Chapter 10

Spargus's gate wasn't the ideal position for a battle with firearms. The two forces would be too close to each other, and the sloping dunes weren't much help either. The circumstances of the impending fight would surely lead to friendly fire or an all out melee due to the expanse of the desert and lack of cover.

There, Damas knew he had an advantage, though. His rugged Wastelanders were far beyond Errol's minions when it came to swords or hand-to-hand combat. Technology had made the Haveners lazy. And their fully body-encompassing armor would roast them alive in the desert heat.

The Spargain King raised his lengthy gun as a signal for the gate to be opened and his warriors silenced, tense and anxious to be let loose on a rampage.

Jak now stood a few Wastelanders to the left of the King. He gripped his blaster gun as the gate opened quickly and trained to see the red figures through the kicked up sand. Following suit of those around him, he pulled his red scarf up over his nose and mouth, as well as his goggles over his eyes to protect him from the abrasive sand.

As the dust cleared, the two armies stared at each other silently at first, making the forty-yard gap between them seem like only twenty feet. Then, in the monotonous way they were taught from day one in training, Errol's Krimzon Guard began to advance in a rectangular block position.

Being the skillful and experienced combatant that he was, he wasn't about to let the wall of about 1500 smash right into another wall of the same, which would only lead to gore and the piling of bodies on the front line. Instead, he aligned his warriors into a subtle wedge shape. Jak was assigned to the left wing of the wedge as they began their advance towards their adversary.


Hah, sorry about all the battle formation mumbo-jumbo...been watching too much on the battle tactics of the Greeks and Romans on the History Channel! I'm such a nerd :).


Keira stood behind the closed gate that led to the garage area, chewing her thumb nail in a nervous habit. This was supposed to be the stuff you only heard in stories, men going off to war, leaving their women at home alone. But this was because of Jak. She knew it. Errol's scary determination had brought him here.

It only had been a little more than a week since she had even met Jak, and yet there she was, fretting over his safety.

Her usually optimistic attitude edged into pessimism, compiling all the 'what-ifs' that could happen if the Spargain army failed somehow.


Jak whipped the butt of his blaster into the neck of an unsuspecting KG as the skirmish continued. His adrenaline was increasing and everything seemed to move in fast-forward motion. Already he was racking up the casualty count for the Guard, causing a hole to form in their left flank. The Krimzon carriers that had brought the KGs sat to the far right of the brawl, no doubt with the coward Errol hiding out within them.

If someone were to be watching the ensuing fight from above, they would see Jak, lusting for a rematch against his former torturer, making a dead-on line for the carriers through the gore.

Directly in front of the gates and gaining headway in the middle of the swarming KGs were Damas and his warriors. The Krimzon Guards were tiring in their heavy and no doubt scorching-hot armor in the desert heat and steadily giving the upper hand to the Wasteland King.

Meanwhile, Jak continued to separate himself from the Wastelanders, still heading for the carriers. He was slowly giving way to the darker side of his mind, though biding its time. Although, his vengefulness didn't prevent him from hacking down a few unskillful drones and having some fun on the way there.


Errol sat in the largest carrier at the top of a dune and watched the hopeless battle through the darkly tinted windows. His plan of entering the battle when they had taken out some of Spargus's army had gone to hell. As his eyes glanced over the fight, he saw it; the half-beast, half-elf figure that was rapidly making its way towards him.

For a moment, his overconfident ego told him his own prowess in battle far surpassed the rogue's, and chuckled. But, as the creature came closer, the black eyes cut a shade of doubt in his mind.

"Back to Haven," Errol ordered the driver.

"But, Commander, the rest of the army-" the driver began to protest about leaving the others behind.

"Now." Errol glared and the driver pushed the ignition button to start the engine.

A sputtering of the motor followed by the hiss of steam erupted from the engine.

"Fuck." Errol cursed aloud, looking out the window and was surprised to no longer be to able to see Jak. A moment later, his search ended when he felt an excruciating pain enter his ankle. Looking down, he saw five gleaming claws that had been forced through the metal door where he sat by and continued on an inch into his foot.

Earsplitting sounds of metal being scratched followed after the claws were retracted from Errol's flesh as the creature that was Jak began ripping the automatic door of the carrier off of its hinges.

Terrified, Errol fired a random shot with his pistol that missed Jak's shoulder by an inch. Jak lunged at the surprised Commander and pinned him on his back on the seat, holding down Errol's shoulders. With his foot, Jak sent the gun flying as he positioned himself in an animalistic crouch on the spineless torturer. Eyes wide with fear, all Errol could do was stare into the deathly black glare of the eyes of the animal he had mutated into creation.

"You did this to me," Jak growled in a barely coherent voice.

He sat over him for a moment, contemplating on what he wanted to do next. He wanted so much for Errol to suffer like he had, but he had no means with which to complete his torturous dreams.

Instead, he made do with what he had; his hands. Jak punched his talon-like fingertips into Errol's chest cavity, puncturing both lungs as well as his ruthless heart. The dying man coughed and struggled weakly as he gasped for air.

Soon enough, Errol's head flopped to one side and Jak's bloody claws shrunk back to their normal length. He had done it; fulfilled his revenge. Now she was safe. No more running.