Listen, I love this chapter so much. I wrote part of it a long time ago, and I have just been WAITING to put it together.
Happy reading!

The Naughty Ottsel was, technically speaking, closed due to the owner being "on vacation". When Torn decided to set up an HQ there, it had been only Tess around, having made the upstairs apartment her own.

Evidently, she'd thrown out a lot of Krew's things. Truly, nothing of value was lost.

But Tess had made it clear: anyone from the Underground was welcome. They wouldn't get top-shelf service, but they'd get cheap drinks, decent bar food, and a (relatively) safe place to hang out. Which, of course, is why Jinx was always at the bar, drinking a beer and cracking jokes with one or more of his goons.

"Hey, red," he called as she entered. "Needin' a bit of the sauce?"

Ashelin ignored him and crashed into the booth, sighing heavily. Tess gave her an empathetic smile. "Long day?"

"You have no idea." Tess poured her a glass of whiskey and settled beside her. "I called a meeting of the council to see if we could send more guards to push out the metal heads in the slums. They denied it, of course."

Tess wrinkled her nose. "Of course. It's not like people live in the slums or anything crazy like that."

"I see their point from a strategic view," Ashelin sighed. "If we're going to throw manpower anywhere, it should be the agricultural district. The metal heads are starting to outstay their welcome."

Tess took a sip of her own drink, some kind of pink conconction that smelled like tart fruit. Before she could voice her thoughts, however, Torn burst through the automatic doors.

He was soaking wet, trailing dirty rainwater along the floor behind him. He flipped the hood off his head and grimaced as he sat down.

"Don't you look like shit." Ashelin passed him her drink and he downed it in two gulps. "What the hell have you been doing?"

Torn slid off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair, pulling some half-crumpled papers out of his pocket. "Breaking into Veger's apartment," he said. Ashelin glared at him. "Look, I know you're mad, but at least help me figure this out while you be mad."

He smoothed the papers out on the table between them. Both Tess and Ashelin leaned forward to look. "I found them in Veger's trash," Torn explained. "He'd hidden them in the bottom of the bin, and they just seemed…"

"Suspicious," Ashelin finished for him. "It definitely seems a little weird. Maybe it's in code?"

"Or some kind of cypher," Tess added, squinting at the letters. "Who sent it?"

"Some KG." Torn looked at the envelope he'd stolen. "One of the officers. Captain Fray."

Ashelin stood up to go to the control panel, the keys clacking as she searched his name. "I've met him a few times," she said absent-mindedly. "Marcus Fray…"

"Now, I know you ain't talkin' about Firebug Fray." Jinx spun around in his stool, his cigar clamped between his teeth. "What's that dumb bastard got to do with anything?"

"You know him?" Ashelin brought up a picture of him. He looked, if she was being completely honest, like every other KG she knew. Freedom League, she chastised herself.

"Oh, yeah," Jinx said breezily. "Fray's the one who supplied all of Krew's explosives. That big ol' mother that he mixed up at the Weapons Factory that, uh…backfired on him?" Jinx whistled and made a mock explosion. "Your boy Fray was the one who got him all the stuff. Makes it himself."

"Makes it…? Wait!" Tess snatched the papers off the table and brought them to Jinx. "Jinx, is this a chemical equation?!"

"A what?" Torn asked flatly. He raised an eyebrow at Ashelin who shrugged. "What are you talking about?"

"I knew this seemed familiar. It's gunpowder!"

Jinx blew a puff of smoke away from her. "Yeah, except this baby's more than just some powder. What'cha got here is a special kind of powder, with a yellow eco base and a red eco tip." He made a popping noise. "That's a big bottle rocket someone's makin'."

"Bottle rocket?" Torn glanced at Ashelin. "A rocket launcher."

"Like the ones that took down the palace." Her face twisted. "Jak said he attacked the palace. This must be the proof of it."

"I'll be damned." Torn took the papers back from Tess. "Where's Fray now? We need to find him."

"He's on patrol in the 600 block of the slums." She turned around to Torn. "What do you say? Maybe we should go have a chat with our friendly neighborhood firebug."

Torn smirked. "Great minds think alike."

The bar was pretty empty at this time of night. It was between the rushes, Daxter explained once: the day drinkers were packing up to head home, while the night owls weren't ready to get drunk yet.

Sig ushered Jak and Daxter to a set of stools at the end of the bar. He ordered drinks and, when they arrived, said, "Camillo, can you give us a bit of privacy?"

Camillo nodded silently, then found something to do at the other end of the bar. Sig turned to Jak and toasted him. "Alright, cherries. I can't tell you everything, but I'll give you what I can. What do you want to know?"

"What the hell is happening?" Daxter said immediately. Jak took a drink while his friend prattled on. "What's goin' on with Nurse No-Nonsense? And why are you actin' like it's a big hush-hush secret?!"

"Because it is." Sig sipped his drink calmly, the bottle clinking against the bar. "Look, that mission I mentioned in Haven City? You're technically not supposed to know about it. At all."

"Why not?" Jak demanded. "Why so secretive?"

"The only people who know why I went to Haven City are the members of Spargus' council." Sig shifted on his stool. "Damas keeps it that way for a reason. If word gets out and people know what I'm lookin' for, then there's a real good chance we're gonna lose it for good."

"Is it that important?" Jak questioned.

"Oh, yeah, it's that important. Damas and Ionna are tryin' to act like it's not, but it is." Sig took another drink, but kept his eye on Jak. "I was convinced that Praxis had what I'm lookin' for, but Ionna sees visions of it. According to her, it's hanging out the Wasteland."

"Oho! So that's why you were workin' for Krew." Daxter gulped from his bottle and burped. "Tryin' to scope out some important stuff, eh?"

"And that's why I'm headed to all the old Nomad settlements," Sig said, gesturing to the map on his belt. "I could use a couple 'o Wastelanders to keep an eye on things, make sure I'm covered if something happens."

Jak nursed his drink thoughtfully. "...I guess that would be us, right?"

Sig nodded. "And let's also keep this on the down-low with Damas, you hear? Technically speaking, I've been forbidden from going out into the Wasteland to search."

"Does anyone listen to the rules around here?!" Daxter screeched. "I swear, at this point, His Sandliness should just try reverse psychology on you two."

Ignoring Daxter, Sig kept his eyes intent on Jak. "If I tell you what we're looking for, I need your word, on your life, that you won't tell anyone. Especially anyone in Haven City."

Jak blinked. "Why not?" he asked, his question genuine. "Maybe they could help us."

"Because the folks in Haven might get some ideas about this…thing I'm lookin' for, and none of them are good." Sig reached into his pocket and pulled out his beacon. "You haven't earned your third battle amulet, not yet. But right now, I need your word that you're going to think like a Spargus citizen, not a Havenite."

Jak glanced at Daxter, who shrugged as if to say, Your call. Finally, Jak said, "Yeah. Okay, you have my word. I won't tell anyone."

Sig nodded, no sign of disbelief in his face. "Alright, then. I'll tell you."

He glanced around to make sure no one was listening. When he was sure they wouldn't be overheard, Sig continued, in a hushed voice, "I know you've got a good relationship with Damas and Ionna. Either of them tell you about their kid?"

"Yeah, Damas mentio—" Jak froze as the other shoe dropped. "Wait. Did you say their kid?"

Sig nodded. There was a beat of silence before Daxter threw back his head and started screaming, attracting the attention of the few lone souls in the bar. Sig shushed him, but Jak was too dumbstruck to be of any help.

"That's it! Give me your bottle!" Daxter scrambled to snatch Jak's drink up and downed it in a single gulp. "Not strong enough! Where's the bleach?!"

"Daxter, shh!" Sig grabbed the ottsel and slapped his hand over his mouth. "C'mon, stop the dramatics!"

Jak, meanwhile, had practically gone bug-eyed. "They have a kid together?" he asked. "Damas and Ionna? Are you sure?"

"No, I got my kings and medics confused. Of course I'm sure!" Sig rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We're gettin' off topic."

"Listen, big guy, I can be convinced of a lot of things." Daxter waved Jak's bottle around grandly. "Time travel? No problem! Mysterious city in the barren desert? Sure! But there is no way, absolutely no way, that you will convince me that His Highness King of the Lava and Dr. Glowstick had a thing goin' on. Nuh-uh. No way."

"They barely even talk to each other," Jak added. "How do they have a kid?"

"Aw, man," Daxter complained. "Now I gotta explain the birds and the bees to him, and you know he's not old enough for that conversation."

"You're younger than me!"

Sig snorted. "You and the furball think you've got a good friendship just 'cause you knew each other when you were kids? Damas and Ionna have thirty years behind them. They've been buddies longer than either of us has been alive." He took a drink and sighed. "And they've been through some shit, let me tell you."

"Obviously." Daxter wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, bleach isn't strong enough. I need a cup of the dark stuff. Shaken, not stirred."

Jak fiddled with empty cup. "Okay, so the two of them had a child, right? A son?"

"Yeah. And we need to find him." Sig leaned closer and lowered his voice. "A few years ago, he was kidnapped. I always figured that Praxis had nabbed him for some reason, but I could never find him. Now Ionna says he's in the Wasteland."

"That's good, right?" Daxter said. "He's gotta be around here somewhere! The desert's only so big."

Jak remembered Damas' face, one of sadness and loss, his voice filled with grief when he mentioned his son. "Yeah. We'll find him, Sig!"

Sig toasted them before draining the last of his own drink. "Here's hopin', cherries."

There were four things Praxis did the night of the coup.

The first thing Praxis did was cut the power to the palace. It hadn't been easy; luckily for him, there were a few workers in the Power Station that were more than happy to do whatever he needed, for a price. They'd agreed to have some "technical issues" in exchange for a few Precursor Orbs.

No lights, no communications, no escape elevators.

The second thing he did was rearrange the fortress. An entire floor, emptied of prisoners, just for Damas and his ilk. Praxis had worked out a strict schedule of guards, that only allowed a select few on that floor. No one would see them coming, no one would see them going.

The third thing Praxis did was also the most important thing: he started a riot.

It started as a protest, planned by a group of citizens who insisted that the eco rationing was actually just an excuse for the bigger businesses and the government itself to keep the lower classes down. A conspiracy, they called it. Class warfare.

It had been nothing at all for Praxis to catch a few of the officers and insist that they should "lay down the law." Don't be afraid to use force, he said. Those ruffians were a threat to the safety of the city. Whatever needed to be done.

All hands on deck. Antwon was forced to be out in the streets, directing an increasingly rowdy crowd. And even as respected as Antwon was, Praxis was more so. The guards would listen to him.

So by the time the sun was setting and Praxis was leaving Antwon's apartment, everything was in place. An escalating protest, and a king waiting to be dethroned.

Damas had known something was wrong, had felt it in his very bones. It was like the tide receding before a storm; all the servants, all the guards, everyone had disappeared by sundown. Leaving Damas alone in the throne room when everything went to shit.

The power snapped off. He stood up, sliding the flashlight off his belt. He clicked it on and it flared up, bathing the room in a too-bright glow.

Something was wrong.

He looked out the window onto the city below. It didn't look as though there were any other blackout zones; was the palace the only place that had no power?

Damas didn't know a lot about the power grids. He knew that the palace used several different ones, and that the fortress had its own dedicated grid. He couldn't think of any reason why the palace would suddenly lose power like this.

With a rush of air, the doors opened. Damas turned to shine the light on it, but was surprised to see only Ali standing there, a strangely blank look on his face.

"Ali! What's going on?" He went over without a second thought. "Is this because of the protest?"

Ali didn't answer at first. He just swallowed and said, "Hurry," before taking off down the hall.

"W-what?" Damas ran after him, their boots thudding on the carpet. "Ali!"

Ali ran through the palace, with Damas right on his tail. He wound through the halls and ducked through doorways, deeper and deeper into the darkness. Damas called for him, but he didn't even slow down.

Eventually, he led Damas to the dining hall: an elegant, empty room with only a long table in the center. Damas turned into the room…

…and was met by the barrel of Ali's gun.

"Ali?!" Damas had to take a step back to focus on the man, whose hands were shaking and eyes were wide and crazed. "Ali, what's going on?!"

"Do you know," Ali asked breathlessly, "what my brother's last words were?" Damas didn't know how to answer, but Ali didn't appear to want an answer. He continued, "He was praying. I was holding him, and he was bleeding everywhere, and he was…praying." Ali closed his eyes for a moment, mouthing the words. Damas had seen Ionna say them enough times to know.

The last rites. Yasir had been saying his own last rites.

"Ali, I'm -"

"Don't!" Ali jerked the gun in Damas' face. "Don't say you're sorry. The only thing I want to hear is you praying."

Damas swallowed. Ali was still glaring at him. Finally, the king tilted his chin up.

"I'll let my monks pray for me," he said quietly. "And let the Precursors hear my voice when I face them myself."

Ali's hands shook as he kept his rifle steady. He grimaced and yanked it away. "You and your pride!"

"What the hell is going on?" Damas demanded. "Ali?"

"..." Ali shouldered his gun. "Praxis. I'm supposed to kill you, and he's going to take the throne." He pointed to the doorway. "Go. Run. I don't care. Dammit, I should care, but…" He gave a dark chuckle and rubbed his face. "Yasir was too good of a role model. Get the fuck out of here, Damas."

Damas swallowed. Antwon had warned him, told him that Praxis was talking about things like this, but Damas had assumed it was his anger talking.

Now, he couldn't really deny it anymore, could he?

"...Thank you." He didn't wait for Ali to respond, taking off through the kitchen. He debated, for a moment, just running out of the palace, but he didn't really know where he could go.

Praxis was after him. His heart pounded in his chest as the realization hit. Ionna had been right, he had been betrayed. And he really couldn't blame anyone but himself.

There were voices behind him in the dining hall, getting closer. He straightened his back against the wall of the kitchen, near the doorway.

"What's going on?" Praxis demanded. "Ali, where is he?"

Ali was quiet at first, so quiet that Damas didn't hear him. Then, slowly, he started to raise his voice.

He was praying.

Before he could say anything else, actually respond or answer or explain, there was the sickening sound of bullets tearing through flesh. Damas saw a shadow pass by and peeked through the crack in the door.

Ali was on the ground. His eyes open but unseeing, his last act to protect Damas. The king stared at the slowly spreading blood, stuck in a terrifyingly real loop of death.

He was stuck, paralyzed, for a moment. His attention was taken by a loud sob from behind Praxis, a familiar voice.

"Shut her up!" Praxis snapped, and there was another loud sob. Damas felt his stomach drop and suddenly realized things were much worse than he had thought.

Because the fourth thing Praxis did was take Seem.

To those of you who guessed who Ionna was in, like, chapter 2 (it was lots of you, I was not subtle), you are now vindicated :)