Murder me later, I was a day late. But hey, here's the update anyway. Enter mysterious contact, stage left.

NOTE: We do not own any of Naughty Dog's characters, names, places, or anything else I fail to mention. Just the plot and its many holes.


Jak felt around for the alarm clock that dared to wake him, and slammed down on the snooze button. It kept ringing. Swearing he lifted his head from his pillow and realized it wasn't his alarm, it was his communicator buzzing at him. Jak pressed a small button on the red device so that he could answer it with audio instead of video.

"What?" He said groggily, putting the com beside his head so he could lie back down.

"It's six o' one, and you're report isn't here."

It took a moment for it to process. "Dammit!" Jak whipped the covers off and Torn told him to be at his office damn quick.

"I have another mission for you, so get here." Click. Jak threw a clean tunic on walked over to the display that still held his four-page report that he typed up last night before crashing, but forgot to send off. He found Torn's secure IP address and sent it. Normally he would not really care about his report, and neither would Torn. He would just ask to be debriefed and that was the end of it, but this time he needed a hard copy of what Jak had heard while he was escaping custody to give to the High Counsel. They realized that it wouldn't get Marcus sacked but they might be able to raise some question to weaken his reliability.

Jak hopped on one foot on his way to the kitchen for some breakfast, aka coffee, while putting on his boots. He was slightly annoyed that he couldn't have one day's grace before getting back to work, but then he thought about what he would do if he did have the day off. Sit around. Do nothing. He had three jobs that kept him busy 24/7; racing was a career, missions for Torn, and then his moneymaking hobby at the garage fixing up cars. It's amazing what people were willing to pay to have him just look at their vehicle let alone do anything to it. The tracks were closed every Sunday for maintenance, so usually today Jinx, Sig and himself would get together but he doubted they knew he was back yet.

"Hey Dax, you awake?" He yelled in the general direction of Dax's hidey-hole while he grabbed some cold coffee from the fridge. There was a vague mumble, and then a thump. He was coming. By the time he had guzzled down his cold mocha, he was awake and Daxter was so obviously not. His fur was miffed and his eyes barely open, but he dragged his feet towards Jak anyway. "Do you want me to carry you?" Jak asked, slightly sarcastic.

"I can walk just fine…mind your own…" His words were slightly slurred with fatigue, and as soon as he attempted to take another step forward, he fell face first on the ground. Though he would hear about it later, Jak decided to leave him where he was and go on the mission without him.

Jak wondered why Torn's office wasn't in the palace – he was governor after all, so shouldn't he be closer to the political base? For whatever reason, Torn's office was located in the Industrial Sector, south of the Slums where the house that Sig has so generously rented to them for sleep off's for in-between missions was located. Everyone but Torn called it The Box, because that's what it was. One twenty by twenty two room attached to what could pass as a six by nine cell that served as his 'bedroom'. The big room consisted of a couch, a desk, a fridge and a large safe that held all his toys. For years Jak and Jinx had been trying to get him to move somewhere with breathing room, and yet he's still there. The drive was short, but Jak took the speed down a notch anyway because despite the buzz from the caffeine his reflexes were going to be a little slow if some arse decided to cut in front of him.

"Took you long enough." He said as soon as the door opened.

"I only took," Jak glanced at his watch. "…seven minutes since you called."

"You left something out of your report." Jak was silent as Torn spun around in his chair, trying to chip away at his skull to get to his brain with those eyes of his. Torn could have you confessing to the murder of your mother in less than thirty minutes. "Marcus got a hold of me last night."

"Oh." Jak stared at point just above Torn's penetrating eyes, trying to figure out if he was talking about the absence of the girl or something else entirely.

"Aside from the fact that you caused a couple hundred grand worth of damage, he told me that you had kidnapped his sister." Sister? Jak made a sour face. He didn't see the family resemblance. "I know you did, I met her last night when I asked Keira if she knew anything about it. I also know that she is not his sister, she looks nothing like him."

"Did you just try to be funny?" Jak asked, stunned by his last remark.

Ignoring him, he went on. "I told Marcus that you had said she died somewhere between the elevator and the explosion in the lab. I added it in your report before I sent it off to the Counsel for consideration."

Jak didn't have the strategic mind that Torn had, so he failed to see why that was necessary. "Why'd you do that?"

"If we tell Marcus that she's dead, he would have no reason to believe otherwise. He would know, but he would have no reason to be untrusting of our word and therefore couldn't make a public announcement without causing some upheaval in the High Council. I want to keep her around and interrogate her when she can stand on her own two feet. I don't know how long she's been under Marcus' roof, but hopefully he did some nasty things to make her mad enough to talk." The way Torn worded it sound as if he didn't care what the girl had gone through, just that she had information that could help them. Frankly, Jak agreed. One sacrifice to get Marcus out of the way was well worth it. The girl was probably tortured, and knowing Marcus experimented on, so she would no doubt be more than happy to see him behind bars. "Why did you leave her out in the first place?"

Jak shrugged. "My rap sheet is big enough without adding kidnapping to the mix." He was rewarded with a smirk from Torn, not an easy feat to accomplish.

"Go down to the catacombs and help Vin with the rewiring. If he had hands he would do it himself, but he doesn't and I can't spare any right now."

"That's the mission?" Jak was disappointed at the lack of demolition that came with the job.

"You expected something more extravagant?"

"Actually a raid would sit really nice right now." About once a month, the Underground would get a good tip on some sort of illegal activity going down in Haven or Spargus, but mostly Kras. Not surprisingly, Marcus seemed to keep his criminal activities close knit because they still have yet to get dirt on him. Raid's were usually short, violent, and always bloody. Judging by Torn's expression, he missed this month's deal while he was wading through snow.

"Since you're back early, I have nothing official for you to do for the next few days. You just nominated yourself for making sure our newcomer doesn't get into too much trouble. She doesn't leave wherever you decide to keep her; tongues will wag if she does. I don't need word reaching Marcus about my blatant lie."

-- Yes, yes, I realize there is a huge time gap in here. Get used to it. I played with a lot of ides to fill it up, but none of them seemed to be relevant enough. It is now close to midnight, and in Torn's POV --

With the bass beating against the walls of the club he walked out of the stall, dodging a couple that deemed it necessary to bring their infatuation out in public. Torn carried the small duffle bag to a locker nearby, his uniform and the small tool he used to be rid of his tattoos hidden. Before locking it, he took his hair out of the tight rows that usually kept his it out of the way and let the wavy locks fall around his face. He mussed with his hair a bit to make it appear more natural, and threw the ties in with the duffle bag, locking it. Because he never let his hair down in public Torn was unused to feeling it loose, but for undercover missions he needed to be completely unrecognizable.

Torn examined his appearance in a nearby mirror and was happy with the result. The tool his used to be rid of his visible tattoos did a good job. It altered his skin tone perfectly. Only in bright light would the outlines be visible for the next couple of hours. With his hair out from it's usual strict state and the dark racing clothes he was wearing, even Ashelin would walk right past him without even considering he was the same person.

Torn checked both his guns to be sure they were loaded before holstering and covering them with the leather jacket he had picked up the other day. With the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing, it would be warm, but there was no way he was showing off his hardware; that was a fight waiting to happen. In Kras, everybody packed, but nobody showed it.

He walked out into the night air and headed towards the Bloody Hook. For the past few months, he had been meeting someone, an informant that usually had information that his other citywide sources have not told him yet. He didn't know he was talking to the governor of Haven City, he just thought Torn was a close friend of Jak's which in all technicalities was true. If Eddie had known he was talking to someone of high rank, he would bolt. This guy was into illegal trades, pharmaceutical and otherwise, which is why he made such a good rat. The rat was soft though. Eddie decided that he wanted to get out of the business, so he had Torn agree to pull him out when the time was right in return for insider information.

Secrecy was imperative. Like Jak's mission to the Iceland's, if anyone found out he was mucking around, the Council would become apprehensive and he would probably be suspended from duty for suspicion of treason. If Torn was suspended it was guaranteed that things would start to go to hell; Ashelin was fine leader but he doubted she would be able to handle her political duties as well as be proficient in handling a team for monthly raids. One or the other would start to slip.

Of course, if just such a thing occurred Torn did have a back-up plan. Jak was trained well enough to hold a team together and with Torn's discreet help he would be able to direct a platoon if necessary. He would not enjoy it because he would not be right in the action but he could do it until the mass of red tape blew over. His plan was to as quickly as possible to promote him to a position that didn't exist yet, a second to Torn. Torn never found the need to have a second because he was never in a high enough rank to bother with it, however now that he was governor and doing things behind the Counsel's back, he would need one.

Torn reached the Bloody Hook and after walking in to the dimly lit bar he had the urge to wipe his hand on his pants to get the grime off, but resisted as he inhaled the wonderfully fresh smell of fish, beer and smoke. Grunge like this was common in Kras. A display was droning off some stats for racing in the corner. He glanced around for any familiar faces, and found none. Two men were sitting at the bar watching while drinking and taking occasional drags from their cigs. Another was passed out on a table to his left with an empty longneck in his hand, and his informant sitting in a corner with a hood over his head. Torn nodded to the bar tender through a cloud of smoke, a large black man who knew him by sight as a regular, signalling for two of the usual. Torn pulled up a chair and sat in silence, waiting for him to speak. He would when he was ready.

Drinks arrived and Eddie put his now empty one down and went for the second. He clanked to the left and right to be sure no one was hanging over his shoulder. He took a drink and Torn got a glimpse of his haggard face. Torn understood his need for concealment. His face was scar filled from defending his small sow of possessions. A piece of his ear was missing, and because he could not afford a bionic eye, a gaping hole replaced it. Even in such a shady place as Kras, people didn't react well to him, which had turned him into a bitter, resentful person.

"Got something big." He said so quietly Torn needed to lean forward to hear. "Marcus is on to the Underground. The ship they found, he knows about it."

"What?" Torn said a little too loudly, struck by the comment. They had taken every security precaution available to man to keep knowledge of the Dark Maker ship getting out. "When?"

"Found out just yesterday. This is just a rumour, but apparently he hired someone to off everyone associated with Underground."

It was a rumour worth looking into. "Any names?" Torn doubted it, but he asked every time anyway.

Eddie shook his head. "Rumour also has it that he hired a woman." Torn let it sink in, trying to

make some sense of it. Then it clicked into place. Of course. The girl Jak had brought back.

"Anything else?" Torn said half-heartedly. Eddie took a swig of his drink, looking towards the door.

"When am I getting out, Konan?" Konan was his fathers name as well as his alias.

"Give the word. Set up a deal worth going for. I'll vouch for you when they bring you in."

"And you're word alone is enough?" Sarcasm and disbelief tore through his voice, past experiences of betrayal and dishonesty coming back to him.

"I have a lot of influence." Torn had told him this before, but Eddie never quite believes him.

He let out a barking laugh, a sudden noise that made Torn and the few people in the bar jump.

"No one person has that much Konan. For all I know you're one of those damn Freedom Guards waiting for the right moment to take me in."

"Trust goes both ways. There is nothing stopping you from ratting me out and sending me to the Iron Island." Iron Island was a common term for the prison just off Mar's Coliseum. "Things are tight right now so I understand you're hesitation, but you need to trust me." Eddie thought about it, chewed on the fact like a sour tasting candy. He nodded his head as if he was having a conversation with himself that torn couldn't hear, and ran a finger around the rim of the large mug that he was holding.

"Midj is bringing some heavy hardware to the docks, shipping overseas to an island off the coast of Spargus. I'll be there." Eddie cleared his throat and got up, Torn following him out after wiping his translucent card over the panel by the wall to pay for whatever Eddie had that night along with a tip. Eddie was just outside the door, walking away as Torn followed him down the dark street at a brisk pace, hoping for another tidbit. "I don't know if this is any interest to the Underground, but Damas' will was recovered today." Torn wasn't expecting that.

"He had a will?"

"Apparently. In the event of Damas' death, his son is supposed to take over rule of Spargus when he turns twenty-one. Wasn't his son kidnapped when he was just a kid? Anyway, because he's missing depending on who it is, it could cause some problems with your only ally." There was a pause as he looked behind him. "We're being followed. Go through the sewers to get to the transport, no one will follow you down there." Suddenly Eddie turned right and disappeared in the thin crowd like water into a thirsty desert. Discreetly, for his own reassurance more than anything, he took the safety off both guns. Before Eddie and Torn had been acquainted, Torn had been busy trying to build a rep under the name Konan so he would not be bothered every time he decided to show his face on main street, but not enough to become infamous. The locals knew him as a softie, but a sharpshooter and someone not to be messed with.

Torn calculated the risk about going back and retrieving his belongings but deciding against it, thinking it was not worth it. He didn't lock away his only uniform, though he would have to improvise with the hair. He didn't need the skin toner to reverse the effects. After a two city blocks he took a detour through a restaurant kitchen to get to a cellar that would lead to sewer system down below and to a transport pad that lead to Haven. Torn checked the time. It was nearly one in the morning, and it would be later when he finally got back home.

When he was down the manhole to the sewer's he became anxious in the narrow pathway, afraid that someone could come up behind him and assassinate him without any warning. Incrementally, he kept looking over his shoulder as he tried to work out some sort of plan. There was no reason for him to off the girl right now for the better of the Underground, but there were two flaws in this plan: Jak would never speak to him again, so he would loose a friend and comrade in the process. Unless he explained himself, there would be problems. Giving reasons to off the girl brought about problem number two. This would give light to the fact that he had been meeting with a contact whose loyalty could be questioned.

As he climbed the ladder to his ticket to fresh air, he concluded that he would need to tell Jak about his suspicions. He may not do anything about it but he knew the word would put him on his guard. Torn programmed the coordinates for home into the transport and sat down to deal with his other headache.

The finding of a will from Damas was bad news. If it were ever made public Sig would have a mutiny on his hands. Spargus' people weren't a violent bunch, but as soon as they found out their beloved leader's son was still alive, there would be an uprising. Damas did well for his people out in the desert, and the people still hadn't finished mourning. Eddie didn't know it, but Jak would be the one who would take over when he was of age, which was in a couple of months. As good as a kid he was, he was not ready to lead a country. Jak had a group of elite men that he was in charge of, but leading group of friends and leading a nation were two entirely different things. He would not be able to be anymore than a figurehead, and Torn knew that would piss him off because Jak always needed to be eyeball deep in gunfire to be happy. Being a ruler would not be enough to satisfy his thirst for violence for long.

As he walked off the transport and headed towards home, Torn imagined a conversation between Jak and himself as he walked towards home, finding what he was coming up with amusing. Though you didn't know you're father Jak, and he didn't really know who you were, he wanted to leave Spargus to you doing in the event of his premature death. Don't worry though, politics will be as boring as hell and you'll probably want to kill yourself after hearing constant bullshit after the first two weeks. The Counsel is going to be scrutinizing your every move because they expect nothing less than perfection from their local delinquent. Make sure you learn all the rules within the next month and a half or so. Oh, by the way, the girl you picked up is probably going to assassinate you in your sleep so be on your guard. Yes, Torn thought, this conversation will go smoothly.

To pull him out of his slight distress was his com buzzing on his belt. Concern took over him when Torn flipped it open to see Ashelin's haggard face on the other line. "The Strip is gone, Torn." She said quietly.

"What do you mean gone?" He asked, not understanding.

"There is a great gaping hole between the transport pad and the docking bay."

"That's what, five clicks?" He tried to picture a crater that was about five kilometres long in the Seaport Strip, but it was too large for his brain to handle this early in the morning. "That's not possible."

"Tell that to the guys that worked here. Get down here and bring a team. There's still heavy debris to clean up." She hung up without giving him any further details. Torn looked at his surroundings and realized he was in the middle of the Industrial Sector with houses of various Freedom Guards houses surrounding him. He headed towards one that's light was still on, and knocked. Jinx answered the door, the men behind him looking at the door in question. As luck would have it, he had caught them on a poker night or something. Jinx's mouth dropped, nearly letting his constantly present cig fall out at Torn's appearance. Torn hoped his tattoos at the very least had materialized. "I need your expertise, Jinx." He looked taken aback at the comment.

"I have expertise?" Over Jinx's shoulder, Torn ordered the other five or so men to follow him, explaining the situation at the Strip on the way to the transport. He could tell by the tense silence that followed they all thought it was too early in the morning for this shit.


We'reaiming for the next one to be next Saturday, and you'll find out just how bad things are. Hold your breath, the next step is a doozy.