Taking Orders from Nobody

Disclaimer: Do not own.

To resurrect this fic, I'm going to be spending a week or so editing it, chapter by chapter, and adding it to my Ao3 Profile, because it's going to be in my document manager, so it's a quick copy/paste away. Anyway, its been a while and I've got a lot of work to do.

Support your local library. Remember to take some time to make sure your music isn't bleeding through your head phones.

Prologue:

A void was a strange place to find a stain glass pillar.

Jak, as any mostly good person would do, checked the soles of his shoes for grime and gore. They were strangely spotless. He could have sworn they had been dirty before. Really dirty, actually. Yes. He had trekked through Haven Forest, getting them caked an inch upwards with mud, and then he had gone to the pumping station after-wards, getting sand in the mud and pebbles in the treads, and there was never a day that went by without him getting blood on his shoes.

Strange that they were completely clean now, dirt should be falling off in chunks, and sand should be shedding like glitter.

He bowed his head and held his fingertips to his forehead, thinking. How had he gotten here? He could not remember. He had just been... He had been walking around Haven City with Keira, and then he had been simply pulled away from it all, flung across the ocean and plunged in to the black, icy depths, (but his clothes were very... He checked. Not wet) only to wind up on this glass pillar.

He was dreaming.

No wonder his shoes were clean!

Yes. Of course. That was why Daxter dissolved on his shoulder and Keira had been turned to dust at his side, and all of the city shattered like a mirror.

Right. Clean shoes. Dreaming. Now that that was established, he could focus on the more important things. Like, why he dreamed of a stained glass pillar in the middle of a void. Or, why the dream had wound up in the void at all; why had he not gained lucidity earlier so he could be back in dream-Keira's apartment right now.

Or the garage.

Or at least have her on this pillar.

"That's right." He said to himself. This place had great acoustics, "This is my dream. She'll just appear if I want her too."

Jak, a voice poured directly into his mind, Jak we don't have time for these shenanigans.

"WOAH!" Jak spun around, scanning the darkness, and then the pillar for any sign of anyone else. He noticed a hand, wrought in iron and filled with marbled and waving glass, spilling from it were small, narrow, pink shells, the contouring lines were a hair's width, and the glass faded from a pale yellow to a rich pink. The craftsmanship was incredible.

He followed the hand to the arm, and upwards to the shoulder, then to a neck, framed by deep sea colored curls, and a heart-shaped face with green eyes and slanting eyebrows that betrayed sympathy for the world.

It was Keira.

"Damn it, this isn't what I had in mind."

Jak we don't have time for this!

"Even in my dreams I can't get anywhere with Keira!" he threw up a hand. "Just when I have some control over things, poof here comes a genie that still screws me over."

Jak!

"Oh shut up, it's just a dream anyway."

The voice tried to sound calm and firm. It did not work. Jak this is not a dream. This is a serious issue. The world is in danger.

"Oh, I get what this is." He groaned in frustration. Some stress-related dream a head-shrink he could not afford would analyze into little, deeply meaningless pieces. Great. "Look, mystery voice, if the world is in danger—yet again—I'll handle it. I just sent the Metalheads running—Seriously, it was last Thursday. I can handle whatever you have to throw at me, too."

The voice seemed to huff in annoyance. It was a nondescript noise, much like the voice itself, featureless. It was a figment of his mind. Three items appeared and hovered in the air about chest-high; a red and black shield, a blue and green club, and a blue and gold sword. Jak looked from one to the other to the next. They were strange things for him to imagine. Maybe he should see a shrink. This would at least provide a challenge for them. He tilted his head and planted a hand on his hip, awaiting instructions. If this was a dream, he was smart enough to know he was only arguing with himself.

The voice was just going through the motions; Which will you choose?

Jak had never quite mastered beating people up with shields. The entire concept was alien to him. He had never truly encountered shields before; they were just artifacts from a time he had missed, they had gained popularity when he went through the rift—and very short-lived, too. They were clumsy things, war trophies made from the husks of fallen Metalheads, with little utility value—the carbon based, semi-metallic plates grew brittle and decayed quickly after death without the addition of resin; and resin was not a readily available natural resource. Anything sword-like had never been his forte. He just did not like the hassle of keeping them sharp, and when faced with a heavily-armored foe, it was too much to have to think about how to do damage by finding the one little slit between two plates. He had never used a sword before. He had never managed to get on in the past, Sandover Village had never had a blacksmith, and no one used them to the future. It was a gun or blunt force trauma for him. He liked the idea of; stab down with the butt of your gun, let static shock to the rest. It was a peaceful medium between clumsy and skilled.

So he chose the club.

The voice, though featureless, sounded a little perturbed and surprised, so what was supposed to be cool and authoritative came out slightly unsure. The... The power of the mystic? Eh—Inner strength...? A-a-a staff of wonder and ruin...? Is this the power you choose?

Jak shrugged. He was never one for fancy talk—he was just going to bop people with it. Rather than say it, he just muttered, "Yeah."

Very well. The club vanished. Now, which will you give up?

"Well." Jak looked from the sword to the shield, "Everyone always says the best defense is a good offense, and I've never been given a reason to disagree, so..." He gripped the handle. This time, the voice did not sound too shocked. The power of the guardian. Kindness to aid friends. A shield to repel all. Is this the power you give up?

"Yeah." Jak replied casually. It vanished, too, "Weird."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jak saw a shadow glide across the glass. He turned towards it, and it stopped. It had a definite shape to it, like whatever owned it was directly above it though Jak could not see it, a round head that was much larger than its body, willowy, pointed fingers, solid, pointed feet with no toes, and a pair of all-seeing yellow eyes. He took a long moment to observe those eyes. They glowed, the yellow from them shone onto the tips of his boots, and his hand when he stretched it out. He reached down and touched it, but all he felt was glass, ridged and bumpy and cold as ice. The shadow jumped suddenly and went away, then circled him. Two more showed up.

"These things?" he asked, "These are the new threat? I can't possibly be afraid of them! They're so..."

Something sharp, a set of claws, swiped across his back. Jak threw himself forward and caught himself on his hand, gasping a little in shock and pain. It was just a dream, right? How could this hurt him? He looked back as one of the shadow-creatures finished its arch in the air and landed on the glass floor, this time with depth. It looked around, twitching as it did so, hunching down like a scared animal that some horrible person had given too many stimulants, and focused on him again.

The club appeared in his hand. It was light weight. He balanced the long grip in his hand and bounced the head of it against his left palm. Too light to do any real damage. It was so strangely shaped. It reminded him of something, but he could not figure out what, exactly. For the time being, it looked like two smaller circles stuck to one larger one, like a little drawing of a water molecule, but why would that be on a club?

It's a staff.

"Same thing."

A second one had moved in. It had cozied right up to him and had clawed at his boot. Jak hardly felt it this time, but he was not about to underestimate it again. The marks on his back still stung from the first one. He kicked it away. He reminded himself that the pain was just as fake as everything else, and not to be afraid.

You should be afraid. The voice whispered to him.

"Well I'm not." He said. He reached for his gun, but could not find it. "Where is my gun?"

Useless. The voice answered. It's useless.

But at least he had the club. He swung at the first one that came to him, and the staff made it go a small distance, but it did not seem to do much damage. It righted itself and came right back for him.

"Well this is yakshit."

You should have taken the sword!

"I don't know how to use a sword!"

You don't have the right disposition for magic! Oh, this is terrible!

Jak continued to hack away at the shadows as they came at him, then he realized, this was only a dream, he could just wake up. He tried.

And he failed. Weeks of 'suddenly back in prison' nightmares had made him good at getting himself out of bad dreams, but this time, it just was not happening. While he was frozen in place, trying to wake up, about six of the little monsters jumped on him and pinned him down, all while the voice gained more and more emotion by the second, and was wailing on about how the world was lost to the "Heartless" because no one could go the distance.

"These things are heavy!"

What is it about this world that fails to produce pure-hearted people? Where did we go wrong?

The creatures were now fusing and melding together to form a pool of blackness at his feet, but this time, the glass did not remain, and he was pulled down into it, about to his knees, and it sucked him in slowly. Much slower than Dark Eco would, and this did not sear and burn like Eco, this was cold, and more misty. This was a weird dream.

The darkness grew to cover the entire platform, and on the other side, a huge thing emerged. It had yellow eyes, just like the little shadows had, but this one was much more human in appearance, with a beard and hair. There was also a gaping heart-shaped hole in its chest.

It reached out for Jak, who tried vainly to swing it away, but the hand was larger than he was, and it overpowered him, pushing him completely into the darkness around his legs.

Jak sat upright so fast he nearly bumped his head onto the bunk above him. He stopped just in time—this would not have been the first time it happened, after all. His eyes found Daxter, also awake, laying in his little makeshift hammock. Jak had strung a green scrap of cloth between the wire frame supporting the mattress above them, and that was where he slept in the warmer months when body heat was not so desirable. He looked just as miserable and shaken as Jak was himself, like he had a strange dream of his own.

He faked his smile, "G'morning."

Jak donned a mask, "Mornin'."

Neither one asked how the other slept. Daxter settled in for a few more minutes of sleep while Jak got up to shower and put on fresh clothes.

He did not like living in the underground's HQ, not really, but it was cheaper than his own apartment, and no one would lease to a wanted criminal. Even if he had just saved the city. He found clean clothes in his locker, but not enough coins for the laundromat. He heaved a sigh, shrugged it off, and headed for the showers. They were about as private as they could be while still being communal. He did not like public baths—holdover from his days in prison—but the metal walls hastily (and poorly) bolted into the tile floor made a world of difference.

They could not stop sound, though.

"I had the weirdest dream last night!"

"N-no kidding?"

Jak inwardly groaned and squeezed his blue eyes shut. He did not want to hear it. They fell silent, completely unrelated to his self-contained outburst, and an awkward, drawn pause followed. In the furthest corner, someone dropped a bar of soap and it slid all the way down to the shared drain.

"Yeah." The first man said. "No kidding."

And just like that, the subject was dropped. This caught Jak's attention. He straightened up again and looked towards them, but he but he did not demand they share this weird dream. That would be rude. He finished washing up in silence, dried off and changed clothes. Trimmed his goatee, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair.

And combed his hair.

And combed his hair.

And he could not shake it.

He felt like he was being watched. A chill ran up his spine as he though he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness under the lockers. He saw a fluid blur of orange soon after, and it stopped where he thought he saw the eyes. Daxter straightened up and put his paws on his hips, "Hey, big guy!" he dropped on all fours again and moved closer. His tone changed, grew more gentle. Could he sense that Jak was still worried? "Torn's got a job for us, and he looks extra pissy today."

His sass and enthusiasm were both faked. He looked so tired. Everything felt tired. The very air seemed heavy with everyone's shared worry. He shut everything away inside his locker and knelt down so Daxter could climb on to his shoulder. He could feel it everywhere. He was not even sure what it was. It might be a mix of everything, but it permeated down to the Eco. And it scared him.

Torn looked just as drawn as the rest of them. He was standing at the table, like he always was, staring down at the map of the city, his hands on either side of it, but he did not seem to be looking at it. There was something wild about the way he looked this morning, his blue eyes were glazed over, and his brown hair, which normally stayed back without an issue, was frizzy and unkempt, like he had tossed a lot in his sleep, and there was an uncharacteristic paleness in his tanned skin. He was actually staring at his phone with that glazed look. It was open and dead center on the map. Jak did not know how many numbers he had on that phone. Had he called someone?

"Torn."

Torn did not respond.

"Dax said you had a mission for us?"

He blinked and muttered, "The Wasteland."

"WHAT?!" Daxter demanded, it was not faked at all. He hopped down, and got between Torn and his phone; furry mug to tattooed face, "You want us to risk our butts out there? What for?"

Torn jumped back, blinked, and shook his head, "Not just you." He said, "Sig. You'll meet him at the Hip Hog—"

"It's the Naughty Ottsel!"

Torn shouted through a gate of teeth, "—What! Ever! Just meet him there and go investigate a reading the research team picked up! We think its surviving Metalheads. Get rid of 'em before they get a new leader."

"Right." Jak said. He took Daxter by the scruff of the neck and placed him on his shoulder. He snatched up his morph gun by the stairs and headed on up into the alley way. He did not bother with stealing a vehicle. One of the good things about Keira's JET board was that he could use it to travel the city without committing any crimes. He went a bit slower, but there were fewer mistakes to be made traveling so low and so much slower.

Of course, there were more voices to hear.

"And was there?"

"Yes! Yes there was!"

Jak glanced up at Daxter on his shoulder, his head followed the pair, ears swiveling to hear more talk of dreams. His eyes snapped to Jak, who faced forward immediately.

"What do you mean it was her instead of me?"

"Look, Babe, it was just a dream, right?"

He hovered on, scanning the faces of everyone he passed. They all seemed so worried, and Jak wondered if everyone had all had the same dream. How could everyone have the same dream? How? He stopped. He had too. There was an early-morning jam in front of him and he had to find the best way to go either over or around without upsetting any of the KG. He could smell coffee and it reminded him that he had not eaten yet today. He could go for a coffee. He would have to hurry up with Sig today. He could grab lunch with Keira.

"And the eyes!"

"So unsettling!"

"And that giant... Giant thing."

Jak looked at Daxter again. The Ottsel starred past him, with a glazed, worried look.

"But who was it?"

"Not who. It was—"

Jak did not hear. He saw an opening and he went for it, ducking under one car and hopping over the next, and clearing it, and they were moving on again. They went down to the port, where the glowing orange Ottsel stood there, cocky and proud. Inside, there was Tess. Just Tess. She was wiping down the counter, but she did not appear too worried. She looked strangely chipper. Then again, she was always chipper.

Daxter put on his fake glee again, but he was good at faking it. He jumped off of Jak's shoulder, and bounded off of the tables, sliding to the bar right in front of her. "Tess baby!"

The blonde put on big smile and scooped him up, "Good morning my little cuddlebun." Jak rolled his eyes. "I dreamed about you."

Daxter kept laying it on thick. "I dreamed about you too, precious."

She hugged him close, "Oooh, and what were we doing, teddy bear?"

If Daxter had had the same dream as Jak, and perhaps as the rest of Haven City, he did not breathe a word of it, not even to Tess, "You tell me first, choochy-face."

"I'll just wait outside." Jak muttered. Neither one noticed him. He went out—he would leave Daxter to his bar, it was fine. The little guy deserved some time to unwind; there was no reason to drag him out into the Wasteland. He leaned against the wall by the door and shoved his hands in his pockets. He thought about eating again, and then he thought about calling Keira to set up that lunch date. He needed to get some practice on the racing zoomer. She had tuned it up a few days ago, and he still had not tried it out.

He checked the sky. Over the wall, he could see the cusp of a storm brewing, really dark clouds moving along in a slow circle. It did not look particularly dangerous. He waited ten, maybe twelve, minutes. Then Sig came around, looking big, dark, and burly in his big, dark, and burly hover-car. He stared to lower it down and park but Jak just hopped into it.

His one green eye gave him a once over, "No Daxter?"

Jak looked towards the bar, "Nah."

Sig shrugged and the two zoomed off again, over the port, heading in the direction of the clouds. Sig did not bring them up. Jak tried to make a little conversation, "You really think its metal heads?"

"Hope so." He said, "Don't really want to imagine anything worse."

He was right. Jak rested his chin on his hand as they went over the port and turned around, still heading in the direction of the clouds, but not on a direct course. Jak had better view now. He saw a flash of lightning, "Storm's coming." He said.

"That so?" Sig looked for himself, "So it is. We better wrap this up quick. Looks like it's near where we're headed."

"Thunderstorms in the desert?"

"Sand and thunderstorm in the desert. This is just the edge of the Wasteland. Storms get pretty nasty out there."

Jak tried once again to shake that bad feeling off. Waking up with paranoia was one thing, letting it get to him for the entire day was even worse. He had to stop it.

Sig parked the zoomer by an unassuming little building, and the two went inside. Inside, it looked somewhat official, with a clerk's desk on one side and the entrance to a tunnel on the other. The desk had the KG insignia on it, but the woman behind the desk was probably not KG. She looked far too intellectual, with her hair pulled back into a tight twist.

"Heading outside today?"

"Yeah."

She looked at Sig, and pushed her glasses up her nose. They slid right back down again. She looked at Jak, then to a wanted poster of Jak, and looked back at her paperwork. Things were different now. He would have been worried she saw it, but now he was just offended it was still there. Sure, legal things took time, but Ashlin had given him an official pardon. His face should not be plastered everywhere. Maybe she just like looking at him. Creepy. He preferred to think she had just never gotten around to taking it down.

The tunnel lead to a single Eco-powered trolley big enough to fit a small team of scientists and an escort of Krimson Guards, it was empty, though. Jak and Sig sat on opposite sides of the trolley, and did not look at each other, until the trolley came to a slow, screeching stop and Sig nodded for him to head out. Jak followed, until they reached the ladder heading up, and his phone rang.

He took it out and he expected it to be Daxter, Why'd you leave me behind, big guy? I don't want to coddle with Tess all day here! But it was Keira. He smiled a bit, a little of the pressing, bad feeling went away, "Hey."

"Jak..." Keira sounded worried, "Jak, don't go out today. Come to the garage."

The bad feeling came right back. "W-why?"

"I have a bad feeling." She said, "I really do, Jak."

"I'm already out. I..." she'd worry more if he told her the truth, "I'm at the pumping station, I—"

"Oh no." she whimpered. Her voice got shrill and small, "Jak, please come back."

"I'll be there later. Maybe an hour, hour and a half."

"Jak, I'm terrified."

"Why?" He asked, but he knew why. He glanced up, everything seemed pretty calm up top, so he backed away to keep the conversation from echoing up, "What's wrong?"

Her reply was delayed. Her voice was smaller than ever before, he wanted to claim he had misheard her, because what she said chilled him to the bone.

"I had a strange dream last night."

"No."

"It's fading." She said, "Yellow eyes just... Just staring at me. Jak, please."

Yellow eyes.

"Just sit tight, Keira, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Now."

"As soon as I can." He hung up, and that bad, pressing feeling intensified. His stomach churned at he felt like he was not even there. He felt nauseous. He gripped the phone tightly in one hand, and tried to focus on the secure and hefty weight of his gun on his back. He tucked the phone away and gripped the ladder. Sig's dark face appeared in the hole above him.

"Get you skinny ass up here!"

Jak hurried up the ladder into the little outpost. They were on the very edge of the wasteland, just like Sig had said. It looked like the storm had spread to the entirety of the wasteland, the clouds had spread, and there was lightning jump from cloud to cloud and down to the ground. Everyone there was in a state of reserved panic. Too panicked to even notice them. Everything was being pulled to the wasteland, the sand, the rocks, the trees bowed down to it, even the light, it seemed.

"Looks like a tornado."

Even Jak knew that was a lie. It was a straight-up vortex. There was an eerie, sickly light in those clouds; it was a sight he wished he had never seen.

His phone rang again. It was Torn this time. "We're getting everyone into the palace."

"Why?"

Torn minced no words: "What did you dream last night?"

"Fuck it. I'm still dreaming."

Torn might have told him not to sass him. Jack did not hear it. There was a flash of light and a terrible noise. Whole sections of the ground came up; it was not a storm. It was a black hole. Trees were uprooted. It vanished into the light and only darkness remained.

"No one's going out there!" a short little man shouted at Sig, "No one is going outside. We're getting into the trolley; we're heading back to the city. It's too dangerous out here!"

"There is an entire city—"

"It's pulling up the ground." The scientist shouted back, "Whatever is out there, I'm sorry, the KG can do without it. It's lost."

There was another powerful flash, the building cracked, and the ground outside split open. Everything pitched, and Jak lost his balance, accidentally hanging up on Torn.

"If the world is ending, you can do what you want, but I'd like to find my family."

"Sig, he's right." Jak came to the man's defense, "This isn't Metalheads. It's something else. We need to go."

Sig looked towards the storm. The darkness spread. The ground crumbled and the ball of trapped light grew larger. It did not show any signs of stopping. Not any time soon. Getting to the palace was not going to do much but delay the inevitable. Sig new that, too. So did everyone else. But there was a lab at the palace. Maybe a chance to get some knowledge. What did he want, to die fighting vainly or wait for an even chance? "Go." Sig agreed, "Everyone go."

They all managed to cram back into the trolley; Jak took his gun from his back and stood closest to the door. He switched to the Vulcan barrel. Whatever they were facing, he would mow down as many as he could, and get as many people to the palace as he could. The tunnel was collapsing behind them.

And Jak was understandably terrified.

Where were Daxter and Tess? Had they made it to the palace? Torn must have, and Ashelin was already there. He looked back at the collapsing tunnel. It was still far behind, falling progressive further behind them. Was it slowing down, or were they just out running it? They would at least make it into the city wall. The trolley stopped, and no sooner had the doors opened than they had all rushed out on to the platform, and began hurrying up the ladder. Sirens were blaring, a signal for everyone to make their way to whatever shelter they could find. Jak kicked the door to the outside open and started shooting.

The creatures from his dream were everywhere, climbing up the buildings, climbing down the city wall. "Keep together!" he heard Sig shout, "And run."

There were too many to try to fit into one car, and no cars that were in any condition to work. They had all driven to the palace, and any that were left behind were wrecked and covered with the shadow creatures. The Vulcan ammo ripped through them, whatever they were, and Sig's peacemaker could take out large swaths of them at once. They were not even all that far from the palace.

But damn, they were everywhere!

Jak began to worry again.

He was running out of Vulcan ammunition. He switched to the scatter gun, which was nowhere near as effective, and then to the blaster, which worked, but was slower. They were about half way by that time. Sig had no more shots left, and he could not fend off all of them.

Running worked, except for the fact that they kept tripping over the very things they were meant to be fleeing form.

By the time the palace doors were in sight, there was a perimeter around it that kept the creatures back and allowed them a safe and smooth transition to the inside. The palace was filled with refugees, it was standing room only. Jak pushed himself from room to room, looking for Daxter, Torn, anyone who could give him some answers. He found a single guard, and demanded, "Where are Torn and Ashelin?"

"Waiting for you." He replied, "Top floor."

He jerked the head of his staff to the elevator. Jak took it without question. Was it just Torn and Aselin? He fumbled for his phone in the elevator and dialed Keira's number. She did not pick up. He snapped it shut, leaned his head back, and took a deep breath to calm himself. Daxter had to be up there. Keira had to be up there. They were up there. They had to be.

The doors opened and he came out to see Daxter, Ashelin and Torn standing around an electronic map of the city, planning a strategy. Onin sat a ways off, Pecker in his dish on her head. He saw no Samos. He saw no Keira. They looked relieved to see him. Daxter jumped off the table, swung up to his arm and climbed to his shoulder, "Jak, I thought I'd never see you again, buddy!"

To reassure himself that Daxter was there, he placed a hand on his side, curling his fingers around his back, "Where is Keira? Samos?"

Torn did not sugar coat it, "The things came in through the port and water slums. They pushed every one this way, but they cut off the racing stadium. We've got people trapped there. They're trapped with them."

"You have to get them out."

"We can't." Ashelin replied. "There are too many, and we're doing all we can to keep them out of the palace."

"Sig and I came though that and survived. You telling me you can't?"

"I'm telling you it's not worth it. You're the best we've got."

"And I'm going to rescue my friends." He spat back, he turned on his heel, then stopped and looked at Daxter. He picked him up and took him off his shoulder, "Daxter, you should stay here."

"Hell no!" he shouted right in Jak's ear. He clawed madly for Jak's metal spaulder, until he managed to get free of his hand and back on. He righted himself and dug his claws in to his skin through the fabric and glared at him, "Tess went out there and pulled the same crap! I'm not letting you leave me behind twice in the same day, buddy! It's not even noon yet!"

"You sure?"

"I've stuck with you through two too many apocalypses for you to ask a dumb question like that!" he dug his claws in more and hunkered down, "We're still the demolition duo!"

Jak gave him a little nod and stepped into elevator again, "I'm getting more ammo."

He went down into the basement, where other weapons and equipment were stored. He stocked up on everything while Daxter waited impatiently on his shoulder. When everything was loaded and the gun was back on its Vulcan setting, he headed out to the elevator again, and he elbowed his way outside of the confused and terrified mob of civilians.

It was freezing cold and dark outside. The stars were gone. The air was thin. Papers and flags and lighter objects were being pulled along and picked up by the vortex. He could feel the ground shaking. He asked, "Why the hell did Tess go out?"

"Because people were trapped in the stadium, and she's five foot four and can take care of herself!" Daxter replied almost bitterly. "She's got her guns, she's got her fancy new blade—"

Tess must have designed some kind of sword. A bit odd for her, but she could branch out if she wanted too. They hit the thick of it now, so Jak tuned him out, and concentrated on navigating the JET board thought the sea of yellow-eyed shadows towards the stadium. He could not just mow through them, he had to save his ammunition for the trip back, but that was not a particularly good strategy for getting those people to the palace. He had no idea how many there were. He could not escort too many people, it just was not practical.

Daxter grabbed ahold of his ear and yanked, "WILL YOU OPEN YOUR EYES AND TAKE A LOOK AROUND?!" Daxter shrieked, "Look, Jak, will you just—friggen—look!"

The wall was crumbling close to the vortex behind them. Larger debris were moving now, he leaned forward and crouched down to keep from being sucked away. Houses were being pulled away and sucked in. It was growing so quickly now, flickering and pulsing and glowing with all the light it had stolen away. There was a deafening, twining, metallic snap from above, and then a crumbling noise. One of the support towers for the palace—there was another one—two of the support towers from the palace had given way.

He heard the palace buckling and groaning, but it did not look like it was going to fall. It would hold itself up. It had to, just for a little bit. They were almost there. It was going to fall! He looked back. Everyone inside was going to be killed. "Keep an eye on it, Dax."

"They'll never be able to evacuate in time!"

"Just make sure it doesn't fall on us." He said.

He went to the right. It would be a longer way to the stadium, but that was fine. Whatever got him there alive. There was a third twining snap from across the city, and the very sound was almost sucked in by the black hole. It did not matter. They could see the garage now. Between it and them, there was a field of black and yellow, spreading across the plaza. Jak saw a few of them go flying, and looked to the source. He saw Tess, hacking her way through them elegantly, gracefully, like she had been born to do it. There was, exactly like Daxter had said, a sword in her hand, but it was strangely shaped. Really, it was more of an axe than a sword, from what Jak could see—and that was very little.

Jak kicked the JET board up, started skimming over the shadow creatures. He reached out his hand, his other hand gripping the JET board around the edge fingers burning in the heat from the engine, anchoring himself to it so he could grab Tess and pull her out of the mob—Get her to the stadium, get her to Keira just a little bit faster. Seconds counted.

And then that void drew one final, all-consuming breath.

Also, I'm still sorry that is a text-anvil.