Chapter 1: Notice
Two guards passed by him not even glancing at his direction. One thing this city offered was too many hidden alcoves. Perfect for cover. He pushed himself off the wall and slowly cradled into the light. The sun was hidden by many clouds and the smog of the city also hindered the golden light. He needed to get to the transport immediately. The information he had just gathered was too important and every second counted. The sooner he passed the archive over to his superior the sooner his nightmares would end.

He walked slowly in the shadows and far away from the guards' view. Anyone would recognize him without the hood. His braids would give him away. The only reason he never removed them while on a mission was because of his loyalty. He dressed like the Haven folk, walked like them, when needed even talked like them, but his braids would draw too much attention. Too many questions to answer if he ever got caught. The only time he would ever remove his braids where when he needed to wash his hair and the monthly trip to his hairdresser. He liked his hair, not much to add there. Many his age had it cut short but he preferred his hair shoulder length. He had always had it that long and always in braids. For the past 23 years, he doesn't recall one day or event when his hair was either short or not braided; Except maybe when I was born.

It wasn't that far to the Port, Just keep in the shadows. Keep a low profile and no one will see you. Sure, the shadows during the day didn't exactly give any cover but they helped in keeping secrets secret. He passed the great statue of the damnable Baron. He didn't hate him, but Hell he didn't like him at all. That reasoning existed a few weeks ago, now he loathed the man with all his might. The reason he couldn't stand the thought of him anymore lay within the archive of information he held hidden beneath his jacket.

It was a good thing he was still pretty young, otherwise he'd be looked upon as a weirdo. Not to mention the Krimson Guard would pick on him. So being his age and dressing up like an Emo or Goth or whatever these city kids called themselves was acceptable. Too bad he was blond though, another reason to keep his hood on. He'd never dye it. He hated dye on his scalp.

The good out of his disguise was that the younger, incredibly more curious population never asked him questions. Everyone minded their own business. His appearance screamed at the young generation "Leave me alone" and alone they did leave him. The only time he had to talk to them was when curiosity took the best of him.

A group had settled near the fortress. They seemed to be waiting for something or someone. He wanted to ask them, but not without an excuse. He walked over to them calmly, glad to see a few of them smoking rolled examples of cigarettes and the less legal products.

Two of them looked up as he approached, sizing him up. He looked at them all from under his hood.

"Any y'all got mesh?"

One of the smokers raised his hips and pulled out a small packet. He sat back down and threw it at him. He caught it, propped himself against a wall and hurriedly rolled up a smoke. He wasn't much of a smoker but being in Haven, he needed to mingle... unfortunately. I need to detox my lungs... He sealed the roll without a filter and set it alight. One drag and he slid down the wall content.

The group relaxed after this act. He was one of them. They watched him silently smoke away the roll. One who was standing turned to him and moved closer.

"You in for a dice?" he smirked, his voice was raspy. Heavy smoker, the blond thought.

"Stormin' the gates, are we?" he returned the smirk.

"This is the only hour we all can have a peek. Praxis' got some good shit in there, damn bastard."

A movement caught his attention. A small part of the fortress wall shifted and two lackeys appeared each carrying a heavily stuffed duffle bag. The entrance was too high to jump or climb, until he watched them drop into open skips. There he traced with his gaze the line of entry. He smiled inwardly.

"We got the shit fellas!" one of the two yelled, the enthusiasm in his voice meant only one thing: the drugs they found was high content. Panic slowly rooted itself inside his chest. He may have dressed and acted like these people but Hell's sure he wasn't one of them. The idea of sticking a rolled paper up his nose or a needle in his arm wasn't appealing.

"Halt! You are under arrest!" Just in time, he sighed with relief. They all scampered around in odd directions away from the cruisers. The fact that the guards caught them indicated something important – the end of said free hour. He took note of the time and intended to search through the fortress himself the following night.

It was easy to get in. The gang had created a secure passage to the storage room. Anything which was in the way: motion detectors, lasers, cameras, they were taken care of. He could only privately thank them in his heart. Who would've believed that one good way to enter the fortress was actually through a ventilation shaft? It had taken him quite a few nights to familiarize with the layout of the premises. He had a task to complete and he was determined to finish it.

Hacking the computer wasn't so tiring. He had been thought how to hack since he was a little kid. This small gift served him a good asset. He could've taken up any kind of job, but being a spy has its perks too. He was born in Haven and lived half his life in the city, yet his loyalty wasn't to this dreaded place.

He knew nothing of his parents. The only person he knew and cared about was his mentor. Sure the man was a bit… too paranoid all the time but he lived his life under his teaching and guidance. He couldn't really remember anything of his early childhood. He used to ask questions to which his mentor had no answers. He wanted to know about his parents – the man didn't know a thing. Was he an orphan then? Possibly. His mentor did the only thing he could do. He didn't know how to raise him but to teach him what he knows, he believed it was fundamental. He had asked for help to take care of the child. If the Baron ever knew, he'd have his head on a plate.

He could recall quite vaguely his mentor talk to unknown person. He never saw his face before but now, he knew the face quite well.

"I don't know how much of a fighter he'll be but I can teach him," his mentor told the man. The blue hologram said nothing, rather thought.

"Very well, teach him all you can, but he can not stay in Haven for so long. His home is here now. Under your guidance, I can sense he may be of good use," the man said matter-of-factly.

"Thank you Sire, I'll do all I can."

The pupil-less blue head nodded, "I will send you someone to help you raise the child. He will need to come home." His mentor nodded to him understandingly. From then on he lived most of his life in two places: Haven to be taught; home to live. The wealth of knowledge he learnt from his mentor served him well. Ah Vin, thanks so much for everything my friend.

He found the information he needed and printed both a hardcopy and softcopy of it. It wasn't much but that was all he was requested to bring back. He removed his presence and turned off the computer and took out a can from under his jacket. Shaking the can, he then sprayed the refrigerant over the computer and printer. After only a moment, the two devices were only slightly cold to the touch.

Footsteps in the hall outside caught his attention. It was time to bail out of there. Hopping onto the desk in the center of the room, he then jumped up into the shaft and closed the grid perfectly into place. The door of the office opened casually and a figure walked in quite in the wrong mood. The man slammed the door shut; a tight scowl on his old features. He straightened himself.

"They will never understand. Only with the glory of the Precursors can we defeat our enemy," the man's hand tightened so much around the scepter the young man thought he would break it in two. He sighed and turned around to search another office, leaving Count Veger trembling in his own rage.

He thought he was going to fall asleep. He laid there waiting for the redhead to leave the office for so long he was starting to believe he wasn't going to budge from behind his desk. Finally, the commander rose and left the office without uttering a word. Whether he was gone for five minutes or five hours, he needed to search that computer.

Erol had locked the door but left the computer on. He was only gone for a short while then. The young man quickly scampered out of the vent and scanned through the hard drive finding absolutely nothing. He wiped the sweat off his face in frustration. How can the commander of the Krimson Guard and literally keeper of the Fortress Prison not have any juicy information?

He was about to leave when he spotted something. A hidden archive. It was rooted in the server with only two accesses: this computer and another in the Palace. Baron Praxis and Erol were up to something. He hacked through it and sat there agape.

"They're mad," he couldn't believe what he was reading. It was impossible, irrational, immoral and downright insane. Four adjectives that would describe the two men perfectly. He printed everything, again hardcopy and softcopy. He logged out of the archive, destroyed his presence on the computer and sprayed the printer.

Taking a glance at his watch he realized that the commander was taking his time. Speak of the devil. Footsteps. He found his way into the vent and shut the grid. Erol walked into the room, a ghastly grin stretched on his face. He didn't even look at the desk. His priority was a card he kept locked in a file-cabinet. The blond quickly understood that that card was important and needed a copy of it.

He scampered out of the shaft and into the street, tears in his eyes. He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. He had all the information he needed and even took shots of the event. He was surprised with himself for enduring the whole episode. He couldn't leave the city though, not in such a state of shock and panic. He needed to be relaxed and focused.

He trawled his way through the city towards the water slums. There was one place he could stay where no one would bother him. An old Precursor shrine slept there. Many of the folk would visit it to pray and it wasn't uncommon to find someone asleep on the holy floor. Even the thought of disturbing these people in the shrine was a sin on their conscience.

He found the shrine and opened the door. An elderly couple lit two candles in front of the statue, bowed their heads and left, minding their own business and not even looking at him. The young man stared at the totem, staggered a few steps towards it and fell on his knees, tears overflowing down his face.

He prayed. He prayed he would never go through another similar experience again. He prayed for release. He prayed for justice. He prayed. He was never the religious type, but his heart ached so much he needed spiritual comfort. He prayed for salvation. He prayed for home.

Next morning he woke up at the smell of something sweet. He opened his eyes only to find an elderly and genuine smile. The old woman sat next to him and sat her bag on her lap. She then pulled out a small paper bag and offered it to him, still smiling. A sweet aroma waved to him from within the paper bag. He took the bag and was surprised it was so warm.

The elderly woman pulled out another similar bag and opened it. She gingerly tugged at something obviously too warm for her to hold. Finally, she brought up the object and wrapped the paper bag around it.

He blushed from under the hood and opened the bag. He pulled out the croissant and wrapped the bag around it. He didn't blame the old woman, the foodstuff was hot! Freshly baked. He watched her peel open a leg; steam escaped pouring out a scent. He broke open a leg from the croissant; hot yellow custard oozed out. He dipped the pastry in the custard and placed it in his mouth. He didn't realize he was starving and tried hard not the swallow the pastry whole otherwise it would scorch his mouth.

"I came here last night," she suddenly began, "I wished to ask the Precursors to help my niece. The young girl's pregnant. Labor's close, very close," she paused, releasing a sigh, "But… my niece can hold her own. She's a strong lass," she smiled at him. He swallowed the final scrap of food almost wishing he hadn't eaten. He suddenly counted the many days he had fasted without realizing it. Another paper bag was offered to him. He was already through half the warm pastry before she decided to continue

"It seems though, they already had their hands full with you. I had never seen anyone pray with so much heart. I must admit, you scared me when you fainted," So that's how I fell asleep, he thought ironically.

"I came in and when I saw you, at first I was surprised," she smiled, nibbling the pastry, "You don't really expect the young ones in here." She gazed at him, her eyes voicing a comfort he only wished he could take with him. He knew someone who would need it. The two paper bags laid neatly, empty in front of him. He sighed wondering, yet she continued.

"I sat right there, in the corner," she stated while pointing to the far left corner of the room, "and watched you pray. They heard you. I know They did. The Precursors would never keep you aside. I don't know what happened, but I'm sure it was for the best."

"It was a lesson to be learnt sooner or later," he replied solemnly. He could now understand that she didn't understand his prayers. She believed it was some kind of life lesson. He had to play along with that.

"If ever you need," she laid a shriveled hand on his, "You can talk to me if you wish to."

He smiled at her grateful, "Thank you, but something… happened… and," he stared at the Oracle, "I believe only They can answer me now."

She nodded calmly, "They have called you then," she reached out and took his chin in her free hand, "You are meant to do great things. I'm sure you'll do wondrously."

They shared a smile and prepared to leave the sanctuary. Gunfire? They both stared at the door wondering why would the Krimson Guard shoot in this place. The Water Slums were probably the safest place in the entire city. And also the best place to barter. He moved towards the door and pulled one of the doors just the slightest. He patted his jacket to make sure everything was still in place.

The guards were making a round. The place was swarming with them. Just my luck. They were checking houses, one by one, to search for any non-legal substances or even people. He didn't know if they would search the shrine but knowing the Krimson Guard… they'll storm through the sacred room nonetheless.

Some were rebelling against the armored men. The Underground, they're hiding here. He couldn't see what was actually going on. He could tell, though, that there was a struggle. The guards had their weapons cocked and ready to fire. The he saw it. A young man about his age wriggled his way into the open. He had only ran a few feet before the red projectile screeched right through him. He fell limp on the planks; the murky water below him stained.

The blond shielded his eyes. He shouldn't be surprised. These men, under the Baron's rule were simply heartless. He looked at the old woman still standing near the totem with worry. Her face was dull. She knew that the armored men wouldn't think twice to shoot them both. He was a punk and would gladly rid their city of these kids.

The young man peered out once more. Shit! They were moving towards the shrine.

"Young man," she whispered. He turned around and saw her smiling. "The Precursors need you alive," she pointed to a spot, Inside the totem? She's kidding right. The Precursors would have my head!

"Inspect the shrine."

"Ready your weapons men. Those Underground dogs love hiding in there."

He didn't need anymore convincing. He hurried towards the totem and prayed that he wouldn't be damned for doing this. Hopping over the candles, he knelt under the arc and squeezed himself inside the totem from where a light emitted.

"By Mar," he whispered, he was simply amazed at what he was surrounded with. A beautiful crystal encased within the totem. Crystallized Eco. He thought for a moment it was Light Eco, but then he realized that this was different. It was the Essence of Eco.

His amazement was cut short as he heard the doors burst open. I hope she's safe.

"May I help you gentlemen?" She was still in front of the Oracle. Probably she was pretending to pray.

There was a long silence, only interrupted with the stomping of boots.

"Move out. This place is clean. Good day madam."

He heard the doors close as violently as they were opened. He slipped out of the hollow he was in and moved towards the old woman.

"Thank you."

"It's alright lad," she smiled, "The law is back on normal patrol if I have seen correctly. My eyesight isn't what it used to be," she chuckled.

Her comment made his smile. Moving back to the double doors, he peered through. They're searching the other side of the slums. He sighed and turned towards her. She gave him a curtail nod.

"You should go. Remember to listen to Them lad, They're the only ones who can help you throughout your life."

It's not me the Precursors need to help. "I'll do what I can. Thank you."

He left her, knowing he would never see the old woman again.

Just a little further, he reached the port. Now the problems start. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and walked roughly yet quietly around the area towards the bridge connected closest to the transport. The folk here didn't even think of taking a second glance at him although the chances were they didn't even glance at him at all.

Keep moving, from under the hood he saw the red transport waiting there. He was only a few feet away from the vehicle till he spotted two guards on patrol moving towards him. I do not exist, I do not exist, I do not exist. They walked past him, only giving him a scowl.

"Kids these days," one of them commented. The lad slowed down as he reached the transporter, chanced a glance over his shoulder… and sighed with relief. He and the archive were safe. He fished for a device in his back pocket and pulled it out. It was black and no bigger than the palm of his hand. He pressed his thumb on the central piece of the device which was a dark shade of blue. Tiny whirring sounded as the device read the print on his thumb.

The transporter door automatically opened and he walked quickly inside, the door closing instantly behind him. He placed the device on the autopilot panel. The panel had inlaid programming to transport authorized personnel to the Digg. He didn't want to go to the Digg. The device started overriding the commands within the panel. New coordinates were being inputted. The device whirred and the panel obeyed. It, as always, accepted the new location to transport him.

He felt the transport rise and move off towards home: Spargus.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Been wanting to type this out for some time now. My version of Jak II with a lot of what ifs.

What if…

Not gonna say a word.

Just read… and a review would be nice, as always. I would like some well-structured critique please.

Thank yous, and I'll see you for chapter 2!