#it's kleiver

[troblsomtwins829]

I have an uncontrollable urge to create an OC and a story for that OC with the least appropriate (but most reasonable) character in the fandom to be in charge of their wellbeing.

I also have an uncontrollable urge to give the most gruff and tough tower of a man a small little ray of sunshine that absolutely refuses to leave him alone.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Well, not a snippet. A whole durn one-shot. No title yet, so let's just call it "Responsible Adults, or, Damas Wants A Raise"

(This mentions a hilarious headcanon that rose from a discussion of game weapons with @troblsomtwins829 and @segaphantom , one I intend to use from now on, where it was decided that red eco shockwave ammo is what Wastelanders give their kids when they're first learning trigger discipline, and Jak is the equivalent of a kid bringing down a grizzly bear with a plastic baseball bat. Also featuring swears borrowed from Watership Down because rabbit language is a lot of fun tbh)

It should have been a perfectly straightforward event. Fourteen candidates who had finally passed the initial terrain tests to Kleiver's satisfaction, finally able to go at it with weapons. Only Scatterguns for now, of course. Live ammunition would wait for those who passed their first trial. Those left standing would receive their gate pass and first amulet, everyone who had dodged the lava but not their comrades' shockwaves would be scraped off the sand and delivered to the on-site hospital. They would have to wait another month to retake their trial.

It was standard procedure.

They'd done it hundreds of times.

But this time, it was immediately apparent that something was amiss.

One man broke out of the pack before Damas could even explain what was expected of a first trial. He ran between the cover provided by the matter formers like his life depended on it, gun swinging uselessly on his back.

Well. That one probably wasn't going to last.

Damas sighed and checked the tiny screen that showed him the Arena from a closer view. Oh. That was the Krimzon Guard who had turned up at the temple, begging for clemency in the wake of Praxis's death.

Well if he survived this, his record was clean. But if he didn't-

Well that was one less Krimzon Guard in the world.

Behind him, down the stairs leading to the interior corridors of the Arena, Damas heard an alarm siren. He frowned. What could be so urgent as to sound an alarm back there? Was a patient coding?

The king twitched one ear back to listen for details while glancing periodically at the ring.

"All personnel, all personnel, be on the lookout: an unaccompanied minor is missing from Ward 2. Light hair, underweight, believed to be experiencing medical distress-"

Damas blinked. How on earth had a patient gotten out of the children's ward without someone noticing? Oh, Dr. Petros was going to spit fire when he found out.

"It's going to be one of those days," Damas grumbled, rubbing his forehead, "I can already tell."

He was correct.

A chorus of surprised voices began shouting in the stands, and Damas squinted down into the Arena. Amidst the chaos, the tattooed soldier formerly of Haven was still fleeing for his life. He occasionally fired behind him, but focused mainly on looking for a way out of the Arena. And now Damas could actually see his pursuer.

The figure was small -- tiny, compared to most of the candidates in both height and weight. It wove in and out of the combatants with an unusual speed and grace. But something was wrong.

"What the-"

Damas stood.

"Asa," he said into a handheld radio, "Don't activate the lava. Can you get eyes on the field and tell me if I'm actually seeing someone in hospital scrubs out there?"

"If what?!"

The man running the matter formers went silent as he peered out of his booth further down the wall.

"Bloody Frith! That guy doesn't even have a gun! They're not allowed to be unarmed for trials!"

"No, no they are not." Damas tightened his jaw. "But if he's unarmed-"

Then what's the Krimzon so afraid of?

The mystery candidate passed near the drone camera, and Damas almost dropped the screen entirely.

"Embleer Frith!" he swore, "It's that kid!"

It was the boy he'd found in the desert, barely alive, the one with a dead man's beacon in his hand. It had only been two days! Foundlings weren't permitted to take Arena trials until they had been declared medically sound for three consecutive days after their rescue!

Damas suddenly remembered the call from Petros, informing him that the young man was not, in fact, an adult from Haven. That he was in reality a young boy, covered with some deeply concerning scars. And the doctor had been very insistent about the foundling not being of age for combat trials.

The alarm from the hospital continued to blare, and Damas had a sinking feeling that the unaccompanied minor and the kid he'd hauled out of the desert were one and the same.

Who had allowed this?! The foundling definitely hadn't passed the terrain test yet -- he hadn't even reached the minimum age allowed to compete yet! He never should have gotten past Kleiver in the waiting hatch!

"Oh don't tell me," he breathed.

The Arena had been compromised. And that meant that the results of the fourteen candidates' initial combat trial were compromised. If Kleiver didn't have an incredible explanation for this, heads were going to roll.

Below, the boy had caught up to his quarry. Every single blast of the Scattergun, he dodged. Then the former guard shouted something; Damas couldn't make it out, but from the footage his lips seemed to be forming the word "free" or "freak".

Yells of both excitement and alarm filled the stands as the renegade patient just

Changed.

Purple sparks flickered over his body, like lightning. Every part of his body the sparks touched drained of all color. This was not the pallor of the dead, this was the white of bleached bone, and teeth. Black horns rose from ragged hair. Black claws were barely visible on each hand. At this distance, even his eyes looked black.

What. Was. That.

The KG screeched, firing without aiming. But the demonic boy launched too quickly to be tracked by the drone, taking the guard to ground. Damas knew without looking that the man was dying. He didn't even scream. There was only a pitiful gurgle as claws pierced his throat.

Damas turned the volume as far up on his screen as he could, just in time for the monstrous form to recede, to vanish as though it had been a mere hallucination. Spattered with blood, the boy from the desert stood up on shaking legs. Just barely, the drone caught his vicious hiss.

"Not so funny when you're the one with a mouth full of blood, huh, Tyber?"

He spat on the dying man.

And then his knees buckled.

Damas had seen enough.

"Stop the trial!" He commanded, waving guards towards the Arena. "The Arena is compromised! Get the candidates back to barracks, and send Kleiver to me, immediately."

He started to leave the booth, then turned back to the radio again.

"And find whoever was in charge of Ward 2 this week! And for the love of the Precursors get that kid out of my Arena!"

Oh, heads were going to roll.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jak could hear shouting long before the creaking wooden platform reached the top of the shaft. He'd already been tense when the two big Wastelanders pulled him off the cot someone had dropped him on. If one of them hadn't been carrying Daxter, it was very likely that Jak would have tried to kill them, too. Now he started tugging experimentally at his arms, checking their grip.

"Quit!" One of them scowled at him. "The king’s mad as it is, don't make it worse!"

"-Didn't drag that kid off death’s doorstep just for you two to send him right back!" A raspy voice was yelling, "So you tell me, Rezzik, how a patient -- who Petros already told me was a minor based on musculoskeletal scans -- got into the Arena -- unarmed -- during a combat trial!"

The voice that responded was the skinny guy Jak had shoved away from him when he first woke up.

"Sire, the boy just-"

"I didn't ask about the boy! Tell me what you did! You were in charge of the children's ward this week, not the boy! When I want to hear the boy's side of things, I'll ask him myself!"

The other guards holding Jak's arms sucked on his teeth nervously.

"Oh, he's pissed," he whispered. "I wouldn't want to be the nurse right now."

"Or Kleiver. They're in deep weeds," the other agreed.

The elevator locked into place and, for a moment, Jak forgot the shouting. They were inside. And there was water. Water. Inside. Vast pools of it like an indoor oasis. Trees lined the room, dropping the temperature by several degrees. And this had been built by hu'men hands! How?!

"Well there he is." The raspy voiced man -- oh, Jak had seen the guy with the staff on that balcony of that stadium -- made an impatient gesture in his direction.

"Back from the dead, are you? You've certainly caused a fuss, young one. Care to tell me exactly what you were doing unarmed in a combat trial?"

"A combat what?" Jak answered the question with a question.

The man with the staff steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. He inhaled sharply and wheeled to face the skinny medic.

"Rezzik!"

Rezzik put his hands up defensively. "He was unconscious, my lord! He wasn't expected to even be lucid until Se'enday!"

The king dropped his face into his palm.

"Oh my gods," he groaned, "He doesn't even know where he is, does he?"

"Uh, "he" is right here," Daxter snapped.

Every person but Jak jolted.

"It talks?!"

"Oh what the rot what the rot-"

"Oh that's so cursed-"

"Why does it talk?!"

Daxter whistled sharply.

"Yes yes, I'm a miracle of premodern medicine. Moving on! Who are you mooks, where are we, and what's all this about Jak and a combat trial?!"

Jak glowered at the ground.

"Saw Tyber. From the prison. He's dead now."

Daxter's ears drooped and his eyes widened. "Oh..."

He reached down to pat Jak's shoulder.

"The creep had it comin', Jak. You did good."

"Well. Considering you apparently weren't conscious until now, you can't be expected to have known," the man who was probably the king groused, "but entry into the Arena is restricted to those aged eighteen and older for a reason. So. What I need to know is who let you through that gate."

He pointed at the sullen man with the big mustache.

"Did he or did he not make any attempt to stop you?"

Frankly, Jak couldn't remember much about how he got onto that field.

"Wouldn't have mattered if he did or didn't," he muttered, "he couldn't have stopped me."

The king narrowed his eyes at him. Then he seemed to actually see him.

"Ah, what are we doing- Jin, Faro, let go of the kid! Get him some water for the gods sakes, he just passed out on the battlefield!"

Then he turned to look at the guy he'd called Kleiver.

His voice was much quieter now. And somehow that was more frightening.

"Kleiver, you know the procedure for new arrivals," he said softly. "Three days' recovery and approval from Maud or Petros before First Trial. So what made you let a boy in hospital clothes through that gate?"

The big man sneered. "Did you see the anklebiter?! He was out for blood! He ended up fine, di'n't he?"

"Fine?! Look at him!" The king gestured sharply in frustration. "He's wearing pajamas!"

"If he'd passed out two minutes sooner he could've died!" Rezzik gasped, appalled.

"Sire, this clearly wasn't the hospital's failure," he said, turning to the king. "This oaf put my patient in danger and-"

"Enough." Damas held up his hand, face hard.

"You are both to blame for what ultimately derailed the trials of fourteen candidates. Rezzik, I leave your penalty to be decided by your superiors. But Kleiver-"

He glared.

"Your only chance at retaining your position is if that boy had an extremely valid reason for hunting down that candidate."

Jak edged away from the guard offering him a canteen. "What counts as valid to you?" he asked pointedly.

The king paced to the edge of his dais, watching Jak with eyes a little too knowing. He folded one arm behind his back and studied him with none of the fire that had been directed at his own people.

"Newcomer, I will ask you only once, and you need only answer once. The man you killed: did he give you those scars?"

Jak went rigid.

They'd seen his scars.

They knew.

Nausea rocked him, crawling up his throat and tasting of shame.

"Boy?" The king pressed, "Did-"

"No." Jak practically spat the word out. "He kept me from escaping. He laughed. And now he's dead. Got a problem with that?"

The king scoffed slightly. He glanced back at Kleiver.

"You are fortunate today. I will retroactively approve an exception for the boy this once as a case of justified retribution. Do not let it happen again."

"Sire," Rezzik piped up again -- guy just didn't know when to keep his mouth shut -- "Arena exceptions must have signed affidavits from the guardian of the minor, mustn't they? As the attending physician, shall I-"

"Don't be a pot-stirrer, Rezzik," Damas said flatly.

Jak muffled a snort and exchanged amused glances with Daxter. At least he wasn't the one getting yelled at.

"No," Damas said, tense again and gritting his teeth, "Since apparently I am the only reasonable adult in this entire godsforsaken room today, I'll complete the affidavit."

He waved dismissively at the group.

"Do not compromise the trials of our candidates again. Negligence costs lives, and weakens our city, gentlemen."

Kleiver looked like he had a few choice words to say about that, but he dipped his head respectfully and marched away without a word. Jin and Faro cringed at each other, then made to grab Jak's shoulder.

"Come on, kid. You need to go back to the doc-"

Jak shoved Jin away and stumbled back.

"Don't touch me!"

Rezzik raised his hands placatingly, approaching as if the boy was a frightened baby animal.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, we only want to help you! I know you must be scared, but if you'll just let us get you back on the IV-"

Jak didn't hear anything else after that.

They were going to inject something into him.

They were going to strap him down and inject something into him-!

His breath shortened as he ducked Jin again. Faro was surprised enough by the elbow strike to his gut to loosen his grip on his gunstaff, and that was all Jak needed.

He ripped the weapon from the guard's hands and swung it in a wide arc, eyes wild.

"Get. Back."

Daxter snarled next to Jak’s ear. "Nobody touches my pal. Keep your filthy needles to yourself, or better yet, stick them up your-"

"Hey! Come on!" Faro complained, "That's custom, kid! You can't just jack a Wastelander's peacemaker, that's just not on!"

"You're not taking me back."

Jak swung the gunstaff again.

"I'm not going back there!

You can't take me back! I won't go back!"

Damas frowned and started down the steps. "What the bloody bones did you people do to make him do...that?!"

"That's...that's what I was trying to tell you before, sire," Rezzik said meekly as he backed away from Jak, "We didn't release him from care, he had some kind of...panic episode. Ripped out the IV and nearly killed Jessop on the way out."

The grinding of teeth was audible even at the bottom of the stairs.

"Petros is going to strangle you if he finds that you didn't take precautions with newcomer trauma," Damas said sharply.

"But we didn't know-! He was unconscious!"

"Get out."

Damas pointed to the elevator.

"Send Petros up here with his file after he deals with you."

When the guards didn't immediately follow the medic, Damas growled. "All of you get out! I've had enough foolishness for one day!"

"Sire," Jin gulped, "The uh, the boy-?"

"He's fine. I have to ask him questions for paperwork now thanks to at least one of you."

That left Jak and Daxter alone with the really really pissed off Wastelander King. (He hadn't even known there were enough Wastelanders to have a king!)

For almost a minute the man paced, swearing very colorfully under his breath. After six or seven very slow, deep breaths, he finally seemed to get control of himself again.

"How do you see needle scars and not think "hm, perhaps someone should stay with him to explain when he wakes up"? It's not that complicated!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

"Is it the full moon this week? It must be. Everyone's lost their twice-rotted minds around here."

He took another deep breath, and after letting it out slowly, he sat down on the edge of the dais.

"Well, I can hardly think of a worse introduction to Spargus than that, but I hope you won't hold it against me."

Jak kept the staff clutched tightly in his hands, but didn't aim it at the man yet.

"Who are you? And what's Spargus? I know it isn't in Haven. Nobody cares what age you are in Haven."

"Definitely not Haven." Damas buried a curse in his hands.

"Gods I hate that place."

Daxter scowled. "Join the club."

"My name is Damas. I am the king of the territory of Spargus, and the man who pulled you out of the desert that surrounds us. And you are going to be an interesting case, I can tell."

Damas used his staff to drag a box from the side of the throne to just beside him. After some digging, he came up with an oddly shaped piece of metal.

"Ah. There it is."

He looked up.

"This is a battle amulet. Earning three grants adult newcomers citizenship and equal legal protections in the city."

"What if you're not an adult?" Jak challenged.

"Then you're already a citizen, but you can't vote until you're nineteen." Damas dismissed this as if it barely warranted mentioning.

"Now, understand this, boy: I am giving you your first amulet. And I will give you the modular gun. But you will not be allowed to take further trials until you pass eighteen years of age. I will hold your gate pass until such time as you can show me you have learned to survive in the wastes out there."

"You're keeping us here?!" Jak bristled.

"You're a minor. You had heatstroke. It happens. And since my people want to be idiots today evidently, you and I are going to be stuck with each other for a couple years. So you'd better get used to this place." Damas turned and stood up to stretch.

"Frith-rot-it. I have to go get the bloody intake forms, make a whole folder now- Do we even have more guardian ad litem forms?!"

He stepped somewhere behind the throne and seemed to vanish. "Amuse yourselves while I'm gone. No drowning in my throne room.".

And then he was gone , leaving the boys with more questions.

"What...what just happened?" Daxter asked.

Jak didn't have an answer.

[worlds-largest-juice-container]

i love making terrible memes for things i'm obssesed with

[shallot23]

Kleiver, The Zealot

[my-personal-domain]

I made Kleiver.

[headlesslezus]

Kleiver

[roundboard]

it’s kleiver baby

[yuri-immolation]

kleiver's titties 🤤

[damienogg]

Not Chaotic related but I wrote a Jak and Daxter one shot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64068820

[double--cross-d]

TLDR of my disaster(pos) of a first full run

[troblsomtwins829]

So I indoctrinated my friend into loving Jak and Daxter as much as I do, and they've also made an OC. IT took a while to work out the design with them, but our sweet softboi racer has fully come together.

This is Alistar, also known as "Super Nova"

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Monday: Blackmail au

Prologue

"Travel the stars with us," the Precursors said, "Become one of us."

"I will," answered the hero, "but only on one condition: in the next iteration of this endless cycle, let the child have his family. Let at least one iteration of us know his father."

"If we allow this," said the Precursors, "you will still be the chosen hero. You will still hold the blood of Mar. And you will still suffer. But for one lifetime, we will let the child be a separate person, in exchange for your service in this lifetime."

"Then it is agreed," said the hero, and so the wheel of time turned, changing direction ever so slightly.

Part One: The Bargain

"Ah, there he is, right on schedule." Krew chortled as Jak slipped through the pub door.

There were a lot of people at the bar, all Wastelanders. Tess shot a worried look at Jak, but kept her bubbly smile up. What was going on? Were these friends of Sig’s? Jak wasn't so sure, considering the concerned grimace Sig was sporting.

One of the newcomers, a broad, scarred man with a drooping mustache, stood up and approached Jak slowly.

"Yep," he drawled, circling the boys, "Nipper's got the eyes alright. Same jaw, too." He snorted. "Heh. And here I was afraid you was losin' your touch, Krew. Right. We'll take 'im."

"Excuse me?" Daxter sputtered.

"Sorry, Jak," Krew said without the slightest shred of sincerity, "But after that little racing stunt of yours, I had to do some thinking. I've got a lot of money riding on Errol winning that final race. I'm afraid you've just become too expensive to keep on. No hard feelings, eh? It's just business."

"Ok?" Jak eyed the Wastelanders suspiciously. "And that's supposed to keep me from racing because...?"

"Because you're under new management, shall we say." Krew gestured to the Wastelanders. "Don't think of it as being fired! Think of it as a transfer of sorts."

Daxter bristled. "You wanna run that by us again, Morning Breath?"

Instead, the Wastelander turned on his heel to face Krew. "Now, you an' me, we both know you're askin' too high for the state the brat's in. Come on, Krew, you ain't fed him this whole time?"

Jak went rigid and began to back towards the door. Whatever was happening here, he wanted no part of it.

"Well it's wholly up to your lord's discretion, of course," Krew said, oily smooth, "If you can't come up with the price, I'm sure the Baron would pay fairly for a soldier of Jak's caliber."

One of the women at the bar laughed meanly. "Lordship said you might say that. He also said to remind you that you could do that, but only if you feel like being hanged with your own entrails."

Krew fanned himself and hovered higher. "Oh dear me, that sounds like bad blood, doesn't it? Speaking of blood, you'd best get moving if you don't want to lose the boy, there. I'm not responsible for losses incurred during pickup."

Jak had barely gotten out the door before they were on him. Someone grabbed Daxter from his shoulder, and four more sets of hands pinned his arms. These weren't weak, exhausted Havenites. Or indolent KG looking for excitement. These were real Wastelanders, and they were more than a match for Jak's struggles.

"Let him go, rot you!" he snarled, lunging for the woman holding Daxter by the scruff, "Get your hands off him!"

"Easy, boy, easy." The woman took a step back. "Just gonna hang onto Shorty here as insurance."

Sig finally managed to push his way through the crowd and elbowed one of Jak's captors in the gut, hard. As the man doubled over, Sig ripped his hands off of Jak's arm.

"Hands off my rookies," he hissed.

"Sig, w- what- what- what-" Jak could barely speak. Rage and terror constricted his lungs, his throat.

"I don't know, cherry." Sig shook his head grimly. "But I'm gonna find out. No matter what happens, you stick close to me and do as I do, okay? We're gonna get you through this."

Then he shoved the rest of the Wastelanders away, one by one. They parted like wheat before the wind, like they knew Sig. Like they respected him. The second he was free, Jak had to lock his knees to keep from collapsing. He couldn't even bring himself to be angry that they could all see him trembling uncontrollably. Krew had sold him to Wastelanders like a piece of meat. Like a slave. What would happen to the search for the Tomb if he was imprisoned in the Wastes? Would The Shadow force the Kid to search in Jak’s stead? He wouldn't put it past him, not after the jobs they'd sent him to do.

"Oh, I do so love facilitating family reunions!" Krew cooed, hovering at the door, "It warms the heart! And me wallet!"

He waggled his fingers meaningfully and cast greedy eyes over a trunk the one called Kleiver kicked in his direction.

"Mmyes, tell your liege lord I'll keep me eyes peeled for the smaller brat, eh?"

Jak's already chilled blood froze. He lunged for Krew, barely restrained by Sig at the last second.

"Don't touch him!" he growled, "Don't you even look at him! I'll kill you! I'll rotting kill you!"

Jak didn't see the Wastelanders around him, even Sig, suddenly exchange extremely grim looks. But when Sig tugged him away from the bar and towards the waterfront, he knew something had changed.

"Quiet, cherry," Sig hissed in his ear. "You're gonna have the Guard down on us with that yelling, and I don't want to give Krew any ideas about collecting that bounty on you!"

They had to physically drag him into the air train, and even that was only possible because the woman holding Daxter captive went in first. Cursing Sig every step, Jak struggled in vain to get his arms free.

"Jak!" Sig finally exploded, "Knock it off! We're trying to save your ass, here!"

"I didn't ask for your help!" Jak aimed a kick behind him and met hard metal armor. Memories of the prison clawed at the edge of his mind, threatening to pull him back into a dark place.

"You have no right-! You can't buy- you- you-"

His breathing became rapid and labored. "I am not a thing!" he screamed, finally breaking free.

Seconds too late. The hatch was closed.

"Jak! Jak, look at me, kiddo, look at me!" Sig desperately tried to grab his arm.

"I don't know what's going on, you gotta believe me. But I know Krew wasn't joking about selling you to Praxis, and I'd die before I let that bastard get his hands on you again."

Kleiver curled his lip at them from across the hold. "Paid a ransom that coulda fed a garrison for a month and this is the thanks we get? Ungrateful brat is what you are."

Sig glared at him. "Ransom?! You walked in there talking like an auction! Who's ransoming Jak?"

The woman holding Daxter spoke up.

"Lord Damas wants him. Krew contacted him, month back. Said he had proof the Heir of Mar abandoned a bastard son during the coup and if nobody came forward to "take responsibility", he'd out him to Praxis."

Jak went very, very still. Was Krew using him to defraud someone? Wouldn't be out of character. But where had he gotten the idea to pass Jak off as the lost Heir? And did that mean little Mar was abandoned? If he was, Jak knew he was going to make this so-called lord in question pay in blood for it.

"Jak? Bull. Damas lost the baby in the coup. He didn't abandon him." Sig snapped.

"Not on purpose, at least," Kleiver snorted. “If you was carryin’ a deposed king’s brat during a hostile takeover, would you say anything?”

Sig tightened his jaw and said nothing.

Jak didn't know how long they were in the air train. He'd blocked everything out. The Wastelanders, Sig, even Daxter. He'd shut them out and retreated into the one corner of his mind where the darkness couldn't touch him. The place where he remembered the sound of the ocean, and warm waves against his ankles. He was free there, and they couldn't take the sea from him.

When they landed, he didn't even notice until a blinding light pierced the hold-

Along with the smell of salt air.

Jak raised his head slowly, squinting through hanks of hair into the light. His free place in his mind didn't have the smell of the sea. Why did he smell salt?

"Everybody out!" Kleiver bellowed, "You know I don't like monks, so let's get this over with, yeah?"

Sig wrapped an arm around Jak’s shoulders and pulled him to his feet. "Stay close, kids," he murmured, and Jak finally realized that now he had Daxter. "I...don't know what to tell you. But I'm gonna do whatever I can to keep you two safe, okay?"

They exited onto a spire of rock, high above what seemed like an endless stretch of desert on one side, and a turbulent sea on the other. A Precursor temple sat before them, surrounded by ruined columns and porticos. Three zoomer-like vehicles were parked near a tiny natural waterfall, which seemed to mean something to the Wastelanders.

"Welp. He's already here." The woman in the yellow turban sighed. "Fingers crossed this checks out, everybody."

She waved to Sig.

"Get him inside before noon, huh? I don't feel like losing a layer of skin to the sun, thanks."

It was nearly ten degrees colder inside the temple. Personally, Daxter thought the weird people dressed in rubber emanated half the chill themselves. One of them approached Sig, holding a small plastic cup. Their eyes flicked to Jak, and they held out the cup with a bored expression.

"Blood or saliva sample," they said flatly.

Jak balked. "What?"

Sig cringed. "They want to...to see if you're who Krew claimed you are. Just...spit in the cup, kid. Their computer will tell them if Krew was lying or not."

When it became clear that the monk wasn’t going to leave until they got what they were after, Jak begrudgingly spat into the cup. The monk exited the chamber without a word.

Jak spent the next three hours huddled in an alcove, behind a small Precursor statue. He clung to Daxter like a lifeline, glaring out at the monks and Wastelanders watching him and whispering amongst themselves. Any time one came close, Jak scooted further back into the cloister. None of them looked small enough to get around the statue at the mouth. They couldn't reach him here.

One man in particular wouldn't stop staring at them. He had a commanding presence, despite not being the tallest or broadest in the room. Scars decorated his face and arms, and sharp points of Precursor metal had been set into his skull. Which was admittedly kind of badass. He watched Jak with dark, piercing eyes and a hard set to his jaw. When a monk placidly paced forward and presented the man with a datapad, murmuring, "Positive match, sire," the man's eyes darkened further.

He turned on his heel and disappeared through a door.

"Sire?"

"I'm going to pray," the man snapped in a rough voice. "Leave me. And get the boy some water, for the gods' sake!"

Was that the man who had supposedly paid a ransom for him? Jak retreated into the very back of the cloister and buried his face in Daxter's fur.

"Rot this day. Rot this whole rotting week," he mumbled.

"You said it, pal." Dax wrapped his arms around Jak’s neck and tried to comfort him. "Hey, they made me spit in a cup too! You think their computer will tell them I'm an ottsel? Or a human?"

Jak blinked. "Uh....how smart are computers supposed to be?"

"Like. As smart as Vin, I think?"

Jak shrugged, grateful for the distraction. "Maybe. That'll freak ‘em out, huh?"

"Oh yeah. So what do you think is up with Spikes? Wrong answers only."

"Wrong only? Uh...he just found out he's part marmoset."

"Or his application for a piercing refund was rejected."

"Or," Sig interrupted flatly, "he just found out he had a kid he didn't know was alive, and he's dealing with a lot of guilt right now."

Sig crouched at the mouth of the cloister and looked in at them. He seemed to have aged years since that morning. He held out a hand and sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"Come on out kiddo. We're gonna get you some food, some-"

He closed his eye and shook his head. "Volcan's bones. I...I didn't know- none of us did...gods, he must've snatched you the same year we lost Mar-"

"Mar?" Jak interrupted sharply, "What do you know about Mar?"

When Sig looked up again, Jak was shaken to see tears in his eye.

"I ain't talking about the founder of Haven, cherry. And I don't think you are, either."

He sniffed and cleared his throat. "Little thing. So...he's so- he was so small. Sweetest little kid you ever met, always getting into trouble."

He cleared his throat again and tapped his cybernetic eye. "Only takes a moment. You look away one minute. Not even one full minute. And that's all it takes for the world to end. Praxis sympathizers ambushed us. Shot out my eye and took- took Mar. We never saw him again. But...but I think you did."

Jak's stomach churned, and the world began to spin. Mar? The little boy he'd been so desperate to protect? This had to be some kind of trick, they were trying to trick him into giving up Mar's location so they could get to the Tomb. Daxter's claws dug into his arm, pulling him back to earth before the dark eco could take over.

"I have to go back-" Jak croaked, "You have to take me back- take me back! Take me back! I can't leave him alone!"

Sig shifted and looked up at someone just out of sight.

"I was right," he said heavily, "He knows something."

Next >

[fluffy-moth]

The Good The Bad and The Fool (1966)

staring cranes, kleiver and uuuuuuuuuh you take your pick

1 // 2 // 3 // 4(this) // 5

[mugiwara-lucy]

Even MORE motivation for tomorrow. Remember EVERY innocent person TRAFFICKED to that El Salvadoran TORTURE prison by LIES from Shitbreak Trump, his creepy as VP and fake ass Christian of the house Mike Johnson along with the MAGA Barbie CUNT Karoline Leavitt:

Agelviz Sanguino, Widmer Josneyder

Aguilar Rodriguez, Nolberto Rafael

Aguilera Aguero, Gustavo Adolfo

Albornoz-Quintero, Henrry

Alvarado Borges, Neri

Angulo-Aparicio, Jinder

Aray-Cardona, Jose

Arregoces Rincon, Jose

Azuaje Perez, Nixon Jose

Barreto Villegas, Rolando

Bastidas Venegas, Jose

Basulto-Salinas, Marcos

Batista-Arias, Elvis

Belloso Fuenmayor, Alirio

Benavides Rivas, Yornel Santiago

Blanco-Bonilla, Andry

Blanco-Marin, Angel

Bolivar Cruz, Angel

Bracho Gomez, Victor

Brazon-Lezama, Javiar

Briceno-Gonzalez, Jose

Briceno-Gonzalez, Jean

Bustamante-Dominguez, Robert

Cabrera-Rico, David

Canizalez Arteaga, Carlos

Caraballo Tiapa, Franco

Cardenas-Silva, Johan

Carmona Bastista, Yorbi

Carmona Hernandez, Jose

Cedeno Contreras, Bruce Embelgert

Cedeno-Gil, Andrys

Chacin Gomez, Jhon

Chirinos Romero, Wild

Chivico Medina, Carlos

Colina Arguelles, Rosme

Colina Caseres, Miguel

Colina-Suarez, Alejandro

Colmenares Solorzano, Leonardo Jose

Colmenarez Abreu, Aldo

Contreras-Gonzalez, Yordano

Cornejo Pulgar, Frizgeralth De Jesus

Corrales-Moreno, Emilio

Davila Fernanadez, Luis

Delgado Pina, Aldrin

Depablos Requena, Jheison

Diaz-Lugo, Kleiver

Duarte Rodriguez, Richard

Duran Perez, Joseph Gregory

Echavez-Paz, Leonel

Elista-Jimenez, Robert

Escalona Carrizo, Yender

Escalona Sevilla, Angelo

Escobar Blanco, Pedro

Escobar Falcon, Yolfran

Fernandez Sanchez, Julio Rafael

Fernandez, Yohan

Fernandez-Subero, Mikael

Flores Jimenez, Wilken Rafael

Flores Rodriguez, Jose

Flores-Lopez, Jose

Fonseca Daboin, Cristhofer

Fuenmayor-Crespo, Roneil

Garcia Casique, Francisco

Garcia Abrego, Kilmar

Garcia Prado, Leonardo

Giron Maurera, Richard

Gonzalez Troconis, Julio

Gonzalez Frailan, Jose Leon

Gonzalez Fuenmayor, Angel Jesus

Gonzalez Pineda, Oscar

Gonzalez-Rodriguez, Charlie

Graterol-Farias, Winder

Gualdron Gualdron, Luis

Gualtero Quiroz, Deibin

Guerrero Padron, Keivy

Guevara Munoz, Wilvenson

Guiterrez-Sierra, Wilker

Gutierrez Flores, Merwil

Hernandez Carache, Yeison

Hernandez Carache, Darwin Gerardo

Hernandez Herrera, Edwuar Jose

Hernandez-Hernandez, Jhonnael

Hernandez Gonzalez, Manuel

Hernandez Hernandez, Angel

Hernandez Juarez, Yorby

Hernandez Romero, Andry

Hueck Escobar, Jesus

Hung Mendoza, Jordan

Hurtado Quevedo, Eddie Adolfo

Indriago-Alvarez, Donovan

Izaguirre-Granado, Randy

Jaimes-Rincon, Yeison

Jerez-Hernandez, Yohendry

Justo Garcia, Jose

Laya-Freites, Jefferson

Leal-Bautista, Keiber

Leal-Estrada, Kervin

Lemus Cagua, Diego

Lizcano-Basto, Josue

Lopez Bolivar, Jose

Lopez Lizano, Maikol

Lopez-Rodriguez, Geomar

Lozada Sanchez, Wuilliam

Lozano-Camargo, Daniel

Lugo Zavala, Johendry

Lugo-Acosta, Yermain

Machado Martinez, Onaiker

Machado-Rodriguez, Jose

Manrique, Edson

Manzo Lovera, Lainerke

Marcano Silva, Luis

Marea-Medina, Ronald

Marin Zambrano, Jhonervi Josue

Marquez Pena, Jose

Marrufo Hernandez, Uriel David

Martinez Vargas, Kerbin

Martinez Vegas, Rafael

Martinez-Borrego, Tito

Martinez-Gonzalez, Yohangel

Mata Fornerino, Wilfredo Jose

Mata-Ribeiro, Yoswaldo

Mathie Zavala, Hotsman Ricardo

Medina-Martinez, Alexis

Melendez Rojas, Edwin

Mendez Boyer, Alex

Mendez Mejias, Angel

Mendez-Gomez, Luis

Mendoz Nunez, Carlos

Mendoza Ortiz, Maikol Solier

Mendoza Pina, Jean Claude

Mendoza Ramirez, Jonathan

Mogollon Herrera, Henry

Molina-Acevedo, Roger

Montero Espinoza, Ervinson

Montilla-Rivas, Jose

Mora-Balzan, Jose

Morales-Rolon, Andres

Moreno-Camacho, Cristopher

Moreno-Ramirez, Maikel

Morillo-Pina, Luis

Moron Cabrera, Yuber

Munoz Pinto, Luis

Navas Vizcaya, Ali

Navas-Diaz, Obed

Nieto Contreras, Kevin

Nunez-Falcon, Luis

Olivera Rojas, Maikel

Orta-Campos, Junior

Ortega Garcia, Felix

Otero Valestrines, Luis

Palacios-Rebolledo, Leoner

Palencia-Benavides, Brayan

Parra Urbina, Eduard

Paz-Gonzalez, Daniel

Pena Mendez, Jose Antonio

Penaloza Chirinos, Ysqueibel Yonaiquer

Perez Perez, Cristian

Perez-Llovera, Juan

Perfecto La Rosa, Moises

Perozo-Colina, Carlos

Perozo-Palencia, Andy

Petit Findlay, Andersson Steven

Petterson Torres, Christean

Pineda Lezama, Jesus

Pinto Velasquez, Cristhian

Plaza-Carmona, Jonathan

Primoschitz Gonzalez, Albert

Querales Martinez, Anderson Jose

Quintero Chacon, Edicson

Ramirez Ramirez, Jonathan Miguel

Ramos Bastidas, Jose

Ramos Ramos, Juan Jose

Reyes Barrios, Jerce Egbunik

Reyes Mota, Frengel

Reyes Ollarvides, Ronald

Reyes-Villegas, Arlinzon

Rincon Bohorquez, Omar

Rincon-Rincon, Ringo

Rios Andrade, Jesus

Rivera Gonzalez, Luis

Rivero-Coroy, Jean

Rodriguez, Edwin

Rodriguez Goyo, Alejandro

Rodriguez Lugo, Luis Gustavo

Rodriguez Parra, Alber

Rodriguez Rojas, Kenlyn

Rodriguez-Da Silva, Fernando

Rojas, Deibys

Rojas-Mendoza, Miguel

Romero Chirinos, Ildemar Jesus

Romero Rivas, Erick

Roos Ortega, Jesus

Rosal-Gelvez, Hector

Rubio-Petrola, Jose

Saavedra-Caruci, Robinson

Salazar-Cuervo, Pedro Luis

Sanchez Bigott, Yorbis

Sanchez Paredes, Idenis

Sanchez-Arteaga, Fernando

Sanchez-Bermudez, Marco

Santiago Ascanio, Ronald

Sarabia Gonzalez, Anyelo

Semeco Revilla, Darwin Xavier

Sierra Cano, Anyelo

Silva Casares, Jason Alfredo

Silva Freites, Carlos Julio

Silva-Ramirez, Aaron

Soto Manzana, Omar

Suarez-Fuentes, Joen

Suarez-Nunez, Luis

Suarez-Salas, Nery

Suarez-Trejo, Arturo

Tapia Colina, Jesus

Teran Aguilar, Carlos

Testa Leon, Orlando Jesus

Toro Noguera, Yonel

Torrealba Torrealba, Yonathan

Torres Archila, Amber

Torres Herrera, Euder Jose

Torres-Polanco, Carlos

Tortosa Guedez, Jorge

Tovar-Marcano, Cesar

Travieso Gonzalez, Kleiver

Troconis Gonzalez, Yhon Deivis

Uzcategui Vielma, Carlos

Vaamondes Barrios, Miguel

Vargas Lugo, Henry

Vazquez Morillo, Nicola

Vega Sandia, Wilmer

Vera Villamizar, Wladimir

Villa-Montano, Enson

Villafranca Rincones, Carlos Eduardo

Villegas-Frites, Ilels

Yamarte-Fernandez, Mervin

Yanez-Arangure, Luis

Zabaleta-Morillo, Keiber

Zambrano Perez, Julio

Zambrano Torrealba, Gabriel

Zarraga Rosales, Jorge

These are people we MUST fight for too. They are leaving INNOCENT FAMILY AND CHILDREN BEHIND.

[my-personal-domain]

One of the harsher warriors of the waters. Once part of the most aggressive tribe, Kleiver was abandoned to poachers. After being saved from the nets, he pledged his loyalty to the King of the Oceans, Damas.

Kleiver repays the favor, keeping the King safe during the coup.

Shortly after the betrayal, Kleiver meets Lucy, one of the freed from the chains on land and while becoming curious about her savior, he falls for the redhead.

To see more mermaid work, go check out Loveangel15 on devianatart.

[weiila]

Trying to figure out how to write Mammon’s dialogue gives me ’nam flashbacks to Kleiver from Jak and Daxter.