Jak and Daxter 1. Stolen Peace

A.N. Greetings, this fan-fiction is written as a sequel to both the Jak 2 game and my fan-fiction of the original Jak and Daxter game "Confessions by Candlelight". If you wish you may go and read that before you begin this however it will make sense without it. This is set after the game has finished and will contain spoilers so I suggest that you finish the game before reading this. Otherwise please enjoy my writing.

The Visionary

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Stolen Peace

Jak awoke slowly, his eyelids inching open as he let his body absorb the pleasant feelings of eiderdown beneath him and the warmth of her body lying naked against his. He shifted, the arm around her shoulders pulling her closer as he traced the curve of her hip with his free hand, looking down at her as she stirred in her sleep, soft lips mumbling something in her dreams as her head shifted on the warm pillow of his chest. His hand came up to brush a strand of green hair away from her heart-shaped face, her heartbeat a steady, soothing rhythm felt through the softness of her breast as he let his hands stay upon her face, his fingers gently exploring the feel of her smooth features.

The memories of last night filled his mind, as he cupped her cheek, thanking God that the rift the Baron had created between them had been healed, that she had accepted him into her arms once more. They had been lovers in Sandover, his fight against Gol and the part she had played in his recovery enough to take them past friendship. Since fate had torn them apart he had not known peace, the dark eco inside him ruling him, fuelling his hatred, his anger.

Last night, for the first time in over two years he had found that peace, the burning flames in his soul snuffed out by the panacea of her mere presence, her slim arm about his waist an anchor in the storm of what had been done to him. He had cried after she fell asleep in his arms, let tears fall for the first time in two years, tears of pain, of sorrow, of love, of joy, pent-up emotion finally finding an outlet as her love healed the wounds inside him. Now he simply held her, trying to re-memorise everything about her, stretch out each moment with her in his arms as long as he could. The few hours he had spent sleeping had been drawn from him by exhaustion, not from the act of making love to her but from the physical and mental strain he had borne alone for so long.

He held her closer for a moment, leaning over to plant a kiss on her smooth forehead. She stirred as his lips touched her, her hands running over his chest as she awoke, the familiar sight of his muscled torso as she awakened a missed and longed for feeling. He leaned back and their eyes met, the emerald green of her large exotic eyes bright and enchanting despite the fact she was still half-asleep. A lazy smile curved her lips as one of his powerful hands gently stroked her hair, smoothing it after their night of passion. She laid her head back onto his chest, arms circling his waist as she closed her eyes again, whispering a prayer of thanks that he was still there.

'I was so scared it was a dream.' She spoke quietly, arms tightening around him for an instant. 'I didn't want to wake up in case you weren't here. In case it had all been a dream and I was still stuck in this terrible place all alone.' Emotion choked her voice as she finished, telling Jak that he was not the only one who had suffered since their exodus from Sandover. He soothed her quietly, cupping her cheek as his thumb traced her cheek, wiping away the beginnings of a tear.

'Keira, I came too close to loosing you. I'm never leaving you. Not ever again.' She smiled at his voice, at the softness of his face. It had been so long since she'd seen him without that anger there in his eyes. When she looked at him now he was just her Jak again, none of the darkness within him showing as he stared down at her. She pulled him closer.

'I don't want you to Jak. You and daddy are all I have here. When I thought that you… that what they'd done to you had meant you didn't love me anymore. I… I cried myself to sleep every night.' He silenced her with a kiss, pulling her small frame up easily as he tilted her head and claimed her lips, slowly massaging them with his own as his knuckles gently stroked the side of her face. He let her go, her breath coming in short pants as his eyes burned with emotion. That inner strength and intensity that he had always borne showed in his gaze as he looked down at her, taking her in, possessing her in that wonderful way she knew meant he would never let her go.

She slid her small frame against his and kissed his neck as her arms circled him, the need to feel him beside her rushing up through her, a mixture of emotional and physical need filling both as he embraced her fiercely. As teenagers they had been tentative in their relationship, not precisely afraid of embracing all aspects of their love but perhaps a little reluctant. The years apart had taught them to embrace all the wants that their love for each other brought, the physical desire that they had for each other something that they had embraced now that it was once again given an outlet. 

It was a sign to both of them how much they had grown in the two and a half years that they had been apart. To them the fact that they loved each other more now than they had before was the only proof they needed that they were destined for each other. She snuggled into the feeling of his arms around her, the muscles along his tall, athletic frame a warm blanket of soft steel. Her bed had been empty of him for too long.

Outside her window the city was coming to life as the citizens awoke, the sounds kept out by the thick walls and windows of her spacious apartment above her garage. They had come here after the celebrations, the shared need to regain what they had once thought lost pulling them together. The night had been spent together, sating not only their physical need for each other but also the emotional urgency to re-establish their link, to know that things could be as wonderful as they had once been. She turned in his arms, watching the sun through the window as she analysed the feeling of his body against her, pulling an arm with her so that she could still feel him all around her. He rose with her, pulling her to his chest as she sat on his lap, arms around her waist.

'What happens now Jak?' She sighed as she asked, the fear of what the future could hold plain in her voice. 

He smiled, 'Well I doubt we'll have trouble staying in the city. I made a few friends in high places.' The words brought a smile to her lips as she thought of Torn and Ashelin, she the Governor of Haven City and he the new commander of the Krimson Guard. 'Besides, there's no one that can beat me on the track. If we need money or anything I can race for your garage.'

Her smile grew teasing as she turned, straddling his hips as she embraced him and lay her head on his shoulder. 'Somehow I can't picture that. Jak.'

He raised an eyebrow, running his fingers through her hair, 'Why not?'

She giggled, rubbing her nose against his. 'Because you're made to do great things, not race around a track for the rest of your life.' He smiled but before he could answer his eyes snapped up, the softness on his features evaporating as he suddenly seemed to radiate danger. She remained silent as he stood in one smooth motion, laying her gently aside as he rose. An instant later he had pulled on his pants and his hand had settled on the holster for his rifle, the worn but sturdy leather strapped across the back of his wide belt.

He cocked his head, long ears twitching this way and that as he tried to catch sounds filtered through the soundproofing of her window. She tried to speak but he held up his hand to silence her, standing as he pulled on his belt, buckling it quickly as he flicked the safety off on his rifle.

'What is it?' She finally asked, both scared and assured by the sudden transformation that had taken place in him, not quite as startling as his transformation into his dark alter-ego but enough to remind her of the power inside her lover.

'Krimson Guard.' He spoke grimly.

'So? They're taking orders from Torn now. Why do we have to worry about a patrol?'

He shook his head, 'This is more than a patrol, about fifty men coming down the street. They're heading straight here with maybe three carriers. I can hear them. There's been a lot of tension in the palace, a lot of people don't like Ashelin being in charge. If someone tried to take the throne from her I'd be the first one they came after.'

She pulled the blanket up around her bare chest, fright rising in her voice. 'You? But why?'

His eyes met hers and the burning gaze at once frightened and calmed her, the protective danger there putting the truth to his words. 'Because I'm the most dangerous opponent they'd have.' He moved to her side, cupping her cheek gently. 'Don't worry. They're no threat to me, I'll go find out what they want.' He turned and strode away, his words running through her mind. Fifty of them, and they were no threat. If she had not known that he would rather die than hurt her it would have terrified her, as it was it made her feel safer than ever before.

She rose and began to dress, listening to the sounds coming from below, waiting with baited breath for the sounds of combat to erupt. They never came, the sound of footsteps on the stairs rising as she pulled a loose white blouse on, her baggy blue trousers cool in the summer heat. Pulling her hair back she slid her hair-band into place, Jak greeting her eyes as the door opened. He seemed oddly dazed, staring at her blankly for a moment as he stood in the doorway.

She turned, her previous concern rising, 'Jak… what is it? What's wrong?'

He took a shaky step forward, gripping the foot of their bed for support as he swayed. He looked up and met her eyes once more, a rare look of bewilderment and disbelief upon his face. 'Keira,' he said slowly, 'Keira, I'm the King of Haven City.'

Her eyes widened, her hairbrush clattering to the floor as her mouth worked soundlessly, her lips eventually managing to form a quiet, 'Wha?'

Jak sat down on the bed, running his fingers through his spiky hair. 'It's Torn at the door. He just told me that… the reason that no one wants Ashelin in power… is cause they want the old king's son on the throne.' He fingered the amulet at his waist, its thong threaded onto his belt. 'They want me.'

She blinked, watching him silently for a moment. 'Oh.'

He gave her a small smile, 'Yeah, that's about what I said.' He sighed, 'The ministers want me to come to the palace immediately, for my coronation.'

She looked away from him, staring down at the slim boots on her feet as a hundred reasons this could drive a new barrier between them ran through her mind. 'Um… so… so what're you going to do?'

He frowned, 'I'm turning them down.' He looked up at her, her surprise plain on her face. 'I don't know anything about being a king. What use would I be? What do they expect me to be able to do?' His hand curled into a fist by his side, the unexpected twist bringing out his anger. As he met her eyes he sighed, unclenching his fist as her presence cooled his temper. 'What the heck am I going to do in the palace? I've not even slept in a proper bed for over two years.' He remembered the soft mattress beneath him and gave an embarrassed smile. 'Well, uh, except for last night.' She smiled and moved to him, cradling his head against her chest as she lay her cheek against the green tinge that striped his hair. His arms came up and circled her waist as he held her slim body closer, remembering the heat of her in passion, breathing in the scent of shampoo and perfume that drifted from her from when they had bathed after their joining.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, 'Is that what you told Torn?'

He shook his head, 'No, I… I was a little lost for words when he told me.'

The sound of boots on the stairs reached them before Torn appeared in the doorway, his slim frame enlarged by the bulky Krimson Guard armour that he wore. He leant against the doorway as he took in Jak's arms around Keira's waist and his head cradled against the smooth plain of her stomach, crossing his arms, a smirk appeared on his face.

'So this is why you left so early last night.'

Jak's face gained its own smirk as she stood, 'Well I noticed you and Ashelin left pretty early too, Commander.' The remark wiped the smile from Torn's face, the older fighter jabbing a thumb back down the stairs.

'Come on, they're all waiting for you at the Palace. I've got some new clothes for you to change into in the transport.'

Jak shook his head, fingering the rifle at his hip, 'I'm no King Torn and I don't want to be. You can tell the ministers that I've got no problems with Ashelin being in charge. She can run the city better than I ever could.'

Torn shrugged, 'That may be true Jak but it doesn't change anything. The minister's want a Marr on the throne and according to the Shadow, you're the last one around.'

Jak whirled, his temper flaring, as his voice heated, his eyes suddenly bearing the wild, dangerous glint that spoke of the darkness that still lurked within him. 'Since I've come to this city I've been tortured, shot, beaten and nearly killed more times than I can count. I saved the lives of every last one of those idiots in the palace and now they want me to sort out the mess they've made, well tough. I'm not going anywhere, this is the first place in this whole stinking city that I've been able to feel anything like peace. If they want me to lead 'em then they're free to come and try and take me from here cause there's no other way I'm leaving.'

Torn seemed taken aback by his outburst, the taller man backing away from Jak's burning gaze. Keira's small hand slipped into his and he cooled, the change almost startling as he turned to her, the anger fleeing his features instantly to be replaced by an almost desperate sadness, his hand holding hers tightly, as though to let go was to loose himself to the anger forever. He felt some sympathy for the young warrior, from what he knew of his past it had been fraught with danger and his time in the city had done nothing to ease the burden of life on his shoulders. He sighed, turning to Jak as he spoke.

'Look Jak, I know that you don't owe this city anything. Really we all owe you our lives, when you killed the Metalhead leader their attack fell apart and we cleared the city of them. But this city needs a leader, they need a hero that the people can rally around. And as little as you may like it you're the only hero around here.

'The metalheads are disorganised without their leader but they've not disappeared. There're still hundreds of them around the city and in the sewers below. The Krimson Guard are having enough trouble keeping the streets safe. What with all the ministers arguing and splitting our forces we're stretched so thin that if the metalheads ever got organised and attacked again we'd be overwhelmed. Ashelin's doing what she can but a lot of people don't recognise her authority and so she can't make much difference. The people need a leader Jak, someone to keep the ministers from tearing this city apart with their arguing. I never thought I'd say this but we need you Jak. Without you, without a king, Haven City's going to cripple itself and the metalheads are gonna finish us off.' 

Jak kept his eyes on Keira, remaining silent, his fist clenching and unclenching before she took his second hand in hers, her slim fingers threading through his as she held him with a surprising grip in her delicate hands. He took strength from the silent bond, drawing from it the peace he had so desperately needed during his time in Haven. 

She squeezed his hand reassuringly, so many people had always counted on Jak, none more so than her. Now, when he had been ready to live a life free of the challenges that it brought he had had a new responsibility thrust into his hands, once again people needed him, needed the protection that only he could give them. She knew that as he turned away he did this not for himself but for her. 

'Okay. I'll come to the palace and talk to your ministers. But I'm not promising anything.'

Torn toyed with the idea of trying to force the issue but stopped himself. He of all people knew how easily the young man's temper could be summoned. Instead he merely stepped out of the doorway, leaving the way clear as he motioned down the stairs.

'Come on, I've got some appropriate clothes in the carrier, Ashelin insisted that when you show up you at least look like a king. Keira can ride in another carrier, I've got a lot to explain about what's going on up at the palace.'

Jak pulled on a loose, long sleeved black shirt, buttoning it up as he shook his head, 'Keira rides with me and you can keep your clothes, now get out, I need to get dressed.' Torn sighed and again decided against forcing the issue, it was not worth the hassle over his clothes. He retreated down the stairs, the pair listening to his steps until they faded. Jak turned to her and she embraced him, knowing the pain in his eyes and the anger that it summoned. She took him into her arms, letting his own surround her waist as he laid his head in the crook of her neck.

She held him in silence for a moment before he sat back down on the bed, drawing her onto his lap as her arms rose to his neck.

'Why does this always happen Keira?' There was grief in his voice, his eyes glinting with unshed tears as he rose his gaze to meet hers. 'All I ever wanted was to be with you, to marry you in Sandover and grow old beside you. But every time we came close, every time we almost find happiness. Something happens and I'm torn away from you. I… I don't want to loose you again Keira. You're all I've got.' As he spoke the last his voice became choked with unfamiliar emotion, grief welling up in him as his arms tightened around her waist. The tears fell and he turned his head away, weeping silently.

Keira was wordless in her comfort, her arms pulling his head into the warmth of her chest once more, the same fears robbing her of any thought to speak. He rocked back and forth gently with her on his lap for a few moments, letting her warmth seep into him, letting his body memorise her, bond with her setting the link in his very soul. Nothing would keep her from his arms again. He would tear the palace apart with his bare hands to get to her. 

He stood and she slipped off him, embracing him for a moment more before her eyes rose, her eyes showing that their moment together had been enough for her to know his thoughts. They would not be parted, two years apart had not kept them from each other and neither would this. Reaching down he grasped his jacket, worn brown leather reaching his waist as he pulled it on, the stock of his rifle hidden beneath the baggy garment. Keira pulled her own out of a cupboard, a clean, bleached leather coat that reached down to her ankles, a slight blue tinge darkening it. 

He stared at himself in the mirror and she knew he was seeing himself in the Baron's armour, seeing himself as the ruler. He turned away, shaking his head, it would never happen. He looked up and found her eyes on him, one hand held out in an invitation. He remembered his own words and smiled at her, threading his fingers through hers. She returned the smile and squeezed his hand gently, reassuring him with the wordless gesture as together they moved down the stairs. Whatever happened in the palace he knew that she would not let go and nor would he.

A.N. A large first chapter as an introduction to this saga, I do not know when the next chapter will be posted but with the holidays approaching it should not be long, certainly before Christmas. I do hope that you have enjoyed this first chapter and ask that you let me know what you think of it with reviews or e-mails to my personal address Leo_Magik@hotmail.com. If you wish to be personally notified by me when the next chapter is posted simply request it in your review or e-mail and I will do my best to notify you whenever I update. As always, praise and constructive criticism are welcomed, random flames are not. Until next time,

Go With God

The Visionary


	2. Long Live the King

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A.N. Another chapter for your enjoyment readers but first I must express my profuse thanks for the overwhelming support you have shown the first chapter. It was your reviews that motivated me to update so soon. I do hope that this new chapter does justice to the praise you gave its predecessor, enjoy.

The Visionary

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Long Live the King

Jak had been right about the numbers, there were almost sixty Krimson Guard in the street outside her home, three carriers settled within their armoured cordon, two squads of twelve bikes providing mounts for almost half of the soldiers. Torn wordlessly led them to the carrier in the centre, the door sliding open at his approach as he waved them in, Jak ignoring the glances from the guards around them but Keira nervously moving closer to him as they entered.

The carrier was designed to carry command officers, sumptuous cushions lining the seats that ringed a small table, the edges raised so that documents and maps would not slip off while on the move. The décor was military, red and black meeting the eye everywhere except for the figure that sat opposite them as they entered, the door closing behind them with a hiss as Torn moved to a second carrier. Jak's eyes narrowed as they he recognised the figure before him, the floor swaying beneath his feet as the carrier rose from the street, Keira seating herself to watch the confrontation.

'What the hell are you playing at Samos? Why'd you tell them that I was a Marr?'

The sage had shed his tattered village clothes, opting instead for flowing green robes, ancient writings embroidered into the fabric. His beard had been thoroughly combed, the log still entangled in his hair but shining now with a new lustre, his large hands still gripping his staff, new growth sprouting among the leaves at its head. Yet for all the change he still bore the look of a sage, if anything his new wardrobe only increased the effect, his eyes staring out with that alert wisdom that he always bore from behind his complex spectacles.

He smiled fondly at his daughter, noting with a small smile how here eyes returned to Jak the moment they left him. He turned the smile to Jak, ignoring the steel in the young mans eyes but treading lighter than he would have with most people. Jak was not the young boy he had raised, not by a long way.

Jak gripped an overhead rail, the nervous energy in his body keeping him on his feet as he confronted the smaller man, his imposing bearing dwarfing the sage. 'Why the hell do I need to be king Samos? Ashelin's a better ruler than I'll ever be.'

Samos shrugged, stroking his voluminous white beard slowly. 'Well you're probably right about that Jak, she is certainly capable. But here's the problem. There are a lot of people at the palace that did very well for themselves under the Baron's rule, doing his dirty work for him. When Ashelin tried to take over, well a lot of them weren't too happy about it because frankly they knew that she wouldn't want their kind of help. And so now they're doing everything they can to undermine her authority and they've done a damn good job. It's too late for her to simply order them out of the palace, it would start a civil war that would tear Haven apart. She needs someone to take over whose authority is irrefutable, if not with the ministers then with the people at least. 

'Whether you like it or not Jak, you're that person, you're a hero and the heir to Haven's throne. If not in your own eyes then in the people's, and frankly that's all that matters. If you took the throne the people would rally behind you and nobody in the palace would dare to argue. Then with your authority Ashelin could sort out the mess up there and finally drag this city out of the gutter.' He emphasised his words by striking the tip of his staff on the floor, the metallic note fading as Jak stared down at him, Samos' words tumbling through his mind.

He could leave, he could leave Haven to fend for itself and be perfectly happy with Keira in some remote corner of the world, at least for a while. It was a thought that may have shocked him once, he'd always liked helping others as he grew but his years at Haven City had hardened him, particularly to any plight which it had brought on itself. But he knew that he could not, eventually the news would come that the remaining metalheads had organised themselves and levelled the city. 

He couldn't be happy knowing how much innocent blood would be on his hands, he knew that Keira shared his thoughts as she caught his eye, smiling sadly in encouragement, knowing how much he had already given up to save these people. Jak pulled in a deep breath, fighting down the rage that surged up in him at the fact that he was once again asked to give up his happiness for this city. He pressed it down, driving Dark Jak back into his cage, it got easier each time he did it but it was still a monumental battle of wills. Samos seemed to see it in the tightness of his body, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. His voice was soft when he spoke,

'What do you want out of life, Jak?' There was a moment of silence as he considered, Keira watching him with tentative eyes.

The young fighter's eyes flicked to her before he replied, his tone surprisingly soft, as though some terrible fatigue plagued him. 'Peace.' She smiled at his answer, at what the look had told her of her part in it, but again it was tinged with sadness, her sympathy for her lover showing on her face.

Samos nodded slowly, 'Well I can't say I blame you lad but I can tell you for a fact that you'll get none in this city unless you're ruling it. They would have found out about your heritage eventually Jak and by that time the old Baron's lackeys would have gathered enough power to be the first to you. And believe me when I say that they wouldn't be offering the throne.'

'I can take care of myself.' Jak growled as he sat.

Samos shrugged, motioning Jak forward. As Jak's form loomed over him Samos leaned up and whispered in his ear. 'Oh I'm quite sure that you could tear whatever force they sent after you to shreds. But could you take care of Keira?' There was another moment's silence. 'As long as you're in danger, she's in danger because you and I both know that she'd follow you into hell. And though I'm sure you could kick the devil in the balls and waltz out you would loose her.' He leaned back, returning to his seat as Jak's eyes burned into him, a war of thoughts raging in his mind as Samos continued, his voice loud enough for Keira to hear, her curiosity at the unknown exchange showing as she looked from one to the other as Samos finished. 'And I don't want that anymore than you do.'

Jak stood silently, watching Keira watch him out of the corner of his eye, her eyes bearing a fear and uncertainty that showed her nerves, her hands clasped anxiously in her lap. He sighed as he realised that just as he had given up a lot to be with her so had she. What they were flying into right now terrified her, he could see it in her eyes. If she had her wish she would be back at home, safe, away from all the danger that he brought in his wake. But she had sacrificed that safety, just to be at his side. He could not let her pay a price for that, not when her presence was all that kept him sane.

Before his thoughts could come to a conclusion the silence was shattered as the blaring of an alarm sounded from the cockpit, shouts rising for an instant as the carrier lurched sideways, the pilots sending it into a steep dive as something hissed past the window. The carrier in front of them was not as quick and an explosion tore it apart, the intensity of the light blinding Jak for a moment as his own carrier righted itself, one of his arms holding Keira steady as the craft pivoted in the air. From the opposite window there was another roar of light and sound as a third detonation plucked three bikes from the air, narrowly missing Torn's carrier, their riders already dead as they plummeted toward the city below. 

The trail of vapours outside the window made it plain that a missile had been the cause of their sudden alert, the fading path of ignited air leading his eyes to a group of armoured figures crouching on an overpass almost two hundred meters away. There were almost twenty of them, their armour black and lacking any symbols by which they could be identified. But Jak knew, there was only one place to get hardware that could do that to a Krimson Guard carrier in a single shot. And that was the Krimson Guard, now that he looked closer, the figures on the overpass looked like Krimson Guard under the black paint, and once again they were trying to kill him.

He glanced out the window, they were still over the suburbs, there was no cover among the buildings for the bulky carriers, not for a half-mile in every direction. Instinct honed by experience kicked in and thought and action became one as he threw the door to the cockpit open, the pilot not protesting as he snatched up the radio. 'Everybody, move! Go straight at them, don't let them keep firing those missiles or we're all dead!'

The Krimson Guard were conditioned to obey orders and followed without question, the two dozen bikes that surrounded them sweeping around as their formation dispersed to stop the next missiles from claiming too many, computer screens lighting up as they found the enemy. The carriers joined them, weapons sliding from hatches on the underbellies as the gunners in each ship picked their targets, the staccato chatter of gunfire rising as they took revenge for the ambush, the space between the two parties suddenly lit with glittering beams. The ferocity of their reply was unexpected, the ambush force faltering as three of their number were punched from their feet, metal and concrete exploding around them as stray shots tore at the scenery.

Yet despite their efforts two more missiles struck at them as the gap closed, three more of the bikes falling as they descended on the enemy. The third launcher was inaccurate, a shot knocking the shooter from his feet just as he pulled the trigger. Jak watched with wide eyes as the guidance system of the missile righted it and sent it on a direct course for them, the vapour trail flaring as its boosters kicked in. He did not wait for the pilot to react but merely kicked the control stick to the side even as he launched himself back into the rear, one hand seizing the overhead rail as his arm swept Keira close, her eyes wide and frightened at the sudden violence.

'Hold on!' His voice rose in command as he locked a leg against the table, securing himself and his precious charge in a corner as the craft pitched wildly to one side, Samos' eco flowing around him in a green shield as he was thrown from his seat. The missile caught the craft in the rear, the explosion tearing a hole through the armour and filling Jak's world with nothing but sound, darkness and heat as he turned, shielding Keira with his own body as she screamed. It was a high, frightened note that cut at him as it rang in his ears, Samos' words echoing in his mind. He could not loose her. He would not. The carrier pirouetted through the air, his muscles straining wildly to stop the wild spinning from smashing the young woman in his arms, the whirling world allowing him brief glimpses of green to tell him that Samos was holding his own.

Then they hit ground, upside down, the sudden concussion of landing throwing him from his place, the edge of the table bruising his flank he was thrown down, sprawling atop Keira as Samos hit the opposite wall, the glow of eco fading. Jak looked up and swore, the whole of the rear was simply gone, the edges jagged and torn by the force of the explosion. From outside there came the screams and sounds of a firefight and he knew that they had come down right in the middle of the enemy. A dark shape blocked out the sunlight as it filled the entrance, his eyes locking with the cold, red light that glowed from the helmet's visor as the black armoured form brought up his fire lance. Jak's hands grabbed Keira as she tried to rise, hauling her behind him as a growl rose in his throat, the attacker's first shot tracing a path of liquid fire across the floor where Keira had been a moment before. Jak's arms moved and suddenly he was holding his rifle, the sights already aligned as the red aiming laser glimmered into life. A single shot neatly blew the ambusher's head from his shoulders.

Jak brought himself up onto one knee as the second one came, his voice rising in anger as he stepped over the body of his fallen accomplice and straight into the two shots that Jak snapped off. The first shattered the fire lance in his hand a split second before the other hit his chest, his armour saving his life but not his ribs as he went down, bones cracking with the force of the hit. 

Jak thumbed a switch on the side of the rifle and for a moment machinery twisted and changed in his hands like a living thing, the long, slender barrel shortening to a stubby, fat, but brutal machine. Two more of the black enemy filled the gap simultaneously, one getting off a shot that hissed past Jak's ear before a concussion split the air. The whole world seemed to shake for a moment as the shock of it slammed into them, at such close range it was devastating. The red shock wave shattered the plates of their armour and all but liquefied their fragile bodies inside, pitching them back and blasting fragments from the edge of the hole, the shrapnel adding to the chaos outside.

If another had meant to risk confronting them the intensifying firefight with the Krimson guard stopped them, death cries rising as the wing of bikes swept overhead, raking the roadway with fire, the advantage now with Torn's fighters as they routed the enemy. None of the black fighters had been ready for the ferocity of the reply that Jak had set into motion and now that a real fight had begun they were being massacred. As they continued to fall the cry went up to retreat and they fled, sprinting for a group of sleek black machines, Torn's vengeful Krimson Guard pursuing them all the way. The Krimson Guard fire traced a path into the tightly packed vehicles, puncturing armour and engine as they peppered them with fire. Explosions split the air as fuel tanks and eco concentrators were torn open, the ambushers that were still trying desperately to mount dying along with the machines. The few that did manage to rise into the air were gunned down in a matter of moments as another flight of Torn's guard cut them off, the veteran fighter seeing to it that victory was total, their mangled remains crashing into the overpass, sprawling their riders across the concrete.

Torn's carrier had been the third in the convoy, it's entrance ramp already open as it touched down, Torn leaning out to survey the battle site, a finely crafted pistol held in his free hand. He spat as he saw the damage to Jak's carrier, barely pausing to bellow orders. His voice rose in command as the Krimson guard set about taking prisoners of the wounded, their iron control settling on the battlefield.

'Put those fires out and call ambulances for the wounded! Get a transport here for the prisoners, I want them taken to site Beta.'

He whirled as one of the dead around the downed carrier heaved into movement, his pistol flashing upward only to find Jak staring back at him down the sights of his rifle, the red laser tracing a path through the air to his forehead.

He raised an eyebrow, 'You survived?'

Jak holstered his rifle with a smirk, turning to grip Keira's slim waist and lift her over the bodies, planting her by his side, her white coat stained by ash and dust. One of his hands stayed protectively upon her hip, pulling her close and turning her away from the spread of dead and wounded, her eyes shutting against the sight. Beside her Jak kicked at the corpse, his rage rising to the surface as he thought how close he had come to loosing her.

'This is Krimson Guard armour Torn, painted black! What the hell is going on?'

Torn cast a venomous gaze over the dead around them, his expression darkening. 'Proof that this city's in deep, deep shit. I'd hoped we'd have some time before they acted, seems like I was wrong. They're guards that are working for the Baron's ministers, the ones that liked the way he ran things and don't want to see it change.'

From the carrier came a bad tempered snort as Samos emerged, glaring at Torn, dried blood dirtying the side of his head, his eco already sealing the cut that had opened in his forehead. 'I warned you, you twit. I said to be careful but no, nobody ever listens to old Samos the Sage.' Torn grimaced but kept silent, turning to continue with his role as commander as Samos moved to the couple, casting his eyes over his daughter.

'Are you alright dear?' He asked as his hand became shrouded in green eco the small scrapes and bruises she had received evaporating as he turned to Jak. His eyes narrowed as he watched a cut above one of his eyes seal itself, only his eyes able to catch the flow of dark eco inside him that enabled such a miraculous recovery. He'd hoped that the dark eco was gone from Jak's body. Apparently he'd been wrong, at least it seemed that the boy could control it. 

But as Jak turned to him Samos felt his throat go dry, to most he would have looked simply angry, however, with his years of use of eco Samos saw the truth as he looked into his stormy blue eyes. He saw the raw anger boiling behind his features, a coiling pool of dark eco. Once it would have brought on the transformation into his dark alter ego but now Jak had hold of it, a tight grip that made it a controlled rage that sizzled just below the surface, seeking a target, a victim. His voice held a ring of anger as he spoke, eyes turning toward the palace over the rooftops of the city, it's black walls rising above the city.

'Samos, get me to the palace. Someone's gonna pay for this!'

~

The council chamber was the place that the ministers met, a semicircular amphitheatre with a central arena perhaps ten metres across, the seats rising up from it with enough space to seat almost fifty people. The walls were a dull metallic colour, the baron's banners torn from their places during the aftermath of the metal-heads attack but his insignia still etched into the wide table that took up most of the arena. At the table Ashelin stared defiantly up at the arguing ministers, their calls drowning out her shouts as the meeting dissolved into argument as it always did. Of the thirty ministers who sat above her there was almost an even split between those with her and those against.

The sounds of their raging argument drilled into her skull as she rested her knuckles on the table-top, closing her eyes as she fought down the urge to strangle every one of them. Every meeting was like this, a raging argument that she had to ride and carefully control, knowing that a wrong move by her would set a torch to the powder keg under the palace. It was a lottery whose side the Krimson Guard that ringed the room would be on if a fight ever did break out.

She held up her hands, appealing for quiet, 'Ministers, ministers please, we have to set this plan in motion. The eco-grid needs to be repaired before the city can begin to recover.' A voice rose from the drone to challenge her, her face clenching with anger as she saw its owner, a tall, slim man with a narrow face and small, deep-set eyes, his head completely bald above formal, black clothing.

'We all agree Governor but you cannot expect us to agree to the priorities that you have set. Surely the defence grids must come first, the inner city sections need to be under tight supervision to control the waves of looters who are taking advantage of the disorganisation.'

His name was Evan Michaels, the intelligence minister under her father and as evil a bastard as you could ever find. But he had power, most of the Krimson Guard elite were in his pocket, behind Erol he'd been her father's favourite and even her father had been appalled by some of the things he'd suggested. She should have kicked him out the moment she'd come into the palace but it was too late now. If she tried to do that it would force the confrontation to a head and there would be a blood bath. She had to play this smart, had to chip away at his control until he was too weak to pose a threat anymore. The elite, her father's personal guard of officers and enforcers controlled the defence grids in the inner city, now they were loyal to Michaels. She couldn't let him have them and she could not justify switching their control to troops loyal to her.

'The Krimson Guard has the situation well in hand. What is needed most right now is food and treatment for the injured, the medical and agricultural facilities have to be restored or Haven City will not be able to survive.'

If he made a reply it was cut off as the large double doors behind her burst open with a dull boom that rolled over the hall, silencing all as every eye turned expectantly to the entrance. Jak strode in, his face set in a scowl, on his left Torn and Samos hurried to keep up as Keira stayed close by his right, her eyes rising to take in the huge room. At their back thirty Krimson Guard formed two neat lines, armoured gauntlets holding fire-lances at the ready. Ashelin's eyes narrowed as she took in the tears and burns in Jak's clothing and the scars of battle on the armour of the Krimson Guard with them.

Her eyes darted to Torn who grimaced in a way that told her the situation was none of his doing before Jak's voice filled the silence that had descended, his legs carrying him to the table with long, powerful strides, his hand rising with something in its grasp.

'You all know who I am, my name's Jak Marr, that makes me king and that means I'm in charge here, anybody that thinks different should speak now although I should warn you that twenty of these attacked me on the way here.' His hand tossed the object onto the table, a black Krimson Guard helmet skittering to a halt, Ashelin saw a half-dozen faces in their audience blanch, Michaels barely twitched, but he did. 'And I'm looking to kill somebody for it.' As he spoke his rifle appeared in his hand, spinning from its holster to pan across the audience, its glimmering red laser tracing a path across foreheads and hearts.

There was a moment of silence as Ashelin and the others held their breath, suddenly wondering if it had been such a good idea to bring Jak in. But nothing happened, Jak's show of force had been enough, at that moment none of the ministers dared to challenge him, they'd all heard about him, heard what he could do. Ashelin let out her breath slowly, he'd scared them just enough to gain them a respite.

'Good.' His tone was still thick with anger, the rage simmering just underneath the surface as he dropped his rifle onto the table, the solid clank echoing in the silence that his words brought. He left it there as he continued, a reminder of who he was and what he could do, they'd all heard the story of what he'd done with it in the water district when the Krimson Guard had cornered him, nobody wanted to see a repeat in the council chamber.

He turned to Ashelin and smirked confidently, she couldn't help the thought that ran through her mind as she returned it, 'Cocky bastard.'

'Ashelin, you've got some plans for getting Haven back on its feet?'

She smiled again and held up a folder from the table. 'Yes, your Majesty.' She made an effort to use the title with a straight face. 'With these measures repairs to the city can begin immediately and proceed with maximum efficiency. Inside two months full infrastructure should be restored.'

'Good.' He turned to the ministers. 'I want everything in those plans started now. Anybody who doesn't give Ashelin her full support answers to me.' Nobody had noticed but as he spoke Jak's hand had settled on the rifle, as he finished everybody was suddenly aware that it had. 

Ashelin let the smirk creep back onto her face as she spoke up again, right now they had the upper hand, she had to capitalise. This was the best chance she'd ever have to pull the balance of power back into their favour. 'While we're on the subject your Majesty there are a few other measures that I'd like to implement.'

****

A.N Another chapter finished and a long one at that. I hope it was worth the read. Anyway, please tell me what you think via review or e-mail, I will try to get back to you as soon as possible if you have any queries and if the response is strong enough I will have the next chapter up before the new year. Again I extend an invitation to have me notify you via e-mail whenever I update and hope that the story is beginning to show qualities that warrant such interest. I suppose all that's left now is for me to wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Go With God

The Visionary


	3. Plans

****

A.N. Greetings once more readers, I hope you all had a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. This new chapter is an introduction to the main body of the story. From here on the plot thickens and runs quickly. Oh, and you can stop asking for Daxter, enjoy.

The Visionary

****

Plans

Daxter let out a satisfied belch as wiped a paw across the back of his mouth, the bottle by his side almost as big as him and nearly half empty, the gradually fermenting plum floating in the purplish liquid a testament to its potency. He grinned at Sig as the huge fighter pulled a face before turning to Tess, the slim woman slowly wiping down the bar upon which her diminutive partner drank. She gave a sly smile to Sig as they both watched Daxter drain another mouthful. Neither had the heart to tell him that the bottle was non-alcoholic, simply vile tasting. His grin changed to a frown as something on his com-link called his attention away, his eyes turning back to her as he sipped at his beer.

'Say Tess, turn on the blower would ya, my com's been pickin' up a whole lotta chatter on the Krimson frequency. Sounds like there's a lot of action goin' on but I can't make heads nor tail of it. Whatever it is somebody's givin' out a lotta orders, they cherries is jumpin about like they got coals underfoot.' She reached for the controller but Daxter snapped it up, taking in the complex buttons that sprawled across it before stabbing a paw at one, the large viewer he had had installed behind the bar coming to life.

He flicked through the channels, ignoring most of the trash that was still showing on the majority of stations, a remnant of when the Baron had banned ninety percent of television as being dissenting. He skipped to the news channel, the three watching expectantly as a slim woman dressed in a tight suit stepped into view, a headset replacing the microphone that some still used.

'And today a new life seems to have gripped Haven City in the wake of all the devastation and confusion. Orders have been streaming from the palace all day and it seems as though repair work has finally begun on the city. I am currently speaking to you live from in front of the palace through a transmitter that was repaired only this morning by newly employed work gangs. They have told us that they were apparently hired by Royal Decree, something that has not been heard since Baron Praxis' coup seven years ago. We have received orders from the palace just in the last few minutes to stand-by for a transmission from the palace which will explain everything.'

She paused in her speech, listening to something in her ear-piece for a moment before she smiled brightly at the camera, her usually paid for enthusiasm seeming for once to be genuine. 'I have just been told that the transmission is being sent out now, we're patching it through to your viewers.'

The image changed to the throne room inside the palace, the Praxis symbols gone from the walls as the camera focused on Ashelin standing in front of two ranks of Krimson Guard. By her side Torn stood in his own armour, his tattooed face bearing its perpetual glower but hinting at a smirk that tugged at his lips.

'People of Haven City, I am Governor Ashelin and I come before you today with a message of hope. This city has suffered for seven years, ever since Baron Praxis toppled the old king Haven City has not been a haven but a prison. Today that will change, for today a new king has appeared among us, someone who is willing and able to guide us back to the glory that was once Haven City and can be so again. He is the one who delivered us from the Metalheads and saved all of our lives by killing their leader in single combat. I give to you the new king of Haven City, King Jak Marr.'

Daxter's eyes shot open in the same instant that nerveless hands dropped the bottle and he nearly choked on a mouth-full of liquid. Tess moved to his side, gently rubbing his back, all three staring in disbelief as Ashelin gestured and the Krimson Guard stepped aside, the two ranks that led up to the throne sweeping outward to reveal the man who stood before it. From somewhere one of the servants had found a suit of armour from before Praxis' rule, his sleek frame dressed in a tight black shirt and trousers, tan metal plates covering half his frame and making him into a figure who truly could have been king.

A breastplate protected his chest, the symbol of Marr etched over his heart in a darker colour, seeming to be made from the seemingly indestructible and unforgeable precursor metal. A wide belt held his rifle and his boots were heavy and solid, functional rather than decorative, the same said for the fore-braces on each of his arms, a heavy shoulder pad protecting his left shoulder, the one that would be exposed when he fired a rifle. There was no helmet to the suit and his eyes stared back at them from under his swept back blonde hair, his goggles replaced by a metal visor that sat easily across his forehead, highlighting his burning blue gaze. He spoke in that low dangerous tone that had been bequeathed him by the Baron's tortures, only recently had it ever been softened but now it was back, and bringing a city to a halt as all stopped to listen to his words.

'I am King Jak Marr and I'm here to get rid of the rot that's infested this city.' Daxter could tell that it was a rehearsed speech and turned off the sound, he wasn't interested in what Ashelin had somehow coaxed him into saying. Instead he took in the sight and let his mind slowly absorb the information, trying to figure out exactly what his partner was up to. His eyes lit up suddenly as he caught sight of Jak's expression. His features bore a smirk that brought one to Daxter's face as he watched the screen, letting a low chuckle escape.

'What's so funny sweetie?' Tess's voice called his eyes to her as she embraced him from behind, sweeping up his small frame to rest it against her cleavage.

He grinned up at her and jerked a thumb toward the screen. 'I know that look. That's the look he gets whenever he's about to do somethin' really, really stupid and really, really impressive. I almost feel sorry for those dweebs up in the palace. They've got no idea what they're up against. Course I'm also really glad that I'm not on his shoulder anymore, I usually ended up with a crispy tail by the end of it.' He let another short laugh through as Tess sympathetically laid a kiss on the top of his head before he turned to Sig, the fighter turning to him as he stroked the gun slung across his back.

'Sig my friend get the other wastelanders together. I got a feeling that there's gonna be some fireworks soon and I want to make sure we're ready to help out my buddy Jak.'

'You da boss lil man.'

~

Samos let a small smile cross his face as he took in the severe expressions on the faces of both Torn and Ashelin, the two watching him carefully from their places around the small table. Lights overhead cast strange shadows across their faces as they illuminated the charts and sheets of data spread across it, the recesses of the round room left in darkness. Ashelin crossed her arms and tried to pin him with her stare as he took his seat but he brushed her displeasure aside, he'd spent a lifetime ignoring far more venomous looks from Daxter.

'Well Samos? Is he on our side or not? I thought you said we could trust him?'

Samos arched an eyebrow at her, toying with his staff as he laid it across his lap. 'I said no such thing Ashelin. I said we could trust him to take care of those who would try to continue in Praxis' ways, I never said we could trust him to do it your way. As for whose side he's on, well, he's on the same side he's always been on, he's on Jak's side. Heck, I'm surprised you were able to get him to wear that armour and make that speech.'

Her armoured fist made a ring of metal on metal as it crashed down onto the table, anger heating her tone. 'That speech? You mean the one were he threw out half of what I'd written down and made it up as he went along? You mean the one were he practically dared the ministers to come out and face him?'

Samos took a sip from the glass of water by his place. 'That would be the one, yes. He doesn't much care for you or this city. All he wants is to be left alone so that he and my daughter can make a life together. Frankly I can't blame him after all that this city's put him through. He doesn't want any innocents to be killed any more than we do, no matter how much he's been changed he won't want a bloodbath but he won't stand for a stand off if you'll pardon the pun. He's got about as much finesse as that gun of Marr's out in the desert and he's just about as unstoppable now that you've brought him into this.'

Torn leaned forward, his face serious and intent, 'So what do we do?'

Samos shrugged, 'Only thing we can, hold on for dear life and follow him till he gets the job done. One way or another, he'll bring this thing to a head, and when he does, him and Keira are gonna be left standing. The rest of us… well we better start making plans to make sure we're with them on top of the pile.'

~

Michaels rarely showed emotion, he prided himself on being able to remain calm in the face of just about anything. But even he could not stop the sweat that beaded on his skin at the visage before him. He swallowed noisily, clasping his hands tight in front of him in order to resist the temptation to fidget. The voice was familiar and yet dreadfully, terribly new at the same time, the same, sneering, confident note swelling it but a gravelled undertone to it, a terrible new edge that sent a shiver down his spine. The figure shifted on the table as the tubes and wires that ran into his body pulsed with energy.

'So the ambush failed?'

Michael steadied his voice before he answered, trying to hide his nerves behind years of experience. 'Yes, losses were total, those loyal to the usurper lost perhaps a dozen dead and that again wounded.'

The figure growled, one mutilated arm tensed for a moment and the restraint shattered as it swept upward, clawing through the air as a sharp bark of anger split the silence of the small, dim chamber. The arm turned first this way then that, the figure admiring it, the new strength in it, then the voice was back. 'I saw the transmission earlier today. Why was nothing done to prevent that boy from making such false claims?'

Michael swallowed, 'He… he would have killed me had I intervened, any of us. He… he refuses to be diverted from his course. If we acted to stop him… the situation would explode. We'd be forced to battle it out. We cannot be sure that we would win, especially not now that he has joined them. If we attacked him… he would massacre us.'

A cruel, harsh laughter bubbled from the creature's throat. 'Weaklings, feeble-minded oafs. In a day's time there will be no more need for this hiding. The treatments are almost complete.' The equipment in the room pulsed once more, the figure tensing as a stifled hiss of agony seethed from between clenched teeth. He relaxed against the table once more, ragged pants raking his body before he lay still once more, swallowing before speaking. 'Ready the Elite, tomorrow, we take the palace, put my plan into action and by tomorrow you will not have to worry about Jak Marr, for he will be mine.' The voice rose to a growl at the last, the single free hand clenching in a sudden spasm of power, claws growing as burnt flesh knitted and sealed. Michaels tried not to run as he left the chamber, when he had first arrived Michaels had barely been able to believe he was alive, now… it was worse, whatever the transformation was… it was worse. 

~

Jak sighed as he shut the door behind him, letting his shoulders slump as he found himself finally free of the clerks and sycophantic ministers that had hounded him since his arrival. Some of them had been genuine in their support, others not, all had been irritating. Still, he was happy with the way the day had gone, from that first time in the council chamber he'd been able to keep an iron grip on the palace, keeping his orders simple and to the point, daring any of the ministers to openly defy him. It had been hard, keeping them always in range of his rifle so that they could not hide any opposition and dared not express it where he could see but he'd done it. He had a list of those that were responsible for the attack, some he knew for certain, others merely suspects, the trick would be taking out the guilty parties without starting a war.

He gripped the ornate handles tightly for a moment before sliding the bolt on the doors into place, turning to rest his back against it, feeling the ornate decorations etched into the metal press against him through his shirt. The chambers Ashelin had given to him were huge, a massive bedroom off to one side with a bathroom leading off it, the main room large enough to fit Keira's entire apartment into. It was decorated sparsely but with good taste, clean efficient lines to the wooden furniture, the material of the curtains and cushions the deep, rich red of the Krimson Guard, a contrast to the light walls.

He pulled his shirt off over his head as he moved across the room, not bothering to undo the buttons as he cast it aside, his mind if not his body exhausted by all that he had done that day. He pushed the door to his bedroom open as he kicked off his boots, his eyes flickering around the chamber. It was more opulent than the front had been, tapestries of some ancient precursor machine on either side of the huge four-poster bed. He reached for his belt buckle as he took in the inviting softness of the bed before something stirred under the covers, his eyes widening as a lithe form sat up in surprise, green hair swaying around green eyes as Keira met his gaze.

He'd left her in Torn's care when he and Ashelin had gone to ensure that their advantage was not lost and he said that he'd put her in a room near his. He'd wanted to ask which but the veteran had strode away before his tired mind could form the words. Jak's eyes narrowed as he took in the red rims around her eyes and the sadness on her face, he'd always been able to read her and right now she was frightened, the emotion edged with more than a little grief.

'Keira, what's the matter?' She stood, the blanket falling away to reveal her feminine figure clad only in a small vest and a pair of plain white panties. The only answer to his question was a small sound of tearful relief as she moved, almost running across the room to throw herself into his arms, her slim frame pressing against him as she shut her eyes tightly as though warding off tears. Her arms surrounded him as she kissed his chest, her eyes rising to take him in. He saw an aftermath of fear in her gaze and cupped her chin gently, soothing her slowly as he let his free arm slip around her waist, the troubles of the day forgotten.

'What's wrong Keira? I thought Torn put you in a different room?'

She nodded slowly, a faint blush rising in her cheeks as though she were ashamed of what she was about to confess, turning away from him as her eyes searched the floor but her arms never leaving his torso. 'He did… it was another room like this but… I couldn't sleep. I was lying there on that big bed… and… I just thought of how lonely it felt,' her eyes turned up to him, the time in Sandover they had spent talking only with their eyes letting him see, pure unsullied emotion there, 'of how it reminded me of all the time that we'd spent apart. I couldn't sleep knowing that you'd be so far away from me. This palace is so big Jak… there's so many people that want to drag you away and I don't want to be alone here… I don't want to loose you in a place this big.'

He hushed her with a gentle kiss, one hand undoing the buckle on his belt to cast aside his holster, the weapon within forgotten as he cursed himself for a fool. After the fear that he had seen in her on the way to the palace, after the attack, after the pain he'd caused her, he'd tossed her aside. He was in this palace to ensure that he could find peace and yet had been ignoring the only thing that could give it to him. He tightened his grip around her waist, his other hand returning to run up her flank, tracing the curve of her hip to pull her close, laying her head against his shoulder as he bit back his anger at himself.

'Oh God Keira I'm sorry. I didn't realise… I shouldn't have let you go.' This time it was her that silenced him, a smile on her face as her body recognised the feel and warmth of his, the fear melting from her as she felt that familiar shared need that bonded them so closely. Her lips closed softly over his, her tongue darting out to taste his skin before she stood on her tip-toes, her slender body arching against him as she rested her cheek upon his.

'It's okay. Now that you're here… I'm okay. Just… just please don't leave me again. I don't want to loose you, I don't want you to loose yourself.' Her words brought an understanding smile to his face as he gazed into her eyes, watching the lights overhead glint in their emerald depths. She was not scared for herself, she was scared for him, she knew that without her he had been a slave to his anger and she was terrified that by separating himself from her that he would become so again, that he would loose himself. The understanding brought a fresh wave of emotion surging through him, the fog of the day lifting from his mind as he let his mouth trace kisses down the graceful arch of her neck, letting his actions speak for him. His lips rose to move along the taper of her ear and let him catch the scent of her hair, the two simply embracing, re-establishing their bond as they had that morning.

Her hands slowly helped him out of his trousers to leave him dressed only in his black boxers, no passion in the movements but simply a want to feel him, skin to skin. He stepped out of them as the pooled around his ankles, his arms lifting her effortlessly to cradle her against his chest as he moved to the bed. He laid her gently back into her place, the linen already warmed by her body as he slid in next to her. As he pulled the coverlet back over them both she embraced him once more, pulling him close to lay her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat slow as she soothed her hands over his muscles, remembering all the times she had felt them around her. 

A contented smile crossed her face as he relaxed at her touch, the tension of the day easing from him as he held her. She shifted, moving up him to lay her head on his shoulders, closing her eyes as she let the rise and fall of his chest rock her gently. 

'I was jealous you know…' He looked down at her, surprise crossing his features for a moment, 'of you and Ashelin… when she dragged you off and you spent all that time together I… I was really jealous. I know it was stupid but… we'd been apart for so long and what with the way she acted towards you in my garage… I was worried. I mean… she is…'

She trailed off as he smiled down at her, mirth twinkling in his eyes. An embarrassed smile crossed her face as she realised how foolish her fears were and she turned from him, staring out the glass doors that led onto the balcony, the lights in the room drowning out the stars above but not the glow of the city below.

'So… what did you do in there anyway?'

He sighed and sat up, running one hand through his hair. 'She was teaching me to be a king would you believe. Told me all about how the palace runs and about who I need to watch out for. Then she said she'd kick me through a wall if I ever pull something like that again.' A smile flitted across both their faces before he continued. 'It's all a bit much, I never planned on doing this, any of this. I was just going to come here to the palace, kick a few ministers about and then go back to the garage with you… but now, I've become a king.' He let out a mirthless laugh. 'I don't know how to be a king.'

Keira sat up beside him, watching him as he stared at the opposite wall. 'You know how to be Jak… that's enough.'

He smiled wryly at her words, 'I know how to be a bully, at the moment that's all Ashelin needs out of the king so I guess it'll do. But I promise you Keira, I'll stop these people. I won't let anything happen to you.'

She claimed his lips with a kiss, 'I know you won't but please, don't let anything happen to you either, I need you Jak.'

'I need you too Keira.' It was strange to say the words but they were true, it was beyond what he'd thought love could be like, beyond what they'd had before. He needed her like he needed air, to him she was life. To her, he was no less.

A.N. I decided to end it here because I felt it was a good reflection upon the current mood of the two protagonists of the story. Please tell me what you think of the twists that have occurred in this chapter and once again I do extend an invitation to be notified by me once an update is made. Anyway, until next time,

Go with God

The Visionary


	4. Battle Joined

****

A.N. I really cannot apologise enough for the extraordinary amount of time it has taken me to produce this chapter but unfortunately my life in college has been a nightmare. After a round of major exams at the end of January I've been chasing coursework deadlines ever since and I'm only just beginning to get on top of them. Fortunately however I have managed to write this chapter and to make up for the huge wait I've put some extra effort in and made it almost triple the length of the last three. I sincerely hope that the effort was worth it and that you enjoy it as much as you have the last three. I'd really like to thank you for all the support you've given this story, your reviews are the only thing that keep me writing at times like this. Anyway, here's the latest chapter, enjoy.

The Visionary.

Chapter 4-

Battle Joined

A week had gone by since Jak had arrived at the palace, the city's engineers rebuilding as Ashelin used his authority to put her plans into action. For his part he had not been idle. Though he would be the first to admit he was inexperienced at the game of politics he knew first hand how easy it was to overcome politics with brute force and had begun to do so with gusto. Almost before Ashelin had realised what he was doing he had imprisoned a half dozen ministers and almost a score of the elite guard, the charges ranging from high treason to simple theft. He'd been careful though, cornering each of them alone and marching them to their cells with a full escort of two dozen crimson guard. Almost double that watched over their prison cells day and night. Even Torn and Samos, each a stalwart critic of Jak's abilities had to admit that he had done well.

However, these victories had put those who would see him dead on alert, Michaels and the others all treading carefully, the tension in the palace heightening to breaking point. There was something else as well, an undercurrent of activity that both Jak and Ashelin struggled to grasp, small traces and movements that were out of the ordinary, hinting at something, something big. But for all of this Jak was not deterred, if anything the hint of open battle was an encouragement. He wanted to bring them out into the open, were he could see them, where he could fight them. But despite all of this the groups of each side still circled each other cautiously. Daily, Krimson Regulars and Krimson Elite patrols faced off from opposite corridors, each daring the other to make an open show of defiance that would break the spell that had seemed to settle over the palace and start the battle.

Jak had kept Keira close beside him since that first day, not only because of what they had said to each other that first night in the palace but also because it was the best way to protect her. If anything had ever happened to her because of him, he would have never forgiven himself. She shared his chambers and his bed, those guards whom Ashelin had assigned to be his royal guard learning quickly that wherever Jak went Keira followed, he'd almost broken the arm of one man who had pushed her roughly from the palace control room.

They slept together now in the chambers that Ashelin had given him, the sheets on their gently but regally carved four-poster bed a soft pale blue to match Keira's tastes rather than his own. But he was happy enough to let her have what small comforts she could in the tense, cautious atmosphere of the palace. The rest of the rooms in the chambers which could only be described as a large apartment reflected in many ways the fact that but for the times at which they were asleep he and Keira spent very little time in their chambers. The furniture was clean and utilitarian but of undeniable quality, every piece made of strong and weathered oak stained a dark mahogany by years of use. The morning sun however lightened them slightly, giving them a little of their natural pale tint back as the two sleeping in the room awoke.

Jak's eyes opened slowly, the sunlight sluicing through a gap in the curtains to hit his eyes as the sun rose. He closed his eyes again for a moment as the light blinded him, blinking to clear his vision as he let his senses take in the unfamiliar surroundings. His attention was pulled back to the bed as the slim figure in his arms stirred, her curved figure fitting snugly against him as her arms tightened around him in sleep. He smiled and pushed a stray strand of her green hair behind her ear, smiling as her button nose twitched at his touch, an incoherent mumble rising from her full lips, enjoying the moments of her company without full consciousness bringing him the worries of his current life.

Sleep retreated enough for him to wonder what had awoken him, it was not usually the case that he simply awoke for no reason. Recently he had far too often been called to waking by danger. The experiences had taught him to sleep with a pistol under his pillow and his fingers edged toward the one he had stowed beneath the soft white pillows of this bed, his ears twitching as they sought out some sound that could account for his reveille

Footsteps reached his ears from the door outside and he wrapped his fingers around the slim grip of the weapon, his thumb gently slipping the safety off as he shifted his grip on Keira, ready to throw himself between her and the door should an assassin lie beyond it. The footsteps were silent, gentle, their owner obviously not wishing to make themselves noticed. The tiny speck of light that shone through the key-hole was snuffed out as something was pushed into it and Jak heard the unmistakable sound of the old but solid lock clicking open. 

As the handle turned he smoothly drew the pistol out as he sat against the headboard, lining up the sights with where the head of someone standing behind the door should have been. Yet as the door opened an assassin did not burst in nor was it one of Jak's allies. Instead it was timidly cracked open, a frightened cry quickly stifled as the person beyond found the barrel of his gun pointed at them, a child-like quality to the sound.

Jak blinked in surprise as he found himself staring at a short, slim girl, her pointed ears emerging from a full head of dark, blonde curls, her face still bearing some of the softness of childhood and marking her as no more than perhaps thirteen or fourteen. She wore a demure but fine white dress, the material shimmering like silk as she dropped a distressed curtsy, lowering her eyes nervously as she tripped over her words.

'Y… Your majesty I… I'm sorry. I did not realise that you would be awake…'

Jak mouthed a soundless "o" before he regained his senses and lowered the gun in his hand, casting it back under his pillow. 'I… no… I'm sorry, I thought… uh… who are you?'

The girl seemed to flinch at his voice and curtsied again, her nerves clearly visible despite her attempts to hide them. 'Please your majesty, I'm just a servant. I was sent to wake you, I didn't realise that you'd not want to be disturbed.'

Her voice held a frantic note that made it seem louder than it was, her words waking Keira as she stirred beside him, her eyes opening as she stretched languidly, as yet unaware of the new arrival. She blinked the sleep away from her eyes as she saw Jak's eyes flick to her before travelling back to the doorway, the fact that he only glanced at her enough to tell her that something was wrong. She sat up, her eyes widening as they met the suddenly terrified gaze of a young girl, snatching the blanket closer as it threatened to fall away from her bare breasts.

The youngster blushed bright red but at the same time seemed to foresee some terrible fate, her ears twitching nervously as she struggled to remain still, fighting the urge to run. 'Oh! I… I'm so sorry your majesty, I didn't realise that… that you were…'

Keira slipped a hand around Jak's bicep, calling his eyes to her as she took in the frightened young girl. 'Jak? Jak what's going on?'

He squeezed her hand gently, quieting her as he held out his other to the young girl, his voice softer than usual as he tried to calm the youngster. 'It's okay, you don't have to worry. I'm not mad at you or anything. Now who are you?'

His words seemed to calm her a little, her eyes loosing their cornered look for a moment before she bobbed another curtsy, her cheeks flushing bright red as she searched the floor for inspiration, 'I'm only a servant your Majesty. The Governor sent me to wake you. Please… please don't be angry with me, I don't want to be beaten.'

Jak's eyes narrowed and Keira recognised the outrage in him as his jaw tightened. Despite all that had been done to him Jak's wish to right what he saw as wrong was still strong, still what made him Jak. Only now he was a little more forceful in seeing justice done. 'What? What makes you think you'd be beaten?'

She seemed to mistake his anger as being meant for her and shook as she spoke, sounding close to tears. 'When… whenever we displeased the Baron your Majesty we would be beaten so as to learn not to do it again. Please don't send me to be beaten your Majesty, I promise I won't wake you again.'

Jak calmed her again, schooling his face to stillness as he let Keira's hand on his shoulder soothe his temper. 'Who beat you?'

'The guards your Majesty, the Baron or his ministers send us away with one of his elite and they beat us with their fire-lances until we learn our lesson.'

A storm built inside him but Jak kept it in, storing that anger for later, when he had a target for it. He forced himself to deal with the current situation first, a friendly smile edging its way onto his face as he beckoned the girl forward, her feet shuffling slowly toward him. 'What's your name?'

'Samantha, your Majesty.' She replied quietly, a note of hope entering her voice.

'Call me Jak, Samantha, I don't like titles, and don't worry, from now on you won't be beaten, not by anybody. I'll tell all of the guards today that they're not to touch you or the other servants, if anybody hits you, you come and tell me and I'll deal with them. Okay?'

A smile broke onto Samantha's face, her voice musical now that it held a happy note. 'Oh thank you your Majesty. Thank you, I… the servants all knew you'd be better than the Baron.'

Jak ignored the use of his title as he returned her smile, 'By the way, thank you for waking me Samantha, tell Ashe… tell the Governor that I'll be out in a minute.'

She bobbed another curtsy, 'Yes your Majesty, if you or your… your lady would like to bathe a bath has already been run for you.' With that she was gone, scurrying from the doorway as Jak turned his eyes to Keira, her eyes watching him with a strange curiosity before she turned and lay back against him, staring at the ceiling silently for a moment. 'Jak, do you think there'll ever be a time when you can feel safe without a pistol under your pillow?' He looked down at her, his arms circling her waist. As she rested her head in the crook of his neck he drew in a deep breath, her question calling up all the changes that had occurred in him since he had come to Haven City. Finally he answered her, a hint of sadness in his voice. 

'I don't know Keira… I really don't. With everything that's happened to me, everything that I've done… I'm not who I used to be. I'm not the man you loved in Sandover… this place… it's turned me into a monster, literally.'

She whirled in his arms to face him, hurt in her tone as her eyes shone with sudden tears. 'You can't believe that…'

Jak seemed ashamed of his words as he looked away from her, running a hand through his hair, 'You said it yourself. When I'm angry… I become a monster… I change.'

A tear spilled from her eyes as she looked up at him as though he had just slapped her, her memory recalling when almost those exact words had come from her lips. 'You… you think I meant that? Jak… please… please tell me you don't believe that's what I think. I was scared, all alone in this place and when you came back to me you weren't you and I was… I…' Emotion took her voice as she suddenly began crying in earnest. They had never spoken of the words that had been exchanged in her garage but neither had forgotten it. 'Please Jak… please don't believe that. You're not a monster… I could never think those things about you, not the real you… please…'

He silenced her by pulling her close in a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to her temple as he frantically began to reply, the sight and sound of her tears tearing at his insides. 'No… no, not even for a second I swear Keira, never. But… it's inside me… I can feel it. I have been changed.'

She looked up at him, her eyes shining wetly as she sniffed back her tears. For a moment she simply watched him, watched the pain on his face as he realised he had caused her hurt. Then she sat up, straddling him as she cupped his face with both hands bringing her own so close that his breath stirred the loose strands of hair that hung around her face.

'Do you remember what I said to you the first night we shared this bed Jak? I told you that I would never let you loose yourself, not to this palace and not to whatever demons they put inside you. I love you so much that it hurts and I know that you feel the same. How could a monster ever love like that? You're not a monster Jak, you never were. You were always my Jak, always the man I loved, I just didn't realise it until it was almost too late.' She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, closing her eyes for a moment as she drew it out, letting him feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. 'I won't let anything happen to you Jak.' 

They both knew what she meant. Though protecting their relationship from physical harm would always be his responsibility his soul was a fragile thing. That was hers to treasure and protect, hers to shield from the doubts and fears that haunted it and the darkness that tried to consume it.

He lay back against the pillows, gazing up at her as her hands stayed upon his face, tenderly stroking his cheeks as she smiled down at him. 'Thank you Keira.'

He sat up once more and wrapped his arms around her, embracing her softly as they reaffirmed their bond after the brief gulf. It was rare for Jak's wounded heart to surface but when it did both of them felt this need once she had soothed it, the need to be close once more, to ensure that nothing of the gap remained. For a time neither of them spoke, content simply to share the warmth of their bodies as outside the window Haven City began to come alive.

Eventually Jak sat back and smiled at her, his hands resting gently upon her shoulders. 'Come on, we'd better get dressed and be off. Ashelin'll have a fit if we take much longer.'

Ashelin was waiting for them when they came out. Jak had had little use for finery as he grew but Ashelin had insisted that he at least make an attempt at appearing regal. As such he had pulled on a finely cut but loose black shirt and tucked it into a new holster-belt, this one of a shiny new black leather rather than his battle-scarred and worn old one. With it he wore a pair of long dark trousers that were cut like combats but had an edge of respectability to them, an effect added to by the strong black boots he wore. Keira positively revelled in the chance to dress in noble clothing. For all the time that she had spent as a mechanic in grease-stained overalls she had always loved being able to cast it aside occasionally and dress up, a little of what small vanity she possessed showing in the obvious glee with which she had greeted her extensive wardrobe. 

For her part she wore a high-necked dress of something shimmering and silky in a light ocean blue. It was cut in a traditional style around the bodice, accentuating her full bust and the curve of her shoulders before travelling down her arms, ribbons of black and white intertwined down each sleeve. But there was evidence of modern daring in the outfit too, a split up to the thigh on each side allowing her total freedom of movement but the black leggings she wore beneath enough to stop the dress from appearing flirtatious rather than simply beautiful. As the two emerged, Jak exchanging a nod with the guards who watched over his door every night Ashelin raised an eyebrow as she watched his hands do up the last few buttons on his shirt. 

'Well, Samantha seemed flustered when she came out but I'd no idea she'd caught you two in-flagrente delicto.' Jak gave her a deadpan stare as Keira scowled at her, a small measure of the enmity and jealousy she had held for the Governor never really fading since she had flirted so outrageously with Jak.

Jak turned to her, dressed in her usual combination of battle-armour and noble finery, 'What do you want Ashelin? I'm busy.'

Ashelin's face turned serious, 'Oh yes I'm sure, arresting politicians and Krimson Elite without my leave?'

Jak interrupted her, one hand resting on his rifle as he spoke, 'Yes actually, doing what you couldn't. You asked me to come here and sort out your mess and that's what I'm doing. If you don't like the way I'm doing things then that's too bad.'

If Ashelin was stung by his words she hid it well, she had come to know the truth of Samos' words in the past week, Jak was not on her side. She was a means to an end, like Krew had been and while he certainly saw her as more of an ally than he had the gangster, he was never even for a minute working for her. If anything she had begun working for him.

Her voice was tight as she answered him, the slightest hint of a tremble in her hand as she rose it to brush away a lock of hair away from her eyes betraying how little she liked that fact. 'You're right, I don't like what you're doing. But it's working anyway so I'm happy to let you continue. For now though we've got more important matters. Follow me.'

As she turned away she heard Jak's footsteps close behind her Keira's by his side as she led him to the same conference room where she, Samos and Torn had so often spoken in the last week. As they walked a phalanx of Krimson Guard formed up behind them, an escort that Ashelin had assigned to be with Jak at all times not only to allow him to more effectively intimidate the nobles but also to allow her to keep an eye on him. Yet they fell away as the three stepped into the small chamber, forming a barrier outside to deter any listeners. Jak stubbornly refused to think of the soldiers as loyal to him despite all their attention to his safety and in an attempt to appease him Ashelin had taken to calling them troops loyal to Haven City. But as she turned to face him he knew that this discussion would be more important by far.

As the lights dimmed and the holoscreen in the centre of the table sprang into life Jak recognised the image as map of Haven city, each major building neighboured by a few lines of information, contour maps and landscape code added to the countryside beyond. As Ashelin sat by the control panel and pressed a button a half dozen dots appeared on the northern perimeter.

'What is it?' Jak leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he recognised the region as dead town.

'Metalheads, from what we could see of their behaviour they were scouts for a larger force. The guards that reported them were loyal so we know for a fact that it's not a hoax.'

Jak frowned, 'What? But their army was scattered, almost two thirds of 'em died in the city and the wastelanders have been hunting the rest of them down ever since. Dax's boys alone have bagged almost a hundred. How the hell could they have got organised enough to have any sort of attack force that could threaten Haven City. Without their leader they're barely even smart enough to run when we start shooting let alone set up a scouting force.'

Ashelin nodded, 'I know, Torn's organising an attack force to man the walls there in case they try anything but I've got a feeling that there's something else going on here.'

Jak stared at the city map for a moment, 'If they really are smart enough to try scouting our defences then they're also smart enough to try tricking us. The metalheads hate the toxic water in Dead Town as much as we do. They wouldn't try moving a big force through there. I reckon they'll come from the west, they always did like the precursor ruins out there. Talk to Samos, ask him to try and use his eco spells, maybe the plants can tell him if they're that close to Haven Forest.'

Ashelin switched her gaze from the map to him and then back again before she nodded in agreement, he after all had had more dealings with the monsters than most, probably than anyone. 'Okay, I'll talk to him. You'd better be right about this Jak, we don't have the resources to keep the palace secure and man the whole of the town's perimeter.'

Jak rose and turned from her, 'When we find them don't bother sending all your men. I'll go and take a few dozen guard with me depending on the size of the attack force. That'll free up enough to keep you and Keira safe here in the palace while I take care of business.' Ashelin did not miss the glance that passed between the two, deciding that her part in this was finished she nodded, before turning to leave the room.

'Alright. I'll get Samos to find them and let you know.' In the meantime feel free to keep arresting anyone you can get away with. But be careful, when I saw Michaels this morning there was something about him that I didn't like. He was cocky, arrogant, more so than usual anyway. They've got something up their sleeve Jak.'

Jak stood and laid a hand on her shoulder, calling her eyes back to him, 'That's why I need you to take care of Keira for me.' Both women looked at him with surprise in their eyes, the unexpected request contrary to every impulse that Jak had shown so far.

Keira threaded her arm through his, pulling him close as she looked into his eyes. 'What? But Jak, I'm safer with you than with anyone else!'

He turned to her and gently held her, his hands lying on her shoulders as he spoke, 'Keira, I can protect you from anything that I can fight. Anything that I can see coming will never touch you. But you know as well as I do that I don't know how to do things here in the palace. What I've been doing in the palace is what I was doing out on the streets and if it was out there I know how they'd react, know where the attack was coming from, know how to protect you. But in here, I don't know those things. She does.

'If… when the metalheads attack she and Torn go out to fight them I might as well be blind in here. They could come for me with the whole of the elite and I'd never see it until it was too late. Ashelin, she knows how to read things in here. She and Torn can protect you better than I can.' He turned from Keira, his gaze piercing Ashelin. 'You will protect her.' It was something between a request and an order but Ashelin nodded in reply.

'Yes, I'll protect her. Torn and I might actually be able to use the attack to strengthen our position here if you don't take more than about a fifty guard. Since you're technically the head of state the elite can be ordered to back you up. I'll issue them with ground vehicles and they'll be stuck in the city traffic for hours. More than enough time for us to totally secure the palace unless they try something in which case we'll have them penned up in their barracks anyway.'

Jak nodded, turning once more to Keira, 'When I go, stay with Samos, Torn and Ashelin will look after you both and I'll come to you when I get back.' There was a moment of silence as they stared into one another's eyes. 'This will all be over soon Keira. I promise.'

She nodded and forced a small smile, remembering all too clearly the dread that had clutched at her heart every time she watched him leave her to go and fight. Even when they had argued every report of casualties in the underground, of fire-fights between "terrorists" and the Krimson Guard had left her sobbing with relief when she learned that Jak was not among the dead. Ashelin watched them for a moment before she turned to leave, calling back over her shoulder as the couple embraced.

'I'll be in touch Jak.'

~

Jak had been right, but a greater sense of urgency could have been given to Ashelin's counter-measures. The metalheads attacked before Samos had even begun his spells and Torn's attack force was only half-complete when the alarm bells went off. But the Krimson Guard had spent years as a ready response force against invasions and the alarms did not bring them to panic, adding only an extra factor of speed to their preparations as Torn's commands rose to a bellow. Their military efficiency served them well and a half dozen carriers rose from the palace docks not five minutes after the wall guards sounded the alarm, each filled with a squad of ten Krimson Guard.

The lead carrier was one designed for battle command, the twin rows of seats with their heavy harnesses for fully-armoured troops lined each side as in the other four but at the head, between the cockpit and the hold was a seat designed for an officer. Jak sat in it, facing the ten Krimson Regulars, each of them quite with his own thoughts as a holoscreen showed Jak what data had been gathered by the wall sensors. Normally the eco-energy pulsing through the walls would have fried any metal-head attempting to cross that boundary. But after all the damage of the last battle there were vast sections of the wall unpowered and the metalheads had been able to smash through one of the gates and invade the farming sector. 

He'd lashed on what little of his armour he'd been bothered to keep at hand and now wore the sleek breastplate over his clothes, thankful that at least his rifle was ready at hand. He raised his eyes from the holoscreen as the carrier lurched forward and pushed him against the straps of his harness, his gaze settling on the palace as the carriers began their journey. For a moment he feared he had made the wrong decision in leaving Keira to her father's care with only Ashelin and Torn to ensure their safety but he pushed the thought aside. Samos loved his daughter as much as Jak did, he would lay down his life before he saw harm come to her. Besides, the Krimson Guard loyal to Haven still outnumbered the two hundred or so elite that were loyal to Michaels almost two to one in the palace. 

Haven City had been a city under siege for so long that it had become totally self-sufficient, a huge part of this independence came from the farming sector in the West of the city. As the fields came into view Jak took in the half dozen square miles of the city made up of wide fields of crops, machines and drones moving among them with mechanical precision as they tended to the city's food source. At first it all seemed in order, the flow of traffic through the wide streets that divided the fields moving at a steady if swift pace.

But as they neared the high walls of the city it became evident that the attack was serious. The warning sirens blared out the alarm and sent the few citizenry in the area scurrying for their vehicles, as the glow of red shone from every computer terminal in the area, text scrolling across the screens to echo the warnings being delivered over the loud-speakers. Another few moments and the cause of the distress could be seen as the carriers swooped low over the city, the whine of their engines momentarily blocking out the alarms as panicked overseers abandoned their posts and the machines under their supervision.

The carrier's scanners picked out the metalheads from the crops and livestock, displaying a headcount on the screen in front of Jak, the data drawing a satisfied nod from him. These were only basic fighter drones, perhaps only a dozen combat creatures among the two hundred or so that had made it through the wall so far, it would not take long to cleanse them. His voice rose in command, the Krimson Guard looking to him for direction as the carriers hovered above the road, watching the approaching menace.

'We'll be jumping straight from the carriers. There are only two large routes leading to the breach and the metalheads are being funnelled down them. The last three carriers will take the North route and the other two will take the South. Drop down ahead of their advance and stop it dead, then push them back through the hole. Stay in a rank and move forward slowly, don't let them get close enough for hand to hand. These are just drones so if you keep em far, they won't touch you. Now come on! Let's kill us some Metalheads!' He heard a confident peal of laughter from the Krimson Guard as his orders were transmitted and the carriers peeled away in two directions to obey his orders. He allowed himself a small smile, and to think, not a month ago these men would have shot him on sight.

Then, with dizzying speed the carrier span and opened its rear doors almost five metres in the air, sunlight flooding in as the Krimson Guard disengaged the harnesses strapping them into their chairs and surged through the opening. They leapt from the open bays as before them the street swarmed with dark shapes, all but the most unfortunate civilians already gone from the battle ground as the guttural language of the metalheads rang out. Each guard hit the ground rolling and came up firing, their fire lances flaring again and again as they covered for those still leaping from the craft. Jak was among them, hitting the ground in a roll and coming up on one knee, his rifle already held tight to his shoulder.

The carriers had dropped them barely fifty metres ahead of the metalhead advance but though they outnumbered the Krimson Guard they were scattered, no coherency or drive guiding the attack and though they rushed toward the defenders with ravenous glee, if did them little good. Jak all but ignored the Krimson Guard around him as he sought his first target, he was used to fighting alone and fought as though he was, retreating into his own, private battle as the red laser glimmered into life on the forehead of one of the creatures.

His shot punched it from its feet as it took it in the chest and he swung his sights across in a smooth arc, his finger squeezing the trigger again and again as his first volley claimed four lives. It was an odd sight to see creatures that had once been so feared in the city being decimated so swiftly as the Krimson Sergeants roared out the order to fire but the metalheads fought with no intelligence, throwing themselves at the Guard and straight into their shots. As each squad obeyed Jak's orders and formed coherent ranks the wide streets and carefully cultivated verges became suddenly lit up with glittering beams of fire and eco as the battle commenced. The first volley slammed home and unearthly screams rose, drowning out the staccato cacophony of gunshots as the metalhead drones were blasted back by the organised Krimson Guard.

They advanced at a steady measured pace, stepping over twisted bodies, the malevolent glow gone from their eyes as the metalheads were cut down. Jak frowned as he easily blew a hole through another of the beasts, the one behind it screaming as two Krimson Guard fire lances burned through its torso. Something was wrong, this was like shooting rabbits, the metalheads were fighting like wild animals, like they had been fighting since he had killed their leader. There was no way these creatures would have been smart enough to try and trick the city, it was a miracle they had ever made it through the wall even if its advanced defences were shut down.

He needed to finish this quickly and get back to the palace. There was something going on here. Gritting his teeth in preparation for the strain to come he shifted his grip on the rifle and twisted the stock until he heard a click and the almost magical transformation of the morph-gun once again twisted in his hands with a complex oiliness that made it seem almost alive. As it settled on a new form he planted his feet and a high pitched whine suddenly formed a background to the battle as blue eco streamed through the machinery and the barrels began rotating, cycling up to full speed ready for…

The gatling blaster was a weapon from Marr's time, Jak's ancestor's genius with eco and technology allowing him to create a weapon that had not been matched for pure destructive potential. As far as Jak knew his was the only one in the whole of Haven City. So the Krimson Guard could be forgiven for diving for cover as it unleashed its thunderous roar and the air suddenly became filled with countless evil blue slivers.

They tore into the metalhead advance, dirt, plants and rock exploding as his attack let loose a solid wall of fire that decimated everything in front of him. Jak gritted his teeth as he let the blaster travel a slow arc across the road, his muscles straining to hold it as the forces unleashed by the machine threatened to tear it from his hands. Spent cartridges littered the road as he continued to fire, the terrible power of his gun killing every enemy for almost a half kilometre ahead of them. Spurts of dirt marked the path of its destruction from each knot of enemy to the next, the whine of shrapnel or soft thud of plant matter sounding whenever a stray round tore at a wall or shredded the crops. But far more often there was the sharp "prang" of metal yielding to some unstoppable force as his bullets sliced into the metalhead drones. As he released the trigger an awed hush followed broken only by the whirr of the blaster's barrels as they wound down and Jak's panting breaths as the strain of using such a weapon took its toll.

But with that one action he had all but won the battle. The metalheads, even without their leader's influence to give them intelligence still had at least a little of the self-preservation that nature gave to everything and after Jak's display it was enough to send them running, leaving almost a hundred of their number dead, fifty of them were Jak's kills. He broke into a run as they fled, the Krimson Guard at his back as the com spoke of a similar retreat by those on the Northern route.

The last of the creatures disappeared through the gate just as Jak's group climbed the ramp, a volley of fire-lance shots cutting down two stragglers as the creatures disappeared into the undergrowth beyond the gate. But Jak was not interested in them. Instead he had turned his attention to the gate controls. In order to move about the city he had learned to hack through the gate controls and had a crude but effective understanding of how they worked. It served him well as he accessed the computer's memory logs.

Behind him the second group of Krimson Guard arrived and the cheers of victory began but he ignored them as he stood up, his eyes wide with sudden realisation. Snatching a com unit from one of the guards he tried for the palace, switching frequencies to every band as he tried desperately to make contact, to find proof that his suspicions were wrong. There was none, they were jamming the long-range communications. He was right. 'Call the carriers in now! We have to get back to the palace.' As the carriers swept down from the sky Jak sent up a silent prayer as he clenched his teeth, he'd only been gone a half hour. What could have happened in a half hour?

~

The once pristine halls of the palace were now the sight of a bloody battle, the long hallways scarred with trails melted into the walls by fire lances, lavish tapestries and lush decorations left broken and burning by the terrible conflict. Fighting at such close quarters was a brutal mix of bloody hand to hand and near-point blank shoot-outs that left dozens dead on each side. Dead and wounded littered the halls, some with the golden armour of the Krimson Elite but more, far more with the dark, scarlet armour of the Krimson Regulars. Truth be told it was hard to tell as gun-flashes all but blinded combatants and the thick, acrid smoke of fires mingled with the vapours of explosions into a battle-fog that gave a surreal edge to the whole scene.

Torn was in the thick of the fighting and swore as a grenade detonated, sending a shower of shrapnel and debris down the corridor. The flash and noise drove him away from the corner that had given him shelter as all around him the halls of the palace echoed to the din of gunfire and the screams of the wounded. He spat grit and snarled, hefting the pistol in his hand, it was one Ashelin had given to him back when he'd been an officer in the Krimson Guard, it still was his favourite, clean smooth lines with a slim, deadly look to them.

He stepped out from the alcove that had protected him and snapped off a shot as the bright armour of the Krimson Elite marked them aside from the Krimson Regulars that still fought for him in the bitter melee that had erupted throughout the palace. He was rewarded with a horrible sound as his shot took an elite in the throat, sending him to the floor as Torn drew his knife and almost casually sank it into the belly of a second elite that rushed out of a side passage.

He turned and sent three more shots into a group of elite as they charged across the hall, the action enough to draw their wrath as one of their number went down. He swore as a fire-lance bolt hissed past his ear, diving for cover as he sent a grenade spinning into the middle of their group, the blast killing one but their heavy armour meaning that most of them survived. As a group of regulars darted out of another hall they forgot about Torn and a new fire-fight erupted.

Torn made them pay for turning their backs and two more of their number died by his hand before he moved on, racing through the maze of corridors and chambers that was the Haven Palace. He moved with a practised ease, fighting as long years of experience had taught him, not taking any chances but inflicting as much damage as he could on the enemy before he finally reached his objective.

As he turned the corner he let a smirk cross his face as he was forced to duck and two Krimson Elite flew over his head, twin bolts of green eco propelling them into the wall which they hit with a sickening crunch. He raised his eyes to take in a grim faced Samos as he stood in the entrance to one of the palace bedrooms. He looked oddly formidable for one so frail as his large, knobbly hands gripped his staff with obvious strength, a shimmer of green eco surrounding his body as it glowed from his eyes. Behind him stood Keira, a pistol held clumsily in her small hands, the young woman obviously unused to the weapon.

'Come on you two, Ashelin's already out of here, you two need to be as well. "his Majesty" will have a fit if I let anything happen to you.' Torn had made the attempt to give Jak's position credulity in front of the guard by using the title but gradually it had become more of a sarcastic reference than anything else and now he found himself using it whenever he mentioned the unwilling monarch.

Samos grunted and seemed about to reply before he pushed Keira back into the bedroom, moving with surprising speed for one of his age as he threw himself away from the doorway. Torn flattened himself behind a wall strut just in time as three elite stepped into the entrance to the corridor and began firing, their shots biting chunks from the walls and floor as they called out to their accomplices. Torn frowned, he couldn't let himself be bogged down, he had to keep moving.

'That all you got?' He taunted, his rough, bass cutting through the sounds of battle as he leaned out and snapped off two shots, a volley of fire-lance shots scarring the walls and floor in reply as he pressed himself back against the wall. He drew a second pistol as he heard the heavy foot-steps of the elite guard moving down the hallway and roared as he dove from cover, his pistols already flaring in his hands.

He'd earned ever position he'd every occupied, first in the Krimson Guard and then as head of the underground. He'd earned them by being the best. In mid air he let off six shots as a fire lance bolt hummed past his ear like an angry bee. By the time he'd landed he had killed all three of the Krimson Elite as they charged down the hall. He rolled aside as two shots answered his volley and leapt back into cover, gritting his teeth as he heard a dozen replace the trio he had just felled. 

From his new position he could see into the room and glanced at those under his protection. Keira watched him with wide, frightened eyes as she knelt beside her father, the sage holding his staff at the ready as he coughed through the battle smoke, both staring at him from the room, pressing themselves out of sight of the Elite troops beyond. He dearly hoped that Ashelin had taken his advice and got out while she had the chance. He spoke into his com, the tactical display built into his fore-brace showing him the dwindling numbers of Krimson Regulars that were receiving his messages.

'This is Commander Torn of all Krimson Guard loyal to King Marr. Abandon the Palace! I repeat, abandon the palace, fall back to emergency -regroup positions.' He turned and bit the pin out of a grenade, rolling it down the corridor as he heard the shouts of alarm from the Elite. It detonated with a brilliant flash and a noise thunderous boom, disorientating the guard just enough for Torn to dive from cover and grab Keira's arm, lifting her and her father to their feet.

'Come on, we're getting out of here! I've got a transport waiting out back, it'll take you two somewhere safe until "his majesty" decides to get his butt back in the fight.'

He broke into a trot with the two hurrying after him as the Elite gradually recovered from his grenade, Samos' power lifting him from the floor to carry him at Torn's side as they moved through the palace. At times Krimson Regulars gathered around them, at others they peeled away to engage knots of Krimson Elite but all of them were in the same retreat as their small group. The palace was lost, now all they could do was try and retreat with the fewest casualties to return another day. Yet just as it seemed to Torn that they might just get out with their forces mostly intact Samos suddenly let out a gasp, the glow of green eco fading from around him as he tumbled from the air.

He lay against a wall looking as though he had just seen a ghost, his breath coming in terrified pants as his wide eyes stared at the wall with an unfocused glaze. Keira knelt beside him, fear in her voice as she called him to, Torn biting back an oath as he glanced either way down the hall to see if an elite could possible have shot the sage but the hall was empty. Whatever troubled him was his own doing.

'What's the matter with him? We've got to get out of here!' He snapped as a half dozen regulars passed them in the hall, one heaving a grenade into their wake to discourage what was evidently close pursuit. But as he knelt to haul Samos to his feet the sage's eyes suddenly seemed to refocus, staring into Torn's face with startlingly clear intent.

'We have got to get out of here! Now!' Torn hauled him to his feet, half dragging half carrying him as he began to stumble down the corridor.

Samos' voice seemed on the verge of panic as they moved, a very disquieting sound in someone who had never so much as trembled before. 'No… you don't understand. With the traps you set up the Krimson Elite should have been cut to pieces the moment they tried to attack right?'

'Yeah.' Torn paused to fire two shots at a shape in golden armour in the distance.

'They've got something with them… something terrible, horrible. It's the reason we've not been able to organise a good defence, it's smashed straight through the ambushes. And it's coming this way!' Samos shook himself free of Torn's grasp and was bathed in the glow of green eco once more, the fright leaving his face as he transformed it into anger. He stopped dead, staring at a side hallway ahead of them, his face grim as his knuckles whitened around his staff.

'We're too late… it's here!'

A terrible screaming erupted from the hallway as the three turned to look at it, Torn licking dry lips as horrible sounds echoed from the battle-scarred walls. Then suddenly the violence erupted before their eyes, four Krimson regulars flying from the hall, their screams ringing in their ears as they were smashed against the wall. Torn's eyes widened as he saw what pinned them in place. Four beams of dark eco, the same beams that Jak generated when he fought as his dark counter-part. But there was something different about these, they were not Jak's they moved sibilantly, with an intelligence as they crushed their prey against the wall, their thick, interwoven strands flowing with malevolent intent, not the uncontrolled outbursts of Jak's battles.

A terrible laugh echoed in the hall, chilling the watchers as Krimson Regulars were halted in their retreat to watch the terrible spectacle, the voice like rocks being smashed but at the same time, familiar. Then a clawed hand seized the edge of the door, the flesh a gruesome dark, almost black colour and each of the nails transformed into a razor sharp talon. The body that followed was worse, half-machine, half-monster. Robotics replaced the left arm and most of the chest of the creature, a bundle of tubes replacing what was once the spine, the flesh that was left boiling with ugly power as the four bolts flowed from his right hand. There was no way to recognise if the machine-monster had ever been human, no way save the mask which it wore. There was only one person who had ever worn a mask like that…

Torn voice stuck in his throat as he took it in, '… Erol.'

****

A.N. As I said, an extra long chapter to make up for my absenteeism with a startling revelation to finish. I hope you all enjoyed it and look forward to hearing from you what you thought of my writing. The next chapter will be up much quicker now that I've got the plot moving and I'll try to keep them almost as long as this one, Lord knows you deserve it for putting up with me J . Anyway, as always your reviews are welcome and anybody who wishes to discuss something or be notified when the next chapter is posted need only e-mail me at Leo_magik@hotmail.com. With that I'll leave you until next time.

Go with God

The Visionary


	5. War of the Titans

A.N. Greetings once more readers, to all of you who have given this fic your support I thank you greatly, particularly to Lady Blackmour whose honest criticism in her reviews has helped me address several issues in my writing. Again I thank you all for your praise and hope that you find this chapter worthy of more. Enjoy,

The Visionary

Chapter Five- 

War of the Titans

Erol was not the slim, muscular man he had once been, he stood taller at almost seven feet, his head seemingly melted to the mask that lay upon it, its eyes glowing with malevolent power. His shoulders were broader than even the bulky armour of the Krimson Regulars that lay dead all around him, the black flesh stretched over his malformed bones too tightly creating sickening angles and ripples whenever he moved. His lower half was similarly enlarged, the legs thick and muscular beneath armoured trousers, his boots heavy, evil things of dull metal and spikes. His whole chest and half of what had been his stomach had been replaced with metal plate that was married to the flesh with crude, ugly staples. There was a complex liquidity to the machinery that had replaced his left shoulder and arm showing it to be the work of a master craftsmen but the twitching and pulsing of the talons, showed his inexperience with the new limb. 

Instinct kicked in as he turned at the sound of his name and Torn was already at top speed when his eyes found them, 'Move!' His voice rose in the bellow of command, his body whipping around to launch into a sprint as he squeezed the trigger of his pistol, letting it switch to full auto and send a spray of bullets at his monstrous opponent. As he feared they pattered uselessly off Erol's hide and metal armour, dark power pulsing beneath his skin, making him impervious to the attack.

His hand flashed out, for a moment they could taste the power charging in the air and then it was unleashed, a torrent of dark lightning spraying from Erol's outstretched fingers. Each beam sliced through whatever it touched, scarring the walls and floors with melted trails as they cut a swathe through the Krimson Regulars. Torn had moved just in time, throwing himself behind a pillar and gritting his teeth as he felt the blast of heat as the lightning smashed past him. Keira's time honing her reactions on the race track was not in vain either as the lightning traced toward her, her slim arms showing surprising strength as she seized her father's shoulders and threw them both into an open chamber as the barrage sliced by them.

'Use your grenades, blow the bastard to hell!' The Krimson Regulars snapped into action, ignoring the dismembered dead all around them as each of them tore a grenade from his belt and heaved it toward their monstrous opponent. Torn's contribution joined them, the blast as over a dozen detonated at Erol's feet consuming his grossly oversized form, flames and shock-waves scouring the hall, the walls concentrating it into a ball of destruction that must surely have destroyed the enemy.

Torn pivoted out from behind his pillar and dropped to one knee, his pistol snapping up as he squinted into the cloud of smoke left by the explosions, watching for any sign of what was to come next. Then the voice came, a low, grating sound that was at once the familiar tones of the human that he had once been and a terrible, new sound that sent a shiver down Torn's spine.

'Grenades Torn? Is that honestly the best you can do.' Erol stepped out of the cloud of smoke, his boots shaking the floor with each step. 'Take a good look at me Torn, don't I remind you of anyone? You're pet king for instance. When he lets go he becomes something not too different from me doesn't he.' An unfamiliar trickle of fear ran down Torn's spine as a glimmer of recognition sparked in the back of his mind. 'I am a dark eco warrior Torn, but not an accidental freak like that cretin. I am the personification of power Torn. I am a living nexus of dark eco, endlessly powerful and utterly invulnerable. My body courses with dark power, I cannot be harmed. But you can!'

As he spoke he threw out his metal hand, black lightning danced down his arm for a moment and then once again exploded from his hand, searing down the corridor as his laughter again rang out. Torn reactions again saved his life as he dove to the floor, forcing back a scream as a bolt of the lightning caught him a glancing blow on his back, biting through his armour as he felt the skin on his back blister. The second barrage had scattered the survivors of the third and Erol leapt forth with a roar of animal glee, intent upon close combat. His claws glinted in the palace lights as he brought them down and across in a wide, sweeping arc that cut down a half dozen members of the Krimson Regulars in moments and began the brutal melee.

Torn lay on the floor for a moment, transfixed by the horror of the spectacle as he watched a dozen of his men fall within the first few seconds of the fight. Fire-lance shots seemed to bounce from Erol's hide as he all but ignored the weight and blows of those who fought against him in hand to hand, laughing that terrible laugh as he continued to cut a path. But he had forgotten that Keira had saved her father from his lightning or perhaps he had not known of the powers sleeping within the sage's deceptively frail body. Either way he was unprepared for the torrent of green eco that slammed into his back as Samos reappeared in the hall.

His staff was gripped between both hands, his features set in a mask of rage that was truly frightening on a face normally so apathetic as he glowed with the power of the eco coursing through him, using every shred of effort in him to smash the monstrosity he faced. Erol was plucked from his feet by the power of his beam, driven through the air as his laughter changed into a scream of pain that was cut off as he smashed into one of the palace walls. A shudder seeming to run through the entire structure as he was crushed into the metal wall, the terrible scream of metal buckling and tearing accompanying him as he was pounded relentlessly against it.

Then the spell was over and for a moment silence reigned, broken only by the sounds of Samos' panting breaths, his body still locked in position. Keira appeared behind him in the doorway, her voice rising in unfamiliar command. For though she had taken little or no part in the activities so far other than as Jak's keeper her pacifism had only been due to a lack of knowledge and the insecurities that went with it for one such as she who craved information. Now however she knew what was occurring and knew what would happen if she did not intervene, as she had always done, she rose to the occasion.

'Torn, get your men out of here! We don't stand a chance against him! We've got to get out of here until Jak arrives…' Yet before she could finish, her words appeared to be prophetic. At that very moment, just as Erol pulled himself free of the wall into which Samos had imbedded him a second darkness leapt onto the battlefield, one with white skin and vengeance in it's voice as it too recognised the new enemy.

'Erol!' In his dark form Jak's voice was a sibilant hiss that filled the hall, his eyes focused in hatred amplified a thousand times by the dark rage that he allowed to take over. Just as Erol managed to find his feet in the hall Jak was on him in a roaring, seething barrage of claws, fangs and spears of dark power. The two fighters collapsed into a tangle of limbs as their dark powers clashed, lightning scouring the halls as each of them slashed, bit and kicked at the other, their claws tearing at each others flesh. But for all the ferocity of Jak's attack it was Erol that struck the first telling blow, an explosion of dark eco sending Jak arcing backward into one of the palaces' great halls this one with a massive window overlooking the city far below.

Jak twisted in the air to land on one knee in the centre of the hall, his eyes immediately locking once more upon his prey. For his part Erol did not give any ground, loping after him with long, powerful strides until he entered the hall as well. The two stared at each other for a moment, circling slowly as sparks of eco crackled from their limbs, muscles bunching and knotting in preparation for the next attack. They spoke no words, each of them allowing themselves to be consumed by the dark rage burning inside them, Erol's body loosing some of its posture as his shoulders hunched animalisticly, a low growl bubbling from his throat as he flexed his claws.

Then they attacked, each rushing at the other as they summoned dark eco to their aid, spheres of lightning crackling into existence around their hands. They clashed once more, their claws hacking at each other scoring great wounds through their opponent's flesh as the leapt about the hall, unnatural acrobatics and inhuman abilities providing an almost balletic swiftness to the fight. But this was not a normal fray and wounds that would have ended any other battle were gone almost instantly in this one, skin both white and black knitting and sealing almost as soon as claws hacked it apart.

They slashed at each other for what seemed an eternity, great gaping wounds spattering blood across the floor and walls as they leapt and clashed, retreating for a moment before once more jumping at each other. But the physical conflict was only a foreground for a greater battle as power built in the air, the lightning leaping from their two bodies gradually increasing as the two fought more and more frenziedly, giving themselves up the dark power within them, letting it come out in full force.

Eventually there was some unseen signal and the powers were unleashed. Jak was the first to call on them, pulling back one hand as he let out a terrible scream of rage and black eco blossomed in his palm, growing until in an instant it consumed his forearm within a dark sphere of crackling power. He slammed it home, detonating the ball as he smashed it into Erol's guts, the explosion lifting his larger opponent from the fight and sending him hurtling across the hall. He smashed into a pillar, the stone construct shattering as his body crashed through. But Erol was by no means finished and twisted before he hit the floor, coming down on all fours as dark lightning crackled along his frame for an instant. Then like a leaping panther he unleashed his own attack, becoming a blur of darkness as he sped across the room and straight into his smaller opponent sending him skidding across the floor until he was stopped by the wall.

Jak's recovery was similarly swift as he leapt back up and sent a bolt of seething lightning from his hand and into Erol, his roar shaking the hall as the energy emitting from the fight drove back their audience, shattering the massive windows. But Erol gathered his power into one hand for a moment and swatted the attack almost contemptuously aside, the power blasting a hole through the wall as he leapt forward once more. This was the start of the rest of the fight, the first sign of Erol's superiority. For as the fight continued it became increasingly obvious that Jak, despite his formidable dark gifts was no match for his opponent. Erol's attacks became increasingly telling as Jak began to take longer and longer to recover from each while his own seemed to have less and less effect upon his opponent.

In a last desperate attempt to turn the tide Jak planted himself as Erol once more leapt into the air, dark lightning gathering around him as he prepared his next attack. Drawing in a deep breath Jak let the last shred of his power fill him, and change him. As Erol descended space seemed to twist and stretch for an instant as Jak's body suddenly exploded upward and outward, some monstrous shift growing him to three times the size of a man, lightning exploding outward from his new body.

This last power, his last resort seemed to have paid off and his claws swept upward as Erol hesitated for a moment. They swatted him aside, sending him thundering into a wall from where he slumped to the ground, coughing up a mouthful of blood, the first sign in him of a real injury. As he struggled to stand once more Jak's massive form sprinted across the hall faster than could be believed, his hands already raised, ready to strike. As Erol shakily regained his feet Jak's massive fist descended to pound him once more into the floor a moment before a second blow sent him into another wall, Jak's change amplifying his power a dozen times, allowing him to pulverise his opponent. 

But it was his last resort for a reason, the change put a great strain upon his powers, draining his reserves all too quickly and as he whirled to finish his task once more he seemed to choke and fall forward, collapsing onto his hands and knees. The same twisting and stretching of space occurred in reverse, leaving him once more the smaller of the two combatants, and as his skin lost its sickly white pall and his hair regained its lustre now by far the weaker of the two. He stared at his hands for a moment, his eyes widening as he no longer saw claws upon them and then his eyes rose as Erol staggered to his feet, wiping away the trace of blood from his lip.

Once more he spoke no words to show his hatred for Jak but merely ran at him, black lightning trailing from his claws as he raised them above his head, a wild laugh to triumph bubbling from his throat as he foresaw his victory. But though Jak no longer had dark eco at his command he was by no means helpless and with a defiant roar leapt to meet his charge, one hand flashing up from his boot as sunlight glinted on metal. Erol roared in pain as Jak drove his boot-knife into the side of his throat, some remnant of the dark transformation allowing him to thrust the blade home through his hide. But once more physical wounds proved useless against the power of dark eco and Erol's fist swept him aside as he plucked the knife from the wound and absent-mindedly snapped it in his fingers.

Tears sprang into her eyes as she watched Jak's body arc through the air, his limbs limp as he spiralled toward them. He hit the wall above her, hard, the sound of bones cracking audible as he bounced onto the floor, sprawling lifelessly at her feet. For a moment shock coursed through her, stunning her mind and body as she saw the blood leaking from his flank, his face closed to her, unconscious. Then adrenaline flooded her as she whipped around, ignoring her suicidal choice of action as she snatched up Jak's rifle from his holster, raising it to her shoulder as she screamed.

She was as unfamiliar with the rifle as she had been with the pistol she had held earlier but as Erol rushed towards them it would have been hard for her to miss. Yet as the bolt streaked through the air and the kickback of the rifle sent her tumbling backward onto the floor all it appeared was not in vain. As the bolt of yellow eco took Erol in the shoulder it did not fizzle into nothingness as all the shots before had, instead the sound of searing flesh hissed through the air as Erol screamed in pain, rocking back in shock. They stared in amazement as he clasped his hand over his wound, gritting his teeth as he watched them with wild eyes, cursing that Jak had fallen into their ranks.

'No! Too weak… lost too much power! I'll be back fools, and next time you're pathetic pet freak won't protect you!'

For the first time Erol retreated from a fight as Torn brought his gun up, the dark eco warrior leaping from the floor with unnatural agility to alight upon a high balcony, loping out of sight before any of them could try for another shot. As Keira stared after him in amazement a hand gripped hers weakly, calling her eyes to Jak as he reached for her.

'Gate 3… escape… get to… gate 3.' She nodded once, pressing a feverish kiss to his forehead as he slumped into unconsciousness again before turning to Torn as he ordered the Krimson Regulars into a cohesive force, gathering them around him.

'Torn, he said we have to get to gate 3. He's got some way for us to escape there.' The Krimson Guard commander looked down at the unconscious fighter and grunted as he turned.

'You heard the lady. Form up and let's get going.' He glanced over his shoulder at Samos, nodding at Jak's recumbent form. 'You got enough juice left to carry him?'

Samos nodded, letting the glow of green eco surround him as he prepared the little power he had managed to recover. 'I won't drop him. Now come on, I doubt the Krimson Elite plan on letting us stand around talking much longer.' As though to punctuate his words a golden armoured form stepped from a doorway on the opposite side of the hall, levelling his fire-lance as his voice rose.

'Here! I've found*' Before he could continue he was cut down by Krimson Regulars even as they broke into a run, shouts sounding as the Krimson Elite closed in. Samos and Keira ran in the centre of the fleeing party, Jak's body borne along beside the floating sage as an aura of Samos' power surrounded him. Keira watched his face as every movement brought a twitch of pain, gripping his hand as she hoped that his monumental struggle to protect them, to protect her, had not been in vain.

They moved in a running firefight, snapshots echoing down corridors and through chambers as their every step was dogged by the Krimson Elite. One by one they were brought down but they were never halted in their mad dash, casualties left in their wake as they bulldozed through those that opposed them. There were far fewer that ran from the Palace's third gate and into the smoggy air of the industrial district than had set off but as they drew to a sudden halt outside they wondered if perhaps they had been wrong to follow Jak's advice.

The gate opened out onto a wide plaza in the industrial district, factories and processing centres walling in the courtyard, walkways criss-crossing overhead between the structures as they rose all around them. Normally it would have teemed with labourers and business men as the citizenry of Haven City moved about their daily business but at that moment it was empty as the workers deserted their posts to escape the any collateral damage from the battle in the palace. Empty at least save the six Krimson Guard carriers that hovered a few feet from the ground in the centre. Whether Regulars or Elite piloted them was a crucial unknown. As it a familiar voice crackled into life over the loudspeakers on each craft it turned out that neither was the correct answer.

'Get down!'

Keira's eyes widened, 'Daxter?' Before she could say any more Torn seized her and threw her to the floor an instant before the pursuing Krimson Elite arrived at the gate. As the first of them stepped out into the open courtyard the cannons on the underbelly of each of the carriers exploded into life, a spray of bullets peppering the gateway. The Elite were caught in the open, death-cries rising as they were mown down by the fire, shell casings littering the asphalt as they dropped in a steady hail from assault cannons, their tinkling impacts an undertone to the deafening roar of the shots.

The Elite tried to take refuge behind the gates as the doors slowly closed, the sheer weight and size of the portal meaning that it took half a minute before they were safe from the carriers. It also meant that it would take almost the full thirty seconds before they could re-emerge. They all knew better than to waste the time and the entrance ramps at the rear of each of them were already dropping as their cannons ceased their fire, the metal barrels pinging as they cooled. Torn needed no further invitation and dragged Keira to her feet as he urged his Krimson Regulars forward and into the vehicles. 

As she gained her feet a grin split her face as a short, familiar figure leaned out from the rear of the lead carrier, beckoning her onward as he called to her, 'Heya toots, bet you never thought you'd be this glad to see me!'

As the Elite realised what was happening outside they began opening the gates once more, the doors slowly inching open as they readied themselves should they have to face the same wave of fire that had cut down over a dozen of their accomplices the last time. But they were too late, even as the first of them leapt from the entrance and brought his fire-lance to bear the carriers lifted into the air, turning away from the palace as their ramps closed once more, the Krimson Regulars safely aboard.

Inside the first one Samos gently lay Jak upon a bench, watching as Keira sat beside him, lifting his head into her lap as she watched his face carefully for any signs of life. She turned to her father to speak but Daxter's voice cut her off as he challenged Torn, staring up at the commander from his perch of the opposite bench.

'What the hell happened in there? I was ready to send my wastelanders in to storm the palace and come and lend a hand when Jak showed up out of nowhere and told me to grab some carriers and wait here. I figured he was gonna go ugly and didn't want us in the way. Now I've seen him fight those guys, even the Elite got didn't stand a chance once he wigged out and got all dark. So can you explain to me exactly how he got his head kicked in?'

Torn watched the palace fading in the back window as the carriers swept over the city. 'Erol's back.' He replied grimly, hearing the ottsel's sharp intake of breath. 'Apparently after his accident the Baron had him transferred to some sort of secret labs, they must have been outside the Palace because me and Ashelin checked every inch of the place and destroyed anything to do with the Dark Eco Warrior Project. Somehow they managed to keep him alive and now he cane use dark eco just like Jak. Only he's stronger… a lot stronger.'

The ottsel's face was subdued as he turned to Samos, nodding toward Jak. 'Is he gonna be okay?'

Samos gave his daughter a reassuring nod as she looked up at the ottsel's question, 'He'll be fine. It's just a couple of cracked ribs, I've seen that boy dancing with worse. Mostly he's just exhausted from the fight, but since it's eco exhaustion rather than physical it'll take a lot longer for him to recover. Normally I'd expect it to take anything up to a week but with a boy like Jak it shouldn't take more than a day or two before he's back on his feet.'

Torn let out a slow breath as he wrestled his thoughts into order, forcing himself to think logically rather than panic over the apparent hopelessness of their situation. 'Hey, Fuzzball.' Daxter scowled but turned an attentive face toward him, 'Tell your men to head to the old Underground Headquarters. That's where I told Ashelin to rally our troops if something like this happened.' The ottsel nodded, disappearing into the cockpit as Torn turned to Samos.

'So what now sage? You're the eco expert!'

Samos turned a scowl at him, banging his staff into the floor as he rose to his feet, 'Don't you dare snap at me boy! Erol's been imbued with dark eco that has affected him in ways far different from Jak's receipt of these powers. Right now I don't know how to beat him and I sure as hell am not about to start to tell you what to do with your soldiers, as far as I'm concerned they're your responsibility. Once Jak wakes up I'll talk with him, see what I can find out. But until then the only thing we can do is retreat and lick our wounds. Hopefully it'll take them a while to sort out the mess we left of the palace and we'll have time to plan where to go from here.'

Torn acquiesced, turning as Daxter re-entered the compartment, hopping onto the seat next to Keira as he took in his best friend's state. 'How many wastelanders you got?'

Daxter shrugged, 'Not sure, got about ten of em with me and… maybe forty, fifty back in the harbour area, all of 'em with some serious hardware though and tough as nails from huntin' metalheads.' He caught the look in Torn's eye and jumped to his feet. 'Hey, don't think even for a second that they work for you. They work for me and I'm only lookin' out for my buddy Jak here, I don't make a move until he's back on his feet.'

Torn scowled at the ottsel but held his tongue, no matter his opinions the furball had just saved his life and almost three dozen of his men. 'Fine, I'll give you and your men quarters in the Underground's complex until Jak. We can look after him better here than you can at the Ottsel I'm sure.'

Daxter shrugged, conceding the point before retreating into the cockpit, pointing the way to the pilot as the carriers dropped from the sky to weave between the buildings at street level, dodging around the few civilian vehicles that had braved the streets. An odd calm had settled over the city and its citizenry, but one that held a dread and foreboding, as though they lay in the eye of the storm and merely awaited when it would next unleash its fury on them. As far as Torn was concerned that was a good thing, it would keep civilian casualties to a minimum if the fighting spilled out onto the streets, which it was looking increasingly likely to.

As the carrier's swept around the final bend and into the cul-de-sac that housed the Underground's headquarters he saw the turrets hidden behind the façade of the buildings track them for a moment before he transmitted the clearance code. As they watched the street beneath them suddenly split down the middle, the hiss of pneumatics rising above the drone of their engines as the hidden bunker was revealed to the carriers. As Daxter watched wide-eyed Torn allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction.

'What? You thought underground headquarters was just that one little room?'

Daxter's eyes raised to him and he shrugged, 'Well actually yeah.'

Torn let himself take in the base as the carriers lowered into the hanger. 'Afraid not.' The Underground had spent years constructing this place, building it into the city's sewer system and hiding it away from the Krimson Guard. For years it had been their base of operations, from where they had struck at Praxis' oppresive regime. Now, after being the enemy of the Krimson Guard for so long, it swarmed with them, every walkway and chamber filled with red-armoured Krimson Regulars, those with wounds stretched out in rows as medics tended to them, technicians and officers moving calmly through the hive of activity. The hanger had not been designed to take carriers and was already filled with a variety of bikes and speeders left over from the clandestine activities of the underground, all surreptitiously modified to include weapons. But Torn found a way to fit in the carriers, they would come in handy later.

Torn opened the ramp and took over command effortlessly, his voice cutting across the orders of the captain already on the landing platform as he ordered his troops from the craft, signalling to them where they should go, using his familiarity with the base well. It was a simple matter for one of his experience to see to it that the steady flow of retreating troops arriving from the various safe-houses to which he had directed them was matched by an equal flow of patrols that left the base. His swiftness was well-rewarded and by the time a familiar voice called him from his post he had ensured that over half the city was firmly in his hands despite the loss of the palace.

'Torn, come to the command centre. I have to speak with you.' Ashelin's voice came into his ear from the small head-set he wore. He obeyed her quickly but did not simply leave his plans half-complete, with the same smooth skill with which he had taken over command of the flow of the troops within the base he once more relinquished it to his officers before making for the command centre. It was the room that had so often seen him in conference with Jak, Officers in the Krimson Guard, some of them men he had instated straight from their positions in the underground, surrounded the low table and offered him their salutes as he entered. The maps spread before them covered in an intricate scrawl of detailed notes and tactical data, a hundred pins scattered through the streets to represent where their forces were positioned. To most it would have been a confusing whirl of data but Torn took it in with a glance, knowing that the same understanding of the situation was present in the mind of the tall slender, woman whose eyes pinned him the moment they rose from the table.

'Okay, all of you out. I need to speak with Commander Torn alone.' She dismissed the other officers and they obediently left them, knowing better than to question her orders. The instant that the door shut behind the last of them the two were locked in a feverish embrace as Torn closed the gap between them instantly to enfold her in his arms, pulling her against his armoured form.

'Thank God you're alright!' He whispered into her ear, the rare moment of passion between the two enough to draw the tender words from him. They had never really consummated their relationship in the years they had known each other, their moments together taken in time stolen from the rest of their lives. But they had come to rely on if not the presence then at least the knowledge of their partner's sympathy and comfort.

The two parted to sit side-by-side at the table, turning to watch one another for a moment. The make-shift hospital in the base was not far down the corridor from the hidden door that led to the rest of the base and in the silence the two heard the low cries of the wounded. He saw her face grow heavy as a particularly shrill scream cut through the door.

'Did we do the right thing Torn?' Her voice was heavy with unfamiliar self-doubt, the emotion as strange to her voice as it was to her face. 'Trying to set ourselves up as the new rulers once my father was gone?' She paused for a moment, unused to expressing any vulnerability. 'How many people have died, will die, because we wanted to stop Michaels and Erol from taking over?'

Torn took her hand gently between his, his heavily tattooed face bearing an unfamiliar expression of concern upon it. 'I don't know.' He did not try to coddle her, he respected her to much for that. Merely told her the truth of his feelings. 'But if we let Erol take over… if we give up. What he'll do will make the worst of your father's atrocities look like nothing. He's a monster Ashelin… If we have to the Guard will fight him down to the last man.'

Her hand tightened around his fingers as she rose from her seat to straddle him in his, their faces inches apart as her free hand rose, her fingertips grazing across his cheek.

'If you go off and get killed Torn, I'll never forgive you… not ever!'

He released her hand so that he could embrace her, pulling her close to bring her lips in range of the gentle kiss he brushed across them. A confident smile crossed his face as he sat back, his arms draped around her hips as she ran her hands over his armoured chest.

'The elite have been trying to kill me for years Ashelin. They haven't managed it yet, and they won't this time.'

Her hands twisted in his collar, the hidden muscles in her slim frame pulling him back to her as she pressed herself against him. 

'It's not the elite I'm worried about Torn. Erol's out of your league, I've heard the reports of what he did at the palace. I want you to promise me that you won't try to take him on. We brought Jak in to deal with unknowns like this.'

Torn stared up at her, watching the fire dance in her eyes for a moment before he replied. 'Jak's failed Ashelin.' The sharp breath she drew told her that the revelation had been news to her, her hands releasing him as she retreated back to her own chair. 'He fought Erol in the palace today. Erol beat him, badly. We only just got away with our lives.'

Her eyes rose, 'Where is he now?'

'I've put him up in one of the dorm rooms, Keira and Samos are in their with him. The Fuzzball's there too, got a couple of his wastelanders on the door. One of em's the big bastard, what's his name, Sig. When they fought he weakened Erol enough for our guns to hurt him but even after a fight like that all we could do was scratch him… I don't know how we're gonna beat him Ashelin.'

She stared at the table in front of her as she stood, eyes fixed on the palace as her hands closed into fists. 'We'll find a way Torn. We have to…'

A.N. I'll bet most of you didn't see that coming now did you. I hope this new twist in the balance of power piques your interest enough that you will be around for the next chapter as the story is about to enter a new phase and I am very happy with the way things are currently progressing. As always, any reviews you have would be welcomed as I always appreciate honest views on my work. As an aside, to avoid further embarrassment to either party I would suggest that anyone who has issues with plot aspects of my fic notify me through private e-mail rather than review as I would like to remind you that this fic is my own interpretation of the Jak 2 universe and as such elements of it may differ from your own. But besides this, I hope you have all enjoyed the latest instalment of my work and look forward to reading your reviews.

Go With God

The Visionary


	6. Wounds

****

A.N. Okay, I can't really give any excuse for this chapter being so late other than the following which occurred a few weeks ago: Inspiration this is Wall, you two are going to be running into each other a lot. Don't worry though, I've already got the next chapter mostly written after a few one shot pieces that I posted in the Firefly category got me going again and I'll update within a week, that's a promise. Anyway, please try and bear with me, I'm not too pleased with how this chapter came out but I promise the next one will be better, enjoy

The Visionary

Chapter Six- Wounds

It took almost a full day for both sides to regroup, the Krimson Regulars fortifying themselves in the slums. The knowledge granted to them by Torn's experience and the aid of dozens of former Underground Agents giving them a crucial advantage that allowed them to turn the ramshackle buildings into a death trap for any enemy foolish enough to wander into them. In the same way the Elite turned the Palace once more into a fortress. Their officers cursed Torn's foresight when they found the controls for the automated defence smashed beyond repair but nonetheless it was easy enough to regain the virtual impregnability that only Jak had ever been known to defeat so totally.

At midnight on the first day Ashelin's technicians hacked the city broadcast feed and let her talk to the people, telling them a brief version of the events that had transpired in the palace and ending with a plea for them to simply stay out of the way. For their part the citizenry were only too glad to oblige. They were used to living in a city at war and every building had a bomb shelter of some sort, the populous retreating into these bunkers to hide from what they knew was coming, those who could fleeing the sectors they knew would see the worst of the fighting. 

Then in the morning, war came once more to Haven City. The Bazaar district was silent, virtually deserted, the streets empty of all but the scuttling rats and fluttering birds, even the normally undauntable lurker traders had retreated to their secret lairs, leaving an almost magical stillness over the entire place. Then an explosion tore through one of the marketplaces as a missile streaked through the air before tearing apart the lead Hellcat of the first Elite patrol. Krimson regulars suddenly surged from the cover of the buildings, darting out from the dark recesses of empty shops to begin a devastating barrage, their comrades appearing in every window and opening to lay down a sheet of cover fire. 

The Elite responded with common savagery and even as shrapnel hissed, red hot and glowing through the air from that first blood they countered, orders rising as lances were brought to bear. As the infantry began to blast at each other two more hellcats smashed through the wreckage of the first, their twin gatling cannons tearing paths of destruction across the facades of buildings, the aged stonework splintering and crumbling as the din of battle rose. Dozens died on each side as beams of eco wove eerily beautiful webs of light in the air, the smell of ozone rising in a horrible, burnt stench that drifted from the battlefield along with the screams of the wounded and cries of the dying. Battle was joined.

For a full half day that courtyard had seen bitter contest as each side poured their troops into it, determined to win the crucial first blood through that engagement. In the end it was a stalemate, the Krimson Elite pushing back the Regulars with their unbridled aggression and superior skill before the next wave of Regular reinforcements arrived and drove them back through sheer weight of numbers. Two days later the bloodiest of the fighting had moved into other courtyards and even the shops and arcades of the aqueduct and those troops that were left settled into a gruelling war of attrition, sniping at each other from the cover of the ruined buildings. 

But for all the death that had been seen already both sides knew, or at least the commanders knew, that these engagements were only skirmishes in the larger battle. The true war, the truly deciding battle between the forces would only happen when the two ultimate weapons, the two dark eco warriors clashed once more. For as yet, neither had been seen on the battlefield, no omnipotent presence appearing in either ranks to sow death and destruction among the enemy. And both sides waited with baited breath, for the other to be the first to play their trump card and leave him exposed to the other once he had been worn down. However, what neither side knew was whether or not the enemy's card was in any position to be dealt. For Torn, it was a desperate bluff, for he knew full well that right now, Jak was a helpless victim of coma, lying unconscious upon a bed in a small back room of the Underground Base.

~

Daxter sighed as Jak shifted in his sleep, a low moan escaping his lips as his muscles tightened and his hands gripped the blankets that covered him in fitful spasms. He hadn't changed in the two days since the battle at the palace, lying on a narrow bunk in an Underground infirmary ward, whatever price the use of dark eco took from him keeping him in this mysterious coma. Medics and Samos both had tried to revive him but neither had been successful, the sage's only words that he needed rest.

He tightened his small paws into fists, screwing his eyes shut as he thought of all that he and Jak had been through. Every time something had happened to them in the past, no matter what it had been, Jak had found a way through. He'd always been there, someone he could rely on, a friend, a fighter. Only Keira knew better than him how wonderful it was to be able to rely on Jak, in this place, Jak had become more than ever before, the one they had looked to for help. This was the first time he'd failed, the first time he'd been beaten, Daxter had never felt so helpless in all his life. A soft hand stroked his head softly, his ears run between delicate fingers. His eyes rose and he smiled as he saw Tess looking down on him, raising a hand to stroke her arm slowly.

'Hey babe…' She smiled sadly at him, lifting his small body to cradle it against her chest.

'Hi honey, is he doing any better?'

Daxter shrugged, 'I don't know. He looks just the same, I don't know if that's good or bad.' She pressed a sympathetic kiss between his tufted ears, she knew how much the two had been through together and how much they meant to each other. For all that the two acted with total autonomy, they had always been a pair, always been best friends. 

'He'll be okay Darling. If anyone can pull through whatever this is it's him. You remember what he was like during the war don't you?' She reassured him with total confidence in her voice, the same trust she placed in her emotions that had made them a couple now allowing her to reassure her partner.

He grinned up at her, about to speak when the door opened to admit the other regular visitor to the room, the only other one that Sig let pass without question. Keira gave him a subdued smile, so different from her usual bubbling personality. He shook his head in answer to her unspoken question and she nodded sadly as though expecting no change. 

Daxter slumped back onto his perch on the table, toying with a glass that had been left unattended. 'Did ya talk to Samos?'

She nodded, 'Yeah, Dad said that he can't help. This… this is an eco sickness Daxter, like what happened after he fought Gol and Maia and it's worse because it's the dark eco that's got thrown out of balance. If it was one of the other types, well, my dad's learned a few things since then and he'd be able to help a little But as it is he can't do anything. All we can really hope is that Jak manages to wake up on his own… and soon.'

Daxter's eyes widened, 'Is Erol back then?'

Keira allowed herself to shiver at the prospect and shook her head, using the action to banish the images of the fight he and her lover had fought. 'No, we still haven't seen him. We think that the process they used on him means he works like a battery, fighting through the palace and then having to take on Jak completely drained him and it seems to take a while for him to fill up again. Based on how long it took the first time I guess we've got about two, maybe three days before he's fully charged again, that's if we guess the change itself took a couple of months.'

Daxter nodded slowly, eyeing Jak's recumbent form, sending up a silent prayer that he would wake up before then. He turned back to Keira, standing up to his full height which though not much nonetheless allowed him to take on a note of confidence in his voice. 'Well I'm gonna look after Jak until he's ready to take on Erol again. If there's anything you need Keira, anything at all, you come to me. My Wastelanders may not be in charge around here but I'll get you anything you need.'

Keira's eyes rose to him and she smiled, 'Thanks Daxter, there may be something you can help with actually. Torn and Ashelin want me to stay locked up tight here but I think that if I got to the power station I could cut off the power to the palace, give us an advantage. Right now it's in our territory but apparently the Elite are gonna make a push for it tonight and he wants it to be locked down by then.' She sighed a turned away from him, returning her gaze to Jak's sleeping face. 'I don't know if I'll be able to do anything though. Vin was the only one who really knew enough about the grid to do something as complex as that and until I get a look at his notes up at the station I don't know if I'll be able to do anything without shutting down the whole city. And we all know what that would mean…'

Daxter frowned and "humphed", 'Well I for one know that Jak'd have kittens if he found out I let you go out into the city with nothing. Me, Sig and six more of my boys'll go with ya. Back at the palace I promised Jak I'd look after you if anything happened to him and I sure as hell ain't gonna break that.'

Tess stroked his head fondly as a small smile played about her lips and Keira gave him a genuine smile, 'Thank you Daxter, I know that'd mean a lot to him.'

'When do you wanna leave?'

Keira glanced down and found that she was still in the worn and tattered dress in which she had fled the palace and sighed, 'As soon as I find a pair of mechanics overalls and a toolkit. I can't be sure that all of Vin's tools are at the station and I want to make sure I have everything.' 

Daxter nodded and turned to Tess, 'You think you could find something for Keira babe, you're about the same size?' 

Tess smiled and nodded, raising her eyes to meet Keira's, 'Sure, a lot of my gear's still stored in the base right here so I should be able to find you something that'll fit and a toolkit'll be no problem, I'll just raid the maintenance bay. In all the commotion no-one will be bothered.'

'I love that thing you do girl.' She'd always had a knack for finding ways to get things done, it was what had led to her becoming one of the Underground's best intelligence agents before she'd… taken up other duties. Daxter grinned toothily at his wife and received an affectionate pat in return as he stroked her hip with an over-large paw.

It was dark by the time their small group left. At night Haven City's skyline was lit by the fires of battles already fought and the flickering, explosive flashes of fighting that still raged, the end of each one marking a street lost or gained by Torn's troops. In the quite of the night the sound of each distant shot and scream echoed through the deserted streets and Keira shivered as the breeze brought the sounds to her as she emerged from a hidden tunnel. It brought her to within half an hour by speeder of the power station, the six bikes that waited for them meaning that they would probably reach it in half that time. By the fact that Keira was the only one surprised by their presence she assumed that Daxter's network in the city was still active, despite the battles that raged throughout.

Tess had come through and Keira was dressed in loose overalls that were made out of a tough, linen material of a dull green colour that nonetheless did little to hide her feminine curves. Her longer hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail to keep away it from her eyes as she worked and she had taken the small, jewelled studs she had worn in the palace from her ears. She had also opted for a pair of solid, black boots and they scuffed the asphalt as she straddled one of the machines, smiling in satisfaction as the engine purred easily into life at the first touch of the ignition.

She turned as five more engine tones sounded from behind her as the Wastelanders mounted up and she took in Sig as he sat astride the largest of the six, a big, mean-looking black machine that seemed designed for power rather than speed. On his shoulder Daxter perched as he so often had on Jak's lounging across one of the metalhead skulls that made the Wastelander's shoulder-pads. He tapped the side of Sig's helmet and motioned the other wastelanders forward with a wave of his hand. Sig took the lead and the others formed a protective circle around Keira, eyes, some enhanced by bionics or gene splicing, darting down every street and into every shadow, each of them driving with one hand while their other held a weapon.

They had a calm confidence about them that soothed Keira's nerves, a smile crossing her face as she wondered at the fate that had made them choose Daxter as, if not their leader, then at least their manager. Not two months ago he was a penniless fugitive, now he was wealthy and in charge of the strongest fighting force in the city behind the guard. Daxter looked back at her and grinned to see the smile on her face before turning back to the road, adding his own eyes to the watchful gazes of his men.

They rode in utter silence save the rumble of their accumulated engines, travelling slow enough that they would not run headlong into an ambush but swift enough that they were never in the open for too long. Even though the front line was several miles away through a twisting maze of buildings and industrial factories they were not about to take the chance that a party of Elite had slipped through unnoticed. 

Several times they saw Regulars dashing to and fro but none of them paid the small group any mind. Some carried wounded into makeshift hospitals among the factories in hurried silence while others called orders to their comrades in loud shouts as they ran, readying themselves for the battle they went to join. They were unchallenged until they got to the bottom of the raised walkway that led to the power station a pair of Krimson Regulars stepping out from the shadows of its doorway to call out a challenge. Sig responded with a cryptic remark that was evidently some sort of pre-arranged password and the Krimson Regulars called them up before resuming their silent vigil, eyes watching the dance of lights below the skyline that marked the progress of the battle.

Keira followed Sig and the others as they dismounted and readied their weapons, those whose weapons required it chambering rounds in a quick, silent preparation that would shave a fraction of a second off the start of a fire-fight. She knew that just like with racing, that time could make all the difference. Sig led them, his Peacemaker providing a low, background hum to the heavy sound of his armoured boots on the walkway. The stillness of the city around them making it seem as though each step could surely be heard for miles, even the softer steps of the others seeming like a clattering cacophony in the background.

The power-station doors hissed shut behind them and Keira took the lead, her eyes searching for the room she wanted as she left the ring of circuitry that made the power control room and descended a narrow set of stairs into the bowels of the place. The walls were not those of rooms but instead of gigantic machines, massive generators humming stoically as pipes and oddly shaped casings marked more ambiguously purposed machines, all joined in an intricate lattice work of eco pipes, extremes of hot and cold making each corridor different from its neighbour. Overhead lights glowed brightly and lit each corridor with various shades, some sort of navigational system allowing those who knew the key to move with ease among the machinations but serving only to further confuse the Wastelander's as they followed Keira through the station. 

She had some knowledge of what the lights meant and of where she could find what she needed but it still took them almost a quarter of an hour of wandering before they came upon their destination. In a corridor were the, warm, wet humidity had all but destroyed any attempts at painting the walls nestled Vin's office. It had lain abandoned since his death and Keira allowed herself a respectful moment of silence as she opened it to find it just as the technician had left it, a stale mug of coffee still sitting on the desk. She pushed the thoughts aside, after this last battle, after this she could afford to grieve and they could all see to honouring those who had given their lives.

The Wastelanders waited outside as she took in the small office, a desk in the middle littered with a chaos of loose papers and over-flowing folders, charts and graphs scattered haphazardly around a small computer. One side was lined with filing cabinets and she turned her attention to them, pulling open a draw to find a surprisingly organised filing system, tiny notes scribbled onto labels that were utterly cryptic even to one of her mechanical knowledge. She sifted through them, trying to ignore the dull echoes and metallic booms of the machinery that hummed with life around her.

She flipped through the leafs of paper, eyes darting from page to page, taking in diagrams for a moment before discarding them as unneeded. But as she began to think that she would never find the exact documents she wanted a chance phrase caught her eye, bringing an end to her frantic search. She tensed as she pulled out the page and began to frantically scan its contents, her tongue darting out to lick suddenly dry lips.

Daxter craned his neck around the door, raising an eyebrow as he saw the look on her face, watching her mouthing words as she read them,

'… Dark eco purification… elimination of elements… catalytic chamber… conversion fuel… regulation and acceleration chamber.' Suddenly a smile broke onto her face, an expression that Daxter had not seen since Jak had stolen a kiss from her in the Ottsel before all of this had begun. 'I… I can do this.'

~

Jak awoke slowly, the lingering lethargy in his body fighting to keep him under. In his mind he fought Erol still. The monstrous form smashed him aside again and again, his own dark power for naught as Erol's terrible laughter rang in his ears. They clashed once more and Jak again felt the heat and pain as their claws raked across each others hides, dark lightning crackling in the trails they scored. And all the while that emotionless and yet hate-filled mask stared down at him as he was slowly overcome.

Their hands locked and they wrestled upon his dreamscape, muscles straining as they each strove to gain some advantage. Erol's body pulsed with dark power and he found the upper hand, the muscles in his good arm knotting as the servos in his mechanical limb whined with new power. His claws crushed Jak's in their fearsome grip, drawing a stifled cry of pain from him as he felt his bones shatter. His arms heaved and Jak was flung into the air like a rag-doll, hovering at the apex of the swing for a moment before Erol brought him crashing down into the ground.

Even as he felt his bones splinter from the impact the dream lost its hold and threw him into the waking world. A cry sprang from his lips as he jerked upright in a strange bed, eyes wide as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. His mind cleared in an instant and his eyes darted about the room, snatching up his holster and rifle as he found them laying beside his bed. He rose and buckled them on, vaguely recognising the room as a hospital ward in the Underground base, he'd had cause to visit them once, although Daxter had been blind drunk at the time and probably couldn't even remember. The door opened, whomever had waited outside obviously roused by his cries and he turned to find Ashelin in the doorway.

She motioned to him to rise but he ignored her running a hand through his hair as he tried to marshal his thoughts. 'Where's Keira?'

'We don't know.'

His eyes narrowed as his eyes speared her, rising from the bed to overshadow her as his muscle tensed. 'What do you mean you don't know? She was with you at the palace!'

Ashelin nodded, 'Yes, she was with Torn. You managed to wear down Erol enough to let them get away and they all arrived here safely but almost two hours ago they all disappeared. We figure that Daxter took her somewhere safe but we haven't spared the resources to find them.' At his growl she interrupted him, poking a finger into his chest as she gestured to the Regulars that bustled around them. 'Don't you dare get sharp with me! There's a war on and I'll be damned if I'm going to waste men looking for Keira. She's with Daxter and he's with the Wastelanders. She's probably safer than we could make her.'

Jak relented with a growl, snatching up his shirt from the table and pulling it on as he slowly flexed his muscles, closing his hands into fists. A frown crossed his face, 'Has Erol re-appeared?'

Ashelin shook her head, 'No, we think that they're waiting for you to appear first so that he can be sure of beating you.'

Jak frowned, 'Then it's a stand off, neither of us can afford to be the first to attack.' He raised his eyes to her face, 'Can you win if neither of us takes part? Will the Regulars win?'

She shrugged, 'Hard to say. Torn's doing his best and so far their aggregate kills are higher than our but the relative losses are in our favour. We've killed about ten percent of their fighting force, but lost only seven. If this keeps up we should be able to pen them up inside the palace. But we won't be able to flush them out. That place is a fortress and while they still have Erol to lead them they won't give up.' She led him through the Underground base, acknowledging the salutes of soldiers whilst Jak ignored them, his face deep in dark though. 'Right now we need to talk. Torn needs to know a few things.'

Jak remained silent as he followed her into a small conference room, his eyes taking in Torn and Samos as they sat opposite the door at an old, worn table, maps strewn across it. From the looks of things Torn had been receiving little or no sleep since the battle at the palace, his eyes sunken behind dark bags but still bright and alert. Samos greeted him with a nod.

'Jak, how are you feeling?'

Jak frowned again, 'I'll live. It'll be a day or so before I'm ready to fight again though.' They all knew that he referred to his dark alter ego.

Torn grunted, a neutral sound of displeasure, 'Well Erol's not shown himself since the palace so he's unlikely to pop up before tomorrow anyway. I doubt he'll make an appearance until you do, or at least until we're knocking down the palace doors.'

Ashelin crossed to his side, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, 'Then we're winning?'

He nodded, 'For what it's worth. The Bazaar is ours but the troops are keeping out of range of the Palace defences, most of the industrial district is under our control as well. They're giving us some trouble in the aqueduct district but we've begun to push them back.' His eyes rose to Jak. 'But it won't do any good unless you're ready to face Erol when the time comes.

Jak stared hard at him for a moment, his hands clenching in tight fists, helpless rage barely held from his tone, 

'No, if we fight, he'll tear me apart…' A moment of shock ran through the group, each of them exchanging glances with the others as his words hung in the silence.

Samos was the one who broke it, 'But you were worn out last time, you'd just fought your way through half the Krimson Elite. Next time you'll be fresh, ready to fight him.'

Jak's eyes rose slowly, there was no doubt in them as they met Daxter's, merely a grave resignation, it was almost frightening to see it on his face that was usually so full of confidence. 'No. Think about it, he'd been fighting a lot longer than me and against much worse odds than me. When I fought through the palace I saw what he'd done. He'd used up twice as much energy as I had by the time we fought and he still beat me. If he fought me when we were both fresh he'd tear me apart.' 

His knuckles were white as he spoke, the sound of bones grinding together as he tightened his fist audible in the silence that followed his words. 'I don't stand a chance against him, he's a bigger and much more powerful monster than me.' Silence reigned again as they all thought on his words. If he was right, if Erol truly could beat him then all was lost. They could not fight the elite and Erol at the same time. But as a pall of gloom seemed to settle over the room a soft voice called all eyes to the doorway.

'Then don't fight him as a monster.' Keira stood in the doorway, once again dressed in a pair of mechanics' overalls, her eyes bore the spark of an idea, a small smile hovering about her lips as one hand rested on the duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

Jak was at her side in an instant, his eyes taking her in at a glance as he checked for injuries. His arms surrounded her and a look passed between them, shared relief of reunion and knowledge of each other's safety all communicated without words. He rested his forehead against hers for a moment and she smiled up at him, the look lighting something within him. He recognised that look.

Torn interrupted them as he raised an eyebrow, 'And just how to we get Erol to fight as a human? Ask real nice?'

Keira shrugged as she entered the room, leaning against a table as Jak stood beside her. 'Well you could try but I doubt it'd do much good. I was thinking along the lines of a slightly more forceful approach.' Jak watched her as she covered his fist with her hand, soothing him as he felt her smile bring a one to his face. She had a plan… she always had a plan. And now she was going to tell them all how to win, God, he had missed watching her do this.

Unzipping her duffel she pulled out a small canister, a tiny screen in its side showing a list of indecipherable data. She handed it to Jak for inspection as she began talking, those that knew her recognising the tone. This was Keira the Inventor speaking, the slight mechanic warming to her favourite subject as she sat on the bed beside her lover. 'I was up at the power plant earlier tampering with the grid, trying to find some way to maybe shut the palace down. I had to look through Vin's notes while I was there though and one thing that I found out about was the eco purification process. Dark Eco on its own is almost impossible to use, it's just too unstable and volatile. To turn it into eco energy to power things it has to be purified, this completely changes the properties of the eco, and the energy it emits after the process when it's pumped into the city grid is nothing like the dark eco.'

Taking the canister from Jak's hands she began tapping buttons on its side, 'The process is really carefully controlled because if it wasn't the purification element would simply destroy the dark eco energy. Cause you see, the power plant uses white eco.' As she spoke she slid back a small panel on the side of the canister and an ethereal glow lit up her features as a gleeful grin covered her face as it always did when she unveiled a new invention. 'This is sort of an eco bomb. If we open this anywhere around Erol it'll purify him just like it would in the power plant, only because it ain't controlled it'll get rid of the dark eco all together. Don't know quite how long it'll last, it could even a permanent change. But from some of the tinkering I did at the plant I'd say we should have at least an hour before the effects wear off. For that time whoever's exposed to it will be just a normal human.' She watched with that same grin on her face as the others in the room all stared at her with wide eyes, disbelief written on their faces, all except Jak's. He smiled at her as he draped an arm across her shoulders, turning her head toward him so that he could claim a kiss from her lips.

He stared into her eyes as a girlish giggle bubbled up inside her, a smirk on his face as he squeezed her shoulders, holding her close. 'I knew there was a reason I kept you around.' 

Samos grinned as he stroked his beard, eyeing the canister in his daughter's hands, 'It's the best idea I've heard yet.'

'Just a second,' Torn interrupted, 'Before we can do any of this we have to find a way to bring Erol out into the open though, and make sure we can kill him once the change occurs'

There was a strange look in Jak's eyes as he raised his stare to Torn, 'You leave that to me… I'll face him one on one, and finish it.'

'But that'll effect both of you, you'll both be human and he'll still have his bionic enhancements. He'll have the edge when you fight.'

Jak's eyes were dark as he spoke, a little of the rage that burned continuously inside him showing in his gaze, 'No he won't.' Even those who had only known him for a short time knew the truth of that look. Erol's enhancements wouldn't matter. He would not beat Jak, not now that Keira had given him a chance, given them all a chance.

****

A.N. Well there you have it. It's more of a filler chapter than anything else but it's one of those things that has to be done. The next chapter will be better and it will be up soon. Anyway, until then I bid you all farewell. Please review and tell me what you think, it only takes a minute and it really helps me get inspired.

Go with God

The Visionary


	7. A noble deed

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A.N. Greetings readers, and thank you so much for the support that you showed my last chapter. I truly cannot thank all of you enough, your reviews help to inspire me to write and without them this story would doubtless dry out so I must thank you once more for egging my on. 

A Hero

The throne room in Haven City was empty save for a single figure that slouched in the throne, the lights dimmed but for the pool around him, the night-time city far beneath lit by explosions and the flashes of gunfire. It was Michaels, the senator at the head of the New Order as he had dubbed his fledgling movement. A week ago the New Order had been almost two dozen senators but in the violence they had conveniently been killed, leaving him the sole leader of the troops even if they did not see him as such. In front of him a holoscreen showed a map of the city, figures scrolling past on the side as casualty reports flooded in.

He frowned as he watched the battle screen. The war was going badly. The primary mission of the strike on the palace had not been to take it over but to kill Torn. With him out of the way the Krimson Regulars would have been lost, true Ashelin may have rallied them but she could not command an army, not half so well as her partner. Taking it over had been a side-effect, allowing him to escape had been a failure.

The cost of that failure showed on the screen as he watched another report loose him another block and another dozen, irreplaceable men. The elite were not designed for a war of attrition and Torn's skill and the sheer tenacity of his men was wearing them down. For every Elite that was killed or wounded there was a gap in the line, for the Regulars, every time one went down two surged forward, spurred on to avenge their fallen comrades.

To make matters worse Haven City's citizens had taken to the streets in support of Ashelin, gangs of hundreds smashing apart his defences, the Elite overwhelmed by the tide of humanity that surged over them. The wars had meant that almost every citizen owned a weapon of some sort and now pistols, fire-lances, eco-rifles, all the weapons that had been turned on the metal-heads by the populace, were being turned on his elite. Ashelin's rallying call to the Regulars had been answered by more than just her troops and now the citizenry fought to overthrow the rebirth of the tyranny that had overshadowed their lives for so long.

They all thought that they fought Erol, how wrong they were. Erol was a fool, and an insane fool at that. Now that the treatments had twisted him he was barely above a rabid dog. Michaels himself was the real power, it had all been his idea, his plot, right from the starts. And now it was in ruins.

His frown deepened as he thought of the supposed general that should have led his troops. In his prime Erol was almost a match for Torn, he would have known how to if not take over the city, then at least defend what they had. Now however, his military mind was gone, consumed by what had been done to him. Now he was more an animal than a man. Michaels scowled, even that would not have been so bad if the damn puppet had just allowed his strings to be pulled. But no, he refused to be coaxed out of his chambers and onto the battle-lines. If he had joined the fray his power would have slaughtered the regulars and allowed Michaels the opening he needed to send his Elite in once more to eliminate Torn. 

Even if the expenditure weakened him enough for the boy king to kill him he was already dead anyway. The treatments were degenerative, he had a month, maybe two before the eco simply sapped his body dry of life. Michaels needed him to be useful for those two months, needed him to kill the regulars, to establish his base of power. Then when he died, a story of heroic sacrifice to blind the more gullible members of the public and a new iron fist backed by the Elite to impose order upon the rest. It had all been so well planned… 

With a snarl he changed the screen to the palace security system and selected the camera in Erol's room. The picture hissed with snow for a moment before clearing to show the once fine trappings of the palace room torn to shreds, the walls blackened and scarred by discharges of dark eco. Erol himself crouched in the centre of the room, hunched over as his claws slowly traced a crude drawing scratched into the floor-boards. He considered switching the feed to the camera built into Erol's chest but decided against it as he curled his lip in disgust, why was the creature so fixated on this Jak? If it were not for the hope that he might start to co-operate before the degeneration started Michaels would have detonated the safety device lodged in his spine when he first refused. He would only fight Jak. With a bad tempered grunt Michaels deactivated the screen, nothing would stop him from becoming the next King, nothing!

~

Far beneath the palace, in the slums the rest carried on with the business of war, unaware of their true opponent. Jak's internal clock awoke him at midnight, his eyes snapping open as his mind instantly became awake, his senses piercing the darkness. The bed beneath him was not as soft as the palace had been but it was comfortable, particularly with her pressed against him. The room was small, a private dorm for Underground officers that lay in one of the buildings around the base. Outside the ecotronic twilight of the city shed enough light through the curtains to let him see the sparse furnishings and white washed walls. He turned his attention to the beauty in his arms, ensuring that his waking had not disturbed her. 

She was dressed in a light shift and her body was curled against his, her forehead against his chest as they lay side by side, her arms curled between them, small hands resting as loose fists against his torso. He unwound his arms from her shoulders and slowly slid away from her, immediately missing the warmth of her body against his. He pushed the feeling aside, he could not afford to be soft. He had to do this tonight, now, before they could stop him. If everything went according to plan they would be together again when this was all over. He prayed that she'd forgive him for what would come before though. Silently he slipped into his clothes, pulling on his holster as he ran through the list of preparations he had made.

As he buttoned up his shirt his eyes caught on Keira's hand as it groped for his warmth in sleep. Gently he took it in his own and brought it to his cheek, pressing a soft kiss against her palm. Leaning over her he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before pressing a kiss to her forehead, squashing the voice that wanted to make him stay for the rest of the night. This had to be done now, before it was too late, for all of them. He straightened and slipped out of the door after casting one last glance over his shoulder at Keira, she would be fine, Daxter would look after her. 

They would try to stop him if they found out his plan, tell him that the risks were too high and so he moved stealthily as he put his plans into action. It was simple enough to get the white eco canister without any of the others knowing, two of Torn's regulars would wake up with headaches but nothing worse and a note left on his pillow beside Keira would absolve them of letting the enemy make off with the canister. It was marginally harder to slip out of the base and into the sewers but Jak managed it with little difficulty. He had learned to stalk animals in the Forbidden Jungle that could hear a footstep from a half-mile away even in the dense vegetation and smell a predator long before that. Compared to them Krimson regulars were almost too easy, especially when they were in a maze like the Slums where every building had a dozen places to crouch into shadows or hand-holds enough to climb silently.

He knew roughly were to go, a hushed conversation with Bruter over a com the night before had provided him a map. He had memorised and then destroyed it to disallow any of them following him, this he had to do alone. He padded along the dim passages of the sewers with his rifle in hand in case any of the resident creatures took a fancy to him for a meal but the closest he came to confrontation was pairs of glowing eyes that watched him as he passed. The creatures in the sewers knew a better predator when they saw one, and stayed clear when he was on the hunt. 

He descended lower and lower until he had gone beyond the maze of tunnels that were still in use and down into deeper, ancient caves, tunnels constructed during Marr's time. As he left the last light behind him he pulled a small orb from the pack slung at his hip, a quick shake setting off the chain reaction within and casting a pale white glow across his face. He looked at the shaft below him and his keen eye-sight picked out the tell tale signs in the gloom.

For the most part it seemed a natural formation, twenty feet across with rough, uneven walls of uncut stone. But every now and again if you knew what to look for you could see where a handhold had been carved into the cliff face and could follow the trail down to a deeper shadow within the gloom. One of the hidden entrances to the Lurker caves. He let out a low whistle and there was a rustle of movement and the faint sound of a match being struck. The flickering glow of firelight lit the tunnel entrance for a moment before an over-large figure leant out over the abyss as though the drop were nothing, a crooked smile crossing his face as he took in Jak.

'Hello Lurker friend! Bruter not forget his promise, you help Lurker people many times and now we help you to fight the black one.' He was the same as all the lurkers in Haven, his scaly skin a rich, vermilion purple that made him melt into darkness, his face bearing large, white eyes and a smile full of large, pointed teeth.

Jak nodded his thanks as he clambered down onto the rock-face and began to descend toward the tunnel entrance, his fingers fitting easily into spaces designed for lurker hands. He clambered swiftly around the shaft wall until he was within arms length of the tunnel entrance and Bruter leant out and seized a handful of his collar. The strength in his arms bellied the vacant grin on his face and he neatly plucked Jak from the wall and hauled him into the entrance as though he weighed nothing, depositing him inside the tunnel where he immediately crushed him in a voluminous hug. Jak tried not to think about the bottomless drop that the Lurker had held him over not a moment ago as he lightly patted Bruter's back, genuinely happy to see the Lurker leader.

'Thank you Bruter. When this is over I'll make sure that you and your people don't have to live down here anymore, I promise.'

The lurker gave him a curious look and chuckled as though amused as he turned and began to walk with Jak down the tunnel, 'Why we want to move friend Jak? We've already built our city down here.'

They passed a side passage and for a moment Jak glimpsed wooden and metal houses built into the ancient cavern beyond, ecotronic lights illuminating the lumbering figures of dozens of lurkers as they moved among them. Before he could stop however Bruter hurried him on, a small smile on his face, 'We like it down here! It's warm when you are cold on the surface and cool when you are hot. Why we want to move?'

Jak grinned and patted his friends shoulder as they continued. 'Well maybe I'll see about getting a lift put in or something so you can get about easier.'

Bruter grinned as he held his torch out ahead and continued down the tunnel with his lumbering gait, 'That would be nice. It takes a long time to haul our goods to the surface. You would be doubly lurker friend if you could make it so that we could get things to bazaar easy.' They continued through the passages, some natural, some ancient and metal, others more crude, obviously lurker handiwork. As they travelled Jak caught sight of a half dozen other lurker towns and guessed that they must have been living down here for years, maybe even generations if what they had carved out of the stone was any indication. Finally they came to a passage that had the look of at one point being important, it's arched ceiling high and vaulted, ancient metal still inlaid with the tracery of decoration.

Bruter held the torch up and took in the vast double-doors that lay at it's end. 'Here it is, entrance to under-palace from old time. The metal-headers and red men don't know it's here since it's so far down from where they live but if you be smart you can climb up to palace from here.'

Jak smirked, this was perfect. He clapped Bruter on the shoulder as he grinned, 'Thank you Bruter. You've just saved me a whole lot of grief.'

Bruter's face broke into a grin that would've made most go weak at the knees as fangs that could crush bone to powder glinted in the torch-light. Another crushing embrace enveloped Jak.

'You be careful when you face the black one. Lurkers have seen him, he's bad, bad smell. Smell like death. No want Lurker friend to be hurt.'

Jak patted the duffel bag at his side as he unholstered his rifle once more, 'Don't you worry Bruter, everything's gonna be fine.'

The lurker shrugged, 'Me hope so. Good luck Jak!' Another hug and then he was off, his form quickly fading along with its circle of torch light as Jak pulled out another glow-globe. He looked up at the doors and took in a deep breath.

'Let's do this.'

~

It was almost an hour before he had ascended to the place he wanted, an hour of wriggling through cave-ins and wandering long-forgotten, archaic passage-ways until he found a suitable battle-ground. He stood alone in the hall, slouching leisurely against one of the pillars, his eyes roaming across the different features of the room, noting the scars that had been left by the battles that had scoured them in the mists of time. Beside him on the floor was a small black duffel bag, the metallic clink as he straightened and its contents shifted against his leg telling of machinery within. He ran a hand through his hair, taking in a deep breath. For a moment he paused, stillness surrounding him for a moment before he smiled. He could sense Erol, there, above him, just as Erol could sense him down here. He would come, just as Jak wanted. He would come and they would settle this without eco, without anything but their fists. A certainty filled him, Erol would die today, here, in this hall.

He let a small smile cross his face as he began to limber up, knowing that a fight was about to ensue. He stretched and rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles as he again caught a whiff of Erol's pungent, rotting scent and turned to where the monster would enter. This far below the main floors of the palace the great doors had rusted shut but that did not stop Erol. A thunder crack split the silence of the room and the doors shattered. The left one twisted and buckled with the sound of tortured metal before it was torn apart and the right one swung violently inwards, hanging off its ancient hinges as the dust of the explosion washed over Jak.

He coughed, bringing an arm up to cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve as he squinted against the blast. As it settled he let out a small smirk as he took in the creature that awaited him. Erol had become worse since their last fight. He was still the same twisted creature of black hide and machinery but he seemed to have regressed, his shoulders hunched over as though he were some sort of beast, his proportions changed more and more by the passing of time. Even his eyes had changed beneath that terrible mask, loosing a little of their malevolent gleam only to be replaced by pure animalistic hatred. Jak grimaced, even if he was a figurehead Erol was certainly no leader, he did not seem to have the intelligence of a metalhead behind those eyes. Still, taking him down was something he had to do, no matter what it cost him, he could worry about killing the brains once he had killed the brawn.

'Hello Erol.' His voice was a taunt as he picked up the duffel bag and slung it casually over his shoulder. The creature looked at him for a moment, uncomprehending of his confidence then roared and moved like lightning. Dark eco trailed behind him as he flashed across the gap in an instant, faster than even Jak's eye could follow. His hand closed around Jak's neck, plucking him from the ground and smashing him into the opposite wall with enough force to send a shock of pain across the young fighter's face. That terrible mask leaned down until it was only inches from his face, rancid breath blasting across his features from behind it.

'You're a fool to come here boy! I was hoping that you'd at least make a hunt of it before I killed you.' The voice reflected the eyes, nothing but rage and hatred in it. Erol never noticed Jak's hand slip into his boot until there was the sharp, hard sound of metal puncturing metal as Jak's boot knife slammed into something in the duffel bag.

A smirk crossed Jak's face as he stared up at the mask, defiance gleaming in his eyes. 'Surprise!'

The ruptured canister detonated a moment later in a blaze of white eco that threw both men aside like rag dolls, wiping their vision clear as it seared into their every vein and nerve, overloading their minds with sensation. There was an instant of pain as their mind screamed with sensation and then It became glorious, to put it mildly. White eco was pure life energy, to bathe in it was to know rapture, many of Haven's elite had once used it as a drug just for this reason. For a moment Jak forgot all about the battle, all about Erol, all about everything except for the wonder that filled him, surely this must be heaven.

Then his body hit something, hard and unyielding and he was jolted back to reality as he found himself face-down on the floor. He tried to get up and failed, his vision still blurred by the sensations his mind unwilling to acknowledge any need except that to bathe in the afterglow of the white eco. But he pushed it aside, forcing his mind to connect to his muscles and push himself onto his hands and knees as his whole body erupted in protest.

Jak felt his stomach heave but refused to let his last meal empty itself onto the floor. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the euphoria of the white eco, searching for his anger, letting his eyes clear of the haze of paradise and focus once more on the grim reality. He felt his body return to him, his muscles tensing as he pushed himself up to his knees, letting the rage feed him once more, drawing on it, letting it give him focus. This bastard had tried to kill him, kill his friends, kill Keira. It was only fair he received the same.

He heard a scream of hatred and his eyes rose to take in Erol, his body once more human, the white eco cleansing him, healing his horrific injuries just as it had his, the skin married to his bionics now pale and smooth. It had even healed whatever had been done to his face, the mask now held in place only by its straps. It was plain from the wild, bewildered look the eyes behind it that the dark eco had been banished from his body just as it had from Jak's. Jak smirked and their eyes locked, burning blue against boiling darkness.

Erol's voice grated, the bionics still granting him a monster's voice behind his mask. 'What the hell did you do to me, boy?'

Jak let his breathing even as he forced himself to his feet, drawing on the almost forgotten feeling of free eco in his body, no longer the oppressive power of the pooled darkness but the wild exhilaration of white. He smirked as he answered, rolling his shoulders in a subtle display of strength as his hands curled into fists. 'Evened the playing field you bastard. The white eco's destroyed the dark eco inside us, locked it away, right now, you and me are just normal humans. Don't know how long it'll be before it comes back, if ever, but for now, we're both human again and it's time to fight on my terms.' His face hardened and he spat his words at Erol, 'Today you get yours you Bastard!'

Erol's face showed bewilderment for a moment before it once more twisted in hatred, a roar tearing from him as he leapt at Jak. His evil, bionic hand thrust forward, powerful, razor sharp fingers seeking his throat as his face twisted into a snarl, the hatred that had fuelled him for so long burning bright in his gaze. In his mind Erol already knew what would happen, could already feel the soft flesh of Jak's throat yield to his metal fingers as he cut off his air and slashed his windpipe open. He could already hear the choking gasps as the arrogant fool struggled for breath and his life-blood gushed out, could already see the light in his eyes die. Only his fingers never found Jak's throat.

A second before Erol was on him Jak's fist whipped out with a cold economy of movement, the blow catching him full in the face. It was a whole body movement, his muscles snapping like a whip as his fist lashed into Erol's mask. It shattered as the force of the blow whipped Erol's body backward, reversing his flight, landing him on his rear as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He choked on blood for a moment as it suddenly swilled into his mouth, his tongue feeling the jagged edges of broken teeth as the coppery taste spilled down his throat and his mask fel away from his face. He thrust the pain aside, his eyes locking in hatred on the man standing over him as his bionic arm twisted into a ready position. 

He expected Jak to follow the rules of a fair fight and let him get up, planning on using the chance to steady his swimming vision. Only Jak did not follow the rules, not anymore, the young innocent that Erol had captured so easily two years ago was gone and even without the dark eco empowering him, Jak was not one to be trifled with. That boy would have let him get up, tried to find a way out, asked him to surrender. But Jak knew better now, once you were committed to a course of action you didn't let anything get in your way. He was committed to this fight, to winning, and win he would. Erol tried to leap upward, his metal hand already flashing toward Jak's guts, expecting to find him unprepared. He was not. With a strange, athletic grace Jak twisted, the metal hand flashing past him as he used the spin to propel his fist into the side of the head of Erol's head. 

Stars burst in his vision as the blow clouted him in the temple and pitched him sideways, the strength in his opponent's arms enough to send him sprawling. Jak's boot thudded into his ribs as he struggled to rise and Erol's mouth opened in a gasp as the air was driven from his lungs despite the protection of his chest-plate, blood spattering the pavement as it flowed out with the gasp. Instinct kicked in and he threw himself upward, swinging wildly as he rose, a scream of rage keening from his mouth. Jak ducked aside and the metal fist swept past his head but then gasped in pain as Erol's second blow hit his stomach.

To most people it would have put them on their knees but Jak had spent two years learning to live with pain, spent another six months learning how to fight, the hard way. His response was immediate and brutal, his left clipping across Erol's jaw as he brought his right up in a merciless blow. His punch jammed into Erol's windpipe, the mechanics lodged there screaming as Erol suddenly choked, his artificial breath turning to sharp, panicked gasps. 

Jak's eyes narrowed as he picked his moment and moved instantly, locking his left around Erol's throat to hold him in place as his right tightened into an iron-hard club and pulled back. His first blow broke his jaw, his second his nose, his third blinded his left eye, his fourth cracked his cheekbone. Erol's face was a bloody mess as a strangled scream of hate and rage bubbled up inside him, the blood in his eyes blinding him as he slashed at Jak with his mechanical hand, forcing him to relinquish his death grip as he leapt backward. His bionics kept him alive and conscious as he staggered to his feet, wordless sounds of hatred forcing their way from his throat as his clawed hand twitched with the animalistic need to kill the untouched figure before him.

He leapt forward again, his claws aimed at Jak's head as he brought them around in a wide, sweeping arc. But once more Jak moved with the grace and ease of experience as he span aside, ducking the blow as his leg whipped out and around. Erol had no time to react as his legs were clipped from under him, a dismayed cry rising from his lips as he smashed into the ground. But once more his enhancements kept him in the fight, a snarl rising from his lips as he leapt to his feet and span around. Jak watched him coolly as he simply stepped down into his fighting crouch once more, waiting for his next attack.

'I'm going to kill you boy! I'm going to kill you!' His voice was a shrill scream, his eyes like those of a wild animal, locked upon his face.

'No.' Jak's reply was low but delivered in that slow, dangerous tone that had been the last thing so many had heard. 'You're the only one that's going to die here.'

Erol screamed once more and charged, his clawed hand held forward as his legs pumped the ground, driving him heedlessly onward. Jak 's arm moved faster than could be believed as the two clashed. It drove into Erol's mechanical elbow like a battering ram, knocking his attack aside as his other whipped out and gripped his shoulder, the second joining it as the two leant against each other, each straining to gain an advantage as they wrestled. Erol gritted his teeth, spitting his words out as his tortured muscles strained to gain him an advantage 'Damn you… I deserve… throne… Keira.'

Jak's eyes narrowed as his muscles bunched, ignoring the pain as blood began to drip from his shoulder as Erol's claws dug into his skin. 'No. After all the pain you've caused. After all the people you've killed, you deserve exactly what you're getting.' 

Suddenly his knee came up and into Erol's belly, driving the breath from his lungs, his mouth opened as he coughed up a spatter of blood and Jak's hand suddenly rose. Erol felt cold, hard, metal push between his teeth before Jak's uppercut shut whatever it was in his mouth. It took him half a second to realise that it was a grenade as Jak smirked.

'Go to hell Erol, it's what you deserve.' With that he drove a kick into his chest and knocked him backward. He fell, his eyes widening in sheer terror as his hands rose to scrabble uselessly at the eco-detonator in his mouth. Then it quite literally, blew his head off, and most of his chest.

Jak turned away as the grenade went off, he had no wish to see such a horrible spectacle, not even when it happened to Erol. He was glad that the impulse to watch had not been in him, it was what separated him from that animal, what made him know that Keira's attempts to return to him his humanity had been successful. Then the sound of armoured boots clattering upon ancients stone filled his ears and the Elite swarmed into the hall.

****

A.N. There you have it, another chapter completed and an extra long one to make up for previous delays. I thank you all once again for your indulgence on that matter. On a different note, several people have mentioned that my writing could benefit from proof-reading to help weed out mistakes, if anyone would be interested in offering me such a service I would be most grateful. As always, all your reviews and e-mails are warmly welcomed and I shall try to have the next chapter up within two weeks as this one was. Please, tell me what you thought of this battle and of the new developments that have suddenly snatched away what should have been final victory.


	8. Devil's Dealings

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A.N. I can't really say anything about how long this chapter has taken except to apologise. The past few weeks… months really have been totally hectic at my college and in my personal life so this was forced to take a back seat, a fact for which I must apologise once more. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this latest instalment, thank you to all of you who have reviewed so far, if it wasn't for your encouragement I'd have never managed to get this chapter out. In a twist the greatest praise must go to Curiosity Inc whose sterling reviews have helped me pull myself back into writing, other personal thanks must go to Lady Xiu Mei Pheonix and Pheonix Flower who have both been with me since the start ; ) thanks a lot for all your support guys. Now then, on with the show:

The Visionary

Chapter Eight- A Deal with the Devil

Jak held his hands slightly out from his body as the elite flooded in, over thirty of them, golden armoured and each bearing in his hands a heavy-duty fire-lance. They were slower firing than their lighter cousins but with the power to stop a hellcat cruiser when they hit. They slowed to a halt at the doors that Erol had thrown open, glancing at the body on the floor and the gruesome remnants scattered across the hall. For a long moment no one moved, their fire-lances held loosely toward the ground and Jak's rifle still in its holster.

He cursed silently, with the aid of his dark alter ego even these thirty would have barely been a challenge but he was without that avenue. One hand drifted an inch closer to his rifle and thirty fire-lance tips raised a fraction. Whatever they had been expecting it was not to find him standing over what had been Erol and that gave him an advantage. He licked his lips, it would be about thirty seconds before that advantage was gone though, he had to think of something, fast.

His eyes darted to the small floor-grille that had allowed him access, fifteen metres, they could each get off at least two shots each in the time it would take to dive down and escape. What were the chances of sixty shots missing? With the Elite? Infinitesimally small, even regulars would easily take him down with those odds. A grenade? He had two left, one would take out three, stun maybe a half-dozen more considering how bunched up they were but that left twenty, still forty shots. Escape was not going to work.

He remembered the look in Erol's eyes as he took in the emotionless visors of their helmets, hiding whatever thoughts clouded their faces. Those eyes had been an animal's eyes. Those eyes would not have called for thirty Elite to back him up. He had been right, Erol had been a figurehead, the brawn, these men were working for the brains, and there was only one man he knew of who qualified. He kept his voice even, never letting his hand move away from his rifle or his grenades. God he hoped this would work.

'Tell Minister Michaels that I want to speak with him.' It worked, the Elite glanced at each other, none of them officers and so none of them prepared to take charge. Jak tried not to make a sound as he let out the breath he had been holding in. He built the power in his voice, as though he had every right to expect obedience. 'Well? You heard me! I know that he sent you down here to find out what happened to Erol. Now you know. So go tell Michaels that Jak Marr has an offer for him.' The tone and the name worked together to nourish the seed of confusion in them. Their training meant that not a single fire-lance turned away from him nor a single eye left him but several of them leant closer together, talking in low, urgent tones. It was a tense moment as one of them spoke into the communicator in his helmet and Jak's fingers twitched closer to his grenades, both of them and there would only be ten shots, those odds were better, not good, but better.

Then the self-appointed spokesman for the Elite gestured to through the doorway with his fire-lance, stepping aside as the others cleared a channel. 'Come with us! Michaels will see you in the throne room.'

Jak strode forward, letting none of his raw nerves show, 'About damn time!'

The Elite followed him cautiously, filling the corridors behind him with their fire-lances trained on his back. Jak kept his eyes forward, fighting to keep his hands steady as the space between his shoulder-blades itched, expecting at any moment to feel the searing heat and pain as a bolt of yellow and red eco punched him to the floor. It was easy enough to follow the trail that the Elite had followed to find him, Erol had not been stealthy in his descent and tracks of scorched wall and shattered ancient doorways marked his path clearly. The Elite were never more than two paces behind him however and every side-passage that could have offered him escape was too wide and too smooth to offer him enough cover to make good on any attempt.

He was never scared, the emotion had been bled out of him in the two years of torture that had made him what he was. But he was close as he walked ever upward, mind racing as he tried to think of a way out of this. Drawing Erol out into the city so that the canister could have been used on him alone and left him open to Jak would have cost dozens, maybe scores of lives. But levelling the playing field between them as he had, by coming here on his own... Keira was never going to forgive him if he died.

They rose through the levels until they reached the current palace rooms, Jak's eyes taking in the fresher scars that marked these walls, evidence of the conflict that had scoured these halls just days ago. An elevator provided him the best opportunity but he decided against snapping the necks of the two nervous guards that flanked him. He had no control over the elevator's destination and there would be dozens waiting for him when the doors opened. Then his thoughts were whipped back to the present as he suddenly found himself striding through the throne room doors.

If it had been damaged in the earlier battle the signs had been cleared away, the massive, high arched walls smooth and polished, the glass above letting the sunlight filter in clearly, lighting everything in deep but natural shadows. It was a peculiarly serene setting considering the violence that was being wrought below in the city. As he stalked in his eyes found Michaels sitting on the throne. A hasty honour guard had been cobbled together and a dozen elite flanked him on either side. However it was plain that they were only newly returned from battle, dirt and dust staining their armour. Jak tried not to let his relief show. Michaels was taking his offer seriously enough to expend resources putting on an appearance of authority.

He strode forward and stopped a few paces short of the honour guard, not giving them the chance to force him to a halt. He had learned during his time intertwined with haven City's under-belly that at a time like this authority counted for everything. He had learned fast every trick there was in gaining it.

Michaels stared at him over steepled fingers, slouching so that he fit in the throne designed for a larger frame. His eyes had a haggard, tired look to them but still bore a malevolent spark in their depths, the suits he had worn as a minister swapped for an attempt at the Baron's old armour to give him some of that old authority. However to Jak's eyes the effect was diminished as he saw that the plates ill-fitted his small frame, the suit obviously cobbled together from spares rather than custom made.

'Give me one good reason that I should let you live?'

Jak shrugged as though the answer were obvious, 'Because Erol's dead. The people would have followed him, you'd have run it I know but he would have been the figurehead, at least for a little while. They won't follow you, even if you win. They'll follow me though, you need me alive.'

'What do you want?' Michael's voice was hard and even and Jak knew that he still had to play this carefully.

'To get out of the city.'

Michael's eyebrows raised a fraction; Jak had piqued his interest. 'What about the cause of the people? What about your precious Governor?'

Jak sneered, 'You honestly think I care about them? After all that this city has done to me I couldn't care less if the whole damn thing disappeared. Hell, I'd like it to. I only fought for them because of Erol, me and him… we had business. Now that that's over, I just want out. I'll do whatever it takes to get there.'

'Even betray your friends?'

Jak shrugged, 'Sure, they aren't my friends. I don't know what I can tell you though. They didn't trust me anymore than I trusted them. I'll smile for your cameras if that's what you want.'

Michaels stared at him for a moment, 'What about Keira?'

Jak shrugged again, 'What about her? She was a good lay.' Guilt clawed at his insides but he refused to let it show. This conversation was about survival. His conscience could kick him in the belly later.

Michaels glanced over Jak's shoulder and Jak's eyes followed his gaze to find an elite pointing a strange device at him, the soldier shaking his head slowly. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. That was a lie detector.

"Oh sh"

Keira sat quietly on her bed the note forgotten beside her as she stared at the opposite wall, the whitewashed plaster stained by age to a duller hue. Daxter had insisted that in Jak's absence she stay with him and her room looked out onto the harbour from above the Naughty Ottsel, the sun shining down onto the deserted streets and undisturbed surface of the water. Those civilians that had opted to remain out of the fighting remained behind closed doors as much as though could. Not that there was much chance of being caught in the crossfire around the harbour, most of the fighting was now exclusively around the palace.

The Regulars were winning, slowly but surely the Elite had been pushed back. Throughout the city civilians had answered the rallying call and fought side by side with the regulars. What had started out as barely fifteen thousand troops had swelled until now the estimates were at almost a million. With barely five thousand Elite, Michaels' troops were outnumbered almost two hundred to one. The city belonged to Torn and Ashelin but both of them had forbidden a strike on the palace. Though the automated defences were not working the manually operated ones were fully functional and with them at their command the elite would turn any head-on assault into a blood bath. Though victory would nonetheless be all but assured Torn was not willing to give Michaels the satisfaction of taking thousands of innocents with him to the grave.

She sighed as she stood, moving to her window. The longer he held off the longer she would be left wondering. Jak had told her in his letter, told her what he planned, told her that in all likelihood he would be forced to ride out the war hiding within the palace. She prayed he would only be hiding and not captured, or worse. She shook the thoughts from her mind; it did no good to dwell on such things. She turned her eyes to the horizon, as she ran her mind over the various jobs that she could do to keep herself busy. As she made to turn away to begin one such task a ripple caught her attention.

Curious, her eyes narrowed as she leaned out, opening the window to afford herself a better view. Shadows caught her gaze, strange, sinuous shapes that slid in and out of focus on the surface of the water. For a moment she glanced skyward, cloud shadows? No, it was a clear sky, and besides, she had seen ripples, she was sure of it. Could it just be a trick of the light? No, there they were again. She frowned, they looked familiar there was something in the way they moved. Another hint of movement, this time almost where the water met the street. Her mouth went dry as beneath the surface of the water she caught sight of a pair of malevolently glowing eyes, and then another, and then another.

She turned to cry out a warning but it was already too late. The metalheads burst forth from the water in the same instant that the first volley smashed into the Naughty Ottsel. Her warning turned to a shrill cry as seething bolts of dark eco smashed the flimsy wall apart, her window shattering as plaster and brick work showered her in a cloud of dust and debris. A gaping wound was opened up in the wall as the two wastelanders two wastelanders that had been charged with guarding the door of the Ottsel went down, their guns silenced swiftly but their cries lost beneath the rising din. These were no mere grunts that had come to the Ottsel, these were Metalhead soldiers, the elite of the metalhead ranks, hatched in pools of dark eco and effused with its power.

But as they smashed through and into the bar on the ground floor gunfire rose once more, the veteran hunters showing the metalheads how they had earned such a fearsome reputation as even the elite were driven back. But this was lost on Keira as she groped for the pistol that Daxter had left on her bedside table, her doors banging open as the two wastelanders set to guard her rushed to her aid. Outside the metalheads however had been swift and just as they burst in the first of the soldiers hooked a claw onto the rough ledge and hauled itself up. But once more the wastelanders showed their mettle and as soon as it's roaring head appeared above the ruined brickwork a blaster bolt took it in the throat, sending it tumbling backward onto those below. Yet before the wastelanders could pull her to safety another of the creatures was in the room, leaping the stonework with supernatural swiftness. A bolt took it in the chest in mid air as the second of the wastelanders knelt and sent a shot into a third, the two holding their own against even these creatures.

But the assault was determined and just as one turned to Keira to pull her to her feet a salamander on the street below sent a charge spinning into the room, the dark eco detonating with a hiss. One of the wastelanders was thrown backward, into the corridor as heat blasted his features and the other stumbled away from the blast, swatting wildly at the flames that licked at the material of his jacket.

As shadows filled the hole once more Keira's hand finally closed on the pistol and she span, snapping off shots wildly. More by luck than judgement her first shot took one of them in the eye and it went down, it's head jerking backward with a harsh crack. But before she could re-aim a second swatted the pistol out of her hands, a clawed hand reaching out to seize her shoulder. Lifting her as though she were a rag-doll the metalhead span and hurled her back through the hole with a howl of triumph. For it's trouble it died as the wastelander cast aside his jacket and blew a hole in its chest, his partner reappearing to blast two more of them from the small room

Below too the metalheads were driven back as more wastelanders arrived from the back rooms of the Ottsel, Sig and Daxter at their head, the element of surprise now lost to the metalheads. But it was too late for Keira as she found herself seized in an iron grip, claws closing around each of her limbs as the metalheads lumbered away from the ottsel, moving with strict purpose. Terrified citizenry, fearing a second invasion on top of the civil war did not interfere with them as a small knot of soldiers raced through the streets with her struggling figure in their midst.

Back at the ottsel the wastelanders swarmed out onto the streets, weapons fire picking off the last of the metalheads as they scattered. As they retook the street Daxter turned upon Sig's shoulder his eyes rising to take in what had been the front of Keira's room. As the two wastelanders that had been at her door appeared in the opening he swore,

'Where's Keira?' He shouted up, already staring frantically around the street.

'They took her! She was alive! Four, maybe five soldiers got her, headed east!'

Before Daxter could think Sig had already given orders, his huge frame belying the speed with which he moved. 'Mount up! We're getting the girl back!'

His speeder was parked alongside the others of the wastelanders and with a roar of engines they began to take off, a column of fighters speeding through the streets, ignoring the last of the metalheads as they slid into the water but instead watched for any of them bunched together. On Sig's shoulder Daxter hung on as his massive speeder roared through the streets, the wastelanders spreading out around them, their smaller speeders darting down alleys and side streets, sharp eyes searching every shadow and crevice.

A shout went up as gunfire erupted once more a little ahead of Sig's speeder and he gunned the engine, roaring around the corner and onto another main street as the wastelanders converged. The sight that greeted their eyes was the last any of them expected to see. A sewer entrance had been opened, the large, powered doors begin to close over human figures armoured in the gold of elite, metalheads moving in their midst. With a snarl Sig gunned his engine and flew straight at them but it was too late. Shots hissed past him on either side until one struck his speeder a fatal blow, the bike disintegrating under the wastelander even as he fired wildly through the dwindling portal. The blast of his fuel tank detonating threw him tumbling to the ground even as the doors slammed shut and by the time he had rolled to a stop before them they were sealed, the wrecked control panel beside them showing that the elite had expected and denied him pursuit.

As Sig roared his frustration Daxter slumped against the walls, tiny fists pounding uselessly on the metal panelling as he screwed his eyes shut. He'd messed up, he'd really, really messed up. Oh Jak was going to be really, really, really angry.

'Sig, get the boys together see if you can find another entrance and track those guys.' Even as Sig rose to obey they both knew it was a futile effort, the sewers under Haven City were a warren of shafts and passages, it was impossible to find someone down there. Not if they didn't want to be found.

Michaels smirked as a coded transmission appeared on his screen, only a few cryptic words but ones that he had been waiting for with baited breath. His insurance was in place. His smile grew, they had all been so stupid to forget the metalheads. Erol, Torn, Ashelin, even Jak had never wondered what part the creatures could play in the future of the city, even after their convenient incursion had allowed him to take over the palace they still had not realised that something guided them still.

Without their leader they were slaves of eco, whoever could give them a purified source became in effect, their God. With the drill platform still under his control, that was he. It was true that after their initial massacre in that final battle of the Praxis War there had not been many left and even those numbers had been positively butchered in the run up to his coup. But there were still enough left for small operations and though they were by no means the smartest creatures, they could obey orders unflinchingly.

There were not enough to combat the huge numbers of regulars and militia that surrounded his palace even now but his technicians would soon see to that. Ashelin had not been as thorough as she thought in disabling the city's automated security grid and once it was back online he would be able to slaughter her army and close an iron fist over the city. He could already imagine the whine of the turbo cannons as they came online and burst into life throughout the city. Her and her precious fighters would be thrown back into the slums where the grid barely existed and the rest of the city would be his. After that it would only be a matter of time before he was able to root them out. Victory would be his, he would snatch it from the very jaws of defeat and not even their pet king could save them, not while Michaels held his heart in a vice.

Jak awoke slowly, his head throbbing as he blinked to clear the spots dancing in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and swore as it touched a tender spot, warmth coating his fingers as they recoiled. With hazy vision he stared at his fingers. Blood. Hs memories returned and he swore quietly. Well, that could have gone better. Still, some of what he'd said had been true and Michaels knew it. That was probably the only reason he was still alive, Michaels would need him to smile for the cameras and endorse him when, if, he won.

His hand automatically felt for his weapon belt. It was gone. A quick mental checklist of the other weapons he'd been carrying revealed they'd remembered the knife in his right boot but not bothered to search for the one he could still feel in his left. The one-shot was gone from his right forearm and so was the plastic explosive hidden in his goggles. He had one knife… but it was a knife they didn't know he had. It could be worse.

His eyes rose to take in his cell and he suppressed a growl, it was one of the lower dungeon cells, the same kind that had held him for two years. The walls were bare stone, dripping with mildew, the single rusted bed in the room draped with a thread-bare blanket and a mattress that was probably older than he was. Above him a single light bulb glimmered dully, barely lighting the small room. The door was the only thing in the room to show signs of care, solid, thick and metal, cold steel layered into a construction that would give even Dark Jak trouble in breaking through. Still, there was always the knife, you'd be amazed what you could do with a knife.

He turned at a sound behind him, a holographic communicator showing him Michael's head as the senator stared down at him.

He tried to sound nonchalant, 'I may have lied but I'm not stupid. You need me to smile for the cameras if you win this war. So now that you've had some time to think, what do you say to my offer Michaels?'

The Senator smiled at him, an oily, smirk, 'I saw that I can make you an offer that you can't refuse.'

Something in his voice told Jak that this was serious, 'Go on.' He said slowly.

'Well, funny thing is you see my men caught this little girl sneaking around the city. You'll never guess who it was…

****

A.N I'm quite happy with the way this chapter came out and I promise you that now that I've got going again the next post will be made within a week. I hope that I haven't become rusty without the practise so please tell me what you thought of this latest chapter. Anyway, thank you again for your patience and I hope that you all enjoy this chapter as much as you seem to have enjoyed the others.

Go with God

The Visionary


	9. A child shall lead them

A.N. Okay, a new chapter, and as promised a swift one. I hope you enjoy it and that a little of my old skill has returned with practise. As always, my thanks to all of you who reviewed my last chapter and I hope that you will continue to provide feedback with this latest instalment. As for the comment about my use of speechmarks I would like to point out that using "" is an American technique that has become popular recently. As a British student I was taught to use the single marks and therefore have done so in my writing. I apologise if this has caused confusion but in my writing single marks will always indicate speech. Oh and for those of you who were curious, I'm male. Now that that's all cleared up, on with the story.

The Visionary

**Chapter Nine- A Child Shall Lead Them**

"Inside the palace"

The hall was wide but dimly lit, crates stacked at odd intervals all along its length. At one end a wide, spiral set of stairs ascended to ground level and the rest of the palace while a half dozen side-passages and corridors led off to the various cellblocks. The last of them, the worst of the cells was behind the last door at the end of the corridor, the thick bolts slammed home and held in place be heavy, mechanical locks, virtually impervious unless one had the correct key. All along the corridor automated defences rested lifelessly in their posts, the firepower that should have protected against any prison break deactivated along with the rest of the city grid. It was unusual indeed to see servants down this low but the last few days had seen a multitude of unusual events, compared to some this was positively mundane.

Samantha could never remember being this scared, not even when the guards had taken her away to be beaten. If they were caught doing this then she would not be beaten, she would be killed. Michaels was worse than the Baron, maybe even worse than Erol, he would never let any of them live, but they had to do it. This was their only chance. She crouched in the corner outside the doorway, trying to melt into the shadows as she held the pack in her hands close to her chest, hunched over it as though to protect it's precious contents.

She glanced up at her sister, a tall, slender woman of twenty-four, her curly hair blonde just as Samantha's was, enough of a similarity in their soft features to make their sisterhood obvious. Both were dressed in the white of servants their dresses light and flowing despite the tepid air. Miranda smiled down at her reassuringly, nodding once before she pressed the call button beside the cell block door. A few moments later a helmet appeared in the opening, the elite staring out at Miranda as he brandished his fire lance.

'What do you want? Slaves aren't allowed here!' He snapped.

Miranda lowered her eyes, her fear only half an act, 'His Majesty Michaels sent me Sir. He wanted me to tell you that you are needed at the western sub-gate. The rebels have begun a push there.' She hid her trembling hands by clasping them in front of her, willing herself to stillness.

It was a half-truth, Torn had been doing a masterful job of keeping the palace's outer defences off balance for the past two days since he had retaken the rest of the city. Artillery, rockets and surgical strikes by flights of hellcats and infantry had kept Michael's troops in constant movement trying to guess where he would attack or bombard next. Yet for all of this he had yet to make it within the palace walls for the inner defences could not be touched by his long-range counter-measures. Any attack that strayed from beneath that protective umbrella was immediately cut to pieces by cunningly engineered kill-zones or in some cases simple armour. He had probably heard some of the com chatter caused by their latest attack, but if he called central for confirmation of the orders they were dead. A moment stretched into eternity as Samantha and Miranda both held their breaths before the Elite let out a laugh.

'Finally!' Turning he called down the corridor to the rest of his squad, 'Hey Boys, get your gear together. We're finally getting a bit of action with the rebels at the west sub-gate!' As funny as it was to think, this plan would not have stood a chance with Krimson Regulars but with the various psychoses that were instigated into most Elite the last thing they wanted to do was avoid an opportunity for a fight.

Miranda stood back as with the sound of old mechanics and grinding gears the door was unlocked and swung open. In the lee of the door Samantha screwed her eyes shut as the Elite raced from the cellblock control room, trying to make herself as small as possible behind the satchel. As the Elite disappeared up the stairwell Miranda pulled her swiftly to her feet and through the closing door, dragging the satchel with her. The cell block was huge, dozens of tiers of cells stretching up from the ground floor, their doors just as solid as the one through which they had gained entry. Samantha stared around her, forcing her gaze to avoid the horrible table in the centre of the control room, the various instruments and machinery that surrounded it stained a dirty red with the blood of years of torture.

'Which one is he in Miranda?'

'Cell Twelve Samantha, quickly, it's over here.' Talking in whispers the two hurried across the floor, heading for the numbered door that held the man they had put their faith in. Hurrying up to the door Samantha threw the satchel down, pulling frantically at the zip. It was too late that she heard the warning called out from the cell.

'Watch out! Behind you!' The two span to find an Elite standing not two paces behind them, his fire-lance cocked and levelled at the pair.

'You two should have known that the Elite never leave someone like him unguarded. His Majesty is going to be very interested in why you thought he should be freed early.'

With her back pressed against the wall beside the cell Miranda pulled Samantha close, her younger sister clinging frantically to her leg as she whimpered in terror. But something else caught Miranda's attention as the Elite pawed at his belt without taking his eyes or lance from the pair, looking for the control that would switch his helmet radio's frequencies and allow him to call in their transgression. A voice, low and steady by her ear spoke in a whisper.

'Listen to me, cover Samantha's eyes.'

Her eyes darted towards the cell, as she whispered back under her breath, 'What?'

'Cover her eyes! I don't want her to see what's about to happen.' The voice was an order and Miranda, with no course of action left open to her, obeyed, sliding a hand over her sister's eyes as she turned her head away from the man who would doubtless be their executioner. But no sooner had Samantha's head been turned into the fabric of Miranda's dress than a knife seemed to sprout from the Elite's throat. For a moment he was still, shock running through him before his hand rose slowly, grasping faintly at the blade lodged in the gap between his breastplate and helmet. A horrible, wet, choking sound coming from beneath that mask as he stumbled a few steps before finally collapsing to the ground. Jak smirked inside his cell, a knife they didn't know you had. You'd be amazed what you could do with a knife they didn't know you had.

Outside, Miranda stared in shock for a moment longer at the stricken Elite before she span and wrenched open the satchel, digging out the key with shaking hands before sliding it in and turning it, the sound of gears and moving metal sounding as the door opened. From the darkness inside Jak stepped out into the light his eyes sweeping the cell block in an instant before coming to rest on the two. Still clinging to Miranda's skirts Samantha stared up at him, her eyes wide with amazement. He smiled as he knelt in front of her, stretching out a hand to ruffle her blond curls.

'Hello Samantha, I remember you. You've just done a very, very brave thing, I'm very proud of you.' His smile was friendly, his voice soft, unmatched to the harsh surroundings or the victim lying not two paces away.

But they called Samantha's attention away from these things and she beamed at him as he stood to look Miranda in the eye, her height meaning that she was his equal. 'Miranda, right?'

She nodded, stroking Samantha's hair slowly, relief flooding her system, it had actually worked. They had actually done it. 'Yes, I'm her sister, I managed to get you your weapons from the lock-up too.'

Jak stooped and pulled his gun belt out of the satchel, his morph-gun still slung in place, noting with pleasure that Miranda had restocked it with a full compliment of ammunition and grenades. 'Well then I've got to thank you as well. But freeing me does no good, if I do anything against Michaels…' His eyes lowered, one of his hands clenching into a fist, 'well he's got a hostage. I can't let anything happen to her.'

Samantha smiled again, tugging on his shirt, 'It's okay King Jak, I found out about her when me and Miranda were trying to get the key to free you. We know where she is!'

Jak's eyes darted to her before they rose again to Miranda, 'You know where Keira is?'

Miranda nodded, 'Yes, she's being held not far from the throne room in a special set of cells. Usually they're used to discipline us servants but they've got about five guards in there watching her.'

'Five? Why did he put so many on her?' Jak knew he could take five... but it would be hard.

Miriam smiled as she recalled watching the events unfold, 'Yeah, on the way in she sent three to the hospital, two with broken jaws and a third one who'll be walking funny for a week. Michaels didn't want her getting hurt in an escape attempt so he had to set five men to make sure she could be easily restrained.'

Jak's eyes shone with new hope even as a smirk crossed his face at the thought of Keira's temper. 'Can you take me there?'

Miranda shook her head, 'It won't do any good. There may only be five guards watching her but to get to the cells from here you have to go past the barracks. There's dozens more Elite in there. They'd spot you in a moment and then you'd both be dead.'

Jak's jaw tightened, there had to be a way. Think Jak think! If Keira was here she'd find a way! She'd always found a way, right back to when she had discovered how to activate the…

His eyes rose to find the structure at the far end of the cellblock, 'The warp gate!'

Miranda turned to the inactive ring, 'That won't do you any good, the only other exit in the palace is right in the middle of the Barracks, you'd be walking into a death trap.

Jak smirked, 'I know, but it'll be easy to switch the settings to another destination.'

Miranda gave him a perplexed look, 'What good will that do? If you escape he'll probably kill her anyway.'

Jak smashed open the panel on the back of the portal with a well-aimed jab from his rifle butt. 'Who said anything about escape? That security detail will join in the action at the West Gate and I timed the security checks, the next one's not for half an hour so until then we've got a free hand. How many Krimson Regulars do you think will be able to get through this portal in the next half-hour?'

She stared at him for a moment before a slow smile spread across her face as he continued. 'When they get here I'll lead an attack on the barracks. They won't be expecting it and we should be able to take over the barracks without giving them a chance to alert the control room, especially if there's a serious assault from the outside at the same time. Any calls for back up will be lost in the com chatter.' He grinned as he set to work splicing the wires in the panel. This would work. He'd be able to rescue Keira. His expression darkened, and once she was safe, oh how Michaels was going to pay, oh how he was going to pay for what he'd done.

"Resistance Slums Base"

In the Resistance base Ashelin's room was large but dimly lit, most of the light generated by the holo-screen in the centre of the room. The tabletop showed 3D schematics in an eerie, blue glow, notes and data scrolling across the intangible walls, telling the viewer their composition, and the defences imbedded within them. In front of them Ashelin sat in a chair, the remote for the viewer held loosely in her right hand as she rotated and zoomed in on the images again and again.

Ashelin sighed as she sat back in her chair, rubbing her eyes, as she sighed, staring at the palace schematics was not working. She had been at this for hours, going over every inch of the plans, using every memory of her time within its walls to try to find some weak spot, some way that she could get a force within its walls. But the only way that the palace had ever fallen was through treachery from within. Even Jak, at the height of his power had only managed brief forays before the defences drove him out. She knew the palace defences like the back of his hand. There were no weak spots, Erol had been an expert at what he did and had made sure that the palace was as impenetrable as possible. With a million they could do it easily, but how many thousands of men and women would they loose if they simply rushed in. Inside it was a labyrinth designed to funnel attackers into hundreds of cunningly crafted death-traps and kill-zones, each of which, when defended by Elite, could claim dozens of lives before they were over-run.

The time she had spent working showed, her normally pristine, sleek and deadly appearance deteriorating through lack of care, her clothes wrinkled and tarnished through days of constant wear, and though she hid it well her face too showed the signs. Sunken cheeks and dark eyes marring her normally sharp features, lack of sleep evident to those who knew her. Even her poise had faded, her position in the chair lethargic, tired. But still the spark of fervour showed in her eyes as her fingers danced over the keys and changed the view to the next floor where she once again resumed scanning it for any sign of weakness or fault, anything that would not mean horrific losses in an assault. As she fruitlessly scanned through them once more her communicator went off, the small device at her belt emitting a the rapid beep of an emergency call. As she snatched it up the display showed her an unfamiliar set of numbers, whoever was calling her had better have a damn good reason. Flicking the on switch she answered in bad-temper, her raw nerves showing in her voice.

'Ashelin here.' Her eyes widened as the signal was picked up and her screen showed her the caller, it was Jak, looking like he had during the Praxis Wars, his clothes torn and dirty, his face showing signs of fighting. But before she could ask him a thing he was talking, his voice low and urgent but bearing an undercurrent of excitement that lit the same in her. He had something.

'Ashelin, listen close, I don't have time to explain what's happened but I'm in the palace and I'm loose. I'm down in the cells and I've got a warp gate under my control, if Torn keeps the firefight going on the western side we've got maybe half an hour until the Elite realise what's happened.' He paused for a moment, glancing around the cell-block.

'How many assault troops can you get through the power-station warp gate in half an hour?'

Ashelin smiled, a genuine expression as she felt the tension drain from her body for the first time since the battle at the palace. It showed in her voice as she replied, 'As many as can fit through.'

'Start sending them. Get a hold of Daxter, have him send his wastelanders through first. I'll be leading them, I've got… something I need to take care of.'

She knew what, or rather who he meant and thought of Keira brought her pause for thought. 'How do I know that Michael's isn't forcing you to do this? How can I know that this is not a trap?'

Jak's eyes smouldered for a moment, not quite the fury of Dark Jak but as close as a human could come, 'Because once the Wastelanders are here I'm going to rescue Keira, and then I'm going to find Michaels and kill him.' He said it as though it were fact, Ashelin knew Jak well, he had never been the best actor and not even the best actor could fake that tone, and those eyes, this was for real, this was the chance she had prayed for.

She forced herself to remain calm as she nodded confrimation, 'They're on their way Jak, I'll see you in the throne room.' Before he could reply she had switched frequencies, a little of the energy and disbelief that ran through her showing in her haste, Daxter's face appearing as he climbed into view on the counter top at the Naughty Ottsel.

'Hey Babe, what's cookin'? You found my man Jak or something?' She could hear the hope in his words and smiled as she replied, her tone eager and sure.

'Actually, yes I have. He's in the palace and he gave me a message for you.' Daxter's jaw dropped open as she continued. 'He's opened up the warp gate in the cells and connected it to the power station. He wants you and your wastelanders to join him. Once you've secured the cell-block Regulars will start to join you. It ends today Daxter, Michaels is going down.' She said the words as much to hear them as to explain the importance of what Jak had given them. Her whole life all she had known was a city at war, soon, very soon if God would let her, she would bring it peace. For a moment she understood how Jak must have felt all those times war called him from Keira's arms and why he fought so desperately to return to them. They were so close. She could almost taste it.

"Haven City- The front line outside the palace"

Beneath the palace the city all around had been torn apart by war. Once the palace had overlooked the pinnacle of Haven City's wealth and architecture, even the section of the slums that it overlooked kept in better repair than the rest of that squalid sector. Now however, even the shining facades and intricate stone-work of the business districts and high-streets that had neighboured it had become more akin to dead town than the thriving hub of Haven City that they had once represented. Bombardment from the palace had levelled entire neighbourhoods, fires still smoking among the rubble, gutted buildings and collapsed roofs staring emptily up at the foreboding mass.

But the palace itself no longer held the same pristine display of power that it usually presented to the world. For it too showed the scars of war, entire sections of it's armoured walls simply gone, rubble and twisted steel raining minute by minute onto the streets below as the bombardment from the Krimson Regulars reduced its outer defences to nothing.

From a mostly-intact building in the Bazaar Torn watched the process, nodding a signal that sent another wave of shoulder held rockets into the western sub-gate. Fire blossomed and the shock tore new holes in the metal, the sound washing over him in a powerful wave even these two blocks away from the impact. As the dust settled a cheer from the front-line told him that he had timed the strike right and caught an elite patrol out of cover. For a full day now it had been a sniping game, his men on the streets, with the benefits of the Krimson Guard armouries throughout the city had all but reduced the outside of the palace to rubble. Artillery still pounded it day and night, blasting holes in its meter thick walls and preventing any sort of fire from being returned.

But unless they could find a way into the core of the palace where the layout was simple and easily fought the artillery was just pretty lights. When Michaels repaired the city's automated defence grid… that would be it, it would be over, with that much firepower at his command he could wipe their rebellion out in hours. Slowly his strikes and numbers were wearing down the elite, keeping their patrols from breaking free of the palace and notching up small victories in skirmishes and swift hit and run attacks into the palace itself.

His vantage point in the bazaar some two blocks away from the palace allowed him to see the latest barrage slam home, flame and noise blossoming in the air as rubble and dust rained down onto the street below and another strong-point was reduced to nothingness. All around him and all around the palace almost twenty thousand men and women waited for the order to attack, throughout the city eighty thousand more were ready to join them at a moment's notice. But he could not give that order, he would not sacrifice that many lives, Ashelin would never forgive him, more, he would never forgive himself if he allowed what should have been an easy victory to degenerate into a blood bath.

He had already lost almost two hundred men in attacks, any attempt to take it from the air was similarly futile. The wreckage of a dozen Krimson Guard carriers and many more hellcat speeders littered the rooftops and roads all around the palace where they had crashed. As he turned away from the looming presence of that final stronghold a call went up as a messenger burst onto the flat-rooftop, the command centre in the building below housing the equipment needed for a forward command post.

'Commander Torn, a message from Governor Ashelin! She's made contact with King Marr inside the palace, he's opened up a warp gate!'

For a moment Torn stared at him in incomprehension, his mind spinning around the words before realisation hit him, he snatched the message from the guard's hands , his eyes scanning it for an instant before his voice rose in a bellow.

'Captain Fellianus!' His shout brought an officer to his side in an instant, his armour stained with dust and eco-burns showing that he had not been shy when it came to the fighting to retake the city.

'Sir?' He was a veteran who had abandoned the Krimson Guard alongside Torn long ago, they had known each other for years. When Torn had assumed command, he had been the first to be reinstated into the new guard.

'We've got a way into the palace but we need to draw their forces away from the insertion point so we can establish a foothold. Gather five hundred of our best men, spearhead an assault along the entire western side, we've already been pushing here so they've massed slightly but without any entrenchment you should be able to punch through to the interior. I'll allocate you two thousand malita and enough air-transport to get a fight going on a few different levels. Get into a heavy fire-fight, hold them there for half an hour and your jobs done, the rest of the palace will be all but ours by then.'

The Captain's helmet hid his emotions but renewed vigour seemed to have entered him at the prospect of victory. 'I'll hold them as long as I need to Sir. Where will you be?'

Torn turned toward the stairs as he checked his twin pistols in their holsters by his side, 'I'll be in the palace Captain.' He chambered a round in one of his weapons as he felt the anticipation of battle and victory creep over him. 'You start from the outside, I'll start from the inside. Meet you in the middle.' The captain smirked beneath his mask as he moved off at a jog and Torn's voice rose to set his plan in action. So the king had come through for them after-all, he'd never been one to put his faith in rulers, but if he could pull this off, then long live King Marr.

A.N. Sorry if it seems as though this chapter sort of stands still however it is the start of the closing of the story and builds up to the events of the next chapter which will see hell, or at least Jak unleashed inside the palace. I look forward to seeing you all then. As always, feedback is welcomed so if any of you have a comment about this chapter please don't hesitate to review.

Go With God

The Visionary


	10. Victory

****

AN. Greetings once more readers. I thank you for you support thus far and would like to answer a question that was posed to me. The answer Li Katsuya and anyone else interested is that, yes I will be writing a Jak 3 fanfiction as soon as it comes out in Britain and I have a chance to play it. But until then I will be working on an AU fanfiction of the Jak 2 universe. I shall be posting a teaser of that work alongside the final instalment of Destiny's Choice, I hope you enjoy it as much as you have enjoyed this. Now, on with the story.

The Visionary

Chapter 10- Victory

Torn cut an impressive figure as he strode through the lower levels of the palace core in full battle regalia, his tattooed features sweeping all before him as the heavy, polished red plates of armour slid smoothly over each other with his movements. In one hand he held one of his pistols, his other ready with a grenade as behind him Krimson Regulars marched double-time up the main stairwell four abreast, their fire-lances levelled and ready as the sounds of hundreds of footsteps echoed and shook the walls. Pausing as an opening came into sight Torn held up three fingers and immediately the front thirty of those behind him were ready. With a flick of his wrist he sent them into a charge and let himself be swept along in their midst as they rushed up the stairs, the bulk of the five hundred Krimson Regulars that had already come through the portal marching up behind them at a steadier pace.

The first of the Palace's ground levels drew out before him and just as the thirty spilled onto the landing a half dozen Krimson Elite rushed across from an opening heading to reinforce some weakness in the front line. The last thing they had expected was to be accosted within the core sectors of the palace and even as they first noticed that they were not alone Torn's grenade span into the middle of their group. It detonated in a boiling flash of red eco and three of them screamed as it shattered their armour and fragile bodies within. The remainder began to sprint for cover, levelling their fire lances. But it was already too late, the Regulars rushed at them, fire-lances hosing the room with searing heat and energy. Torn snapped off two shots for good measure as the last of them were cut down, their own, panicked, return fire tracing trails of molten metal across the walls, flying wide of the regulars that even now took up covering positions on each of the entrances.

As the rest of the regulars filled the doorway Torn picked out the ten Captains that had joined him, each with fifty men under their command. Singling out two of them he pointed to two of the exits from the large, well-lit hallway.

'You and you take your commands along the main causeways to the outer western sectors on this level, the automated defences are being activated as the troops outside push inwards so destroy anything that you come across before they realise we're here. Take the Elite from behind, don't let yourselves be bogged down into a firefight, keep pushing until you meet Regulars coming the other way, radio me when you've got paths to the street open and we'll start putting as many men as we can through. The others and I will start on the upper levels, secure the hangers. If all goes well we'll have most of the palace by the end of the day.'

What most people did not realise about the palace was that far from being simply a well-defended building it was a city unto itself in many ways. Mile upon mile of hall, acres of rooms, up to five thousand civilian personnel and somewhere in there, still over a thousand Elite to be overcome. It had to be taken like a city, a bit at a time, with reinforcements and tactics. Torn loved tactics, mostly because he was the absolute best when it came to utilising them. Hefting his pistol he turned back to the rest of the strike force as the two captains jogged off, Regulars peeling away from the column to form up behind them. Turning back to the stair well he set off at a jog, heading further up, deeper into the core of the palace.

'The rest of you follow me but watch your fire on the upper levels, the wastelanders are up there taking care of the Elite reinforcements and we don't want any friendly kills!' Pulling free his second pistol he flicked the safety off, 'Now come on, we've got a palace to take.'

The Palace Control room:

Michaels gritted his teeth in a tight smile of triumph as he watched the security monitors. The Regulars had been throwing troops against the western gates for almost half an hour and had yet to establish a true foothold, every attempt to break through his defences thrown back by the unbridled savagery of his Elite and the sheer power of the automated defences. He suppressed a gleeful chuckle as he watched three regulars break into a hall only to be mown down in an instant by the gatling cannons that guarded the door on the opposite side. Next to him the captains conducted the defence with grimmer faces, nodding in satisfaction each time a new rebel thrust was shattered by their counter-manoeuvres,

The central control room of the palace was a massive cylinder, tier upon tier of control banks and computer screens lining the walls for almost twenty stories, a central column holding even more, hundreds of technicians busily seeing to the needs of the palace and the communication of Michael's orders. Along one side the ecotronic glow held an ugly dark wound where the city's automated defence controls had once been, shattered consoles and hissing wires staring dully out onto the hive of activity. Michaels had set dozens of technicians to repairing it but in the melee they were needed elsewhere and harnesses and welding torches lay scattered along the walkways alongside abandoned replacement parts and various other instruments.

The central column ended in a platform half-way up the room and it was from here that Michaels watched the proceedings along with the five Generals of the Elite. In front of him a massive array of screens switched feeds every few seconds as he viewed another part of the battle. As fighting broke out on a new level the monitor switched to show carriers streaming into one of the palaces halls through a gaping wound in its outer wall, the weapons on their underbellies scouring the walls and doors with fire. As they sank to the ground, their rear doors opening, regulars leapt from them only to find themselves immediately forced into cover as Elite swarmed into the entranceways and another firefight began.

'Generals, report, how long can we expect this to go on for?'

The officers turned to him, one electing himself spokesperson as he tore a print-out from a nearby machine, running his eyes over is briefly. 'We've got them pinned down in most areas and they can't advance any further into the palace. But we lack the manpower to displace them from the heaviest assaulted areas and so they may be able to establish footholds and bring heavier equipment in to counter-act the bulkheads that we've been using to split their forces.'

Another of them spoke up as he listened to a transmission through his ear-piece. 'There's almost three hundred Elite ready for deployment in the barracks sir. They were on their rest shift but a double shot of adrenaline will have them ravenous for combat for the next two hours. We put them into the fight and we'll break the Rebel attack, they'll be forced to retreat for now.'

Michaels was about to nod his confirmation when the entire room shook as though the epicentre of an earthquake, a noise like thunder nearly deafening him as he felt the vibrations of some almighty concussion numb his legs. Dust rained down from the roof as he staggered against a rail, staring around frantically as everywhere throughout the room lights suddenly shone red, sirens blaring as the palace's systems screamed in protest to whatever assault had just rocked them.

Trying to make himself heard over the screaming sirens and rising undercurrent of panicked shouts Michaels scrambled to his feet, seizing one of his Generals by the collar. 'What the hell was that? Did they set off an E-bomb or something?'

Gesticulating wildly at one of the control panels the General's voice held a note of fear, 'I don't know Sir, the internal sensors are going berserk, there's been some sort of detonation in the core area.'

'What? Show me!'

The General's hands danced over the keyboard as his eyes darted along the rows of data flashing on screen before him, 'I'm trying to find a camera in the area that still works sir… Here! I'm patching it through to the main screen.'

The massive bank of monitors flickered with interference for a brief moment before the image cleared a little, a hazy picture of the elite barracks appearing, a camera on the cavernous, high-arched main hall of the barracks wavering on the brink of failure. All along the length of the hall other doors led to the various barracks and the rows of beds and storage lockers that made up the Elite's few personal possessions. Except that the main hall was empty of the training equipment and mess facilities that should have inhabited it, the whole thing was just… gone. On one side of the image Michaels could see that an entire wall had collapsed, a land-slide of rubble covering half the length of the hall debris scattered everywhere upon metal that had been blackened by fire, scoured clean.

Even as he watched, the aftermath sent another wall crumbling, the collapse slowly travelling upward until another section of the fifty-foot walls caved in, scattering dust and stone across the floor. As the dust settled the skeleton of rooms beyond showed that the mere shock of the blast had all but demolished them as well. For all intents and purposes, the barracks was gone and from the looks of it so was almost everything else nearby. Faintly, from beyond the collapsed wall sunlight began to filter into the room. Whatever the blast was it had blown clear through to the outer wall and punched a hole in the palaces outer armour. Off to another side the roof began to cave in and then suddenly the camera went dead as with a final groan the roof gave up and collapsed.

Michaels felt another shockwave rock the control room and knew with a sinking feeling that the barracks had just caved in, which meant that the entire south-western upper sector was now simply a pile of rubble resting on the main support beams that shored up the barracks floor. In normal terms something like fifty large houses had just collapsed.

'What the hell happened?' He screamed as he rounded on his captains, his eyes smouldering with fury.

For a reply he received a panicked call as one of the generals suddenly picked out a message from the blizzard of information scrolling through his earpiece. Whirling to Michaels his face was white as he spoke, 'Sir, we've got a problem in the lower core sectors…'

The South-eastern upper sector:

Jak coughed as the plume of dust washed over his group, pressing his nose and mouth into his sleeve to keep the dust from them. For a moment the Wastelanders crouched, letting the shockwaves of the collapse pass them over, the dust carried by the current stinging their eyes. As the air began to still and the dust settled Jak stood, spitting grit as he pushed his goggles up once more, dusting down his clothes as on the shoulder Daxter coughed exaggeratedly.

'Geez Sig, what the hell was in that package?'

Beside him the Wastelander brandished his peacemaker, 'Old family recipe Jak, my daddy taught it to me, he used to use it for levelling off new areas of farmland. I found out it works just as well to level buildings and started leavin' 'em as house warming presents whenever I overstayed my welcome on a job.'

Jak craned his neck around the corner and stared back down the passage to where the roof had caved in. In the intermittent space a half-dozen elite lay sprawled. These were the few that had chased them after Sig had thrown his father's recipe into the biggest stash of explosives he could see in the hall. They had been cut down by Jak and the other wastelanders as they raced away from the barracks and those that had chosen to pursue more cautiously were now entombed in the rubble. At least Miranda had made sure that all of the servants were down in the cells where the regulars could protect them.

He turned with a grin, 'Right, that ought to keep 'em occupied for a little while. Now come on, Keira's this way.' On his shoulder Daxter glanced uneasily at back at the rubble.

'Yeah, okay, no more blowing things up though. I'm gonna be combing bits of palace out of my fur for weeks as it is.'

As the group took off at a trot Jak grinned up at him, 'No promises Dax.' The Wastelanders were an odd crew of all ages, experienced, hardened veterans running alongside new bloods whose natural talent and ferocity made up for their lack of seasoning. They wore an odd mish-mash of armour, some with clean-smooth, custom built plates that interlocked perfectly across their frames while others sported crude, scavenged affairs, leather, metal and even ceramic plate strapped together across their clothing. Each of them was armed according to his own taste, some with long-barrelled, elegant sniper rifles while others, those more of Sig's school of thought sported heavier affairs. They moved with silent efficiency, a mercenary's caution in their movements as the jogged from corner to corner, checking side-passages and chambers swiftly as they ran.

The cells that Miranda had described were only a few moments away from the barracks, originally they had seen use detaining those among the guard who over stepped their authority or abused it. Under Praxis reign the list of behaviour considered excessive was almost non-existent and so they had begun to be used for the servants whenever they grew unhappy with their lot. As they came up to corridor that led to it Jak held up his fist bringing their column to a halt, inching one eye around the corner to take in what opposed them at the entrance. Daxter saw the change that came over him as he spotted the first of the five guards and the hunter in him took over. His eyes narrowed and his hands felt the contours of his rifle as his tongue darted across his lips. Then without a sound he broke into a full sprint.

Servant's Cell Block:

Jethias, the Sergeant who had been left in charge of Keira had just risen to check on the men outside, his request for information from control met with a string of expletives and rebuttals from a desperate communications technician. His men had taken over the small guard-room, chairs stolen from the more lavishly decorated rooms nearby surrounding a small card-table laden with the various wagers they had taken to making in order to pass the time. At both ends of the room heavy, metal doors separated the guard room from the rest of the palace in front and the cells behind.

The cell-block itself was small compared to the massive units down in the foundations, it's walls cleaner and the cells well-lit, the low ceiling meaning that only one tier of metal doors ran along its sides. Whatever had just happened however had just shaken half of them free, dust covering the floor as the lights flickered. The door to the rest of the palace also swung ponderously loose on its hinges, the hydraulic pressure drained from its locks by the vibrations that had just shaken the entire Palace.

Mindful of the fluid still leaking from the cylinders inside he almost missed the muffled thump from outside followed closely by the sound of metal striking the wall. The unmistakable sound of a body sprawling on the floor reached his ears as a shadow darted across the door and stifled the warning cry of the second guard before it could even begin. As a crack told him that the second guard's neck had just been snapped he span and snatched up his fire-lance, sighting along the barrel as all around him his men scrambled to their feet, the monotony of their station suddenly relieved by the mysterious invader.

As he turned to bark an order a figure appeared for an instant in the door, three shots snapped off in quick succession, one hissing past his face. The heat of it scorched his cheek as he dove for cover his men stopped in their tracks as rushing the door suddenly became the least attractive of their options. From outside there came the sound of running feet, his ears telling him that the group congregating outside outnumbered his small command by a good amount. Even as he struggled to think of what to do his ear-piece crackled into life demanding he lead his men to the lower levels, the sounds of a vicious fire-fight providing a back-ground to the screamed orders. Before he could even begin to comprehend the transmission a voice rang out from beyond the door.

'Let the girl go and I won't kill you all.' He looked up and the figure that had sent him scrambling for cover appeared in the doorway, a morph-gun held easily in his hands as burning blue eyes speared him.

Shadows moved behind him and Jethias caught the shapes of more weapons but remained defiant. These men wore no uniforms and even four Elite could hold a room like this against a hundred amateurs, at least until reinforcements were ready. His confidence showed as he brought his fire-lance up, 'Just who the hell do you think you are to think you can take on the Elite?'

The blue eyes glinted and something in them called to a memory in his mind, a face that he had seen displayed upon view-screens and posters throughout the city. As it was his features were smoke grimed, blood running from a burn above his left temple where a shot had come too close, but he recognised those eyes. Even before his reply Jethias knew that these were no amateurs. 'I'm Jak.'

The change that came over the men was an almost instantaneous, whole body affair as their confidence evaporated and every cell in their bodies collectively shrank back and said in a very small voice,

'Oh dear.'

Jak smirked and time seemed to be left behind as his rifle snapped up in an instant and he squeezed the trigger. Jethias' head jerked back as most of it was incinerated by the bolt of yellow eco and Jak leapt forward as time caught up and the elite unfroze. Diving with a sinuous grace he felt the heat of the two fire-lance beams that tore past him. The smell of o-zone filled his nostrils as the lethal mix of red and yellow eco scorched the air itself but he ignored the familiar stench as he hit the ground in a roll. The two that had neglected the need for cover paid for it with their lives and even as their shots went wide two wastelanders in the door found their mark and the two went down as the last kicked over the table and threw himself down behind it. His speed meant that a third wastelander that let fly with twin pistols did nothing but scar the tabletop. However, as he raised his fire-lance with a snarl it was to find that as swift as he had been, Jak had been swifter and now a tiny red dot glimmered steadily on his left temple.

The shot echoed for a moment in the bare room and then all was quite once more. The only sound was the slow sizzle of molten metal and rock as it cooled, the shots that had gone wild scoring trails of heat and light through the walls of the room. A half-dozen wastelanders stood with Jak as they surveyed the battle-field, their weapons smoking silently as in the doorway the others turned back to watching the hall.

Jak glanced down as the radio on the body at his feet crackled into life, a familiar voice speaking in frantic tones. 'Sergeant, get the prisoner ready! Marr has escaped from his cell! He'll be coming for her! You'll have to use her as a human shield to get him under control! The regulars have broken into the compound, he's the only one who can stop them, bring him up to the throne room and we'll use the girl to force him into telling them to cease the attack, it'll dissolve the malita.'

Jak bent down and plucked the radio up, speaking into it slowly, 'Hello Michaels, the Sergeant can't talk right now, he's dead. I'm a bit busy myself but don't you worry, in a little while I'll be coming to talk to you in person.'

The other side of the line went silent and Jak smirked before he tossed it aside, hefting his rifle as he let the red glimmer of the laser sight come to rest on the lock. Gritting his teeth he let fly with three shots, the bolts of yellow eco slamming home with a hiss as the metal began to glow red hot, great globules of molten steel dripping from the lock before a fourth shot punched a hole straight through. His boot did the rest and the glowing lock disintegrated as he booted it open, levelling his rifle instantly as the hall of cells came into view. From his shoulder Daxter narrowed his eyes.

'Looks clear, let's go find her good buddy.'

Jak was at a sprint almost before he had finished speaking, his eyes flashing left and right as he passed each pair of cells, his boots ringing against the metal gratings of the floor as he roared her name. So hurried was he that he almost missed it, skidding to a halt at the sound of a familiar voice coming from within one of the cells that lay still intact.

'Jak? Jak is that you?'

He did not let the relief come yet, he would feel nothing but need until he could see her again, touch her, feel her. Levelling his rifle once more he called to her, 'Stand back from the door.' Daxter leapt from his shoulder as he cocked his rifle, knowing that what was about to happen was not for him to witness. Two shots was all it took to melt the lock and once again the soles of Jak's boots hissed as the molten metal disintegrated beneath them. Even as it swung open leaving a trail of sparks in its wake his rifle clattered to the floor and he burst into the cell his eyes immediately finding her as she launched herself to meet him. And then she was in his arms and he almost sobbed with relief. She was okay, her eyes just as bright and lively as ever, her face un-bruised and un-scarred by her ordeal, only small rents in her overalls showing that she had suffered at all.

He swung her around as they met, the sheer energy granted him by her safety meaning that her small frame weighed nothing in his arms as they wrapped around her and pulled her close. Her own were flung about his neck as her cheeks fell against his, her soft, emerald hair brushing across his face, her lilac perfume filling his nostrils as for a moment his universe shrank to her. She stayed in his arms as her momentum landed her on her feet once more, letting him hold her close once more. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, one hand rising to tangle in her hair before one of her small fists suddenly beat against his chest, emotion glittering in her gaze as she stared up at him, a smile flitting across her lips though her tone held anger.

'What took you so long! You said in the note you'd be back in a day!' He smiled down at her, pressing a small kiss to her cheek and she smiled back, tears of relief shining in her eyes. A moment more of their shared gaze and she pulled him down to claim a long, passionate kiss from him before she embraced him once more. He spoke in a low tone as one of his hands stroked her hair, as much for his own comfort as for hers.

'Keira, no matter what. I will always come back to you. Always.'

Her head rose until their eyes met once more, 'You damn well better Jak Marr.' They shared a smile before he leaned down and claimed her lips once more, pressing his own almost feverishly against hers, the fact that they were reunited still seeming vaguely distant as though he could not quite believe it yet. As their kiss finished she smiled up into his face, one hand rising to trace his features, deft fingers running across his lips before she leant her head down on his chest again. He smiled and pressed another kiss into her crown of emerald hair, surrounding her with his embrace. Never again would he let harm touch her for his sake.

In the distance, echoing up from the lower levels explosions and the rising chatter of gunfire reminded him that Michaels was still out there and as long as he lived he would pose a threat to him and to her. Reluctantly he lifted her chin from his chest, bringing her eyes up to meet his. 'Keira it's not over yet.' Her arms tightened around him, as though she knew what he would say next. 'I've got to go and find Michaels, I have to make sure he can never do anything like this ever again.'

She nodded, acquiescing as she stepped back from him a little, laying one of her hands on his arm, 'Be careful Jak.'

Cupping her cheek for a moment his gaze found Daxter in the doorway, Sig towering over the ottsel. 'Sig, get her out of the palace. Is there any fighting around the stadium?'

The mercenary shook his head, 'Nope, the city's been mostly quite for a couple days now.'

'Okay, take her back to her house and keep her safe until all this is over.'

Narrowing his eyes Sig took a step forward, 'You're going after Michaels? How you plan on doing that, from what I can hear on the com he's pulled back almost two hundred elite to the control room sector, the place is locked down tighter than the metalhead nest ever was.'

Jak smirked as Sig passed him his rifle, cocking it smoothly as Daxter mounted his shoulder. 'You remember who broke into the metalhead nest don't you Sig?'

Shrugging as a smile crossed his face he placed an arm around Keira's narrow shoulders. 'Okay, good luck my man. And don't worry, I'll take good care of her while you're gone.'

Breaking away from Sig for a moment Keira pressed a quick kiss to Jak's cheek. 'For luck.' She said with a smile.

A final nod and smile to her and he was gone from the cell, breaking away from the wastelanders with Daxter on his shoulder, once more becoming the hunter as the softness that had appeared on his face in Keira's presence vanished. As he leapt up and tore away an air-duct cover he disappeared into the hidden ways of the palace, travelling swiftly toward his target. On his shoulder Daxter nervously wrung his paws.

'Uh Jak, while I appreciate that you're good and able to take care of many, many Elite he did say that there were two hundred there. Not even you could handle that many!'

Even as he spoke Jak's boot tore another duct cover free and he dropped down into a hall and straight in front of three Elite rushing toward the fighting. For a moment they froze, surprise giving him a split second of freedom. It was all he needed, darting forward his hand clamped over the helmet of the one in the Elite, plucking him from his feet and propelling him effortlessly into the one behind. As the two went down in a tangle of limbs Jak brought his rifle around and blasted three shots into the third, ending him instantly. A fire-lance crackling with blue eco sought his ribs as the two on the floor recovered but his boot met it halfway his leg twisting strangely to guide it away from him and instead straight into the second Elite as he rose once more. Energy seared through him as Jak lowered his rifle and fired a single shot at the last and as he went limp his fire-lance clattered to the ground and the second followed him to the floor once more, twitches running through him as the energy fried his neural pathways.

Daxter's mouth closed around the final syllable of his sentence and he stared quietly at the three for a moment. Looking at how easily Jak had simply overpowered the three he recognised the strength in him and the hardness in his eyes. He looked thoughtful for a moment before Jak took off at a run once more. 'Ah, so this means…'

Jak smirked, holstering his rifle as he rolled his shoulders, something seeming to build within him as he spoke and the corridor to the control room hove into view. 'Yeah, the white eco's worn off, Dark Jak's back.'

As he spoke Daxter felt a shiver travel up his spine and recognised the sensation, recognised the shift in Jak's stride, the subtle changes in his body that spoke of the coming transformation. His boots began to pound the hallway faster and faster as he accelerated, his lips curling back into a snarl as his rifle was cast aside. His eyes seemed to roll back into his head but rather than showing white suddenly instead becoming a malevolent black that sucked the light from his face. The air around them coalesced before some invisible force, Daxter screwing his eyes shut against the space warping effect that it had.

The taste of power became crisp and cold in the air as time froze for a moment and then he heard and felt the inhuman roar from his companion as it rumbled through him. It was the signal for him to leave or be caught in the coming hurricane. Leaping from the shoulder he rolled as he hit the ground, coming up just in time to watch as Jak leapt into the hall and his continuing roar echoed off the metal walls, filling the corridors with the sound of his coming. Black lightning trailed behind him as his skin became a sickly, pale hide his fingernails lengthening and darkening to deadly claws as his teeth suddenly showed stark white against a black maw. It was Jak that leapt but it was Dark Jak that landed in the corridor and rounded to face the Elite.

The hall was typical of all those in the palace, the walls only recently stripped bare of Praxis insignia and as yet undecorated but for the occasional scar of an old battle. Wide and tall it easily bore room enough for six or seven men to stand abreast, the arched ceiling holding ancient chandeliers that pulsed with the flow of eco through them, giving light to the barricades that had been erected between him and his target. They had been built into the walls and floor, massive, thick panels of metal swinging up and out to form supposedly impenetrable bulkheads, firing slots crowded with Elite, their golden armour easily visible as they levelled their firing lances at him. None fired as he stood almost fifty paces from the first barrier, his power tracing lightning across the walls and floor, wherever it passed glowing a dull red for a moment as his rage fuelled the transformation.

Daxter almost felt sorry for the Elite, none of them would live, he knew that later, in private Jak too would grieve for all the death that he was about to deal but at this moment Jak was gone. He had surrendered himself to the beast inside and would not return until the beast had tasted blood, Michael's blood. A dark tongue traced his fangs for a moment as inhumanely powerful muscles flexed, his claws curling and uncurling slowly as though in anticipation. Then suddenly Dark Jak was moving.

Dark lighting unfurled behind him in a searing cape that streamed from his white skin as in a moment he crossed the distance to the first barrier, moving too fast even for the Elite to react. His fist punctured the bulkhead as though it were paper the metal screaming with a high pitched whine as it was torn, his claws sinking into the throat of the Elite unfortunate enough to be the closest. Black lightning blossomed from the arm that had struck the blow and those nearest screamed as a hole was instantly melted through the barricade, molten metal running like water along the floor, anyone caught by it dying a painful death as they collapsed into it's fiery embrace.

The rest were like lambs to the slaughter as Dark Jak burst through the hole, running through the liquid steel as though it were a part of his power. The glowing, hissing fluid gathered around him, carried on the back of his lightning and striking down the elite as he flung out his arms and encompassed them in a storm of power. Screams rang through the halls as it burrowed through their armour, what dropped to the floor simply husks, devoid of any spark of life. They fell back in disarray, some pounding on the doors of the control room in a desperate bid to get as far away from their attacker as possible.

The automated defences on the ceiling sought him out, twin gatling cannons dropping from hidden panels to rake him with fire, glittering beams of eco sending up such a storm of debris and steam as they hissed into the pools of molten metal. As Dark Jak hurled up his arms and a crackling shield of dark eco sprang up to protect him the Elite abandoned the floor to flood into firing balconies and pillboxes as they sprang out of the walls. Rallying against him they broke the stand off with the gatling guns, grenades spiralling toward him as fire-lances began to blaze against his shield. The grenades detonated and bathed him in fire, spattering the walls with gobbets of rapidly cooling metal. As the fire receded it seemed for a moment as though the Elite had won, Dark Jak's form battered against the barricade, his head lolling limply to one side. One Elite stepped tentatively forward, descending from a ledge to take the first step onto the skin of once again solid metal as behind him others followed his example.

Dark Jak remained still, apparently lifeless until the Elite was only a few paces from him. As he brought his fire-lance down to prod the recumbent form the head snapped up, the eyes suddenly glowing with power once more as his mouth opened in a chaotic laugh. The Elite recoiled, fumbling to bring his weapon to bear as muscles coiled with power beneath Dark Jak's skin. His laughter rose and dark lightning seared from his hands once more, disappearing into the ground only to erupt beneath the Elite's feet, once more carrying with it both hissing, searing liquid and glowing, white-hot slivers of shrapnel. Those who had approached him were gone in an instant, no trace save ash left in the wake of his power as the lightning coiled back on itself, surrounding him in a whirlwind of power, the sheer heat and intensity of it driving back the Elite from their firing positions.

His roar shook the very walls as he thrust an arm forward and in obedience an arm of the whirlwind descended upon a balcony, sweeping it clean as Elite danced their deaths upon spears of energy. He leapt and his power curled around his arms as a clawed fist snatched at each of the gatling cannons, their shots pattering uselessly off his impenetrable hide. Tearing both from their bearings the ammunition detonated in his hands and covered him in flame once more. But again this was swept up into the currents of his power, great, boiling arms of equal parts white metal and dark lightning scouring the hall clean.

Had all two hundred been there to oppose him then perhaps they would have been enough to bring him down as he dove into hand to hand combat, his claws slicing effortlessly through armour and flesh alike. But Michaels had spread the two hundred out around the sector, unknowing of Jak's knowledge of the palaces hidden ways and only fifty or so stood in his way. As these died beneath his claws the last thing most of them heard was Michael's ranting voice on the com system ordering all Elite to converge on the control room.

The last of the Elite slammed against the control room doors with a sound like a rotten fruit, sliding to the ground and into the slew of blood and cooling steel that covered the floor. Dark Jak's footsteps echoed loudly in the silence that followed as he walked calmly up to them, his chest rising and falling as he panted with the effort of what he had just done and the fury that still burned bright within him. He lay a clawed hand against the huge, ancient double doors, seeming to admire the intricate engraving and patterns that the metal was woven into. Then for a moment his entire frame tensed before his fist slammed into the pattern with the force of a tank shell. The patterning buckled and broke as the force ran through the door. Shattered pieces of engraving raining down to land with a hiss in the still cooling puddles of molten metal. But the doors themselves held firm.

An inhuman hiss blasted from between Dark Jak's feral teeth as he clenched them pulling back his hand to form it into a knife edge. Dark lightning coiled around his frame once more, gathering to form a hissing, living blade in his hands before he spread his claws and thrust them once more at the door. This time, when they met the door they once more found thick, unyielding armour that refused to buckle before their sheer force but now dark lightning disappeared into the metal where his claws did not as it streamed from his body, the dark power seeming to dissipate harmlessly at first. But as he continued to push his claws against the doors and the lightning continued to pour from his body the spot beneath his hand began to glow a dull red and his claws sank in by a fraction of a centimetre. A moment more and the glow brightened and his claws sank deeper, a low, sibilant sound rising as vapour began to gather around him.

From inside panicked shouts reached his sensitive ears and his snarl turned into a smirk, the look enough to send a shiver down the spine of any watcher. Beneath his hand the metal began to glow yellow and his fingers followed his claws into the half-metre thick door, great globules of molten steel dripping down to the floor once more. An ever widening circle of red surrounded his hand, the centre of yellow widening in its wake until white began to follow, his arm sinking in up to his elbow as he roared once more. The vibrations of the power emanating from him sent waves of force through the liquid metal as it pooled at his feet, cascading from his arm as dark lightning continued to stream from his skin.

On the other side the Elite backed away from the door as a spot of red appeared, growing rapidly brighter, red turning to yellow as it expanded, a low hiss beginning to fill the room. The heat in the room began to grow more and more stifling as the first drops of glowing metal began to fall away, a puddle slowly forming that grew steadily outward, a harbinger of what lay upon the other side. The technicians looked at each other with trepidation, many abandoning their posts to flee to the opposite side of the room. More and more joined them as the puddle reached an abandoned welding torch that had been used to make repairs, it detonated as the heat cracked open it's gas tanks, flames engulfing the Elite that had abandoned discretion for foolhardy valour. Their armour saved them from death but the blossom of flame and noise had called the Elite's eyes away from the door, as they turned back it was to find that the circle of glowing metal had disintegrated and Dark Jak stared back at them with a sadistic grin.

Michaels watched as he launched himself through the door, his hunched over stride dragging his claws through the puddle that he had created and meaning that when his claws rose into combat each of them trailed a whip of crackling dark energy and searing gold. Screaming into his com he sent the Elite piling against him, the cocktail of drugs in their system meaning that they ignored the uselessness of such a feat, each sweep of his claws sending those deadly streams scything through them, dozens dying in seconds. Spinning wildly he snatched one of his generals by the collar, his eyes bearing the spark of madness as he snatched the collar of the man's armour.

'Do something you fool! Kill that peasant!' Behind him Dark Jak left the melee, abandoning the cattle to seek his true target. He leapt from the centre of the battle, the unnatural strength in him sending him soaring upward as the crackling energy that surrounded him left his arms to stream behind him, swirling as it altered the forces of nature to suit his needs. He hit the wall and his claws sank into the metal, providing him purchase as he twisted sinuously to leap once more, this time finding purchase against the central control column. It took an instant for him to reach the top of the column, bounding from side to side with impossible agility. With his claws sunk into the wall of the control room he twisted and caught sight of his quarry beneath him, Michael's ranting insanely as he brandished a pistol.

The general made no reply to Michaels as he caught sight o the apparition that watched the scene from above and in the grip of madness Michaels raised the pistol and without a trace of emotion blasted a shot into the man's face. It was the last thing he ever did. On the wall dark lightning coiled around Dark Jak's form, the very air seeming to twist and contort for a moment before he launched himself skyward once more. Sailing almost gracefully through the air he threw his arms out wide and the power that had gathered around him obeyed, lightning was flung out, granting him wings of searing energy as the great streams of glowing shrapnel and hissing liquid soared skyward to join the darkness. As Michaels span the great wings beat the air with a sound like the crack of thunder, carrying Dark Jak above the column, his eyes locked upon his prey.

Time and gravity seemed to cease as in the air he rose one hand and the wings swept upward in obedience, great, devilish shadows cast across everything by the heat and light borne with them. For a moment that stretched into eternity his eyes met Michaels gaze far below, darkness against madness, those great wings hovering above. Then his hand was flung down and the wings descended to with all the unstoppable power of a mountain slide. Michael roared his defiance as they fell upon him, his megalomania meaning that even now he refused to recognise defeat. It mattered not as the cascade of energy smashed into the column head, Dark Jak driving it downward as he threw himself in it's wake, forcing more and more of his power into it.

It detonated with a burst of sound of concussion, a shockwave sweeping aside the generals, the technology, all of it disintegrating as it was simply smashed aside. Michaels, caught in the centre of all of this power had nowhere to go but straight down, his body was smashed into the ground, shattered in an instant as the entire column buckled and bent beneath the tremendous force. Time caught up and debris rained down onto those below, the scoured column plateau echoing with the panicked screams of technicians and Elite alike as the instant loss of their leaders overrode their programmed madness and drove fear into them.

At the peak Dark Jak was crouched upon one knee, his clawed right hand lying flat against the floor, the buckled and twisted metal radiating out all around. His feral teeth were clenched as his breath blasted out in heaving puffs of steam. His body quivered with the effort of what he had just done and slowly a second transformation took hold of him. His muscles, which had knotted and changed into inhuman shapes flowed back into place beneath his skin, slimming him down as his skin lost it's pale, deathly hue. His claws retracted, his deadly hands undergoing the same transformation as his muscles, bones reshaping and aligning into natural formation. The transformation reached his face and the clenched fangs twisted and changed into normality, his dark eyes loosing their endless, light-sucking depths and returning to their usual blue intensity. As the last of the deathly white fled from his locks and left them their usual green streaked blonde he was once again himself, standing slowly as he rolled his shoulders and slowly worked out of his body the alien feelings that remained from his transformation.

Below him silence filled the chamber as the last of the bystanders fled and he strode forward to stand over Michael's body. He stared down at the man that had caused so much pain, that had called back a monster from the grave, that had kidnapped, nearly killed Keira. A tight smile of satisfaction crossed his face, no joy in his eyes except the acknowledgement that an evil was gone from the world. He reserved his joy for when Keira was in his arms once more as he turned away, no wish in him to gloat over the broken body of his enemy.

For a man of his agility descending the column was an easy task, the torn and crumpled metal offering ample holds for his deft limbs. On the floor he picked his way between puddles of cooling metal, walking through the doors that had been opened by those that fled. He arrived at the barricade to find Torn leaning against it, watching as he carefully moved between the swathes of dead elite. The veteran's face showed the evidence of battle, sweat and dust mixing into a grimy mask, his armour showing fresh burns and scars. As Jak approached Torn tossed him his rifle, having reclaimed it from the halls outside. But as Jak moved to pass the veteran he held out an arm to block his path.

'Most of the rest of the palace is ours, all that's left is mopping up a few last areas. The fuzzball said you wanted first dibs on Michaels, did you get him?' Jak nodded silently, a strange peace having settled over him now that the fighting was done. 'What about his generals?'

Again he nodded, 'Them too.' He made as though to continue his stride but Torn's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

'Where are you going? Ashelin needs you to address the people, they need a hero for her to use as a rallying point until she can restore control properly.'

Jak's hand rose and gently pushed his away, a slightly tired note in his reply. 'Then you be a hero. You led the main attack on the palace, you broke the Elite lines, you're the one the troops will say did it. I don't want glory, you can have it if it'll make things easier.' Torn made no move to stop him as he ducked back through the hole in the barricade, the edges solidified into strange, surreal forms. As he holstered his rifle Torn called to him once more.

'Then where are you going?'

Jak sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he allowed himself to take in a deep breath. Slowly a smile spread across his face, 'I'm going home.'

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A.N. The battle is won and Jak stands victorious. He has fought against monster and man and triumphed over both and now seeks his just reward. I tried to make this chapter into a suitable conclusion to the build up that has occurred in the previous chapters and hope that you feel it lived up to your expectations, as always all reviews will be welcomed so please tell me what you thought. The next chapter will be an epilogue of sorts and be the final installment of Destiny's Choice. As promised at the start of the chapter, alongside it I will also post a teaser of my next work "Haven's Hero", I hope to see you all again there.

Go with God

The Visionary


	11. Ever After

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A.N. The final chapter of Destiny's Choice, a closing tale of Jak's search for peace. I thank you all profusely for the support and praise that you have given this story, without you it would have come to nothing so once again, thank you. For those of you with an interest this chapter does contain references to Jak 3 but mainly focuses on the events of Jak 2 and this game. Enjoy.

The Visionary

Chapter Eleven- Ever After

Keira's bed beckoned her the moment that she was back in her apartment, the mere sight of her soft mattress and pillows enough to remind her that she had not slept but for a few fitful naps in almost two days, more than long enough for fatigue to build. She had not Jak's stamina when it came to these matters but was determined that when he returned, and he would return, she would be ready for him. A coffee later she headed for the shower, washing the dust and sweat of over two days from her skin and hair, revelling in the feel of the warm cascade. It was only as she emerged that she remembered most of her things were now split between the palace and the apartment above Daxter's bar.

No matter, she would only entertain one guest and he would not mind how she dressed. She pulled on a warm, heavy bathrobe over a white vest and underwear, the light blue material of the robe soft against her skin as she settled into a plush, comfortable chair by the window. Her eyes scanned the deserted roads slowly as she waited for any sign, another coffee in her hand to stave off sleep. Beside her a radio quietly droned with repeats of Ashelin's announcements, her voice speaking in a calm, measured pace that soon overrode the caffeine coursing through her system.

By the time the constant repeats were broken by Ashelin's voice ringing out from the palace gates sleep had long claimed her and she rested, curled up in her chair as her coffee lay cooling upon the windowsill. She slept straight through the rising sound and then ceasing of an engine tone outside followed by a quick, congratulatory conversation from below as Sig met her visitor. Even his engine was not enough to wake her as the thick glass of her windows muted the sounds of his exit and so it was that when he entered that was how he found her.

A smile flitted across his features as he saw her there, her locks of emerald hair falling loosely over the side of the chair, the sunlight spilling in through thin net curtains to pick out the soft shadows of her face. Despite his heavy boots he was noiseless as he scooped her gently up into his arms and moved toward the bed, exhaustion keeping her from waking as she burrowed unconsciously deeper into his chest, his familiar warmth. Laying her in place upon her bed he took a moment to simply admire her as she slept, delicate hands curled daintily under her chin as he let her sleep on, she had earned her rest, she had earned a lot more to him. It would have been so easy for her to simply walk away when he had been first taken to the palace and a hundred other times, but she had stayed, for him. God how he loved her for that.

As he turned away from the bed he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror that stood against the wall, the sight bringing a grimace to his lips. The fight had stayed with him, his shirt tattered and burnt to little more than rags, his gloves bearing flecks of debris and worse, his boots the same, he knew that he probably stank of battle as well, sweat and burning o-zone mingling in an unpleasant cocktail. Stripping off he moved into her bathroom, tossing everything but his trousers and undergarments into the trash rather than the laundry, they were good for little else. He sighed as he stepped into the shower and the hot water ran gently down his back, a soothing sensation that undid most of the knots in his muscles, working to ease the tension that had built up for so long.

As he the water collected in rivulets over his muscles he remembered that she lay peacefully upon her bed not five paces from where he stood beneath the shower and let a smile cross his face. It seemed as though washing the dirt of the battle from his body also washed away the pressures it had put on him, letting him ease away from the combat that his mind had been in constant readiness for. For the first time since he had left this room he let himself relax, totally, letting his guard drop as he allowed his ears to listen only to the sounds of the water against the enamel. For too long they had strained to hear the engine tones of approaching danger or the whispered words and quite steps of an assassin.

He took his time as he cleansed himself, a luxurious fog of steam rising around him as a layer of condensation built upon every surface accompanied only by his slow breathing, each one almost a sigh. As he stepped from the shower he towelled off briskly, tying his hair back into a rough ponytail rather than bother bullying it into it's swept back locks, a sudden need for comfort rising in him and melting away the drive and energy he had displayed for so long. For decencies sake he pulled on the clothes he had kept before moving from the room, pausing in the door for a moment to watch her as she slept still. His eyes fell upon the chair that he had found her in and with the same noiseless ease with which he had moved her he silently manhandled the chair until it was within reach of the bed, settling into it's leather embrace with a grateful sigh.

He watched her carefully as she slept, the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the robe, the tiny, unconscious movements of her eyes and hands as dreams or some other force guided her in sleep. Later he would take her in his arms and kiss her, and hold her, and make love to her as they celebrated their freedom, his freedom, but for now he felt something he had not felt for so, so long. He felt content. At this moment though, everything was right in his world and he could sleep, knowing that he would not be awoken by the sound of gunfire, or of angry shouts, only by her touch and her voice. With this pleasant prospect ahead of him he let his head roll to the side to rest against the blue dyed leather and was soon as deep in sleep as she, the pair silently sleeping off the ordeal that they had faced together.

Four Years Later

The Senator's War as it had been dubbed was not the last trouble to confront Jak and tear him from her arms but always he returned to her side. The cityscape changed over the years, Ashelin's wise hand at work as the air cleared and the buildings cleaned, even dead-town brought back into the fold once it was drained. The reconstruction work was still on going and everywhere throughout the city cranes and construction zoomers rose above scaffolding as finished buildings gleamed in the summer sun. Jak's influence had only grown with time, every crisis in some way calling upon him to remedy it and he had accepted eventually at least some of the accolades lain at his feet. However he still pointedly refused the throne or any real fame, settling into a role overseeing the training of the new recruits of the Haven Guard.

A generous salary and endless favours to call upon had granted him a newly built house by the racing stadium, a spacious, three storey affair with a flat-roof that held a lovingly tended garden, the cleaner air of the area allowing flowers to bloom in their neat beds. Below it his bedroom showed how little his tastes had changed, no trace of pretentiousness in the fine but functional furnishings, light blues and whites decorating most of it. In accordance with his wife's tastes the main feature was a magnificent king-sized, four-poster bed. But this was a Saturday and Jak had long ago squashed the idea that six days out of seven away from Keira was an acceptable situation so upon this and every weekend their home was a secretive cottage in the Haven Forest.

The setting was ideal, straight from every fantasy tale, surrounded on all sides by unspoilt forest, jungle plants dotting the riverside as it wound it's way past the tranquil setting. Two floors of logs with a balcony over a porch, a sleek, powerful zoomer parked close by it nestled within a grove of tall, broad leafed trees that provided a shaded canopy. As the morning broke sunlight filtered through to cast streams of light through the glass, balcony doors, picking out motes of dust within the bedroom as upon the large, king-sized bed the couple began to stir.

Keira's slim frame rested against his muscled chest, his arm curled protectively around her waist. Time had done little to her features, still soft and beautiful, her eyes as bright as ever, contentment radiating from her as she lay with him, a small, lazy smile on her face. It had done little to him either, maturing his face a little and a choice of his own shortening his hair to a more manageable length, the mane now a sharp, controlled sweep of locks, the green tint at his forehead and temples lengthening to streak his whole head. They lay together in silence, none of the love that they bore for each other having lessened in their three years of marriage as they shared their presence, watching the shapes of birds flit from tree to tree as the forest animals switched shifts.

She turned slowly, lying against him as her arms circled his torso, her hair splaying out across his chest as the taper of her elven ear settled against his heartbeat, listening to the steady, soothing rhythm. His muscled arms surrounded her slowly, wrapping around her shoulders to pull her up to his lips.

'Keira.' He spoke her name softly, years of peace taking the edge from his voice, it's tone still deep and bass but no longer as dangerous as it had been.

She had shut her eyes as he claimed a kiss from her lips and opened them slowly as he spoke, smiling as she shifted to lay across his chest, her eyes still on his. 'Hmm?'

'How's my son?'

She smiled slowly, contentment radiating from her as she took his hand in hers and guided it to the low mound of her belly. 'Your daughter's fine Jak, she's still asleep.' Four months ago they had been ecstatic to find that they would be parents, nothing had changed since then but for the small banter as to the nature of their child.

One of his hands stroked her cheek slowly before moving to play gently with her hair as he looked down at her. 'You're going to be the most beautiful mother in the world, you know that don't you.'

She pressed a kiss to his palm, 'And you're going to be the best father in the world.' They shared a moment of happy silence before she spoke again. 'Have you thought about when we're going to tell dad?'

'I was thinking of announcing it at Daxter's wedding next month, hopefully Samos'll be happy enough with the occasion to only level one city block.'

She giggled quietly at the smile that crossed his face and swatted his shoulder playfully, 'You be nice.'

She suddenly shivered as a spark ran the length of her spine, a tingle that hit every nerve with a blossom of pleasure, she closed her eyes and sighed blissfully for a moment before she returned her gaze to him, a smile on her lips as she watched his smirk. Ever since he had learned to cast white eco from his body Jak had been a truly magnificent lover and setting her body to trembling had become one of his favourite hobbies. He leaned over and pressed a slow kiss to her lips, massaging them gently with his own.

'I'm always nice, Keira, you should know that by now.'

She smiled at him as the memory of the eco in her body tingled through her, her arms wrapping around his neck slowly. The dizzying thought that she had this to look forward to every morning for the rest of her life spiralled through her mind and she sat up, sitting astride his lap.

'Shut up and kiss me Jak.' He obeyed with relish, enclosing his wife in an embrace as he leant in to taste her lips once more, knowing that for the rest of his life she would be his and that nothing, no-one would ever come between them again. His life had never been a fairy tale, he had fought and bled and almost died countless times through it's course. But right now, with her in his arms, happily ever after had finally come true.

The End

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A.N. There you have it, an ending that I hope meets all of your expectations. Again I thank you all for your support, those of you such as Curiosity Inc and Lady Xiu Mei Pheonix have been the force that kept this story going and so my special thanks to you, I could never have finished this story without your honest critiques and reviews. The Haven Hero teaser is posted as the next chapter but for now please tell me what you thought of it and let me know if I did a good job of bringing this story to a close.

Go with God

The Visionary


	12. Haven Hero Teaser

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A.N. Just a quick teaser from the first few chapters of Haven Hero, I should start posting after I come back from a trip I'm leaving on so around the end of August will see the first instalment of Haven Hero going up on Hope to see you all there.

Go With God

The Visionary

Haven Hero

The hall was one of a dozen in Haven City Palace that matched the throne-room for size, the same high, vaulted ceiling showing a clear night sky but the bright light inside muting the stars. Along one edge a buffet table was laden with the food of the rich and powerful, chandeliers of glittering crystal lighting the entire room bright as day, catching on the jewels that bedecked the clothing of most of its occupants. The annual Haven Guard ball brought out the great and the good, nobles rubbing shoulders with Executives and Senior ranks of the Guard. Other venues throughout the city would hold their own parties for the different precincts and provide the rank and file with their own celebration but the privileged were allowed to show their faces here.

At one end, opposite the high, double doors a raised podium housed almost a complete orchestra, expertly played classical music providing a pleasant backdrop to the buzz of conversation. Along the wall opposite the buffet tables a row of balconies ran the length of the room, the glass doors open and a pleasant summer breeze wafting in, the evening air cool rather than cold despite the altitude the palace provided. Against one wall, standing apart from the rest of the party-goers the most celebrated couple in Haven City, Governor Ashelin and her fiancé, Commander Torn, leader of the Haven Guard conversed in low tones.

She was a tall, striking woman in her late twenties, her features sharp with quick, amber eyes. Her hair, a dark reddish hue was pulled back into a neat, almost military braid, a testament to her earlier years as a member of the Haven Guard before she had led them in a coup against her father. Her body too showed evidence of this past, sleek and well-muscled with a tight bust and hips. She wore a militaristic uniform, the cut of the dark blue material suiting her character, a pistol slung at her hip and her grace making it obvious that her office had not diminished her capabilities in the least. Twin lines ran down her face from each eye, thick lines of semitransparent dark ink that made her past all too obvious.

Torn's office meant that he had no need to don the full armour that combat troops used and he wore only a breastplate, fore-greaves and armoured boots over his dress uniform. It was a sleek black suit of military cut, slight touches of decoration added but his lack of stomach for pretentiousness meaning that for the most part it was utilitarian. His face showed the heavy tattoos of a Haven Guard officer, semitransparent marks of dark ink covering his entire face in sleek but bold patterns, tracing his career from the rank and file right to the top of the command chain.

Of course when he had risen it had been in the Krimson Guard, Baron Praxis' brutal army of enforcers and drug-fed sociopaths. It had nearly killed him to do what he had had to in order to rise as far as he had, far enough to join with Ashelin and overthrow her father. For almost a year turmoil had gripped the city, a power struggle raging back and forth before together the two managed to restore order, creating the Haven Guard from the ashes of the old regime. It was odd to think that just three years ago when the name guard was spoken it had meant terror almost as much to the people of the city as to the metalheads. Changing that in the eyes of the populace had been almost as much of a battle as gaining the throne.

A lifetime of giving orders had left his voice with a hard edge even when he spoke to his wife-to-be but she had long ago learned to love it. 'Are you sure it was wise bringing him here? He looks a little out of his depth.' He nodded toward a young guard easily ten years his junior as he struggled to deal with the ring of nobles that surrounded him, each of them talking happily to him, seemingly oblivious of his bewilderment.

Ashelin smiled and sipped the drink in her hand, champagne tickling her throat as it went down. 'Yes I'm sure. It's just the boost the Guard need in the eyes of the nobles. It'll help to grease the wheels when I move to expand the Guard budget in a month's time. Although, I'm gonna have to start selling them on it while I've got him here. Tell me about him.' She spoke smoothly, confident that her lover would have the information on hand. As she expected he reeled it off without missing a beat.

'Private Jak Doe, 18 years old, we don't know an exact date of birth but we estimate it at about 20th of the blue month. Weird kid, has amnesia, can't remember a thing before he was taken into the Haven orphanage at thirteen, the records there show that he had a pretty tough time, got into a lot of fights but won most of them from what I can see. He was a wastelander for a while in recent years, joined at sixteen, good one too according to our bounty records. Spent the last two years outside the walls collecting trophies before the recruitment campaign caught his eye. Graduated before most of the new recruits so he's got about three month's service under his belt, made about a couple dozen arrests in that time, mostly small stuff, a couple of brawls and the like. Nothing above level two until he brought the senator and his daughter out of the jungle.'

Ashelin nodded slowly, her lips pursed in thought. 'Good, sounds perfect. Make sure he's in the next round of sergeants so we can give his name a nice ring to it.' She watched him as he laughed nervously at a noble's joke, taking a long sip from his drink to steady his nerves as another dignitary enveloped his hand in a shake.

His most distinctive feature was a wild plume of blonde hair, his locks swept back, a natural green tint streaking them at his forehead and temples. His features were rugged and handsome and marked him as no more than eighteen at the most, his eyes a piercing blue. His dress uniform bore much of the armour he would wear on the street, his breastplate, greaves, boots, braces and even the heavy shoulder pad on his right arm all polished to a sheen so that they would not seem out of place against the black, military cut material made up the rest of the suit. His black weapon belt was a new one bought specifically for this function so that his used and worn leather holster would not seem out of place, his fire-lance retracted into it's passive form as it hung from his hip. On his shoulder, beneath the Seal of Marr on his shoulder that marked him as one of Haven City's protectors a single red lightning bolt showed him to be no more than a private. Upon his chest two medals gleamed as he nodded absently at yet another comment or reminisce from the assembled nobles.

Suddenly he felt a presence behind him and turned to find Governor Ashelin standing in the ring of nobles, a smile on her face as she sipped at her drink.

'You must be Jak, congratulations you on your actions out in the wasteland two days ago. The way I hear it Senator Samos and his daughter would be dead if it was not for you.'

He had received a hundred congratulations just like it that night but most of them had been from faceless dignitaries whose names he had forgotten after five minutes. Ashelin was a woman famously reluctant to indulge frivolities and praise from her was not something to be taken lightly. Before he could stammer out a thank you however she had turned him so that he stood alongside her, her voice commanding an immediate audience from the nearby nobles, each turning to take her in and the boy at her side.

'You're a tribute to the Haven Guard Jak, a sign that things have truly changed.' Though she spoke to him her words were for the nobles and a crowd gathered around her, just as she had wanted. 'It is only a pity that Senator Samos and his daughter could not be here in person to thank you but I know that they are very grateful for what you have done, the whole city is. I'm going to make it my mission to see that people like you get the support and backing they deserve, no expense will be spared in ensuring that the rebirth of the Haven Guard will continue to produce such dazzling recruits.' The evening droned on in this fashion as Jak suddenly found himself as the face of the Haven Guard. Ashelin espoused his virtues and the daring of his escapade to the guests with an ease that made it plain he was merely a prop in a speech that would have gone ahead with or without his deeds and his presence. It took him almost a half-hour to make his excuses and leave her side, retreating to one of the far balconies, finding a haven there from the swirl of politics within. He sighed as he leaned against the rail, if he'd known it would cause him this much trouble he'd have left the pair of them where he found them, being chased down by two dozen metalheads. The face of the daughter flitted through his mind, a memory of when he had swept down on his zoomer and plucked her to safety, the relief, the gratitude, the beauty, all had captivated him. God she had been beautiful.

He ran a hand through his hair as he leaned against the rail, undoing a half hour of pristine styling by the palace's staff as he let it regenerate into it's normal swept back locks. He hooked a finger into the collar of his dress jacket and tried to give himself room to breath again before he settled for undoing the high-buttoned collar, letting the cool night air hit his skin with a sigh. Turning his face upward he let the breeze drift over his features, closing his eyes as he savoured the sensation for a moment. He opened them again and let his gaze drift to the city below and then onto the wasteland beyond, smiling as the peace of altitude calmed him.

'You know usually the guest of honour at a party is supposed to stay right till the end.' He jumped at the sudden voice behind him letting out a cry of alarm as he span, one hand automatically scrambling for the fire-lance at his belt. A blush crept onto his cheeks as he found himself staring into the eyes of a slight woman no more than a few paces behind him on the expansive balcony. She giggled and covered her mouth with a demure hand, her eyes sparkling with good humour as she moved to join him against the rail, leaning out beside him. He felt his blush deepen, it was Keira.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.' Her voice was youthful, energetic, her soft yet intelligent stare an eye-catching aquamarine in the pale moonlight, set in a face of soft, attractive features, bee-stung lips touched with red. He felt a twinge of concern at the dark stain of a bruise on her cheek that her light make-up was unable to hide, it had to have come from when he'd rescued her, he should have been more careful. Her dress was a light blue, traditional, high-necked and silken affair clinging to her body in just the right places to accentuate her figure without appearing overly provocative, her full bust and round hips part of an athletic frame.

He groped for words as he leant back once more, trying to regain at least a little of his dignity, 'I, no, um sorry, I just wanted to get out of there for a while. I'm… not good with crowds. I… I thought that you and uh… Senator Samos weren't at the ball.'

She shrugged, 'Officially we're not, he doesn't even know I'm here. I just wanted to thank you for saving me and Daddy.' Her manner was not that of someone high-born yet Jak's ingrained awkwardness with those of higher rank still managed to make him stumble over his words, the fact she was possibly the most attractive thing he'd ever set eyes on didn't help matters either.

'Uh, yeah, um, sorry about your cheek.' He backed away a step, unsure of what to do with himself after failing to give a proper greeting in the first place

She smiled and raised a placating hand. 'You were saving my life, I think I can forgive a little bruise. Your name's Jak right?'

'Um… yeah.'

'Well thank you again.' Before he could stop her she'd enclosed him in a brief hug, her slim arms wrapping around his shoulders to squeeze him affectionately for a moment.

He backed away another step, stopping abruptly as he hit the railing on the balcony edge, he ran a hand across the back of his neck nervously as he tried to return her smile, bowled over by the pace of events. 'I, um, you're welcome. It's… it's my job.'

She turned from him to lean against the balcony rail once more, staring out across the city, 'I can understand why you came out here actually. It's a little much in there.'

He rejoined her at the rail as she glanced at him in invitation, 'I know what you mean. I couldn't even understand half of what they were saying.' He said with a rueful grin.

She laughed, a light, musical sound, ' Yeah, I think most of it was good but Senator Marcus lost me after "concordantly". My dad never much saw the point in talking like you've swallowed a thesaurus. Some of the words they used aren't even in the dictionary. I should know, I used to try to look them up so I could figure out what was going on.' This time he laughed with her, a little of his anxiety wearing off, she may have been a high-born but she did not seem to mind sharing a joke with a street-bred.

'So tell me Jak, have you been with the Haven Guard long?'

His eyes rose to take in the panorama of the city below them, 'No, not really, just three months.'

She raised here eyebrows a fraction, 'Well I must say I'm impressed, I saw the way you handled the speeder out there, it was great flying, especially with me and dad as passengers.'

He smiled appreciatively at her praise, 'Well I was a wastelander for a couple years before I joined up and since I had a bit of experience the Captain let me have one instead of giving me foot patrol.'

Her eyes caught the lightning bolt on his shoulder, 'That's Captain Michael's right? Of Storm Squad?'

Jak grinned proudly, everybody had heard of Storm Squad, they were the best the Haven Guard had to offer, he would be the first member that had not fought in the Praxis Wars as a member of the Underground. 'Yeah, he hand-picked me from the last batch of recruits.'

She grinned, 'Then that means you'll be getting issued your speeder soon right?'

'Yeah, why?'

Her grin widened as pride sparkled in her eyes, 'I make 'em.'

'You?' Jak's surprise was plain on his face.

She smirked at him playfully, 'Yeah, what's the matter? Can't believe that a little girl like me could build something like that?'

'I, uh, sorry, it's just that… well you're father's Senator Samos, I just…'

'You thought I'd be one of those boring noble women that sit in their palace suite all day?' She shook her head, 'Tried it, didn't like it. I've always been good with machines so I spend a lot of time in the Guard Garages, I custom build every single Storm Squad speeder. Captain Michaels would have probably introduced us in a few weeks anyway. Although I have to say I'm glad we met when we did, Jak.' She smiled again, a hypnotising curve of her full lips. Pulling something from the confines of her sleeve she handed him a small card. 'Here's my number, if you've ever got a free night I'd love to meet up with you, maybe take in a race.'

He could not nor wanted to stop the grin that spread across his face as he pocketed her card, trying desperately to hide some of his excitement. 'Sure, uh, I'd… I'd like that.'

Another smile as she turned from him, her eyes staying on his as she looked back over her shoulder, 'Me too.'


End file.

Jak and Daxter, Adventure, Romance