opposite. Instead of following through with a similar tirade to the one he’d managed to inspire in Daxter, which was the expected result, Phoenix had defended him from his own accusations. Kissed him like nothing else could matter more. Said he belonged to him.
That last one more than anything gave Razer a headache. He honestly couldn’t tell if the other had been joking or if it was serious, though in the end it mattered little, he supposed. The effect was the same, making his heart thump hard as his stomach dropped. Others had claimed to be in love with him, but he’d only ever taken one of them seriously. Anything that attempted to be more than a one night stand invariably fell apart not long after starting. There had been three or four who managed the whole casual sex partner thing well and all of them had wanted nothing more than a hot lay from him. He’d certainly liked them enough to sleep with them, there just hadn’t been much else behind it.
He didn’t believe that anymore when it came to Phoenix. Somehow, despite everything that told him it wasn’t worth it, he was coming to care about his roommate as more than he should. If that statement about belonging could be taken seriously, then things were getting out of hand and something needed to be dealt with. If it was a joke, then it was a cruel one that would serve as a good reminder as to why he didn’t get involved in the first place. Razer wasn’t sure which outcome he was more hopeful for.
Which is why he was currently waiting outside the stadium for the object of his consternation to appear. Because he needed to know the depths of his own feelings, know if he was simply becoming possessive of an object or if he’d already crossed that unforgivable line of true affection. There was no plan beyond figuring that out, so he was giving himself a buffer. One of the local art galleries was hosting an exhibit called “The Future that Never Was” that a steampunk fanboy like Phoenix would probably find fascinating. Out in public, on neutral territory, he could focus on finding his answers while the other was suitably distracted with something he obviously enjoyed. There’d be time and space to deal with whatever was found.
The clatter of steel doors and the drone of voices drew Razer’s focus up. There was still sixteen minutes to go, so he didn’t hold any hope that it was the one he was waiting for. He completely lost interest when it became apparent that the exiting group was part of the cheer squad. Their twittering had the high tone of anticipation, something reminiscent to the tone most of the school currently carried. This coming Saturday was the first game of the playoffs, after all, and the first real chance Haven University had at getting anywhere in them. The noise was dismissed as he once more checked his watch and debated leaving before he started, only to have his attention jerk up moments later, the core knot of the squad now in front of him, demanding attention.
There was a swell of panic. It was that stupid frat party all over again, only worse because none of them were drunk and they had banded together. Then their obvious leader put a fist on her cocked hip, pursed her lips in a practiced pout and said, “Don’t you know it’s not nice to ignore a lady who’s speaking to you?”
He recognized her immediately. She was the bottle blond Venus who’d attempt to impale his foot with her stiletto heels after being told twice that she had nothing he wanted. She was still blond, still wore too much make-up, and was still as artificial as a mannequin, but not wearing heels that would threaten damage to his toes should she find him offensive again.
“Where I come from, a lady is distinguished by her bloodlines, not her gender,” he replied evenly. And before she got any ideas, he added, “Nor does she have to demand anything in order to gain attention.”
False lashes fluttered in surprise as the subtle rebuke settled in. She lifted her nose and tried to stare down at him. He’d seen others do better from across the room sitting down. “You obviously have no idea who I am.”
“Nor do you know me and that is a situation I have no desire to change.”
“You room with Phoenix, right?” one of the other girls chimed in.
“And you helped 3W win the Homecoming Race,” another said.
“You’re the German exchange student that helps out occasionally in the theater department,” came from the other side. Then they were all talking.
“Oh, the one who helps paints the set pieces?”
“Yeah! He did those roses last spring. They looked so real!”
“Isn’t he dating someone there?”
“I think it’s what’s-her-name, the costume bitch.”
“I thought they were siblings.”
“No way! Have you seen the way they kiss?”
That was a disturbing amount of information, and misinformation, to learn these girls knew. He wasn’t one to try and cover up his actions, but he also didn’t go out of his way to advertize, either. It was rather discomforting to know the rumor mill had at some point assimilated him without his knowledge. Did Rayn know people thought they were dating? More to the point, would she laugh or try to kill him if he told her? The six followers continued to argue amongst themselves over various other things he may or may not have been involved in. He remained focused on their leader, who seemed to get smugger with each passing second.
“You were the race car driver at Lambda Iota Tau’s party last weekend; the one in the red and black suit with the flames across the arms and back.” It was said innocently enough. The intention and effect were anything but. There was a collective gasp before the chittering took a mad dash off in the opposite direction. Apparently his exploits of that night had been passed around, instantly changing the tone from admiring to something slightly less than hostile.
“Then you already know I have no patience for people who waste my time,” he cut in before they could work themselves into a communal righteous indignation. “Get to the point, or go away, though I’d much prefer just the latter.”
“You are Phoenix’s roommate, right?”
“Roommate, yes,” Razer confirmed. “Keeper, no. If this is a concern for him, talk to him.”
Again, the other girls jumped in. “But that means you know who his girlfriend is.”
“Or if he’s sleeping with someone.”
“He flirts all the time, but he’s always too busy to do more than talk.”
“Always says he has someone waiting for him.”
“If anyone knows who she is, it’s you.”
“Well, I’m terribly sorry to inform you that as I could care less about whom he sleeps with, I have no name or description to give you.” Even if his own heart gave an odd hitch at the small thought that someone might be himself.
“But you have to know!” was the immediate whine from most of the group. “Don’t guys talk about that stuff all the time?”
“Some. Not all. Not me.” Razer crushed his finished cigarette with more force that was truly needed. “And even if I did know, I’d hardly share that information. Last time I checked, what consenting adults did in their beds was no one’s business but their own.”
“Don’t you think you’re getting a little too worked up about this?” Again, there was that false innocence that twisted the words into a thinly veiled threat. The head cheerleader even had the balls to smile at him. “We’re just curious.”
Curious the same way sharks were curious when blood hit the water. He knew what they wanted, what they were looking for, and how they’d use it. He could have lied, given them a false, generic description and let them run themselves ragged trying to pinpoint said nonexistent person. It just wouldn’t have stopped there. They’d harass every girl vaguely matching that description, bully and terrorize the unlucky target for something he’d said to get them off his back. Few people deserved that intentionally and fewer still unintentionally. More than that, however, was the simple desire to deny these carrion eaters. Yes, it was going to draw the conflict out, have them harping at him until it finally became clear he wasn’t going to do anything for them. In the end, however, he’d have the pleasure of shutting them down.
“And just for a cordial visit, I’m sure. Much like the one we’re having now, hm?” He smiled coldly. “Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps there is no one else? Flirting is a somewhat natural reaction of his, regardless of whom he’s speaking to. Saying he has someone waiting may merely be his way of escaping you.”
The lead girl’s eyes flashed angrily, but her tone barely hardened. “You sound jealous. Your own girlfriend not putting out, or do you just feel inadequate next to him?”
“My sex drive is well sated, thank you, and I am more than secure enough in my masculinity to have no need to compare dick size with every other man I interact with.” He leaned forward a bit and added smugly, “Though for the record, I am bigger.”
“So much for security.”
“Says the one in search of a conquest. Is that how you assign your self-worth? Your level of maturity? Or is that just the power that keeps you in charge, the awe of the sheer number of boys who fall to this practiced femininity? Do any of them know that come the morning after, those fawning sycophants you glamoured are just as eager to leave you as you are to leave them?” She didn’t have a retort for that, though her face was slowly darkening. It wasn’t going to end well, but he pushed nonetheless. “You’ve used your charms to take what you think is yours to take from those who lack the experience to know better. And it’s gotten you far, but no further. Not when your supposedly superior wiles fail so miserably to bring one slightly obtuse freshman to his knees before you in supplication to a beauty that doesn’t exist—”
Because he was watching for it, he knew the moment he’d crossed the line. The slap across the face still caught him slightly unaware. She had moved faster than he’d given her credit for; there had been no haul back, no dramatic trembling, no half-assed attempt to be intimidating or pathetic before striking. Her hand simply connected solidly with his cheek with enough force behind it to jerk his head to the side. The sting radiated out immediately before turning to a dull throb. He was probably going to support a decent bruise from it when everything was said and done. He refused to touch or acknowledge it as he settled his gaze on her again.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she snarled, fully transformed from goddess to gorgon in her livid anger. “So what if I use men to get what I want? If they’re dumb enough to give it to me, then why shouldn’t I take it? Men do it all the time and call it a game.”
“If someone is stupid enough to think a ride between your legs is worth it, then it’s their decision to make, no matter how poor it may be,” Razer countered, meeting the hot rage with his cold condescension. “But Phoenix isn’t giving you anything, is he, and you can’t stand that fact. Can’t have that crack in the façade that says you are not as flawless as you want to believe. This isn’t about taking what someone is giving, it’s just about satisfying your ego. Which is why someone like you will never be able to manipulate your way into his bed—because he’s honest about what he does and doesn’t want. And he doesn’t want you.”
Considering how hard he’d already pushed her, Razer had expected that to send her on her way. She was staring instead and there was something wrong with the look on her face. She was still angry, but it was under something resembling shocked astonishment, not over it. He didn’t have to wait long to figure out where her thoughts were leading. “Oh. My. God.” She gave a small half-laugh, slightly hysterical and more than a little demented. “You’re the girlfriend.”
“Excuse me?” he snapped back.
“Oh, it makes so much sense now,” she continued, malicious and almost gleeful in her inadvertent discovery. “That’s why you ran onto the field for Homecoming, why you came to the Halloween party, why you’re fighting so hard for him now. You fell to his charms too, didn’t you? You’re in love with Phoenix.”
“Is your world really so fragile that the only reason you can conceive for someone not showing an interest in you is that they must be gay?” he asked blankly.
“So you don’t deny it. It must make everything so convenient to be roommates; no one would ever be the wiser to a tryst between two men who had to share their space with one another anyway. And if it’s going to happen anywhere, it’s going to happen in a college dorm room. Wouldn’t be the first time a good looking man in need went with what was available to him. It’s so much easier than constantly having to chuck the unwanted party out of the room in order to relieve a little stress.” This time, Razer was the one without anything to say. He didn’t trust anything he could say at this point to not be further construed to her own ends. However, his silence was taken as proof of vindication and she continued. “It has to be so frustrating, to be so close to something you want and never be able to really touch it, never able to claim it. You want him so badly, but you know you’ll never be able to have him. You’re just a fling, a temporary distraction, so you cling like a starving leech to him, because you know it’s only a matter of time before he drops you and moves on to someone more interesting. Or someone who’s just better at sex. How disgusting and pathetic. He deserves better than you.”
The continued jabs at his masculinity and prowess might have irked him as some previous point. He was currently too preoccupied with a sudden flash of insight to truly care about it, however. This was the second time in almost as many days that he’d been accused of being unworthy of his roommate. He finally understood why the observation pissed him off.
That was the truth that wormed under his skin, itching and bleeding no matter how he tried to scratch it out. He didn’t deserve to be with someone like Phoenix. He never would. There were too many things defective about him and the way he interacted with the world, too much scar tissue left behind from those lessons that had to be beaten into him to learn. Though it had been completely accidental, he knew Daxter’s ravings were right. Phoenix was exceptionally intelligent and sooner than later, he’d grow tired of dealing with the malfunctions of Razer’s personality. The novelty of a male lover would fade, as the cheerleader had unwittingly suggested. And just as he had at the party, Phoenix would flutter on to the next exciting thing, perhaps remembering from time to time their few months together, though who knew if any of it would be recalled fondly. Until now, Razer had resigned himself to remaining alone, telling himself it was better that way for everyone. It was a choice he made because the other option wasn’t one that had ever been worth fighting for. Now it didn’t matter how hard he fought, he was going to lose anyway, and the thought of being alone because of it was painful and depressing.
And there was his answer to the depths of his own feelings—he had fallen at least a little bit in love with the idiot. Despite trying to keep everything in the infatuation stage, it had evolved into something more somewhere along the way. He made a half-hearted attempt to think back to when that slight shift might have happened. Maybe sometime around mid-terms, or perhaps a little later. When it started wasn’t all that important. What mattered was that he was now an obstacle, if not blatantly a threat, to Phoenix’s standing. Razer didn’t care what the rest of the school thought about him. He was willing to take the punches because of who he was and how he chose to live. But his roommate still had options, still obviously found women attractive, and was still young enough to be forgiven for what others might consider a single lapse in judgment. Phoenix might suffer a little hazing for it, but he’d be absolved the next time he helped lead his team to victory, his temporary indiscretion thoroughly forgotten.
But only if Razer severed their ties, which was the least he could do after breaking his own rule about keeping the relationship casual.
“There is nothing wrong with finding someone attractive, regardless of their gender,” he said calmly, picking his words slowly and carefully. “And contrary to popular belief, that attraction doesn’t always have to end with someone’s legs over their heads. But let us assume for a minute that your insane theory is indeed correct. If he is as desperate for relief as you claim he’d have to be in order to sleep with me, then you must rank somewhere just above a corpse, considering he still wouldn’t sleep with you first.”
At least he’d managed to finally bury her, and in a coffin of her own words, before everything had to be torn apart. There was nothing she could say against him at this point that wouldn’t put her just that much further down the list. Conversely, her pride would never allow her to bring him back up, either. She was firmly stuck in the mud she had decided to throw, completely without any course of action that would help her regain any of the dignity she’d lost. He smiled when she finally figured that out. Once again, something inside her broke, forcing her to lash out. This time he was ready for it.
He caught the hand long before it had a chance to strike, fingers closing over a thin wrist with bruising force. “I have suffered you once,” he growled darkly, pleased by the sudden look of terror in those wide, surprised eyes. “I will not do it again.”
There was a noise, but focused as he was on the girl in front of him, Razer didn’t pay it much mind. She did. And with that flicker of her eyes away and back, her fear turned to ugly spite. Before he could even think to question, overly pouty lips parted and she screamed. It took all of two seconds to realize what had happened. Two seconds too late to change anything important.
Four very large men appeared almost magically, surrounding them, their loud and angry voices demanding to know what was going on. The cheerleader wrenched free from his grasp, sobbing in a pitiful, if not overly dramatic, fashion as she was encircled by her compatriots, all of whom started shouting their own responses. The stories conflicted horribly—stalking, propositioning, kidnapping—but the only one heard by the would-be saviors was the devastating word rape.
The cunning bitch… She’d not only just black-listed him to what looked like half the defensive line, if not blatantly the whole football team, but she’d ensured that no one would ever hear a word said in his defense. Anything he did to protect himself from the fight that was now imminent would be the act of an aggressor trying to escape. Beyond that was the fact that it would haunt him past this altercation. Even if he was never formally charged, it would end up on his record, threatening his schooling, his scholarships, his visa. The baseless accusation was going to cost him everything he’d worked so hard to gain. And there was nothing he could do to stop this from snowballing that far out of control.
His resolve hardened. Fine. So be it. If he was going to pay, then so would they.
Razer dodged the first punch that came his way and the rest was the result of endless, exhaustive hours of training. His fist connected with a jaw moments before his foot slammed into a thigh. A second kick crippled the knee, though the third to the head was blocked. Another quick punch dropped that defense so that the fourth kick was also the last. His boot collided with the lineman’s head in a textbook-executed fouette kick, dropping the misguided bully to the ground in a little more than three seconds.
The stunned moment of silence gave him a chance to gauge his other three opponents. They didn’t have much on him in height, but they definitely outclassed him in weight. Standard body blows weren’t going to work. Neither would most of the take-downs he knew, for obvious reasons. The first one to gather his wits swung wildly, his blows easy to dodge or deflect. It didn’t take much more to knock him off balance, take his legs out from under him, and help his thick head meet the asphalt with a fist to the face.
The remaining two finally formed up into the wall they were trained to be and slammed into him, taking him to the ground. Too heavy to flip over and the air driven from his lungs, Razer settled for driving his knee into an unprotected groin. One of them yelped while the other head-butted him back into the pavement. As if that wasn’t enough to make him see stars, there was another punishing blow to his still stinging cheek. Then he tasted blood.
That might have been the end of it if someone hadn’t missed their next swing. Over-zealous with the impending thrill of victory, they swung too hand and smashed their winning shot into the ground rather than the intended head. The roar of pain changed to a squeak as Razer brought his knee up again harder, sending one man rolling off. An arm now freed, he returned the facial blow and blocked an attempt at further retribution from the second. His fingers dug into tendons as he rocked up and then threw his weight back, finally dislodging the other enough to slip from beneath him, rolling to put some distance between them. He regained his feet just in time to meet a competely new attacker.
This one seemed to have some skill beyond his brawler buddies, throwing proper punches rather than flailing about and hoping sheer strength would pull him through. Just as Razer could block most of the attacks, so could his attacks be blocked. The stalemate was slowly driving him into a corner and more masculine shouting could be heard over the shrill screams of the cheer squad. Great, more halfwits coming to join the fight. If this remained a contest of fists, he was going to lose more than his privileges abroad.
He nearly tripped over the solution to his problem. A dodge and another roll left him with a sturdy branch in one hand, a casualty of the recent wind storms. The dumb brute in front of him laughed as he twirled his wrist, half automatic gesture for the start of a fight, half testing for weight and stability. It was nearly perfect, a little long and therefore weak at the tip, but it would work well enough to give him the extra reach he needed. Razer’s stance straightened up as the piece of wood sang through the air. The laughing stopped as stinging blows rained down one after another into soft targets, a hard elbow into the solar plexus and a right hook coming immediately after. Another snap of the stick to an unprotected knee made the follow-up leg sweep easy and left the other howling in pain on the ground.
Razer swung the cane into his other hand, still twirling it with enough force to make the air whistle as he turned to take the next combatant. Three were still on the ground, the first attacker and the man who’d suffered his knee to the family jewels twice, plus the one he’d just put down. The remaining two original confronters looked a bit less convinced they wanted any part of this fight. But three more people had rushed onto the scene with several more still en route and who knew how many more that had yet to come out of the locker rooms. It became irrevocably clear that there was no way he could win this, only stave them off until someone got in a lucky shot. If the universe was kind, he wouldn’t remain conscious once that happened. He knew he would never be that lucky.
So much had gone wrong in so little time… His eyes closed for that brief second of regret all men had when facing impossible odds, then committed everything to the next strike.
***
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To be continued.
- 8
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Rule 39