(A Word From the Author: welcome all, to my second attempt to stay dedicated to fanworks online. I've always had a soft spot for Jak and Daxter, and seeing the Lost Frontier sour on me followed by the news that Naughty Dog had moved on to another IP hit me really hard in a soft place. It made me start filling in the gaps in my head. Just what had happened in Dead Town to make the situation so bad? How was the siege of the Metal Head nest botched? What other battles took place before the game began? Stick with me through this, and we'll find out together.

While this fic is populated by OCs, I strive to place them a little bit better than Sues, as well as have plenty of shout-outs and cameos by actual in-game characters. So sit back, relax and enjoy the military war prologue no one asked for, and leave a word if you had a question or comment about the story. Remember, I write for -you guys-.)

Old Soldiers: the Battle of Dead Town

Chapter One: Impregnable

"Honestly, nothing was really happening that morning. No indication of what was coming at all."

"Thinking back on it, sir, we should have known better."

"Yeah…hindsight's a real bitch."

10 years ago…

It was always dangerous to work installations outside of the city walls, but at the very least it came with the assurance that these places had heavy defenses. The drill platform was fitted with a dozen heavy turrets that the security staff were well-versed in operating, the pumping station was intentionally designed as a literal labyrinth where Metal Heads and marauders could easily be funneled and picked off from high above, the eco fields had sentry bot oversight and the latest mineshaft efforts were staffed with a full company of Krimzon Guard troopers. Yes, it was a dangerous job to be an industrial worker, but the pay was damn good.

The Kadorna hydroelectric dam, where the water flow channeled through eco-arc reactors to charge power to the city, was one of the primary providers of blue eco to the city, a rare example of artificial eco production backwards engineered from Precursor technology. Its own defenses came in the form of a pair of massive, dual-cannoned artillery turrets, able to nail anyone stupid enough to come up the valley, where every single millimeter was already pre-sighted. The guns had proven their worth several times, bombarding clusters of Metal Heads with barrages of red eco warheads and scattering the monstrous creatures to the winds. After a while, the raids lessened to a rate where even security personnel were scaled back and reassigned. Anything to reduce costs for the Baron's war machine.

On this particular day, mid-level Foreman Vin Ladok clocked in to his station with no apparent reason for the roiling, churning apprehension in his gut. Working outer posts like this as he had the last seven years had given him a sixth-sense for when bad situations were coming, the result of too many breaches in security, Metal Heads swarming into the facility and massacring whoever they could reach. But here at the dam, the other managers always laughed at Vin behind their hands. Kadorna had never been breached before, and never would be. Those big guns were too good, they said. No Metal Head would ever make it up the valley, and the rocky cliffs made an assault from the flanks impossible. The dam was the most secure position aside from Haven itself, and Vin's suspicions were obviously misplaced.

Still, as he watched over the sluice gates, Vin couldn't get rid of the apprehension in his gut.

"Uh…boss?"

He glanced up at Dortmund, his right hand man. They were in Vin's office, and the man had just finished with the latest productivity reports. Dortmund was a large foxbear of a man, with enormous shoulders and calloused hands that told of his life as a man of industry of some kind or another. A particularly large and jagged scar on his arm was from a Lurker shark he claimed he had run into working at a cannery, but that was a bit much for even Vin to swallow. He'd helped his foreman keep things down here at this level running smoothly, and thanks to that output was high, even if the rest of the dam facility looked at the rest of the boys down here as 'sewer rats'.

"Er, uh, sorry Dortmund. Just a little…everything's good, right?"

"Yes, boss."

"Okay. Keep it that way, and the longer things go right, the sooner I'll feel better."

He just had to get through this day, he thought as he stood and looked out at the sluice gates again, watching his workers at their jobs. After all, today was going to shape up alright, just like any other day. Nothing bad was going to happen. Right?

Well, it turned out that thought was wrong in its extreme, as a thick, black tentacle shot out of the water, smashing through the grilles over the water flow. Reaching up, it slapped onto the mesh bridge over the water, pulling hard and yanking the structure down, bringing the four elves manning their stations down into the water. Immediately, they disappeared under the surface, and dark red blotches took their place. Cannoning out of the water came a half dozen forms, all of them lanky, grotesque and overextended, it seemed. All of them with yellow gems in their foreheads.

"METAL HEADS!" screamed Dortmund, and the workers fled, panicking as they attempted to get away while the Hoseheads and Saw Fish immediately set to work hunting them down. Limbs flew, blood splattering as Vin's men died in front of him by the score, and he shrieked as he dove behind his desk to avoid the tattered remains of a corpse sent flying by the Squid Head still in the water, flailing around for something to kill. Nearby, two security guards moved up, clutching Scatterguns in their hands as they got to work, red eco shells booming and dropping a few 'Heads as they moved in.

"SEC HQ, this is Sigma-2! We're under attack, Metal Heads coming in through the sluice gates! Request immediate-"

Of course, whatever the guard was about to request was cut off by the wall behind them exploding outwards, exposing the Metal Head Spyder that had just ripped through. Snagging one of the guards, he casually considered the struggling elf in its claw before seeming to scoff, crushing the man's head almost as an afterthought. Behind the Spyder came dozens of Hoppers, accompanied by a trio of Juice Goons that pushed through the breach, swiftly overtaking the other security guard. Under the mass of flesh, the boom of his gun sounded once, and then he fell silent, all while more and more Hoseheads and Saw Fish kept emerging from the waters.

"Boss! What do we do?" yelled Dortmund as he tossed an eco pistol to Vin, firing two shots into a Hosehead trying to climb up into their office.

In response, Vin did the only thing that seemed to make sense; scramble across the room, smash a fist into the glass panel and pull the red handle on the other side. Immediately, a siren began blaring as red lights flashed.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" Vin screamed to his surviving workers, some of whom tried to defend themselves with large wrenches or even their bare hands. It didn't work too effectively, and as Vin and Dortmund moved to the doors they watched a pair of workers get cut down brutally and torn to shreds still screaming as they were overtaken by the flood of monstrous flesh. Everyone else ran for the security doors, where they made a final stand to buy as much time for everyone to get out. But as the meter-thick doors closed on the carnage, Vin could still hear the screams of his workers as they were eaten alive, their flesh shredded and their blood spraying everywhere.

Captain Torn didn't much like garrison work. Trapped inside the city, he should feel safe, but he had already been on two combat tours outside the walls in a year of service, and now all he could see were killzones, ambush spots, bottlenecks and weaknesses to cover. Haven didn't feel safe, it felt like a death trap. It was a common problem other KG officers and troopers suffered from after being out in the numerous combat zones of the Wastelands and the Forbidden Jungle. His last tour had been to the failed siege of the Metal Head Nest, where a wounded Baron had finally passed down word to pull back to the city. They'd lost a lot of troopers, tanks and cruisers trying to take the fight to the enemy, and all for what?

As an officer, Torn had his own quarters, the floor above his company. Normally, his junior officers were supposed to also have their own rooms. If any were left. No, all of his lieutenants had been torn apart by Metal Heads already, the same that had happened to a large portion of his troopers. By Mar, he barely had enough sergeants left to coordinate squads, and put together they might have a single platoon's worth of men and women. But Karnifex Company was essentially finished, so far as their future looked. They'd probably be folded into another understrength unit while Torn went on to face the court-martial he deserved.

Did he forget to mention he'd been staring at his reflection in his bathroom mirror since 0300 this morning?

With an irritated grunt, he pulled the cabinet open, retrieving his razor and cream quickly. The clock on the wall was flashing 0524, and his men were supposed to report for inspection at 0600. Karnifex presumably were almost done with their own personal hygiene, if the water he could hear in the pipes was any presumption. Even in transition, Krimzon Guardsmen were trained to move quickly on everything. If it could be done in five minutes, it could be done in four. That was a saying as common as facial tattoos, and Torn made sure the men and women under his command lived it. That had saved lives in the past.

With several quick swipes, he pulled the razor over his cheeks and chin, and the little red stubble that had been present was immediately discarded, washed away in the sink as he patted a cloth over his face, his eyes down. He'd rather not look himself in the face again, might get stuck for a few more hours in self-pity.

Next came the uniform. As an officer, he had a little more flexibility in how he wore his garb. So far as he had heard, newly promoted Commander Erol still bore his Kommando jumpsuit, and then there were other officers like Major Hazlin, Captain Rupertikjakmos and Lieutenant Praxis…

Ashelin.

He had to stop thinking of her. Back to the task of his uniform. Grey field jacket, trousers, chest armor, tactical vest. He considered the other plates, but after a moment left them in there, settling for his shoulder pauldrons. His troopers weren't in full armor today either. They were free to travel around today while he took care of administrative tasks. Just busy work until they got around to disciplining him. Kommand just had to work through the broken wreck of an army that had returned from the Nest.

His hand reached to pull out the wicked, curved blade he had stashed in the bottom of his foot locker. The last gift from Master Sergeant Wulfe. Made of Metalpede carapace and sharp enough to split hairs, it was a wonderous weapon. Torn had already put it to use avenging his men on Metal Heads skulls, but the ledger had yet to even out. To him, it never would. But then again, he'd probably never get the chance to settle the score. He grunted, strapping the knife on over his chest and fishing out his dress cap. At the very least, he could give the impression of being an officer before they hauled him off to the Fortress.

Finally, Torn stood and addressed himself in the mirror. Just as he'd expected, the view that looked back was that of a decorated captain, armor and uniform kept in perfect condition, not a hair out of place on his head and officer's cap positioned to the closest degree of being completely straight.

"C'mon, Keane," he muttered to himself. "Let's go play soldier."

As expected, the second he opened the door downstairs to Karnifex Company's drill pad outside, he was answered with the cry of "Company! Atten-HUT!"

The clap of thirty-four boots answered the cry, and Torn looked out at what was left of his unit. Most of them were too young, elves that had been conscripted or forced into enlisting in order to give their families a place to live outside of the Slums. He spotted several that looked like they had been drafted from here, the Dykes District, street punks used to the undercity carved below their feet. Standing before the three rows of his men, four figures stood at their fore. Staff Sergeant Dortmund, the sensible veteran with buckets more experience than Torn had. She'd probably get promoted to Gunnery Sergeant, given a much more prestigious position with her clean career. Well, aside from this one blemish. Sergeant Yelwin, the newest sergeant he had. Yelwin's own cheery outlook had been tarnished by their last tour, and Torn knew that every smile the former jokester cracked was forced, every joke recalled and recited from memory rather than an actual sense of humor today. Yelwin was broken, somewhere inside. Sergeant Karper, the intellectual. Rather than keep pushing as an enlisted man, Karper had applied to attend War College, and earn his commission as a lieutenant. Torn wished him luck. At least someone was pushing for brighter horizons.

And, finally, Gunnery Sergeant Ramos. He'd taken over as senior company NCO after Wulfe had been speared by a Mantis claw during the Siege. Now, he was in charge of managing a multitude of misfits and remnants pulled from the ruins of four platoons, a job he often handled the details of everyday while Torn gave the general orders. Today, behind Ramos and the other three NCOs, the thirty troopers they had left stood in their new squads with backs straight, bootheels together and salutes anchored at their brows, fingers barely touching their red caps. But Torn could feel their stares on him. Could feel them leveling their accusations at him.

"At ease," Torn finally called as he took his position at the head of the formation. He saluted Ramos, who nodded and moved to the back of the formation, where Wulfe belonged. Precursors, was he going to let this eat him up all damn day long? Torn shook himself.

"We're still on standby until they figure out what to do with us. Apparently a survival rate of twenty-five percent isn't that uncommon, so Kommand is trying to cut through the tape to get to us. But don't worry. When Karnifex gets our orders, I know you'll all receive the postings you deserve. You've all done me proud this last year, and I'm honored to have been your captain and led you and our fallen comrades as best I could." He didn't say it. No one else had to. His best hadn't been enough, and now he was going to pay for it. But the company stayed silent. Staring. His eyes locked on one elf in the middle of the formation. Lance Corporal Basker. Dedicated trooper. Already decorated twice for valor under fire, and again for voluntary service. This elf had put himself in the line of duty, and for it had been left with psychological scars as he watched his friends be torn apart by monsters. For him and many young troopers like him, Torn had failed. Now, Basker's own gaze back at the captain felt like a laser sight, ready to fire off accusations. None would have been disputed.

Torn finished his briefing. "General maintenance is to be carried out until zero-eight-hundred-hours. At which time, you'll all be dismissed for the day. Let's get the place cleaned up, everything accounted for and then we can go and enjoy ourselves. Curfew is, of course, eighteen-hundred hours. I expect all of you back here at least thirty minutes before that, but that's nothing new. You all can handle yourselves." He nodded towards the back of the formation. "Gunney, take charge and move them out."

Torn almost couldn't move away fast enough. As soon as Ramos saluted him to take charge again, Torn was pivoting away, eager to escape the sight of the troopers he could barely stand in front of.

He almost made it back into the barracks before the alarms started going.

Some would say being the 'princess' of Haven City carried with it a lot of benefits. An enormous palace, an assurance of a career in the Krimzon Guard, the knowledge that she was safe from persecution and random searches. But Lieutenant Ashelin Praxis knew what she was; a golden bird, put into a cage for all to look at. Her medals hung on the wall, her achievements blasted to anyone who would listen. Her posting in the Air Corps meant she was behind the yoke of a Hellcat interceptor, blasting down Metaljackets and other flying terrors.

But she had been given those things. Not by her father, he would rather kill her than submit to nepotism. But by the pressure. Officers who realized who she was and would hold her up for all to see, lest they anger the Baron. Soldiers who backed down to let her take the credit and the glory. She had barely passed Basic Flight, yet had received near full marks on her test sheet. She knew she hadn't done that well.

And now, here she was, standing at the foot of her father's bed, watching the medics try and save his life. Normally, with him out of commission she would take governance of the city, but the Council had stepped in and mentioned her rather low military ranking. They had a point, but Ashelin had mainly wanted to take the post to deny it to…

"Such a shame the Baron is not well," Erol said off the cuff. To anyone else, it might seem a neutral statement to try and make small talk, or even expressing concern over a superior's bad condition. But Ashelin knew the Commander well enough to know that smug tone. Loyal as he was, Erol craved power in any way, shape or form. And being in unchallenged command was the closest he could come to ruling Haven City right now. And the bastard absolutely loved it. "I can't imagine what its like."

"Not so different than when he's on campaign," Ashelin replied, watching Baron Praxis closely. That wasn't far from the truth, actually. Often, when he was leading his armies to buffer and repel the Metal Heads, he would send a message once or twice a week. That was when he ironically felt like a real father, when he would use her as an escape from the war. He would soften, send her a call and ask how she was doing, talk to her for a few minutes as a father, not as a commander. Here, when he was managing the city and making sure the Council wasn't trying to plot against him, he was the Baron, and her commander. She rarely received a 'good night' in the evening.

But now, bed-ridden and pumped full of drugs as he recovered from his wounds, Praxis had softened again. That didn't mean he wasn't suspicious of everyone else that came into the room, and he kept asking her to check the drugs to ensure there was no poison, but sometimes she would sit at his bedside and he, tired and drugged, would talk to her. Actually talk. She hadn't seen this part of her father since her mother had died.

As she had thought, Erol took the meaning differently. "Of course. He's going through so much right now. It's got to be taking a toll on him. All we can hope for is a…speedy recovery." That smirk said Erol hoped otherwise. Snake. And, of course, the prick immediately moved on to talking about himself once more. " But don't worry. So long as I'm in charge, we should be able to protect the city. Until he is ready to resume command of course," he added quickly.

The Precursors must have had a rather ironic sense of timing, as on the heels of his declaration, red lights began flashing. In another room, a klaxon blared, long and slow. The attack siren. Ashelin was already moving with Erol by the time she was aware of her surroundings. The palace's command center was built a level below the main throne room, a necessity when the Baron insisted on personally taking supreme command of his force. Officers and support staff of various ranks were already on multiple consoles, many yelling into communications devices for status updates, recon reports, aerial wings brought to alert and the activation of various forces and contingencies. No one paused when Erol and Ashelin stepped in, though several aides and junior officers stepped forward. Technically, she wasn't supposed to be here according to her rank, but due to the fact that the Baron was her father, once more protocol was ignored on her account. In this case, however she didn't mind. Someone had to keep Erol reign in.

"Commander, the Kadorna dam was attacked. All reports say its Metal Heads."

"How?" Luckily, Erol's brain in regards to military matters stayed on point, and he didn't waste time declaring it impossible. Kadorna was rated as impregnable, so good was its security, and several officers had claimed it might even be more fortified than any other outer site.

"An amphibious assault from the Forbidden Jungle, sir. They swam downriver and infiltrated the sluice gates, then opened up the site for subterranean infiltration."

"What's their status now?"

"Heavy casualties, both among security and workers. Airborne reinforcements have already been dispatched with CAS attached, they'll evacuate whoever is left."

"What's the status on the defensive works?" Ashelin queried, studying the holographic readout of the site. "The cannons and turrets?"

"Mostly neutralized, ma'am. But they weren't designed to fight an incursion from –inside- the walls. Everything was in the wrong place," said an attendant, as if a second lieutenant being there was absolutely natural, despite his own captain's badge. Hypocrites.

"Do we know what their end goal is?" Erol queried, taking a datapad and holding it up to study it while keeping an eye on the readouts.

"Well…if they take the dam, they'll be able to reroute the eco output. That'll hurt us, but Metal Heads have no use for blue eco. They can't consume it, and none of their technology runs off it. They could always destroy it, but we've still got units in the Wasteland, covering the evacuation. This isn't much of an obvious target-"

And then it hit both Erol and Ashelin like a dual lightbulb moment. Ashelin turned away, calling for a roster of all available Hellcats that could be scrambled in a moments' notice while Erol scrolled the map over to Haven City. The other officers were visibly confused for a moment before Erol zoomed in on the Dykes District, just outside the South Slums. And then, of course, his point became obvious.

The Dykes District was parallel to the Pumping station. It channeled the water through there and the blue eco coming from the dam in question. And a lot of its expansion was below sea level, making the infamous Undercity that carved a whole separate district that reached under the Slums. If the dam broke, the valley would send that newly released lake all the way down to the city, where it would only have two places to go; the pumping station and against the walls of the Dykes. And if those walls were compromised anywhere…

"They're going to flood the Dykes," Ashelin said aloud.

"And when the dykes break, the walls flood. And if they breach the walls, the defenses and shield will be compromised. They'll be able to breach the barrier and invade the Dykes, the Undercity, maybe even the Slums and the Industrial district," Erol said, pausing as he considered the situation. Around him, the chaos continued, a little more muted as the officers realized the implications of the Metal Head activity.

Finally, Erol stood up straight, pointing at the Dykes. "Activate every Guardsman we have in those four sectors. Give me air power, mechs, tanks, even reservists! Draft civilians on the street if you have to, but whatever happens, we stand ready when the Metal Heads breach that dam!"

High up in the hills, where one could barely see Haven City in the valley below, a Metal Head Centurion fired a few more shots as the Air Train full of troopers and civilians flew overhead. There were several red-armored corpses on the ground around it, of course, and scores more workers, all of whom were now being torn into by the Leapers and Grunts. They deserved a good meal. It had been a successful mission, after all. Rewards were in order.

The Centurion turned, deactivating his shield before stepping over to his subordinate, the Spyder that had opened the breach. A corpse nearby stirred, and the Centurion glanced at the barely living elf before spearing the woman with a single stab before turning back. With a wave of his clawed hand, he gave his orders.

Deep below, the eco-bombs the Metal Heads had prepared were fastened to the sluice gates, the hydrogenerators, the blue eco battery cells and the very foundations of the dam. Everything was in place. Within an hour of the Air Trains evacuating the survivors, the Centurion stood triumphantly in the dam's control center, a reinforced structure that his strike group now inhabited. The aquatic creatures were prepared to dive as soon as the way was cleared, but the landbound forms would require another route to reach the city.

In the meantime, however, the Centurion raised an arm, pressing a button on the detonator. With a rumble and the scream of breaking metal and groan of straining concrete, the bombs detonated, and they could already see cracks appearing in the wall of the dam, water spilling out as blue eco lanced up and down the structure.

And then, under millions of tons of water newly freed, Kadorna began to crumble under the sheer weight and pressure.

The city would fall this day, as Kor demanded.

(Parting Shots: I debated leaving Torn's first name a mystery because of his rather ambiguous nature, but decided to give him an identity after all. While not used often in a military complex, a first name gives a person a background, a past. And this is a Torn origin story, after all.

Let me know what you guys think! Flames will be used to keep my fire warm. It's damn cold. And, of course, the next chapter will certainly be up much faster than the last!)