Chapter Text
Haven City changed the moment the King attacked Praxis.
No one knew what happened preceding the incident. No one knew why it had happened. Only that there was no going back. One minute the world was peaceful and quiet. The next, hell had broken loose.
The people had rebelled. Those who had feared and hated the Eco Channelers from the very beginning seized the opportunity for war– and it only grew from there.
The loop of the King attacking his Advisor played on repeat, on every screen littering the City, for a week. Praxis’ voice shouted from the speakers: “Turn in the filthy Channelers. Our King has betrayed us! Protect your City from these vile freaks!”
-/-
Daxter blinked, abruptly brought back to the present. He stared down at his notebook, full of nonsensical doodles and scribbles.
Tapping his pen against the paper, he glanced up at Sig and decided now was a good time to focus, before he got called out for daydreaming - again.
“-a fool willing to go outside the walls to fish. The Cannery freezes and stores the meat, which is why it needs the extra security.”
Dax nodded solemnly and bent down to draw a lopsided stick-fish in his notes.
“The most important, however, is the Gardens.” Sig touched the electronic screen, zooming out from the Port onto a simplistic map of Haven City. Tapping again, this time near the Bazaar, the class now stared at an aerial shot of the Gardens.
“Fortunately, if anything were to happen to the Gardens, the City has a seed of every plant stored away. That information is classified, however.”
Someone sitting near the back of the classroom sighed.
Dax zoned out slightly as Sig rambled about agriculture and how important it was to preserve the vegetation and farm animals that lived in that sector. It still baffled him that the Baron wholeheartedly believed that yakows deserved more care and attention than the orphans that suffered on the streets.
He rolled his eyes and scribbled onto his paper: Can’t grow big and strong without our fruits and veggies! Please be willing to throw down ur life for this. Thank you. :)
Smirking, he glanced at his fellow classmates and wondered what they were writing down with such serious looks on their faces.
“Daxter!”
Dax flinched, nearly throwing his pen across the room. “What?”
“Are you paying attention?” Sig’s gaze narrowed, his red optic eye shining brightly.
“I’m writin’ notes!”
“With that smirk on your face? Bullshit.”
Busted.
Dax neatly folded his hands on the desk and grinned. “I was just thinkin’ of somethin’ really funny, that’s all Siggy! You know how my thoughts are all jumbled up in this noggin?”
Sig grunted. “Well then. You can share them all with me after class.”
Great. Just great.
He heard snickering, and when he turned in his seat to glare, he was of course met with a bunch of poker-faced cowards. Dax huffed and slumped down into his seat. Sig was right, he hadn’t bothered writing notes. There was no point in suddenly acting like he was now.
He glanced surreptitiously at Keira. Her lips were pressed together tightly. Her leg was also twitching, bouncing up and down in an agitated manner. Glancing down at her tablet, he wasn’t surprised to see the small screen full of text. With a smirk, he made a show of leaning towards her. “Neeerd.”
The grimace on her face deepened, and she firmly ignored him. Oh well. Dax vaguely remembered her telling him once how irritating it was when class had to halt due to his shenanigans.
As if it were his fault that Sig liked to target him in particular. Daxter just didn’t feel the need to waste time and resources writing notes for something he already knew. His eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall. Only five more minutes. He could handle that.
“Chili pepper,” Sig tapped on the screen, not bothering to turn around. “You better be markin’ this down.”
“Oh, absolutely!” Dax straightened and slammed his pen down onto his notebook with unnecessary force. He could practically hear Keira’s teeth grind, and felt a burst of satisfaction.
Time seemed to drag on by the minute. Sig babbled on about common knowledge, just with a few added details the public didn’t know. This sector has that. That sector has this. Blah, blah, blah.
At least class was different everyday. They were only required to attend twice a week. One day would focus on knowledge and crucial details. The next they would train for battle - either the gun course or hand-to-hand combat.
When the buzzer rang, Daxter felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. Freedom!
“Do not forget about community service this weekend!” Sig hollered. “Check the tablet to see your duties!”
The sound of books shuffling, and chairs scraping across the floor filled the air. Daxter glanced at Keira as she cleaned up. “Uh, hey, Keira? I have somethin’ to ask you.”
“Hm?” Green doe eyes met his.
He leaned in with a completely straight face. “I totally forgot to take notes. Can I copy yers?”
Keira’s expression instantly darkened. She glared at him bitterly, and silently packed the rest of her things.
Daxter watched her leave, snickering to himself. Pressing her buttons never got old. She should really learn to stop playing into his hand.
Like the rest of the students, he stopped by the tablet hanging near the door. It showed a list of all their names, matched with the assignment they would have to do. The assignment itself was randomly generated by the computer. Daxter had done every single one so far, and definitely had his preferences.
His eyes scanned the electronic screen.
Daxter …… Border Patrol
He immediately groaned. Dammit, his feet were gonna hurt!
Sig was seated at his desk. If Dax could just walk out without being noticed then-
“Hey. Get your skinny ass over here.”
Daxter winced and obediently shuffled to his desk. He knew better than to ignore Sig. He had tried it once. Sig was a big man, and there was nothing more shit-your-pants terrifying than the sight of him sprinting down the hallway towards you, even with his prosthetic leg.
The classroom was empty.
Sig simply held his hand out. “C’mon. Give it.”
Hands tightening defensively on his bag strap, Dax gritted his teeth. “C’mon big guy, are ya really gonna waste yer time with this?”
“Yeah. It’s kinda my job.” Sig glared at him, brows lowering over his eyes. “Give it.”
Reluctantly, Daxter handed over his notebook. Crossing his arms, he glared out the windows. Well, the windows weren’t technically real. They were screens. Sig could pick and choose what he wanted the screens to show to the class. Today the projection was vibrant, green shrubbery and trees. All to cover up the gray, bleak outside world of Haven City.
With a sigh, Sig snapped the book close. He rubbed at his forehead. Daxter held his breath.
“Do I need to show this to your brother?”
Paling, Daxter lunged forward to snatch his notebook back, but Sig was faster. “No! No, Precursors sake, no!”
They grappled for a bit as he futilely tried to get his hands on the book, before Sig finally pushed him gently, but firmly, away with one hand. “Torn busted his ass gettin’ you in here again. Don’t you think this is a spit in the face?” He waved the book pointedly.
“I’m not gonna write notes on shit I already know!” Daxter snapped venomously. “I passed all my tests last year, didn’t I? Let it go, man!”
Sig’s hand clenched on his notebook. For a split, frightening moment Dax thought Sig would destroy it in retribution. The moment ended. Sig handed the book back with a sigh. Anger instantly vanished from both of them.
Shit. He had really just snapped at his teacher? Sure, he knew Sig better than the rest of the students, but they weren’t even remotely friends.
“Sorry - uh, sir.” Dax bit his lip.
“Listen, kid. I’ll let you write whatever bullshit notes you want, on one condition.” Sig pointed at him sternly, and Daxter instinctively registered it as a big brotherly gesture. “You show Torn the notebook yourself, or I will.”
Daxter gulped and hastily nodded. “Okay, okay. Geez.”
Sig nodded, apparently pacified. “Good. Now get the hell out of my classroom.”
This time, Daxter saluted and grinned hugely. “Sir, yes sir!” He ignored the warning glare and quickly rushed for the exit.
Before turning the corner, Dax took one last look at his teacher.
Sig appeared wary and tired, isolated in the empty room. The expression on his face twisted unpleasantly, as he bent down to massage his leg. Dax couldn’t help but stare at the dark KG tattoos marking his face.
Unwilling to call Sig on his bluff, Dax stopped by Torn’s office on his way out of the building. It wasn’t inconvenient after all, since he was heading in that direction anyway.
"Messy as ever," Dax commented as soon as he opened the door.
Torn paused from typing at his computer and glanced up. "What's the problem now?"
"Problem? Like I can't visit my favorite big brother in the world?" Skipping on sitting in one of the office chairs, he instead propped his elbows on the desk and fluttered his eyelashes.
"Watch it," Torn snapped and nudged Daxter's elbows away. Backing off, Dax sheepishly watched Torn rearrange the papers back into their former place. They weren't at all organized, causing Dax to wonder why Torn bothered to make an issue of it.
"Seriously. I'm busy. What do you want?"
Daxter rolled his eyes and dug into his messenger bag. He purposely threw his notebook onto the desk as roughly as possible. There. Watch the prick rearrange that .
Torn merely quirked his brow.
"Sig wants you to take a look."
No sooner had the words left his mouth that Torn was flipping through the pages. It only took a second, tops, for those sharp eyes to see his senseless drabbles. He simply pushed the notebook back. Without another word, he went back to his computer.
Stomach dropping, Dax wordlessly put it away. The silence, the lack of reaction, felt worse somehow. Clenching his fists, he asked, "Got nothin' to say?"
"What do you want me to say?" Torn's lip curled in irritation. "I can't force you to do anything."
"Sure doesn't feel that way," Daxter mumbled sardonically.
"If you want to fail the course again that's your choice." Torn waved his hand in obvious dismissal. "The Baron won't give you another chance."
The words struck him right where it hurt the most, leaving him defenseless. Head dipped low, Dax saw himself out.
-/-
Slamming the front door to his house shut with unnecessary force, Daxter made a beeline for the kitchen.
“Hey! Watch it!” Tess’ voice echoed from deeper inside the house.
Daxter ignored her and flung open a cabinet where they stored the snacks and began shoving various bags of junk food and granola bars into his bag.
“Hi, Daxxie.” Her voice was closer this time, and significantly brighter.
“Hiya, Tessie.” Dax turned around.
His sister stood in the door frame leading to the hallway. She held a hairbrush in one hand. Her hair was damp, turning light blonde to deep gold. Obviously she had just jumped out of the shower. The scent of her strawberry soap was strong.
Every time, without fail, Daxter’s eyes landed on her KG tattoos before anything else. Everything about Tess was just so… light. Her pale skin, sky-blue eyes and platinum blonde hair. The tattoos on her face stood out too much, like they had used an ink shade darker than intended.
She paused in brushing her hair. Her smile immediately fell with sympathy. “Oooh. Bad day?”
“Sig is such an asshole!” Dax immediately began ranting. “He thinks it’s fuckin’ hilarious or somethin’ to stop class just to humiliate me! Total fuckin’ power trip. And Torn refuses to pull the stick outta his ass and give a crap about anythin’! Like, forget giving me a pep talk, the dude can’t even yell at me, or lecture me, or anythin’!”
“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, baby.” She shot the clock a glance and bit her lip. “I have enough time, if you wanna sit down and talk about it?”
He waved her off. “Nah, it’s nothin’. Don’t be late for patrol. The Baron might not give you another chance.” His voice deepened with bitterness.
Tess sighed and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Sig and Torn care about you, Daxxie.”
Dax rolled his eyes. “Quit it, yer gonna make me puke.”
“No, you quit it. They want you to succeed, because they know you have potential. I guess they just… don’t go about it the best way.”
He placed his hand over hers, soaking in the warmth. “Yeah? And what do you think?”
Tess smiled affectionately. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, you know that. No matter what you choose, I’ll support you. Personally, I think you’d make a great Krimzon Guard. With you on our side, we’d win this war in, like, five minutes.” She laughed, hand tightening on his shoulder.
Daxter’s lips twitched mirthlessly.
“If you graduate this year, I’ll take you out to a big, fancy dinner. Chocolate cake and everything. But, if you drop out again, I’ll do the exact same thing.” Tess winked then leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”
He sighed. “Yeah? Shoot, me too.”
Tess giggled and released him. She lingered in the hallway, and messed with her hair again.
Dax turned, ready to go down into the basement. He hesitated in the doorway, feeling marginally guilty for unloading his problems onto her before she had to go to work. “Hey! Want help puttin’ yer armor on?”
She paused from twisting her hair into a bun to smile at him. “You’re a sweetheart, but no.”
Satisfied with that, Dax grinned back and descended down the stairs, to his room.
Technically, he used to have a bedroom, but it had quickly been turned into a storage room. Tess and Torn stored their KG armor, weapons, and important paperwork there. Dax had nothing to do with it.
Instead, he had taken advantage of the basement. It was clean, dry, and even had a half bathroom. The washer and dryer prevented him from having complete privacy, but they developed a system so that no one just barged downstairs unexpectedly.
The washer and dryer were under the stairs. There were two doorways in front of him. One that led to the small bathroom, and the other to his room.
The bedroom wasn’t fancy by any means. It was just a bit claustrophobic and dirty. On one side, he had a futon. On the other side was his desk. That was it. Sure, he had hung up some posters, but nothing could really defeat that basement feel.
Robotically, Daxter crashed into his chair and turned on the desk lamp. He dumped everything from his bag onto his desk. Then bent down to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of beer.
After a minute of shuffling everything around, he finally had a pencil in hand and a packet of homework glaring up at him.
Notes were one thing but schoolwork was another.
Cheek cupped in his palm, he slumped over his desk and stared blankly at the jumbled mess of words sitting in the golden waning light from his lamp.
Idly, his eyes drifted to where his name, ID number, and date marked the top of the page.
He blinked, once. Twice. He read his name, over and over. Slowly, he lifted his pencil.
Leaning back, he stared at what he’d written and frowned.
Daxter - No.1 Krimzon Guard