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JAK AND DAXTER :: Eclipsed (3/3)

2008-04-10T03:13:11Z

* * *

ECLIPSED
By Otana

Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belong to Naughty Dog and SCEA, I claim no rights to the characters or games in this fan work and am making no money from it.

* * *

Torn sat in silence, his chin on his hands. He'd pulled his seat to within a few feet of Jak's chair, as close as he dared to get. Not that he was really Jak anymore. As Torn kept watch, those deep, black eyes stared back at him, evaluating. Calculating.

Whenever he'd transformed, Jak would lose himself in the rage and become little more than a rampaging beast, dark eco incarnate. A whirling flurry of claws and teeth, tearing and shredding to a background of furious grunts and snarls. The perfect killing machine.

But now he was silent, nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily. His muscles were tense and bulged against the restraints, taut like a coiled spring, ready to pounce. His ears twitched with every sound, taking stock of everything around him. Ashelin sipping coffee. Samos turning dusty pages. Onin's rings and bangles clicking as she cast runes. Pecker snoring, his tail coiled around a ceiling beam.

But it was those eyes that worried Torn the most. Shining black and wide, brimming with hateful resentment and pure fury. He felt like a lightning mole facing down a lurker wolf, being examined by a fearsome predator with no defenses of his own. He could see his own death in those eyes, and it unnerved him. He remembered Jak's terrified, pleading eyes just an hour ago. These were cold and dark, devoid of any humanity. Jak was gone.

Huffing once, a small, feral smirk curled Dark Jak's lip to reveal a sharp fang. He'd seen the fear in Torn's gaze, and he liked it. Turning his head, he closed his eyes. They both knew he would escape eventually, and when he did, it would be devastating. The thick steel chains across his chest were cracked and chipped, the arms of the chair bent upwards a few inches, eco locks stretched and sparking. He'd been testing his bindings, pushing the limits. Planning. Calculating.

Wiping his forehead, Torn stood up and looked at the clock. He'd already waited sixteen minutes past the deadline. "Where the hell is that transport?" he barked, covering his fear with frustration.

Samos looked up from the book and cleared his throat, casting a glance at Ashelin. She hesitated, then rubbed her arm.

"The transport landed hours ago. Sig and Daxter ... weren't on it."

"What? Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

She shook her head and stood up. "Because I knew you'd kill him. Because I thought ... I hoped he might pull through."

Samos spoke up, "Don't blame Ashelin, Torn. I saw the transporter too. I know you'd have done the same thing," he added.

Dark Jak sighed, a gruff kind of snort, then his arms relaxed.

Everyone fell silent. Something ... in the room. Not something ... an absence of something. Ashelin shivered and wrapped her arms around herself and Samos hung his head. Onin's eyes widened, then she gestured sweepingly.

Waking with a start, Pecker blinked a few times, then unwound his tail and fluttered over to them. "Onin says, de last of Jak's light has gone out. He can fight no more," he said.

Rubbing his temple, Torn was quiet. That was it, their last hope, gone. "Let's end this. The next time he wakes up, it'll be too late."

Walking over to the table, he picked up Jak's discarded morph gun, unclipping the sniper attachment and snapping the Peace Maker one in its place. Just one round. Good, that's all he'd need.

Nobody moved to stop him. Defeated, they all knew this had to be done.

Turning to the chair, he primed the weapon and flipped the charge switch, tensing as it whirred through the warm up sequence. His heart thudded in his chest and his hands were trembling and damp with sweat. He'd killed before, not just Metal Heads. Humans. Krimzon Guards. Old colleagues and people he'd once considered friends. But this was different. Whenever he'd killed before, it had been self-defense, a last resort.

This felt more like an execution.

The whine of the Peace Maker turned into a shrill hum and the barrel glowed.

He closed his eyes and offered a silent apology as his finger tensed on the trigger.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT!"

Sig leaned in the doorway, Daxter hanging onto his shoulder with his arm outstretched.

Torn blinked in surprise as he lowered the weapon, the charge dissipating. "Daxter? Sig? But I thought ..." He looked at Ashelin. "I thought the transport ..."

Daxter leaped off of Sig's shoulder and shook his fur out, smirking and holding up his hand, proudly brandishing the eco crystal. "No time for explanations, Torn baby. Let the Daxtinator work his magic with this here light eco." Strolling confidently past him, he climbed up onto the chair and winced, poking the familiar restraints with his toe. "Well this brings back memories."

Ashelin turned to Sig. "What happened? Why are you all --"

"I don't want to talk about it," was his terse reply as he sat down, pulling off his boots and pouring out the sludge and water.

Ashelin wrinkled her nose and covered her mouth, then wisely decided not to say anything further.

Holding the crystal tightly in his paws, Daxter stepped onto Dark Jak's chest. His ears dipped as he took in the sight. This really did bring back memories ... bad ones. Memories of finding Jak strapped down in prison, semi-conscious and in agony from two years of torture. Shaking his head, he turned the crystal over in his hands, then turned to the others.

"How do I even use this thing?" he asked, then pulled a face and held it out in disgust. "Oh PLEASE tell me it's not a suppository."

No one laughed.

Daxter put one hand on his hip. "What, not even a grin? Too low brow for you?"

Torn spoke quietly and carefully, raising his hand. "Daxter, come over here. Slowly."

"Huh? Why?" A hot blast of air ticked his ear and he rubbed it. "Hey Jak, knock it o --"

His eyes widened and he turned to see Dark Jak watching him, his chest heaving with growling breaths. Daxter felt the stomach muscles beneath his feet beginning to tighten and he backed up a few steps. "E-easy Jak ... it's me ... y-you remember me, right buddy?"

Dark Jak's lips curled back in a low, dangerous snarl and the chair began to creak, the eco restraints sparking and stretching.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Leaping into the air, Daxter hit the floor, his feet slipping on the tile. He crouched, trembling and hugging the eco crystal as Dark Jak roared and broke free of his makeshift prison, sitting up and holding his head in one hand.

Lurching off the chair, he tossed his head back and forth, claws flexing and slicing the air. Taking a deep breath, he let it out with a satisfied growl. Narrowing his eyes at Daxter, he bared his teeth in a threatening, predatory snarl and shifted his weight back.

"Sig, get the peace maker," Ashelin whispered.

"Way ahead of you," he muttered, heaving the weapon onto his shoulder and beginning the charge. "It's gonna take a while though."

Torn waved a hand slowly, keeping his eyes on Dark Jak. "Everyone, get to the door. Slowly. Sig, when you get a clear shot, take it."

"SKWARK! You don't have to tell me twice!" Pecker flapped out the door in a flurry of feathers.

Daxter scrabbled to his feet and prepared to make a run for the door, but then stopped. Biting his lip, he looked at the floor, then shook his head and stood tall. "No, I'm staying."

Dark Jak cocked his head to the side and huffed, muscles twitching in anticipation.

"Daxter, no!" Torn reached out to him, then stumbled back as Dark Jak hissed.

Swallowing, Daxter closed his eyes and steeled himself.

The beast howled and lunged at the ottsel, swiping one heavy arm through the air and slicing with razor sharp claws. There was a bloody-curdling scream and a thunderous crash, then a low, rumbling growl.

As Daxter opened his eyes, he saw Dark Jak half-embedded in a shattered table, cradling his hand and whining in confusion. Dark eco vapor smoked from a burn across his hand as he growled quietly, contemplating.

"Daxter, the crystal!" Samos cried. "It's reacting to Jak!"

The light eco crystal had begun to glow a brilliant blue in Daxter's paws. He held it up and gaped in amazement as it illuminated the room.

Tilting his head, Dark Jak stared at the crystal curiously, flexing his burned hand. Tightening it into a fist, he snarled and drew back.

Torn's eyes widened as he saw the movement. "He's figured it out, move fast, Daxter!"

Looking between Dark Jak and the crystal, Daxter frowned, then pulled his arm back and heaved the crystal into the air as Dark Jak lunged from the booth.

A thick smirk twisted Dark Jak's lips as he skidded to a stop, then opened his hand to catch the crystal, curling his claws around it. His palm hissed and seared and streams of dark eco vapor tinted the air, but he showed no sign of pain, locking eyes with Daxter and grinning ferally. As his fist contracted, the crystal cracked, then shattered into fractured shards, blue and white dust intertwining with the dark eco haze.

Daxter blinked in shock, his jaw hanging open. "No ..." He sat down hard and his shoulders slumped. "All that work ... Jak ..."

Smirking and baring his teeth, Dark Jak swayed and lowered himself into a crouch. His muscles twitched and rippled and he licked his lips, craving the taste of blood on his tongue and the soft bite of flesh between his teeth, longing to tear the fur from Daxter's body and feel his bones snap beneath his fingers. His eyes shined with malevolent delight and he tapped the floor with his claws impatiently, fingers twitching, waiting for the perfect moment.

The peace maker hummed and Sig narrowed his eyes, his trigger finger tensing.

Suddenly Dark Jak jerked and grunted, shaking himself and growling in confusion. Snapping his teeth, he pitched and reeled, hissing in pain. The air around him glittered blue with light eco and he tore at his throat, tossing his head from side to side as he howled.

"Wait!" Torn put his hand on the barrel of Sig's peace maker.

Stumbling, Dark Jak lurched and threw himself against the wall, swiping at the air and tearing at his hair. The light eco glowed with warmth and the fine shards were drawn to him as the dark eco began to evaporate in a fine purple mist. Dark Jak's knees buckled and he fell to the floor with a dull thud, moaning and curling on his side as his claws began to retract and the horns shrank into his hair. With one final bellow of pain, he slumped down, the light eco glow fading with the transformation.

"J ... Jak?" Daxter crept over on all fours, hesitantly. "Jak?"

Sig lowered his weapon, but kept the charge. "Daxter, be careful."

Reaching out with a trembling paw, Daxter touched Jak's arm. It was warm, and his paw pad tingled with the last sparks of light eco. Standing up, he grabbed Jak's shoulder and hauled his limp friend onto his back, eyes searching for any sign of life.

"Say something ... anything ..." he pleaded as tears welled up in his eyes. "C'mon, Jak ..."

It felt like an eternity had passed before the color began to return to Jak's cheeks and his eyelashes fluttered.

Daxter's face lit up. "JAK! You're alive!"

Cracking his eyes open sluggishly, Jak blinked at him. "Dax ...?"

Letting out a sigh of relief, Sig let the peace maker power down, holstering it.

Sitting up slowly, Jak held his head. "What happened? Where am I?"

Torn opened his mouth but Ashelin elbowed him sharply and shook her head. He grunted and folded his arms, but wasn't stupid enough to argue with her.

"You had a run-in with some Metal Heads, Jak," Samos explained diplomatically. "Just rest for now, we'll talk about it later."

Shaking his head once to clear it, Jak hauled himself to his feet. "I'm fine," he mumbled thickly.

"Jak ...?" Daxter winced as his friend's face turned a sickly shade of grey and swayed drunkenly before his eyes rolled back and he lurched forward, straight into Torn's arms.

"Reckless to the end." Torn shook his head and slung one of Jak's arms over his shoulder as Sig grabbed the other. "Help me take him out back, there's some bedding he can sleep it off on."

"I'll go too!" Daxter declared.

"Not like that, you won't!" Samos snapped, whapping him on the head with his staff. "You need a bath, you smell like a diseased hip hog!"

The ottsel put his hands on his hips and scowled. "No need to mince your words, old man. Why don't you tell me what you really think?"

Samos softened his expression and nodded. "You surprised me, Daxter. I'm proud of you, boy."

"Ooh, is that a compliment?" he grinned, puffing out his chest.

"Don't push it," Samos warned, raising his staff again as the rodent scurried out back to the shower.

Surveying the destruction, the old sage winced. The bar's once bright and gaudy furniture was scattered in pieces across the floor, cracks spidering up the walls and along the floor tiles. The chair that had restrained Dark Jak was nothing more than a heap of twisted metal and broken chains, a chilling reminder of how close they had all come to finding themselves on the receiving end of Jak's true power.

* * *

Wispy clouds of fog rolled over the harbor in the crisp night air, damp with the promise of rain. Leaning against the doorframe, Torn watched impassively as the guards patrolled the area, boots clicking against stone and guns rattling against protective armor. It'd been almost twenty years since he'd joined the Krimzon Guard, eight since he'd left. A scruffy, idealistic teenager with a strong sense of justice, he'd dreamed of protecting his home city ever since the Metal Heads had turned their sights to Haven.

Like most, he lied about his age on his enrolment papers, not that the Baron cared. He was wiry and slim, but fast with a weapon and even faster in a chase. But not fast enough.

Just two years after enrolment, he'd been called to a Metal Head attack on the southside. A demolition team had found an old condemned building crawling with juvenile Metal Head bugs and they'd scattered into the slums. By the time he got there, it was carnage. Hundreds injured or dead, mothers screaming over the bodies of their children, lovers weeping for their betrothed. He knew, even before the zoomer had docked at the drafty wooden hut. Inside, his mother mauled, his father guarding her fallen body, his leg swollen with a familiar bulge; a Metal Head egg sac.

At just seventeen years old, he'd put a bullet in his own father's head.

It changed him. He saw the war differently then, not just as a battle of good versus evil, a chance for him to play commando and save the day. If he could prevent just one more child from losing their parent, just one more family from being torn apart, then he would lay down his own life to do so.

The truth was, few shared his morality. Comrades took potshots at terrified civilians in the confusion of a raid, arrested and beat people for breaking trivial laws. Rather than being a cause for disciplinary action, this kind of behavior was rewarded by Commander Errol, a truly high-strung, megalomaniacal sadist if ever there was one.

Disheartened and confused, Torn had met Ashelin, the strong-willed and imposing daughter of the Baron. Forced into the Krimzon Guard against her will, she held a barely concealed distain for her fellow soldiers. They became close and confided in one another, until that day.

He still remembered it clearly, as if it were happening in front of his eyes. He'd been ordered to transport a shipment of eco from the harbor to the palace prison. The command had come from the Baron himself, he had strict orders to stop for no one and neither ask nor answer any questions about his mission. Second only to Errol, Torn was the KG's best driver and a natural choice to keep the precious cargo away from any stray Metal Heads.

The delivery was uneventful, but as he unloaded the barrels into the docking bay, he noticed one of the lids had not been sealed properly. As he leaned over to push it shut, he had seen what was inside.

Dark eco. Hundreds and hundreds of barrels of the dangerous substance, being delivered to the prison under orders of Baron Praxis.

He'd heard the rumors of the experiments, but as deep as his hatred for the KG had been, he didn't want to believe that even Haven City's tyrannical ruler would stoop so low. Now, the corruption and deceit within the supposed upholders of liberty and peace was undeniable, and without a word, he quit.

The rest, as they say, is history. He'd formed the Resistance as a way to unite all the various fractions of the underground. Criminals, Krimzon Guards, sages, wastelanders, men, women and even one small child.

He snorted humorlessly to himself, rubbing his eye. How ironic that the child he had helped to protect had turned out to be Jak, sent back in time to grow up in safety, returning through a rift gate as a young man. That plan had worked so well.

The scuffle of bare feet against tile made him turn and look over his shoulder. Jak hadn't noticed him as he padded out of the back room, a blanket draped around his shoulders, hair sleep-tousled and flecked with rubble. For just a moment, he looked like that little boy again. Lost and innocent, confused and oblivious to his real power.

Scratching the back of his neck, Torn turned to him. "Go back to sleep, Jak. You need the rest."

The boy jumped, and immediately his expression was guarded. "I couldn't sleep."

Torn could see the walls going up. As for the specifics of what had happened to Jak in prison, only he knew, and it wasn't like Jak to kiss and tell. Whatever it was, it must have been brutal to make him so hateful and distrusting, even keeping in mind the dark eco. With a grunt, he stood tall and pointed at a relatively in-tact booth. "Siddown." At Jak's confused look, he sighed. "Stand if you want, but I'm not carrying you back if you fall down."

Jak glared at him, but sat down in the booth, rubbing his face. He'd woken with a start a few hours before, his unconscious mind plaguing him with savage nightmares. Occasionally it felt like the dark eco bled into his dreams, twisting them and painting them with blood. Tonight it hadn't quite felt like a dream, it had felt ... real.

"Here."

He looked up as Torn sat down opposite him, shoving a cup at him. Jak looked at him questioningly.

"It'll help you sleep." Torn sipped at his own cup and watched Jak out of the corner of his eye. He was still concerned that he might change back, though he'd been calm -- if unconscious -- for almost twelve hours. Apparently Sig had shared his unease, though he hadn't said as much out loud, making excuses about bunking at The Naughty Ottsel overnight.

They sat in silence for a while, drinking and avoiding eye contact. Eventually Jak spoke up.

"I ... may have overreacted."

"'Bout what?" Torn asked noncommittally, putting down his cup.

Jak looked up. "Going to the forest. It was a stupid thing to do."

Torn raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Yeah, I guess it was."

It was a few minutes before Jak spoke again. "Is everyone okay?"

"They're fine."

"What happened to your hand?"

Torn's fingers instinctively grasped the cup a little tighter, his hand still sore from the bite. "KG bot. It's just a scratch."

He didn't really believe him. "Look, Torn --"

"Jak, things were really messed up."

Jak watched him drain his cup, then spoke quietly. "Is that why you put a gun to my head?"

Torn tensed, then looked guilty. "You remember?"

"Not really." Jak lifted his hand, a faint purple burn mark still visible on the palm. "Just pieces here and there."

"If things had been reversed, I know you'd have done the same thing."

"Maybe."

It was unsettling. Flashes of events blurred with anger. Vague memories and dream-like nuances. He remembered arguing ... leaving for the forest ... losing the fight. And then it was darkness. Errol? No, he was dead. It was hard to separate dreams from reality in the confusion, and he sighed in frustration, resting his head on his hands.

Torn could see Jak's internal struggle and he thought back to Ashelin's warning earlier. Something about involuntary castration if he made things worse while she was on patrol. Knowing Ashelin, it was no idle threat either. Shifting in his seat, he adjusted himself uncomfortably, then stood up. "I'm going to sleep. Get some rest, Jak, I'm serious."

Jak said nothing.

Reaching over to the bar, Torn tossed the Precursor text in front of the distracted boy. "The Shadow ... Samos left this for you. He said it was important." He shrugged. "If you're gonna stay up, you might as well do something productive."

Jak picked up the tattered text as Torn's footsteps retreated to the back of the bar. Thumbing through the pages mindlessly, he frowned. Flipping back, he stopped and stared at one page.

Dark ... Mar?

Leaning back in the booth, he began to read.

* * *

The midday sun scorched the dirt-trodden walkways of the Haven City market place. People bustled and hurried past one another, zoomers roaring across the elevated freeway encircling the stalls and booths, Resistance guards wandering amidst the crowds. Tucked away in a quiet corner of the bazaar was a large nondescript tent surrounded by innocuous clay jars and crates of fruit.

But inside told another story. Glowing skulls, ancient trinkets, candles and wind chimes hung from every available awning, infusing the simple dwelling with an otherworldly mystique. In the center was a large hand-woven rug, worn from years of use.

Surrounded by flickering candlelight, Onin sat with her legs crossed, eyes closed, waiting. A knowing smile parted her lips, and seconds later the tent flap opened. Heavy boots scuffed against the soft dirt, then stopped a few feet away. The Precursor text hit the ground, sending the candle flames whirling in a frenzy.

"Alright, enough running. Tell me what to do."

She raised her head. She may have been blind, but right then, she saw a hero.

Haven City's savior ...

... and his pet rat.

* * *

END

JAK AND DAXTER :: Eclipsed (2/3)

2008-04-10T03:11:38Z

* * *

ECLIPSED
By Otana

Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belong to Naughty Dog and SCEA, I claim no rights to the characters or games in this fan work and am making no money from it.

* * *

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, Ashelin lifted her goggles and eyed the entrance to the gaudy bar. She'd been barraged with calls from Torn, Samos and Jinx, but no one would tell her exactly what was going on. It was hard to make it in the army as a woman, even as the only daughter of Baron Praxis. But it was rare for the Resistance to hide facts from her, and she was suspicious.

A sudden crash from inside the bar snapped her back to reality and she tossed the bag through the door, drawing her gun and bursting inside. "What the ..."

Jak was laying on his back, writhing and moaning in pain as Torn straddled his chest and pinned his arms, Samos holding his legs down and muttering a quiet prayer. Blood soaked the table and dripped onto the floor and as she holstered her weapon, she could see the deep wound in Jak's shoulder was the cause.

"What the hell is going on?" she barked.

Torn looked up and a look of relief combined with desperation washed over him. "Ashelin!" He winced as Jak's struggles began anew, then finally went limp. "Did you bring everything?"

Suspicious and confused, she picked up the large bag and dragged it over to the table. "Yeah, it's all in there. God, what happened to him?"

Torn shook his head. "Just get the restraints! Before he wakes up again!"

She hesitated in confusion until Samos stopped his chanting. "Now, Ashelin! I'll explain more later!"

"Fine." Digging into the bag, she pulled out several straps and restraints, wrapping the thick leather bands around the table legs until Jak was firmly held down by the ankles and wrists. Charging the strong eco-powered locks, she stepped back and folded her arms as Torn and Samos finally felt safe enough to let go. "I don't like this. You're chaining down an injured man?"

Rubbing his wrist, Torn looked down at the unconscious boy. "I know what it looks like, Ashelin. But he's not Jak ... not right now."

She raised an eyebrow. "Explain. Now."

Samos stepped in. "Torn, why don't you make some coffee for everyone." He ushered Ashelin a few feet away while the Resistance leader rubbed his face and headed behind the bar. "Jak has been attacked by a new breed of Metal Head. It's some kind of dark eco poison, it resists all our attempts to treat the wound." He held up his burned hand as proof.

"I still don't see why this warrants locking him up like a prisoner. He's hurt, we should --"

A low, distorted growl shook the bar, growing in pitch into a furious howl. Ashelin turned and drew her gun, but lowered the barrel as she realized the noise was coming from Jak. His head tossed back and forth and his teeth were bared and clenched as he writhed and pulled against the restraints, the air around him crackling and sparking for several long seconds until he slumped down again. A hand on her shoulder made her jump and she whipped around.

"Do you see now?" Torn asked quietly, his eyes dark with concern.

Ashelin's mouth opened and closed a few times and she turned back to the table. "I've never seen ... I mean ..."

Torn handed her a cup of coffee, wrapping his hands around his own. "That's what your father's experiments did. What the dark eco did to him. He's unpredictable as it is, now who knows what he'd do if we didn't try to contain this."

"Onin says, de battle is just beginning," Pecker added, flapping over and perching on Torn's shoulder. "Onin says, there is little to be done until Daxter returns."

Frowning, Ashelin looked at the bird. "Daxter?"

"He's on his own mission, he may be Jak's last hope."

"Then Jak is probably doomed," Pecker sighed.

* * *

Coughing as the door to the transporter kicked up a cloud of dusty sand, Daxter shivered. "Wait, I thought this was the desert? Why's it so COLD?!"

Sig slung his weapon over his shoulder. "It gets real cold here at night, it's when the Marauders like to come out and play."

Daxter's eye twitched. "Marauders? I really don't like the sound of that."

"Outcasts from Haven City that were rejected by Damas as too dangerous. They don't play nice with the other kids."

Off in the distance, the sound of gunfire and revving engines echoed around the sculpted landscape and bright lights flashed against the horizon. Daxter gulped and climbed up onto Sig's free shoulder. "Yeah well ... l-let's get inside before they decide to come play!"

Holstering the Peace Maker, Sig trudged through the thick sand to the garage entrance, sealing the doors behind them. Dozens of off-road vehicles lined the walls, dented and scratched and loaded with weapons of dubious legality. Heading straight to the city entrance, Sig sighed contentedly. "Home sweet home."

Spargus City was a marked contrast from Haven City. Sculpted and molded almost entirely from sand and clay, it was illuminated by flame, not eco. Wastelanders of all shapes and sizes wandered the streets, the people cast out of Haven City by the Baron. Rugged and hardy, they all carried fierce weapons; there was no Krimzon Guard for protection here, the people policed themselves.

"You really think he can really help?" Daxter asked as he picked sand from between his toes.

"King Damas? I don't know. But he knows the desert better than anyone and there are plenty of artifacts out there." Looking up at the torches around the streets, Sig folded his arms. "At this time of night, he'll be at the arena."

Daxter shrank down. "The arena? THE arena? The place with all the fighting and lava and death?!"

Any newcomers to the Wastelands, if they were found before they perished, were brought to the arena and forced to show their worth in brutal gladiator matches. By Damas' decree, everything in Spargus was either useful or dead weight, and they had no room for dead weight.

Sig grinned. "Best place on earth."

"But death HURTS! It's all ... deadly!" Daxter whimpered, "Can't we just wait at the palace?"

"No time, chili pepper. We've only got nine more hours to find that light eco and bring it back to Haven City. We can't afford to hang around twiddling our thumbs."

"Jak ..." Daxter looked at the ground as he remembered his friend, then sat up and folded his arms. "Fine, but if he makes you fight, I am NOT sitting on your shoulder."

Stepping out to the warrior's entrance, Sig looked down at the enormous arena. Groups of Wastelanders battled one another to the screams and cheers of the crowd, scrambling to perch on platforms for safety as the siren warned them of rising lava. And there, high above the crowds, was Damas, the king and creator of Spargus City. A chiseled, muscular man with pure white dreadlocks and a piercing stare, he was simultaneously feared and respected amongst the citizens of his land. Once the ruler of Haven City, he had been betrayed by the Baron and cast out into the Wastelands at the peak of the Metal Head war, so he formed his own city in the harsh desert climate. Damas was a survivor, and he valued his warriors highly.

"Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down ..." Daxter covered his eyes as Sig crossed the floating platforms to the throne.

Clearing his throat, the warrior bowed his head and waited for acknowledgment.

"Ah, Sig, you have returned. What is the news from the city?" Damas' voice was scratched and hoarse from years of enduring sandstorms during the construction of Spargus City.

"Bad news, I'm afraid. It's ..." Sig looked down at the battle.

Picking up on his hesitation, Damas waved a hand and stood, beckoning for Sig to follow him into the royal enclosure. As his servants closed the curtains behind them, Damas sat on a plush chair and scooped a cup of water from a small fountain. "Let me guess ... it's about Jak."

Sig looked surprised, "How did you know?"

Damas smirked and gestured with his cup. "You're wearing his rat."

"WHO YOU CALLING A RAT?!" Daxter snapped indignantly before Sig could muzzle him with his hand.

Damas chuckled and swigged at the cool water, then offered some to his guests. "So tell me."

Sig handed the cup to Daxter and leaned forward, gesturing. "He got in over his head in a nest of Metal Heads. Got hurt bad, some kind of dark eco poison or something."

The king's gaze hardened. "That's too bad, he was shaping up to be a good warrior."

"That's not all," Sig continued. "You know he does that weird angry thing? With the horns and claws? The dark eco's reacting with it, the Haven City soothsayer thinks he won't be able to change back. And if he can't ..." He trailed off.

Damas stood and looked across at the arena, just barely visible through a crack in the curtains. "I've seen what that dark transformation was capable of. It would be the end of us all if he is not stopped."

Gasping for breath and wiping his mouth, Daxter sat back and belched. "So Sandy, you ever heard of light eco?"

Quirking an eyebrow, Damas tugged at one of his sideburns. "Light eco? My monks have told stories of such an element. I had thought it to be mere legend."

Daxter ears pricked up and he leaped to his feet. "Yeah yeah, light eco! It's real, I've seen it! But we need some to cure Jak."

The king frowned. "But the stories tell that only the great Mar was able to wield light eco's power."

Sig held out a hand. "Well maybe he could."

"The stories also tell that Mar could fly and freeze time." Damas shook his head. "I am afraid I do not have much hope for your quest."

Daxter's shoulders slumped.

"However," Damas continued. "Jak is one of my most promising warriors. It would be a shame to lose him to something so trivial as a Metal Head attack." Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a clay talisman and handed it to Sig. "Take this to the mountain temple on the other side of the desert. This royal seal should convince my monks to offer what they know. But be careful," he warned. "There is a sandstorm brewing and you don't want to get caught in it. The desert sands can strip the flesh from a man's bones in mere minutes."

Daxter scrambled back up to Sig's shoulder and peered at the symbol. "Sweet, a new doohickey!"

Damas stepped back over to the curtains. "Now, I must return to the games. You have my deepest sympathies."

Daxter waved a paw. "Ah don't you worry, Jak'll be fine."

"I was referring to Sig's vermin problem." With a smirk, Damas closed the curtains behind himself.

* * *

"Damn it."

Ashelin snapped the communicator shut and shoved it back into its holster. She'd been trying to raise Sig for over an hour, but there was no response. Jak was growing more restless, and Torn was tense and jumpy.

Leaning back against the table, she looked down at Jak, pale and unconscious. His shoulder had been bandaged tightly to stem the bleeding, but no attempts to heal it had worked.

"Ashelin, any word?" Torn wandered back from the bar with fresh coffee and handed her a cup.

She shook her head and sighed. "I can't raise a signal. The transporter crew called an hour ago and said there was a storm on the way, it must be interfering with communications."

"Well maybe we should --" Suddenly Torn's eyes widened and he darted forward. "GET DOWN!"

"Wh --"

Torn shoved her aside and drew his gun in less than a heartbeat, holding it right at Dark Jak's head as the demon snarled and snapped his jaws at the empty air where Ashelin's hand had been. His black eyes narrowed at Torn and he bayed in frustration, thrashing in the restraints and snarling at the man. Lips curling in a cruel sneer, he strained against the gun muzzle, pressing his forehead into it, daring him to shoot as Torn's finger began to squeeze the trigger.

"TORN, NO!" Ashelin pulled herself to her feet, holding up her hands. "You promised Daxter!"

"He's dangerous, Ashelin. He could have hurt you," Torn muttered coldly, glaring straight into the black, soulless eyes that silently mocked him.

"Onin, says to stand back!" Pecker squawked as the shaman finally lifted her head, clapping her hands together and blowing a fine, sparkling dust over the table.

Dark Jak sniffed at the powder and snarled, then moaned long and low as he began to contort and revert, his eyes rolling back and slipping shut before fluttering open again dazedly.

"Jak ...?" Ashelin asked hesitantly.

He blinked a few times. "Ashelin ...? What's ..." His eyes snapped open as he saw Torn's gun still pointed right in his face. "Torn, what the hell?!"

The leader of the Resistance said nothing for several seconds, then shoved the gun in its holster without a word.

Jak looked around in a panic, breathing fast. "What's happening? Why can't I move?" He tugged his wrists against the leather, grunting at the pain in his shoulder.

Ashelin took a step forward, but Torn stopped her from getting closer, his face stony. "It's just a precaution, Jak. You're dangerous."

"Precaution for what?! I --" Scrunching up his face he cried out in pain and pulled against the tethers, his eyes darkening again.

"He's feeding off your anger, Torn," Samos said firmly. "This is a difficult enough battle for him without you encouraging his dark side."

Ashelin closed her eyes for a few seconds, then took Torn's hand and led him to the exit as Jak howled and then went silent. "Come on, you need some air."

Her hand had barely touched the door when there was a splintering creak behind her. As the couple turned, they saw the table begin to tilt, the legs cracked and straining under the desperation of Jak's struggles.

Samos rubbed his temple. "Oh my, this is not good. These won't hold him for much longer."

Pecker perched on top of Onin's head and gripped the edge of the hat with his wings. "Onin says, she cannot contain his anger beyond this. He is losing the battle with himself."

Covering his face with his hands, Torn rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "Ashelin, we're going to need something much, much stronger to hold him."

"I'll see what I can do," she suggested, pulling out her communicator. She hesitated before the door and grabbed Torn's arm, squeezing it tightly and speaking quietly. "Remember. You made a promise to Daxter. If I find out that you broke that promise, you won't live long enough to regret it."

Torn twitched.

Her voice softened. "Take a break, get some fresh air. I'll be back soon."

As he watched her leave, Torn leaned in the doorway to the bar, looking out over the moonlit harbor. Pulling his gun from its holster, he rubbed his thumb over the barrel thoughtfully.

Chewing on a feather, Pecker leaned over to Samos from the back of the bar. "Dat was a close one. Are you sure we can trust him to wait?"

Samos shook his head and smiled slightly as he looked up from the Precursor text. "Despite what you may think, Torn and Jak are friends. They would never hurt each other intentionally, for all their posturing."

Pecker squawked and ruffled his feathers. "But what if he really shoots Jak next time?"

"He won't," Samos said assuredly, turning a page. "I saw him empty out the bullets earlier. He doesn't want to do this any more than we do."

Surprised, Pecker turned back in time to see Torn tuck the empty gun back into its holster and step outside.

* * *

Leaping down from Sig's shoulder, Daxter scampered into the Wasteland garage and rubbed his paws together. "Oh baby! Let's take THIS one!" he yelled as he pointed at the biggest, meanest, fiercest vehicle in the lineup.

"No can do, cherry. This is our ride." Sig patted the top of the spider-like Dune Hopper.

Daxter looked mortified. "I could snap that in half just by looking at it funny!"

Sig slid into the seat and started the ignition as the ottsel found a spot to crouch in. "True, she ain't much to look at. But you'll see why she's ours for today." Pulling on his goggles and tying a bandana over his mouth and nose, he started the ignition and tore out of the garage and into the night desert with a screech of burning rubber.

"Uh oh, we got company!" Daxter yelled over the noise of the engine, pointing at three Marauder vehicles approaching from the horizon.

"Right on time. Check this out." Flipping open a small plastic cover, Sig pressed a button that launched a high-speed missile out of the front of the car, hitting the Marauders head-on.

Daxter whooped and punched the air as they sped straight through the scattered remains and burning air. "Next time, I wanna press the shiny red button!"

"Get on it then, they don't give up easily." Sig jerked the wheel, sending them spinning through the sand and down a cactus-lined valley as two more cars tailed them.

"I don't mean to bust your bubble, Big Guy, but the missiles only fire from the FRONT END!" Daxter wailed.

Sig smirked. "Piece of cake." Spinning the wheel, he threw the buggy into reverse and looked over his shoulder, careening backwards down the valley.

Daxter's ears flapped around his goggles. "Gee thanks ... I think." Pressing the button, he launched two missiles and cheered as the pursuers exploded in a shower of metal shards. His glee was short-lived though, as the Dune Hopper burst free of the valley and found an entire hoard of Marauders waiting patiently for them on the other side.

"Shit ... hold onto your tail, Daxter." Slamming his foot down on the gas and spinning the wheel, Sig leaned to the side and tipped the lightweight vehicle onto two wheels, slipping between the oncoming cars, then thudding back down onto four wheels and accelerating towards the open ocean.

Daxter whimpered and clung to the seat for dear life. "Thank the Precursors I'm not wearing pants." Standing in his seat, he peered out the back. "Siiiiig, they're gaining on us!"

"Not for long." Following the torch-lit route, he slid the buggy towards the rock plateaus.

"Sig! SIG!"

He grunted, "WHAT."

Daxter pointed with a shaking finger. "THE BRIDGE IS OUT!" Sure enough, the bridge up ahead was half eaten away by years of ferocious sandstorms and thrashing waves.

Sig laughed, then pulled down a lever. "Hold on tight Dax, and I mean it this time."

"Why, what are you -- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

As Sig released the lever, the Dune Hopper launched into the air, its light frame giving it the flexibility to leap vast distances and heights. As they landed safely, Daxter watched in awe as several Marauders crashed over the edge of the bridge and the others braked, then reversed and headed back into the desert.

"And that, Daxter, is why we needed this vehicle."

Daxter sat down with wide eyes. "Remind me never to let you drive me anywhere EVER again."

Sig laughed as they sped up and around the rocky mountain trail, easily clearing gaps and craters in the desolate roadway until a series of dilapidated Precursor ruins came into view. Pulling up to the imposing temple, Sig whistled. "I guess if we're gonna find it anywhere, it'd be here."

Enormous orange archways leaned precariously against structural pillars, half-buried in the sands of the Wasteland. Every surface was carved with deep red, ancient runes only legible to those with the knowledge of the language of the ancients. Torches surrounded the entranceway, yellow flames licking the air and swirling in the wind of the oncoming storm, making the runes seem to dance and undulate through the shadows and light.

"Whatever it is you may be seeking, your petty desires shall not be tolerated in this place of worship."

Bounding out of the buggy, Daxter shook the sand out of his fur and scowled. "Listen bud, we don't have time to argue. We got an important mission, and we -- EEEESH!" Pulling up his goggles, he found himself face to face with a short, slender human. Her skin was pure white, painted with orange and yellow facial markings, offset with black and orange rubber robes and armor.

Sig grabbed Daxter by the scruff. "I apologize for the rat here, he's a little ... uncouth."

The mysterious figure didn't move.

"Ooookay ... look, we're here to see Damas' monks."

The girl twitched, then placed her hands together. "I am Seem, a monk of this holy temple. Now that you have seen me, I shall excuse myself. I have important work to do, and no time for your trivial requests."

"Trivial?!" Daxter shook himself free of Sig's grasp and marched up to the monk, jabbing a finger in the air. "Listen bub ... or babe, whatever you are. Damas sent us here for light eco, and we ain't leaving without it."

Seem narrowed her eyes in distrust. "If it was by King Damas' request that you found this place, you would have the royal seal to --" She stopped mid-sentence as Daxter dangled the seal from its leather cord. Clearing her throat, she nodded her head. "Of course. Follow me."

Leading them into the center of the ruins, Seem waved her hand over a burning torch. The flames flickered and flashed blue, then burned out completely. Reaching in, the monk pulled a lever and opened a hidden doorway that led deep into the temple's underbelly and a large room filled with ancient texts and relics.

Daxter whistled and rested his elbow against Sig's helmet. "Seem baby, you were holding out on us!"

The monk stiffened, then turned calmly. "You claim you are seeking light eco. How do you know it is not merely a legend?"

Daxter waved a paw. "Because, rubber butt, I've seen it with my own eyes. My buddy, he used it years ago to beat up a coupla bad guys in a jacked up Precursor robot."

"Sacrilege," she scoffed, waving a hand over a wall scroll decorated with painted images of a man with a glowing aura. "Only Mar the Great was able to wield light eco, no one else in history has succeeded, not even the Precursors themselves."

The ottsel grinned. "Oh, so you're saying it DOES exist."

Seem twitched, then closed her eyes. "Light eco is indeed an element of this world. However, it is useless to those who cannot manipulate its awesome power. It is useless to you."

"Look, does it matter whether we can use it or not?" Sig probed. "We have Damas' blessing to be here, he said you could help us save our friend. Hell, this won't just save one life, it might save hundreds, maybe even thousands."

Turning her back, the monk selected a text from a bookshelf. "This life ... is it worth saving?"

His fur bristling, Daxter leaped down from Sig's shoulder and waved a finger at Seem. "If anyone's worth saving, it's Jak! He beat the Metal Head leader and saved everyone a bunch of times! If that don't make him worth saving, I don't know what will."

The monk recoiled as if she had come face to face with Mar himself, the book slipping between her fingers and thudding to the floor in a cloud of dust. "The one touched by darkness ..."

"Who, Jak?" Daxter scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, some funky experiments they did on him back at the city, he does this thing where he --"

"I will not help you." Her voice was cold.

Sig raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden change in attitude?"

Seem crouched to pick up the text, brushing sand off it. "His heart is full of rage and hatred. I have felt his presence here for many years." She paused and said quietly. "It is my belief that such a cursed being would be better off put out of his misery."

Growling, Daxter launched himself at the monk. "Why you little --!"

Snatching him out of mid-air, Sig held the rampaging rodent in one hand. "Frankly, I don't give a shit about your beliefs." His voice was dark and threatening. "I am on a mission to find light eco, and I have less than eight hours left to do it in, so either you tell me right now where to find it or I trash this place looking for it myself, and you can answer to King Damas later."

Looking suitably flustered, Seem hesitated, then lay the text on the table, flipping through a number of pages before pointing at a diagram. "There is a labyrinth beneath the temple. This text speaks of a great oracle that resides in the center." She snapped the book shut and rested her palm against it. "The oracles are the last remaining vestiges of Precursor wisdom. If it feels your cause is just, it may grant you the gift of light eco." She picked up the book and placed it back on the shelf. "That is, if you can find it."

Sig shook his head in frustration. "We don't have time to go crawling around in some maze!"

Seem looked disinterested. "Take it or leave it, you asked for my guidance and that is all I can offer."

"Fine, we'll go into the stupid maze," Daxter grumbled.

Seem glared at the ottsel and clasped her hands together. "While I respect the wishes of my King, I shall not pray for your friend. His soul is lost, and he --"

"Yeah yeah, darkness and rage and blah blah blah. You already did that line, double-check your script," Daxter snapped as he padded back up the stairs, Sig following close behind. Bounding over to a large, ornately carved doorway, Daxter cocked his head. A robotic creature much like a bug-eyed anteater was etched into the design, glowing orbs of eco suspended in the air around it.

"I hate Precursor junk," he grumbled, pressing and pushing the door, shoving it with his shoulder and gnawing on it. After several minutes, he sat back in frustration. "There must be some kinda secret to opening the door! I can't get it to budge!"

"Like the handle?" Sig suggested in amusement, opening the door easily.

Daxter twitched his whiskers. "I knew that."

* * *

"Are you sure this'll hold him?" Torn eyed the chair uneasily. Comprised of thick sheets of steel bolted together to form arms and rests, it had solid eco-locks and electrified restraints. "Looks more like a torture device."

Ashelin screwed the last bolt into place and stepped back to admire her handiwork. "It's the best I could do on short notice. It was used on some of the most violent and dangerous prisoners of the KG during medical procedures, it should be able to hold him for a while at least."

Torn looked surprised. "I didn't know you worked in the prison units."

"I didn't. My father put Errol in charge of the violent criminal block, he is ... was cruel enough to really take pride in his work there." She wiped her hands on a rag and sighed. "My father hid a lot of what he did from me. I didn't want to believe the rumors of the dark eco experiments, I thought they were too inhumane even for him."

Pecker fluttered over and perched on the head of the chair. "Onin says, her spell will only hold him for one minute. You must be ready to move Jak when I give de command, SWKARK!"

They both turned to watch as the blind mystic waved her hands in an ancient ritual, her fingers dancing through a glowing cloud of eco. Her mouth worked silently, remembering the words to a spell she could no longer pronounce, a spell lost to all but the most practiced of eco-molders.

And illuminated by the warm light, Jak writhed and growled, panting and fighting, but not against the restraints, against himself. Sweat beaded his forehead and dripped onto the floor beneath him as his fingers dug at the tiles, his nails ragged and bloody.

Ashelin gazed at the glowing eco mass. "What is she doing?"

Pecker waved a wing with an elaborate flourish. "Onin says, Dark Jak lusts for power. He yearns for more and more eco and is drawn to her spell."

Torn nodded. "While his dark side is distracted by the eco, Jak can suppress it."

"Onin says it is almost time," Pecker advised as the orb began to grow and ripple.

Jak's growls and grunts began to sound more human and color bled back into his skin.

Spreading her arms wide, Onin expanded the eco bubble immensely and Jak immediately relaxed, breathing hard, his fingers twitching.

"NOW! SKWARK!"

Torn grabbed Jak and hauled him over to the chair, pinning him down as Ashelin slammed shut the first two eco locks.

As the ball of eco began to shrink, Jak twisted against the chair, throwing his head back and crying out in pain and frustration as the dark eco begins to pulse through him again.

Pecker flapped around their heads, chattering and fretting. "SKWARK! Onin says, de eco is fading! Hurry!"

"We're going as fast as we can," Ashelin snapped, bracing a boot against the edge of the chair as she tugged on a chain, snapping the locks in place. "HOLD HIS HEAD!"

Torn clenched his teeth and struggled to keep Jak's head still while Ashelin pulled the last strap in place, then sighed in relief as the orb shrank down to nothing and popped in a tiny shower of sparks.

Pecker fluttered around the contraption, then settled back on the exhausted soothsayer's hat. "Onin says, even this may not hold him for long."

"It doesn't have to," Torn said quietly. "Just for a few more hours."

Ashelin wiped her forehead and narrowed her eyes at Dark Jak, huffing and snarling as he strained against the contraption. Heavy bolts kept his ankles and wrists in place and reinforced chains wrapped around his waist and chest, all locked and supported by eco locks. And yet even this wouldn't be enough to hold him? Clenching her fists at her sides, she wished that she could see her father again, just for one second. Just so that she could kill him herself with her own two hands.

Torn placed a hand on her shoulder, "Ashelin, I --"

She slapped his hand away. "I need some air. Call me if he gets worse."

As she strode to the door, Torn called out after her. "You're not like him, Ashelin. Even if you'd known, there's nothing you could have done to stop those experiments."

She stood silently in the doorway for a moment. "I knew. Deep inside, I knew what he was doing. But for a while ... I wondered if there really was any other way to destroy the Metal Heads." She shook her head and closed the door behind her as Jak finally stilled.

* * *

Sig sighed and placed a hand against the wall. "Another dead end."

"I told you we should have gone left!" Daxter griped, folding his arms.

"I told you we should have split up!"

Daxter touched his fingers together. "But what if there are Metal Heads down here?"

"I'm sure they wouldn't be interested in eating your mangy hide, fuzzball," Sig retorted, backing up and turning a corner.

Daxter scowled and rapped on Sig's helmet. "Hey! Watch it or I'll sic Jak on ..." He trailed off and went quiet.

"Don't sweat it, Dax. We'll find that eco," Sig reassured him, then changed the subject to distract him. "So you've seen it before, right? What's it look like?"

"Light eco? Hmm." He patted his chin thoughtfully. "Kinda like ... the opposite of dark eco."

"Well that's helpful," Sig quipped dryly.

Daxter threw his arms in the air in frustration. "Gimme a break! I'm tired, my fur itches from all this sand, and your shoulder ain't as comfortable as it looks!" He poked the sharp spikes on the edges of Sig's shoulder armor for emphasis. "It feels like we've been down in this maze for days. At this rate we won't even be able to find the way out again!" He folded his arms. "At least they could have left us a map, but nooooooo, we have to do it the hard way!"

Sig paused, then grinned. "Daxter, you're a genius!"

He blinked. "I am?"

The wastelander gestured to the walls. "The walls here don't stay flush to the ceiling. I bet you can climb up and tell me which way to go. You could be my map."

Daxter's ears flipped up. "Of course! I really am a genius!" Drawing back, he leaped off of Sig's shoulder and latched onto the wall, scrabbling to climb up. But despite the etchings and carvings, the walls were polished and smooth and impossible to grip, and he slid down to the floor. Sitting back and folding his arms, he glared at the wall. "Sig, that was a terrible idea."

"Guess they saw that one coming." Sig checked his watch. "And we only have three more hours to find that oracle, get out and get back to the city." He moved forward and headed around a corner.

"Three hours?! Can't you call Ashelin on that communicator thing and tell her to wait?!"

"I've been trying, the storm must be blocking the transmission." He stopped, then turned, not looking directly at Daxter. "Look, Dax ... Maybe we should start thinking about heading back. If we leave now, we might make it in time to say goo --"

"I am not giving up!" Daxter yelled, stomping his feet. "You think Jak would give up if it was you on the chopping block?"

Sig stayed silent.

Growling, Daxter turned and kicked the wall hard, then yelped and grabbed his foot, hopping up and down. Dust and stone fragments rained down on him and he scowled, brushing his fur off.

Sig's eyes lit up. "Dax, do that again!"

"Hell no!" he pouted, rubbing his throbbing toes.

Touching the wall gently, Sig pushed and heard a soft crack. "This wall ... it's weak." Stepping back, he pulled the Peace Maker from its holster and hefted it onto his shoulder, flipping the charge switch. "Stand back, Dax."

"Huh?" The ottsel looked up and squealed at the glowing barrel of the fearsome weapon, scrabbling to get behind Sig's legs, huddling down and shoving his fingers in his ears.

Sig squinted down the barrel and aimed at the faint spider-web crack on the wall. At the telltale whine of a fully charged round, he pulled the trigger, launching an explosive shell straight ahead. The explosion was deafening, and when he opened his eyes again, the wall was little more than dust and rubble.

Coughing and waving a paw in front of his face, Daxter winced. "Let's uh ... not tell the monks about this."

Sig holstered the weapon and grimaced. "For once, I agree with you."

Stepping through the "newly discovered" passageway, Daxter peered through the dust-laden air. "There's something up ahead!" he called over his shoulder, pointing at two blue glowing orbs high in the air just ahead of them.

Greetings, warriors. Your skills and ingenuity have led you to this sanctum of holiness.

A deep voice echoed through the labyrinth and as the dust cleared, Daxter found himself face to belly with a Precursor oracle. A statue, hundreds of feet tall, with piercingly bright blue eyes and a long proboscis-like nose, the same design as was carved into the door. It held its hands in the air, as if supporting the very foundations of the world.

"That's ... the oracle?" Sig asked in amazement.

"One of many. Jak an' I've seen ton of these things," the ottsel waved.

We sense the trials you have faced on your journey, blessed one. As you have been honored with --

Stamping his foot, Daxter waved his arms. "Hey, I don't mean to disrespect the elders or whatever, but we're kinda in a rush here!"

Sig covered his face with his hand.

Your impatience displeases us, young one. You have much to learn before --

"Enough yapping! We need -- mmmph!"

Sig grabbed the ottsel and covered his mouth. "What he meant to say was, a friend of ours is in a bad way. We were told that light eco was the only thing that could save him."

Ah yes, the dark hero. We have followed his journey for some time now, and his struggle with his destiny shall continue for many years to come. The savior of another time, and the vanquisher of the evil that threatened our world. A new evil has arisen, and once again he must ...

"They really do go on and on, don't they?" Sig whispered out of the side of his mouth as Daxter climbed onto his shoulder.

... in order for the prophesy to be fulfilled. Even now the destroyers approach and they ...

Daxter whispered back, "See, it's better to shut them up before they get started."

... into the wrong hands.

Waiting to make sure the oracle had finished, Daxter spoke up as he examined his claws. "So since you know so much, I guess you already know what we're here for, huh?"

A gentle ray of pure white light beamed down from the ceiling, and a crystal began to form at its center.

Yes. This light eco crystal is your reward for the courage you have shown.

"Alright, this'll do the trick!" Sig reached into the beam and pulled out the fist-sized translucent crystal, turning it over in his hand. An opalescent white, it was smooth and polished and glowed with a bright blue hue.

Know that light eco alone is not enough to vanquish the darkness in your friend's heart.

Daxter's face fell. "Whadaya mean? How do we get rid of all that icky dark eco they pumped into him?"

The dark eco cannot be purged. It must be controlled and embraced for the power it lends. A true hero is touched with the balance of darkness and light, then he shall become all powerful.

Sig tapped his chin. "So ... this won't get rid of the dark eco, it'll just subdue it?"

Precisely. That crystal shall provide the clarity the dark one needs to continue his training. The acquisition and cultivation of those skills is his responsibility henceforth.

"Clarity. Clarity is good. Clarity usually doesn't involve maiming things," Daxter nodded. "Well, thanks oracle guy thing! We can take it from here."

Sig turned, then frowned. "But which way is out?"

Allow me to provide a path for you.

The room began to rumble, and slowly the labyrinth walls descended into the floor until they were left standing in the middle of an enormous cavern with the exit not more than a few steps away.

Daxter's jaw dropped. "You mean ... the oracle was RIGHT HERE?" He smacked the back of Sig's helmet. "I told you we shoulda taken that first left!"

Sig grunted as he headed back up the steps to the temple. "One more outburst like that and I'll leave you down there with Mr. Talkalot."

Sticking his tongue out, Daxter snatched the crystal from the wastelander and held it up to the dim light. "Looks just like the stuff Jak used before, only all solid-like."

"So Jak really used light eco?"

"Haven't I told you this story yet?" Daxter grinned elatedly, then settled down on his shoulder, holding his hands up to set the scene. "So there I was, trapped on top of the dark eco silo, facing down against a mighty Precursor robot piloted by two of the nastiest, evilest people you could ever have the displeasure of meeting! Gol and Maia, they were giants, at least twenty feet tall! Anyway, the robot drew back and charged up his laser, and I --"

"I will never learn," mumbled Sig under his breath, quickening his pace up the spiral staircase.

* * *

Sitting at a quiet part of the east dock, Ashelin could almost ignore the distant gunfire from the city entrance. They'd managed to protect the harbor thus far, providing them with an access point to vital parts of the local landscape. But that was in no small part thanks to Jak. If they lost him now, there was no doubt that Haven City would fall. Whether to the Krimzon Guard or the Metal Heads, or the rumored threat of the Dark Makers, interplanetary wielders of dark eco, the sworn enemies of the Precursors.

Leaning back against the wall, she watched the clouds drift slowly across the morning sky. How much was she to blame for Jak's condition? She didn't sign the Dark Warrior experiment documentation or inject the dark eco into him directly, but she had heard what was going on and chose simply to turn a blind eye. It made no difference that she hadn't known Jak then, she could have saved countless poor souls from dying at the hands of her father and that maniac, Errol.

"There is no use blaming yourself, my dear."

Her head jerked up at the familiar voice. "Samos?"

The old Sage's wooden shoes clattered on the cobblestones as he approached. "Torn said I might find you here. He said you were troubled over your father's experiments."

Ashelin looked at the ground. "I feel responsible for what's happening to Jak, how he --"

"Jak is his own person, he makes his own decisions. The experiments were out of his control, but his future is not." He reached out and handed her a worn old book, open at a set page. "This is an ancient text I had Jak rescue for me from the catacombs."

She frowned as she studied the pages. The language was archaic and cumbersome, but it was the illustrations that caught her attention. A series of sketches of a white figure with horns and claws and a fierce grin, surrounded by a deep purple glow. "Jak? But how ...?"

"No. That is Mar." He pointed to the text beneath the image. "Mar gained the ability to harness the power of dark eco, something an old friend of mine attempted and failed to do. As brutal as they were, those experiments of your father may have gifted Jak with the same talent that the Great Mar once had." He closed the book and tucked it under his arm. "While I cannot condone the Baron's actions, perhaps his efforts were not as irrational as we originally believed them to be."

Ashelin folded her arms. "I'm not sure Jak would agree with that."

The Sage's lips quirked into a smile. "Jak makes a hobby of disagreeing with me, I doubt that would change now."

She couldn't help smiling in response, but her reply was cut off as the air around them was whipped up, a huge blue transporter slowly descending to the dock. "The transport!"

"The eco!" Samos cried. "Thank the Precursors!"

As the transport engines shut down, Ashelin swiped her security pass and pulled open the back door. "Sig, Daxter, did you ..."

The transport was empty.

Running around to the driver seat, she wrenched open the door and barked angrily at the driver, "Where the hell are the passengers?!"

The driver shrank back and stuttered, "T-the sandstorm, it was too strong. We had to leave when we did or we'd have been delayed for days."

"But you were supposed to pick up two of my officers!"

The driver's assistant spoke up, "We didn't see anybody for hours, we assumed they decided to weather out the storm in Spargu --"

Slamming the door shut again, Ashelin kicked it for good measure, then turned to Samos. "That was the last transport!"

"Can't you send them back?" Samos asked in concern.

"Even if I do," she sighed, "they wouldn't be back in time for the deadline." Ashelin shook her head in determination. "We can't tell Torn. Not yet. Not until we have no other choice. Jak ... he might pull through on his own. We can't give up."

"No, no. Of course not." Samos patted her arm and reassured her, but his eyes had lost the glint of hope he'd been clinging to since Sig and Daxter had left.

* * *

The rough scraping of stone against sand rumbled through the temple as Daxter burst through the door. "We gotta hurry!"

Standing amidst a group of other monks, Seem chanted and prayed in a haunting drone that sounded like a funeral dirge. Her eyes opened and glared down at the ottsel with a mixture of surprise and contempt. "I see you survived the labyrinth."

Floofing his chest fur, Daxter flexed his arms. "Piece o' cake! Aaaand, we got the eco!" He held up the crystal as the monks gasped and muttered.

Even Seem's passive expression reflected her awe. "Light eco ..." Snapping shut her gaping jaw, she closed her eyes. "If the oracle has permitted your friend's survival, then there is little more I can say."

Panting, Sig leaned against the doorway. "Daxter, no time for chitchat, we have less than three hours to get back to Haven City."

Seem shook her head and placed her hands together. "It is not possible. The wasteland is vast and the sands dance today. Even the leaper lizards would not brave a storm like this one." Her arm arced in a sweeping gesture to the temple entrance where fierce shards of sand whipped against the pillars and sliced at the stone.

Daxter's arms trembled around the crystal, then he steeled himself and stood tall. "I ain't afraid of no little sandstorm."

"You should be," Sig warned. "Even Damas won't go out in a storm like that."

He twitched, then took a step towards the gate. "But ... we gotta get back to Jak."

Sig watched him taking tentative steps to the entrance and sighed, rolling his eyes and picking the ottsel up, dropping him on his shoulder. "Alright then, let's do this thing."

Seem looked at them both curiously. "You would go through a sandstorm just to save that dark creature?"

"HEY! That "dark creature" happens to be my best friend, Coloring Book!" Daxter snapped as he jabbed his own chest with his thumb. "If I can't save him ..." He steeled himself. "Then I'll die trying."

Sig managed a sideways smile. Annoying, loud, brash, rude, selfish and egotistical as the rat was, he would go to the ends of the earth for Jak.

Seem clasped her hands and deliberated, then opened her eyes and looked at the corner of the room where a large stone slab met the wall . "There is a storm drain that leads to the sewers. When the summer rains come, they flood the temple and the water is flushed through the aqua ducts and into the Haven City harbor. You will be safe from the storm there."

Raising an eyebrow, Sig eyed him suspiciously. "That's it? You're helping us now? No catch?"

Seem turned her back. "If one life is lost, it is a tragedy, dark abomination or not. I cannot in good conscience allow three lives to end today." She waved a hand and the rest of the monks retreated inside the temple. "I shall pray for you both."

Daxter grinned toothily. "That old monk ain't so bad."

Lumbering over to the access point, Sig heaved aside the huge stone and recoiled at the stench.

Daxter peered over his shoulder and pulled back, retching. "Oh you've GOTTA be shittin' me!"

Sig smirked and opened his mouth.

"DON'T. I know what you're thinking, they're ALL thinking it. Don't even bother. It's not big and it's not clever."

Rolling his eyes, Sig took and deep breath and grabbed a hold of the rope ladder, climbing down into the drainage pipe. Jumping off the last hundred feet, he landed solidly with a splash of murky water.

"HEY, WATCH THE MERCHANDISE!" Daxter snapped.

"Did the crystal get cracked?" Sig asked worriedly.

Daxter scowled. "I wasn't talking about the crystal," he grumbled, wiping off his fur with a grimace.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sig shook his head and moved forward, trudging through the thick waste. "We don't have time to dawdle, Daxter."

"Trust me, you don't wanna rush yer footing down here. It gets really slipp --"

"SHIT!" As Sig's boot slid on the slick pipe, he grabbed the wall to steady himself.

There was a loud sploosh and a thunk, and then deadly silence.

"Was that ...?"

"... yeah."

Daxter's hands held empty air.

Sig sighed. "Alright, go get it."

"Are you CRAZY?" Daxter yelled as he looked down at the thigh-high sewage. "You go get it!"

"No. You dropped it, you go get it."

"Now listen here tough guy, you --"

There was another, significantly softer sploosh.

"I said, you go get it."

* * *

Everything bristled with a kind of sharp, static pain, a stabbing, frantic, desperate clawing that ran through his head and spiked through every cell in his body. He'd felt this before, this burning heat and unbridled rage. It swelled and undulated like a fiery current, shattering into sparks of dark eco as the waves crested against his insides.

His senses were numb and useless, and yet simultaneously honed and precise. The pain was agonizing and invigorating at the same time, a welcome distraction from the endless surge of pure rage that licked and crooned at the edge of his consciousness, cajoling and whispering promises of power and fulfillment, strength and satisfaction.

No ... something made him pull away from that temptation, struggle to wade through the sticky fog and blinding darkness. There was light, just a little ... throbbing and glowing, tenaciously weathering the storm. Thick tendrils of darkness stretched out to overwhelm it, repelled by its warmth and strength. But every new caress left it a little smaller, a little less bright. Somehow ... he knew it was only a matter of time before the light vanished completely.

Reaching to it, he struggled and gathered his last fragments of sanity to push back the darkness, just for a moment. The voices around him grew clearer and louder, familiar voices. The burning was agonizing, but he waded through the darkness and stretched as far as he could.

Panting and drenched in sweat, Jak cracked his eyes open with immense effort. He blinked rapidly and shook his head sluggishly, but focusing was asking a little too much right now. There were ... lights. Bright lights, the smell of tinctures and medical supplies, the hum of eco locks. A bustle of sounds and excited voices, the sting of someone patting his cheek.

Red. Red uniforms ... silhouettes standing over him, arguing in sharp voices.

"... ark eco ..... more ............."

"... experiment ............. is a le ........ g ... dangerous ..."

"... ot ... prisoner .............. too angr ......"

"......................... et ..."

His head lolled to the side as he struggled to keep his eyes open, tugging his arms weakly and finding them bound. The chair. Bound. Eco locks. Dark eco. Experiments. Red. Krimzon Guard.

The Baron.

He heard the scream before it had even left his throat, hoarse and desperate, frightened and panicked. The voices were there again, louder and more frantic. He pulled and thrashed, squirming and writhing. His only remaining memory being one of torture and pain, dark eco and agonizing rage. The pressure of another body against his chest, someone trying to prevent him from escaping, hot breath in his ear, soothing tones and calming words, manipulative lies.

Errol?

He fell back against the chair, but through it, through his consciousness. The darkness burst free like an erupting volcano and it felt SO good to just let go. Exhilarating to hear the screams and taste the rich silk of blood on his tongue. Not enough ... NOT ENOUGH!

Tossing his head, he roared in frustration, or at least he thought he did. As the darkness pitched and surged, he felt the tendrils drag him down. The sparks of his consciousness drowned in the abyss and, exhausted, he welcomed the strength of the darkness.

"Torn! Careful, stay still."

Blood dripped onto the floor as Ashelin held his hand gently, checking the bite mark. "It's deep."

He snatched his hand back and grunted. "It's fine." Picking a bandage out of the open medical kit, he wrapped it tightly around his hand as Dark Jak snarled and strained against his bindings, his teeth bloody and bared. "I shouldn't have gotten so close."

"He was there ... I could see it in his eyes. He's still in there," Ashelin said softly as she leaned back against the pool table. Though his skin had paled almost completely to pure white and his teeth were inhumanly sharp, for just a moment Jak's eyes had been wide, blue and frightened.

Tying off the bandage with his teeth, Torn flexed his fingers, then rubbed his temple.

Clearing his throat, Pecker hopped onto Torn's shoulder. "Onin says, Jak's light side is losing de battle."

"We wait one more hour. If the transporter isn't back by then, I'll have to take action," he commanded gruffly.

Ashelin turned her head away, closing her eyes.

* * *

The only sound in the dank sewer drain was that of Sig's boots sloshing through the waste. Daxter crouched on his shoulder, fur matted and discolored, light eco crystal clutched tightly in his arms, death in his eyes.

"Sig ... I hate you."

The wastelander bit his lip, hard, a snort of laughter escaping.

"I really, really hate you." Daxter paused, then smacked the side of Sig's head. "HEY, are you listening to me!?"

"I'm listening, Dax."

The ottsel grumbled and scratched at his fur. "Jak never dropped me in the water."

Sig coughed, lips twitching in amusment. "You know, it's not just --"

"I KNOW."

More silence, and more splashing.

"Can't you go any faster?"

Sig grunted. "First you want me to slow down, now you want me to speed up. Make up your damned mind."

Daxter bared his teeth and sulked. "I WANT you to not DROP me!"

Sig snapped back. "And I want YOU to not drop the crystal!"

Settling back down into grumpy silence, Daxter picked at his fur as Sig waded through the thick sewage until they reached a downward slope, water sluicing and gushing eagerly down into the darkness.

Daxter clung to the eco crystal a little tighter. "Now what?"

Tapping his chin, Sig looked around, then spotted a rusty walkway with a handrail running a few feet above the water. "We can climb on there and walk down."

Daxter eyed the walkway warily. "It don't look too stable to me."

"Relax, it's fine." Sig reached out and grabbed the handrail, pulling on it. "See?"

Time slowed down as they both heard the creak of rusted metal crumbling and the snap of support bolts flinging themselves to freedom.

Arms flailing to catch something to steady himself, Sig grabbed onto the walkway and hung on, his boots sliding and slipping in the rushing water to find a foothold. It groaned and shuddered, dropping a few inches, and then collapsing completely.

Falling back, Daxter threw his head back and howled as they plummeted down the incline.

"JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!"

* * *

JAK AND DAXTER :: Eclipsed (1/3)

2008-04-10T02:36:02Z

I consider this to be a very rough first draft of my first Jak and Daxter fanfic. It's written in a style that I hope makes it accessible to people who've never played the games and were previously unfamiliar with the characters (and for those who have played the games, it's set somewhere in between Jak II and 3, shortly after Jak gets back into Haven City).

It definitely needs work and neatening up, but I'm pretty happy with it as a first draft. It's already converted two of my friends into fans, so hopefully that says something about it.

manawolf drew some artwork for it as it was being written, so I've included the pictures at the particular plot points. If anything's unclear, let me know so I can fix it.

No real warnings, there's no slash or anything NSFW in there, just a little angst and tension and a lot of bad jokes from Daxter.

* * *

ECLIPSED
By Otana

Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belong to Naughty Dog and SCEA, I claim no rights to the characters or games in this fan work and am making no money from it.

* * *

"The story began in the past, or was it the future? The Precursors, ancient beings with immense power and technological knowledge, ruled the lands and prospered. Yet one day, they vanished without a trace, leaving nothing more than shattered remnants of their existence. Hundreds of years later, the great hero Mar discovered the dilapidated artifacts and dedicated his life to bringing peace to the world and once again making use of the ancient technology for the benefit of the people."

Daxter wrinkled his nose. "Geez, this guy was a lousy storyteller!" He held the book delicately between two fuzzy fingers, as if it were something they'd fished out of the sewer. "This stinks worse than a yakow's back end!"

Jak pointed at the worn text. "Well, it's important to Samos, so don't drop it."

"Yeah yeah." Daxter turned the pages, reading through the story of their ancestors.

Sliding the morph gun into the holster on his back, Jak scratched his forearm idly. It was hard to believe that just three years ago, he'd been a shy, playful boy living in the peaceful beachside village of Sandover village. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he and Daxter hadn't disobeyed the village sage Samos' orders to stay away from Misty Island. Daxter wouldn't have fallen into the pool of dark eco and been transformed into an ottsel for one. But maybe they would never have discovered Jak's talents in manipulating the various kinds of eco, or his remarkable ability to use precursor artifacts. More importantly, they would not have overheard Gol and Maia's plans to use dark eco in order to take over the world, and would never have set into motion the events that led to today.

After defending their home, Jak and Daxter, along with the green sage Samos, discovered a large precursor artifact and were able to power it up. However, it was a portal into a future they themselves had helped to create, and they were hurled into the filthy, rundown, hopeless slum that is Haven City. A depressing place caught in the middle of a war, the city was policed by the brutal Krimzon Guard who immediately dragged Jak away and utilized him in torturous experiments involving dark eco. For two years he was injected with enormous quantities of it in order to create an ultimate warrior, but Daxter helped him escape before he was given a lethal dose.

Shaking his head, Jak hardened his gaze as he revved the engine of the zoomer bike and accelerated towards the harbor, zipping through the traffic and gunfire with ease, ignoring the screams of pain and the howls of unholy creatures. Sometimes he longed for the peace and quiet of Sandover village. Not that he didn't enjoy his time in Haven City; there was, after all, something to be said for big guns, loud explosions, fast cars and sexy women. But the dark eco he'd been exposed to ... it had changed him. He wasn't the innocent, gentle boy he used to be. He was angry, constantly suppressing a dark, primal rage that bubbled inside of him and spilled out on the battlefield. When he couldn't control that anger any longer, he would ... change.

"Dark Jak", they called it. Like naming it made it less frightening. But it frightened him probably more than anyone. Every time he changed, it became a little harder to remember himself. Images of blood and dismemberment, the most violent urges and the desire to destroy everything around him controlled his every movement. Though the transformation wore off, each time it took a little longer to come around, and he was always afraid of what he would see when he awoke.

"Hey Jak buddy, you don't look so good ... you okay?"

"Huh?" Jak shook his head slightly, then waved off the question. "Yeah, just thinking."

Daxter cocked an ear from his vantage point on Jak's shoulder. He'd been best friends with the boy since he could remember, back when he was still human too. Jak had been mute back then, silent and coy. Not that he couldn't make noise, just like he chose not to. For the boisterous and loud Daxter, it was a perfect match. They were always disobeying warnings and orders, playing and getting into trouble, and that's what had happened on Misty Island. The dark eco should have killed Daxter, but for some reason it didn't. He was reborn as a short, furry, orange weasel with no idea how to change back. They made a good team though, he and Jak. Sticking together through thick and thin ... though it was mostly thin these days. He knew Jak had been to hell and back in those experiments, but it was impossible to get him to talk about it. He just brooded and moped until Daxter could figure out how to cheer him up. Usually by finding something they could blow up or destroy.

"Well don't think too hard or you might hurt yerself," he quipped, standing up on his hind legs and leaning his elbow on the top of Jak's head.

"Hmph." Jak grunted in response as they pulled up to The Naughty Ottsel, the temporary headquarters of the Resistance. What they were resisting changed from month to month as old enemies fell and new ones rose from the ashes. Right now, it was as if the whole world was against them; the revived Krimzon Guard, Metal Head beasts and some impending interplanetary doom or some shit. Jak didn’t like to get bogged down with details, as long as he knew where to point his gun.

Swinging open the doors, Jak sauntered in as Daxter leaped off his shoulder and scampered to the bar. The place was deserted, as usual. Who wanted to drink and party when you had to brave gunfire and bloodthirsty creatures just to get to the bar?

Well, other than Jak.

"Jak, long time no see." A deep voice rumbled in the darkness of a booth.

Jak turned and smiled as he saw a familiar face. "Sig, what are you doing here?"

He saluted him with two fingers. "Damas sent me to see how bad things were here in the city."

Sig was a wastelander, a warrior cast out from the city and exiled into the harsh desert. Physically imposing, he was loyal and dependable and had helped Jak and Daxter on many previous occasions, and not just when it benefited him.

When they had first arrived in Haven City, it was under siege from Metal Head hordes. Beast-like creatures protected by organic armor and a hunger for death. Cloaked in black, they were adorned with a glowing golden gem on their foreheads, hence their nickname. While they only possessed limited intelligence, their numbers were incalculable and they grew stronger and smarter every day. Needing eco to survive, they had made a deal with Baron Praxis, the ruler of the city; while he provided them with a constant supply of eco, they would attack the city just enough to ensure his continued rule. Of course, this uneasy bargain could not last for long, and as the only human with the power to use dark eco, Jak found himself saddled with the unenviable task of destroying the Metal Head leader.

However, there was no well-earned happy ending. Jak’s awesome power frightened the people, and he was cast into the desert as a fugitive, barely surviving long enough to be rescued by King Damas and his wastelander subjects. Proving his worth, he gained their respect; as a group of misfits, his power was seen as an asset rather than a liability. Finding his way back into Haven City, Jak begrudgingly agreed to help the Resistance again, though not a day passed when he didn’t question why he should help to protect the very city that left him for dead.

Unclipping his holster, Jak set his weapon down on the table as he slid into the booth. "It’s bad," he grunted. "Somethin’s got the KG spooked, they’re stepping up patrols around Haven Forest."

Sig raised an eyebrow. "The Krimzon Guard? I thought they died out with the Baron."

Jak snorted in response as Daxter carried a precariously loaded tray over to the table, then scampered up to a seat. "Seems like someone’s carrying on where the good Baron left off."

"You think Ashelin might be ...?"

Taking a long thirsty gulp from his cup, Jak shook his head. "No, Ashelin’s okay. She‘s on our side."

Despite being the daughter of Baron Praxis and a key member of the Krimzon Guard, Ashelin was a valued spy for the Resistance. When her father died and the Metal Head leader had been destroyed, she had inherited the unpleasant role of Haven City’s new ruler. She had also slipped Jak a beacon before he was cast out of the city, alerting the wastelanders to his whereabouts before he perished in the desert heat.

"I don’t trust her," Sig said plainly, folding his arms.

"Yeah well, she probably doesn’t trust you either," Jak suggested as he refilled his cup.

Sig chuckled and held his own cup out for a refill.

"What I don’t get," Daxter interrupted, holding up the Precursor text. "Is where all the Precursors went. I mean, if they were so great, how come they DIED?!"

"Beats me. They sound like a bunch of pretentious jerks," Jak grunted disinterestedly.

Puffing his cheeks out in annoyance, Daxter put his hands on his hips, then smirked cheekily. "Oh yeah? Well you’d know all about jerking, wouldn’t you. Huh? Huh?" He pointed a furry, clawed finger down towards Jak’s lap as his friend blushed and scowled, then gave him a sharp smack around the back of the head.

Sig threw his head back and laughed heartily, "Dax, give him a break."

"Yeah yeah yeah," Daxter mumbled as he went back to the book while Jak scratched his nose self-consciously, muttering something about an ottsel-fur coat.

It was several hours before they were joined by anyone else, by which time Daxter had read aloud more than a third of the book, made twenty-two lewd jokes at Jak’s expense, and been smacked around the back of the head by Jak twenty-three times.

Torn brushed the dust and rubble from his shoulders as he headed inside The Naughty Ottsel, looking less than pleased. "I thought I might find you here, Jak."

"He sounds pissed," Sig said quietly.

"He sounds constipated," Daxter suggested.

Jak rolled his eyes. "Doesn’t he always?"

Torn was the leader of the Resistance, Ashelin’s lover and a respected figure to the people. The dark tattoos on his face and ears betrayed his previous employment as a Krimzon Guard, but his time in the force had taught him exactly where its weaknesses lay, something vital to the Resistance if they were to succeed. Distrusting and cautious, he disliked Jak and Daxter the moment he met them, though they had formed a grudging alliance after the defeat of the Baron.

But right now, he was pissed.

Slamming his hand down on the table, he glared at Jak. "What the hell did you do out there?!"

Jak looked up from his cup and shrugged. "Our mission."

Torn hissed through his teeth and pointed at the book. "Your mission was to recover the text, not start a fire in the catacombs!"

Jak narrowed his eyes. “No one told me that the catacombs were overrun with Metal Heads."

Daxter waved his hand, "Yeah, big ones too, with nasty teeth!" He curled his fingers to mimic giant fangs.

Jak grunted at the interruption. "I did what I had to to escape with the book."

"I don’t care if you had to fight the entire Krimzon Guard army down there, those catacombs are full of important relics and we can’t afford to lose them to your reckless methods!"

Slamming his cup down, Jak stood and stepped forward, puffing up his chest, just inches away from Torn. "Well if you don’t like the way I work, why don’t you go down there yourself next time!" His hands balled into fists by his sides and his arms shook with rage.

"Uh ... Jak?" Daxter called out hesitantly, his ears flattening to his head. "Take it easy there, buddy ..."

Torn glared right back at him, then looked down at the table and the spilled cup. "Jak, you’re drunk. Go home and we’ll talk about this tomorrow." As angry as he was, he knew better than anyone just how suicidal it would be to piss Jak off when he was backed into a corner.

Wisely silent until now, Sig took his cue and stood up. "I should head back to Spargus. C’mon Jak, I’ll give you a ride --"

"FORGET IT." Jak snarled, his eyes darkening briefly, just enough to make Torn take a step back. "I’ll make my own way home." He jabbed a finger in Torn’s chest. "Just don’t come crying to me next time you need a hero."

The Resistance leader didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the door slammed behind the unpredictable man. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sometimes I wonder if he’s our best hope, or our worst liability."

Placing a large hand on his shoulder, Sig shrugged. "He‘s just a kid, cut him some slack. He‘s been through a lot." Turning, he looked expectantly at Daxter.

The ottsel winced, then grumbled. "Fine fine, I’ll do damage control. Just remember to say a few words at my funeral." Hopping down off the table he skittered across the floor, bursting outside just as Jak was fumbling with the keys to the zoomer. Leaping onto the back, he climbed up on Jak’s shoulder.

He growled over his shoulder, "Leave me alone, Dax."

"Whew," Daxter wrinkled his nose and pulled a face. "You sure you should be driving that thing?" He recoiled at the dangerous look. "Okay okay, point taken, I like my head still attached to my shoulders, thank you very much."

The engine revved with a dull roar and they accelerated around the harbor and through the city, scraping walls and bouncing off Krimzon Guard bots, though Daxter sanely decided to keep his eyes shut until the zoomer began to splutter and slow down, skidding to a halt on the war torn asphalt.

"Great!" Jak slammed his fist down and sighed. "Out of gas."

Cracking his eyes open, Daxter perked up and looked around. "Well now what? We can’t make it back to Spargus City without a zoomer. We’ll be roasted in the desert before we get to the palace!"

Climbing off the zoomer, Jak folded his arms and said nothing. Knowing better than to speak up, Daxter scratched behind his ear and muttered under his breath about fleas. After a few minutes, Jak sighed and shrugged. "Maybe there’s another vehicle around."

Daxter balked. "In THIS part of the city?! Are you nuts?! There ain’t nothing here but KG patrol bots and a forest fulla Metal Heads!"

A slightly predatory grin spread across Jak’s face.

"Uh ... Jak? I don’t like that look. Jak? Jak?!"

He threw a devious, sideways glance at his friend. "Let’s go bag us some Metal Heads. I feel like blowing stuff up."

Daxter covered his face with his paw. "Somehow, I knew you were gonna say that."

Holding onto the zoomer with both hands, Jak pulled it back, then hurled it across the market square, smirking as it exploded in a ball of flames. Just as planned, the KG bots guarding the hatch to Haven Forest stomped over to check out the distraction while he and Daxter slipped past them.

Deceptively calm, the forest used to be a peaceful place, back before they were hurled into the future. Now the Precursor ruins were overgrown, dark eco infected-vines strangled the life out of more innocent shrubs, and Metal Heads skulked between the trees. Now in the twilight, it hummed with the glow of golden skull gems, the occasional twitter of birds piercing the night air.

The dirt and grime of the city seemed like a distant memory as they crept through the foliage. Here, Jak was in his element. His muscles trembled with excitement and the air around him felt hot and electrified as he resonated with the eco far below the ground. Daxter on the other hand, trembled for entirely different reasons.

"Uh ... Jak? I really don’t think this is a good idea ..." he whispered.

Jak’s voice was low and rumbled with a barely concealed growl, "Relax, I can handle a few Metal Heads. I haven‘t been beaten before."

Daxter hissed in response, “Yeah well, you were sober then."

Putting a finger to his lips, Jak crouched down and pointed to a large, ambling creature snuffling through the undergrowth. The size of a large zoomer, it was shaped somewhat like a jaguar, sleek black muscles shining purple with dark eco. Its tail snapped sharply as it sniffed the air, then snarled and turned to look straight at them, its skull gem gleaming in the light.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Daxter screamed and clung to Jak’s shoulder as his friend stood up and grinned, reaching for his weapon ...

... and finding nothing there.

Jak’s eyes widened and he groped around on his back. "Oh shit!"

Daxter paled. "What’s ‘oh shit‘?! ‘Oh shit’ is bad, Jak!"

Balling his fists, Jak’s confident smirk twisted into a frustrated snarl. "I left the morph-gun back at HQ."

"YOU MEAN WE’RE DEFENSELESS?!" Daxter felt all the blood rush from his head.

"Not quite. Hold on, Dax."

As the Metal Head hunkered down in preparation to pounce, Jak raised his fists in front of his face and growled, then threw his head back and roared, a deep, animalistic sound. The air around him rippled, then glowed purple as his skin and hair faded to white, dark horns sprouting from his forehead as his eyes darkened to pure black. Unsheathing razor sharp claws, he huffed and panted, snarling as the air around him crackled with dark eco.

The Metal Head hesitated for half an instant, then licked its lips in anticipation of such a fountain of eco. With a demonic howl, it pounced, its jaws wide. Jak leaped into the air, then slammed his fist down on top of the beast’s head, shattering its skull and sending the gem spinning into the darkness. The Metal Head’s body disintegrated into a gaseous cloud of dark eco that floated above the ground for a few seconds before joining the glowing mass around Jak.

His teeth chattering, Daxter kept a firm grip on his best friend’s shoulder. As long as he didn’t let go he’d be safe. Jak wouldn’t let any Metal Heads near him, and he wouldn’t have to fear Jak turning on him either. Just hold on tight and wait for it to end. Oh, and don’t soil Jak’s shoulder in the meantime.

Enticed by the eco signal, Metal Heads roared and charged through the forest, each rushing towards Jak’s dark form to eat their share. One by one they fell, torn to shreds by Jak’s ruthless bloodlust. He crouched low, swaying from side to side, his hands twitching and curling, his lips parted in a cruel grin. With a snarl, he grabbed the jaws of the last Metal Head, tearing its head in two and snatching the gem out of the air as its body vanished.

But before he could revel in his victory, he grimaced and cried out, clutching his head and moaning as the dark eco faded away. He fell to his knees and panted at the end of the transformation, sweaty and shaking from exertion. Swallowing, he sat back, dazed and tired, but with the anger finally receding.

Daxter cracked open one eye. "Is it over?"

Out of breath, Jak nodded. "Yeah. They’re gone."

Daxter poked his cheek. "I wasn’t talking about the Metal Heads." Hopping down off of Jak’s shoulder, he picked up a skull gem and held it up to the dying light. "I don’t get these things. What are they even for?"

Shrugging, Jak pulled himself to his feet. "Does it matter? All I know is anything with a Metal Head gem is dangerous and better off dead."

Tossing the gem in the air and catching it, Daxter raised an eyebrow at the deep rumble. "Geez Jak, if you’re that hungry you shoulda eaten back at The Naughty Ottsel."

Jak looked at him in confusion. "I’m not hungry."

"Then why’s your stomach rumbling?" Daxter quipped.

"My stomach’s not --" Suddenly Jak’s eyes widened. "DAXTER, LOOK OUT!"

"Huh?" The ottsel turned and found himself face to face with a growling Metal Head, raising his arms to cover his face.

Jak leaped forward, grabbing Daxter and rolling out from under the Metal Head as its jaws snapped the empty air where Daxter’s head had been. Gritting his teeth, he cursed. "Shit ..."

Daxter scrambled back onto his shoulder and gulped. "Can’t you do that thing again?! The whole angry monster thing?!" He put his hands to the side of his head and raised his fingers to mimic Dark Jak’s horns.

Jak didn’t take his eyes off the beast pacing towards them. "Not so soon after changing back. This one’ll have to be taken down the hard way."

Daxter’s ears drooped and his arms fell to his sides. "I was afraid you were gonna say that."

Taking a step back, Jak slid into a defensive pose. The creature tensed, then lunged forward. Closing his eyes with a high-pitched scream, Daxter made himself as flat as he could against his friend’s shoulder.

This fight wasn’t over as quickly as the others. Jak danced around the creature, landing a few solid hits but lacking the strength to deal a deadly blow. He screamed as sharp claws slashed through his shoulder armor like a hot knife through butter, throwing Daxter from his perch.

"DAXTER!" With a final determined war cry, Jak slammed his fist into the Metal Head’s rib cage, falling forward as its body disintegrated into dark eco gas. Letting out a sigh of relief, he called out after his friend. "You okay, Dax?"

Shaking his head, Daxter picked a twig out of his ear and brushed off his fur, looking himself over. "No broken bones. You got lucky that time, buster!" Folding his arms, he padded through the undergrowth towards his friend. "Next time you want to go hunting, make sure you ..." His voice trailed off as Jak hauled himself to his feet against a tree. There was a deep gouge in his left shoulder and blood dripped down his arm and off the tips of his fingers.

"Good ... I’m glad you’re not hurt." Jak smiled, then winced as his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground.

Daxter scrambled over and climbed onto his chest. "Jak?! JAK?! Stay with me, Jak!"

"M’jus gonna close my eyes for a bit," Jak mumbled as he went limp.

Spinning around in a circle, Daxter flapped his hands. "SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!" Rummaging through Jak’s bag, he found a Resistance beacon, pressing it repeatedly in a panic, then tossing it aside and patting Jak’s cheek. "Jak?! Come on, say something! JAK! JAAAAAAAK!"

A heavy rustling noise from the undergrowth sent Daxter skittering to hide behind Jak's shoulder. His heart pounded in his chest as he stayed as still as possible, and the lumbering form moved away. Letting out a breath of relief, Daxter climbed out from his hiding place and lifted up what was left of Jak's shoulder plate.

"Oh gross, Jak! You never do things by halves, do you?" Padding around to behind his head, he grabbed Jak's tunic and heaved, moving him slowly inch by inch to the shade of the trees and comparable safety. It was slow going, and after a few minutes Jak began to stir and moan in pain. Daxter scrabbled over his chest and covered his friend's mouth until he grew quiet, "Shhh! We don't wanna attract more Metal Heads!"

But the forest was crawling with the insectoid monsters and Daxter could hear them snuffling through the foliage, hunting for their next meal. He curled up behind Jak's head, grabbing onto his hair and keeping his eyes and ears keen for danger.

"What's gotten into you, Jak?" he sighed to himself. "Down and out from one measly scratch? That's not the Jak I know." But really, the Jak he knew died when they left Sandover Village. By the time he had managed to break into the prison facility and rescue his friend, more than two years had passed. Jak had grown, he wasn't just a small boy anymore, and the torture and hell that he'd been through had warped his personality. Despite all that, Daxter knew his friend was still in there. He was just buried under a whole lot of fear and anger.

It felt like an eternity before a series of explosions rocked the forest, followed by the hum of a zoomer drawing close. Scampering into the clearing, Daxter’s ears perked up as a familiar figure climbed out of the vehicle, chewing on his cigar.

“Daxter! Where’s pretty boy?" Jinx blew out a lungful of smoke and gave him a sideways grin. "You guys get in over yer heads again?" Jinx was the explosives genius of the Resistance and one of Torn’s most reliable men, though after working with them on several occasions he had a soft spot for the two renegades.

Daxter flailed and hopped from paw to paw. "It’s Jak, he’s hurt! There was a Metal Head, it bit him or something! Like, five of them, all at once! It was horrible, I tried to fend them off but there were twenty too many!" He clutched his tail and his ears drooped. "Please help him."

Jinx raised an eyebrow, then stepped around Daxter to where Jak lay, blood soaking into the ground beneath him. Clucking his tongue, he tore a sleeve off his shirt and tied it tightly around Jak’s shoulder and upper arm, then slapped his cheek a few times. "Hey, Goldilocks, wakey wakey rise and shine!"

Jak’s nose twitched and his eyes fluttered open. "Huh?"

"There’s them baby blues. C’mon tough guy, we're gonna get you back to HQ, get you patched up like new." Grabbing Jak’s right arm, Jinx pulled him to his feet, ignoring the cries of pain. "Looks like you’re losing yer touch there."

Gritting his teeth, Jak struggled to stay awake. "M’fine ..."

"Course you are, ya ain’t made’a glass." Despite his usual joking, Jinx’ face was stony and his concern was obvious as he loaded Jak into the back of the zoomer.

Daxter clambered in after him and crouched on his chest, touching his cheek hesitantly. "Jak?" There was no response.

Jinx started up the engine. "He’s out again, he lost a lotta blood. Gonna lose even more if we don’t get our butts outta here. I took care’a the KG bots at the entrance but more’ll be along soon." Hitting the gas, he guided the zoomer out of the forest and back towards the city.

Daxter looked back at the open entrance. "But what about the Metal Heads? What if they get into the city?!"

Jinx grinned and puffed on his cigar. "Don’t you worry about that, Dax." He lifted up a small remote and flipped a switch, then seconds later the entranceway exploded, creating a blockade of rubble and mortar. "It’ll keep ’em inside fer now, someone’ll come by and fix it proper in a few days."

Sitting back down, Daxter looked across at his pale and bloody friend. Those dark eco experiments, the horrible torture Baron Praxis had subjected Jak to ... it would kill him one day. The question was whether he would take everyone else with him.

As the zoomer hovered high above the ongoing war on the streets, Jinx picked up his walkie-talkie and pressed a button on the side. "Torn, this is Jinx, we gotta problem here. Jakkie-boy’s gone and got himself mauled by a buncha Metal Heads, it’s pretty bad."

A growly voice crackled in response. "How bad?"

Jinx pinched his cigar and tossed it out the open roof, then lowered his voice. "Real bad. You might wanna get the Shadow to meet us at HQ."

"He’s already here. I called him when Jak left, I was worried something like this would happen. We’ll have a medic kit waiting when you arrive. Over and out."

Hanging up the walkie-talkie, Jinx reached over and patted Daxter’s shoulder. "Don’t fret yerself, fuzzball. Torn an’ the Shadow are all ready and waitin’ for us." He pulled the zoomer around the corner and the harbor came into view.

For once in his life, Daxter didn’t know what to say, he just held on to Jak’s arm and watched as Jinx dodged and ducked around pedestrians, bringing the zoomer to a smooth stop outside The Naughty Ottsel.

As Jinx lifted Jak out of the zoomer, Torn came to the door to meet them. "For the love of ... what the hell did he do this time?"

"Beats me, but he did it good whatever it was." Jinx laid him carefully on a cleared table, then pulled Torn aside as Daxter scurried in and up onto the table. "He got mauled bad, but I ain’t never seen a Metal Head that can do that kinda damage. Not since the leader got killed. Whatever it was, it shoulda killed him outright."

Torn sighed, covering his face with one hand. "Thanks, Jinx."

"Hey, you’re just lucky I was in the area." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver box, selecting a cigar and lighting it.

"Get that thing out of here!"

A short, green-skinned old man with mis-matched glasses and wooden shoes came pattering out from the back of the bar, shooing Jinx towards the door. "No smoke in here, you’ll just make things worse! Out out out!"

Jinx grinned and saluted. "That’s my cue. Take care’a pretty boy, Shadow."

"Hmph." The man scowled, then turned to the table. "Well Jak, what on earth have you done this time?"

Daxter’s lower lip trembled and he grabbed the man’s shirt. "Samos! You gotta help him!"

Samos arched an eyebrow and pushed Daxter aside. "I will, if you would get out of my way, furball. Now, tell me what happened." Samos was the sage of Sandover Village, an old man that had practically raised both Jak and Daxter as his own offspring, despite their tendency to ignore every piece of advice he offered. A wise man, deeply in touch with nature and able to manipulate green eco, he was a skilled healer.

Daxter sat down at the edge of the table, wringing his tail between his paws. "Jak wanted t’go to the forest and fight Metal Heads, but they were big and there were too many!" His ears drooped. "He left his gun behind, he got hurt trying to protect me."

Samos listened as he unwound Jinx’ makeshift bandage, his expression calm as he eyed the wound critically. "It’s deep, he’s lost a lot of blood. I‘ll do what I can." Rubbing his hands together, he slowly drew them apart, the familiar warm glow of healing green eco illuminating Jak's injury.

Torn shook his head and sat down in a booth. "One thing after another."

Sig sat opposite him, looking across at the table. "I should have stopped him. I could have taken him back --"

"He did this to himself," Torn corrected him. "No one could have stopped him."

"By the Precursors!"

They both stood at Samos’ exclamation. "What is it?" Torn questioned.

The old sage clutched his hand painfully as pale purple steam rolled off his singed skin. "Dark eco ... in the wound." Holding his hand out again firmly, he waited for the green eco to surround the injury before pressing his hand to it. Tissue and muscle began to knit before their eyes, as expected. But suddenly there was a loud hiss of pressure being released and the wound burst open again, foaming and fizzing angrily with a dark purple hue. Samos snatched his hand back again and wrapped it tightly in a bandage. "This is unusual, even for Jak. I have healed him before, but never has this happened."

Torn’s eyes widened. "Then what is it?"

Samos shrugged as he watched the dark eco recede back into the wound. "Some kind of poison or venom, I would wager. We know little about the Metal Heads and what they are capable of."

"Dark eco transmitted by blood? That’s impossible!"

The sage held up a hand to stop him. "Improbable. Remember, this is Jak we’re talking about. It seems as though instead of rejecting the Metal Head’s poison and succumbing to it, his body is attempting to assimilate it into his blood stream."

"Those dark eco experiments, they did something wacky to his DNA an‘ made him super-resistant to dark eco," Daxter exclaimed. "So he’s gonna be okay?!"

Samos closed his eyes and shook his head. "This level of dark eco would have killed anyone else. But we’ve seen what it does to Jak. I’m afraid this may be too much for even him to handle."

As if waiting for his cue, Jak groaned and his fingers twitched. Suddenly he arched his back and moaned loudly, his skin fading to white for a brief moment before returning to normal. He sighed and went limp again.

Samos checked his pulse, then turned back to Torn. "It will not be long before he will lose all control of himself, and Dark Jak will be the only Jak. He may take care of the Metal Heads and Krimzon Guard, but he will destroy us all with them."

Daxter’s eyes widened and he stood up. "Jak wouldn’t do that! He‘s one of the good guys, he‘s -- WOAH WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" he yelled as he found himself staring at the business end of Sig’s Peace Maker.

Sig grimaced, then hardened his gaze.

Torn jerked his head and made a broad gesture. "Step aside, Daxter."

The ottsel’s eyes widened. "You can’t be serious, you’re going to kill him?!"

"If we don’t, he’ll kill us all." Torn narrowed his eyes. "Daxter, this is your last warning. Move away, or Sig'll take you down with him."

Daxter shrank down slightly. "Sig ...?"

The wastelander lowered his weapon slightly, then raised it again. "Sorry little buddy. You know I don’t wanna do this." Daxter’s jaw dropped, then he folded his arms and sat down hard on Jak’s stomach.

Sig groaned. "I was afraid you were gonna do that." The Peace Maker whined and the end began to glow. His finger moved to the trigger.

"WAIT!" Samos stepped in the way and pushed the barrel of the Peace Maker down. "There might just be an answer."

Torn’s eyes narrowed. "You got ten seconds to convince me."

Samos glowered and wagged his finger at the Resistance leader. "Just you remember who you’re talking to, young man!" He paced, tugging at his beard. "I was reading that text you had recovered from the catacombs and one of the legends reminded me of something. Before we were thrown into the future through the rift gate, Jak used light eco to overpower the dark eco of our enemies."

Daxter gasped and jumped to his feet. "That’s right!"

Sig looked confused as he lowered the Peace Maker. "Light eco? Never heard of it."

"It’s incredibly rare, and even rarer to find someone who can utilize it. Even the Precursors themselves revered it." Samos picked up the book and flipped through a few pages, showing diagrams of crystal structures, eco vents and a dark silhouette that glowed with a brilliant light. "If we could locate a source of light eco, it may neutralize the dark eco poison, or at least slow it long enough for us to find a cure."

"Sounds risky," Torn said distrustfully.

"Sounds impossible," Sig sighed.

"Sounds like a job for Orange Lightning!" Daxter declared, scampering over to Torn and scrambling up to his shoulder. "I’ll find that light eco, Torn. You gotta give me a chance!"

Torn scowled, then sighed. "But where are you even gonna start?"

"SKWARK!"

Daxter stiffened, then twitched. "Oh no ..."

"Onin says, her presence is needed here," a thickly accented voice called out. The group turned to see an old, gnarled woman floating in the entrance to the bar. Onin was a mysterious woman with unexplained ties to the Precursors. Blind and mute, she communicated through her apprentice, Pecker, Daxter’s nemesis.

"What are YOU doing here, bird-brain?!"

Pecker cleared his throat and flapped his wings. "Insolence! I am here to assist in whatever trouble you and your SKWARKing partner have gotten into dis time." Half parrot and half monkey, Pecker was loud, arrogant, cocksure and a dead-ringer for Daxter, though neither of them would ever admit as much.

"Yeah well, we were managing just fine without you, so why don’t you just --"

"Onin says, Jak is in terrible danger." Pecker ignored the ottsel, gliding over to the table and perching beside Jak’s head. Onin followed, her mouth uttering silent words as her hands cast ancient spells, sprinkling fragrant perfumes and eco dust in the air. "Onin says de darkness widin him is growing and while de war is being fought in de city, Jak is fighting an internal war wid his dark side."

Torn folded his arms. "Onin, what do you know about light eco?"

The old woman’s face lit up in surprise and she made several sweeping gestures as Pecker watched. "Onin says, light eco is rare, very rare. But she can sense its presence in Jak’s past, it is fighting back against de dark eco inside him, SKWARK."

Daxter’s face broke into a grin and he clambered up onto the table. "That’s it, we just gotta find some light eco and he’ll be okay again!"

Onin’s face hardened and she shook her head. "Onin says, light eco alone will not save Jak. He must win de war for himself." Pecker looked shocked and somewhat saddened, "Onin says, if Jak is touched by light eco widin twelve hours, he may be victorious. If not, he will become a threat more dangerous than de Metal Heads and de KG combined. SKWARK, great Precursors! Dis is terrible!"

Samos sighed. "Oh Jak ..."

Daxter frowned and threw his arms in the air. "’Oh Jak’ nothin’! What’s with all the doom and gloom!" He pointed accusingly at Torn. "It looks like you’ve all forgotten who the hero is here! Jak saved your asses more times than I’ve had fleas! But you all wanna give up on him the second he’s in trouble. Some friends you are!"

Torn chewed his lip, then shook his head. "Daxter, you’ve got eleven hours. Find that light eco, and bring it back here. I won’t put the city in danger for any longer than that, you hear me?"

His face lit up. "I knew you'd pull through, Torn!"

"I’ll go with you, chili pepper." Sig set his Peace Maker in its holster. "You’re right, Jak saved our asses before, it’s time for us to return the favor."

Pecker squawked. "Onin says, you should go to see Damas in de desert palace. He has many Precursor artifacts and may be able to help. Oh and also, you are nuts." He folded his wings. "Though dat part is just my personal opinion."

"Good luck, Daxter. May the blessings of the Precursors be with you," Samos offered as Daxter hopped onto Sig’s shoulder.

"Just keep Jak safe for me, old man. We’ll be back before ya know it." He flashed him a peace sign, then slapped Sig's shoulder. "Onward!" He kept his eyes ahead as they left, refusing to look back. Always forward, never back, that's what Jak had told him once. It was the only time he'd spoken of his experiences in the prison and he never mentioned it again. I had to keep waiting for tomorrow, Dax. If I thought about yesterday ... He'd shaken his head and smiled darkly. Always forward, never back.

Sighing, Daxter patted Sig's helmet. "No offense big guy, but it just ain't the same up here."

Sig smirked as they climbed into the zoomer, starting it up and accelerating across the harbor. "Yeah well, Jak'll be up and running before you know it. Right now it's up to you and me to save the day, cherry."

Daxter stuck his tongue out and pulled a face. "Don't call me that! My name is," He leaped up in the seat and did a kung fu kick, "Orange Lightning! Howaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Waving his arms, then squeaking and diving beneath the seat at a sudden intermittent beeping. "DUCK AND COVER!"

Laughing, Sig picked up his communicator. "Relax, it's just a call."

His fur standing on end, eyes wide, Daxter climbed back onto the seat. "I knew that ... I knew that!"

"Sure you did. Sig here," the wastelander spoke into the handset.

"Sig? It's Ashelin," a female voice responded over the crackling airwaves.

Daxter's ears perked up. "Oooh, T and A!" Leaning over, he spoke into the receiver. "Ashelin baby, I knew you couldn't stay away!"

Rolling his eyes, Sig pushed him back to the seat. "What's happening, Ashelin?"

"Torn told me you boys needed a transporter. I set up a vehicle for you at the east dock, it'll take you to the desert garage entrance."

Sig pulled the zoomer into a hard turn towards the east dock. "Thanks Ashelin, we can take it from there."

"Sig, what's going on? Is Torn okay? He sounded distracted, told me to bring supplies to HQ. Has something happened?"

Sig's face hardened slightly. "Torn's fine, but he and Jak have been butting heads lately and I think he'd appreciate a friendly face."

There was a short pause on the other end of the receiver. "Alright, I'm almost at the city border, I'll check in with you later. Stay safe, Sig."

"You too, Ashelin. Over and out."

Daxter pouted. "Hey, don't I get to say goodbye?"

"No."

He scowled and folded his arms. "You know Sig, we're gonna hafta have a little man-to-ottsel chat about you crimping my style with the ladies."

"That'll have to wait for later, Dax." Bringing the zoomer to a stop, Sig climbed out and walked over to the large blue transporter, rapping his knuckles on the back door.

Hopping up onto his shoulder, Daxter cocked his head as the door slid open with a hiss of hydraulics. "This looks just like the KG transporters Jak and I used to use to get to the eco mines!" He patted the side with his paw as they sat down. "Cept it ain't red."

Strapping himself in, Sig gestured. "It's a repaint. After the Baron died, Ashelin didn't see a reason to waste resources, but no one'd take her new heavies seriously in KG colors."

Daxter waggled his eyebrows. "Ooh, pretty AND resourceful. My kinda woman! Mraow!"

Sig shook his head and rubbed his temple. "How does Jak put up with you?"

"Selective hearing, he's very good at it," Daxter linked his hands behind his head. "Or maybe he's just deaf in his left ear," he pondered.

* * *