**REVISED CHAPTER**

Jak and Daxter (c) Naughty Dog


Cry Of The Wolf

Chapter 4 – Hard Reality


"Jak, wake up, man! Wake up!" The persistent voice flooded his ears, pulling him away from the forest and from the howls. He slid open his eyes to see Torn and Daxter leaning over him. Daxter held a face of shock, and Torn just looked worried. "Are you ok?" Torn asked, shaking Jak awake by the shoulders. Jak took a moment to recount where he was; his mind still raced in the forest, although he was lying in his bed.

"Huh? What happened?" Jak groaned, his blurred vision sharpening.

Torn shook his head, and stood back. "You were freaking out. Daxter came up here to sleep, and told me you were yelling and howling," he replied, crossing his arms as he surveyed Jak carefully.

"Really? What else?" Jak asked, sitting up to find his bandage almost undone.

"You were thrashing about, and sweating to the max, Jak!" Daxter cried, leaping onto the bed next to Jak. He began to tie up the bandages again, giving them an extra tight yank to ensure they stayed on.

"Thanks, Dax," Jak murmured, examining his freshly wrapped bandage. No one spoke after this, and Jak knew he was under the scrutiny of both the room's inhabitants. It sent an uncomfortable jolt through him, and he wished he could just depart from the situation.

Another moment passed in silence, before Torn cleared his throat. "Well, Jak, it's only eleven, so try and get some more sleep. We'll figure this all out in the morning," Torn suggested flatly, turning to leave. "Oh, and Daxter? Alert me if he acts oddly again." With that final parting, Torn left.

"Maybe that bite has done something to ya, Jak," Daxter offered worriedly. Jak took this into deep consideration.

"Maybe you're right Dax. I just hope it was a nightmare. I seriously won't be able to handle a fourth 'me'," Jak replied with bitter sarcasm, closing his eyes to attempt to sleep again. He felt the bed bounce up slightly, and heard soft scuffling of small, furry feet across the floor.

"Well, good night, Jak," the Ottsel called, slipping into his own, smaller bed.

"You too, buddy."

It wasn't long before both of them had fallen asleep, and Jak was content enough to have the rest of the night undisturbed. He woke up late the next morning to find Daxter already gone from the room. Listening closely, he could just hear the Ottsel yelling insults at someone, most likely Torn, in the bar downstairs. It was quite funny to listen to, Jak admitted, after hearing Daxter yell out one simple, offensive word, which was then met in turn by a whole succession of blatant ranting. Jak smiled to himself, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Although he wished to remain in his cozy bed, he knew there was work to be done, and matters to be sorted.

"Oh yeah? Well, At least I'm not a tattooed oaf with a stick up his ass!" Daxter's voice shrilled up the stairs.

'I wonder what's happened now?' Jak wondered to himself, standing on the chilly wooden floorboards. His head began pounding from the mere stance, the walls and floor rocking in his vision. "Torn was right about this," he muttered sluggishly, grabbing hold of the painkillers and taking two with the glass of water he found beside the bed. After a few minutes his vision corrected, and so he decided to risk going downstairs. On his way out, he searched the room for a fresh tunic and slipped it on, taking care with the bandage. When he reached the bar, he saw Torn pacing the room agitatedly.

"Torn?" Jak questioned, slipping into the bar and collapsing on a stool. Torn lifted his head to gaze at Jak, and his features hardened a little more.

"Don't even say anything. Daxter caught me in his bar fridge, and gave me an earful for it!" he snarled, shooting Daxter a dark look.

"Well, it serves you right," Jak replied, biting back a snigger while he rested an elbow on the countertop. Torn briefly narrowed his eyes, before approaching Jak.

"You look terrible, Jak. Ashelin requests your company, though," Torn announced, leaning on the bench and watching Jak for his reaction.

"Again? But why?" Jak inquired, casting a look to Daxter who shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Well, she seems to think there's some Metal heads at the Pumping Station too." Jak growled under his breath at this. "And I think she wants to make sure you're all right," Torn added quickly, sensing an argument rapidly approaching.

"Fine, but if she thinks I'm going on a mission like yesterday, she can forget it," he finished, indicating to his arm.

"Yeah, but Jak… none of us were expecting something like that to happen. What happens out on a mission is the Fighter's own liability-"

"Look, Torn, I'd really like to see you handle something that large without any kind of preparation! And don't forget, I'd never seen anything like it in my whole life!" Jak retorted heatedly, rising from the stool. Torn stood back, his expression solemn.

"Jak, don't act like it's all my fault. If I'd known that thing was out there, I'd have sent Jinx out with you."

Jak motioned to Daxter to get on his shoulder, before turning to Torn one last time. "Maybe next time, Torn, you'll pick someone else," he muttered, forcing himself to look composed.

Turning on his heel, Jak collected his gun and Jet-board from the centre Hologram-table, then strode towards the exit and out into the sunlit street of the Port. He was angry with everyone at the moment, save for Daxter. No one else seemed to understand the torment he already had to contend with, with his Dark and Light personas inhabiting his body. He also had the reputation of being a hero to live up to. At times he wished he were just an average citizen, wandering pointlessly around this trash hole they called Haven City, watching as someone else saved them all, time and time again.

He gazed out into the tranquil Port, squinting when the sun reflected off the still surface into his eyes. Yet another day for fighting for the weak.

"Jak, are you ok, buddy? You seem kind of out of it."

Jak shook his head, pushing those negative thoughts away for the time being. He had a task to complete, and could not afford any more distractions. "Dax, I'm fine. Let's just get to HQ, and see what Ashelin wants."

Although zoomers were plentiful and parked all over the place, Jak felt he needed time to think. Instead, he tossed the Jet-board to the pavement. It had been a while since he completely enjoyed riding the board, feeling the wind in his hair and hearing the yells from angry guards following him. He wished he could just do that again, and have no worries at all.

"Ready for a bumpy ride, Dax?" Jak grinned cunningly, stepping onto the board and adjusting his balance.

"Sure, Jak! Just don't run into any Freedom Fighters," Daxter cautioned, gripping onto the shoulder pad. Jak flipped the board to face the Industrial Area, and let it carry him swiftly through the crowd.

During the ride, the matter of Torn floated back to his weary mind. Out of everyone in the Freedom League, he just had to pick Jak. But it wasn't Torn who'd sent you. It was Ashelin. That voice kept nagging him, every time he tried to lay the blame on his fellow leader. But if Torn had told Ashelin I'd given up being a hero, maybe she would have chosen someone else to do it. His preoccupied mind was racing, and he spared very little of it concentrating on the path ahead of him.

Maybe he should have been looking where he was going, so then he wouldn't have run into that Freedom Fighter. "You'll pay for that!" the Guard growled, getting to his feet and shaking his electric prodder at Jak's sprawled form on the ground. His head was spinning from the impact, but he managed to calculate what had just happened.

"Run, Jak!" Daxter shrieked, nudging Jak's cheek none-to-gently with a furry elbow. Jak leapt up and retrieved his Jet-board, evading the Guard's advancing form as he hastily made his retreat to the HQ. He still couldn't fathom how he'd run into the Guard without noticing. It was as though his mind wasn't even in Haven City anymore.

Spotting the HQ in sight, he glided smoothly to a stop at the main doors.

"Glad you could make it, Jak."

Jak looked up after collecting his Jet-board to see Ashelin emerging from the HQ. She gave him a welcoming smile and hastily beckoned him forward. "It seems you have company. Quick, inside," she instructed, motioning to the lift while watching a few Freedom Fighters nearing them. Jak flipped the board back into the slots on his back, and mounted the lift. Ashelin stepped on just in time as it started to rise, leaving the city behind them.

"Jak, I have another mission for you. This time it's at the Pumping Station. You remember the place?" she asked as they stepped off the lift and approached the centre table.

"Yeah, I remember the place. What do you want me to do this time?" he sighed in resignation, resting his arms across his chest. Ashelin promptly flipped through some papers, whilst muttering some things that Jak couldn't discern.

"Same as last time," she eventually replied, handing Jak yet another map. He examined it thoroughly, reading the contents and committing it to memory. Gazing up at her, he awaited further details.

"There have been some sightings of a few metal heads out there. It's not likely that they're regrouping, but I want to ensure that they don't start." Jak shoved the map into his pouch and turned to face Ashelin.

"By the way, I'm fine," he dropped with a hint of sarcasm, before heading towards the door.

"Jak, I am sorry about all this. Just… please be careful."

Jak gritted his teeth on the lift's descent, wondering just how much Ashelin actually cared. He understood her position, and knew she had a city to run, but it failed to soften his outlook on the situation. Daxter meanwhile, had picked up on Jak's soured mood and glanced at him with worry.

"Jak, don't go blaming Ash. So what if she sent us out? She didn't know about that monster," Daxter reassured him, calming Jak down slightly while he scavenged for a zoomer to ride. Spotting a beauty a few yards away, he made a bee-line for it.

"Whatever, Dax," Jak sighed in dismissal, swinging his right leg over the one-seated zoomer and taking a seat. He switched the engine on and, without bothering to give any warning to Daxter, they flew off.