wow. it's been nine whole months since i last submitted a chapter. that's gotta be some kind of record for almost abandoning a story and then coming back. (sigh)

well, i'm coming back with a vengeance. i've had most of this chapter written since september, but i just lost interest for awhile, which is funny because i've been very excited about the second half of this chapter. now, months later, i go and write five pages in one night and finish it up. college does weird things to the creative flow, let me tell you.

anyway, i hope the wait is worth it and that you all enjoy the latest installment! it's time for me to really start putting my own twist on things!

Those Magic Changes

Attack

Jak strolled into Onin's tent, remarkably irritable. Rather than waiting for the guards to finish their sweep, he had stayed crammed in the hidden compartment for only five minutes, thinking that would be long enough for the guards' very thorough search to reach the other side of the stadium. However, Jak ran into a search party of two, returning to double-check Axle's Garage—not that he minded. Taking out krimzon guards always made him wilder, angrier, and more elated.

But he couldn't get full satisfaction. A quiet, nagging voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the elf currently above the garage, and how she would likely find it unpleasant if two metal-clad corpses were waiting just outside the big sliding doors. He didn't kill either of the guards, merely incapacitated them. At the very least he had the gratification of knowing Errol would not be too pleased.

Jak was left with the whole trip to the bazaar to ponder what the events inside Axle's Garage meant, although it was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to put Keira as far from his thoughts as possible, but her behavior made it even more difficult to do so. First, she was collected and nearly as flirty as the old days; second, she was incredibly jealous; third, she was furious. He didn't know what to think.

And so, Jak was so tetchy upon arriving at Onin's tent he missed whatever greeting was given and had to force his mind into focus to catch the Shadow's next words. "The birdbrain and I were just talking about you, Jak." Pecker cast the little, green man an indignant glare. "Onin is very proud of what you did."

Jak placed his hands on his hips, confused. "What I did?"

Pecker swept his colorful wings in grand gestures. "What you did…what you'll do…it's all the same."

Daxter, unable to contain himself, yelled, "Will you stop with the deja voodoo stuff?! It's creepy!"

The ancient woman's hands began twirling and clapping, emitting sparkles of blue light. Samos continued as though the ottsel's complaints were merely the whine of an errant gust of wind, "Onin says you must find the Tomb of Mar."

Pecker cut in, "Even now, Baron Praxis seeks the tomb, but only—RRRAWRK—the one true heir of Mar can open the tomb's seal."

"We believe the kid is the key." Samos provided.

"The prophecies say the true heir of Mar must face the ancient oracle. He alone must circumvent the cunning tests of manhood; he alone must wield the Precursor Stone, thereby unleashing th—geeze Louise, fossil lady! Stop with the snooty, mystic talk already!" Pecker leaned over the edge of the basket on Onin's head, meeting her milky eyes with an upside down glower. "You know that it hurts my lips!"

Jak, anxious to get to the point, asked, "Why is Mar's Tomb so important?"

Pecker sat back up in his basket perch. "The fabled Precursor Stone is rumored to sleep within the tomb, stupid!" The monkey bird's wings indicated his feathered chest. "I added the stupid part." His aside earned scowls from both Jak and Daxter, but he continued unphased, "The Precursor Stone contains vast eco energies. It can be used for great good or…" Pecker ominously fluttered his primary feathers as though they were fingers, "great eeeevil! I just love saying that last part!"

He grinned gleefully, and Samos took the opportunity to say, "The Baron wants the Precursor Stone for himself to rule the world. But he is playing with forces he does not understand." Daxter failed to stifle a mighty yawn.

Jak mulled the idea over. Things were getting way more complicated than he ever conceived they would, but the only one available option was to do what they. Otherwise, he wouldn't get anywhere. "Okay, Pecker, so how do I get this Precursor Stone?"

Before the monkey bird could answer, Samos responded, "First, you must go to the dig and find the Lurker Totem. Onin and I have learned a piece to the Seal of Mar is contained within its ancient carvings. You must find all three pieces of the seal to open Mar's Gate into the canyon."

Jak raised his eyebrows at the last statement. 'Mar's gate into the canyon?' He chose not to ask, opting for a speedy trip to the dig instead. He ducked out of Onin's tent, impatient to distract his wandering mind with physical challenge.

Thankfully, the dig proved quite an effective diversion. Jak remained totally ensconced in clearing open lava, locating switches, and dismembering metal heads. He only had mental capacity enough to dwell on the task at hand, allowing him to remain blissfully thoughtless of the many happenings in his life.

However, the time passed all too quickly. The Lurker Totem loomed above Jak, wooden and primitive. Its four faces consisted of simple shapes. Circles for eyes, squares for noses—the Totem had been constructed from a minimalist perspective, utilizing only the plainest of line and color to create a surprisingly powerful and imposing sculpture, much like a mountain white with snow.

Jak glanced expectantly at Daxter. The ottsel lifted his left foot and right arm, prepared to spring into action. "I'm on it!" Then he paused, considering, before lowering said appendages and holding up his hands defensively. "Wait a minute! I think this time you should go get the thing!"

Jak ran his gaze up the length of the Lurker Totem, unhappy with the idea.

"I can't believe we're listening to anything that purple fleabag has to say!" Daxter exclaimed for the tenth time. Jak clenched his jaw, groping for some semblance of patience.

"I don't like it either, but if we can laugh in Praxis' face when we get the Precursor Stone before he does then I have no problem looking around for these seal pieces." Jak sidestepped, narrowly avoiding running into a hefty man ambling along the small walkways of the Water Slums.

Daxter glared at his friend, not interested in seeing reason. "Who cares about laughing! I just wanna take a break, maybe go rent a bachelor pad somewhere—"

"Good luck with that." Jak cut him off, his voice sounding grim. "It's not like we can just take off and visit Rock Village for a breather anymore."

"Well I still say we should just head back to HQ and let it go. Listening to a lurker—"

"Is exactly what we're going to do!" Jak tried to lower his voice, reigning himself back under control. "…We need any leads we can get, so quit whining and let's get this over with."

The Water Slums had a particularly distasteful stink to them today, causing both elf and ottsel to wrinkle their noses. The further into the maze of shanties and walkways they penetrated, the worse the air smelled. Not that such a fact was surprising. The Water Slums were the worst place one could live in Haven City. The corrugated tin roof homes were packed closer together than in any other neighborhood, stuffing people into close quarters like sardines into a can. With no better way to dispose of it, trash was dumped into the stagnant waters and stewed under the hot sun into a rancid gumbo of refuse. Needless to say, the Water Slums always smelled formidable.

A narrow gap between the homes revealed a flat metal plain. They were nearly to the enormous wall surrounding the city. Jak turned a corner on the crumbling walkway and arrived at a shack tucked almost all the way into the southeast corner. He examined the structure of warped metal alloy, rotting wood, and broken glass. Evidently, it had been abandoned for quite some time—but that didn't catch his attention as much as the glowing object stuck in the door.

The comm. unit buzzed to life and floated out of Jak's pack. Brutter's guttural voice sputtered out of the tiny speaker, excited. "That is it! Piece of seal, yes? Nice and shiny, huh? All yours!" The lurker paused, and then exclaimed, "Uh oh! I think red troopers approaching!"

Jak turned around as a series of whirs sounded. Several KG transports descended on the rickety walkways surrounding the elf, hovering just high enough to allow hordes of red armored soldiers troops to leap out.

Jak muttered, "Damn lurkers and their ultra sensitive hearing."

Daxter's large eyes widened. "You gotta be kidding me!" Beneath his usual grating timbre, the ottsel's voice was small and tremulous.

Jak growled, "Have they been following us, or was this just a trap?"

"Either way they sure planned well. Look!" Daxter pointed at a spot behind a wooden column supporting the walkway. A robotic gun darted across the water, its sizable twin barrels glinting in the sunlight filtering through the planks above. "If we take a swim we'll get a round of breathing holes blown in our hides."

Jak glared at a nearing group of krimzon guards. "Forcing us to take the long way out are you?"

He rushed the nearest guard and, whipping his morph gun from its holster in a blurred arc of silver, crushed the right side of his face in. Jak nimbly leapt over the red armored soldier, now in a crumpled heap on the boardwalk, and ran through ten more, knocking each one into the scummy water below where the robotic gun lay in wait. Guards jumped out of a KG transport in a never ending stream directly in the pair's path, and Jak put on a fresh burst of speed. Fighting all the guards in such close quarters would require far more effort than Jak was willing to give at the moment. With any luck, he might be able to employ a hit and run strategy.

Barreling through the guards with such force that most were pushed over the edge before they had time to react, Jak began to think his quick-finish plan would work when a suspicious whir and clank threaded through the din of fighting. The elf looked up quickly enough to see a gun mounted on the base of the KG transport lock onto him. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding a laser hot grilling, but the gun followed Jak and forced him further back towards the shack. A few feet more and he was out of range but far from being out of danger. The KG transports would box him in and force him to fight most of the guards. If all went in the Baron's favor, the constant stream of guards would wear Jak down.

Snarling, Jak let loose a frenzy of bullets. After killing all but one of the red-armored soldiers, the elf was abruptly cut off, his body seized in blue violence not dissimilar to dark eco rays. Sheer willpower combined with warrior instincts clamped down on his mind and extended to his right hand, barely stopping him from losing all control and dropping his morph gun. A scant, few seconds later, the currents of electricity stopped. Jak nearly collapsed, but not before he shot the responsible guard in the head. The Baron's lackey fell onto the creaky boards, twitching, his life so abruptly cut off he still held his taser rifle in a death grip.

With a deepening whoosh, the KG transport launched out of its hover and rose up through the cramped roofs of the Water Slums. By now, most of the KG transports had followed suit and left the area.

Realizing this was his chance, Jak gulped in a lung-full of air and forced his muscles back into action. Although he refused to allow his body to cease functioning, his body refused to be pushed into anything better than a lop-sided run. Now making only slow progress, Jak had to rely on his marksmanship if he was going to make it out of the Baron's trap. His survival instincts kicking in, Jak fought like a demon. Time no longer existed as he shot his way through dozens of armed soldiers. Using the vulcan fury mod, he mowed down so many guards he soon lost count. After advancing perhaps a third of the way out of the Water Slums, another squad of KG transports descended from the smoggy skies above and poured out a fresh round of enemies. Daxter yelled something, but Jak didn't hear it. His entire being was focused on escaping intact. The world was a muffled cacophony of guns banging, guards yelling, and water splashing. He hardly noticed when a third wave of KG transports showed up. He just kept killing, not realizing his own throat was growing hoarse from letting loose primal battle cries. When Jak stepped onto pavement an eternity later, the change of scenery was a shock to his system. He nearly plugged some on looking civilians before it sunk in that the remaining guards were behind him. With nary a thought, Jak's legs kicked into high gear and ran down the street and around the corner. He leapt up and, knocking the owner out of the driver's seat, hijacked a fast zoomer and sped like a madman back to HQ.

"…another two safe houses rooted out, six new recruits dead in a sting operation, and five turned in by followers of the Baron. KG patrols have doubled, and any mention of Mar's Tomb results in interrogation and imprisonment." Torn ruffled the sheaf of papers grasped in his large hands, his face grim.

Samos heaved a heavy sigh. The ex-KG commander's weekly reports were appearing more hopeless as time went by. The Underground was on the verge of floundering, and for what? An ancient stone that, in the Baron's hands, would destroy them all anyway.

The Shadow glanced around his small office, not really seeing anything his eyes fell upon. Memories of the beginning floated to the surface of his tired mind. Back then, the Underground was larger. As a newer organization, it had undergone fewer trials and therefore suffered fewer failures, garnering a reputation as a solid investment. The citizens of Haven City had a new vessel to pour their outrage into, and the relief of throwing off the old despair gave fresh hope. Yet as time went by the Underground did not triumph time and time again but merely scraped by. And so the roster steadily shrank until a scant fifty members were left.

But then Jak showed up. "If there isn't a change soon, our little resistance effort will disintegrate and disappear."

Torn bowed his head slightly, fully aware of the dangerous situation they were in.

Samos looked back up at Torn, folding his hands on his small desk. He asked, his voice thick with concern, "Is there any good news to report."

"Some," the tall elf replied, "We have three new recruits this week, two of which show some real potential, and we have successfully averted the attack on the South Town safe house, destroyed the metal head infestation in Haven Forest, and acquired the first two seal pieces."

The Shadow's drooping green ears perked up, interested. "The first two seal pieces?" Samos had already heard about most of what Torn had to report in real time. Torn merely gave the official version each week. But this was something the Shadow had not heard yet.

"Brutter gave Jak the coordinates of the second piece. It was located in the east end of the Water Slums, likely planted as bait."

"Bait you say?" Samos asked, raising a dark green eyebrow.

"Apparently, Jak was ambushed by anywhere from sixty to one hundred krimzon guards."

The older elf's eyes widened. "How many guards?" Samos' jaw remained slack, his grin lips slightly parted in astonishment.

"Based on the approximate number of transports, I'd say about two platoons—up to one hundred soldiers."

Samos stared at his significantly taller tactician. "And Jak's condition?"

Torn nodded. "Aside from exhaustion he seems in top shape."

"Such skill…" Samos murmured, "It seems the Baron underestimated the boy if he was expecting a successful ambush."

The old man was quiet for a moment, his brow knitted together in thought. "Is there anyone else among our recruits capable of escaping such a situation?"

Torn's lower lip pushed up on the left, transforming his cool expression into one of disdain. Even though he knew it was a useless endeavor, he mentally ran over his personal list of the Underground's most accomplished members. He quietly responded, "Based on my observation, no." He loathed acknowledging Jak's skills.

The Shadow nodded, his look still one of concentration. "Do we have any idea what happened to him in the Baron's fortress?"

Torn shook his head. "The Baron had many top secret 'projects' that I was never aware of or had the clearance to learn about. I asked Ashelin to look into it. The most promising lead she found is the 'Dark Warrior Program,' but even she doesn't have the authorization to learn anything useful."

Samos opened up one of the many folders scattered on his desk. After rifling through it, he pulled out a crinkled piece of paper; it was Jak's wanted poster… at least according to Kor it was. An ice cold shiver always traveled down Samos' spine when he looked at the blood spattered beast in the photo. He briefly read over the information for the dozenth time as though it would provide any answers.

Prisoner: 51007

Offenses: Breaking out of prison, resisting arrest, assault, treason, seditious conduct, advocating rebellion, 38 counts of murder.

Samos glanced at the photo again, quite sure that the body count at the bottom of the page had tripled by now. He said, "If only someone in addition Kor had seen this…thing in action, we might be able to learn something of value." Samos placed the wanted poster back in the folder and tossed it onto his desk. He sighed and looked back up at Torn. "Why don't we just ask Jak about it?"

"That wouldn't do any good," Torn replied, "When I debriefed Keira about the Haven Forest mission, she mentioned that it ended in an argument where she asked him about what happened during his incarceration. He refused to tell her anything."

"And?" Samos prompted.

Torn frowned slightly. "And that's it."

Samos stared at his tactician, incredulous. "That's all she told you about the argument?" Torn nodded. "Well why didn't you grill her for more details? What would've started such an altercation? That might've been useful information!"

"I had to grill her just to get that little tidbit." Torn's gravelly voice sounded impatient. "She might have gotten away with never telling me if she and Jak had complied with protocol and come in to report as soon as their mission was done. She was extremely reluctant to talk about it, probably because she knew him before any of this happened."

As he spoke Torn's voice softened, revealing a deep affection and concern for the girl. Samos suppressed a smile, unsurprised. In most cases Torn genuinely cared for the welfare of those under his wing, a sign of a good leader. As such, the ex-KG commander had a talent for inspiring loyalty. The majority of the Underground recruits respected and trusted him. Jak once again proved the exception to the rule.

Samos had never seen Jak and Keira at the same time, yet there was something about the two of them. He knew Keira wasn't a native of Haven City, and he had a feeling Jak wasn't either. They had evidently grown up together. While both of them had always been hardened fighters for the length of their acquaintance, Samos was certain that they were quite the opposite before. There was a certain spark in their eyes, as of raw pain and innocence lost, very much unlike the dullness in the gazes of the oppressed. Jak and Keira seemed to have had everything they held dear taken away in recent years. It gave the old man an odd sense of déjà vu, as though he had seen the pair lose everything before or would again in the future. But then he would shake the feeling off, saying to himself that he was getting old, that he had seen hundreds of people in similar situations.

Torn's comm. unit buzzed to life and floated into view. The connection crackled, and then a husky woman's voice spoke.

"Torn. Ashelin here."

Samos' eyes darted to the tactician's face fast enough to see his heart jump into his throat, forcing him to swallow before responding, "What is it." His normally rough voice revealed a softer edge, betraying his feelings further. Samos grinned under his thick mustache as the comm. unit made lazy circles around Torn's head.

Ashelin quickly said, her tone hushed, "I caught wind of some disturbing information. Some sycophant of a lieutenant learned the location of Underground HQ. He thinks the Baron doesn't already know, and he must be hoping to score a juicy promotion because you've got fifty krimzon guards headed your way."

Samos' smile faded, his skin blanching to a paler green. Torn's icy blue eyes widened. "How long have we got?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Maybe five minutes."

Torn paused, the racing calculations of his mind written all over his tattooed face. "Thanks for the heads up. Over and out."

The comm. unit crackled again and flew back into its home pocket. Torn slowly said, "It's a light night. There are no more than ten people in HQ."

The pair stared at each other for a moment as the weight of their predicament sank in.

The Shadow stood up and, his voice commanding, said in a loud, clear voice, "Wake everyone up. We'll assemble in the outer sanctum. Radio any nearby operatives that may be able to snipe off some of the guards. Get someone up in the bird's nest stat!"

Torn nodded and left the small office, already yelling a wake up call.

Samos closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and briskly strode toward the door.

Jak's mood went south as soon as he woke up to Torn's voice barking out of his comm. unit to get his blonde ass downstairs. His mood failed to improve upon entering HQ's initial room, crowded close to maximum capacity with a mere fourteen people in it. He really started feeling sour when not thirty seconds later a pair of light feet padded down the entry steps and Keira entered the already crowded room. He took consolation in that she looked as confused at finding the small room full of bodies as he felt.

Daxter yawned, rubbing his eye with a small fist. "What the hell is going on around here?"

"You got me." Jak said, as he watched Keira spot Tess and walk over to ask the same question Daxter did.

"All right everyone, listen up!" Torn's voice grated over the group, rendering the room silent.

The Shadow stepped around the map table, his voice barking, "There's no time for some big speech, so I'll come right out with it. We've got a full platoon of krimzon guards coming for our asses and fifteen people to deal with it. Rage, Tess; I want you up in the bird's nest. Kreg, Lil, Luke, Tiv; take the outer sanctum and catch them coming down the stairs. Everyone else, head to the training facility. Any guards that break through the outer sanctum will have to contend with the hallway, so we have a bottleneck to take advantage of. You have three and a half minutes. Get armed and get to your positions now!"

The room exploded into activity and talk. Everyone filed inside the hidden door, paid a visit to the armory, and then scattered to their various positions around HQ.

Keira couldn't help but feel how lousy her timing was. She planned to pay a quick visit to HQ to pick up some new weapon mods from Tess and give Torn an official briefing of her progress with Errol—which was sadly very little. She was able to get any information she wanted except for the meat of the matter, the point of wrangling with him in the first place: Mar's Tomb. Errol had learned too well how to hold on to his tongue around a pretty face.

And now she had the current situation to add to her list of setbacks for the week.

"I can't believe this is happening." She said in a low voice to Gabe, "Why now, when we're completely unprepared?" She glanced around the training facility. There were nine present, including herself. Even the Shadow was armed and ready to fight alongside them.

The weathered warrior sitting to her right chuckled, his white bandages flashing in the low light. "You kidding? This is the way it always works for the good guys." Despite his crinkly grin, Keira couldn't mask her concern for Gabe. He had been with the Underground since the beginning and was venerated among all its members as one of the top dogs. But recent events were not so kind on the older elf. He had been enjoying a nightcap at a bar when the KG bust in and decided to terrorize the patrons. Gabe's innate sense of justice gave him the only option of standing up to the guards, but before he could say so much as a word one of the guards stunned him into stupefied submission with a taser rifle. A good five minute four against one beating later, he was lying half dead in the alley.

That was six days ago. Keira was shocked to see the man up and out of the infirmary. He could barely move by himself and he was practically mummified in bandages. "You shouldn't be fighting, Gabe. Why are you even up?"

The older elf chuckled again. "Duty calls, girly. I refuse to go down without a fight." He shifted the gun in his arms in an effort to situate his cast more comfortably.

Keira's eyes turned down to the floor, glum.

"You know," he said, "Just because the bad guys get the upper hand, it doesn't necessarily mean we'll bite the bullet."

"Why's that?"

"Easy," his soft voice sounded cheerful, "It all depends on whether we're in a comedy or a tragedy."

Jak studied Keira's bemused expression, wondering what she and Gabe were talking about. He sat on the opposite wall of the trailing facility with Daxter, waiting just like everyone else. Despite himself, watching Keira was the most entertaining thing he could think to do in the whisper filled silence. Daxter was taking the opportunity to snore with impressive force.

Jak blinked when a shadow fell over his face and looked up, irritated, at a boy's face he didn't recognize.

"Jak, right?" Said elf raised a green brow and slowly nodded. The boy, no older than seventeen, sat down next to him with plucky ease and extended a gloved hand. "My name's Nic."

Jak, disarmed by having such an ordinary courtesy extended to him, took the boy's enthusiastic hand in a shake.

"Uh…" Jak's brow furrowed as he tried to remember what passed for small talk, "I don't think I've seen you around before." He felt like an idiot.

"That's because I'm new." Nic replied, his voice jubilant despite his hushed tone. Jak found the boy's mood irksome.

"Well, Nic," the name felt odd on his tongue, "You seem pretty happy for an inexperienced fighter in a grim situation."

Nic's smile faltered slightly. "I guess I'm trying not to think too much about it since it scares me shitless."

"Mmnh—s'my horsey!" Daxter mumbled as he rolled over and off Jak's shoulder pad and into Nic's lap. He blinked, confused and sleepy.

Nic stared down at the orange furball, startled. "What's that, and why does it talk?"

"That's Daxter, and I have no idea why he talks."

"Hey!" the ottsel sat halfway up on Nic's lap, stabbing an indignant finger in Jak's direction, "I had to do enough talking for the both of us for seventeen years, so kiss my pantsless ass!" His words were slurred with sleep and far from intimidating.

Nic glanced at Jak, his expression pained. "Sounds like him talking for one person is more than enough."

Daxter made a face and Jak grinned. He was beginning to like this Nic.

"So," Jak prompted, "how did you know my name?"

Nic gave Jak an incredulous look, "How couldn't I? You're famous!"

"I am?"

"Yeah," Nic was obviously surprised Jak didn't know, "Everyone in the Underground knows your name, and most of the East Siders know your face. You can get in and out of the palace alive. You race like a demon. You're strong and fast, and you can take on a hundred KG at once. You're like the ultimate freedom fighter!" His voice grew more vehement as he spoke, and a number of heads turned their way.

Jak stared at Nic, dumbfounded. The ultimate freedom fighter? He glanced at Daxter, eyes wide. The ottsel provided, "He's saying you're a hero."

…A hero? But Jak was no hero. Like hell he was. None of his "amazing deeds" were done for the benefit of others. He killed in cold blood. He was consumed by his own hate. He lived only for revenge.

He looked back at Nic and was taken aback by the admiration shining out the younger elf's face.

Suddenly all whispering ceased. A muffled shot reverberated through the walls. Then another, and another. Tess and Rage were sniping off soldiers.

The KG had arrived.

The room was dead quiet as everyone waited. Jak glanced at Nic. The boy's expression was nervous, fearful. Out of a sudden feeling of brotherly protectiveness, Jak reached over and placed a large and comforting hand on Nic's shoulder. He smiled appreciatively.

Thudding footsteps indicated that the KG had entered the outer sanctum. A string of shots sounded and then ceased. All four of the members outside were evidently dead.

Jak pictured the scene of bedlam which he could only hear; guards pouring into the small and shabby room, stepping over the still warm bodies, some ransacking, others climbing up the ladder, and more searching for any hidden doors.

Several minutes passed and more shots rang out above. With any luck it was a soldier on the receiving end and not Tess or Rage.

The sound of a buzz saw split the air. Somehow, the guards had located the door.

"Prepare yourselves." Samos' voiced grated out from beneath the shriek of the saw as it met with plaster encased metal of the sliding wall. Everyone stood up and lifted their weapons into a ready position.

The sawing continued for what seemed like years and abruptly stopped. The destroyed wall crashed to the ground, and plated boots rapidly clanked as they charged over.

Jak tensed and launched himself towards the hallway. Two others followed suit. He strafed in front of the opening and fired, aiming for as many skulls as he could see, and the others fired as well. Then several bullets flew out of the hallway and into the leg of one of the chargers. He crumpled to his knees, and a finishing shot to the head sent him the rest of the way down.

Jak frowned. He had only heard one shot, but multiple bullets rocketed out of the hallway. Quickly turning, Jak strafed back and fired again. And this time he saw a guard lift a glowing shield into place, causing the bullet to ricochet back towards Jak. He ducked and fired again, but he netted the same result and was forced to jump out of the way. And then the guards entered the training facility.

Jak stared as they poured in. Twenty entered with more coming, like the entire platoon was safe and whole. All carried the strange shields, which glowed yellow with eco.

The next ten seconds passed both remarkably fast and incredibly slow. Jak was hypersensitive, able to see every detail. The guards fired on the few members present. Most dodged, returned fire, and then jumped out of the way of their own bullets. One member went down, then another. Keira rolled, managing to get a shot in where no one held a shield. The Shadow did the same. Two guards fell to the ground. Torn took a bullet in the shoulder. Nic charged and then flopped backwards like a doll, a hole ripped through his forehead.

Jak stared down at the new recruit's lifeless body as chaos raged around him. An expression of wide-eyed terror was forever frozen on his face, blood oozing down to puddle on the floor.

And then all Jak could see turned red.

It was only a matter of seconds before everyone became violently aware of the demon in the room. The KG turned all their firepower on the beast, and the five Underground members still alive looked on in amazed horror.

Torn and Samos could hardly believe that they were seeing the monster from the wanted poster. Keira could hardly believe that Jak was the monster. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't look away. She watched as the pale-skinned demon ripped through shield and armor and flesh with long black claws. He moved so fast his talons were tearing apart the next body before the spurting blood from the previous one could splatter the ground. Dark eco crackled through the air like lightning, and he snarled ecstatically, a bone-chilling sound—he was enjoying it.

Moments later, the fiftieth body hit the ground with a sickening thud. The monster smiled, a violet ray traveling through his white hair and around a black horn. He was drenched in red.

His pitch black eyes raked around the room, surveying the terrified rebels pressed up against its walls. They all trembled, and his dark gaze fixated on Gabe, leaning heavily against some stacked boxes. Hunched and coiled like a spring, he began ever so slowly to advance on the injured man. A bizarre gurgling sound bubbled from the monster's throat. He was laughing.

Keira broke through the paralyzing chains of fear rooting her to the spot and stepped in front of the older elf. The monster's smile curled ever higher up his blanched cheeks.

She took in a shaky breath and said in the strongest, clearest voice she could muster, "Stop it, Jak."

He paused at the sound of the name, his smile disappearing.

She continued, her voice louder, "Change back. You don't want to do this." He growled threateningly and resumed his advance.

Scampering up, Daxter scrambled onto his shoulder, yelling, "Stop, Jak! That's Keira!" He ignored the ottsel, continuing forward.

She couldn't look away from his eyes. They were bottomless, soulless. They sucked her in like a dark vortex. "This isn't you, Jak." He snarled at the name. "You wouldn't kill a defenseless person." He grew closer, and Torn yelled for her to get away.

Daxter grabbed a small fistful of hair. "You'd never forgive yourself, Jak! Don't kill Keira!" With a swift motion, he knocked the ottsel from his shoulder as Tess and Rage ran into the room and froze just as quickly.

Keira took a futile step back as he loomed over her, a wickedly clawed hand rising to strike. "Jak—" Her voice broke, and he once again paused at the name.

A pistol discharged and acrid smoke rose from a fresh hole in the floor at the monster's feet. Torn stood, gun at the ready, icy fury emanating from his pale eyes. The beast lunged at the ex-KG commander. Keira threw herself after him, screaming, "NO, JAK!!"

With lightning speed he whipped around, his arm slashing down, and then abruptly stopped.

Jak stared at Keira. Her large green eyes stared back, stunned. Her small hand gripped her right right arm as copious amounts of blood seeped from a large, deep, vicious laceration.

Jak then stared at his own hand, drenched in the same blood, his fingers still curled in a clawing strike.

Eyes swiveling, he saw the pile of red armored bodies lying in a sea of red that covered the entire training facility.

He stared again at Keira. He understood why she looked shocked and how her arm was injured.

Jak slowly turned and carefully picked his way among the mangled corpses, heading towards the hallway. He could feel all eyes follow his measured journey out of the training facility. But he didn't walk faster. He didn't look back.

It wasn't until Jak passed the four bodies of Kreg, Lil, Luke, and Tiv, climbed the ladder, and collapsed in a dank, dusty corner that he allowed himself a ragged gasp.

He convulsed, repulsed by the beast that both was and wasn't him. But it wasn't that he had revealed himself to his fellows, swatted Daxter like a fly, or even injured Keira that disgusted him so. It was for the look of fear in her beautiful eyes that he would never forgive himself.

jak's really screwed the pooch now. stupid berserker. but even so, this is going to lead to some awesomely juicy drama in the next chapter or two. the next major bit is something i actually wrote way back when i first started writing this story because i always knew i wanted it to happen and i was just way too excited about it to wait two years to write it. it'll be amazing!

please review! i'm likely way too rusty after such a long hiatus, and i need good feedback!