#Jak had absolutely no idea what to do with a toddler and it shows

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

Warnings for this oneshot: some blood/gore/horror elements, implied unethical experiments, brief description of a panic attack. The ----- line will mark the end of that scene. TWs will be tagged below.

(Also I stole some fake swear words from Star Wars because they still roll off the tongue well)

"Awww crap. No no no no-"

Jak looked away from the arguing Samoses to see Daxter peering up at the next level of the prison. The one he'd been trying not to think about.

"What?"

Daxter looked back at him with a terrible expression. "...Praxis doesn't have the kid, right? He'd be bragging all over the city about it if he had the kid."

Jak swallowed, but it felt like there was a rock in his throat. "He'd never shut up about it if he'd hurt Mar."

His own voice was shaky a Daxter's fear spread to him.

Not the kid, not Mar, please please, anything but that-!

"Then he got somebody else's kid. Or something else's kid." Daxter climbed up to the pipes between floors and pointed to a sickly glow. "And uh...it didn't like the guards much."

Jak was through the hole in seconds, even as every cell in his body told him that he didn't want to look. Didn't want to know what couldn't be unknown. He gagged as the stench of blood and meat hit him like a wall. This...this wasn't the sweaty antiseptic smell of the Chair.

Two dead KG lay crumpled on the floor, barely recognizable as human beneath the clotted gore obscuring what little remained of their faces. Deep furrows had been clawed into the skin, deep enough to expose bone. The stench of offal did not quite cover the acid pulse of dark eco. Jak could guess what kind of being had inflicted these wounds.

Had Praxis continued the experiment after he'd escaped? Had he finally been successful?

Jak’s stomach lurched as he recognized a third body -- or the uniform and rank insignia hanging in tatters, at least -- slumped against an open tank of some kind. Ignoring the whispered shouts of Samos down below, Jak gingerly stepped over the corpses to examine the tank.

Subject 0401-B its label read, 304 days gestation.

Bile burned in Jak’s throat.

0401 was the number they'd applied to him in the DWP. What was 0401-B? What had they started growing ten months ago?

Wet, smacking noises drew his eyes unwillingly to the dark space beneath an examination table. A trail of dark blood painted a streak all the way to...something's...hiding place. In and out of the mess, tiny footprints peppered the floor. They were no bigger than the Kid's.

Jak coughed and gagged, desperately holding back what little was in his stomach. He didn't want to look, but he did.

Something was hunched over beneath the table, covered in the leathery scales of a metalhead. A long, spiked tail twitched restlessly as shark-black eyes stared back at Jak emotionlessly. The figure had the proportions of a small child, almost like Mar -- thick, stubby limbs, a large head with soft, round cheeks -- but there the similarities ended. Ghost-white hide peeked out beneath cracked and flaking red-brown stains that covered the majority of 0401-B's face and torso. It cocked its head like a little bird, examining Jak, and slit nostrils flared.

"Oh my gods," Jak heard himself whisper, as if from miles away. "No no no no-"

The thing made an ungainly hop towards Jak, coming further into the light. A mane of pale gray hair, matted and tangled, fell across a narrow back, and an all too familiar pair of tiny black horns rose from the thing's head.

It was Dark Jak. It was a monster. A demon.

It was a child.

"What the hell?" Daxter croaked, skittering back towards the hole they'd come up from.

"Hell" was putting it mildly.

The dark eco creature's long ears twitched -- notched ears, Jak’s ears -- and it chirped. Carelessly, it dropped the half eaten head of what had once been Commander Errol and took a tentative step into the light.

It was -- he was -- naked, digitigrade. A hybrid of a human and a Centurion metalhead. In place of a skull gem, his horns pulsed with whatever eco he'd consumed from his prey.

Jak felt lightheaded.

"Prrp?"

The little monster dropped to a crouch, and hopped closer, balanced on tiptoe and fat clawed fingers. He sniffed at Jak, and a disturbingly innocent smile spread across his face.

There were a lot of fangs in that smile.

"What do we do?"

Daxter's voice echoed strangely.

"What do we- ohboy. Jak? Jak, stay with me. Don't look at the evil baby. Look at me. Look at me, pal."

Too late.

"I ca- I can't," Jak gasped, "I can't breathe-"

He curled into a protective ball as dark eco rushed to fill his skin like a protective layer, broadening his shoulders with the crack of joints. It didn't completely cancel the pain of growing a foot taller and a pair of horns in the span of three seconds, but it mitigated it somewhat. Now as pale as the...the not-Jak, he huddled with his hands over his ears. Block out the noise. Block out the lights. Focus on something small. Breathe, breathe, breathe-

"Urr?"

The creature looked different through Dark Jak’s eyes. He would have expected it -- him -- to register as a threat the way other metalheads did. To activate his hunting instincts. But the experiment just felt...familiar. Like someone he'd seen before but didn't really know. He also was very clearly not a threat. Not to Jak.

The child reached up with bloodied hands, instinct driving him to seek comfort. Trembling violently, Dark Jak lowered his arms and let the child use them to climb up to his chest and settle there. Blank-faced and hollow-eyed, he was motionless.

What had Praxis done?

What had he done?!

"Oh kriff, is that Errol?"

Daxter began to retch as he lifted a paw to avoid stepping on...well, he couldn't readily identify the body part anymore, but it certainly wasn't attached to its owner.

"Or...was, I guess."

He didn't feel too badly about vomiting on it.

______________________________________

"Jak? What's happening up there? We have to go! Now! What did you-"

Tess shrieked and jumped back when Jak dropped through the ceiling with something covered in blood in his arms. He was pale, pupils larger than they should've been. Tess knew that meant something up there had made him transform. And it probably had to do with the thing squirming in his arms.

"What is that?!"

"It's a kid."

Jak tucked the scarf closer around the child, hoping against hope no one would notice the tail -- the dead giveaway that the poor thing was part metalhead. "Praxis...he t- he tried to make another Dark Warrior. We have to get him out of here."

His voice was flat. Almost expressionless. There was a lot going on behind those eyes.

"And the guards?" Tess asked, eyeing the gap in the ceiling.

It was Daxter who answered in Jak’s stead, in a colder voice than any of them had ever heard.

"Errol will never hurt my pal again. He'll never hurt anyone again."

Ohhh. Oh that was going to shake up the Baron’s plans. Errol was both his meanest guard dog and his designated racing champion to keep the nobles pacified. Without the useless nobleman scion, he'd already lost control of the races. The Krimzon Guard would break down in organization too. Or at least, they would if Tess had anything to say about it.

"Good," she breathed, "Good. Thank the Precursors. Did he- did he hurt the- the baby?"

A tiny spark of life kindled in Jak’s eyes.

"It didn't end well for him," he rasped, and fell silent again.

Samos the Elder tiptoed to look at the toddler's face, then immediately began to howl about dark eco contamination. Samos the Younger simply looked uncomfortable with the presence of a child. Neither of them were going to be of any use in a crisis, clearly.

Tess sprang into action.

"Okay! Here's what we're going to do! Daxter, get Jak and this poor baby to Safehouse 8. I'll take these two back to HQ and deal with Torn. Check the kid for injuries, and we'll figure out what to do from there. Okay? Okay. Let's move, people."

Daxter sighed dreamily as he climbed up onto Jak’s shoulder. "Gods, I love a woman who takes charge in a crisis," he cooed.

It was almost enough to distract him from the extreme amount of blood covering the too-small kid with Jak's ears.

Nobody wanted to think about how he'd come to be.

If Jak was more violent than usual on the way out of the prison, Daxter didn't point it out. All he did was stay out of the way when Dark Jak came out to get hands-on with the idiot guarding their exit. The monster kid got very excited when Jak transformed the second time, chirping and squealing like a possessed bird.

When they'd broken out once more, pelting through the streets in pouring rain, they didn't stop to think. Jak knew if he pondered this little...person's...existence beyond cursory knowledge, it would shatter the pieces of himself he'd managed to put back together so far. So he just wouldn't think about it.

It was a kid. Errol hurt it. It killed Errol. End of story.

"Hang on kid. We're out of here."

A glance down revealed the beginnings of a far less sinister face as the rain finally began to break through the blood caked on the child’s skin. He blinked up at Jak with wide eyes.

"It's- it's not your fault. Okay? No matter- whatever people say, it isn't your fault," Jak croaked as they ran. "You didn't choose this. You're just a kid. It's not your fault."

He wasn't sure if he was talking to the kid, or to himself.

___[Three Hours Later, in the safe house]___

"Eep?"

"Wha- no! No, you can't eat that!"

Jak dropped his gun and dove for the kid, snatching a Scattergun cartridge from his chubby fingers.

The child looked at him with complete betrayal, opened his wide little mouth, and began to scream.

The boys looked at each other in panic. Someone was bound to hear that racket.

"Just let him have it!" Daxter yelped, covering his ears, "Metalheads eat eco, don't they?!"

"I don't know how much of him is metalhead!" Jak argued, "I don't want him to get hurt- Ow!"

The demon baby had decided to lodge a complaint with management in the form of locking his jaws around Jak’s forearm. He couldn’t penetrate the gauntlet fully, but there would definitely be bruises.

Without stopping to think, Jak grabbed the tot's cheeks and squeezed.

"Getoff!"

The demon baby growled at him.

"Let go, you little croc!" Jak increased the pressure. "Knock it off, or I'll bite you! See how you like it!'

He had absolutely no idea if the kid could understand a word he said. He certainly didn't act like he was listening.

So he shrugged and bit the kid's finger.

It wasn't hard. It didn't even dent the skin! But the kid yowled and fell back like he'd been struck a mortal blow. He wailed, holding up the afflicted finger to Jak.

"Well that's what happens," Jak scoffed. "You bite me, I'll bite you right back. Don't like it? Keep your teeth to yourself!"

The toddler sniffled, and in spite of himself, Jak softened. He groaned and gingerly lifted the kid under the armpits to set him on the cot beside him.

"Look. Just don't do it again, okay, Croc?"

"Ah," said the hybrid solemnly. The gurgling sound almost mimicked speech, as if he were copying Jak.

"Huh. You're kind of cold. Are you supposed to be that temperature?" Jak frowned.

He had absolutely no idea what counted as "normal" for something that had probably never existed before. Mar was always a little space heater-

Jak stubbornly buried thoughts of the kid deep in his mind. Not now. He needed to focus, and be able to keep his mind in the fight. He could let the "what-ifs" paralyze him later.

"Uh...here. I guess we should give you something to wear," Jak finally decided, "You are pretty naked. You...probably don't know what that means, though."

Daxter grimaced and slowly took his fingers out of his ears. "I am not babyproofing this safe house without coffee and financial compensation," he announced, "But if you can keep the little chomper busy for a couple minutes, I can see what passes for the sacred bean juice around here."

In the five minutes it took Daxter to brew some burnt, dark roast sludge, Jak had come up with a solution for the toddler's temperature.

It was not the solution Daxter had hoped for.

"No. Absolutely not. We have to find some clothes for him."

Daxter slammed a fist into his palm the second he put the foam coffee cups down. "One involuntary nudist in this family is bad enough! And he doesn't have strategic fur like I do!"

"What's wrong with what he's wearing?" Jak groused.

Daxter stared at him until his left eye began to twitch.

"What's wrong with-? HE'S WEARING A PILLOWCASE!"

The newly named Croc paused in his endless game of trying to catch his own tail to chirp questioningly. His limbs stuck haphazardly out of the pillowcase Jak had cut holes in, but it was more than he'd worn in the lab.

Daxter dropped his face into his palm. "Do you think that little menace is potty-trained? Do you? Because I can almost guarantee he is not!"

That hadn't occurred to Jak. He cringed and glanced at the hybrid. "Uh...how...do you potty-train a kid? Mar already knows how to go by himself, I think. But he's not. Like. A baby...thing."

Daxter huffed and began digging through drawers. "Short answer? You don't. Not in the middle of a war you don't. We're gonna need diapers. So many diapers. Do they make diapers with tail holes? Probably not. Oh- and wipes. I don't know if scaly butts get rashes but I don't wanna find out."

Jak groaned. "I don't know how to take care of a kid this little! We are kids!"

"Well do you wanna leave him with the Underground after their stellar show of babysitting skills thus far?" asked Daxter sarcastically.

"Kriff no!" Jak spat. He dragged grimy fingers down his cheeks and growled in frustration. "Can't ask Sig, he'd probably think the kid was a metalhead and try to hunt him or something."

"Eep! Ooooo!" Croc gathered himself, tail lashing, then made a leap for the bed.

He hit the edge and bounced off with an indignant squeak.

"Well," Jak said after examining him for a second, "He's durable, at least."

Far less angsty Croc Shenanigans to follow later this afternoon