(no subject)

[ddddropthebass]

Who: Jak and Bass
What: One year after the defeat of the Dark Makers, Jak is a brick with a gun doing what a brick with a gun does: clean-up. He comes across an unfinished project in an old Krimzon Guard facility and his work ends up following him home.
Universe/CR: Jak-Universe AU



Clean-up, they'd called it. Really, it was more to give Jak something to do, although it was necessary to maintain the peace they'd so carefully constructed. Old enemy storehouses needed to be examined, categorized and, in most cases, blown up. Jak was the most qualified warrior to deal with any potential resistance so for the more remote posts to where it would be difficult to transport troops, Jak was dispatched. It wasn't entirely to get him out of their political hair-

Well, it was kind of for that too. But Jak was never meant to sit behind a desk. Ashelin knew it, Torn knew it, Sig knew it. Even Daxter knew it, to a degree, which is why he stayed behind as Jak went out, and hadn't that been a tough decision. Jak had taken it in as much stride as could be assumed, being separated from someone with whom he'd spent almost every making moment, and Daxter was about as happy about it but there were responsibilities to which he had to attend now, least of all the management of the Hip Hog. Things with Tess were getting serious, and for some reason Dax was actually sort of good at helping write up diplomatic legislature, in some hilarious twist of fate. So that meant a lot of staying put, something that Jak was unarguably bad at doing.

Just a few runs, Samos had asked. To tie up loose ends. If left alone, loose ends always tie themselves, and never in a way you want them to. ...he could've gone longer with that string metaphor (included something about the knots and snares of life maybe) but Jak had already since lost interest and was ready to leave.

Krimzon Guard Depot Alpha-581 was on the outskirts of the Wasteland, on one of the southern islands and only barely accessible by land. The outer walls of the depot were rusted by water and bleached pale pink by the sun, salt crusting along the seams of the plates from where the waves slapped against the foundation. Inside wasn't much better; the depot was still, sand piled up in corners and the ocean breeze whistling through holes in the roofing, manufacturing equipment in varying states of disrepair, only a handful of Deathbots wandering about the facility in confusion. Another depot set for decommission.

Only...the power grid showed one room at the center of the compound with power consumption. Blowing the building sky high would undoubtedly take that room with it, except that the Krimzon Guard were infamous for using Dark Eco in the construction of their later models thanks to Errol. An explosion with Dark Eco involved could drastically affect the surrounding ecosystem, even all the way up to Spargus. That room would have to be investigated first.

In the center of a room, near a flashing panel indication a critical power failure, is a capsule. Inside that capsule is the body of what can only be a strange-looking young boy...either asleep or dead. The panel reads CATASTROPHIC POWER FAILURE: ACTIVATE UNIT? YES/NO in blaring, blinking red. A remnant of the KG to be sure, but...definitely nothing that they'd made before. Especially with the room stinking like it'd had been painted with Dark Eco.

Comments

[ddddropthebass]

"No." For a robot built to be good at everything, Bass is a phenomenally terrible liar. Mostly because people who lie have a) something to hide, b) are afraid of something happening and c) want to be liked. As Bass generally does not fit any of the above criteria, he hasn't had a lot of practice with it.

He kind of fits two of the three now but that lack of practice is biting him in the ass. He's banking on Jak not caring enough to question it further. Just in case, he pushes past the guy deeper into the complex to avoid arousing any more suspicion, even if giving Jak his back knowing what he does now makes his skin crawl.

The compound is largely abandoned, something that's both disappointing and frustrating in that there's neither a distraction nor anything for them to blow up. Bass huffs and growls and sets the charges on the still half-fueled facility reactor before they haul ass back out and over to the Hellcat to head for the next one.

[shadesofeco]

Yeahhh, see Jak's spent the last few years of his life being hunted by KG and Errol's death bots. He doesn't trust Bass yet, not enough to let an obvious lie like that go, and now he's suspicious.

Eyes narrowing, he lets it go long enough for them to detonate the facility and make it back to the Hellcat, but it weighs on his mind. It's taken Jak months to reassure the people of Haven that he isn't actually a double agent; strolling around with a violent, belligerent ex-KG bot isn't really in his best interests and even if Bass saved his life, if he's hiding something then Jak wants to know.

"You're hiding something." There's a storm due to roll in, Jak can feel the pressure bearing down and the wind is starting to pick up. He really, really doesn't want to get caught in it but he's betting Bass wouldn't like to spend the rest of the evening picking sand out of his joints either. "Spill it."

[ddddropthebass]

Fuck.

Bass takes a full fifteen seconds to run that through his processors, pick apart the tone and context and any logical loophole he could use to get out of answering that question. He passes on a hundred and sixty-seven possible responses that don't answer the question but still fulfill the request for more information because they don't make sense, won't satisfy the request or aren't what was ordered.

There's no way around it.

Bass doesn't notice that he'd leaned away from Jak, pressed himself against the side of the Hellcat as he thought and offers up his best belligerent snarl. "I'm not a big fan of Light Eco. Doesn't agree with me." That should be enough. Sounds more like a preference than a weakness that way, and makes it seem like he could power through any introduction of Light Eco with enough guts and gumption instead of what would probably happen, which would be a catastrophic system failure.

[shadesofeco]

Wh--

Jak blinks. He thinks back to their conversation, a grunted comment from him that barely even registered at the time -- that's what he's upset about?

"Oh."

That Bass just revealed a potential weakness to be exploited if he needs it doesn't even occur to Jak, he's just relieved it isn't some kind of weird pre-programmed back stabbing or revelation about him doing the Dark Makers bidding or some other weird shit.

"Okay well, I'll try and keep it under wraps around you."

And with that he yanks down his goggles, pulls up his bandanna and starts the engine, pulling the Hellcat up into the air and towards the next facility.

[ddddropthebass]

...what.

"Wait, wait wait. Hold the fuck up! Hey!" Bass clambers to the front of the Hellcat and grabs onto Jak's arm, lip curled. "The hell's that supposed to mean? You'll 'keep it under wraps,' the fuck do you mean by THAT?"

People don't just NOT use weapons, especially not for the comfort of other people they don't even really like. Maybe he's pushing it, practically daring Jak to find out just how much it doesn't agree with him, but he'd rather know now than later. Before he gets too comfortable with this arrangement.

[shadesofeco]

The Hellcat lurches to the side and Jak yanks his arm back, steadying her as he throws Bass a what the fuck look. Fucking relax, dude.

"It means what I said." What's so confusing about that? He used the right phrase, right? "I'll get creative."

Of course, if he needs it then he needs it, but considering how sparse it is Jak's already use to rationing Light Eco more than he'd like. A little more won't hurt that much. Hell, it's like a challenge.

[ddddropthebass]

'Get creative' doesn't sound much better, and it shows by how hard Bass clutches the rim of the Hellcat, metal denting between his fingers like putty. "Get creative with what."

And Bass doesn't know it, but this is the thing most human about him. He can't hide anything on his face. Jak might recognize his expression, from somewhere deep and dark inside himself that smells like Dark Eco and the inside of a prison. Every line on Bass' face is etched into the same hunted, the same furiously angry expression most of the good Baron's guests wore when they heard the clunk of Erol's racing boots on the grates outside their cell.

Depending on the mouth it comes out of, 'creative' is just another word for cruel.

[shadesofeco]

Jak opens his mouth to answer, but then he looks aside and shuts it immediately. He might not be able to describe that expression, but he knows what it means, knows it in the darkest ways possible.

And worst of all, he knows how easy it is to say the wrong thing to the person wearing it.

In all their bickering and squabbling, through the tantrums and destruction Jak had almost forgotten why he even bothered keeping Bass around. Sure he's useful, but more than anything Jak wants to give him a chance. Because he knows what it feels like to be an abandoned, half-finished project, a dangerous weapon with no target, distrusted by everyone.

"I meant, I'll get creative about not using it," he says carefully. "It's only for defensive maneuvers, I can work without it when we're on missions together. Okay?"

[ddddropthebass]

Bass stares unblinking at Jak for a few moments longer before nodding tersely and relaxing into the passenger seat, looking away. He doesn't say anything, doesn't completely trust that explanation but it's more than he's ever gotten before. Errol and the dark makers didn't give him promises, uf they spoke to him at all. Just instructions that he rarely ever followed.

He presses his hands together and wedges them between his knees, feeling oddly vulnerable but -just as oddly- sort of okay with it. The landscape races past beneath them, the irregular hum of the hellcat engine in his ears (cylinder rotation speed still off by .05 seconds).

"What did they do to you?" Bass doesn't ask it like it's a pity, or like it's horrific or a wrong to be righted. He just wants to know.

[shadesofeco]

If Bass had asked that question before his freak out, Jak probably wouldn't have answered. He's still a little cagey with what happened in the prison, doesn't like to revisit it even in his own head. It happens sometimes, against his will or in his sleep, but mostly he tries to block it from his thoughts.

Daxter knows. Maybe not all of it, but more than Jak's told him. Whether he's heard him talk in his sleep or he saw something in the prison before they broke out, he doesn't know. They don't really talk about it, just acknowledge it quietly. It's nice.

He stays silent for a while, just watching the sand dunes race beneath them, the occasional weather torn statue jutting out here and there.

"Dark Eco injections. Some kind of experiment." He clears his throat slightly. "The rest died."

[ddddropthebass]

"Congratulations on being special," Bass snorts, still in that different, neutral tone. He looks back over the desert, the way the sun crawls toward the horizon and sets the edge of it on fire. "Errol woke me up sixty-three times before you did. Mostly to talk about himself. He mentioned you sometimes. How much he fucking hated you, mostly."

[shadesofeco]

There's no surprise. Erol didn't do much to hide his hatred for Jak, for his apparent lack of potential, for not having the courtesy to die off like the others once it was clear he wasn't going to be the mindless killing machine his experiments were supposed to produce.

He'll probably regret asking this, but...

"Why so many times?" Jak keeps his eyes straight ahead.

[ddddropthebass]

"Why'd they kill so many prisoners before they got you?" It's the same principle, even if it's just with one toy soldier instead of a few dozen. "Practice makes perfect."

Errol was obsessed with having a perfectly obedient machine, probably because of his failures with Jak. Every time Bass showed even the slightest hint of disobedience, he was stuck back into storage for tweaking. Bass doesn't know why he retained all of the sessions; by all rights, he shouldn't have. And he'd figured out quick that he wasn't supposed to and had adjusted his behavior accordingly for that, at least, but it hadn't been enough for Errol.

Well, Errol could suck a dick. "You killed him, right? I'm guessing you did."

[shadesofeco]

God, Errol was a creepy fucker. Jak's hands tighten on the wheel until his knuckles pale.

"Yeah, he's dead. For good this time."

They thought he'd died back in the race crash, confident enough never to bother searching for a corpse. This time though, Jak made sure to dig through the Terraformer's burned out shell. He dragged Errol's carcass back across the Wasteland and made sure they ripped apart every spare piece, incinerating any organic matter they found.

It was a little gruesome, but no one thought it was overkill.

"We didn't find any others like you." It's sort of a question.

[ddddropthebass]

Bass would've appreciated it. Compete and utter annihilation of a hated enemy is practically an art form, if you work hard enough at it.

"If there was anything before me, it probably got scrapped and recycled for parts. My parts, most likely." Bass shrugs easily and puts his feet up on the dash. He's fine being the only one. Less competition for the top. "Dunno if Errol made it clear with his accessorizing but he had a thing for not wasting his resources after you killed his favorite benefactor."

[shadesofeco]

Not sure you could ever really call what Jak does "art", but he puts everything he has into it regardless.

There's a question he's been dreading asking, but it's been right there on the tip of his tongue for a while now and that uncomfortable knot in his stomach isn't going away until he asks.

"Were you human? Before."

It's pretty clear Bass is mostly mechanical at this point, but then again so was Errol.

[ddddropthebass]

Another exaggerated shrug. "Who knows?" Bass drives himself aggressively back into the seat to watch the starry night sky chase the sun down past the dunes. "If I was, I don't remember. What's it matter now? Besides." He reaches up to flick one of his own small, rounded ears without looking. "Don't exactly fit the design template. So I doubt it."

[shadesofeco]

That answer lets Jak relax a little, his shoulders loosening. The idea of Errol making a robot that looks like a child is slightly less creepy than the idea of him kidnapping a child and turning him into a robot.

They ride in comfortable silence for a while as the sun slips below the horizon and the air takes on a distinct chill. Headlights below them signal a Marauder scouting party skidding and barreling through the dunes, kicking up great plumes of dusty sand.

Jak leans over the side of the Hellcat and grunts.

"We can probably make it back to Haven tonight, or we can stop at Spargus and refuel."

[ddddropthebass]

"No, fuck Haven," Bass says, leaning over his own side of the Hellcat to track the Marauders. He stands up. "Everyone who lives there is a prick." And with those parting words Bass hops over the side of the cruiser and drops right onto hood of a Marauder vehicle with a shrieking laugh.

[shadesofeco]

"BASS! What ar--"

Oh. Revving engines, crashing metal, howls of laughter below; fair enough.

Jak huffs and mutters something under his breath then puts the Hellcat on autopilot so he can peer down over the edge. Six vehicles, with four more approaching over the hill--

No, make that three. One totaled himself against a rocky outcrop.

Well. He's had worse odds. Aiming the built-in machine guns he picks off two of the others before they can catch up to Bass. Not to save him, more because he was feeling left out of the carnage.

And fuck Marauders.

[ddddropthebass]

After the Marauders lay in smoking ruin and Jak swings back around to pick Bass up he shoves himself back into the passenger seat and wriggles himself down into it, grin sharp and wicked like a hellcat after a successful hunt. "Tell me what Spargus is like." He doesn't care, per se, but if they're going there instead of Haven he'd like to know what he's getting into.

[shadesofeco]

"Sandy."

There's a long pause, then Jak grunts. Okay fine, he'll elaborate.

"Pretty much the opposite of Haven. It's hot, people take what they want and if they're not useful or get in the way they get kicked out. So make sure you don't piss anyone off."

The chances of them actually getting asked to leave are extremely slim considering Jak's connections to Damas and Sig, but he wisely decides not to tell Bass that part.

[ddddropthebass]

"Really? Take what they want? Is that in the rules?" Because Bass can absolutely get behind that, taking whatever shit he feels like taking. Anywhere has to be better than Haven, with its sewage stink and its hollowed out towers and pieces of KG bots strewn all over the place, hocked off as pieces of armor, roofing, salad bowls. That's supposed to be his legacy.

Pathetic.

[shadesofeco]

Crap. Poor word choice.

"No, not since Damas... left. More like if you need food, you can ask and someone'll give it to you. If you find something in the Wasteland, it's yours to keep or trade."

And honestly, Jak kinda agrees with Bass. Spargus is rougher, poorer, harsher, but somehow more honest than Haven. At least Jak felt useful in Spargus, respected for his skills. Better than walking down the street and getting spit on in Haven.

The gates come into view just as the sun slips down beneath the dunes, and Jak slows as they rumble and slowly part. Inside is Kleiver's vehicle garage, but thankfully he's nowhere to be seen, so Jak just parks the Hellcat in a corner and hops out.

"You need anything? Parts? Oil? Small defenseless creatures to pick on?"

[ddddropthebass]

"I'm sure I'll find something," Bass says absently, already looking around curiously like a kid who hasn't quite made up his mind if he likes Disneyland or not. There's spikes all over the buildings. The decor is nice.

As they pass into the city proper, Bass becomes even more appreciative. "This place is a shithole," he says approvingly, neck craned as he assesses their surroundings.

Spargans nod or lift their hands in greeting to Jak, except for the ones who give him the finger for winning yet another desert race last month and costing them all their winnings. A few laugh at the sight of Bass, all purple hair and red-pink eyes who barely comes up to the already diminutive Jak's shoulder. Way to pick up a wimpy looking kid, Jak. New mascot? Better than the rat, at least.

They pass through the markets and Bass stops suddenly at a stall, peering down at...food, of all things. He grabs a tough-looking vegetable off the cart and shoves it into Jak's chest, rummaging in the credits purse Jak has tied to his belt with his free hand. "You're gonna eat this," he orders, handing over the cash to a snickering attendant. "And you shut your fuckin' mouth! If you ate any of the shit you sold then maybe your breath wouldn't smell like your mouth is a second asshole."