Good day to you all, and I hope your life is treating you better than mine is. School's been a pain, and my chemistry teacher is going out of his way to flunk the entire class, namely by giving us practice tests to study by, and then presenting us with the real thing that has nothing whatsoever in common with what we spent the last three days reviewing over.

But my own school problems aside, I feel the need to reply to all of you who have reviewed.

Light Eco Sage- I'm glad you liked the chapter, and you're first guess was correct. As for the joke, well, expect Daxter to make more wisecracks of that nature in the future.

Something Stupid- Hmmmm, I never thought about such a possibility, and it actually has given me an idea for later on, for that, I thank you, and am glad that you have enjoyed my feeble attempts at a novelization.

Lunatic Pandora1- Hehe, expect to see Tall, Dark and Gruesome appearing more frequently in coming chapters. As for Kitetsu reacting as it did, all I can tell you is to watch and wait.

TUG- Actually, I got the idea for the tattoos from Final Fantasy Seven's SOLDIER program. Basically, they take a normal grunt trooper, pump him full of Mako (the lifeblood of the planet) and the end result is a warrior with superhuman strength, speed, vary degrees of healing factors, and the ability to use magic. SOLDIERs are all issued a tattoo type serial number and are also easily identifiable by their eyes, which have a neon type glow to them from the extensive Mako treatments. On other notes, I am glad that you like the direction that I am trying to take with Dark Jak. As far as sarcasm is concerned, that's Daxter's job, and Errol's enough of a sociopath for any three games. I'm also glad that you liked the flashback, and I think I'm pretty much going to dedicate an entire chapter to that memory later in the game.

Weiila- to even have a writer of your caliber read my story, let alone review it, is an honor that I do not feel worthy of. I'm glad that you think I'm adding a degree of realism to the story, as there were some things that really struck me as being odd in the game, things I would have done differently. (bows in humility) Also, I tried to e-mail you one of my rough drafts, since you said you'd be willing to give me some pointers, but it said something about you being over your storage limit.

Legal Crap- I no own, so you no sue.

&

Of Blind Seers, and Prophecies

Kitetsu sang and his blaster spat blue energy at the never ending tide of monsters. Still, they came, clawing, slashing, biting, desperate to tear him apart, desperate to kill him. His muscles, ached, his lungs screamed for air, and Dark Eco streamed from his many wounds. All the while, the larger beast laughed in its deep voice, mocking his futile attempts at survival. Screams tore his attention away, and he watched in horror as Keira, Daxter, and Samos fell to the hordes of Metal Heads. The distraction would prove fatal, as they were upon him before he could realize his error in judgment, bearing him to the ground and beginning to rend his flesh.

Jak snapped awake, weapons out. It took him a little while to realize where he was: still leaning up against the side of the transport. It had just been another one of his seemingly endless nightmares. As his breathing began to return to normal, he relaxed slightly, and looked around.

The sun was still down, so he couldn't have been asleep more than a few hours. Behind him, he could hear Torn swearing, followed by an electrical discharge of some sort. Muttering under his breath, he re-holstered his weapons, and moved around to see if he could assist in any way, if for no other reason than for the fact that they were sitting ducks out here.

"Glad to see you're awake, buddy." Daxter told him, while shaking with exertion from trying to hold up a part to a repulsor lift.

Jak simply nodded, and took the heavy piece of machinery from his diminutive friend. He held it steady wordlessly while Torn and Ashelin arc welded it back into place.

Finally, enough of the transport had been repaired to enable them to get the heck out of this place. Without further ado, they clambered in, and Ashelin piloted the dropship out of the area.

"You never told me what you were doing out here." Torn asked her, concern creeping into his normally iron hard voice.

"My old man's got us out on suicide missions looking for Mar's Tomb." She said bitterly. "He's crazy about finding any artifacts from his rule as well. Don't ask me what he wants with them, because I don't know. However, if you think curiosity is worth dying for, you might want to have a little chat with Onin."

"Who's that?" Jak inquired, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"She's a blind soothsayer, lives in the Bazaar sector of the city." Torn answered, his voice returning to normal.

Jak fell silent, musing over various courses of action.

A few minutes later, they were close enough to safely make it the rest of the way on foot. Her eyes glued to the various scanners, Ashelin set them down about a mile from the city gates, out of sight from the watch towers on the Shield Wall. Daxter clambered up onto Jak's shoulder, taking his usual spot on the small shoulder pauldron.

"Go on ahead, Jak, I'll catch up to ya." Torn instructed him.

Jak nodded, and then headed out, his eyes scanning constantly for the slightest hint of a Metal Head.

Fortunately, they seemed to be keeping their distance this day, possibly due to the unexplained appearance of some ashen skinned monster that cut them down like wheat on the previous one, and so the two made it back to the city without any trouble. Without hesitation, the elf stepped into an airlock, and made his way into the city, relieved to have come through that last ordeal alive.

For yet another time, this strange animal within him had saved him from severe injury, or possibly death. Yet, even now, after having it within him for months, he still knew virtually nothing about it. It was a mystery, an enigma. It seemed to have been born from the Dark Eco injections that he had been given over the course of his prison years, and yet, at the same time, there was something unmistakably familiar about it. Then there was its thought processes. It was an entity that was driven by instincts, bestial urges, but there were times when it seemed to be expressing a degree of understanding or curiosity that went beyond what animals were supposed to be capable of. So what did that make it?

The thought of the creature made it surface again in the dark elf's thoughts. It seemed curious once again, almost is if it was wondering what it was Jak wanted. This was strange, was it actually exhibiting…loyalty?

A shake of his head sent it back into the depths of his consciousness, and he and Daxter made their way back towards the base. If he was going to be out in public for an extended period of time, the least he could do to avoid drawing attention to himself was to have a decent set of clothes.

The Bazaar was a place of absolute chaos. The bitter chill of winter tore at his clothing, trying to find a chink in his protection to assault him as he navigated the bustling streets of hawking merchants who were trying to convince him that he couldn't live without a certain item that only they had in their possession. He longed for Sandover, with the population being a grand total of about forty, which meant that some peace and quiet was possible.

Eventually, he was able to "convince" one peddler that he was simply looking for a seer that supposedly lived around here. The man had quickly given him the information that he had needed, and Jak went on his way.

For once, he was grateful for his long clothing, irritating as it could be when he started to get heated up, it certainly was more effective in keeping the cold at bay. The cold winter air served as a reminder that it would be yuletide soon, a time of merrymaking and joy. At least, that was what it was for normal elves. For someone like him, it would be just another day in the wretched hell that his life had become.

When he at last beheld it, it was far from what he would have expected. Onin's dwelling was a simple cloth tent, just barely thick enough to keep in the biting chill of the air out. Steeling himself, Jak opened the flap, and stepped inside. Immediately, he was assaulted by a variety of different odors, all of which made his head swim. Daxter, however, was more interested in a dead monkeet that was hanging from a pole near the entrance.

"Cool, check out the dead stuff." he told his larger compatriot, poking the creature with his finger.

Revealing the monkeet to be not quite so dead after all. With a snap of its powerful jaws that nearly took off a few furry appendages, it bolted awake and glared balefully at the two standing in front of it.

"Touch the goods again, rat boy, and you'll be," he stopped in mid-sentence with a squawk, "counting with your toes."

"Ack!" Daxter said, and he bolted behind Jak's shoulder, visibly startled.

"Who are you?" Jak asked, turning his azure eyes upon the animal.

"The name is Pecker." the monkeet replied, earning him a couple of chuckles from the two in front of him. "Yes, yes, I know, my mother…she was very vindictive." he grumbled bitterly. "At any rate, I am Onin's translator, and very much glad that you have finally arrived."

No sooner did he finish, than he relinquished his tail's grip upon the pole, and flew over to a frail looking blind lady at the far end of the tent. Onin, Jak assumed, turned her sightless eyes towards him, and waggled her fingers about. Strange sparks flew from her fingers as she did so, creating a series of intricate designs in the air.

"Onin says, Greetings unto you, Channeler, and that it is good to see you once more." Pecker told him.

"But we've never met." Jak said, bafflement in his voice, and he also did not miss what she had called him.

Another short flurry of symbols, translated by Pecker, met his reply.

"She says, that's what you think."

"Just a par-boiled minute here," Daxter said, pointing an accusing finger at Onin, apparently forgetting that she couldn't see it in the first place. "Just how do you know what Jak is?"

Once more, the symbols flashed.

"I see many things that you cannot, as you are blind and ignorant despite your sight, oh formerly buck-toothed elf." Pecker translated, amusement lighting up in his eyes.

That effectively shut the Ottsel up.

"What do you know of the Baron, why is he after Mar's Tomb? What's so important about it?" Jak inquired as he crossed his arms.

Onin made some rapid gestures.

"The tyrant seeks the resting place of Mar because of the legends that surround it." The monkeet told him.

"Just who was Mar?" Jak inquired, changing the subject abruptly, something nagging in the back of his mind.

"I see Onin wasn't kidding when she said you weren't from around here." Pecker replied with a roll of his eyes. "Mar was the founder of this city, designed to be a haven from the Metal Heads. In his day, he was a mighty warrior, a Channeler in fact."

"He was a Channeler?" Jak said, unable to hide his surprise.

"Yes, to the greatest extent of our knowledge, the last of them upon this continent by that point in time." the familiar stated in an offhand manner.

"Why is that?" Daxter asked, confusion written on his features.

If there was one thing hanging around Jak all these years had taught him, its was that to bring down a Channeler, required one to have what might pass as a small army at one's back.

"The Metal Heads have hunted Channelers for the longest time, killing them without mercy whenever they could overpower one." Pecker translated.

"Why's that?" the dark elf inquired, wondering why these beasts would have a vendetta against what used to be his kind.

"They fear them, or rather, their leader fears them, for an ancient prophecy states that one of them shall be his doom." the familiar told him.

"Well, I suppose if that isn't motivation enough, nothing is." the Ottsel remarked, grinning cheekily.

Suddenly, Onin broke into another fit of signing. Pecker stared at the old lady hard for a moment, his look saying 'you have got to be kidding me, right', before shrugging and turning back to them.

"Onin requests to see the blade that you are carrying." He told Jak.

"Blade? I'm not carrying a blade." Jak stated uneasily, unconsciously registering the feeling of the katana strapped to his back, hidden under his coat, earning him more of those strange symbols.

"Onin says you are a terrible liar." the familiar sounded amused.

Hesitantly, Jak reached underneath the trench-coat he was wearing and slid the sword free of its scabbard. Slowly, he walked towards Onin, before extending the weapon, grip first, towards the soothsayer. She quickly snatched the blade, before running her fingers over it. Pecker, whose eyes till functioned, took one look at the katana, and let out an audible gasp.

"Yeah, yeah we know it's a nice shinny pocket knife, but I'm afraid we don't know where you can get your own, bird brain." Daxter said as he rolled his eyes.

The next thing that Jak was aware of was Pecker rapidly flying towards him like a miniature kamikaze pilot, and his blasting of Daxter off his shoulder. Within seconds, he was choking the life out of the poor rodent, and banging his head against the tent floor for good measure too.

"You, stupid, ignorant, shortsighted, fool of a rodent!" he said, continuing his assault with every word. "You do not even recognize the significance of that sword?"

"What are you talking about, why is Kitetsu so special?" Jak asked, as he pulled the monkeet off of his friend, holding him by the scruff of the next to ensure his fingers remained attached to their respective hands, while at the same time giving the bird the glare that was rapidly making him famous, or perhaps, infamous among the resistance forces.

"That katana is the very blade that Mar wielded throughout his life! The weapon that has been passed down through the ages of the royal family!" Pecker exclaimed, flapping his wings to emphasize his point.

"Then mind explaining how it wound up in Dead Town?" Daxter asked as he massaged his bruised throat."

"The blade was lost in battle when the last King, Damas Mar, fell leading an assault upon the Metal Head Nest. As for how it managed to get to Dead Town…well…you're guess is only slightly worse than mine." the familiar said with a shrug.

By this time, Onin appeared to be through with the sword, and placed it gently at her feet.

The former Channeler quickly released his hold upon Pecker, and walked over to the katana. He then stuck his foot under the blade, whereupon he used it to launch the blade up into the air, and into his waiting hand. While he was sheathing it, though, he missed the faint smile that came over Onin's face. The soothsayer may have lacked eyesight, but she was not deaf.

However, the smile faded as she resumed her normal form of communication.

"Onin says that you should know of this Prophecy concerning the fall of the Metal Head leader." Pecker faithfully translated. "Listen closely, as I am only saying this once, because speaking in all this mystic crap is not easy on the lips." Pecker said, before launching into it.

However, Jak never heard the words. Even as the monkeet went to speak, he felt his consciousness whisked away to another place. He couldn't make out much as far as the surroundings were concerned, but it was what was right in front of him that drew his attention.

Something, a life form of some kind, was floating in front of him, its multi-jointed legs hovering about six inches above the ground and its dreadlocks flowing from some unseen wind. From head to toe, black, angular armor covered it, while a strange pair of what appeared to be horn like protrusions came from off of its helmet. There was also a mirrored visor of a slightly lighter shade of black across where its eyes would be. Those eyes suddenly became visible behind the visor, glowing red, and a voice, deep and commanding, but at the same time, soothing, filled his mind.

And thus, a Fallen Angel shall become a Risen Demon. Out of Darkness shall salvation come, as the Shadows give birth to the Hora-quan's bane. Armed with the Sword of Kings, a scion of the Ancients shall strike down the enemy of all who live, and end the threat of an ages old menace.

As Pecker finished, the vision and voice vanished as suddenly as they appeared. Jak shook his head, what the heck had that been all about?

"Man, maybe I wasn't too off the mark when I called ya King Arthur, ey buddy?" Daxter said, earning him a stare from Jak and a look of utter disbelief as Pecker rubbed his head with his wings.

"Regardless of your fur ball companion's ridiculous statements, you have recovered a very important artifact. Kitetsu is indeed a blade of legend, supposedly forged from the knowledge of the Precursors themselves, and a weapon that until recently, was a symbol for Haven itself." the monkeet said in a superior tone as he composed himself.

"Interesting, and it certainly explains why I keep getting strange looks whenever someone sees me with it, but how does all of this apply to me?" the dark elf stated as he re-drew his weapon, gazing at what he now realized was a royal heirloom.

"Onin says that the Prophecy pertains to the son of Damas, young Alexander, who is, as you know, currently in the care of the Underground. She believes that you are an integral part to the Prophecy, and that you will assist the young prince his time of most desperate need." Pecker answered.

"That kid needs a better role model than me." the Eco infused elf responded, his tone as cold as an artic wind. "I'm no hero, so what would a soon to be one need me for?" He said, before pivoting about to leave.

Onin seemed almost sad, as she weaved the next set of symbols in the air.

"The people of Sandover would likely disagree with you, oh Conqueror of Fallen Sages." Pecker told the retreating elf.

Jak stopped, his feet apparently anchored to the ground. Daxter couldn't see his friend's face, as he was staring back at the soothsayer with a stunned expression on his furry visage. However, had he been able to, it would have no doubt shocked him. For a single, glaring instant, one of the elf's most painful wounds had been torn open, and his chilled exterior cracked, letting anyone who stared at him gaze upon the battered soul within. A single tear hovered at the edge of his eye, threatening to fall. However, the warrior soon composed himself, and it remained unshed.

Still, many stunned seconds passed, before Jak finally found his voice.

"Lady, you are seriously starting to freak me out." His voice was once again, icy, but the wise old woman could hear a small waver in it.

Once more, bright symbols leapt through the air.

"She says, "That is my job." Pecker responded.

The signing continued for a few more seconds, before Pecker sighed, and massaged his mouth.

"Onin tells you that your first task in assisting young Mar will be the retrieval of three artifacts from the local forest." he told them, before staring hard in the direction of the two. "You are to find three, not one, for that is two too few, not four, for that is one too many. You may collect two, but only in the process of going to three. Three, no more, no less, one, two, three." Pecker said, emphasizing his point with wild gestures of his wings.

"Yeah, yeah, we got ya, six artifacts," Daxter said, waving his hand dismissively before getting back up on his perch.

This had the humorous result of causing Pecker to screech like a shot bird, and fall back in a dead faint. However, a pulse of energy from the seer's hand soon jolted him back to full consciousness. He shot Onin a look, before proceeding to translate a description of the artifacts they were supposed to locate, as well as a general location for where they might be.

Jak just sighed and shook his head, before he became aware of Onin gesturing towards a sack of provisions in the far corner of the tent. Assuming that she meant for him to take them, Jak strode over and picked them up, before heading out of the tent, and back into the biting numbness of the frosty air.

Meanwhile, in the Haven Palace, Ashelin Praxis was furiously hacking away at a computer terminal. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, inserting wedges, spikes, and other such means of thwarting the high level security present in where she was snooping around. One of these days, she was going to have to weasel those pass-codes out of her old man.

For some time, she continued onward, before finally reaching her objective. Hesitantly, she clicked on the folder that she had finally pried loose from the depths of her father's most secretive files.

For a while she cruised through the series of theories, hypothesis, and simulated data…before she reached the folders of the test subjects. She clicked on the first one. It had a picture of an elf, his height and weight, eye color and other such things, and a scant bit of data that ended with a brief, cold sentence telling of his death by Eco Poisoning. The next was much the same, as was the third, and several more after that.

Disgusted as she was, the Krimzon Guard lieutenant growled in frustration. How was she supposed to find which folder had been Jak's? There were dozens of these things, and it was only a matter of time before some security protocol or another elf became aware of what she was doing. Then she realized something, the tattoo that the Underground fighter had on his chest, XXVI.

"They weren't letters at all," she breathed, "they were numbers!"

Quickly, she scanned down the list, and found the twenty sixth folder, before clicking on it. At first it was much the same, as the others.

Subject's First Name:Jak

Subject's Last Name:Unknown

Height (upon last folder update): 5' 10

Weight (upon last folder update): 140 lbs.

Hair Color: Blond-green

Eye Color: Blue

Age (upon last folder update): 18 (approx.)

Time spent within program: 2.3 years

It was the age, combined with a mug shot presumably taken when he had been "recruited", that disturbed Ashelin the most. He had only been a boy, a fact reinforced by the scared individual she saw in the photo. Mentally, she compared it to the face that she remembered seeing when he and Torn had come looking for her. His features were harder now, his eyes had a glare to them, his face a near constant scowl, testimony to his having survived one of the harshest places on the planet for more than two years.

Driven by a sickening curiosity, she pressed onward, reading more. Most of the data she didn't understand, and only knew that it had something to do with Dark Eco. Truthfully, she was confused. The other files that she had read had been those of adults, healthy, and strong, yet they had lasted a few weeks at best. So how had this mere boy survived?

The answer came with another entry into the databank.

Hypothesis was confirmed today, subject determined to have Channeling abilities. Experiments show that subject possesses abnormal power potential, even among historical Channelers. Therefore, it is likely that Eco concentration may be increased by 37.5 percent with next treatment without test subject suffering from any detrimental effects.

She paused, and read the line once more, letting it sink it.

"Oh, my, God…" she said softly.

Another Channeler, here, now? How was it possible?

Before she could contemplate on that much more, another small statement caught her eye. Bile rose in her throat and disgust filled her soul as she read the article. Apparently, her father and Errol had wanted their super soldiers broken and malleable upon their implementation, and thus the former had given the latter a very broad range of different "tutoring methods" to implement against the young boy. There was a flawlessly detailed list of near daily beatings as well as other techniques such as food and sleep deprivation, and one other type as well.

Suppressing a shudder, she skimmed over the rest of the file, before downloading it to a disk, and covering her tracks.

Torn and the Shadow needed to know this, and they needed to know it now.

Ashelin wasn't the only mole that was busy that particular night. A blond hair elf stared around the garage area of the Stadium, taking in the shadows that moved in the darkened courtyard. Once she was certain there were no guards randomly patrolling the area, she made her move. One would have barely been able to hear the footfalls the elf made as she scurried around to her target.

Within the garage, there was no light except for what was coming from behind that green curtain that hid whatever in the world it was her friend had been working on. The elf stepped inside, striding towards the barrier. She pushed aside the large curtain, starling the other elf, and nearly getting blowtorched as a result.

"Jeez, Keira, watch where your pointing that thing!" she exclaimed, leaping back away from the blue-hot flame.

"Keep it down, Tess, you want to let the whole neighborhood know I've got company?" the other elf hissed at her, switching the torch off and lifting up her faceplate.

"Sorry." both exclaimed at once, before rolling their eyes at each other.

"So, what brings you out here?" Keira asked, leaning against the strange contraption that she had been working on for the Precursors knew how long.

"The Shadow wants Torn to execute a raid within the next week, a little holiday gift from us to the local tyrant." the older elf responded. "Are you…you know…finished with them?"

"Yeah, but I haven't had a chance to field test one of them yet." The aqua haired elf answered, heading out of her work area and towards the stairs that led to her apartment above.

"Why not?" her friend asked, falling in step behind her.

"Well, for starters, if I where to try one out here, I'd be up to my neck in K.G. before my teeth even stopped rattling, and they're not infantry weapons, so if I were to go try one out on some Metal Heads as they are right now, the first time I fired, I'd blow my shoulder right out of the socket." Keira answered as she opened the door to her home. "I've got a mobile version in the works, but I'm still having some problems with the power source."

"I'm sure you'll have it figured out in no time flat." Tess said in an encouraging way.

"Let's hope so…" Keira muttered, trailing off as she reached a back room.

Withdrawing a key, the aqua haired elf, quickly unlocked the door, and pushed it open. Within it was another workshop, but this one dedicated towards building machines of a considerably more destructive nature. Weapon schematics and morph-gun mods were scattered about, while another gun, a long barreled rifle of some sort, sat on a workbench. However, what had brought Tess to her friend's residence at this ungodly hour was for something else.

They were lined up, all ten of them, in boxes at the far end of the room. Each package was about six feet long, and three feet wide, and if what Keira had been trying to accomplish was correct, probably weighed the better part of two hundred pounds.

Walking over to them, the young mechanic lifted the lid off of one of the crates, letting her friend see its contents. Tess had seen the designs and blue-prints of these guns, but to see them in person was something else, and she couldn't hold back an awed whistle.

"Don't start celebrating yet, I still don't know if they're going to work or not." Keira cautioned, earning her a nod from the other Underground soldier.

"We'll find out soon enough." Tess responded with a shrug. "Torn wanted me to make sure these were all ready, and then he'll have some people drop by in about an hour or so to pick them up."

Keira simple nodded, and remained silent.

Some time later, the young mechanic sat on her bed, staring at the wall. Two and half. Two and a half years since she had gotten stranded in this place, and so far there had been not one sign of Jak, her father, or even Daxter. She never thought she'd ever feel this way, but she was actually missing that orange rodent, if for no other purpose than to have a familiar face about. Her father, well, she just couldn't understand why she hadn't found him yet. After all, green skinned elves with logs sticking out of their hair weren't exactly everyday sights, even in this hell.

Jak. By the precursors, howshe missed him, wanted to hold him again. She wanted to stare into his eyes, and be assured that everything was going to be all right. She wanted things to be like they had been before, before this chaos had come about. Sighing bitterly, she laid down.

"Jak, where could you be?" she asked herself quietly, as she stared at the ceiling.

Little did she know, the former Channeler was both closer to and farther from her than she could have imagined.

&

So tell me, is this chapter as big a piece of crap as I think it is?

To those who may be a bit put off by the fact that I have gone ahead and created a character of my own, let me stress that his role in things will be exceedingly minor. Also, if anyone thinks they know who or what the strange floating thing was, feel free to state it, once again, you have three guesses, and those who guess correctly shall receive a hearty congratulations. Also, as far as his 'horns' were concerned, think of them as looking sorta like the one's on the Elite honor guard in Halo 2, minus the glowing part.

Also, I do not know when my next update will be, as I have been nailed with some major homework projects by my ever so loving teachers. Not helping is the fact that I recently purchased Devil May Cry 3, and let me tell you, that game is hard, and addicting.

So, feel free to leave me a question, comment, or a constructive criticism in the form of a review, or point out any glaring errors. And also do not hesitate to offer an idea, as there is a good chance I will need some outside inspiration later on. So thanks for reading, and have a great day.