A/N: Nope. I don't own any of it. Not even the little girl because she's based on my little cousin. Please don't sue me, Naughty Dog, because I have no money. What little I did have was spent on buying your fine games. Even if you did sin against nature and character in Jak 3, I still love you. Anyway, this is my take on what happened to all the major characters from Jak II – so if you're going to read it, get ready for the long haul. The bolded sentences indicate a speaker change – sorry, I couldn't find another way to indicated it. Hope you enjoy!

Jak had never been good with words, but it had never mattered because Daxter had always been more than willing to fill the silence with more than enough chatter for the both of them. Only - Daxter was not here to babble explanations or ask the required questions and the faceless men in the red armor were taking Jak's silence as an insult. His breath came in short bursts that exploded against his bruised ribs as he tried to scrabble to his feet. Jak worked his mouth in vain, trying to make the words come out to at least ask the questions that would let the world make sense since he had no answers to give to the jeering soldiers.

"W-w-w-" he gulped. He had never liked being loud. Jak had dim memories of being very young and told to be very quiet because something was out somewhere – something horrible and to be a good, quiet boy. He was never certain if these shadowy recollections were dreams or not.

"Trying to bawl like a baby, boy?" The thick butt of a rifle cracked against Jak's spine and again he flopped to the hard floor. "You'll be sorry for your insolence once Erol arrives." Jak lay stunned on the floor, his mind frantically trying to make sense of this – this place. Where was he? Where was Daxter? Where was Kiera? Was this happening to them? Where was Samos? What had he meant by finding himself?

"You are making a terrible mistake!" Samos bellowed as the heavy door slid into place and the lock clinked into place. "You must release me so that I can help save the city!"

"The Baron doesn't need your help!" Snarled the guard through the tiny, barred window. "We know you're working with the Metal Heads! We caught your young friend who came crashing down in that thing and he already confessed! So why don't you just save yourself a lot of pain and tell us what you're really doing here!"

Samos' heart plummeted to his soles. These violent men had Kiera? "What young friend?" he rasped, grasping the bars at the window.

"That blonde kid," the guard laughed darkly as he walked away. "He told us all about how you're working with the metal heads. If you don't fess up . . .well, at best you'll be left here to rot!" Samos sighed his relief and slumped to the floor. Kiera was safe, they only had Jak –

Only had Jak? He leapt to his feet. He had been sent into the past to protect Jak, to ensure that the boy had been raised safely until he grew into the awesome weight of his destiny, until he mature into his powers! And now the Baron had him! And Kiera was also somewhere alone in this nightmare world he had spent his entire life trying to improve!

Ice ran through his veins as he contemplated the Baron's regime. The people he cherished the most subjected to its brutality. When he had been The Shadow he had not been burdened with responsibility for any one's life save his own. What had he done? How could he have been so foolish as to allow this to hap-

"Wait," he muttered fiercely. "Control yourself, Samos. This is destiny. Jak will be fine. Worse for wear from what I can remember, but fine nonetheless. Kiera is safe – I remember that much, dammit." Samos sighed and wondered exactly when it was and how long it would take before he would get to meet his impetuous younger self. It couldn't possibly be more than a month or two.

Still, he wished that he had had the chance to wander his home, if only for a few days, before being captured. It would have been nice to walk the familiar streets of his youth and wander the bazaar. He could have dropped in on Onin, that delightfully mysterious old woman who would be thrilled to see how he had progressed in his studies. Well, there would be plenty of time for that once he was freed. After all, Jak would eventually come upon the quiet little boy he had once been.

"Only," Samos frowned. "If I'm here, and Jak is in jail and Kiera will tell me all about working at the Arena and her futile search for Jak . . .then that only leaves . . .oh no!"

"Where the heck am I?" Daxter squawked as he scurried along the alleyways. He was already hopelessly lost amid the labyrinth of cobblestone and ramshackle houses. It was damp here and his fur itched. He couldn't have been in this world for more than three hours and already he missed Sandover Village – at least the sand there didn't scrape the skin from his paws.

After Jak had been dragged off by the killjoys in red and that freak with the funny blue skin affliction Daxter had been forced to beat a hasty retreat and given the over-sized lobsters who had come after him one nightmare of a chase. He had listened to them curse 'that damn possessed rat' as he had crouched inside a drainpipe, waiting for them to give up and go away.

"Stupid green eco totin', log noggin!" Daxter growled as he gazed longingly at the open door of a bar. He had tried to get some grub earlier and had almost been crushed under the boots of panicking clients screaming about Dark Eco monsters. "It's his fault I'm stuck here! He could've at least stayed around to suffer! I'll bet he's back in that house of his enjoyin' the breeze and-"

"Is that rat talking?" The harsh voice of one of the ill-tempered butchers in red sounded over Daxter's head. "Didn't Erol say look for a talking rat?"

"I dunno," one of the men crouched and peered down at Daxter, who swallowed hard – he doubted his mouth would get him out of this alive. "Looks more like a ferret to me. Why's the Baron got the Krimzon Guard pulling animal control, anyway?"

"Something to do with that asteroid that hit earlier today. I heard they got some blonde kid locked up at – OW!" Daxter jumped out of the way as the Guardsman toppled forward. There was a loud blast and the roar of an engine.

"Underground forever!" The pilot of the zoomer howled as he sped away.

"After him!" The two Krimzon Guards began firing at the assailant, oblivious to the shrieking bystanders who were diving for cover. Daxter stood there quaking for a few moments before using all four feet to dive for the nearest drainpipe and use it to access a roof.

"Ok," he panted as he glanced out over the dilapidated square. The sheet tin used for roofing pattered under his tiny claws as he leapt from house to house. "Ok. Jak's locked up somewhere, Samos is probably kickin' it back in Sandover, and everyone here thinks I'm some kind of whacked out Dark Eco creature – things couldn't possibly get worse!"

"Kitty!" The excited shriek shattered Daxter's ears and the world took a turn for the inverted as two plump hands shot through a window and wrapped around his neck.

"I stand corrected!" Daxter choked as he saw the up-side down face of a small girl.

"Kitty can talk!" The girl gasped and brought him inside.

"I'm not a kitty, kid!" Daxter tried to pry himself from the girl's iron grip. This was so humiliating. "I'm an ottsel!"

"There aren't any ottsels, silly. They all died out a long time ago. How come you can talk?"

"'Cause it would be a sin against nature if a voice as prolific as my own were silenced. Now can you please leggo so I can breathe?" She dropped him to the floor and he lay on his back, chest heaving, relishing the sweet, sweet air through his – "Ugh! What is that smell?"

"What smell?"

"The stench so atrocious to my delicate senses, kiddo."

"You use big words," she giggled.

"Don't you smell anything?" It occurred to Daxter that his enhanced sense of smell was simply picking up every scent of offal wafting through the slums. Yet another sign that Samos had turned the Universe against him.

"I smell my mommy cooking dinner."

Dinner! His stomach curled and gurgled a gentle reminder that he hadn't eaten since breakfast, and that the meal had been interrupted by Kiera asking Jak and him to help carry her Rift Rider. Well, she had only asked Jak, but it was obviously a job for two fine, strong specimens of men such as he and Jak.

"Say, kid," Daxter leapt up onto the girl's shoulder and put a conspiratorial arm around her neck. "You don't think you could score me some of mommy's food on the down low, huh?" The memory of that morning's many boots zeroing in on his fragile form returned. "I mean, why not keep it quiet from mommy that you've got the world's only talking ottsel in your room? You can take me in for show and tell!"

"Ok, kitty!"

Daxter sighed. Food was a start. After food he would find Jak.

"Excellent work, Commander!" Baron Praxis clapped his beefy hand on the young man's shoulder as he strode into the sparse, sterile metal cell. He glanced down at the bruised body of the boy sprawled across the cot. "Force was required, was it?"

"He was," Erol paused as a sinister smile crept across his face. "Uncooperative when it came to questioning. I brought him here so that he could have your personal attention." Praxis stroked his beard and nodded.

"The question is what does one do with some . . .thing . . .that even the Metal Heads fear?"

"What would the Metal Heads have to fear from this boy?" Erol spat.

"I don't know, but their leader wanted us to keep him incarcerated - in addition to the shipments of Dark Eco." The pair left the cellblock with Krimzon Guard members snapping to attention as they passed. "I'll contact that freak immediately and tell it we've captured the thing. Ashelin tells me that she's been having more difficulty protecting the shipments from the mines lately."

"Baron Praxis, if you would only let me lead another assault on their nest I know I would win!"

"Your predecessor said the same thing!" Praxis turned and stared at the younger man. "And I foolishly led that charge." He rapped his knuckles against the metal plate that had been fused to his mutilated face. "Don't forfeit your rank and life as readily as he did. We require a new weapon and our last prototype in the Dark Warrior Program has failed like all the others."

"I don't see why that's a problem," Erol sneered and jerked his head in the direction of the jail block. "We have plenty of prisoners who'll never leave."

"Yes, but none of my subjects ever survive. Never mind that, I want you to concentrate on finding that child! It does me no good that his mother is confirmed dead. If that boy falls into the wrong hands it's inevitable that someone would challenge for the throne and we can not afford a power struggle with the Metal Heads at our walls!"

"Of course," Erol flushed. He had been the one to find and capture that blonde youth that had the Metal Heads so worked up, hadn't he? Would it kill the Baron not to mention that squalling brat of an heir for one day?

"With the Dark Warrior Program in doubt we're going to have to begin exploring other options." Praxis sighed and shut his good eye. "I hear you're favored to win the Class One Race again, Commander. It does a great deal of good for the people to see that the Krimzon Guard's finest is the best in the city. Supreme and invincible in all that he does . . .and permitted, of course, to imprison any real challengers."

"It's not an issue this year, there isn't a racer in this city I can't force off the track. And all the best mechanics already work for me."

Kiera gripped her arms tightly as she hurried down the broad stone avenues flanking shimmering canals. What kind of rotten luck was it to have the rift rider break apart and fling her alone into the future? She hoped that she was at least in the same time as everyone else. How could she have let this happen? How the hell could she have made such a grave miscalculation? None of her zoomers had ever busted apart on her before!

"Watch it, hot pants!" Someone shouted as he veered his green glider around her at the last minute. It was a miserably bulky creation and let out an ear splitting shriek as it ground against the corner lamp post. When she had come crashing unceremoniously to the ground the day before she had been unable to do anything for the first few minutes except gape up at the sky filled with all kinds of remarkable machines. Her zoomers back home simply couldn't compare to these technological marvels. It hadn't been until she heard people screaming and saw several red and heavily armed bikes zooming towards her that she had managed to tear her eyes from the sky.

"Watch where you're going next time!" She shot back as the driver began cursing at her. It had only taken a few hours before the magic of such advanced machinery had succumb to her mechanically inclined mind and she had gained a basic understanding of how the things worked. And since it was a public transportation system -well, surely no one would notice if she stole off into one of the quieter streets and sneaked a peek under the hood. Kiera had no doubt she would master the whole system within a month or two.

It was really something else, though, there wasn't anything comparable back in Sandover Village. A quick pang shot through Kiera's chest as she walked into view of some produce fields. They were the first green things she had seen since coming here and it had never occurred to her how much she could miss her home. Then again, she thought, it's not like I was expecting to get sucked into a time rift. How did Jak do that? She wasn't too surprised, however, that it had been Jak who had somehow activated the darn thing. There had always been something about him – he simply took to eco. And hadn't she screamed for him to do something? Where is he?

Her stomach growled suddenly and she longingly eyed the fields of vegetables. She groaned inwardly at the thought of how long she had been on her feet. This was a large city and it was probably going to take a while to find her friends and father. If she was going to eat, she was going to have to get a job.

"Missy is looking veddy hungry, yes? Want?" The large purple nightmare shot out from behind a tree.

"Lurker!" She shrieked and sprinted for the nearest available zoomer. It wasn't until she was in the air and looking back at the Lurker's shrinking figure over her shoulder, staring after her looking confused with a vegetable still held in its extended hand, that it occurred to her if the thing was going to attack she would be dead.

"I hate this place," she moaned as she turned a corner. "Who lets Lurkers run around free?"

As it turned out, the kind of city with no menial, low-paying jobs for the unfortunate who had dropped in from another time and place allowed Lurkers to work those menial, low-paying jobs as slaves. Everywhere Kiera went looking for an easy job she was met with either slamming doors, laughter or lewd proposals.

"When my boyfriend hears about this he's gonna kick your ass!" She hollered at the last one. Technically, Jak wasn't her boyfriend – they hadn't even kissed yet thank-you-very-much-Daxter – but she was certain he wouldn't let anyone talk to her like that! And if it wasn't for the fact that she was so hungry she was feeling faint, she would have used her wrench to knock out a few of the louse's teeth herself.

"Onin is wondering if Grubson next door is making faces at the young ladies again." Kiera started at the accented voice next to her ear. She spun, but no one was there. "Down here!" She looked down at the winged monkey covered in bright plumage and blinked. "Onin would like to know if you would care for a cup of tea?"

"Um, ok," Kiera stepped into the tent filled with a number of curiosities that strongly reminded her of her father's hut. An old woman peered out at her from under a blue hat with milky eyes and a warm smile. She managed a shaky smile and sat as Onin gestured towards a pillow.

"I am Pecker," he shot her a look that silenced any question or remark she might have made about his unusual name. "And I am Onin's familiar. She welcomes you to our world and hopes that your journey through the rift was not too perilous."

"How did she know I came through the rift?" Kiera gaped as a cup of tea materialized next to her. She drained it in a swift gulp and didn't notice it refill instantly.

"She just knows, kid, ok? Onin also says not to worry about your father, he is fine. And Jak is in very capable hands right now so you don't need to worry about him – "

"You know where Jak is? Tell me!"

"Yes, she knows where Jak is, but not the Jak you are looking for!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"She also knows that you are Samos' daughter and are looking for a job. You are good with the flying machines, yes?" Kiera nodded, eyeing the strange creature. "She says that you have two options in this city then. Number one, you go and work for the Department of Transportation and fix broken down wrecks, very boring." Onin was shaking her head with a look of disproval as Pecker spoke.

"What's the second job?"

"Onin says that you like making things go very fast and suggests that you seek employment at the city's arena where the races take place. The pay is good and there are many connections to be had that might help you find your friend Jak. Onin also says it's not that she doesn't think you aren't perfectly capable of finding your own job, but she hopes this will move things along."

"Move what things alon-"

"Onin says she must rest now. She is a very old woman and needs her sleep. She hopes you enjoyed the tea, and bids you think about working at the arena," Pecker abandoned his perch on Onin's head and began pushing Kiera toward the door. "Have a good day."

Kiera blinked as she was thrust out into the sunlight. What the hell was wrong with this place?

Onin watched as the girl peered back over her shoulder before shaking her head and striding away into the market place. Pecker was muttering to himself about meddling with destiny and how he didn't understand what all the fuss was about and if the boys looked half as unimpressive as the girl then why was he wasting his time with all of this and where was his dinner anyway didn't she know he was famished –

Onin shut her eyes and released her mind. She smiled. If Samos could sacrifice his beloved city and vanish into the quiet world of history then the least Onin could do was help his ward make her way. The girl was independent. No surprised, she had obviously taken after her adoptive father. It briefly crossed Onin's mind to sift through time and discover the girl's origin, but she decided against it. That was Samos' business and he would return an accomplished Sage of Green Eco. Perhaps she would ask him one day, in the meanwhile she had a meeting with The Shadow for which she needed to prepare.

Torn had, of course, heard all about The Shadow from the members of the Underground he had broken. He figured that he was the most likely out of any Krimzon Guard member to find the mysterious leader of the rebels, and prayed that the measures he had taken to erase all of his files would keep it that way for a long time. He was through with the Guard.

As Torn made his way from the sleek, streamlined towers that marked the wealthy part of town he found himself incapable of meeting anyone's eyes. It had been building for over a year. It had started after he had seen a buddy who he had gone to the Academy with neatly sliced in half by one of the larger breeds of Metal Heads. No, he sighed deeply. It had started when he had been ordered to execute a citizen for the heinous crime of bumping into one of the Krimzon Guard's zoomers. The citizen had resisted arrest and tried to hide under the walkways of Watertown.

And after this week . . .

Being assigned to oversee the slavers hadn't helped the queasy feeling that settled his stomach like a sack of sand every time his radio beeped. Hearing Ashelin's political views slowly – oh how slowly – grow increasingly conservative until she sounded almost exactly like her father.

Ashelin. They had attended school together – met in the Junior Krimzon Guard and both encouraged each other in their mutual quest to serve as officers. They had attended the Academy together and set the damn curve for the other students. Their youth had been spent practically shoulder to shoulder, pouring over books on tactics (her study) and logistics (his study) or debating the finer points of earlier attempts to terminate the Metal Heads. When they received their commissions there had been a formal party to celebrate. Ashelin had dragged him away to stand outside the ballroom – she knew how he despised dancing. They had leaned over the stone balcony and stared at the city – and he had watched nothing but her mouth as she spoke of her dreams for a better future . . .

Her father, for some reason, saw to it that they never served together after that. Torn grimaced as the clouds cracked and a gray drizzle began. The Baron needn't have worried. Torn felt that personal feelings should never get in the way of a professional soldier. Besides. Ashelin had never displayed overt interest in him. Not in that way.

But she would be furious with what he was about to do nonetheless.

"If I have to die," he muttered, "I want it to be her who does it." That would be a soldier's death. And even if he was turning his back on the Guard and the atrocities it committed, he was still a soldier. And The Shadow could certainly use soldiers.

The only question was would they trust him with these damn tattoos on his face? He had to hand it to the Baron, that was a damn ingenious way to ensure that any defectors had a hard time switching sides. Hell, hadn't he found the broken bodies of Guard members suspected of trying to join the Underground? But he had contacts and knew some names and half the code words. He had valuable information that they could use.

Torn knew he was worth his salt. And anyway, after what he had done - he deserved to die.