It was that lone goal that kept Jak moving, kept him motivated. Less than twenty-four hours after bring broken out of prison, and he was already being acquainted with the finer points of Haven City life. It was bad enough in the prison, and unfortunately the outside wasn't much of an improvement.
Apathy was the only emotion he could see on the faces of the people, other than fear when a Krimzon Guard drew near. Jak couldn't help it; he felt his own stomach knot and his chest tighten whenever that armor came into view, whenever a vehicle passed overhead.
Wherever this city was, it had gone to shit. Rotting and decaying buildings leaned drunkenly against one another, people collapsed dead in the street and no one appeared to collect the bodies for hours. KG brutalized women and children, and everyone just quietly looked the other way.
It made him sick.
It wasn't just that though. The Dark Eco pulsed through his veins, twisting and churning, whispering evil, hateful things in his mind, making his head spin and his stomach lurch with confusion. But no matter how many times he stopped to lean against a wall and spit, he couldn't throw up. Couldn't purge it, couldn't get it out.
He had to keep going. It was all he had.
No, that wasn't true. He had Daxter. Daxter who'd found him in the prison, guided him out through the factory areas, led him through the streets and warned him of the more predictable patrols.
Now, as he waited for the pumping station's doorlock to open, he took a moment to lean against the wall and rub his face tiredly.