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[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]

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."

[shadesofeco]

Jak likes Spargus. It's a slum, but at least everyone here isn't wasting away waiting for death. They're making it work. He can appreciate that.

Someone punches him on the arm; he doesn't even look before punching them back. Back when he first came here he had a tendency to bump into people on his hoverboard... a lot. They don't plan on letting him forget, apparently.

It's fine. It's good, actually. Here they know who he is, what he can do and most importantly, they don't give a shit. He's accepted here, he can relax and just be him.

Grimacing, Jak holds up the vegetable -- he thinks it's a vegetable -- and looks to the stall owner for any clues. She smirks and shrugs a shoulder unhelpfully.

"Bite me, twinkletoes," she snaps at Bass, squaring her very, very wide shoulders. "Hey Jak, Sig wants to see you later. I don't think he's gonna like the new pet any more than the last one though."

Jak bites his tongue. HARD. "Mmhm, thanks. C'mon Bass." He grabs Bass' arm to drag him towards the adobe houses surrounding the shoreline.

[ddddropthebass]

TH' FUCK DID YOU CALL ME rings Bass's outraged shriek into the night as Jak hauls him over toward the palace.

If it can really be called a palace. Bass sulks on the way up in the elevator, picking open the rind of the vegetable and dropping the pieces right there on the grating. He shoves chunks of it at Jak to eat, glaring death and -worse- a screaming match if he doesn't at least make an effort.

Sig is likewise not pleased about Jak's new guest, but he's not as adamant about it as Torn was. "He causes trouble and he's out," Sig says gruffly, to which Bass rolls his eyes and complains that Jak's friends need to get new material.

[shadesofeco]

You know this thing isn't meant to be eaten raw, right? It tastes terrible when it's cooked -- most things in the desert do -- but it's fucking vile unheated and Jak manages maybe two chunks before gagging and refusing the rest.

They'll get some roast kangarat or something, shit.

"We've seen movement in the Metalpede caves, even the Marauders are steering clear." Sig keeps his eyes on Bass as he wanders, just in case he breaks anything. "You wanna go blast some eggs for me?"

Jak really does try to bite back his grin, but he's so sick of KG bases and blowing up a bunch of Metal Heads sounds way more fun. "I think we can hang around a few more days. Bass, you in?"