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radioactivepeasant · 5 months

Text

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

Adopted Dadmas: Dadmas versus Haven

The red light was blinking on Jak’s talk-box again. Damas was no fool, he knew that meant someone was spying through the floating comm -- or attempting to. Doubtless, the eavesdropper thought they were being very subtle, keeping silent whenever adults were present. As if they believed Jak would keep their presence a secret. As if they believed he would never tell.

Damas tore a circle of flatbread into pieces and used them to scoop a mixture of cooked peppers onto his plate. He pretended not to notice the talk-box hovering next to Jak’s elbow in a terrible attempt at stealth, instead choosing to engage Daxter in a conversation. He was determined to get the kid apprenticed to the head of the merchant guild one way or another. Daxter had a head for business and trade that Jak, simply put, did not. He nodded along when his friend talked, but privately Damas thought it would do Daxter good to be around adults who could encourage his interests.

Periodically, Jak cast swift glances at his talk-box during the meal. He seemed like he was expecting someone to speak at any moment -- or more like he was expecting orders of some kind. His shoulders were tense, and he was shoveling down food much too quickly, like he thought he wasn't going to have time to finish it.

"Slow down, young one. The shrimp isn't going anywhere, and neither are you," Damas admonished.

Jak didn't slow down much, but he did start chewing a little more thoroughly. Small victories. Still, he looked tired, and on-edge. Had Ashelin or the sage been badgering him again when no one was around?

The initial idea had been to lay a trap. To feign ignorance and bait the spy into speaking aloud, thus forcing Unpleasant Diplomatic Discussions with Haven's motley assortment of would-be leaders. But just now, Damas decided, the health and wellbeing of his son took precedence over strategy. And he still had the element of surprise, anyway.

"Talk-boxes off at the table, Jak," he announced, gesturing directly to the lens watching them, "This is a meal, not a media interview."

The boy flinched and looked guilty. He had no reason to; he'd been open with Damas about the demands for labor since he first returned from Haven. But then, he'd been groomed from such a young age to believe that bad things happened because he didn't work hard enough for his "friends". Perhaps he still feared retaliation for establishing healthy boundaries? Better to confront the issue head-on then, Damas decided.

"If your uninvited watcher has an emergency, they are free to petition me directly," he said, leveling a stern glare at the talk-box. "On their own time, not yours. Come on, switch it off."

Someone made a muffled sound, barely picked up by the talk-box's speaker. It seemed they were not expecting to be so casually acknowledged.

"Jak-!" the watcher tried to protest, but Jak reached for the power button.

"Right. Sorry, Pa."

Once the light had faded from the little camera, Damas nodded, satisfied. He picked up a shallow bowl with tomango in it and held it out to Jak.

"Here. You need the vitamins."

Begrudgingly, Jak took two slices, then a third when Daxter gave him The Look across the table.

The ottsel cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Pal, you gotta get better at telling those people no. They can't hurtcha!"

Jak hunched over his plate, frowning.

"I know," he muttered sullenly. "I- I do know that, okay? They just don't listen!"

Daxter sighed and his ears drooped. "Yeah...I know. Old Greenstuff only hears what he wants to hear. Always has."

With a frustrated groan, Jak rubbed his eyes. "After everything he's done, I shouldn't be having trouble cutting Samos off. Why do I keep going back?!"

"He's familiar," Daxter admitted, and not without a touch of loathing. "He was all we knew for like, our whole lives. I hate him -- I'll always hate him -- but I get being afraid to lose that last connection to Sandover."

"....yeah." Jak winced. "I um...I think you're right. It's just. It's hard."

"I know, pal."

"And he knows I have two artifacts that go with those weird pillars in the forest!" Jak continued, "What do I do when he starts asking why I haven't brought them?"

"You end the call," Damas interrupted firmly, "or you give the line to an older Wastelander. Collecting those relics serves the interests of our people, and our people will be working in teams to locate them."

Perhaps this was Jak’s fight as much as anyone else's -- this Daystar and its coming threat -- but Damas was reluctant to involve him. Wasn't losing one son bad enough? He'd never survive losing a second one!

Besides, even someone as talented at sneaking into hidden places as Jak couldn't infiltrate places locked by the Seal of Mar. Whatever the Grand Council of Haven wanted with the catacombs, it was a matter for Damas to deal with, not the boys.

Jak picked at his tomango slices almost glumly. Whether it was his own struggles with setting boundaries that bothered him, or Damas’s advice for dealing with future calls, no one knew. But Daxter and Damas both knew that Jak wouldn't keep it bottled up for long. Sure enough, after a couple minutes of mangling his food without eating it, Jak finally looked up.

"You didn't tell me you were sending other people to look for the relics I told you about."

It was almost a question and almost a complaint.

"No, I didn't," Damas acknowledged, and sipped his tea. "The topic hadn't come up between us yet. Is there something about it that concerns you?"

Jak had difficulty putting his thoughts into words. He started and stopped three times before muttering, "It's dangerous. What if someone gets hurt and I'm not there?"

"What if someone doesn't get hurt and you're not there?" Damas countered. He leaned an elbow on the table and gestured to himself almost self-deprecatingly. "Age does not grace the Spargan who is careless, nor are many years added to the foolish. Do not worry so much about people who were hunting metalheads for sport before you were even born, son."

"Admittedly," said Daxter, "We're still getting used to the concepts of adults who can actually fight their own battles. Am I complaining? Only when they decide it's "Take Your Ottsel To Work Day". But even I still go into jobs expecting to have to save everyone's butts at some point."

"Justified with the monks." Jak pointed a piece of tomango at his best friend.

"Yeah, justified with Mime Club."

Damas threaded his fingers together under his chin and watched the boys a moment.

"How about this," he offered, "If an artifact is located but not yet retrieved, I will give you the option of participating in the mission. Or, you can wait until everything has been gathered, and we will go to the pillars together."

For a moment, Jak brightened. Then he looked pensive again. "What if there's trouble? I mean. I was never really- I never claimed Haven, but they act like I belonged to them. What if me bringing another nation into their forest makes trouble for Spargus?"

"Hmph. Perhaps it is better to settle this now, rather than engage in hypotheticals."

Damas held out one hand.

"Give me your talk-box."

Jak narrowed his eyes. "What are you going to do?"

"Not your concern."

"Papá...." somehow Jak managed to sound both suspicious and scolding.

Damas remained unmoved. "Hand it over, boy."

Reluctantly, Jak did so. He cringed when the device powered on, and Keira's voice poured out.

"Jak? Are you okay? Daddy came in fussing about someone interfering with- you're not Jak! Where's my friend?!"

By the mortified expression on his son's face, Damas guessed this was the sage's daughter. The childhood friend Jak still sort of had a crush on.

"Tell your father to stop harassing my son," Damas said shortly. "Especially during hours set aside for family meals. Was he raised in a barn? In fact, ask him that for me."

"Pa, no!" Jak hissed, making a futile grab for the talk-box.

"Your son?! Who are you? Who- hey, Daddy, c'mere. You know this guy? He says he's Jak’s dad!" Keira became muffled for a moment, stepping away from her own device to drag her father over. "Why's this guy think you're harassing Jak? We've only called him twice since he left. Right?"

"Insisting he keeps his comm on at all times so that you can all monitor every moment of his day is not an acceptable use of Federation communication lines," Damas cut in. "I shouldn't have to tell you that spying on the nation of Spargus in such a way could be taken as an act of war."

"This-! This is bigger than Haven or the Wastelands!" Samos sounded flustered- even a bit nervous. "Surely you understand the claim destiny has upon Ja-"

Damas made a dismissive sound in his throat, cutting the sage off. "Pah. Destiny. I should think the recent Praxis regime and my own continued existence would be enough to call concepts such as destiny into question. As it stands, my claim on Jak supersedes "destiny" -- or more accurately, you."

"The fate of the planet hangs in the balance!" Samos cried, though somewhat subdued compared to his usual confidence. "Can't you see that?! Don't be so bullheaded, Jak is needed-"

Jak recognized the glint in the king’s eyes as mischief. Daxter looked a little too eager to see where this was going. Jak resisted the urge to cover his face in embarrassment. Why and oh why did Keira have to be the one to answer the line?!

"Oh? Are you planning to challenge me for custody of my son?" Damas bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile. "Please, by all means! The Arena is ready whenever you are."

"Pa!" Jak gripped the sides of his head and stared at the man. "Not in front of Keira!"

"Look, old man-" Damas ignored Daxter's delighted cackle. "This planet will survive through united efforts, not by sitting back and hoping one boy alone will get the job done. Now, if Haven wishes to negotiate a temporary alliance to get this done sooner, there is no one stopping them from requesting a meeting with the Wasteland Federation. In the meantime, the Federation intends to continue preventing the apocalypse with or without your participation."

"You are?" Keira cut in over her father again, sounding genuinely curious. "You mean there's more people who can get into ruins?"

Jak got up and moved to the head of the table. Damas moved the talk-box out of his reach preemptively, but Jak made no move to grab it.

"That's their whole thing, turns out. You know Krew? Yeah, everything he sold you, he bought from Wastelanders. Even the defunct power cells."

The slightly warped image of Keira on the screen flickered as she leaned closer.

"Seriously?! I could've cut out the middleman and just worked with them all this time?! Ughhhhh. Hindsight is 20/20 I guess. You want to show them my research from the palace library?"

Behind her, Samos jumped. "The what?! Keira, the library was destroyed with the rest of the palace!"

"The building collapsed, sure," Keira retorted, "But the data cores are still mostly intact in there. If you don’t mind crawling through some tight places and bringing lots of Scout Flies, it's a cinch to get the files for Vin."

Samos looked apoplectic. "Keira! That's far too dangerous for you!"

His daughter rolled her eyes. "What? Jak and Daxter can do it but I can't? Don't you trust me?"

Damas stifled a chuckle and elbowed Jak. "I like this one," he whispered. "Invite her to Spargus sometime."

Jak wished the floor would swallow him.

#jak and daxter #fic prompts #writing prompts #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #free day thursday #adopted dadmas au #keira hagai #samos hagai #samos gets all the side-eye in this house #everytime i wonder if I'm bashing the character needlessly i watch the games and go 'o he's actually Worse'#haven is like 'only the kid we tried to kill via sunstroke can save us!'#and Damas is like 'literally every wastelander does the same thing jak does. some of us even channel.'#giving Keira back the characterization that was denied her in Jak 3 #Keira is busy doing Lara Croft stuff when Samos's back is turned #Jak is playing his own game and Keira is playing Uncharted 🤣

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watcher-with-burned-wings · 7 months

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If you love me, let me go.

Once there was a nuclear war that decimated much of the planet. Only the rich who escaped into protected cities lived, with very few lucky ones on the outside, surviving the bombs. Those who survived in the city set up a government and established order. Oasis in the cruel environment.

The outsiders begged and pleaded to be allowed in, but the city's citizens refused entry due to the radiation on the outsiders. Getting desperate, outsiders began fighting against themselves for the scarce resources that the destroyed land offered. The radiation changed and manipulated the DNA of the outsider as years passed. This marked the creation of two known groups: The Citizens of Life and The Crimson Outsiders.

A hundred years have passed since the war. The City of Life’s government opened the gate of their city. The message has spread across the wasteland. Many outsiders were curious, and others cautioned. After all, everything comes with a price in the wasteland….

The hot sun shone across the desolate red wasteland. Dead burned skeletal remains of trees cast long eerie shadows, an illusion of a once lush forest. The night was descending upon the stricken dry land. Once darkness consumed the earth, a figure appeared from underneath the roots of the remains of a tree.

He stood up, brushing the soil from his pants, stitched together with practiced hands, and picked up his satchel, made with some sort of purplish leather. He slipped on his patcher work coat over his once white, now rusty red t-shirt. His cyan hair is chopped short, revealing small goat horns beginning to grow.

Scott, better known as Poison Poppy, glances around, his llama-like ears swiveled alert, searching for any life near him. Red and yellow eyes searched the dark wasteland, seeing clearly in the dark. Once deeming it clear, he pulled his dark green bandanna with a red poppy symbol stitched over his nose. He pulled out a fedora and placed it on his head along with the bandanna. His llama ears drooped with the weight of his beloved hat.

Double-checking once more, Scott began to sprint across the bare land. His steps nearly mimicked an elk in gracefulness and a cheetah in swiftness. As impressive as he was, he knew he was at the bottom of the food chain. He was weak compared to Red King and Scarlet Macaw.

He was currently being hunted by both as of this moment. Scott didn’t do anything to anger them. No. It was the opposite. He had them worried and pissed.

It was a tough life in the wasteland. You needed allies to watch your back. To depend on you and depend on them in return. Everyone tended to be loners in the red desert. Scarlet Macaw and Red King were the only two that Scott trusted. So, when Scott sent them a mimic bird that he was heading to Life City, he didn’t expect this type of reaction.

Both had sent mimic birds back, threatening, pleading, begging for him not to go. Scott had admitted he was curious about non-radiated people. He knew vaguely what his ancestors looked like before the radiation had affected them. Plus, his thirst for adventure was never quite quenched. They met up with him and refused to let him enter the city, saying it was too dangerous. When Scott refused to listen to them, they resorted to trying to take him back to the sandcastle, the base they shared, but Scott is known for being slippery. Once he had gotten away, he immediately started to head north, toward Life City.

Scott kept sprinting, heading north as fast as he could. He could tell he was getting farther north as real grass patches had begun to spring up around him. Scott soon slowed down his pace as the moon had reached the middle of the night sky. Taking a moment to pause, he studied the plants around him. Sure, he had seen and used them in his everyday life, but something about plant life made him pleased. He slowed his pace, only slightly to admire the grass and the sacred flowers.

After hours of more running and walking, just as dawn had begun to rise, Scott had just found a large rock to settle under to sleep the day away, something in the distance had caught Scott's eye. Barely visible, a small black dot sparkled in the distance. Scott’s ears perked up happily. He had found it!

He had just enough time to celebrate his discovery before something else caught his attention. A long mournful howl filled the air, shaking Scott to his core, his ears swiveling and head whipping around, trying to find out where the sound came from. Scott looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowing on two figures in the distance, closing in fast. A screech echoed the howl.

Scott cursed under his breath and snatched up his satchel. Damn it, they found him.

He took off sprinting in the direction of the city, heart beating out of his chest. If they caught him now, he would be in the cell for a week for sneaking off, and then be guarded like a fragile piece of glass for another month. He grumbled at the prospect.

He wasn’t helpless. He stole from Blood Moon and got off scot-free. He can survive just fine by himself. But Red King and Scarlet Macaw think that because he doesn’t have powerful adaptations, he is defenseless. But he’s not!

Scott huffed to himself as he ran, periodically looking behind him and above him, looking for Scarlet Macaw in the air. Glancing behind him, he was pleased to see his allies had stopped under the boulder under which he was going to sleep. He could see Red King’s wolf ear twitch under his crown along with Scarlet’s wings ruffled with discontent.

King shouted, “You won’t get far Poison! We’ll get you. You’ll never make it in the day!”

Scarlet added, “You’ll sooner pass out from the heat than make it all that way to the city! Come on Poison, you’re being irrational!”

Scott could feel his ears twitch in irritation. “I can handle myself!” Scott yelled back. “If you two are so worried, why not join me?” He didn’t bother to stop for a response as he was determined to get to the city.

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In the city, another figure had just woken up with the sun. He lay in bed for a moment, admiring his partner's face. He pecked his lover’s forehead before getting up and ready for the day. He got dressed and headed out of the house.

Jimmy, known as the Rancher of the city, along with his partner, Tango, live on the only sustainable farm in the city. Everyone in the city depends on the farm animals and crops that the Ranchers produce. The farm has been in Jimmy’s family since the fall of the bombs. Many others have tried to start farms but do not have enough resources to reasonably produce food. It was one of the many reasons that Mayor Scar chose to open the walls. Another was to see if letting citizens establish homes outside of the city was safe as it has gotten overpopulated over the last hundred years.

Stepping out of the house, Jimmy cased his gaze toward the huge metal gate where guards were positioned. One thing that surprised everyone was the Crimson Outsiders. It had been a normal exploring expedition when the group stumbled across a house made of red sand. The group had explored it and as they were leaving a woman with a red cloak, wolf body, and moth wings attacked them.

Soon another group came across a guy with a mustache who had the body of a panther, sharp fangs, and red eyes. The vampire guy was quite friendly with the Life group. He explained the systems of the wasteland and who the lady was. The group brought him into the city, and he had an audience with the mayor. The day after the mayor declared that people were able to go outside of the wall for short periods. People were enthusiastic about the chance to explore and expand.

Now, the gate was open all the time, and many groups headed out to explore and study the wasteland. Every hour, a group was sent out. Sometimes bringing a wastelander with them. Every new creature that walked through the gates seemed to vanish as suddenly as they were seen. They never left the city; Jimmy knew that for sure. Once a Crimson entered, they were never set free again due to their being dangerous. Blood Moon had proven that.

Jimmy shook his head, sighing to himself. It wasn’t his business. He headed towards the barn to begin work for the day. But little did he know that it would be soon.

_____________________________________________________________

Scott panted harder as the sun rose higher into the sky, each step feeling harder by the minute. He was drenched in sweat. His ears were droopy. He was exhausted from running for nearly five full days. Water was an issue, but he was hoping that he was close enough to the city that he wouldn’t have to think about it. Multiply time he thought about stopping and curling up to sleep, but every time he thought about his allies catching him, he powered on through spite.

Scott stumbled around midafternoon. He landed on his front and groaned, getting a mouth full of sand. He spits and coughs, glaring at the sand that wronged him. He forces himself to push his sore tired body up onto his elbows. He hangs his head down, staring at the sand as sweat drips down his face. It’s got to be close, Scott thought to himself. I have gone this far; I’m not giving up now.

Scott got to his knees and stood up, looking up and gasping. There, in front of him, the city loomed over him. The giant obsidian walls cast a long shadow on the red sand below. He wasn’t close enough to make any details out, but he could see a group of specks, he assumes people, exiting the walls. Scott perked up happily. He was here!

Scott began to head towards the entrance then paused. Does he want to enter straight in? A smirk crossed his lips. Nah, sneaking around is his forte, plus Life citizens probably have some cool stuff to take. He doesn’t want to deal with all the rules he’ll probably be told.

Nodding to himself, Scott headed a bit closer but stopped once he could see the gate more easily. He settled behind a small hill to scout out the front, his llama tail wagging in excitement from underneath his coat. A yawn forced its way out of his mouth as he lay there in the warm sun. His exhaustion swiftly catches up to him, reminding him that he needs sleep. Scott tried to stay awake, but it was in vain. Scott fell asleep within minutes.

A commotion causes Scott to jolt awake. He sits up, his head whipping back and forth. The first thing that Scott noticed was that it was night, second the noise was coming from behind him. Twisting around, he saw Scarlet and King had caught up. The shocking thing was that they were fighting against the city guards. Scarlet had a bent wing and was hopping around aggressively, talons meeting swords. King wasn’t fairing much better, he was bloody, his sunglasses cracked, and his maw bared in a snarl as he clawed at the guards, his tail fluffed up in a show of aggressiveness.

Scott sprung up from his hiding spot, his ears shot up in alarm. Why were they fighting!? Life City was supposed to welcome outsiders. Scott was about to rush into the fray to help but froze when more guards showed up. These guards had more weapons and nets. Both of his allies were too distracted to notice the new guards creeping up behind them. All Scott could do was watch as his friends were taken down, both being knocked out easily once they were in the nets. Their bodies were drug into the city, all the guards following.

Scott gritted his teeth as his dual eyes glowed in the starlight. He caused this; he was going to recuse them. Scott sprinted towards the city, a new determination in his heart.

Once he reached the towering gate, Scott sucked in a quick breath and slammed himself against the wall as two guards stood near the entrance. They were deep in conversation thankfully and didn’t notice him. Scott frowned and bit his lip, trying to figure out how to get past them when he locked eyes with one of the most awesome animals he had ever seen. He had only heard of it but it was a llama! A real-life llama! A thought came to him, and he grinned.

“You are going to be my ticket in here,” Scott whispered to the llama. The llama tilted his head at Scott and baed. Scott bleated back softly and kicked the fence down, scaring the llama in the process, causing it to charge towards the guards. The guards cried out in surprise as Scott ran into the llama pen, heading towards the barn to hide for the time as lights began turning on around them.

He quickly looked around before settling on hiding behind some hay. Scott sighed as he settled down to wait.

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It had been a night for Jimmy and Tango. A llama had escaped in the night and was terrorizing the guards. It took nearly an hour before Tango managed to lasso it and bring it to the pen, only to discover that the fence had broken. Tango brought it to the other pen while Jimmy grabbed some wood from the barn.

As Jimmy entered the barn, Jimmy had sworn he had seen something in the hay, but brushed it off, thinking it was a rat. He grabbed the wood and fixed the fence. Once he was finished, he apologized profusely to the guards for the llama. The guards brushed it off and said it was okay, accidents happened. He and Tango immediately went to bed, completely exhausted.

The next morning when Jimmy went into the barn, he knew something was wrong. The door leading to the llama pen was wide open, which he knew neither he nor Tango opened.

Said llama was lying in the hay, eating happily. But the llama wasn’t alone. A figure was fast asleep cuddled into the llama’s side, his llama ears were drooped as he slept, a troubled expression on his face. His matching llama tail twitched with every muttered phase.

Jimmy wasn’t sure what to do. He had a cute mutant in his barn, cuddling with his llama. Jimmy simply turned around and headed back to the house. It was too early to deal with this without coffee.

Jimmy walked into the house, startling Tango who was making breakfast.

“Done already? That was fast.” Tango commented.

Jimmy stared at the coffee pot as the brown holy water filled his cup. “Haven’t even started. An outlander is sleeping in the hay.” Jimmy replied.

“Oh, that makes sense.” Tango nodded happily before the words registered. “Wait What!?” Tango said.

“Yeah, I don’t know what to do,” Jimmy said as he pulled out his coffee and chugged it down in one go.

“Call Scar, of course!” Tango exclaimed. “All Crimson need to be brought to town hall before they can be free to roam around!”

Jimmy frowned as he looked at his empty cup, then looked at Tango. “You go take a look at him; he's so cute compared to all the outsiders I have seen.”

“Fine! I will.” Tango leaves and comes back a few minutes later.

“See what I mean?” Jimmy said as he raised an eyebrow towards his partner.

“He is cute,” Tango said, red dusting his cheeks, “Especially his ears, that still doesn't change the fact that we still need to call Scar.”

Jimmy protested. “I doubt that he’s dangerous! At most, he could probably stab someone like every other person in the city can!”

“Exactly! He could stab someone! He is from the Crimson! He’s going to be violent!”

“He just seemed scared!” Jimmy argued. “Why don’t we wake him up and have a conversation before he judges him!” Tango seemed taken aback by the idea but relented.

“Okay. But I am bringing the phone and pitchfork in case.”

____________________________-------------------------------

Scott whined as he woke up to something licking his face. He pushed it away, assuming it was one of the creatures of the Crimson. When it persisted, Scott opened his eyes to glare, only to be assaulted by more licks. He stutters and laughs as he remembers falling asleep next to his llama friend. He pats the nose of the llama, and his ears perk as he hears voices coming closer to the barn.

He quickly gets up from the hay and climbs up the ladder to the loft. He hunched down as he watched the barn door. Two people walked in. One had sunshine blond hair, and eyes like the rare cocoa bean he found. At least to say, he was gorgeous. The other was a little taller, he had brown eyes that nearly looked red and had blond hair as well. It looked like flames in the light of the doorway. They both were undeniably handsome.

The two looked toward where he was, then looked at each other, then back at the spot.

“Dammit. Where did he go!?” The flame head said. Frantically glancing around, like he was going to get attacked.

“Tango, relax. He’s around here somewhere. We would have seen him leave. “The other reassured and called out, “Excuse me, Mister llama man? Can you come out, please? We just wanted to talk.”

“Jimmy!” Tango hissed, “He could be dangerous, he is a crimson. We don’t want to invite him out!” Scott's expression soured and his ears flicked. He wasn’t that dangerous.

“Tango! Be nice. You are judging someone before you properly meet him.” Jimmy chided him. Scott tilted his head, curiously.

Before Scott or the others could do anything, the llama bleated upwards at Scott. Jimmy and Tango looked at the llama before following the llama’s gaze. Scott locked eyes with Tango, his ears pinning backward and tensed. Tango opened his mouth to shout but Jimmy stepped on his foot, causing him to yelp. Jimmy steps forward.

“Hey there,” Jimmy smiled at him. “Sorry for scaring you. I’m Jimmy and this is my partner, Tango. You are from the Crimson, right?”

Scott sneered. “I think you know damn well that I am. I heard your conversation.” Tango's cheek flushed and Jimmy winced. “And for your information, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I find out where your people took my allies.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Tango asked.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know,” Scott glared. “Guards are grabbing any Crimson that dares to get near the gate. My friends assumed that I was grabbed, and they were caught.” Tango shared a lost look with Jimmy, who looked somewhat guilty.

“I didn’t know that Mayor Scar was kidnapping people, I thought they willingly chose to stay in the city. Scott barked out a cold laugh.

“Of course not, we would rather be out in the desert.”

“But you just said your allies were captured because of you wanting to come here.” Tango had pointed out.

Scott snapped, “I was curious to see if the rumor was true,” Scott slid down the ladder. “I didn’t think it was true.” Tango looked stunned for a moment, Jimmy sharing a similar expression with a blush dusting his cheeks. “What?” Scott asked, crossing his arms around his chest.

“You’re adorable.” Jimmy sputtered. Scott scowled and bared his teeth.

“I am not! I am called Poison Poppy for a reason.” Jimmy looked concerned.

“Is that your real name?” Jimmy questioned. Scott shook his head.

“No, but all Crimsons have nicknames as names have power in the red sand.” Scott flicked his ears as he looked away from them with a huff, blushing slightly. “I suppose since we’re in the city I can give you my real name, only because you gave me yours. You can call me Scott.”

Tango and Jimmy were silently awed at the reaction. Scott turned to them again.

“Do you know where my friends could be kept?” Scott asked. Tango thought for a minute.

“Hey, Jimmy. Do you remember when Scar asked us to bring straw to town hall?” Tango pointed out.

“Oh yeah, they are probably still being held there since we were supposed to bring any creatures we found.” Jimmy winced and added, “No offense.” Scott shrugs.

“None taken. Thanks for the help. Just tell me the way to the town hall and I’ll be off.” Scott said.

“Hold on, you’re just going to go alone?” Jimmy said concerned.

“Well yeah.”

Tango facepalmed. “That sounds like a stupid idea. We could come with you and help.” Scott stared at him in surprise.

“Really?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah! We know our way around. We can help you get your friends out as well.” Scott narrowed his eyes, staring them down before reluctantly agreeing.

“Okay. Only because I need help. So, what’s the plan?” Tango and Jimmy shared a grin.

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Scott's nose itched as straw tickled it. He lays still as the wagon rolls up the ramp of the town hall. He had vaguely heard Tango and Jimmy talking to someone earlier when the wagon stopped once. His heart pounded in his chest. He was nervous and excited. He would free the others then they would be gone.

He tensed as the wagon stopped again.

“Pst, Scott, it is safe,” Jimmy whispered. Scott popped his head out of the straw and grinned at Jimmy before hopping out. Scott realized that they were in an office of some sort. Tango’s voice could be heard down the hallway along with an unknown one.

“Let’s go!” Scott whispered-shouted before he started to look around. Jimmy followed suit. Jimmy watched Scott carefully.

Scott got excited as he found a hidden lever and pulled it. He took a step back as a hidden door opened, revealing a staircase leading down. “I found it!” Scott called to Jimmy before he dashed down the stairs, not waiting for Jimmy to follow him.

Scott dashed down the staircase and when he came out to the bottom, he was in a cell block of some sort. Mutants filled each cell. Blood Moon was pacing around in one, another was the Fairy Queen with her iconic fairy wings and black headband. There were many more in the other cells.

Scott felt a chill go down his spine that something was wrong, but he shook it off. He started calling out.

“Macaw? King? Where are you?”

“Poison? Is that you?” The response came from the other side of the prison. Scott took off at the other end of the hall to find Scarlet King.

“King! You’re okay!” Scott said relieved. “Where is Macaw?” He asked as he looked around for a key or something to pick the lock.

King walked up to the bars. “Please call me Ren and you have to run Poison.” King- Ren pleaded, looking worse for wear.

Scott was taken aback. He had never seen King this scared and he had revealed his name. Crimson only revealed their names to each other if they felt like they were going to die or never see the other again.

“King? I mean Ren? What do you mean?” Scott said concerned, pressing against the bars. “And where is Scarlet?” Ren just shook his head.

“Go, quickly. For he returns and gets you too.” Ren begged. “Grian was taken yesterday by him and I don’t know where.” Ren took his hand and squeezed it.

Scott teared up. “No! I caused this. I need to let you out.” He held Ren’s hand tightly. “I’ll fix this.”

Ren looked saddened at him. “Go Poison.”

Scott wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and mumbled, “Scott. Call me Scott.” Ren smiled.

“It was a pleasure, Scott.” Ren said, “I will always consider you my brother.” Ren's gaze snapped behind Scott and he started growling.

Scott stepped away from the cell and turned around. Jimmy and Tango were standing there, and who he assumed was Scar was there as well. Scott tensed.

“Tango...? Jimmy…?” Scott asked as Jimmy gave him a weak smile and Tango looked guilty.

“We didn’t want you to leave,” Jimmy said softly. “So we told Scar…” Betrayal struck Scott to the core as the guy in purple stepped up.

“Hey there! I am Mayor Scar. I know this may seem bad but this is all a part of my rehabilitation plan for Crimsons.” The guy introduced. “You sir seem civil and ready to be a part of my lovely city. Jimmy and Tango even offered to house you with them.”

Scott hardened and glared at Scar. “No. I’m leaving.” Scott tried to push past him but Scar grabbed his arm.

“Sorry, but we can’t have you wandering out there. You could hurt one of the citizens.” Scar stared at him. “So you won’t be leaving here at all.” A dark tone crept into Scar's voice. Jimmy and Tango stepped up to grab Scott.

Panic gripped Scott's lungs. He did something he only saved for emergencies. He spit.

Scar cried out in pain as acidic saliva hit his hand, making him let go of Scott for a moment, giving Scott a second to run. Jimmy and Tango both lunged at him but he dodged. Taking the stairs three at a time, he bursts out of the hidden door. He ran out of the office and down one of the hallways. His ears twitched as he heard footsteps echo behind him as he turned a corner.

He realized it was a dead end but he couldn’t turn around. He saw a room at the end of the hall and tried the door. Locked. Scott kicked it as hard as he could. He heard the door creak. The voices were getting closer. He kicked harder causing it to splinter. He stumbled into the room and slammed the broken door closed. He shoved a dresser in front of it before backing up.

“Poison?” Someone asked behind him. Scott jumped and was met with Grian on the bed in a nest of blankets.

“Grian!” Scott said and hugged him. Grian looked shocked as Scott called him that.

“How did you know?” Grian asked as he hugged back. A rattle caught Scott’s attention.

“Ren told me. And call me Scott.” Scott responded before he looked down at Grian’s ankle, spotting a chain. “Oh… Grian..” Scott said then jumped as the door was pounded on, Brian's eyes wideing.

“Out the window.” Grian directed. “That’s you’re the best chance.”

Scott nodded and jumped off the bed. He opened the window and looked back at Grian. “Thank you. I promise, if I get away, I will live the best life.” Grian smiled a bit then tensed as the door cracked even more.

“I know you will. Now go!” Scott leaped out the window into the bushes. He climbed over the large iron fence and leaped from the top, wincing in pain as he felt his ankle twist as he landed. He stood up and began running down the street, startling many citizens. Guards who noticed began giving chase through the crowded streets.

As Scott ran, the houses thinned out and he could see the farm and the gate. His ankle screamed in agony as he pushed himself more, having more guards on his heels. The gate guards were oblivious to what was happening as he approached. His eyes lit up with hope as he drew near. He was so close. Just a little more.

Blinding pain flashed through him as an arrow embedded itself into his leg. He screamed as he crashed to the ground. He rolled, hitting his head hard on the stone. Blood dripped down his forehead as he reached towards the entrance before he passed out from hitting his head too hard.

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Scott leaned against the wall of the room he was in. His leg and head were wrapped in bandages and his ankle propped up. An ankle chain was put on his good ankle when he tried to climb out of the second-story window. His eyes blank as Tango tried to encourage him to eat.

“Come on Scott…” Tango begged. “You haven’t eaten in two days... I know you’re upset, but please.” Scott weakly glared at Tango and turned his head away. Tango sighed.

Jimmy entered the room with a soft knock. “He still refusing to eat?” He asked, carrying a bowl of broth.

“Yes. And he’s refusing to speak again.” Tango reported to Jimmy.

Jimmy walked over, setting the broth down on a table, and hugged Scott. “I know you hate us right now, but I hope you and the other Crimson will see that this is better.”

Scott didn’t respond verbally but a tear rolled down his cheek. Tango sees and hugs Scott's other side. Soon, Scott was a sobbing mess. He mourned his freedom, his friends, and his home. Scott soon fell asleep, exhausting himself from crying with the ones who loved him too much to let him go.

#dangthatsalongname #scott smajor #smajor1995 #smajor #mcyt #alternate universe #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #flower husbands #flower ranchers #3rd life #goodtimeswithscar #grian #rendog #pearlescentmoon #wasteland #au #oneshot

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