Author's note: Anyone sick and exhausted by these cliffhangers, yet? Almost done, I promise. Almost. Muhahaha… well, I'm quite pleased to see that I've been vague enough to leave some people in the dark about just what Maia is up to. To those who have made correct guesses, salutations!

Chapter 8, Chaos

After a lot of climbing, blasting and swearing, the semi-allied forces of wastelanders and Haven soldiers reached the plateau.

"The hell is that?" was the first sentence spoken as the goal finally was reached.

As more people got their sights on the heap of tentacles, similar comments were made.

"We thought it was some goober-stuff Dark Maker thingy," Daxter said, "Seem said…"

"Doesn't look like the thing that dropped on Spargus," Kleiver said.

He stepped closer and poked at one of the brown limbs with his Peace Maker, ignoring Veger's loud warnings. There was no reaction from the strange contraption, apart from a dull clonking sound when metal met the dead, dry material.

Torn took a few steps closer to the pulsating center of the mess for a closer look, when there was a sudden "Eep!". He turned his head to see Veger caught in Kleiver's giant hand, nearly having his black little nose squashed against the nearest tentacle. What a refreshing sight, but it would have been funnier at any other time.

"Ye should know about these things, midget, have a look!" Kleiver ordered.

The ottsel shook his head, but a warning squeeze informed him of his options. With a vision of disgust painted across his fuzzy features, Veger reluctantly reached out and put his small hands on the abomination. He tore away far quicker, moving as if it had stung him.

Not even the most pathetically pleading look in the world could keep Kleiver from snarling at his "partner", who gulped. The small hands reached out again, blindly fumbling across the uneven surface as Veger clenched his eyes shut.

Behind the two, other wastelanders and some of the soldiers gave other tentacles suspicious pokes, knocking harder when nothing happened. Torn finally snapped at his troops to cut it out.

After a few moments of research, Veger lifted his hands away in a bit more calm manner. That meant that he ripped away with a little more style.

"It's dead," he said, "I believe that the dark eco it contained has been sucked dry."

"Charming. What's next?" Daxter called from Sig's shoulder, "metal head vampires?"

"Rat," Torn said, pinching his eyes closed to fight the mental images, "shut up."

Daxter did not. But at least he changed the subject.

He stood up, pointing towards the slimy lump of pulsating… something in the middle of the nest.

"Anyway, I think Maia went down there," he said.

"That ain't looking dead if ye ask me," Kleiver said, eying Veger with some suspicion.

The religious ottsel vigorously shrugged, waving his arms about as he tried to form a coherent sentence of explanation or excuse. It seemed like he had some difficulties concentrating properly with his boss glaring at him like that, however.

He was saved this time. However, the one who had to perform such a dirty deed would never admit to having done it.

"Let's just blast that thing," Torn said, waving his hand impatiently at the glop.

Hearing such a bright idea from a lesser sissy of a Haven inhabitant, Kleiver reached for his shoulder and plonked Veger back onto it without a second thought. Sig had already raised his Peace Maker, nodding at the other desert warriors to do the same.

Within moments the angry buzz of charging weapons fizzled through the hot air, fingers hovering on the triggers as the power caused the arms to vibrate dangerously.

"Now!" Sig shouted and fired.

The combined flares forced everyone to turn away.

In the explosion of raw power hitting living tissue, all other sounds were drenched. All the bubbling and snarling of surviving metal heads below, footsteps recoiling and curses as the intense light burned eyes – but several of the warriors could later swear that they had heard a piercing, inhuman screech of agony behind that deafening boom.

Even as the flares were still jumping before the elves and ottsels' eyes the tentacles cracked and the entire creature- thing lumbered backwards. Dry, hardened limbs broke apart with a sound similar to big, snapping twigs until finally the entire body lost its dead hold of the plateau. It fell, crashing through several platforms on its way towards oblivion.

Nobody saw it hit the lava, but the heavy splash was enough. A violent fizzling rose up from the depths and tore at every last ear for several seconds until finally it ended in one final hiss.

Long before the Dark Maker had met its overdue end, boots clattered against the expanse of the plateau to reach the freed area.

They had not gotten halfway before a dark shape shot upwards from the other side of the area, huge wings cracking at the hot air in the glow of a skull gem as the metal head rose higher and higher.

Daxter's face twisted into a snarl as his big eyes narrowed at the flyer. It looked no different than any other fowl beast he had seen during all his journeying with Jak, but somehow he just knew that this was the one that had brought his friend up to the plateau earlier. It took him an extra moment to realize that it carried something this time as well.

Before the ottsel could identify the full image however, the metal head folded its wings and dived, hungry beak opening up in anticipation of elven flesh.

The shot from a Blue Guard's gun pierced its left wing and it was thrown out of balance, screeching in pain and rage. But its protests were cut short as a hail of bullets ripped through its body and it crashed on the plateau in a dissolving heap.

The lumps of dark eco slid away from bones, skull gem… and the item the bird had carried.

It was a familiar thing, colored very much like a precursor's fur. It dully scraped against the ground as Sig silently picked it up, shaking it to get rid of the last specks of eco. He surveyed it without a word, the same silence hanging over the entire group. The leather straps hung limply from the piece of armor, the lifeless swing not so much natural as appearing ominous. They should be keeping the protective gear in place against an arm.

Finally Sig spoke up.

"Anybody else gettin' the feeling we're invited to a party?"

"Let's bring the fireworks."

And with those words Torn marched the last few yards to the partly smashed edge of the platform, his soldiers obediently following him. Sig almost smirked, fastening the piece of armor on his belt for safekeeping. But only almost, because his mood was still sinking. It was also difficult not to notice that Daxter had remained quiet for a very long time. As he crossed the expanse of rock Sig offered the little guy a glance.

"Hey, don't sweat it, cherries," the wastelander muttered, "if chili pepper can't stay alive for five minutes without our help I'll lock him in the gun course until next month."

Daxter squared his shoulders and tried to relax his face a little.

"Five skull gems says there ain't a single beastie left alive when we get down there, anyway," he offered, "Jak's probably made creep mince outta the lot of them already."

Sig's lips stretched briefly, but fell back into two thin lines far too quick.

They both knew that "alive" was not the thing they worried about.

As it turned out upon closer inspection, the Dark Maker body had been resting on a protruding part of the cliff. Now that the abomination was out of the way, nothing obscured the big hole in the rock, silently gaping up at the elves. It was curved, leading into the cliff itself.

Another invitation.

Again glances were exchanged, and the results were the same.

Something along the lines of "Yep, we're walking straight into a trap. You got any better ideas?".

Other ideas would have been highly welcome, but not expected. At least not since Daxter had kept from complaining so far, and nobody cared about Veger's opinions.

The new pathway was studied for a moment, and pondered. Once again there was an annoying amount of stone in the way to properly see if and where there were enemies waiting. Finally Torn grunted something and looked around.

"Any volunteers?" he asked.

It said a lot about the intelligence rate of the S-class soldiers that they remained wisely silent. Torn glared at them and was about to turn to the wastelanders, when Kleiver stepped forwards and peered into the hole below. It could not be worse than a fall of a couple of yards. He stretched his arm out.

"Go have a look, will'ya," he said and let go.

"Nononono-nooo!"

The wail disappeared into the darkness and echoed for a few more moments until finally falling silent. The people remaining on the plateau waited.

"He's useful after all," Torn said eventually, "who would've thought…"

"S'all a question of makin' use of what ye've got," Kleiver said.

They exchanged eerily similar smirks for the briefest moment. Then the wastelander cupped his massive hand beside his mouth and shouted at the hole.

"Oy! Ye still alive, rat?"

"You are all despicable brutes!" came Veger's echoing reply from below.

Kleiver made a thumbs up at the rest of the team.

The hole was quite spacious, so it was no trouble for any of them to climb down and make it inside. Once down there they also found that there was enough space for three men to walk beside each other, standing straight.

However, outside the reach of the sunlight from above, utter darkness ruled the tunnel. The two groups assembled by the entrance to deal with this before pressing on into the unknown.

"Switch to night vision," Torn ordered his part of the troops.

A choir of "Yessir!" and hollow pokes of metal gloves against inner buttons of helmets answered him. He let them handle that on their own, himself donning a pair of goggles for this purpose.

Ashelin could chew him out as much as she wanted, he absolutely refused to wear that kind of helmet again. Way too many bad memories. From his experience it very seldom mattered whether or not you wore a helmet, either way. Metal heads had harder fangs.

And the bastards liked to prove it, too.

When the equipment was in place he turned to check on everyone else, studying everything in a shade of grey. Most of the wastelanders had donned similar goggles, but the few who like Sig had one artificial eye simply waited for everyone else to finish. Daxter gave Torn a helpless grin, shaking his head while looking up at the gear adorning his fuzzy forehead.

Useless. Ah well. Not like he would be fighting.

Speaking of ottsels, it seemed that Veger had clambered back onto Kleiver's shoulder. While pouting, he had probably reached the conclusion that if he stayed with those people who he hated oh so much, he at least had a chance to surviving.

Now why he would like to keep on living considering the miserable state of his existence would forever remain a mystery.

Once everyone had signaled that they were ready to continue, Torn and Sig exchanged nods and took the lead, weapons ready to fire at the faintest sign of even a claw.

The steps echoed around the warriors as they walked straight into the void, the smell of gravel and dust filling their nostrils. The scent of sulfur was still there, but by now they had gotten so used to it that it went past unnoticed. It was a bit hard to tell with the situation they were in, but it seemed that the tunnel tilted slightly downwards.

It was Torn who spotted the next clue first, after a few minutes of nothing happening.

"Hold it," he said and raised a hand.

The voice seemed to hang in the air longer than any step, held captive by the echo for several seconds before it finally died down. Torn continued forwards a few more paces, Sig just behind him.

He sighed with frustration as he hunched down and picked up what laid on the ground.

"What is it?" Daxter asked, squinting at the nothingness in front of his nose.

But he had already heard the familiar sound.

"Jak's other gauntlet and shoulder guard," Torn replied.

The commander straightened up and handed the armor to Sig, who gritted his teeth as he added them to the first piece already hanging by his belt.

"I'm getting a feeling that bitch is trying to tell us something," Torn said, hands clenching around his gun.

He raised his hand and waved at the others over Sig's shoulder.

"We're moving on!"

"Yessir…"

Torn turned around and almost had to jog for a few steps before he caught up with the long strides of the far taller wastelander.

"Yeah," Sig muttered, voice carried to everyone by the echo, "she's telling us to come and join the fun."

This time, Daxter gulped audibly.

"We're moving pretty straight towards poppy's beacon," Kleiver said from behind.

His receiver clattered against his armor as he put it away again.

"Jus' hope we ain't moving beneath the lava," he added.

Agreeing murmurs rose up from various places of the troop, but after that they continued in silence.

Nothing came at them. Not a single metal head attempted to stop them from reaching their goal. It was unsettling, for every step forwards driving the tension further into every last skull. That was why, when Sig suddenly spoke after a far too long silence, almost everyone either jumped or at least tensed.

"Do you smell that?"

Armored chests crashed into armored backs as the group came to an uneven halt, but in between the swearing came the sounds of quick sniffs.

Sulfur, dry dust… and something oily.

"Hmm…"

Kleiver reached out and his thumb scraped the nearest wall.

Torn turned around and raised his eyebrows, turning just in time to see the scarred wastelander remove his finger from the wall and give it a quick sniff before briefly pressing it against the tip of his tongue.

He spat in the next moment, giving his mouth a violent wipe with the back of his hand.

"Dark eco," he concluded, "ugh…"

"I… don't wanna know…" Daxter muttered.

Sig took a few more steps forwards and narrowed his unseeing good eye at a spot further ahead.

"Here we go again," he said and walked over.

Third time's the charm. Even for the sound of precursor metal against rock.

"Leg armor."

Sig stood up, but did not turn around even as the steps of the others closed in.

There was a silence.

"You don't think-" a voice lined with static started up.

"Don't even say it!" Daxter snarled.

"Regardless of any personal opinion, the evidence is not in your friend's favor," Veger said from the darkness behind the veteran ottsel.

Daxter spun around without thinking, somehow managing to keep his balance despite being unable to even see the shoulder he stood on.

"Shut up!" he shouted.

But Veger had warmed up to this rant. One could even hear a hint of his trademark smugness as he went on while the echo of Daxter's protest still hung in the stiff air.

"Let me add that considering what the sage theorized, it would be favorable to think him dead-"

Another voice cut him off, this one too far above normal conversation level. It was distant, raw; carried to them via the echo and pounding at the surrounding walls. Distorted by its journey between the rocks, difficult to make out from within itself – but simple enough to be recognizable.

"NO–NO–No–no–no…"

"Jak!"

Daxter's call would have been more relieved had the distant scream not been so apparently filled with dread.

To hell with being careful.

Boots thundered against stone as the soldiers and wastelanders alike dashed down the tunnel, towards the source of the screech. Because every last one of them knew that if there was anything in the world that could make Jak scream like that, they were all in deep.

And those were not any nice mental images playing in everyone's heads.

The change when it came was not too surprising. With the night vision equipment those in the lead saw the end of the tunnel pretty well before they actually reached it. There was also that rising level of illumination, quickly taken in by Daxter's light-hungering eyes. Veger received the same treatment within moments, whether he liked it or not. As usual, of course.

And he most definitely did not like it, since the reason for the light turned out to be an entire lake of dark eco, filling the entire back half of the area.

The echo turned a lot more hollow, clattering dully throughout the great cavern as the final soldier left the tunnel and stopped behind his tense comrades.

It was eerily glowing, moving darkness against normal darkness as the ceiling disappeared into obscurity, out of reach for the non-light and night vision both.

Two things stood out in the scenario however. One would be Jak's chest armor lying discarded in the middle of the floor, the other a distant speck of lighter colors on the other side of the lake. Before this last thing could be identified however, the nightmare kicked into action.

Something stirred in the lake, a large enough movement to be caught even by the two ottsels' still adapting eyes.

It was huge. And it broke the surface, a pillar of darkness rising up from the heart of the oily slime. Guns were raised as their owners struggled against the alarming bells going off in their minds, the ones screaming at them to run for their lives.

There was not only one lonely gasp as the sludge slipped down the pillar in thick rivulets, dripping back into the lake from fingertips unconcerned by the filthy substance.

Maia smiled, giving her neck an easy twist that slouched the eco-drenched hair in heavy locks against her back and shoulders.

"Looking for something?" she asked, gazing down a them with dark eco still clinging to her face.

The first shot went off, but she was already diving towards the bubbling surface of the lake. And a wall of darkness rose up against the shots that followed the first one, bullets smashing into scales harder than steel and falling into the dark eco slouching about the monstrous length of the body. More arches of scales and muscle surfaced and the single grey point remained in the safety behind them.

The Peace Makers went off, flares exploding against the defensive matters. The black curves swayed slightly upon the impacts, but no more than that.

Silence fell as several of the warriors, even wastelanders, took an insecure step backwards. The useless fire died down.

Torn looked over his shoulder, quickly motioning at the lake and then drawing an imaginary circle around his own face. He finished with a slitting motion of his horizontally held hand against his throat.

"We have to wait and aim for a weak spot!"

Teeth were gnashed, but even Kleiver gave a small, reluctant nod in approval. Veger had hit the ground by the feet of his "boss", looking more dead than alive. Hyperventilating was just the beginning.

"What, giving up?" came Maia's voice from the nest of her own tail.

The grey flitted about just out of sight, now and then hinted at between the slouching curves that protected her.

Torn glared at the monster, eyes narrowing even further as she laughed. From the way she acted it was apparent that she wanted to keep her gray end out of danger, but with the distance and her defenses it seemed impossible for them to do something about it. They needed a distraction to draw her ou-

"Ah, good ol' Maia, still using waaay too much mascara. Anybody ever tell you about restraint, lady?"

Daxter's voice cut through the air, its casual tone screaming against the heavy breathing of his allies. The sudden intrusion almost caused Torn to jump.

Maia moved her grey body up into a sprawl against an arch of her tail, cheek resting on her own scales as she watched the cautious group. They saw only glimpses of this as the rest of her continued to roll past to keep her safe.

"Huh, I see you're still around too, boy. Still as small and fuzzy, too. Now we only miss the sages and that girl."

Her eyes hardened slightly and she waved over her shoulder at the back of the cavern. The speck of color from the other end of the lake moved closer, and teeth bit down on lower lips.

"I'm afraid that Gol can't join us, however," she said, "it seems your hero here already killed him."

It was Jak, heavily reclining against the darkness surrounding him. Everything beneath his chest was engulfed by two coils of Maia's tail, carrying him dangerously close to the dark eco. As his name rung through the air he tried to straighten up, but his movements were sluggish. Not too good.

But despite this there was a collective sigh of relief among the warriors. He might not look quite healthy, but they had been prepared for far worse things than what was before them.

Well, Jak-wise. Maia was still a bit more than they had been prepared to chew.

However she was focusing on Daxter so intently that she did not notice that Jak continued to move as soon as she looked away, shaking hand rising up and disappearing beneath his scarf.

Daxter licked his dry, furry lips. Remembering how to crack a joke had never seemed this difficult before.

"Oh, too bad," he said, speed picking up just slightly, "his respiratory problems really would have added to the atmosphere."

Hesitant, frustrated glances were flung his way, but he never bothered about them.

Jak's hand came back, weakly sliding down his shoulder and chest. He caught the fist in his other hand, trying to steady the grip.

The grey lips belonging to Maia stretched a little, the corners dangerously tilting upwards.

"Those ceased to be a problem," she said, "you see, you knew Gol as Kor a short while ago. Ah…"

She watched in bemusement as nervous glances were exchanged among the troop. Especially Daxter's loud gulp was duly noted. Maia smiled.

"… I heard a little bird whisper that the green sage already theorized about that," she said.

Despite the rising panic Daxter tried not to let his gaze flit between her and Jak, or she might notice- don't let tension into voice, don't let tension into voice, don't let-

By now the ottsel was no longer the only one noticing that Jak was up to something, and even if the distance and dusk obscured the details the warriors had seen that kind of movement enough times to know it by heart. Sig and Torn exchanged brief glances, brains trying to calculate the chances.

Maia's main body was quite far away, and from Jak's stiff motions it was apparent that he might not be able to aim properly.

Daxter gulped, but summoned a drawl with all his might.

"I don't get you," he said, "personally I'd rather have troubles breathing than being the world's biggest caterpillar and worm."

What would have been Maia's retort drowned in a screech of pain as a shot rung out. She arched backwards in agony but somehow managed to dive behind the protection of her tail before new explosions tore into the air, bullets and flares of energy once again smashing into her scales and falling flat against the protection. Curses filled the cavern – she had been clutching her left shoulder.

"Shit…"

Maia's entire body rippled and Jak slumped forwards, Keira's gun slipping from his grip and into the dark eco as his prison violently slouched closer to the shore. But within a moment he groaned as his head was torn upwards by his hair, slit eyes staring up at the furious face above him.

Dark slime slobbered across the expanse of her back and chest, covering almost her entire left arm. No pain remained on her face, only fury.

Mercilessly, Jak's eyes were drawn towards the green glow in the corner of his vision while Maia's voice broke through the gunfire.

"Oh, boy… you are going to wish you had aimed that at yourself."

The tube of green eco hung between her fingers, pressed down by a large glass ball filled with the olive colored substance. Letting go of his hair she drew back and flung the containers through the air.

Surprised calls rose from the rescue team as the glass smashed and the life giving eco flowed across the stone floor.

Cold fingers curled beneath his eco ring and despite the protesting snarl Jak was lifted into the air, finding himself face to face with Maia's manic eyes.

"It's just a theory, really…"

Her breath ran across his lips, her fangs a mere inch away. He clutched her grip, tried to jab his fingers at her face to break away. The dark eco bubbled beneath his feet, but even its hungry embrace seemed like the better option.

"Do a good trick for me, boy. And kill or be killed."

The world spun around, and he only heard his own shout just before he hit the ground and his mind exploded with pain. At first, it was only every nerve in his legs sending flares up his spine until they tore into his brain like claws, but within moments his skin picked up on the shattered pieces of glass breaking through. Blood spilled onto the ground beneath him, but all the while it was just the beginning. Cuts on his hands, bare arms and cheek, but it was nothing-

"Jak!"

He heard familiar voices shouting his name.

That was when the real torture began.

Green filled his vision. Once it had been a welcome sight, he had known it would have soothed the pain he now felt. But now it was dirty, coming at him like green smoke.

Green smoke smell of decay cold walls cold hands cold table against my back static laughter hands hands grabbing tearing no precursors no don't touch me-

It would not heal. It slithered across his body, seeping through his clothes and skin, filled his veins with burning sludge on its way towards his heart and head.

Screaming.

Screaming like he had not done since Praxis had him strapped on the table beneath the scalpels and needles covered in blood and eco.

Every muscle tensed and bent, forcing him up on his knees even though the legs too screamed – back arching as he clutched the top of his head, searching for a way to stop the cracking. No matter how loud he screamed, the splitting sound just got louder and his hardening skin brushed the horns sprouting through his hair, claws clashing against the smooth surface breaking his skull. The horns were bigger than they should have been, cutting the goggles apart. The heavy strap fell from his head and crashed on the ground, the red glass shattering.

"Jak!"

The warriors rushed forwards, all they saw being the green eco covering the writhing body, hearing the scream rise as Jak suddenly raised up on his knees despite the broken leg, the teeth exposed by his roaring rapidly becoming far longer and sharper. His skin lost all color, but the moment it turned gray it switched again, deepening at an alarming rate towards pitch black. For a fleeting second it seemed like he was merely taking on his dark form, but it went past it and continued towards a whole other level.

He was flung forwards again and feet stopped dead in their tracks, jaws dropping in horror at the sight before them.

His clothes screeched and ripped to shreds, falling to the ground around him to join the broken goggles. With violent pings the buckles of the straps holding his eco ring snapped and hit the floor.

Jak heaved himself up on his arms, and when he did his head was at the same level as Sig's – something the blonde never had managed before even when standing up straight. He was growing, proportions twisting outwards in violent spasms while the black skin hardened, already beginning to reflect what little light there was.

A set of fingers grown far too big to look normal came up again, their metallic ends scraping against one of the light sources as Jak fumbled, vainly trying to get a grip of it. The blue eyes still remained in his face, wide open in agony. Slimy threads of lingering green eco surrounded them as he turned towards the warriors, the scream fading into a desperate gasp for air that shook his entire body.

Jaw moved, two words wrestled out of his throat between the still growing fangs.

"Kill… me…"

And then he screamed again, howling at the men and women as they stood paralyzed before just the thing they had feared ever since Samos spoke of it.

Those eyes, looking perverse in the face of the growing monster, caught in the glow from above. The glow from the skull gem rising up between Jak's horns.

"Kill me!"