Author: Smite1 PM
Jak does not actively remember Haven/Spargus, subconciously he knows it. He recognises the streets, it practically scares him when he first notices. The people aren't as easily recognised... Or are they? T for a few words. P.S SPOILERS!Rated: Fiction T - English - Jak M. - Chapters: 18 - Words: 22,188 - Reviews: 22 - Favs: 22 - Follows: 9 - Updated: 04-24-11 - Published: 03-29-11 - id: 6855462
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hello again. I'm just in a Jak mood right now. Have offically finished 2 and 3, working on TPL, X and TLF. Procrastinating as usual.
Jak is property of Naughty Dog, as far as I know, so don't bite me if I'm wrong.
Alright, I've just got to ask you all, Don't you guys think someone had to have an inkling that something was up? Jak had literaly lived there already and you don't think he noticed?
This will go through Jak 3 also, but only vaguely reference TPL, as I haven't fully finished it yet. That and the point of this is not to replay his entire life story, it's to put a different light on it.
I can't believe I'm saying this, but reviews get me working on them, so write reviews if you want to see any more work.
Jak stared out of the prison. He recognised this place. He knew the streets, the slums, the stadium and the port. He knew where all of this stuff was and he had barely seen any of it after crashing head first into the middle of the industrial area. Shit was the only thing he can think of to describe the feeling in his gut that something was horribly wrong here. He was releavied he didn't recognise anyone, even though there is a sea of similarly faced people they look like strangers that stare down past him. No one looks up here, only down in defeat... He frowned at himself.
He couldn't know that the only things the bastards in prison spoke about was his inability to die from the eco, and the minimal changes his body had from the injections. He'd wished he'd died so many times, the eco they pumped into him may have been small doses, but dark eco burnt no matter how much you dealt with it, if you even could.
An old man glanced at Jak. Jak recognised him. He knew that shaped face with a gem on his skull, something was wrong with the image though. It wasn't right. What wasn't lining up?
The man,was pompus, Jak decided immediately. And far more dangerous than he acted. His gut told him he should go for his throat and stop any of this from ever happening. He wanted to do it too. But he couldn't, he scared Daxter. The man looked Jak over.
"Interesting." the man said.
"You look like a reasonably smart man. I want information. Where the hell am I?" Jak roared in his face, the thing back down Jak grinned to himself. Daxter tried to apologise to the child. Jak looked at the kid confused for a moment, that necklace...
"Jak, you might want to clean up alittle bit." Daxter laughed to his newly rescued friend. Daxter avoided Jak's eye. He knew Jak didn't blame him, but he blamed himself for being too late, for Jak no longer being the naive Jak he should have been. "You got a bit of fuz you might want to clean off, but I say keep the goatee. It's a nice green I haven't seen on you in years." Daxter laughed as Jak frowned in confusion. He went to do it, Daxter praying he didn't end up bleeding to due from lack of experience.
Jak thought he would be fine, aslong as it wasn't too bad on his skin. He walked in facing the mirror his hand poised to clear it off, then froze. And yelled. It was still strange to hear his voice say anything more than grunts. Daxter rushed in taking a look at Jak's face thinking he'd cut it. No blood on the green hair. Also no progress at all. Jak continued staring at the mirror.
This can't be me. he thought staring at the reflection infront of him, it was hairy than he remembered but... I've seen it before. It's not mine.
"Jak. If you're that scared. I'll show you how to do it." Daxter told the boy that seemed to be ignoring him. Jak silently stared at the mirror not taking his eyes off it to hand the razor to Daxter. Daxter could see something was scaring Jak. Not the idea of shaving, but he couldn't tell what. He couldn't ask.
After he's cleaned up the fuzz on Jak's face, he looks at Jak approvingly. "Now that is one stylin' goatee, buddy." Daxter laughed, and Jak tensed up again as he noticed it in the reflection. Jak simply turned to the ottsel, with his eyes wide with confusion.
This isn't me. Daxter looked away. He felt the guilt of not finding his friend in time.