well, school and the same lack of motivation waylaid this chapter by several weeks, which is especially funny as this is the shortest one yet. but i'm finally going to submit it so it's all good.

again i had to make a couple changes to last chapter. for example, the underground hq is in the south not north slums and i added on to some of the dialogue.

a major problem has been figuring out how i'm going to handle jak's missions. although i haven't skipped any yet, there's no way in hell i'm going to write them all. i could barely stand writing the first few and can't wait to start skipping around in a chapter or two. i wanna get to the heavy, juicy, dramatic stuff! do tell me what you think of the missions so far.


Those Magic Changes

The Underground

The sky brightened almost imperceptibly as a faint azure glow peeked over buildings from the western horizon. Dawn was growing near and a certain ottsel yawned unceremoniously on his best friend's shoulder.

"Man, I've been pulling one too many all-nighters lately."

Jak nodded as he strode along a nearly empty street. Daxter raised a sleepy eyebrow at the elf. "Ya know, big guy, you nodding all the time makes me wonder if you're still a mute."

"No," Jak raised a hand to his neck, "it's just that my throat hurts. I'm not used to talking."

After a good twenty minutes of wandering the streets and dodging krimzon guards, the pair finally arrived at the alley meeting Kor's description. Heading round the corner, Jak found himself staring down a gun barrel at a buxom blonde.

She scowled menacingly at Jak, and he couldn't help but feel she really knew how to use the weapon in her hands—all the more reason to clobber the randy ottsel on his shoulder for whistling his approval.

The blonde's eyes narrowed to deadly slits and she circled a small finger around the trigger. Jak hastily explained, "We're looking for a guy named Torn." Stony silence in response, "Kor sent us… um,"

Fearing that his escape would now come to nothing, Jak's eyes widened in surprise when the blonde lowered her gun and stepped to the side. As if in response, a man Jak hadn't noticed before stepped out from the shadows. Sporting a full head of auburn dreadlocks and a face of tattoos similar to Errol's, the man glared at Jak with an icy, pale blue stare. He walked forward with a panther-like grace, arms crossed over an armored chest, giving the impression of a seasoned warrior who could take a foe down in the blink of an eye. He was a good head taller than Jak, causing the younger elf to straighten up.

"Are you Torn?" Again he was answered only with dead predawn quiet as the man eyed Jak suspiciously.

Daxter leaned forward. "Maybe this guy's a mute like you used to be."

The man said in a smoky voice, "New faces make me nervous." He poked Jak's chest with enough force to briefly buckle the channeler's knees. Smirking, he proceeded to saunter around Jak like a vulture circling carrion. "Word is you're out to join the fight for the city. You know, picking the wrong side could be," he leaned down and stuck is face right in Jak's, grinning devilishly, "unhealthy."

Jak glared right back, unperturbed. "We want to see The Shadow."

Torn gave a course chuckle and, turning his back on the pair, started walking away. "Not likely. If you want to join something, why don't you and your pet go join the circus?" Jak's eyes darkened and Daxter pointed, opening his mouth to retort, when Torn looked back over his shoulder, "Unless you got the fur for a really tough task."

Reaching behind his back, the Underground member pulled a crescent-shaped dagger into view. Daxter swallowed his comeback and cringed as Torn nonchalantly fingered a razor sharp edge. "Steal the Baron's banner from the top of the Ruined Tower in Dead Town and bring it back to me. Then maybe we'll talk." Deftly spinning the blade into the air and catching it, Torn turned on his heel and walked back into the shadows, dismissing the pair.


An enormous door in the city wall sat sunk into a sizable hole in the alley. Weeds popped up between cracks in the pavement and several small vines snaked their way up the door's metal surface. Huge locks coated in a grimy layer of rust barred any unauthorized passage to the outside.

"You sure this is it, Dax?" Jak eyed the rundown door apprehensively.

The ottsel nodded. "Yup, this is Dead Town." A chunk of rock broke off the rim of the hole and tumbled to the bottom with a crash, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Daxter said dryly, "It's a real popular locale."

"So I see." Jumping into the hole, Jak went and stood in front of the door. When nothing happened, he gave Daxter a meaningful sidelong glance.

The ottsel jumped down and with a flourish waved his arms and grandly shouted, "OPEN SESAME!" Again, nothing happened. Frustrated, Daxter dropped his little arms before walking up to the door and kicking it. Grasping his foot in pain, he hopped around when the door suddenly creaked to life. The rusty locks turned till the two gaps in them lined up and the door opened.

Jak stepped inside and a grumbling Daxter soon followed. The door behind them closed and another opened, revealing the outside. The female computer crackled to life.

"Exiting City."

By now the sun was peeking over the horizon, illuminating the terrain before them. Apparently, Dead Town was only as good as its entrance. Dilapidated buildings and crumbling walls stretched as far as the eye could see over a festering marsh. The brown muck of the swamp saturated the air with the stink of sulfur and, oddly enough, salt. One could constantly hear the sound of concrete rumbling and falling apart. The low angle of sunlight cast long dark shadows that seemed to deform the landscape further. Far off in the distance stood a lone tower looking just as decrepit as its surroundings.

Jak was nearly abreast of the two crumbling walls when a green blur flashed in the corner of his eye. Quickly sidestepping, Jak whirled around to face his opponent. At first he didn't see anything at all because said opponent was only two feet tall. Remarkably akin to some slimy enemy in Boggy Swamp, the amphibious creature was bug-eyed, big-mouthed, and, naturally, covered in slime. Jak raised an eyebrow at the creature, unimpressed, and easily dodged its long pink tongue. Not wanting to waste any more time with such small fry, Jak promptly kicked the creature into the nearest wall and nimbly hopped to the next island.

Jak was steadily realizing that Dead Town was something akin to a maze. Even though the tower was in plain sight, he found himself constantly circling around the small islands and crumbling walls in an effort to find a path that wasn't falling apart. Several degenerating walkways, a handful of frog-like enemies, and a good ten minutes later, he finally stood at the base of the tower.

The structure looked even worse up close and creaked and groaned louder than Samos' joints. Jak stared up at the tower suspiciously. "Why would the Baron put a banner at the top of a crumbling rock pile."

"Well," Daxter replied thoughtfully, a grin spreading across his orange face, "it sure is big and undoubtedly a pain in the ass to climb. He's probably just tryin' to advertise the size of his equipment."

Laughing, Jak began scaling the tower. After crossing a narrow bridge, half of which fell apart, he ran into several tiered platforms. Jak jumped onto each platform without a second thought. It wasn't until the last one that he realized his mistake.

As soon as Jak's feet landed, a gravelly cracking sounded below. Glancing at his boots, Jak saw cracks radiating out from where he stood. Looking around, he at first saw no way to escape when he noticed an old cross-beam sticking out of the floor above. Taking only a brief moment to coil up, Jak sprang into the air just as the platform fell away to the marsh below. Jak arched his body in an effort to reach the pole. For one stomach-dropping moment the elf hung suspended, gloved hands just inches from salvation. Just when Jak thought he would fall to his death below, he grasped the pole. Driven by adrenaline, he braced his arms and followed through, swinging in a wide circle around the pole, Daxter yelling in his ear. Preparing himself, Jak swung around one more time before letting go and soaring up to the ledge above. Performing a neat flip, the elf managed to land on both feet with only a small stumble.

Once again standing on solid ground, Jak allowed his tense muscles to relax and gave a great sigh of relief. Daxter, however, fell limp on his friend's shoulder and nearly slipped off.

Jak smiled at the flaccid ottsel, "Sorry, Dax, I'm a little rusty."

Daxter raised a wobbly finger. "Just tell me when we're back on the ground."

Continuing to wind up around the building's exterior, Jak encountered several more of the crumbling platforms with much less difficulty and Daxter started becoming used to riding the old shoulder again. Eventually, they were high enough that they could see over the ruined buildings to the east. The brown fading into blue signified the end of the marshlands and the beginning of an ocean. That explains the salt smell, Jak thought to himself. Before long, the pair found a way inside the tower. Up one more flight of steps and there was the banner.

Jak sauntered forward, and Daxter jumped off his shoulder. Grinning, Jak grabbed the banner and lifted it above his head triumphantly as Daxter began his old victory dance. However, their balloon of "glory days" celebration was promptly deflated when a series of ominous cracks sounded. With time enough only to glance at each other in horror, the floor caved in and the pair plummeted towards the marsh below.

Jak twisted till he was feet first—just in time to rebound off a fabric awning, immediately followed by a screaming Daxter. The awning sent the pair flying off in a huge arc towards a steel cable. Having seen it, Jak landed on the cable and slid down. He nearly lost his balance but quickly recovered by holding the banner out horizontally as a counterweight. Daxter was not so lucky and landed on the cable spread-eagled before sailing into thin air once more. Jak jumped off the cable, landing with ease. Daxter plunged to the ground screaming, landing flat on his stomach.

Jak looked up, shifting the banner in his hands, and smirked. Standing before him was Torn, and a very astounded Torn at that, Jak noted with pride. The two simultaneously turned to see the tower reduced to a pile of rubble. Torn raised his eyebrows and Daxter tried to peel his face off the ground.

"Yeah. I guess you guys are in."


Keira tossed her head irritably in a futile effort to keep her hair from flying in her face. The last thing she wanted was to go visit Krew.

Unfortunately, she needed the blob's connections to put up the front of a real garage—although he was completely unaware of her involvement with the Underground—as well as acquire the necessary items for a project of hers. Krew could supply her with the parts to rebuild the Rift Rider. Thanks to the time spent cannibalizing and reassembling the original two years ago, Keira had a number of detailed blueprints stored in her memory banks. Over the past year, she drew them up and determined the parts and equipment she needed.

It didn't matter how accustomed she became to life in Haven City. She wanted to get back home desperately, and it this point she figured she was going back alone. With no sign of her father, Jak, or Daxter in two years, Keira believed they had ended up in different times, different locations, or, worst case scenario, dead. Thinking of them only made her feel worse, as though there was a gaping hole in her heart. Consequently, she spent time honing her "out of sight, out of mind" abilities. She had hardly given any of them a thought in six months.

Arriving at her destination, Keira parked her zoomer and strode into the Hip Hog. She muttered a greeting to Sig, inhabiting his usual booth by the door. Quickly sweeping past the winking patrons up to the bar, Keira took a seat before Tess could even look up. Wanting to get business out of the way, she promptly asked the blonde, "Is Krew here?"

Nodding in immediate understanding, Tess gestured with a slender finger, pointing to a booth near the front. The green-clothed blimp hovered next to the booth, talking with some unseen customer inside. "He's wrapping up one of his generic, illegal transactions." The man stood up and after exchanging some last minute words headed out the door. Krew's fan fluttered excitedly as a sickly smile spread across his obese face.

Keira rolled her green eyes before yelling across the room, "Hey, Krew! I need to talk to you."

Looking up at the summons, Krew leered when he saw the aqua-haired elf and lazily floated over to the bar. "Keira, my pet, what can I do for you today?"

Trying not to imagine what perverse thoughts could be going on in that twisted little brain of his, Keira calmly faced him with a disinterested expression, leaning comfortably against the counter. "I'm going back into business."

Krew wheezed, "What kind of business?"

Keira raised an eyebrow, "The racing kind, of course."

"Now why would you want to get back into that awful line of work, ey?" Krew smiled, baring his handful of sharp, yellow teeth, "Surely you know from past experience how…unfulfilling it is."

Keira's voice took on a warning edge, "That's none of your concern. The only thing you need to worry yourself about is supplying me with the best parts possible."

Krew beamed even wider, "And what parts might those be, pet?"

Her hand twitched against the counter in a sudden desire to strangle the mound of lard. Instead, she collectedly reached into her pocket and handed him a folded piece of paper. Krew studied the paper with bright-eyed interest.

"That's just a preliminary list. I expect I'll be ordering more uncommon parts in the future, but that shouldn't be a problem for you."

"Hmm, you sound so very like Vivian, so very confident." Krew leered again, maliciously. "I don't suppose I'll hear of a warrant for your arrest in the future, ey?"

Keira's eyes narrowed. "Cut the shit, Krew. Just get me what I ask, when I ask."

Krew chuckled, an awful, throaty sound that caused every layer of stinking fat to jiggle. "Hoping to settle a few scores, ey?"

"Let's just say I'll be picking up where Viv left off."


As soon as the pair returned to the Underground headquarters, Torn sent them right back out to the Pumping Station to turn on the water to the slums. In the process, Torn revealed his ex status as a Krimzon Guard commander, a fact that put Jak on edge. Luckily, the Pumping Station provided a great way to take the edge off: a first encounter with metal heads.

Apparently, the metal heads were only swipers, one of the most basic species—lemmings as far as Jak was concerned. Their plan of attack was to blindly charge forward at any threat, thus making them very easy to kill with only a few well aimed kicks and punches. Jak wanted to face more intelligent foes. He wanted a challenge.

It scared him.

Daxter was really quite a perceptive person, even for all of his complaining, so his friend's dilemma was no secret. He saw beneath Jak's apathetic mask and witnessed a war of twisted pleasure and pure pain. He knew from experience that the cause was the dark eco injections. Gol and Maia had once been great scholars—good people—just like the sages, but their study of and exposure to dark eco ultimately deformed their bodies and minds until they were reduced to lunatics bent on dominating the world. Would Jak end up like them? Would the dark eco destroy who he truly was?

The Pumping Station consisted of ramps, pipes, and turbines wrapping around several towers of dirt and sand right on the ocean surrounded by a number of wind mills. All the palm trees, ferns, and sand briefly reminded Daxter of Sandover. He looked up at his friend's face and briefly saw the innocent countenance of a laughing seventeen-year-old, "borrowing" the fisherman's boat to sneak to Misty Island.

Daxter's musings were soon interrupted, as the pair had arrived at the valve. Glad for the distraction, the ottsel jumped off Jak's shoulder saying, "Ah, the valve! Allow me."

He walked up to the wheel handle and, grabbing one side, pulled up as hard his little body would allow. The valve didn't budge. Daxter leapt in front of the valve and gripped both sides of the wheel, straining till his arms felt as though they would burst. Still no change. Leaping back to the side, he wrapped both arms and legs around the handle and pushed, grinding his teeth and bracing his tail on the ground as he let loose a mighty, "Hrreeeeeeeee!"… at which point Jak hit the valve with an impatient fist, sending it and the ottsel spinning around in circles. The pipe above opened and Daxter along with a healthy amount of dust were sucked up inside.

Daxter yelled as he was sucked through the smelly darkness—stopping only when he collided with a bend in the pipe. After several more straightaways going up, down, and all around, Daxter crashed into the end of the pipe, helplessly smushed. Barely able to move at all, it was only with great effort that the ottsel called out in a small, heavily strained voice, "Jak…help," the pressure pushing against Daxter's backside increased, along with his discomfort, "Jak, help," the pressure grew so great that he could barely even squeak out, "Jak…please…help!" A rusty squealing sounded to his right and the wall in front of him disappeared. Slowly, his head slid out of the pipe into fresh air. After much wiggling, he managed to work his arms out and promptly placed them on the pipe to push himself the rest of the way when the pressure behind him increased tenfold. Daxter remained in the pipe only a second longer before he shot out followed by a spray of water.

After another squeal, the water stopped. Sensing an "I told you so" remark, Daxter raised a small hand. "Don't say it. Don't even chuckle!" He pointed at Jak before letting his arm fall back down. "Next time," he raised his head and glared at the grinning elf, "you turn the valve."

Once Daxter recovered, they headed back to HQ. The ottsel was once again struck by how shabby it looked.

Past a sliding wall featuring a hammer cracking the baron's emblem, through an automatic door, and down a narrow staircase, the Underground had nothing more to show than a wreck of a headquarters. Six sets of bunks served like a kind of hallway into the main body of the room. Stacked crates inhabited all available corners, and an enormous, rusty furnace burned to the left. Open pipes and beams criss-crossed over an unfinished ceiling. Aside from a ladder leading to the next floor, the back wall was almost entirely hidden by maps, posters, and blueprints. A similarly littered hexagonal table sat in a sunken section of floor in the middle of the area. Torn stood behind the table, studiously examining a piece of paper as the light fixture above flickered.

He looked up at their entrance, eyes gleaming excitedly, icy glare absent from its usual seat on his prominent brow. "The Slum's water is back on! I'd love to see the heads roll when the Baron finds out!" A malicious grin spread across Torn's face.

Jak couldn't help but feel irritated at the ex-KG's satisfaction. "Yeah, I'm sure he's losing lots of sleep over this armpit of the city." He jerked his head around the room, gesturing at its sorry state. "We've done what you asked. Now, when do we see The Shadow?"

Torn assumed his old scowl and promptly directed it at the younger elf's impetuosity. "When I say so, if I say so. But before I even think about it I want you to take care of an ammo dump we've IDd in the Fortress." As he spoke, Torn pointed at a schematic of the Fortress on the table. "Lots of krimzon guards, constant patrols. We know it's vulnerable, and the Underground needs you," with an authoritative swipe of his hand he sent Daxter sprawling on the other side of the table, "to blow up all the ammo you find inside. Get all of it, and we'll deal a body blow to the Baron." He tossed a krimzon guard security pass on the table.

After dusting himself off in as dignified a manner as possible, Daxter proceeded yelling his disapproval. "Now wait just one minute! You're sending us in, tough guy, so what's with this 'we'll deal a body blow' stuff?"

Just as Daxter was about to expound on his so-far ignored need for sustenance and sleep, Jak cut in, "That's fine. I want the Baron to know that it's me who's hurting him."


any good? i really don't like a lot of this chapter and once again feel like i suck at writing action scenes, at least when they're constantly happening. maybe i'm just not as good working with jak as i am with keira. who knows, but i figure it can only go up from here.

review or i'll sick my crocadog on you!