This story is strange to myself, being the author.I have no idea what my inspiration was for this story, but I guess all I can say is thatI hope you like it. It's 2am and I'm totally brain-dead, so please excuse grammatical and spelling errors.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, places, or anything else. All I own are my words and my plot.


Swarming Thoughts

Chapter One: A Useless Battle

Jak watched the enemy fall. He thought about the war while he was raising his gun, taking his time. He thought about what he was taking away, about what these Metal Heads really were. They were different: different customs, different motives; and so they were killed. Metal Heads were strange creatures. They fought for power and to protect, but they would be quick to kill one of their own for something more.

This led Jak to think of when he had stopped the Lurkers so long ago. How his childhood had been snatched away by wars and battles.

Jak thought of his childhood as he loaded the gun.

He had been so innocent… Jak fired a shot. It pierced a Metal Head's skull.

He had been so determined… He fired another shot.

He had been so obedient… Yet another shot resounded over the valley.

So pure… Jak was running out of bullets quickly. Instead of firing again, he butted a Metal Head with his gun. So much power went into that attack that Jak almost had trouble taking the lodged gun from the monster's skull.

He watched as more came flooding from over the hills. At this rate, it would take him a month to take them all out, plus, he was running low on lost qualities. But there was one that would earn him ten shots: he had been lost. No, not lost in the woods or the jungle, but lost in himself. Where had he been? Could it really have been the tiny village of Sandover that he grew up in? Could he really have grown up so serious and dangerous? But how could he have violated his purity? Then he remembered: he hadn't, Praxis had…

Jak let out a cry of frustration and finished the magazine.

How had Praxis even known he would come? As thought after thought flew through Jak's mind, bullet after bullet flew through his enemies.

How could he have let himself be so vulnerable?

Why did Daxter have to scurry off? But if Dax hadn't ran off, tail between his legs, how would he have gotten out at all?

Another clip feel to the ground, empty.

Why were these thoughts even coming to Jak after so long? The sage had said to use his anger against his enemies, but this couldn't be what he had meant… could it?

And what about the sage? Why did he just sit on his bum while the rest of them worked so hard, doing whatever it took, to win this war? Why were they even fighting for Haven City, or what was left of it anyway…?

Jak was out of ammunition. He punched and kicked absent-mindfully. The Metal Heads were dying at a fast pace, but he didn't notice, he was still lost in thought.

It was not until there was nothing left to punch that Jak came out his shell of reflection. He fell to one knee and slung the gun over his back, exhausted. His communicator buzzed, but he turned it off. He wasn't in the mood for a mission, he didn't have the patience for one of Samos's speeches at the moment, he just wanted to go home and escape his thoughts and the war.

The stress was finally taking its toll on Jak and hedid everything he could to handle it. This slaughter of Metal Heads was one of those things he did to relieve himself of this high-tension stress, or at least banish it temporarily. Not only did it help Jak, it helped the city and their cause for the war.

It began to rain, but Jak made no move to get up. It felt good to just lay there, even in the mud, and escape reality. There were no Metal Heads to worry about in the immediate area, so Jak really had nothing to fret about. Also, the KG were being held at bay by the Freedom… Jak was too tired to even try to remember what they were called, but what did it matter? They were just sad excuses for warriors. But Jak couldn't blame Torn. He had done a good job on training for having such short notice. At least his guys could hit their targets, and he always had Jak to cover them when something went wrong.

Jak dragged himself to his feet, though his muscles protested vigorously. He would have to go home sometime, and their was no better time than the present… except, maybe, the past…


So, I really need some sleep, but I may continue this, depending on reviews. I need enough to be persuaded (however you spell it...)I should continue. Thanks for reading, please R&R.