Corad: Man, this hasn't been updated in years! The initial idea for this chapter was give to us by Mr Chocolate, so thank you for that :D I'm not sure how many ppl are actually still reading this, but for those of you who are, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It may not be as funny as previous adventures since I haven't written humor in quite a while. Also, I wrote most of this a while ago, and just finished it off recently, so excuse the writing style if it suddenly changes :) And lastly, thankyou to everyone who reads and/or reviews this. You guys fuel the stupidity XD My sister wrote a couple of paragraphs in this when I got writer's block, so it'll be interesting to see if anyone notices the difference in writing lol.

Fortunately I don't own Jak and Daxter, and never will. I also don't own Final Fantasy, or anything else that I may have used in here.

Palace Stories – If this isn't exaggerated, then my name's not Corad…
Erol: But your name isn't Corad…it's -
Corad: Shut it!

Praxis X

It was a day unlike any other in the palace. The corridors were totally deserted, no guards were patrolling about aimlessly, and the cook was able to happily go about his cook deeds without the fear of the large ogorous man (Aka Baron Praxis) barging into the kitchen and annihilating everything in sight. Yes, it was a strange day indeed.

"Father, what the heck is that?!" And so the events of our idiotic story begin…

"Ashelin sweetie, this is a game. I found it in Vin's PS2 this morning, and decided to buy it," Praxis replied casually, not taking his eyes off what appeared to be a large, flat-screen telly. Ashelin stood in the doorway of her father's bedroom, gazing in horror at what she saw on this telly. It was a horrible sight really. But I guess anything consisting Praxis is horrible if you look at it.

"But father, what is it?! And why did you steal it from Vin?!" Ashelin yelled in shock, watching as the TV screen went black for a brief moment before coming back on. Her eyes widened at the sight of a racing car behind what looked like a starting line. She couldn't tell who was behind the wheel, and probably didn't want to know either.

"Well, I got bored of Myth War after I sat on the computer and it blew up, so I decided to play Jak X. And for your information, I didn't steal it from Vin! I bought it from him…without paying for it…" Praxis muttered, watching the screen in expectance as the race countdown appeared. Once the green light on the game flashed, this is when the horror really began. Smashing his fist—Yes Fist—into the controller's buttons, the car on the TV began to move forward. Ashelin could only stand back and watch, fearing for her life as her father began driving down a city street. Closer inspection told her it was Kras City.

"Come on! Get moving you lolly gagger!" Praxis roared after a few seconds, realizing that his car was going slower than everyone else's in the race, possibly due to extra weight on the controller. He attempted punching the X button to make the car go faster, but that caused more harm than good. The controller began sparking in a threatening manner, but the Baron was too oblivious and continued driving anyway. He soon caught up to another vehicle, closing the gap between them before laughing menacingly.

"Die Ashelin! DIE!" he screamed, shooting out a torpedo from the car which then collided with the car in front. He heard a loud, ear-piercing scream as the Ashelin's car blew up, and cheered in a victory chant over his win before blissfully carrying on down the track. Unfortunately for our dear old Baron, he didn't realize that the scream hadn't come from the game. No…where Ashelin once stood behind him, remained only a charcoaled mess. Well, a charcoaled mess with a raging Ashelin standing in the centre of it, also charcoaled black…but that's not the point here so we'll continue on.

"Oh yeah! Who's da man?!" Praxis boomed, remotely sounding like Sig as he hurtled further down the road, spotting another victim ahead of him. He began laughing again, and picked up a new torpedo from the ground before moving in for kill number two. It wasn't looking very good for—

Torn sat huddled at the underground's desk, flipping through a pile of work papers and maps, subconsciously wishing he were dead. He hated doing all this work, and for what? While he, the greatest fighter of all time, went through hardships just to get Haven city under decent control, that moron, Jak, just went and ruined it all. His efforts were at a lost cause. No matter how hard he tried, he always failed thanks to that blonde headed idiot. But now, it seemed the heavens were looking kindly over him…literally…within a few seconds of wishing he were dead, a loud explosion erupted inside the underground, and passer byers all stood and stared in surprise at the hidden base, wondering what Torn had possibly done now.

But back at the Palace, Praxis was once again cheering, whooping loudly as Torn's car remains flew everywhere, moving the Baron up a position so he currently sat in 6th place. It was beginning to be a good race, considering the Baron had successfully destroyed two of his worst opponents. His next target was Jak, but unfortunately for Haven's large leader, Jak was nowhere to be found. Instead he opted for the next best thing…Razer. Ever since Praxis had bought Razer from the "pet shop" a while ago, the man had been nagging none stop. He was like a broken record, always repeating the same old line: I need my cigarettes! I'm getting cravings!

We all know that if Praxis had surrendered a cigarette to Razer, he'd shut up for a couple of hours. But Praxis likes to see people suffer, particularly the tuck-shop lady at his old high school when he ordered immense amounts of food in one sitting. So, after spotting his next target on screen, Praxis once again moved in for the kill. The Razer on the game was happily driving about, blissfully unaware of the loud cackling currently sounding in the "real" world. And as he moved in closer and closer…

"Those morons didn't know what hit them…I challenged them to a street race the other night, and the fools accepted. I totally wiped them all out…serves them right for messing with my team," Razer bragged, taking a drag of a cigarette while he told his little racing story to his Kras City bar buddies. They were all having a good time, drinking and playing pool in the pub, all unaware that that was all about to end.

"Hey Razer, when's your next race? I wanna come watch it!" one of Razer's younger fans asked in excitement, ambling up to the front counter where the racing genius sat. Razer smirked and took another drag, breathing out smoke lazily, which drifted to the high ceiling. He was about to answer when the bar suddenly exploded, and all the pub-crawlers vacated, screaming and stumbling on their mass evacuation. The fire alarms began going off, and Razer was never seem again…for a few hours.

"Ah Dammit…this is no fun…Ashelin, get me some snacks!" Praxis roared in agitation, driving past a charcoaled car once belonging to Razer. He moved up into 5th place, but he felt the game lacking in excitement now. Since he couldn't find his main target, Jak, the game seemed pointless to play. That is, until he spotted another victim, by the name of—

Torn had finally detangled himself from the mess of the underground, and was currently striding his way towards the Naughty Ottsel in the hopes of tracking down Jak. He had a nagging feeling that this was all Jak's fault for some reason. Call it a gut instinct if you must. The badass leader wasn't quite sure what caused the Underground to explode. The last thing he remembered was a blinding light before everything was a total mess. As he'd been crawling out from under the wreckage, a voice in his head told him Praxis was to blame, but he shook that thought off. It was Jak. He knew it was Jak, because it always was Jak. So now Jak was gonna pay for his crimes.

Taking hurried steps down the path to the Port, he saw it again. The same, blinding white light before a loud detonation occurred around him. The citizens near him began screaming and running away in mad panic, and when the smoke and debris finally cleared, there stood an enraged Torn. Eye twitching unpleasantly, skin and clothes tainted black, what remained of his dreadlocks full of ash…it wasn't a pretty sight.

"Why does this keep HAPPENING?!" he roared at the sky, feeling the last ounce of sanity he'd clung onto all these years, evaporate along with his dignity.

Back at the Palace things began to get interesting again. Upon finding Torn in the race once more, and after blowing him to bits, Praxis started up another one his Baron based victory chants. It attracted the attention of Erol, who was happily passing by in the corridor. Upon hearing the Baron's satisfied mantras, he peered his head in through the door, and spotted Ashelin standing rock still, scowling. He couldn't quite place a finger on it, but Ashelin looked different today. Maybe it was the ash covering her, or the fact that she wasn't roaming around insulting everyone she came across. Whatever it was, Erol completely bypassed her on his way to the Baron's "holy" side. He slowly settled himself beside Praxis and gazed up at the large screen. What he saw made his blood run cold.

"Um, Baron Praxis sir…what is this?" Erol asked slowly, fear riding in his voice as he watched Praxis drive up alongside another racer. Praxis merely waved a large hand in Erol's "general" direction, or more so, the fake plant sitting on his other side. Yes, that same plant had taken the brunt of many Praxis based waves lately. But nonetheless, Erol figured that gesture was meant for him, so remained somewhat quiet as his faithful Baron preceded with his "official" duty, as he liked to call it.

Things couldn't be happier in Praxis' world at the moment. Not only had his new temporary son appeared beside him, wanting in with his holy doings of rampage, but he believed Ashelin was off getting snacks too. Yes, such a happy world. The same could not be said about Keira though. If only she knew what horrors awaited her, just like the horrors that had awaited everyone else. Praxis merely only needed one torpedo to wipe her out of the game, since she sat right in front of his car. If only she knew…

"Have a nice day!" Keira called happily after Damas' receding back. She'd spent all morning fixing up Damas' lawn mower in the garage, which for some reason had her father's wooden sandals lodged in the blades. Why they were there, she did not know entirely, but somehow it may have been linked with Samos' sudden disappearance overnight. Since Damas had been a trusty client however, she could not point the finger of blame, so carried on with her garage chores. Reaching for an oily rag to wipe her hands, she didn't notice the blinding light gradually getting larger and larger behind her, and before she finally did turn around and scream, there was nothing left of the garage…or the whole stadium area for that matter. With all the petrol and whatnot, the flames were of the larger variety, and as such, a chain reaction of love occurred, taking the racing stadium along for the joy ride.

Back at the Palace, Veger suddenly appeared in the lounge room, sheer panic written on his face and sweat glistening on his forehead. He began standing in front of Praxis' gaming screen, shouting out obscenities and pointing randomly out the northern window in mad fright.

"Get out of my way, Vegmar! I'm trying to kill Keira!" Praxis shouted angrily, leaning side to side, hoping to see past Veger's scrawny legs to his destined target on screen.

"But she's already dead! Look at the mess that explosion made!" Veger retorted, refusing to move from his current situation. That remark though, dragged Erol away from the game, and he peered out the window, across the city, to the massive black hole residing where the Stadium once stood.

"Um, Sir…you might want to take a look at this…" Erol groaned, but Praxis started shouting again, telling everyone, including the still ash ridden Ashelin, to "get the hell out". So as the room cleared, the groaning following the retreating individuals, Praxis began his conquering of Jak X again. As explosion after explosion occurred, particularly to a somehow surviving Keira, Torn, Ashelin, and Razer, things turned to the worse in other parts of Haven city.

"Jak you moron! What the hell have you done now?!" Torn roared after entering the Naughty Ottsel, rage written clearly on his rage filled face. Jak sat at the back of the bar, returning Torn's heated glare with more of a blank, fazed-out look. Whether the blonde was being stupid, or whether he really didn't know what Torn was ranting about, didn't cross Razer's mind as he staggered in after the Underground leader.

"Please, help me! I'm being punished for something I don't even know I did!" Razer whined dramatically, dragging charcoaled feet along the floorboards. Jak just looked between one blackened figure to the other, regarding each with a bored expression like he was drugged or something. Like he didn't have a mind of his own anymore. "Uh, maybe I should come back another time?" Razer finished, realizing that our hero didn't look too hero-ly anymore. More like a zombie in fact.

"Jak you idiot! You can't escape this one!" Torn snarled, shoving Jak off his stool where he fell in a slumping, brick crackening manner. It was at that point, when Jak remained dead like on the floor, that someone other than Jak was doing this preposterous damage. And that someone could only be Praxis.

"Alright, he's going down! No more explosions for me!" Torn yelled, grabbing a nearby pool stick hanging on the wall and raising it in victory. Razer followed the enraged Torn towards the door, before yet again, Praxis blew the Underground leader up. But as our new heroes take to the plunge to challenge the Baron themselves, in Spargus, things couldn't be better for dear old Kleiver. Things were going great for him so far. No sign of Damas, the blonde or the rat, his vehicles were all finely tuned and cleaned, and he even managed to beat Jak's gun turret course after months, if not years, at trying to. Yes, everything was great in the land of Kleiver.

"Kleiver, I want you, to pick up my lawn mower from Keira, and mow my lawn before dusk," Damas instructed suddenly, waltzing through the main gate and into Spargus before Kleiver could even begin to protest.

"You don't have a bloody lawn to mow! Do your own dirty work you lazy-assed codger," Kleiver boomed after Damas, only to hear the simple retaliation: "If I'm a lazy-assed codger, what does that make you!". Now that really did it. Yep, the icing on the cake had been laid by the Wasteland King himself. Not many people were brave enough to challenge Daman, and some were smart not too, but Kleiver didn't really fall into any of those categories. "Come back here and say that, ya conniving bugger!" I'm sure Damas would have returned to settle the score, but since Praxis had spotted a newbie on the track of death back at Haven city, things then became somewhat awkward to say the least.

What once stood as Kleiver's prized garage now stood a black hole. And in this black hole, stood Kleiver; a raging Kleiver at that. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew one thing…all his vehicles were gone, vaporized into nothing. And when Damas poked his head back through the garage door, he mentioned something about seeing that happening a lot at Haven city today. And now we have another "hero" on his way to pointlessly avenge himself.

"You stupid car! Get out of my way!" Praxis shouted back in the lounge, eying Pecker's racecar only inches from his own. The sight of Pecker creeping past him gradually made the Baron angry. No one overtook him on his own turf, even though this particular race was set in Kras City. But the thought of Pecker winning pushed him to his limits. He remembered threatening that old lady and her stuffed parrot not so long ago, after they won one of them Chariot races he still had yet to complete after losing interest. Everyone in Haven had hoped Praxis had forgotten those chariot races, but it is only a matter of time until the Baron will burst their bubbles of happy joy, distorting their entire perception of reality... again…

"Father, you have some visitors," Ashelin muttered, leading the way into the lounge, followed closely by Torn, Razer, Kleiver, Sig, Keira, and even Jak had been dragged along.

"Not now Honey, can't you see daddy's about to kill Pecker?" Praxis replied in a knowing tone, shooting out a grenade based missile at the car in front. It soared meaninglessly past Pecker's ride, before landing with a loud thump into someone else's.

"Would you quit doing that?!" Torn shouted, his frustration growing steadily larger as yet another explosion occurred on his behalf. Praxis looked innocently up at him after laying the controller on the floor, having just won the race.

"Doing what, Torn?"

"That! This!" Torn hissed, grabbing the controller, the PS2 and Jak X, before hurling it out the Palace window where it fell pathetically to the ground many stories below. Praxis began to uncontrollably sob, before running out the room screaming about Torn being a troll that destroys little girls' dreams. "Well, that was surprisingly easy," the tattooed man muttered, gazing after Praxis as he ran to the kitchen to raid the fridge or harass the cook. Possibly a bit of both. When he was gone, things began to settle down a little. Jak even perked up, waking up from his zombified form.

"Now that's over, I want me cars back!" Kleiver growled, slumping off out of sight. Everyone believed he was heading back to the Wasteland city, but the sound of Erol's beloved vehicle range being attacked downstairs made the commander run off too, shouting things about self-worth and income waste. Erol's feeble attempts to save his cars would be in vain though, since Kleiver was a hard man to negotiate with, and this Kleiver was in no condition…err…mood, to negotiate.

After a while, things resumed back to normal. Vin appeared, asking where his console and game went, Damas returned to Keira's wreckage of a garage, claiming he wanted his mower back, which no longer existed thanks to Praxis. Kleiver was happy, riding along on Erol's Krimzon guard cruiser, although it did struggle to narrowly miss scraping the concrete paving. Torn slumped back to work in the Underground, or what remained of it. Ashelin decided to take a nice, relaxing bath to rid of the black stains currently occupying every inch of her and her clothes, and Razer decided to partake in a drinking contest with Jak at his bar just to celebrate having actually survived another Praxis based beating. Praxis however, still sat hunched over the kitchen bench, sobbing loudly while stuffing a 20inch sub into his mouth.

"If only you could taste as good as victory," Praxis whined to his sub, parts of his long sandwich falling on everything and everyone.

"You fat man, quit terrorizing my kitchen!" the cook yelled, whacking Praxis on the backside pathetically with his wooden spoon. This had no affect whatsoever as the wooden spoon was forcefully sucked into his flab, so there the Baron remained seated at the kitchen bench until he'd finished eating and slowly slumped off to find entertainment elsewhere. Maybe it had been Razer's fault that what happened next, did. After wandering aimlessly out the Palace door, Praxis laid his eye on Razer's Havoc V12, sitting blissfully unaware on the footpath. It was such a majestic sight for Praxis that he ran, fan-girl screaming the whole, way towards it.

It was as if those around him could predict the future, and began evacuating early while a guard started shouting for mercy and alike. It was a miracle too, that the Havoc could host a twin cab in its single seat. But unfortunately it did, and thus, the real rampage for today began.

"Oh my…Oh my God…I've found it," Praxis said in disbelief, stroking the leather-covered steering wheel affectionately. He then started the vehicle up, and put it into reverse to back it out onto the main street. Sounds of the tires crunching something sounded in Praxis' ears, and he gazed over the top of the door to see what would dare defy him. It was a heartbreaking sight for most Jak and Daxter fans, but a relief for the citizens of Haven city to see the PS2 plus controller, memory card and Jak game all turned into debris on the pavement.

"Heh, I don't need you anymore! I can race for real now!" Praxis taunted, and the nearby guard screaming for mercy believed his Baron was talking to the game console, until he pointed his stubby finger in his direction. "You think you can destroy what little happiness I have, don't you?! Well, I can destroy you!" Praxis then floored the Havoc's accelerator, and drove towards the innocent guard. The guard, wondering what Praxis was blaming him for now, began screaming and running towards Mar's tomb, hands high in the air.

"Alert all citizens, an Ogre has been sighted near the Port region. I repeat, an Ogre has been sighted near the Port region. Avoid that section at all costs," another guard over loudspeaker shouted, panic clearly painting his voice. It was then that everyone began evacuating, but Praxis only had his attention set on one, simple fool. The one in the near distance trying to escape onto Mar's tomb's roof, dressed in nice Armour, looking majestic and such.

"Die! Get down here and face me like a man…and DIE!" Praxis roared, speeding the Havoc up faster. He drove straight for his innocent victim, and crashed head on into the thick, solid door leading inside Mar's ancient Tomb. His victim fell, colliding with a loud thump on the paved ground, and the Baron cheered as Praxis' head rolled past. He had won.

"Um sir, why are you destroying that statue of Yourself?" Erol asked after just having wandered out the Palace, realizing that the city was under high alert that only the Baron could be capable of setting off. Praxis gave his commander a weary look, before pointing accusingly at the rubble that once stood as his statue.

"It was saying mean things to me, so I killed him," Praxis replied, before shifting the car into first gear. He drove off back down the road, in search of his next victim. He knew whom he had yet to deal with. There was only one man that Praxis wanted wiped from this world for good.

"Stupid, heap of trash! Open up will you!" Torn growled in frustration, trying to open up the underground door. It was a futile effort however, since all that remained of the underground's wall was in fact, the door. He didn't even need to use the door to get inside. But as Torn tried to shift it open anyway, he heard it. Yes, the rumbling of an engine, the all too familiar sound of Razer's cherished ride. Torn was wondering what business Razer had here, until it daunted on him…the engine was struggling, and that could only mean one thing.

"You're gonna pay for your crimes, you rust-bucket of a man!" the Baron shouted, wielding what appeared to be Damas' staff in one hand, while juggling another 20 inch sub in the other. He was using his knees to steer the car, and as a result, kept running into things, such as the occasional Market stall the slum's people had set up. But as he neared Torn, the Underground leader felt trapped. He had no escape route planned out since the alleyway had only one exit, and that was currently being blocked by his worst nightmare. Why hadn't he seen this coming?! He began cursing the Shadow for setting up base in such a stupid location, fearing his life as Praxis drew steadily nearer, the staff positioned in his hand like a spear or lance complimented by the well known Xena War cry.

"You die now!" the Baron continued to rant, perfecting the skill of ranting even more as he began shouting out other, unimportant things that weren't even related to anything. However, as Praxis neared Torn, he suddenly took a sharp left, driving through the remnants of the underground and security wall, before disappearing into the wasteland. Torn heaved a sigh of relief when Praxis was gone, until he heard another engine struggling to run. He tensed up at the sight of Damas riding past on his beaten-up old mower that had somehow survived the garage explosion. He was hunched over what remained of the steering wheel; face determined and looking agitated, and Torn even heard his Rhino like breathing. Once Damas had gone by too, presumably after Praxis, Torn slumped to the ground, wondering why on earth he was still being punished.

"You're gonna die old man! Just you wait!" Praxis was still ranting, still waving the staff about and eating his sub. He ran over a few metal heads hiding in the sand, but seemed unfazed. He continued driving through the desert, rambling and screaming non-stop, even when Damas somehow caught up in his mower. From first glance one would think they were drag racing, but Damas was intent on getting his staff back, after Praxis had unceremoniously mugged him and nicked off with it.

"I own this city!" Praxis screamed once Damas grabbed hold of one end of his staff, trying to yank it back.

"I own this desert!" Damas replied, as Praxis tugged the staff away from his arch nemesis. The two kept having a tug-of-war match with Damas' staff, both sitting about a meter apart from one another. They even kept fighting over it, after encountering a cactus. The poor cactus should have seen it coming when the two appeared over the dune, both driving like maniacs towards it. As Praxis drove past it on one side, Damas the other, the staff unfortunately went straight through it. Cactus fluid and needles flew everywhere; only a small stump remained growing in the sand.

"I didn't authorize a 1000 needle attack!" Praxis boomed, shaking his fist at the miserable remnants of a once perfect cactus behind him. Little did Praxis know that he was no longer playing Final Fantasy, and cacti didn't attack people like he believed.

"Oh yeah? Slowga!" Damas shouted unexpectedly as Praxis began to inch past him. Praxis started to slow down, traveling at snail's pace in the top-notch racing vehicle. It was a horrible sight indeed to see Razer's precious car struggling to do over 5km/h. But as Praxis slowed down, his insults also slowing down, Damas began casting Haste on himself, so his mower began speeding up. He flew off into the distance, shouting stuff about winning this race while Praxis brandished the staff in his direction, looking like it was in slow motion. It had appeared that Damas had forgotten that all he set out for was his staff, but the thought of beating Praxis to his destination must have looked like a sweeter victory.

So as the baron drove slowly for about ten more minutes, still brandishing his weapon and screaming insults to no one in particular, he finally sped up again. By the time Praxis had reached Spargus, Damas was already basking in his victory back at his throne, his mower crashed into the wall next to the throne room lift. It looked as if Damas had attempted to drive the thing onto the lift but failed miserably. But this wasn't where Praxis stopped. No, he approached Kleiver, pointing to his special little Leaper Lizard.

"How about I trade you my prized racing vehicle, for that leaping vehicle," Praxis offered, stroking his beard while trying to bargain with Kleiver. Kleiver accepted the offer, now calling Razer's car his own, while Praxis attempted to mount the Leaper Lizard. With many struggles comes a victory, and as Praxis finally mounted the lizard, the poor thing suffering from the tremendous amount of weight, he set off out the wasteland door again. Where to, nobody knew. Why he was going, still no one knew. That is all, except for Seem.

"My King! An ugly beast of a disproportional size has entered the Monk Temple!" Seem screamed, running up to Damas with what appeared to be a half empty beer bottle clutched in her hand. Damas eyed Seem's panicked face, before lowering his eyes to the bottle. A Monk with a half finished bottle of beer, such a filthy sight indeed. From Damas' view, the bottle should be empty.

"Hmm, give me the remains of that, and I shall destroy this beast of which you speak," Damas replied, pointing at the beer bottle Seem was clutching onto. She thought long and hard for a few moments, deciding which was more important to her. The beer she'd picked up half price, or the Monk Temple that housed ancient knowledge on the Precursors. She finally handed over the beer, which by then this "beast" would've probably destroyed the Temple. But Damas slumped off his throne, disappearing down the lift with the bottle to see into this matter.

Damas seated himself back on his mower, or what remained of it at the current stage, and drove out the city towards the Monk Temple. Little did he know that his arch nemesis was in fact, the beast that was happily terrorizing everything, including the unfortunate soul currently dragging him across the desert.

"Faster you weakling!" Praxis screamed at the Leaper Lizard, as it began jumping across the gaps between the isles. It was a miracle that the thing made it that far, but still Praxis was urging it on. "I have an old man to kill!" the baron growled, crossing his arms in a pouting manner. The lizard rolled its eyes, wondering which old man was left to dispose of, considering he'd met both Kleiver and Damas already.

Eventually the lizard came to a halt, and collapsed in the sand, looking as dead as ever. Praxis dismounted happily, scuffling through the entrance of the Monk Temple and through the far door. He appeared soon after in front of his destined target, after a few minor setbacks (shows mass destruction through the holy grounds, including a few flaming and totally destroyed Precursor monuments). "Ah, the time has come, when I shall get my revenge…" Praxis giggled, wandering up to the huge statue of a Precursor, the staff still held within his beefy hands. He came to a sudden standstill, realizing that he could go no further when the ground suddenly ended.

"Why have you come, oh ogorous warrior," the Precursor statue whined in that majestic voice of his, when it noticed the tubby man in front it. Praxis remained silent, nervously eyeing around him trying to think up a decent enough excuse.

"To get my revenge…you still owe me!" Praxis replied, pointing up accusingly at the God-like structure.

"I told you, I already paid you back!"

"No you didn't! You ate 17 pizza slices! You paid for 16 and a half!"

"You venture this far, just to get a few measly dollars from me? Should you not be protecting your city, warrior?"

"I own this city!"

"Correction, you own that city. And why are you not there now?"

"I uh…" Praxis fell silent, wondering that himself. He was about to answer, when Damas suddenly appeared with the now almost empty bottle of beer. He was staggering slightly, being a total embarrassment to the word "light weight". But as he neared, the Precursor set his sights on the Wasteland King, forgetting that Praxis even existed.

"You, why are you here?"

"You can't…tell me (hic) what to do…I own this city!" Damas responded, swaying on the spot as he clutched the beer bottle for dear life.

"Correction, you own that city. This is not a city. This is a Temple you fool," the Precursor statue corrected the sand leader.

"NA-AH!!" Damas drunkenly stated, hurling what remained of the beer at the statue. Glass shattering, liquid spraying everywhere - Damas had done it now.

"Infidel!" the statue roared.

"Quick! Kleiver!! Air five!!" Damas slurred, high fiving the air as if Kleiver was in the room.

"That's it! We're sorting this out back at my pad!" Praxis boomed, growing tired of the 'old farts' ranting on around him. He'd ventured to the Monk Temple for one reason, and one reason only. The problem was, he could no longer remember what that reason was, so instead of wasting more valuable rampage time, Praxis began to usher Damas and the Precursor statue out of the citadel.

Damas was easily enough removed from the Monk Sanctuary Temple grounds, but the Precursor statue proved to be somewhat of a small hiccup in Praxis' perfect, flawless plan. "Yes, a small hiccup," Praxis murmured whilst stroking his beard again, calculating it all in his brain. Glancing from the Precursor to the small arch known as the escape door, to the black hole surrounding the large statue, the Baron came to a horrid, horrid conclusion, in which he forgot moments later much like his reason for being there in the first place.

"Ok gramps, move it outta here!" Praxis ordered in a booming voice that echoed around the Temple, scaring a few innocent monks away from their hourly worship, thinking they were under attack by a beast of some ugly description. The Precursor remained where he was, and the room fell into an awkward silence, save for Damas in the nearby hall having a drunken conversation with one of the many smaller statues.

"Well?" Praxis asked, waiting for this ancient structure to obey his god-like command.

"Unless you've failed to notice, ogre-fool Baron, but I am permanently stuck in this Temple. No one may move me. No one at—HEY!" the Precursor screamed, feeling Praxis begin to push it forwards. How Praxis was able to push the huge statue, let alone over the black crevices, it's best we do not know. Some say his Fatman powers had mysteriously returned, but others were quick to correct those fools who thought Fatman had reappeared, due to the fact that Fatman had no super powers. All in all, Praxis, Damas and the Precursor all appeared outside the Monk Temple; Damas ranting none stop to Kleiver who wasn't even there, and the Precursor Statue complaining about anything that came to mind, mainly the reason for its existence.

As Praxis tied the Precursor Statue to the end of Damas' beaten up mower, a few Monks ran screaming from inside the Temple, having witnessed the path of destruction caused by Praxis' infamous Precursor drive. Yes, it was a horrible scene indeed, with huge holes in almost every wall thanks to Praxis getting hopelessly lost whilst pushing his newly-found best-friend.

"Isn't it perfect," the baron said happily, admiring the tangled knot mess he'd created. The Precursor rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation while Praxis ushered Damas onto the mower. Praxis watched in joy as Spargus' King drunkenly drove the mower down the steep slope back to the wasteland, dragging a screaming, enraged Precursor along behind him. "They grow up so fast," the Baron said in a weepy voice, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, watching as his "children" disappeared from sight.

Getting onto his half-dead leaper Lizard, Praxis followed in pursuit, and caught up to Damas quickly enough who was struggling to get past the gaps in between the islets. How he managed to get to the Monk Temple in the first place was a mystery, but now he was faced with a problem, and in his drunken state, Damas just drove into the water, the top of the Precursor Statue the only think visible as he traveled along the ocean floor.

When all three had finally reached dry land again, Damas continued driving and ranting, swerving all over the place whilst the ancient Precursor was screaming for mercy from God, even though he is technically considered a God, so his screams were ineffective.

Eventually the threesome struck more trouble when the mower's engine suddenly caught fire, having struggled for miles pulling "old Gramps" as Praxis kindly put it. The engine began to violently vibrate, until it finally blew up, and Damas rolled to a slow halt.

"I own this city!" was Damas' slurred input to the situation, glaring ahead of him, acting oblivious to the fact that he was no longer moving. He kept tilting the steering wheel from side to side, flooring the accelerator and shouting at people to move out of his way. It was a sad, embarrassing sight for all the Damas followers.

"Ok, I've got this all sorted. A minor setback, but we can get past this," Praxis said, trying to control the situation at hand. "I'll get Kleiver to fix the mower," he finished, forcing his Lizard to move again while Damas began complaining that Kleiver was already here, patting the mower's flaming bonnet in the process.

And so Praxis made the heroic journey back to the Spargus Garage, hunched over the reins of the Lizard, commanding his beast "onwards" whist wielding a cactus arm above his head, having lost Damas' staff somewhere in the Monk Temple confusion. It was such a majestic sight to behold.

"Quick Kleive-tron! I need you to fix Kleiver! He blew up in the wasteland trying to carry Old Man Gramps!" Praxis roared in desperation, pointing out across the desert where black smoke could just be seen drifting from a distant dune. It wasn't as if Kleiver wanted to go fix this "Kleiver" that Praxis spoke of, but the Baron had somehow forced him using mind games. Somewhere along the lines, Praxis had offered to let him back into Haven if he refused to help Damas, only to have him banished again into Spargus. In all reality the punishment deemed pointless in Kleiver's eyes, and decided to help just to get away from Haven's one and only nightmare.

As Kleiver squished himself onto Erol's cherished cruiser and drove off to get the horrible deed over and done with, Praxis admired his work, grinning happily in victory. The sight of Kleiver's Barbie printed PS2 and favorite game sitting idly nearby the Spargus gate only prolonged the Baron's happy victory, as he grabbed the whole package and Razer's Havoc before setting off into the sunset, never to return to Damas and friends again in this particular rampage.

Later that Night

"JAK! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" Torn yelled, his eye twitching dangerously as Jak nudged the side of his head yet again with the zoomer, just outside the Underground base.

"TORN! I can't stop it! It's not responding! I can't even get off it!" Jak looked panicked, fumbling with the controls of the zoomer, trying to stop it repetitively hitting Torn while the Underground's Bad-ass yelled his infuriated head off, threatening to kill his blonde headed subordinate. It would be a futile effort though, for no one could stop this…no one…that is, except for Praxis…

"Heheheheheheheheh!! DIE TORN! DIE!" the Baron cheered whilst playing Jak 2 with Kleiver's stolen console. He was driving the zoomer yet again into Torn's unsuspecting head, his victory chants only getting louder as the zoomer finally blew up into a flaming wreckage. Immediately after the demise of his zoomer, Praxis made Jak run off to collect a new one, and with that new vehicle, began ramming it into Torn's head once more. It would be a long night for our unfortunate blonde hero, and an even longer one for poor - utterly defenseless against this current predicament - Torn.

Erol knew, as he watched on from the darkness and safety of the hallway outside, that it would only be a matter of time before Praxis reached the certain scene involving himself, Kor and the construction site. That certain scene, Erol knew, would end Haven's ongoing rampages, if only for a little while.

If only he knew how wrong he was…

Corad: The Morale of this story...Praxis is a bad gamer O.o
Erol: What? You idiot, that's not the morale! The morale is never give Praxis a gaming console, or leave your Havoc V12 unattended on the sidewalk! (glares at Razer)
Razer: It wasn't my fault your Baron discovered it. It was simply back luck.
Erol: Bad Luck?! And does your "bad luck" explain why everything else seems to go wrong when Praxis is involved?
Razer: How would I know? I shouldn't even be here. Praxis disappeared before I was created, so-
Corad: (zones out of argument) Man...I've got a sudden urge to play Jak X now...but I'm only up to Jak 2 in my yearly crawl back (shifty eye). But yeah, how was that for an update? Comments are greatly appreciated, so if you have the time. Only has to be a word or two at most :D I know it's a bit long...didn't know where to stop it, plus you could say it somehow makes up for a year of no update. Well...I'm guessing it's a year...it could be longer O.O I hope this was worth you time, and I'll see you in the next update, which judging by the ideas we're churning out, not to mention the sequel to this chapter, it could be quite soon.