A.N. I can't really say anything about how long this chapter has taken except to apologise. The past few weeks… months really have been totally hectic at my college and in my personal life so this was forced to take a back seat, a fact for which I must apologise once more. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this latest instalment, thank you to all of you who have reviewed so far, if it wasn't for your encouragement I'd have never managed to get this chapter out. In a twist the greatest praise must go to Curiosity Inc whose sterling reviews have helped me pull myself back into writing, other personal thanks must go to Lady Xiu Mei Pheonix and Pheonix Flower who have both been with me since the start ; ) thanks a lot for all your support guys. Now then, on with the show:

The Visionary

Chapter Eight- A Deal with the Devil

Jak held his hands slightly out from his body as the elite flooded in, over thirty of them, golden armoured and each bearing in his hands a heavy-duty fire-lance. They were slower firing than their lighter cousins but with the power to stop a hellcat cruiser when they hit. They slowed to a halt at the doors that Erol had thrown open, glancing at the body on the floor and the gruesome remnants scattered across the hall. For a long moment no one moved, their fire-lances held loosely toward the ground and Jak's rifle still in its holster.

He cursed silently, with the aid of his dark alter ego even these thirty would have barely been a challenge but he was without that avenue. One hand drifted an inch closer to his rifle and thirty fire-lance tips raised a fraction. Whatever they had been expecting it was not to find him standing over what had been Erol and that gave him an advantage. He licked his lips, it would be about thirty seconds before that advantage was gone though, he had to think of something, fast.

His eyes darted to the small floor-grille that had allowed him access, fifteen metres, they could each get off at least two shots each in the time it would take to dive down and escape. What were the chances of sixty shots missing? With the Elite? Infinitesimally small, even regulars would easily take him down with those odds. A grenade? He had two left, one would take out three, stun maybe a half-dozen more considering how bunched up they were but that left twenty, still forty shots. Escape was not going to work.

He remembered the look in Erol's eyes as he took in the emotionless visors of their helmets, hiding whatever thoughts clouded their faces. Those eyes had been an animal's eyes. Those eyes would not have called for thirty Elite to back him up. He had been right, Erol had been a figurehead, the brawn, these men were working for the brains, and there was only one man he knew of who qualified. He kept his voice even, never letting his hand move away from his rifle or his grenades. God he hoped this would work.

'Tell Minister Michaels that I want to speak with him.' It worked, the Elite glanced at each other, none of them officers and so none of them prepared to take charge. Jak tried not to make a sound as he let out the breath he had been holding in. He built the power in his voice, as though he had every right to expect obedience. 'Well? You heard me! I know that he sent you down here to find out what happened to Erol. Now you know. So go tell Michaels that Jak Marr has an offer for him.' The tone and the name worked together to nourish the seed of confusion in them. Their training meant that not a single fire-lance turned away from him nor a single eye left him but several of them leant closer together, talking in low, urgent tones. It was a tense moment as one of them spoke into the communicator in his helmet and Jak's fingers twitched closer to his grenades, both of them and there would only be ten shots, those odds were better, not good, but better.

Then the self-appointed spokesman for the Elite gestured to through the doorway with his fire-lance, stepping aside as the others cleared a channel. 'Come with us! Michaels will see you in the throne room.'

Jak strode forward, letting none of his raw nerves show, 'About damn time!'

The Elite followed him cautiously, filling the corridors behind him with their fire-lances trained on his back. Jak kept his eyes forward, fighting to keep his hands steady as the space between his shoulder-blades itched, expecting at any moment to feel the searing heat and pain as a bolt of yellow and red eco punched him to the floor. It was easy enough to follow the trail that the Elite had followed to find him, Erol had not been stealthy in his descent and tracks of scorched wall and shattered ancient doorways marked his path clearly. The Elite were never more than two paces behind him however and every side-passage that could have offered him escape was too wide and too smooth to offer him enough cover to make good on any attempt.

He was never scared, the emotion had been bled out of him in the two years of torture that had made him what he was. But he was close as he walked ever upward, mind racing as he tried to think of a way out of this. Drawing Erol out into the city so that the canister could have been used on him alone and left him open to Jak would have cost dozens, maybe scores of lives. But levelling the playing field between them as he had, by coming here on his own... Keira was never going to forgive him if he died.

They rose through the levels until they reached the current palace rooms, Jak's eyes taking in the fresher scars that marked these walls, evidence of the conflict that had scoured these halls just days ago. An elevator provided him the best opportunity but he decided against snapping the necks of the two nervous guards that flanked him. He had no control over the elevator's destination and there would be dozens waiting for him when the doors opened. Then his thoughts were whipped back to the present as he suddenly found himself striding through the throne room doors.

If it had been damaged in the earlier battle the signs had been cleared away, the massive, high arched walls smooth and polished, the glass above letting the sunlight filter in clearly, lighting everything in deep but natural shadows. It was a peculiarly serene setting considering the violence that was being wrought below in the city. As he stalked in his eyes found Michaels sitting on the throne. A hasty honour guard had been cobbled together and a dozen elite flanked him on either side. However it was plain that they were only newly returned from battle, dirt and dust staining their armour. Jak tried not to let his relief show. Michaels was taking his offer seriously enough to expend resources putting on an appearance of authority.

He strode forward and stopped a few paces short of the honour guard, not giving them the chance to force him to a halt. He had learned during his time intertwined with haven City's under-belly that at a time like this authority counted for everything. He had learned fast every trick there was in gaining it.

Michaels stared at him over steepled fingers, slouching so that he fit in the throne designed for a larger frame. His eyes had a haggard, tired look to them but still bore a malevolent spark in their depths, the suits he had worn as a minister swapped for an attempt at the Baron's old armour to give him some of that old authority. However to Jak's eyes the effect was diminished as he saw that the plates ill-fitted his small frame, the suit obviously cobbled together from spares rather than custom made.

'Give me one good reason that I should let you live?'

Jak shrugged as though the answer were obvious, 'Because Erol's dead. The people would have followed him, you'd have run it I know but he would have been the figurehead, at least for a little while. They won't follow you, even if you win. They'll follow me though, you need me alive.'

'What do you want?' Michael's voice was hard and even and Jak knew that he still had to play this carefully.

'To get out of the city.'

Michael's eyebrows raised a fraction; Jak had piqued his interest. 'What about the cause of the people? What about your precious Governor?'

Jak sneered, 'You honestly think I care about them? After all that this city has done to me I couldn't care less if the whole damn thing disappeared. Hell, I'd like it to. I only fought for them because of Erol, me and him… we had business. Now that that's over, I just want out. I'll do whatever it takes to get there.'

'Even betray your friends?'

Jak shrugged, 'Sure, they aren't my friends. I don't know what I can tell you though. They didn't trust me anymore than I trusted them. I'll smile for your cameras if that's what you want.'

Michaels stared at him for a moment, 'What about Keira?'

Jak shrugged again, 'What about her? She was a good lay.' Guilt clawed at his insides but he refused to let it show. This conversation was about survival. His conscience could kick him in the belly later.

Michaels glanced over Jak's shoulder and Jak's eyes followed his gaze to find an elite pointing a strange device at him, the soldier shaking his head slowly. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. That was a lie detector.

"Oh sh"

Keira sat quietly on her bed the note forgotten beside her as she stared at the opposite wall, the whitewashed plaster stained by age to a duller hue. Daxter had insisted that in Jak's absence she stay with him and her room looked out onto the harbour from above the Naughty Ottsel, the sun shining down onto the deserted streets and undisturbed surface of the water. Those civilians that had opted to remain out of the fighting remained behind closed doors as much as though could. Not that there was much chance of being caught in the crossfire around the harbour, most of the fighting was now exclusively around the palace.

The Regulars were winning, slowly but surely the Elite had been pushed back. Throughout the city civilians had answered the rallying call and fought side by side with the regulars. What had started out as barely fifteen thousand troops had swelled until now the estimates were at almost a million. With barely five thousand Elite, Michaels' troops were outnumbered almost two hundred to one. The city belonged to Torn and Ashelin but both of them had forbidden a strike on the palace. Though the automated defences were not working the manually operated ones were fully functional and with them at their command the elite would turn any head-on assault into a blood bath. Though victory would nonetheless be all but assured Torn was not willing to give Michaels the satisfaction of taking thousands of innocents with him to the grave.

She sighed as she stood, moving to her window. The longer he held off the longer she would be left wondering. Jak had told her in his letter, told her what he planned, told her that in all likelihood he would be forced to ride out the war hiding within the palace. She prayed he would only be hiding and not captured, or worse. She shook the thoughts from her mind; it did no good to dwell on such things. She turned her eyes to the horizon, as she ran her mind over the various jobs that she could do to keep herself busy. As she made to turn away to begin one such task a ripple caught her attention.

Curious, her eyes narrowed as she leaned out, opening the window to afford herself a better view. Shadows caught her gaze, strange, sinuous shapes that slid in and out of focus on the surface of the water. For a moment she glanced skyward, cloud shadows? No, it was a clear sky, and besides, she had seen ripples, she was sure of it. Could it just be a trick of the light? No, there they were again. She frowned, they looked familiar there was something in the way they moved. Another hint of movement, this time almost where the water met the street. Her mouth went dry as beneath the surface of the water she caught sight of a pair of malevolently glowing eyes, and then another, and then another.

She turned to cry out a warning but it was already too late. The metalheads burst forth from the water in the same instant that the first volley smashed into the Naughty Ottsel. Her warning turned to a shrill cry as seething bolts of dark eco smashed the flimsy wall apart, her window shattering as plaster and brick work showered her in a cloud of dust and debris. A gaping wound was opened up in the wall as the two wastelanders two wastelanders that had been charged with guarding the door of the Ottsel went down, their guns silenced swiftly but their cries lost beneath the rising din. These were no mere grunts that had come to the Ottsel, these were Metalhead soldiers, the elite of the metalhead ranks, hatched in pools of dark eco and effused with its power.

But as they smashed through and into the bar on the ground floor gunfire rose once more, the veteran hunters showing the metalheads how they had earned such a fearsome reputation as even the elite were driven back. But this was lost on Keira as she groped for the pistol that Daxter had left on her bedside table, her doors banging open as the two wastelanders set to guard her rushed to her aid. Outside the metalheads however had been swift and just as they burst in the first of the soldiers hooked a claw onto the rough ledge and hauled itself up. But once more the wastelanders showed their mettle and as soon as it's roaring head appeared above the ruined brickwork a blaster bolt took it in the throat, sending it tumbling backward onto those below. Yet before the wastelanders could pull her to safety another of the creatures was in the room, leaping the stonework with supernatural swiftness. A bolt took it in the chest in mid air as the second of the wastelanders knelt and sent a shot into a third, the two holding their own against even these creatures.

But the assault was determined and just as one turned to Keira to pull her to her feet a salamander on the street below sent a charge spinning into the room, the dark eco detonating with a hiss. One of the wastelanders was thrown backward, into the corridor as heat blasted his features and the other stumbled away from the blast, swatting wildly at the flames that licked at the material of his jacket.

As shadows filled the hole once more Keira's hand finally closed on the pistol and she span, snapping off shots wildly. More by luck than judgement her first shot took one of them in the eye and it went down, it's head jerking backward with a harsh crack. But before she could re-aim a second swatted the pistol out of her hands, a clawed hand reaching out to seize her shoulder. Lifting her as though she were a rag-doll the metalhead span and hurled her back through the hole with a howl of triumph. For it's trouble it died as the wastelander cast aside his jacket and blew a hole in its chest, his partner reappearing to blast two more of them from the small room

Below too the metalheads were driven back as more wastelanders arrived from the back rooms of the Ottsel, Sig and Daxter at their head, the element of surprise now lost to the metalheads. But it was too late for Keira as she found herself seized in an iron grip, claws closing around each of her limbs as the metalheads lumbered away from the ottsel, moving with strict purpose. Terrified citizenry, fearing a second invasion on top of the civil war did not interfere with them as a small knot of soldiers raced through the streets with her struggling figure in their midst.

Back at the ottsel the wastelanders swarmed out onto the streets, weapons fire picking off the last of the metalheads as they scattered. As they retook the street Daxter turned upon Sig's shoulder his eyes rising to take in what had been the front of Keira's room. As the two wastelanders that had been at her door appeared in the opening he swore,

'Where's Keira?' He shouted up, already staring frantically around the street.

'They took her! She was alive! Four, maybe five soldiers got her, headed east!'

Before Daxter could think Sig had already given orders, his huge frame belying the speed with which he moved. 'Mount up! We're getting the girl back!'

His speeder was parked alongside the others of the wastelanders and with a roar of engines they began to take off, a column of fighters speeding through the streets, ignoring the last of the metalheads as they slid into the water but instead watched for any of them bunched together. On Sig's shoulder Daxter hung on as his massive speeder roared through the streets, the wastelanders spreading out around them, their smaller speeders darting down alleys and side streets, sharp eyes searching every shadow and crevice.

A shout went up as gunfire erupted once more a little ahead of Sig's speeder and he gunned the engine, roaring around the corner and onto another main street as the wastelanders converged. The sight that greeted their eyes was the last any of them expected to see. A sewer entrance had been opened, the large, powered doors begin to close over human figures armoured in the gold of elite, metalheads moving in their midst. With a snarl Sig gunned his engine and flew straight at them but it was too late. Shots hissed past him on either side until one struck his speeder a fatal blow, the bike disintegrating under the wastelander even as he fired wildly through the dwindling portal. The blast of his fuel tank detonating threw him tumbling to the ground even as the doors slammed shut and by the time he had rolled to a stop before them they were sealed, the wrecked control panel beside them showing that the elite had expected and denied him pursuit.

As Sig roared his frustration Daxter slumped against the walls, tiny fists pounding uselessly on the metal panelling as he screwed his eyes shut. He'd messed up, he'd really, really messed up. Oh Jak was going to be really, really, really angry.

'Sig, get the boys together see if you can find another entrance and track those guys.' Even as Sig rose to obey they both knew it was a futile effort, the sewers under Haven City were a warren of shafts and passages, it was impossible to find someone down there. Not if they didn't want to be found.

Michaels smirked as a coded transmission appeared on his screen, only a few cryptic words but ones that he had been waiting for with baited breath. His insurance was in place. His smile grew, they had all been so stupid to forget the metalheads. Erol, Torn, Ashelin, even Jak had never wondered what part the creatures could play in the future of the city, even after their convenient incursion had allowed him to take over the palace they still had not realised that something guided them still.

Without their leader they were slaves of eco, whoever could give them a purified source became in effect, their God. With the drill platform still under his control, that was he. It was true that after their initial massacre in that final battle of the Praxis War there had not been many left and even those numbers had been positively butchered in the run up to his coup. But there were still enough left for small operations and though they were by no means the smartest creatures, they could obey orders unflinchingly.

There were not enough to combat the huge numbers of regulars and militia that surrounded his palace even now but his technicians would soon see to that. Ashelin had not been as thorough as she thought in disabling the city's automated security grid and once it was back online he would be able to slaughter her army and close an iron fist over the city. He could already imagine the whine of the turbo cannons as they came online and burst into life throughout the city. Her and her precious fighters would be thrown back into the slums where the grid barely existed and the rest of the city would be his. After that it would only be a matter of time before he was able to root them out. Victory would be his, he would snatch it from the very jaws of defeat and not even their pet king could save them, not while Michaels held his heart in a vice.

Jak awoke slowly, his head throbbing as he blinked to clear the spots dancing in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and swore as it touched a tender spot, warmth coating his fingers as they recoiled. With hazy vision he stared at his fingers. Blood. Hs memories returned and he swore quietly. Well, that could have gone better. Still, some of what he'd said had been true and Michaels knew it. That was probably the only reason he was still alive, Michaels would need him to smile for the cameras and endorse him when, if, he won.

His hand automatically felt for his weapon belt. It was gone. A quick mental checklist of the other weapons he'd been carrying revealed they'd remembered the knife in his right boot but not bothered to search for the one he could still feel in his left. The one-shot was gone from his right forearm and so was the plastic explosive hidden in his goggles. He had one knife… but it was a knife they didn't know he had. It could be worse.

His eyes rose to take in his cell and he suppressed a growl, it was one of the lower dungeon cells, the same kind that had held him for two years. The walls were bare stone, dripping with mildew, the single rusted bed in the room draped with a thread-bare blanket and a mattress that was probably older than he was. Above him a single light bulb glimmered dully, barely lighting the small room. The door was the only thing in the room to show signs of care, solid, thick and metal, cold steel layered into a construction that would give even Dark Jak trouble in breaking through. Still, there was always the knife, you'd be amazed what you could do with a knife.

He turned at a sound behind him, a holographic communicator showing him Michael's head as the senator stared down at him.

He tried to sound nonchalant, 'I may have lied but I'm not stupid. You need me to smile for the cameras if you win this war. So now that you've had some time to think, what do you say to my offer Michaels?'

The Senator smiled at him, an oily, smirk, 'I saw that I can make you an offer that you can't refuse.'

Something in his voice told Jak that this was serious, 'Go on.' He said slowly.

'Well, funny thing is you see my men caught this little girl sneaking around the city. You'll never guess who it was…

A.N I'm quite happy with the way this chapter came out and I promise you that now that I've got going again the next post will be made within a week. I hope that I haven't become rusty without the practise so please tell me what you thought of this latest chapter. Anyway, thank you again for your patience and I hope that you all enjoy this chapter as much as you seem to have enjoyed the others.

Go with God

The Visionary