Courier 6 and Ratchet and Jak & Daxter
Level 6 - (16/60) EXP (+3),
Level 6 - (5/60) (+3),
Level 3 - (28/30) (+3)
Location: Ancestral Farmstead
Dead Zone - Redgraccoon Police Department
Word Count:3563
Courier Stress: 15
The Courier lucked out. Even if the brachydios wasn’t concerned with fighting off his companions, the blow he had struck to the damn thing’s head was simply too disorienting for the monster to provide a legitimate follow up. Though his landing was clumsy, the Ghost of the Mojave was easily back up on his feet and out of the way of the dinosaur like monster. That wasn’t to say there weren’t other threats running around, though. The farmhands with their crude farming implements-turned-weapons were still converging, and he was down one striker (Bastion was probably going to hate him before all this was over).
A group of the farmhands had surrounded the Courier, some carrying more deadly weapons than the blunt shovel he already got hit with, and he didn’t want to measure the strength of his sub-dermal armor against the piercing power of a pitchfork. None of his weapons could provide the necessary widespread attack needed to get rid of these things either, which meant he needed a little bit of help.
”Yer up, Ivories!” he called out, tossing the pokeball at his hip. The proud, stalwart donphan materialized from thin air, blocking the path between the corrupted farmhands and the Courier.
”Do that thing where you shake up the ground!” he ordered.
“Don! Phan! Donphan!” The strange elephant-armadillo creature used Bulldoze, stomping the ground with massive strength and sending a rippling shockwave directly toward the creatures. The very earth itself upended around them, burying the farmhands alive in rock and dirt. Whether they survived or not was irrelevant: they couldn’t dig their way out, and the exploding crystals their corpses turned into weren’t going to affect the surface.
”Heh. Good job, Ivories.” The Courier gave a thumbs up and the proud donphan snorted happily. Just then the atmosphere around them changed back. Looking up, he noticed that the Thing from the Stars had been killed, but another threat was emerging: scarecrows.
The Courier whistled, signalling for Drumstick to come running, which the loyal chocobo did without hesitation. He hopped up on her and turned back to his donphan.
”I’m guessin’ all these hombres turn into those explodin’ crystals, so I need you ta bury’em all just like those last hombres!”“Donphan!” Ivories replied with a nod, showing he understood. The Courier spurred Drumstick on and Ivories curled up into a Rollout, both taking off. The Courier pulled out the Equalizer, the pickaxe he had picked up early on back at the robot battle arena, and rode through the farmhands and scarecrows, swinging the weapon at their heads in a drive-by attack. They went down fairly easily with this method, but some didn’t outright die or even get knocked over. Ivories was quick to slam the stragglers with his Rollout, the Bulldoze them all into the dirt safely. Meanwhile others who had more experience or were heavier hitters in general kept up against the brachydios. The Courier was running low on ammo with everything but his shotgun at this point, so mopping up the little guys atop his feathered steed suited his current situation better anyway.
Ratchet lit up at the sight of Jak’s morph gun transforming into a new form based on the spirit that was smashed into it. It looked like some sort of speargun! Ah man, Jak had all the luck, having a transforming weapon that could make use of the spirits, while Ratchet still had to scrounge together whatever weapons he could on the fly. A whole arsenal in one weapon that was the morph gun. The lombax couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, but there was work to be done, so to take his mind off of it he announced his intentions aloud.
”I’ll head to the safety deposit room then, see if I can scrounge up anything useful to fortify the police station while we figure out this ghost business.”Meanwhile Jak and Daxter
celebrated the new weapon with a dance together before the minor festivity was interrupted by Daxter noticing something.
”Ah heck, this thing uses yellow eco!” he exclaimed.
”And we’re almost out, Jak!”Jak snorted.
”No worries, Dax. I’m sure we’ll find some soon. Or I’ll start channeling eco again, whichever comes first. We’ll just have to postpone this gun mode for a while. Now let’s head to the collection room, see what we can find in there.”
Just about every department had a name for where its officers kept evidence, contraband, and confiscated items, and what had once been the Raccoon City Police Department called its the Collection Room. It featured several rows of plain, gray metal shelves freestanding end-to-end in the otherwise empty space, forming three aisles. The rightmost, closest to the door, contained the most organization and protocol. Everything on it was neatly squared away, with a slip-in label describing what it was, when it came, and a serial number with much more significance to an officer than Jak and Daxter. The other two shelf rolls harbored miscellaneous items, personal effects and once-suspicious things no longer useful. Overall there wasn’t that much of it, leaving plenty of dull metal shelfspace unoccupied.
”What a DUMP!” Daxter exclaimed, gesticulating in an exaggerated manner. His movements threatened to set off his new shockwave powers and topple the shelves by accident.
”This is a collection room?” Jak commented, looking around rather unimpressed.
”Where are the breakable crates? The pick-ups? Eco deposits? Power cells? Heck, there aren’t even any orbs floating around here!” Daxter hopped up onto one of the shelves and started glancing at papers and tossing them aside haphazardly while Jak calmly looked over some of the miscellaneous objects, hoping to find something even remotely useful. Maybe there was something related to that ghost’s death, or a small piece to the larger puzzle?
They found a lot of irrelevant junk. Whatever the deal with Manapaiboon and the ghost, the items collected here must have been exclusive to the police department before it was transported to the World of Light. They did, however, find something incongruous with the rest of the room’s stuff. All of it, from pocket contents like lighters and pens to coats, watches, and shoes left over following an in-house arrest, was modern. Not modern by the standards of any denizens of a technological future, but reasonably modern. Except one thing. On the bottom shelf of the far side of the middle row sat a handwoven fabric bag, decorated with long strings of beads and charms attached to its upper rim. Around it were a few candles, and they were lit.
”Hey, what’s this?” Jak asked aloud, getting Dax’s attention who paused his random throwing of papers to take a look.
”Woah, that’s some spooky hooky dooky mumbo jumbo if I ever saw one it!”Jak nodded in agreement, then slowly reached his hand out to take the bag.
”Wait!” Daxter interrupted.
”What?” Jak asked, reeling back and pulling out his scatter gun, looking around the room for some invisible threat.
”Don’t touch it! You may be a special chosen one in our world and I got lucky with the dark eco, but how much y’wanna bet that luck doesn’t carry over to this freaky deaky place?”Jak shook his head in slight exasperation and snagged the bag. Daxter yelped and attempted to stop Jak from grabbing it but in doing so set off a shockwave that toppled the shelf he was standing on, forcing him to fall to the floor. As he got back on his feet, the shelf itself smacked him on the head. Needless to say, he wasn’t successful in stopping Jak.
Daxter’s comedic reaction turned out to be a comedic overreaction. Touching the unusual bag did not summon any ghoulies, nor inflict any curses, nor drop any anvils. Instead, it behaved exactly like someone might expect a bag to, including opening right up when Jak loosened the drawstrings. Inside was a colorful tablecloth, neatly folded, a couple black sticks with a distinctive texture on their matching, thicker red ends, and two well-handled papers with torn edges, black with white text.
Cursed Nails Jinx, the big text at the top of one read.
Jak thumbed through the contents of the bag for a moment before tossing the bag toward Daxter, saying,
”See Dax? Nothing to worry about.” He blew out the candles, not wanting to keep a fire hazard around.
Daxter jumped up to snatch the bag from the air, poking his head into the opening, looking like a scarecrow with his new wooden body.
”What? Oh come on, but with the candles in a circle and everything, how could it not have been something spooky?” The ottsel got the bag stuck on his head, snagged on a stray twig. As he wrestled with it, Jak looked at the papers in more detail.
The Cursed Nails Jinx: Do you have hatred towards someone,enough to want them dead? Then you are at the right place! The cursed nails jinx, is a spell that can make your enemy suffer from nails piercing through their stomach. The result can be deadly! This jinx has existed and been passed on for many generations and can still be found today on rare occasions.
Instruction:
You’ll need something from your target such as a nail or some hair. Next, put the minside the doll made from graveyard clay. Tie the doll with the thread used for shrouding corpses, not the holy thread used for other occasions and ceremonies. Pierce the nails (which were used to seal the coffins of those who died unnaturally) right through the doll. Once it’s done, your target will experience an agonizing pain as their stomach is filled with cursed nails. Only skillful casters can perform this, it cannot be achieved by novices.”What… is this?” Jak asked incredulously. He tilted his head to the side as if he were reading a map upside down.
”I don’t think whoever wrote this speaks English.”Nearby, Daxter finally tugged the bag off his head, giving it a nice long tear in the process, completely ruining it for future use. Shaking his head, he tossed the bag aside and snagged the papers from Jak.
”Wooo, this is some weeeeird juju! Sounds like something Seem would say!””Yeah, well,” Jak looked over the sticks and the tablecloth,
”Doesn’t look like this is all that relevant to what’s going on? Huh. I wonder what this cloth and these sticks have to do with that spell?””Soooo Jak? You wanna try it out on Pecker?” Daxter wiggled his eyebrows, while Jak just glared at him.
”Whaaat? I’m just joking! …. Mostly.””Well, this room was a total bust,” Jak grumbled, kicking a nearby shelf. The two left the room, hoping that maybe what they had found might possibly be noteworthy to one of the more mystical members of their group.
Sleek, stark, coldly discouraging. The safety deposit room was a ring of wall-to-wall secure boxes, like high-tech filing cabinets, around an inner wall. A single stroll around the loop would take only a matter of moments and take the stroller past every box in the place, although not much else. As might be expected of what amounted to an important and personalized storage area, every door was secure, and what wasn’t secure was empty with the door wide open. Nothing about the room, meant to be useless to those not conducting proper business, was remotely inviting. Inside was one person, fairly normal-looking, a scrappy-looking
survivor in a hood. He was fiddling with the lock on a box low to the ground, clearly consternated.
Ratchet glanced around the room, noticing a number of things under lock and key. Undoubtedly
something in here would be helpful, but how to get to it all? He could just smash in with his wrench, or have Clank hack the keypads. That’s when he noticed a scruffy looking human working hard to get into one of the safes.
”What’re you trying to get at in there?” Ratchet asked.
”If it’ll make this situation easier for us all, I can definitely help.”The human looked up, his movement unhurried. Ratchet had spoken out of the blue, and caught him in what some might consider a compromising position, but the guy seemed at ease. “Sure,” he said. “Fiddly little thing won’t cooperate. Ain’t much of a tech guy, but that kid Fox wanted me to give it a try this morning. Just trying to be nice, I know. But I left a charm in there, and now that I need it back, damn thing doesn’t remember me.” Standing up, he took a step back and waved an arm at it, helplessly. It was an invitation for Ratchet to give it a try.
”No problem, just sit back and watch the master at work. Ahem.” Ratchet cleared his throat and lifted up his wrench. After giving it a couple practice swings he looked to be about to give it a give thwack when suddenly he stopped mid-motion.
”Go for it, Clank.”The small robot appeared suddenly with his signature laugh. “Hmhmhmhmhmhm. Glad to hear that I’m the master, Ratchet.” Without another word Clank extended his arm out and began interfacing with the cabinet safe, accessing the absolutely (by his standards) archaic and ancient computer software. Unless something unexpected were to happen, it’d unlock in a matter of miliseconds.
Surprised by and interested in the little robot, the stranger watched him work. He sprung the lock with remarkable speed. The man was taken aback by the suddenness and unceremoniousness of his newfound companions’ success. “Well...that works.” A difficult task trivialized. Chuckling, he scooped something small out of the deposit box, stowing it before the others could really take a look at it. “Thanks, fellas. The name’s Jones.” He offered a hand to shake.
Ratchet reached out to accept the handshake only for Clank to extend his robotic arm and snipe the opportunity. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jones. You may call me Clank. My partner is Ratchet.”
Another easy snicker. The guy wasn’t young, but he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. The laugh lines by his eyes said as much.
Ratchet couldn’t help but chuckle. He took Jones’ hand soon as Clank let go and shook it himself.
”What my partner said. Heh. We’ll get to work opening up all these lockers to see if there’s anything useful. Mind if I ask what was so important for you to grab?”“Uh…” Shrugging, Jones reached into a pocket and pulled it out. He held a circular
disk like a seal or a badge, emblazoned with a softly glowing symbol. “Obscuris. Not too useful right now, but I came into some artifacts thanks to our guests today.”
Jones continued. “S’also something...a little precious to me. Kinda like how these boxes have things precious to other folks.” He pocketed the disk again and crossed his arms. “These ain’t storage lockers, or treasure chests to be looted. ‘Safety deposit boxes’, the most secure place people from the station’s world got. People put stuff in ‘em they
need to keep safe. Stuff that helps ‘em remember, or gives ‘em hope.” He went silent to let the significance of that sink in, leaving a choice hanging in the air. Not a binary, but a choice of an array of possiblities. Having taking no action himself, he left it for Ratchet and Clank to make.
”Oh yeah, we’ve got those too,” Ratchet said with a shrug.
“In concept certainly,” Clank chimed in, “though ours tend to be constructed of Gadgetech brand omnisteel with high powered magne-lock seals.”
”And sometimes Mr. Zirkon.”“Yes,” Clank added. “Sometimes they come with a Mr. Zirkon.”
”So I guess the question becomes, are the people who put things in these deposit boxes still around to need them?” Ratchet put his hands up to prompt Jones. After all, the survivor had been here longer, and would know better who was still able to make use of these items.
Jones shrugged again. “You’d have a lot of hunting to do. There’s no record of whose stuff is where.” These guys still saw the boxes’ contents as loot to be taken, so long as its owner wasn’t around. No respect for the dead, and the things they treasured. “Situation out there really so bad we gotta raid the private stuff for supplies?”
”Well, things are pretty dire out there…” Ratchet said.
”Logically speaking, it only makes sense to save who we can.”“If I may interject, Ratchet,” Clank started. “If these items are personal in nature, I believe it would be a better solution to return the objects of the deceased to their proper resting places, rather than make use of them ourselves.”
”Well yeah, but-“ Ratchet stopped in his tracks. The allure of loot was enticing. Gadgets and guns were his thing. Like, his whole schtick. And there were dozens of people that needed saving
right now. He was a hero, dammit! A Galactic Ranger! Surely it was justifiable, right?
”Naw, you’re right, little buddy. Almost got ahead of myself there. I’m glad I’ve got a friend like you to always keep me straight.” He shook his head, then turned to speak to Jones again.
”Sorry about that little spat, but it’s decided. We’ll keep things where they’re at unless someone asks for one. Once we’re all cleared out, Clank and I will return any lost items where they belong.”Jones had watched the conversation in silence. When Ratchet came out with his final decision, he nodded firmly. “Sounds like a plan.” Trusting the two to follow through with their choice, he started to leave. When he passed by the Lombax, Jones clapped him on the shoulder, a brief but warm touch. Then he made to continue on, out of the room and back toward the main hall.
Before Jones vanished behind the door, Ratchet spoke up again.
”I’m glad you were here to let us know what’s up with this stuff.” He sighed.
”This definitely isn’t what I expected the apocalypse to look like. How about you?”This time, he didn’t receive a chuckle. It was a full-on belly laugh, brief, but wholehearted. “Boy,” Jones said after a moment, shaking his head. “Don’t get me started.”
Ratchet laughed as Jones left, then turned back to the deposit boxes.
”Well, let’s get a good look at this stuff, take an inventory so we know what still needs to be returned once this whole thing is over.”“I shall keep a detailed record in my memory banks,” Clank agreed. Together, they looked over everything still locked up.
Some sort of injector device, a pair of sunglasses, an empty vial labeled “DEVIL Vaccine,” a chromium medal emblazoned with a green sprout and “GARDEN” in gold, a pulsing spiky crystal of blood about the size of a palm, a purple heart military medal, a
broken high tech baton,
the soul of an intrepid hero, a chipped guitar pick, a
moonstone, five orbs, a
dud grenade, a
mini baseball bat, a spent bullet casing, a
scribbled page, an
inert device, and a
toy soldier doll. Once they had taken stock of all the items, Clank vanished back into Ratchet, who left the room to head back to the main hall.
Rothurage
Old Amsterdam
Mixtape Ghost N
Izurich
