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radioactivepeasant · 1 year

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Fic Snippets: Free Day Thursday

By way of poll, we're back to the Gremlinverse. Damas is now actively involving himself in The Haven Situation

Damas secured the cloth around his head, tightening it over his crown. Just because the Baron was dead, didn’t mean his supporters were. The council that ruled the day to day matters of the city still wanted their previous king dead, last Damas had heard. If they were to discover that not one but three members of the House of Mar lived, they'd be livid.

Securing the turban with a pin, Damas turned to pick up his scarf and froze.

The other Mar -- the one calling himself Jak -- stood in the doorway, watching him. Now that he'd been noticed, the little boy tensed up.

"Uh-"

That was all Damas managed to get out before the child bolted.

"No wait-!"

By the time he'd rounded the corner, Jak was nowhere to be seen. With no one there to witness, Damas didn’t mind letting his shoulders fall. Mar remembered him, Mar was safe and happy and alive. That was more than he could have hoped for already. But the way this second child flinched away from touch and wouldn't trust more than three people-

It ate away at him. It burrowed into Damas’s heart like a thorn and jabbed deeper with every mistrustful look Jak cast at the world around him.

Sig said this boy had been older before. Something to do with a Precursor -- what a week it had been if that wasn't the most unbelievable part of the sentence -- trying to undo some horrible thing Praxis had done to him. Something about a perversion of time and space: doubling a child and forcing him to grow up unnaturally quickly to become a soldier. Or, that was the gist of what Sig had picked up. It did explain a lot of the boy’s reactions. But to know that someone had done this evil thing to Mar -- even if it was not the same Mar he had delivered and cradled from birth -- filled Damas with a rage that threatened to undo all his efforts to present a non-threatening front.

Praxis was dead, and that was as great an injustice as what had befallen his son. Or sons, rather.

Yet the elder boy, the one Sig was so fond of, he said that he and Jak had been there to watch to life flicker out of Praxis's eyes. They'd stood there dispassionately, listened to his death rattle, and then moved on to dismantle his ultimate weapon, irreverently tossing pieces of it onto his corpse. There was a kind of vindication in that. It still stung that Damas could not have avenged his children himself, but at least Jak had been able to see his enemy brought low.

The sound of a muffled argument down the stairs drew Damas’s attention. He crept down the stairs, deftly avoiding the spots the children had already demonstrated to be creaky. As he drew closer to the back of the bar, Damas identified one of the irate voices as Jak’s.

"-suddenly I've outlived my usefulness, is that it?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth, Jak!"

That one sounded familiar. And irritating.

"You know better than anyone that destiny comes for us whether we're ready or not. But in your...current state...it is better for you to prepare to face that destiny. Leave the ridiculous dangers for when you get some power back."

Damas peered around the edge of the doorway and glimpsed Jak baring his teeth and a short, mossy green man with a hefty piece of wood in his hair.

"There it is. It's always about power, isn't it? Gotta make me a super-soldier again so you don't have to do your own work. I knew you hadn't just spontaneously grown a conscience," Jak said bitterly.

"That's the dark eco talking," the tree stump man said condescendingly. "I told you, you need to learn control, and discipline! But no, no one ever listens to old Samos. He's only-"

Jak interrupted him, scurrying to cut off his approach. "You come near the kid and I'll show you just how "controlled" the eco is. The Precursors erased all the experiments -- too bad for you -- and most of my impulse control."

He balled up his fists and took a ready stance.

"Hand to the Oracles, I will channel a fireball straight into your unmentionables if you say a word to Mar or Daxter."

Damas had heard enough. He stepped down out of the wide stairwell with a noticeable thump and squared his shoulders. As expected, both the two arguers and the girl at the bar flinched or twitched at his sudden appearance.

"Is there a problem here?" Damas asked calmly.

He looked around the mostly empty pub and frowned.

"Where's the gangly boy?"

"He left me behind!" Jak snapped, then retreated into a shadowed booth. To sulk, apparently.

The girl cringed. "There's...Commander Torn sent Daxter out to the North Agriculture sector to deal with some metalheads trying to nest down there. Jak was all ready to go, but they kept giving him the run around."

She aimed a skeptical frown at the little green man. "Samos was pretty insistent that Jak stay and train his channeling, but I'm pretty sure Jak is already an expert. He got shorter, not less skilled."

Damas rubbed his chin. "And Jak and Daxter...they are not often apart, are they?"

Samos made a rude noise. "That little weasel's been riding Jak’s coattails since they were sprouts. He's the sidekick."

"He's my brother!" Jak snarled, coming partway out of the booth.

"And he's a better man than you'll ever be!"

The girl tensed and leaned clenched fists on the bartop. "Mr. Hagai, I've just about had enough of your attitude. What is your deal, dude? I swear, you're physically incapable of seeing Daxter without becoming verbally abusive."

Samos rolled his eyes. How airheaded did this girl have to be to have been taken in by Daxter's wild stories? It didn't bode well for the protection and guidance of Jak's younger self while they scrambled to put the Time Map back together.

"When you're older, and maybe wiser, you'll understand why I have to be tough on them. I don't expect a bunch of kids to know what's best for them."

"Wow." The girl curled her lip at the sage. "Yikes."

"Don't bother with him, Tess," Jak grumbled from the booth. "Getting Samos to say something nice is like talking to a rock."

Damas filed the name away in his head and realized he'd gotten her mixed up with the other blonde that hung around the bar.

Tess was the teenager with the creative weapons, Jinx was the grown man. Not the other way around.

Tess turned towards the corner where Jak had sequestered himself. "Has he ever apologized for any of that?"

"Uh, no. That would require convincing him that he's wrong."

"Mm. That's about what I figured." Tess shook her head and leveled a dirty look at Samos. "Jak, lemme tell you something my mama told me when I was little: never trust an adult who refuses to apologize to a child."

"Oh for taproots' sakes. Daxter isn't a child!" Samos argued.

"He's seventeen!" Tess answered sharply, "And you guys sent him out there without his backup!"

Damas held up his hands as if holding both of them back. "Alright. I've heard enough. Hagai: leave."

Samos turned to squint up at him. "And you are...who, exactly?"

Damas raised an eyebrow in silence and waited for the crabby little man to connect the dots. He turned a gratifying shade of gray when the realization hit him, but Damas wasn't in the mood to answer any questions. He stepped around the bar and crossed the room in two great strides. Taking hold of the sputtering sage's arm, he continued on to the door. As it opened, he swung back his arm and in one fluid motion he flung Samos out onto the street.

"Out," he said firmly.

"I-! You-! I've- why I've never been so insulted!" Samos gasped.

"How lucky for you to have a new experience, then," Damas answered dryly. Then his face hardened.

"I don't know who you think you are, but your meddling is not welcome in my family. And you can tell that Guard commander and the Praxis girl the same thing."

He didn't wait for an answer.

Damas stepped back and keyed the door shut with a smack against the palm pad. Rotting sage. Hagai's grandfather hadn't been nearly so insufferable! Samos seemed to have the idea that he was the main character of some epic tale, somehow.

"Ugh. Thanks for that," sighed Tess. "Usually the old stump's daughter keeps him in line, but she's been busy putting together the fundraiser Reconstruction Race in Main Town. Not easy when you're no longer tall enough to reach your tool bench."

The girl massaged her temples. "Hand to the Oracles, I'm this close to making a rule that Samos can't be in here without a chaperone."

Damas took a seat at the bar and, on a whim, passed a small metalbug gem to her. She took it, smiled softly at the way it reflected the light, and slipped it into a drawer.

"Right, back to business. What can I get ya?"

"Not for me," Damas waved a hand. "Compensation for having to deal with that sort of person. And..."

He looked away.

"And as thanks. For having their backs."

He didn't specify who "they" were, but he didn't have to.

Tess’s face fell a little, and she propped her chin up on her hands. "This whole situation is making everyone act like they've lost their minds," she confessed. "Jak and I have run three different Council Guards out of here at gunpoint already, and I'm pretty sure my apartment is under surveillance."

"Why is there a Council at all? Aren't those Praxis supporters?"

Damas blinked, and suppressed a start upon realizing that Jak had crept out of the booth and was standing at the edge of the bar, scowling. He was only a few feet from Damas now, and Damas kept still. No point startling the boy back into the shadows again.

"Well, according to Torn, we can't just imprison the old regime and start over, or we're the same as Praxis," Tess answered. "Still, you'd think he'd do something to keep you and Mar out of the middle of the power struggles."

Jak scoffed. "You'd think. But this is the guy who sold Mar out when the Baron threatened Ashelin."

Tess went very still, just as Damas stiffened. A coldness flooded the girl's face, and she turned slowly to look at Jak.

"Torn did what?"

Jak gripped the counter edge tightly. "And Samos and Kor. Remember when Dax and me busted you guys out of prison? It was Torn’s fault."

For a long time, Tess didn't say anything. She kept an impressive rein on her facial expression, but Damas could see a wealth of pain in the girl's eyes. Anger, shock, horror and betrayal- all too familiar to the former king of Haven. Then she slumped and closed her eyes.

"After the kinds of things I've seen as a spy, I don't know why I'm still shocked," she said in a shaking voice. Wiping her eyes quickly, she cleared her throat. "Gods, maybe Sig was right, Jak. We should've just left when he offered us the out."

Jak slipped around the bar to lean against her in an awkward attempt at comfort. "We couldn't. We didn't have Mar back yet. Daxter says it's their fault, not ours."

"Yeah." Tess dropped an arm around Jak’s shoulder. "I guess."

"If Dax wasn't attached to this place, I'd say we should just go," Jak suggested. "Grab Mar, grab Chopper, and just go."

With a faint smile, Tess nudged him. "Maybe we can convince him to open a sister location somewhere that wasn't just overrun by metalheads. You know he only likes this building because we "inherited" all of Krew's booze and didn't have to actually buy the supplies."

Up to now, Jak had been giving Sig excuses for staying in the city -- some because he didn't trust Damas yet, others for Daxter's sake. This was the first indication he'd given in Damas’s presence that he wanted to leave Haven. If ever there was a chance to convince the boy to go to Spargus, this was it.

Damas stood and stretched his spine with a grunt.

"Alright then."

"Alright then?" Jak echoed, squinting at him warily.

The king shook out his arms. "Keep an eye on your little brother, will you? I shouldn't be gone more than two hours."

Jak wrinkled his nose and looked vaguely concerned. "Where are you going?"

"To retrieve Daxter," Damas replied. "If you truly wish to leave Haven, the middle of a regime change is a good time to do so. Especially if they're already trying to put you under surveillance."

Abruptly, the guarded look Jak had been wearing since his arrival faded. He looked unsure, suddenly.

"You're...gonna help him?"

Damas flashed a brief smile. "Considering he's been keeping up with you all these years, I'm sure he has the situation in hand. But another blade in the fight never hurts."

"Oh," said Jak quietly. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then closed it again. He nodded sharply, and took a breath.

"Uh...watch your back out there."

"I will, son." Damas returned the nod. "I suggest locking up until I come back, if the place really is being watched. Don't let anyone in."

"Good plan." Tess let go of Jak and fished a keycard out from under the bar. "I'll lock up and we'll post watch in the stairwell. Jak, you go get Pow-Pow out of my gun safe."

"I don't need the smaller gun!" Jak protested.

"It's for me, doofus!" Tess retorted, "You think I'm letting you or Mar put your grubby hands on my custom baby?"

"Oh. Nevermind." Sheepishly, Jak took the keycard and darted up the stairs.

Tess looked back at Damas. "You're really going to get all of us out?" She folded her arms. "Or just the boys?"

"Sig might shoot me if I leave you behind," Damas joked dryly. "If he offered you a way out, it means he's sponsoring you for citizenship."

Growing serious again, he added, "Call me if anyone tries to get in."

"I'd worry more about Jak getting out."

"Well," Damas sighed, "at least that hasn't changed since he was little.