Chapter Two, up an' runnin'!

Rah, almost forgot.

To all those legal sods who have nothing better to do than trawl through fan-fiction, looking for missing disclaimers: 'I. Do. Not. Own.'

Nothing

Nada

Zilch.

Apart from this plot and any characters I introduce/modify (because I enjoy playing god :D)

So don't sue.

To My Reviewers:

yes for 1 2

DON'T DIE ON ME!…heh, but we can go insane together. Lets see if this chapter helps any. Good news is that school finishes in three days, so I'll have the new chapter updated sooner…just as I figure what the HELL is going to happen next. Apparently stuff like that is important, lol!

Dar Kash Elin:

Unwritten rule of Jak fan-fiction:

Eco Eternal Screwdom

So yeah, you're on the right track there.

Its at times like these I feel really, really sorry for anybody who wanders into my plot.

Lorana-the-Somoner:

Thank you! .

SeventhSpanishAngel12:

Glad you think so! Will do!

babyblues15:

I can defiantly say there will be more chapters…like this one here! Thanx for the support!

Dunce: Heh, thanks, but actually another one of you noticed that I had misspelled

'Pecker' oh well.

Anyway, on with tha' show!

"DOWN, you, Stupid Mutt, Down! RAARRK!"

It had seemed a good idea at the time. Really.

The logic was simple. Sig had told the monkaw to find out what that light was, and go find Jak.

So Pecker could either: a) go look at the scary, powerful, dangerous, unexplored pillar of light on his own, with a pretty high change of running into the path of two-story metal heads or b) Find Jak, then go look at the pillar of light.

Figuring that Jak was pretty safe distance from the light and Jak was stronger than him, Pecker went with choice b).

But to find Jak was difficult, as his tracker exploded in the Surge. And so had all the other tracking equipment. So the only choice left to him…

"RARRRKKK! You ugly, ugly mutt. Touch me with those teeth and I'll…"

…Use Jak's Crocadog, Zanna. After defating the Dark Makers, Jak had bought a pet croca-dog. After living a year in the Wasteland, Jak's loyal pet had grown to amazing proportions, its small, squat puppy body balencing itself better, muzzle and legs lengthening, and generally growing. Now, it stood at around four foot in height, making it look like a slate blue wolf/collie mongrel with a hell of a lot more teeth. And Spines. And claws. And it was relishing being let out. (Jak kept it indoors or with him at all times, since it tended to give people a scare).

It was also relishing chasing the monkaw around, snapping at its tail. Pecker had for his part had given up on trying to get the crocadog to track Jak, and so was letting it run loose in the wasteland.

"RAARRKKK! Any they say YOU haven't stopped growing!"

Pecker flapped harder and rose higher into the air, away from the crocadog. Letting loose a torrent of words that would have made a wastelander blush, he was then startled to see the dumb animal set off at a quick trot towards the friggin' light.

It was a long journey. A journey spent by Pecker cussing at the oblivious Croca-mutt, and trying to stop her. Which meant forfeiting his purple tail-feathers, but he did try.

The hybrid entertained the notion of just flying back to Sparagus without Zanna for a while, then realised that Jak would find out. So he carried on following the croca-dog.

So Zanna carried on, navy blue muzzel markings flashing I the harsh sunlight following her master's scent. She scrambled over the dunes, and later, round metal-head corpses, while Pecker flapped reluctantly behind.

And then they found Jak.

Twitching and spaziming, he hung in mid-air, his own blood painted on the rocky walls and thick on the ground, turning the sands into crimson mud.

He didn't have a lot of blood left.

"Okay," said pecker in his thick, Spanish accent, "I will file this under not good. Raaakk! You! Mutt! You go to Sig! You go tell him…"

Pecker paused as his stupidity hit him.

"What am I saying? A mutt? Talking? Raakk! I have been around that eidiot rat too long, his stupid has rubbed off on me…"

"Raakk, fine I will go, in to the dangerous desert, and get help. See? Everybody relies on me!"

With a few powerful flaps pecker was gone, skimming over the golden dunes, his yellow belly occasionally clipping the peaks, leaving Zanna to watch over her master, pacing as the ethral beings fought over him.

She lay her head between her paws, watching. One green eye wathing over Jak protectivly, the other, grey-ringed eye watching for the ever present danger.

It took half an hour to get Jak back to Sparagus.

The medics tore his clothes off, as they filled a bath with icy water from the throne room. Decency could wait- for the moment; priority lay in cooling the Channeler's body temperature down. Clad in his boxers, Jak was dumped in the water.

The surrounding paramedics busied themselves, trying to ignore the six glowing scars on his chest. Occasionally, the channeler would spasm, and a coloured spark would leap from his body, causing the men and women to duck. It was becoming a reflex.

"What happened ta Chilli Pepper?" enquired Sig, eyeing the old man in front of him.

The doctor in question looked up briefly from scribbling on his notebook.

"Mmm, so this is Damas' son eh? Interesting…I suppose he must of inherited some of It from his mother…Nice woman, wouldn't want to cross her on a dark street, but then again-"

Sig poked him in the chest. "Yeah, he's Damas' son. What. Happened?" He snapped.

"Mmm, Eco surge, his father had the same problem, so did his mother-"

Sig coughed, and glared.

"Ah, haha, as a Eco Mage, the man reacted badly to the Surge, and his body over heated, when the different types of eco fought for control. I have no idea how he survived, we could practically fry an egg off his chest, though my father did always say that Mar's decen-"

"You said his mother had given him 'It'. Sig cut across quickly, "What 'It'?"

"His resilience to the eco. Should of killed him. Her Morphing ability carried through too apparently."

"Daxter!" Rasped Torn, "Get you're sparkin' ass OFF my map"

"Make me, Rusty-locks!" Snapped Daxter.

"Don't tempt me, RAT." Snarled Torn, stroking his gun handle longingly.

Daxter, seeing this, jumped off the table.

After an awkward pause, Daxter spoke up again.

"I heard Log-a-head talking to you about Jak. Why?"

"None of your business."

"Listen Captain Laryngitis, this is my best buddy here. It's my business."

"Fine. He may be dead. Happy?"

"Ha-Ha, Fuck you. Seriously, what's up with Jak?"

"I am Serious."

"WHAT?"

"You heard me, rat."

For once, Daxter had no witty reply. He looked at his feet, and shivered. His large ears flopped down, slightly obscuring his eyes, where tears started to build.

"no…" He whispered.

Torn in that split second felt a burning regret, for the first time in years. That had been cruel, but also he felt anger. Someone should have told the Ottsel, he reasoned. But deep down he knew the anger was directed at himself. Hesitating, Torn opened his mouth…

"Torn? Torn! This is Sig, pick up Cherry!"

"Sig? How did you get my number?" asked Torn, pulling out his communicator from his pocket. He pressed a flashing button, and a silver hologram of the wastelander's face appeared.

"Got it off Jak."

"You mean he's alive?" Squeaked Daxter, scrabbling up onto Torn's arm.

"Just about. He's a tough little Chilli Pepper, but I need Samos. That kids real sick." Boomed the hologram.

"I'll get him!" yelped Daxter, bolting up the stairs to the Shadows room.

Havens sewers. Dark, dank and dangerous. Rabid rattit's scurried two and fro, hopping over puddles of corrosive sludge and tar, some even sometimes riding down the sewer-river on driftwood, floating machinery, and corpses tossed there by the KG. It was not called the Styx for nothing.

In some places, the metal in the pipes had corroded away completely, and the toxic waste flowing into channels of its own carving, or travelling along old precursor ruins, their bronze carvings covered by black, stinking waste.

Slowly a black, oily film covered the sordid surface of the water. It travelled upstream, wending its way along the sub-terrainian passageways, until it came under the palace itself.

Slowly at first, then picking up speed it whirlpooled, faster and faster, forming a column and it began to drift sideways, towards the side of the sewer-tunnel and the stone path that ran along side it. As it moved the spinning column changed shape. It spilt at the bottom. A thin, flapping film unravelled behind it. Parts widened and thinned. By the time it had reached the walkway, it was elfin-shaped.

Gol, Sage of Dark Eco put his foot on the bottom of the ladder.

And so it began.

OH GOD! THE CLICHÉ'S! ahem eh…yah. Sorry this thing took so long to write. Writers block and real life kept on catchin up on me…bastards. Along with an evil computer that deleted my friggin work. A couple of things may be causing you to hate me. So allow me to explain.

Firstly, Torn's communicator. I reckoned that Torn would have more than one Comm. Unit, and its only when machinery is on that the Surge affects things. Jak had seizures because he had eco residues in his body from long exposure.

Secondly: RattitRat/Rabbit hybrid. Think long eared, large footed rats, brown or black in colour, with claws.

K,k? Read and review peoples. Flames will be used to burn my report cards. See ya!