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Three gunshots.
Tawniey lurched up. She scrambled for her side, struggling against her restraints-- groping blindly for the warm, wet fabric that she knew she would find. But she didn’t. The flesh beneath her hand was whole and sound. As her vision came into focus, she realized that she was not looking up at the gunmetal skies of Haven city, but the dingy gray of her apartment walls.
It wasn’t real.
It never was.
The calendar Kendryk had given her was pinned to the wall at the foot of her bed: a silent reminder of how much she had overcome, and how long she had endured. The series of bold scribbles in thick black marker led her to the current date. It was now the fourth of a month called Etsion, in the year 297 EM. Tawniey had learned that the phrase meant 297 years after the death of Mar, the founder of Haven City.
She gradually rose to a seat on her bed, taking care to untangle herself from the sheets. There were no notes in the small white box that bore the present date. Like the rest of the month, it was fairly empty. With no scheduled jobs to do or clients to meet, she supposed she would have to find something else to keep her mind occupied.
From behind the threadbare curtains, she could see day was just breaking. The misty haze of morning was still clinging to the town below. It would still be a few hours before the shopkeepers would unlock their front doors.
The guard would be changing soon.
She swiveled her legs off of the mattress until her feet touched the splintery wooden floor. Her clothes were hanging on the thin metal wire that spanned the bedroom ceiling. She carefully retrieved her boots and slipped them on. Of all of the adaptations she had made to fit into Haven City, shoes were one that she welcomed. She could not imagine traversing the scalding hot stone of main town or the sharp rocky gravel of the slums in the leather foot wrappings they had worn in Sandover. Her armor came next, it’s ruddy color seeming dull and worn in the dim lighting of her room, and she tied everything off with the long straps she sometimes wondered if she was using correctly. Nevertheless, she was now dressed and prepared for the day, wondering what it would bring her.
Her last job had proven incredibly lucrative, and the artifact hadn’t been as hard to retrieve as she’d worried. To be sure, it had taken some time for the bruises on her knees and shoulders to fade to a less conspicuous yellow tint, but then again, nobody in Haven would have looked at her twice for them. Her choice of clothing was usually the subject of their stares, and even then very few confronted her about it. She never minded even when they did, the high of adrenaline from a job well done and money in her pocket far too satisfying to let a few pointed questions ruin her mood.
Now, however, she was looking at the dregs of her haul glinting as dully in its box as her armor, and she considered them as if trying to discern a way to make the box fuller if she just stared at it long enough. A note from the frail, timid old landlady had been lying on her floor like a quiet plea for attention, and it made the contents of Tawniey’s bank feel out of place. The old woman was never mean about rent; in fact, Tawniey often mused to herself that Kendryk must have spun something truly horrific to cover for her that the worst she ever seemed to get were similar notes quietly slipped beneath her door when payment was due. Whatever it was, the woman never questioned Tawniey’s comments, no matter how obviously strange they sounded. The woman would use a voice reminiscent of a nanny to a young child when engaging in the vapid conversations between heading in or out of the complex, and it always had an air of concerned pity. Tawniey’s alibi probably involved amnesia or brain damage for such delicacy to be given in what many considered a fairly hostile part of the city, and it had the side benefit of excusing any of her frequent questions about things that born Havenites never needed answered. Whatever the story, she smiled to herself, deciding finally that if she had so little, she may as well give it where it was needed anyway. Counting the various bits and orbs until she came to their total, Tawniey realized she’d actually have something left over, and after delivering the payment to the front downstairs, she went out into the streets in search of something to keep her mind occupied.
As she opened the door of the apartment complex she was disappointed to find that the air was just as stuffy outside as it had been indoors. It was not a particularly unusual occurrence-- the odd twisting shape of the slums prevented any of Main Town’s climate control from circulating quite so far as the corner complexes. She supposed that as the sun rose and the mist broke, the weather might have become more pleasant, but the water slums around the corner would leave the air thick and damp after the noonday sun. Tawniey decided silently that she would avoid returning home until after sundown if possible. Pulling her yellow access pass from her pocket, she began the walk to the Eastern bazaar.
Upon arrival at the first shop, Tawniey had to keep herself from pressing her nose to the glass to take it all in. There were some beautifully braided breads cooling on racks, trays of muffins beneath with bits of fruit and nuts sticking out like jewels from their tops. A few sweet rolls were curled delicately and placed in their own glass cases. Her stomach grumbled as she walked in the door. The baker smiled wearily at her.
“First customer of the day!” he said with more enthusiasm than she would have expected. “You’re in luck, it’s all fresh.”
“How much are the muffins?” Tawniey asked cheerfully.
“One bit each.” He smiled. “Or two and a half for the dozen.”
She rummaged through her side pocket in search of a coin with sharp corners, but unfortunately, the only orbs she had were whole.
“Do you have a splitter?” She asked hopefully.
“No, I’m sorry.” The baker replied. “I know Solder does but his shop won’t open for another few hours.”
Tawniey fought back a frown as she withdrew an orb from her pocket. “Well, I guess I’ll take four, then.” She said.
The baker reached out and took the orb, dropping it pleasantly into the slot on the safebox on the counter, and handed her the paper bag full of muffins in exchange. She nodded graciously and returned to the streets.
The sky had become significantly brighter, but the sun was still not in view. Despite the better part of an hour having passed, the winding path was just as empty as it had been when she had first woke. The Industrial District employees would be starting their shifts soon. If she were to leave now, she might be able to slip seamlessly into the morning trickles of workers heading to their jobs before the traffic became too heavy for the night guards to watch alone.
The night guards were Tawniey’s favorite. It was not that they were any more pleasant than those who patrolled the streets during the day-- in fact, perhaps even less so-- but rather, it was that they were typically so exhausted from the isolation and tedium of routinely walking the empty streets that the usual vigilant and piercing stares that came from behind the bright red goggles would be altogether unfocused. The majority of bazaar theft took place around this time with little consequence, though Tawniey strongly suspected that so early in the morning, people were simply too tired to care.
As it happened, she made it to the Industrial section of the city without any notable problems, and deftly climbed the skeletal walls of the building where she would sit, watching. As she reached the top, she stopped to retrieve a small bag that had been securely tied to one of the support beams. Though this setup was more to keep the items from falling into the construction below than measures against any theft, Tawniey was pleased to find that when she opened the bag, not a single item was missing.
She pulled the binoculars and a half-full notepad from the bag before settling down with one of the muffins in her free hand, to begin her near-daily vigil. One of the nice things about this vantage point was she could see almost all the way round the Fortress depending on where she sat. Her favorite place allowed her to monitor the KG that stood by a fair-sized door which by now, she had guessed was a side entrance to the building.
Over the last two years, she had managed to painstakingly collect so little information. Her notepad had various scribbles and sketches indicating the routes of the guards, which doors were accessible to civilians, and carefully calculated reaction times to nearby events. Still, the plodding speed of her self-assigned project was enough to try her patience. At times, she wondered if it would be too late by the time she knew enough to break in.
The dull blue-grey of the sky as the sun steadily arced overhead tugged her thoughts back to the day she’d been dumped from the blinding hole of light into Haven’s dingy clutches. It had been a trip she could remember looking forward to. Though she and her friends were familiar with the small precursor warp gates, they had never seen one so large as what they had found at Gol and Maia’s citadel. It had taken weeks to retrieve all of the pieces of the gate and vehicle, and reassemble them at Keira’s lab. Tawniey remembered the eager look in Jak’s eyes when they were told that they should prepare to leave the following morning. When they all piled into the strange machine and Daxter tried to touch the screen, Tawniey could remember her heart pumping as she grinned from ear to ear. They had no way of knowing what lay ahead, and, at that time, that had been something to be excited about.
When Jak started it up, however, after their eyes had adjusted to the brilliant light of the warp gate, the sky seemed to immediately dim. The terrifying creature that appeared in the ring was unlike anything that Tawniey had ever seen before. She had only managed to get a brief look at the thing before they were hurdling through the rift. When they finally reached the other side, they were thrust onto the cold metal overpass near the fortress wall. Though Jak and Daxter had only landed a few feet away from her, Samos and Keira were nowhere to be found. She could remember Daxter’s loud complaints as she tried to keep her head from spinning, but it hadn’t been long before they were approached by a group of men in red armor.
Daxter had started to run, but the men didn’t seem interested in chasing him. They were only interested in Jak, and Tawniey had screamed something when she saw a man with wild orange hair grinning widely as Jak was swiftly made unconscious with the butt end of the guard’s gun. She didn’t have time to do anything else, her shouting having drawn the attention of the KG as they unflinchingly fired in her direction. Tawniey’s vision blurred, the faint shapes and colors of Jak being dragged away by the imposing red-armored men all she could see as shock settled in like the blood through her freshly wounded side.
The ghost of the sound of guns yanked Tawniey back to reality. Whether it was from her own memory or the guards far away and below her, she couldn’t tell, but she muttered a curse under her breath once she’d realized her mind had wandered. She felt less guilty about it lately than she had in the beginning, when she was certain every second might bring her that much closer to breaking the puzzle of the Fortress. Nowadays, it was all she could do to keep her hopes alive of ever making it in, much less bringing Jak out, and she feared the day she might sit at her post out of habit alone.
The day wore on tediously, her mind a blur of memory and tamping down self doubt when she caught sight of something different than usual as the sun had touched down on the opposite end of the sky. It had been two years, but there was no mistaking the orange pile of fur as it leaped from a small opening in the fortress wall.
“Daxter?” she questioned aloud, desperately trying to focus her binoculars on the tiny ottsel. He was walking now towards the bazaar, and the moment he’d disappeared from her range she was scrambling to replace her supplies and climb back down. Her legs carried her faster than they ever had to where she’d last seen him and it didn’t take long after she’d started searching to catch Daxter’s eye once she’d entered the bazaar. She even allowed herself to excitedly scoop him up into a crushing hug, despite his protests and some confused stares from other civilians.
“Daxter!” She shouted. “Where have you been?”
“If you’d put me down I might actually get a chance to answer!” He squeaked, attempting to claw his way out of her grip.
“Oh! Sorry!” She said quickly releasing him. She could feel herself grinning stupidly as she watched the orange ball of fuzz brushing himself off indignantly. He had a roll of paper clenched tightly in one gloved hand.
“It’s good to see you too, Tawn, but jeez, people need to breathe.” he said finally. “What are you doing here?”
It took Tawniey a moment to keep from telling him everything she had been doing to collect information on the roof of the factory right then and there at the bazaar. Suddenly, she remembered the bag of muffins in her hand.
“Uh…. Grocery shopping.”
“Right, well, while you’ve been grocery shopping, I’ve been taking care of important business. You know, the kind I can’t just tell everyone about.”
“My apartment isn’t far from here.” Tawniey offered, realizing that their current location did not lend itself to everything they had to discuss.
“Great.” Daxter answered. “Then, you lead the way.”
The walk back to the upper slums felt significantly shorter now that Tawniey had someone to talk to. Despite the fact that the last time they had seen each other was in a wildly different setting, they had no problems finding topics of easy chatter. By the time the conversation finally slowed, Tawniey was pulling out her access key and the door was sliding open.
“Well,” She said. “Here it is. This is home.”
Daxter hopped up onto the lumpy couch and began to scratch behind his ear with a foot.
“Kinda small isn’t it?”
“Do you know how much this place costs?” Tawniey grumbled, setting down her bag in the entryway.
“For this dump? I dunno.” Daxter said. “300 a month.”
“Four.” She corrected. She flopped down on the couch as well with a great sigh. After a moment of quiet consideration, she reached down, drew the last two muffins from her paper bag and tossed one to Daxter. “Man I'm wishing we hadn't pooled together to trade all those orbs to Jak’s uncle. Do you know how much that is here? 90 orbs? Real orbs? Do you know where we'd be?”
“I'm guessing we wouldn't be eating yesterdays muffins in a shitty apartment.” Daxter retorted.
“I’ll have you know these are fresh muffins.” Tawniey huffed.
“Is that what the baker told you?” Daxter replied through a mouthful, “Because you got conned.”
Tawniey picked up the throw pillow from the side of the couch and tossed it at Daxter’s head, knocking him momentarily from the couch. He picked himself up and dusted off his muffin before climbing back up, catching the corner of a grin on Tawniey before she forced her mouth straight again.
“Do you know what?” He asked thoughtfully, after a moment. “I don’t even think that guy was Jak’s uncle.”
“You think so?” Tawniey replied.
“Seriously. He was kinda weird.”
“Tell me about it.”
The two rambled on for some time, laughing as they caught up with each other’s lives, but just after Daxter mentioned something about a map and the Fortress, Tawniey’s heart skipped a beat.
“Wait what?”
“Oh yeah, this yutz wanted me to ‘borrow’ some kind of chest plate or something from an old suit of armor. Frankly after gettin’ out of there should be asking for at least twice as much--”
“No, no!” Tawniey was speaking fast, breathless, “You said you have a map?”
“How else would I get in and out?”
“Daxter,” Tawniey felt her hands shaking as her mouth broke into what she was certain was a maniacal grin, “Daxter, I could kiss you, you actually have a map of the Fortress!!”
The ottsel said something then that Tawniey was certain she’d feel compelled to hit him for later, but there was no time. She rushed through explaining what she’d found out from her own observations, and when the pieces had been connected, Daxter seemed just as floored.
“Are you telling me,” he huffed while trotting along at her side as she practically leapt down the stairs of the apartment complex, “that you haven’t actually seen Jak since he got nabbed by those goons?”
“Exactly,” Tawniey replied. “And I know this sounds nuts, but I just know he’s still alive and he needs our help. I saw you hop out of some kind of window or something earlier, and it gave me an idea!”
“Ooh no,” Daxter warned. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, now sounding annoyed, “I’ve had enough of that place for one day.”
Tawniey skidded to a halt before him, lowering her voice to a near whisper.
“Come on Dax, we’ll be travelling through the air vents, and I told you it’s the only thing the KG don’t seem to check! We’ll be perfectly safe--”
“Nope. No way. Nuh-uh. Not going.”
“Not even for Jak?” she prompted sweetly, her eyes wide and imploring. Daxter huffed, kicking himself for falling at the mercy of Tawniey’s gently tremmoring bottom lip.
“Fine.” He grumbled. “But It’s only because I know if this were the other way around, Jak would probably be pulling some sort of hero bullshit, so we can’t just leave him hanging can we?”
Tawniey rose back up so elatedly that Daxter thought she might have levitated a few inches above the ground.
“Good.” she managed.
“But we need a plan first.”
“Okay.”
“And you’ll make a good substitute shoulder. I am NOT walking back that whole way.”
“It’s a deal.”
As they made their way back up the stairs to examine the map, Tawniey thought she’d jump right out of her skin. The day had started with such boredom and misery, it was hard to believe so many good things had wandered into her midst at once. And even with the seriousness of laying out their attack plan, she could feel the smile that had crept onto her face had not left for the rest of the evening. She and Daxter were going to get Jak out. As the light filtering through her dusty windows slowly dimmed, that thought ran through Tawniey’s mind again and again, and she couldn’t wait to see the same joy and excitement in her friend’s face once they were reunited.
⁂
How long had it been since he had seen daylight?
Months?
Years?
Jak thought that if he were to ever see sunlight again, he might be blinded by it. His deep blue eyes had adjusted to perpetual darkness of the cell, but just as he bore the scars of abuse and torture, his cell walls mirrored those marks. There were deep lines etched into the stone, carved with a thick metal spoon he had stolen one day after a meal of near-spoiled soup from the KG mess hall-- a real treat. Some of the lines were an attempt to keep track of the days; to remember that the sun set and the moon rose. To hold onto some memory of what life used to be like. That time passed in a more concrete way than weeks melding into eternity after spending too much time alone in the dark.
However there were other smaller marks that dotted the edge of this sad calendar as the result of an equally methodical but more terrible way of passing the hours. The same spoon had made them, stabbing faster and faster between Jak’s spread fingers against the wall as he wondered when and if there would ever be a round of the game where he finally would slip and make himself bleed.
Though Jak had never spoken a word to any other person in his life, he now craved conversation.
Two years' silence had given him a voice.
Jak allowed himself to flop back onto his lumpy cot and placed his arms behind his head.
He had just picked up a rubber band to shoot at a passing fly when suddenly, heavy footsteps made his ears perk up.
His heart skipped a beat.
Not again.
They couldn't be back again. Not so soon. Not now.
He closed his eyes as though trying to shelter himself from the approach of the nearby Guard.
He could still feel the pain in his chest from where the dark eco was so recently forced into his body. He sat up in an attempt to untie the twisted knot that his stomach had become.
Would he black out? Be conscious through the whole thing? Or even worse--experience the temporary lapses in memory that occasionally followed, sometimes hours after they had thrust him back into his cell and locked the doors. All that ever stayed with him was a rage that felt as though it weren't quite his, and the dreamlike visions that lingered for only moments.
The bars opened with a clatter, revealing a man with a uniform red as blood and a rather threatening firearm.
The man banged his fist loudly on the side of the cell as though to wake him up.
Jak closed his eyes.
Not again. Please not again.
But no sooner than the thought crossed his mind, he felt himself being grabbed roughly by the arm.
Jak allowed himself to be dragged out of the cell and down a flight of stairs. He knew at this point that there was little use in resisting, but he was certainly not going to make their job easier. They finally reached the platform, which was surrounded on all sides by a startling drop. The Guard forced him down onto the cool metal chair and the restraints instantly locked at the wrists and ankles.
Jak closed his eyes. He didn't want to watch as the machine whirred to life, or the forked anode lowered to begin the injection cycle.
His whole body clenched with a jolt as the process began. Dark eco traveled through his veins, leaving scorching, unbearable pain in its wake. His face contorted in agony.
Someone was screaming. The sharp pain subsided and he realized it was his own mouth that was stretched open.
He didn't care if he survived anymore. Death was welcome at any time to come and turn out the lights. To end the pain. His eyelids fluttered open just before the button was jammed again and the second wave hit.
Jak wasn't aware of quite when it had stopped. The next thing he knew, he was being held up by two guards, each grabbing one of his upper arms. Erol’s smooth, lilting voice was echoing through the metal chambers.
“We need this place cleaned up before the Baron comes tomorrow.”
“Yes sir.” A low voice grunted in response.
“Make sure the cells are washed and the prisoners showered. It stinks down here.”
“Yes sir.”
“This project is such a waste of time.” Erol muttered. “We’ve been at this for years and not a shred of results. At least it’s entertaining when they die on the table, but this one won’t even do that.”
Jak was being thrown back into his cell. As the bars clattered shut, he heard the voices fading into the distance until he could no longer make out what the two were saying.
His knees hit the floor with a dull thud.
Consciousness was eluding him. He had not been allowed to die this time, and now that the sharp and stabbing pain was ebbing away, he was beginning to recall that he didn't want to.
He would survive. He would endure.
And one day... he would exact revenge.
Jakwagon is written by 
(Myself), and 
(DC).
Comments are turned off here on DA, but we would love to encourage you to discuss this chapter, the fic in general, and anything else Jak and Daxter related here on our new forums.
You can findother Jakwagon things in our Jakwagon group here on deviantart and on the Jakwagon tumblr.
-----
Jakwagon is a Jak and Daxter fanfiction that attempts to provide deeper exploration of the world and characters of the Jak TPL, II and 3 games. All headcanons and plot extensions are extrapolated from extensive world research, however, Jakwagon is considered an Alternate Universe fic due to the many original characters and small modifications to Jak canon that allow for this world exploration.
(Myself), and (DC). Comments are turned off here on DA, but we would love to encourage you to discuss this chapter, the fic in general, and anything else Jak and Daxter related here on our new forums.
You can findother Jakwagon things in our Jakwagon group here on deviantart and on the Jakwagon tumblr.
-----
Jakwagon is a Jak and Daxter fanfiction that attempts to provide deeper exploration of the world and characters of the Jak TPL, II and 3 games. All headcanons and plot extensions are extrapolated from extensive world research, however, Jakwagon is considered an Alternate Universe fic due to the many original characters and small modifications to Jak canon that allow for this world exploration.
© 2014 - 2024 Autumn-Fyre
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