Kableuy...just as a warning, there isn't going to be an update next week. Rede doesn't have a working computer, and I have a gig, so I'm not going to update, but I am going to use this moment to do a little advertising. clears throatUPTIGHT EPILEPTIC! Check us out at

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


They stepped off the transport pad and nearly into water below them. The crater was almost a perfect circle, and about as big as Torn estimated. In the distance, he could see flashlights scanning the ground. Eco and other condiments being shipped in from the different regions, and exported to different regions, had just been destroyed; working pulleys and other machines used for lifting crates had been obliterated. The one watchtower in the vicinity was no more than a large stump of concrete. In the distance, you could see part of the docking bay with two of the remaining ships. "Ain't the smell of burnt corpses grand?" Jinx said as they stepped off the landing pad onto the small bit of concrete that was left. One of the guys gave a low whistle as Ashelin few over with a fleet of Hellcats. She dropped low enough for Torn to jump on, so he did. Ashelin seemed amused at his casual appearance.

"Did I catch you in the middle of club hopping?" She said sarcastically.

"Yes." By Torn's tone of voice and shortness of answer, she dropped the subject.

"We found a piece of whatever did this near one of the possible blast points. It had AG markings on it. We're not positive its part of what caused the blast, so we sent it to the lab."

Torn shook his head at what she was implying. "Marcus wouldn't be that stupid." Despite their differences, Torn really admired Marcus for his ability of precision and strategy in a combat and political situation. If he were not so…evil, he would be on the first boat here for recruitment.

"So he slipped." Ashelin shrugged it off as they reached solid ground, which was covered in a sleek layer of oil from tipped over canisters.

"No, he doesn't just slip. There is some grand plan behind this." The Hellcat landed, and she shut it off so she could make eye contact with him. "He could have struck at a much more tactical spot, instead of just destroying some of our supplies. A few lives were lost and this will cut a hole in our budget but nothing much more. Who called it in?"

"One of Arik's boys." Something must have shown on Torn's face at the mention of his name because she instantly started to defend him. "Don't start with that conspiracy about him against Haven, Torn. I swear you're so—"

"How do you know he doesn't have something to do with this? The mishap in the Port, he was right there. The power surge in the Station, there's our boy Arik with one of his own fixing the problem before it even reaches my ears. In the last few months there have been little things going wrong and it has been in a position to make him look good."

"He's going to be Baron, Torn! He needs the people to—" She stopped herself before she got any farther, staring at the wheel very hard, biting her lip. Torn swallowed and tried very hard not to be furious with her. He could tell by her body language that he was not meant to know. Soon after Ashelin had left Torn officially a few months ago, she had started dating one of the younger men of the High Counsel and for that reason he had been trying to find some reason to arrest him. Unconsciously he knew it was jealous reasoning, but the other side of Torn knew he was someone's errand boy. Unfortunately, everyone was against him on his reservations.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, and that you're not going to say it until the official announcement next week." He said shortly, exiting the vehicle to try to piece together what had happened here. Business, concentrate on business. "Jinx, what do you got for me?" Torn stepped carefully over chunks of metal and concrete over to Jinx, who was examining a wall that was black except for a few spots resembling paintball splatter.

"Not much. I don't know of anything that can cause this big of a bang without excessive force, and any heavy buying of explosives would have alerted us to something. Of course, if it was Marcus, as we'd like to assume, he could have known that eco could have magnified the blasts if he used a large amount of Plasmite. Damn scientists."

"Blasts? As in plural?"

"Yeah, see these marks here?" He traced some patterns on the wall with his penlight as he took a drag on his cig that looked like normal marks of mini-mines. "See how there's a curve here, there, and then way down here? It's like probes being set up in the vicinity and being set off at different heights, different times. On the other hand, maybe these were simple smoke grenades to cause a distraction for that bad boy. Can't say for sure, but I'm guessing more than one guy was in on this. Even with remote detonation, it be pretty hard to get the timing right." He shrugged. "My money's on Marcus and his cronies. Rayn doesn't have the brains for this."

"I'll keep it in mind."

After his chat with Jinx, Torn ditched his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and went around helping with the mop up and the setting up of a spotlight, so they could see what they were doing. As he was hoisting up some supports for the massive spotlights, he felt eternally grateful that it wasn't his duty to alert the family of the dead. Some of them, as cruel as it might sound, there wasn't enough body left to put in a bag. Someone offered the suggestion of a bucket. He blew it off, thinking it was morally wrong to scoop the remains of someone into a bucket. One does not carry around a human in metal can.

------

Jak was irritated when for the second morning in a row he was forced to wake up at an inhumane hour by the noise of his communicator going off. Keira groaned beside him and covered her head with her pillow as Jak reached over and grabbed the small device, again disabling video. "If you're not Torn, I'm hanging up." Jak said wearily, laying back down and putting the mic near his face.

Surprisingly it was not Torn, but someone equally important: Sig. "Where is she?" There was no need to ask who 'she' was. He sounded anxious about something, so Jak answered.

"In a spare room. Hopefully sleeping. Why?"

"She's a planted assassin." If Jak had not lacked the energy, he would have laughed aloud. Instead, he yawned.

"Ri-ight. Well, if that was all—"

"I'm serious, Cherrie. I just got the word from Torn."

"Torn can go suck on it."

"Torn is rarely wrong, Jak." There was a first time for everything.

"Do you have anything to prove this, other than one of Torn's street contacts?"

"No, but—"

"I rest my case. Well if that's all, if you don't mind I have a date with my pillow."

"That's not all, don't you hang up rookie—"

" 'Night, Sig." He hung up before Sig could tell him any more wishy-washy theories about a girl who could barely stand was supposedly plotting their deaths. It was set firmly in his mind that she was no harm to him or the Underground, or else he would never have brought her within a mile of Keira. Despite his firm beliefs however, after shutting his com off he tore the covers off and got out of bed.

The house was still in a dim twilight, and did nothing to lighten Jak's mood. He was awake thinking before the sun was even fully up. On his way to check on the girl, he made a detour to the kitchen and flipped on the coffee machine for a fresh pot. Now that he was up, it was unlikely he would be getting back to sleep. As quietly as he could he opened the door to the spare room a fraction of an inch to make sure she was still there; she was, but she was also fully awake, perched on the edge of a bed with one of Keira's many books in her hand. Jak invited himself in.

She turned around at the sound of the door opening. The girl had found the bathroom and had cleaned herself up, putting on the set of clothes that were sitting there the day before. Her long hair was tied back bringing more focus to her strange silver eyes, which were bleary and without sleep. Keira's clothes were a little baggie on her, and considering Keira's size, it was worrisome. Jak saw her wrists had a thin pink line around them, her skin still raw from the binds that had held her.

They stood there in a slightly awkward silence. The aroma of coffee was wafting from the kitchen through the open door. "Want some food?" Jak said, suddenly hungry. She didn't move, just stared at him intently. Jak left. If she were hungry, she would come down and eat something.

Sure enough, she did. By the time Jak had finished his first dose of caffeine, she had made her way downstairs and sat herself at the small table across from Jak. He looked up from the magazine he was reading and watched her take bite after dainty bite of an apple that was sitting in a fruit basket that he had put out to snack on. "We were never really introduced. I'm Jak." The girl looked like she was trying to decide what to say, if she should bother talking or just make a run for it.

"Jaska." She said finally, staring at the table.

"Unusual name." He thought about it and took the first syllable of it to make a more time-savvy name; hers sounded like it was something out of his own past. "Jaz. I like that better, you'll fit in more." Jak said, talking to himself really but also hoping to provoke her into saying something. He took a sip of coffee and offered Jaz some, but she declined. "I'm going to need to leave you here with Keira for a while. I need to go to my shop and sort things out – it's been out of my hands for the better part of a month. Daxter's been busy with the bar, so I doubt he paid much attention to it." He added somewhat bitterly. Sure, Dax had his own things to do, but checking on the new kid that was working for him wouldn't take long. "Hmm. I'm going to need to take a trip to the tracks too, see what kind of butt I can kick. My Havoc has been in complete neglect, the engine is probably covered in a layer of dust—" Suddenly two arms slowlycame around his neck from behind, distracting him completely.

"Now I know you weren't thinking of racing on the only day off that Torn has given you, right?" Keira put her cheek up against his, and smiled sweetly.

"Oh but honey, I'm entertaining our guest."

"By going out and tinkering with your car?" She raised an eyebrow.

"She expressed a great interest for it."

"She hasn't said a word since she got here. Strike one." She backed up and put her hands on her hips.

"I'll give her some, uh, cultural enrichment."

"Strike two."

"I am going to stay home, and flirt endlessly with my girlfriend."

"And he hits a homerun, ladies and gentlemen! Good boy." She patted him on the head, and went to help herself to the semi-fresh pot of caffeine. Over the past long while, they both never really had time for each other. Keira had been consumed by the Dark Maker ship, Jak was constantly on missions or in the catacombs doing what he could to help. Every now and then, they were able to catch lunch together, but that was as far as the romance went. Jak missed it, Keira missed it, so her notions to stop him from leaving the house today were understandable, and Jak would follow through. For a few hours, anyway.

There was a loud and obnoxious knock on the door. "If it's Torn, tell him your baking cookies." Jak knew it was Torn, probably responding to the ignored warning that Sig had given him.

"Apparently I'm busy Torn, so—" Jak said as he opened the door, but stopped in mid-sentence, stunned by his appearance. For one, he was out of uniform, and for another there was blood stained over his clothes and oil smeared on his arms and face. A funny odour of something unpleasant burning was coming off him. Jak stepped outside and closed the door behind him, yelling was no doubt about to commence. "I'm going to assume the blood isn't yours, or you'd be limping."

"And I'm going to assume that if I walked in to take a shower the girl wouldn't be sitting in the kitchen having coffee."

"Well, she's not having coffee."

"Don't be naïve, Jak."

"What you told Sig is complete bull."

"And how would you know?"

"Gut instinct. Don't give me that look. My gut has never been wrong." If it weren't for his

internal instincts, Jak probably wouldn't have lived through half of the missions that he had been on in this city.

"I'm sorry if I seem sceptical, your 'feelings'. Hard evidence tends move me the other direction."

"Maybe if you'd listen to yours more often you wouldn't be in the mess you are now." Jak said quite defiantly, finally voicing what he had been thinking for the past couple weeks. Jak had caught him off guard, not giving Torn time to get his game face on so he actually looked genuinely uncomfortable. He didn't say anything however, and because he didn't want to play Dear Abby this early in the morning, he let it pass. "Anyway, what I'm getting at is you can't just throw away what you see and feel in exchange for what you hear on the street from some toothless bum."

"Very deep, coming from you."

"It's the lack of sleep." It looked like Torn was considering what he was saying, but before he said a word Jak knew what his answer would be.

"I want a background check as soon as you're done at the Strip. If everything seems normal, I won't throw her in a six by nine. Got it?" The expression on Torn's face told Jak that he wasn't doing this with his better judgement, more to keep one of his top men on peaceful terms with him.

"Sure thing, boss." As Torn moved past him to clean up, Jak called after him. "Are you going to tell me why you look like you've just lived through another war?"

Torn leant heavily on the doorframe, staring at the ground, and took a steadying breath before he

spoke. "The strip is gone." He said quietly without turning around, his voice not carrying beyond them. Gone? What did he mean by gone? Did everybody go on strike, or something? Torn stood up, and Jak could literally see him pulling himself together. "Ashelin could use another hand at the Strip. I'd appreciate it if you went over."

Torn opened the door and walked in, Jak following. He stuck his head in the kitchen, trying to look as innocent as possible. Keira had a scowl on that would move mountains, assuming correctly that Torn was here to send Jak out in his place. Jaz looked between them, confused. "Uh…I have to go out, I'll be back in a bit." There was no answer as Keira stared pointedly at the bottom of her cup. Jak shrugged on his jacket and grabbed his keys, sighing. There was nothing he could say to make her feel better, and by the time he got back she would be gone to the warehouse. He left, hoping she did not take out her frustration out on Torn.

------

Torn sifted through the closet and found a clean uniform. It took Torn a few months of calculated visits, but it paid off when he had some clothes his size in every major Freedom Guard household. In Jinx's eyes, he was considered a freeloader, and Torn almost agreed with him, if the phrase did not make him feel more like a bum than someone's commander. Torn didn't really live anywhere; sure he had an office with a couch, and a desk to do paper work on, but that was the extent of his living space. When he slept, it was either short naps between shifts at the house in the Slums, or down in the catacombs, and food was bought fresh from the Bazaar.

After closing the door, Torn logged onto Keira's computer, doing some minor hacking so that anyone who was tapped into the net connection would not be able to track the conversation he was about to have, and would not be able to hear squat. 'They' would be able to see who was talking, but unless they could read lips, it would not do much. From memory, Torn typed in the twelve-digit IP address for Ian.

The podgy, baldhead of Ian filled the display. He looked wearier than Torn felt, but he missed nothing. "Is this secure?"

Torn nodded. "Of course."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Unfortunately."

"So what is so direly important that you had to wake me up a good four hours before I had to even think about getting out of bed?"

"I need a favour." Torn said, jumping slightly when Jak's Croco-dog, cleverly named Dog, decided it would rather sleep on Torn's lap instead of the bed. Strangely enough, the dog had warmed up to most of Jak's immediate friends, though still keeping a safe distance away from Jinx.

"I picked up a piece of rubble form a recent…accident, and I want it analyzed, but not by anyone familiar to neither me nor the rest of the Council. You know anybody?" Excluding himself and Ashelin, Ian was quite possibly the only other man on the Council not in somebody's pocket. Ian was also one of the few who stood against Praxis and his tight monarchy, and for Torn that was enough to put him on his good list. Ian was also head of Internal Affairs, so he was connected with everybody.

Ian yawned, and scratched his chin in thought. "I might. She's new, and as far as I know not influenced by other sources. So what is this you need looked at?" Unconsciously, Torn started scratching the dog behind the ears as he played with the idea of not telling him anything until Ashelin made an official announcement sometime today, but decided against it. What the hell.

"The Strip has been nearly wiped out. There is a crater ranging from the transport pad to the first docking bay, about the size of the Dirt Stadium near Kras. In the rubble near the blast point, we found something that was vaguely Azure Guard. Ashelin sent it to the public lab, but I would feel more comfortable if you took it to someone private."

"Gone?" He said hoarsely. Ian ran a thick hand over his face and stared off screen for a moment. "How many dead?"

"Estimate would be about one hundred, one hundred fifty. The night shifts are slow, so the death toll should be low."

"Why didn't anybody feel anything? And explosion of that magnitude must have caused a hell of a rumble."

"Kras probably felt something. Maybe it was underwater, dampening the impact. We'll find out when our lab techies get to the site."

"And you think Marcus did this?"

Torn shrugged, stating what he told Ashelin. "No. I think someone inside screwed up and something went off that wasn't supposed to. We may be lucky it went off where it did, if Marcus had any hand in it there would be no denying he would have set it off where it would hurt." Ian nodded slowly in agreement.

"I'll send someone to confiscate the material."

"One more thing." Torn said before he hung up.

"Oh boy. I can only take so much on a Monday morning, Torn."

"It's Sunday."

"Are you telling me you woke my up at five thirty in the morning on a weekend? Budget cuts!" Torn resisted the urge to grin at his deafening sarcasm, and ending up squinting to compensate instead. Despite Ian's mature age, his attitude could match someone of a much younger generation.

"There's going to be an arms deal taking place just off the coast, tonight. One of my contacts is in that group, and in return for a wide array of information, he's requesting amnesty and medical services."

"What kind of medical services?"

"The expensive kind." Buying and installing a bionic eye did not come cheap, and considering the financial crisis Haven was already in, it would cause a slight ripple in the way of things. "Witness protection and another identity wouldn't be a bad idea either. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone else."

"Which part, the fact that you're going to be harbouring fugitives, or the fact that you're spending government money on one? Or maybe your paranoia about everyone on the Council being against everything that is good in the world?"

"All of the above."

Ian sighed. "Torn, you make me tired." After a few more minutes of pointless banter, Ian left, though whether to do what Torn asked him to or not was debatable. Instead of leaving, Torn decided to make one more call.

"Torn?" Marcus squinted into the com. Torn took great amusement that his hair was out of its usual place, and he looked all around sloppy. Imperfection drove him completely up the wall. "Calling before ten is very rude, not to mention unprofessional."

"Well, I'm just a rebel."

"Hmm, yes. Taking leisurely walks into Kras would classify as rebellious." Torn kept the look of absolute shock off his face; was there anything this guy didn't know? Not that it mattered. Torn could play this game.

"What I do in my personal time is no concern of yours, however what you do in your personal time raises some question. I may be a rebel, but you are downright treasonous. Setting a bomb off is a little flashy for you, isn't it Marcus? I would have though you had a little more class than that." Torn took great pleasure from seeing his features go from mocking, to stone solid in an instant.

"Accusations like that could get you put away." His voice was low and threatening, but Torn would have none of it.

"Oh, don't worry, Marcus. I won't sell you out, I know it wasn't you. You're too smart for that." He smirked, relishing the moment. "One of your lackeys really shed some light on what you're planning, taking out the Strip."

"Lackeys? Your vocabulary is astonishing." Marcus said dryly.

"I want to speak with you, in person, in forty eight hours. I'll be there in the morning."

"Coming alone could prove dangerous, Torn."

"You know damn well if I would be overruled if the council knew about this meeting. Be there, or your head is going to be mounted on my wall." Torn hung up, now in a foul mood. Any conversation with Marcus seems to end with Torn becoming grumpier than usual.

He debated on whether to do put a couple more hours in at the Strip, look at the damage reports that were starting to trickle in, or go get rid of the girl. Choices, choices. Staring at pages and pages of statistics and numbers did not appeal to him, then again neither did going back to the Strip and counting bodies. The girl it was.

Dog trotted along after Torn as he headed towards the kitchen, getting a scorching glance from Keira as she stormed out of the house with a large bag that clanked as she walked. He poked his head back in the living area and saw that most of the scattered parts of technology that usually covered the table, floor, couch, and any other solid surface was gone, a couple of forgotten tools was all that remained. Apparently Keira wouldn't be coming back for a while, Torn could imagine why. A slight twinge of guilt started forming in the pit of his stomach as he thought of the countless times he's torn those two apart due to work. He was able to reason with himself in a few seconds that crime never sleeps, so neither should anyone else. His logic was astounding, and it made him feel incredibly selfish.

Torn stood in front of the girl who was sitting innocently at the kitchen table, staring at a crack in the wood seemingly in another place, not noticing his inquiring stare. She was very strange looking, with her small frame and impossibly pale skin. He thought back to what Eddie had told him, about a women being sent out to dispose of the Underground and wondered if it was coincidence enough for it to be a completely different person? If Torn believed in coincidence, he might have agreed with himself. She didn't look like a killer, and certainly didn't look to have the physical strength to be a killer. Torn shook his head. She wasn't a killer, she was a spy at best. Fine.

The girl finally seemed to notice him, looking up from her daydream and eyed him fearfully. The strange eyes she possessed reminded him very strongly of an albino, or even the soothsayer, Onin. That's when a brilliant idea struck him. Onin was a clairvoyant and would be able to see and tell if she was not to be trusted. Onin saw it in Kor, however, due to the lack of physical proof, it was disregarded. Damned if Torn would make the same mistake twice.

Quickly he grabbed looked on Jak's hanger for a set of keys so he could make a quick trip to the Bazaar. "Come with me." He said quietly to the girl, but she jumped at the sound of his voice. "I'm going to take you somewhere where I don't have to keep an eye on you. Come on, let's go." He nodded towards the door, but instead of complying, she seemed to become ridged and glued to her seat. "Don't make this difficult, kid." As he walked towards the table, she fell off the chair she was perched on and scuttled with her back towards the nearest wall so she could go no further. Barely breathing, she closed her eyes and looked the opposite direction, obviously hoping he would go away. Torn was utterly confused at her behaviour towards him. If she was a spy, she was putting on a very impressive act. If she wasn't…was he that intimidating?

In an effort to be less frightening to the kid, he unsheathed his large knife from his back, and took off his two visible weapons, setting them on the table. The girl looked up at the noise, and spotted his weapons out of his immediate reach. "I'm not going to hurt you," He bent down slightly and out stretched his hand, hoping she would take it as a sign of friendliness if she couldn't understand him, which he was beginning to consider a possibility.

The girl stared at him, and then with a quavering hand took his. He helped her up and took her to Onin, glad to put a check mark against at least one item on his To Do list.