Siren: Chapter Two! Yip!

Muse: What the hell...? Yip?

Siren: Eh, I was bored. Yip seemed the appropriate response to a second chapter.

Muse: Disclaimer!

(poof) Torn: Sirens & Muses don't own Jak 3.

Siren: Review please!

The girl smiled genially from her spot on the tree stump. Scratch that, his spot on the tree stump.

"I've seen you every day from up on that cliff," she said, gesturing to a shaded place above them. "But I never had any great desire to speak to you before now."

"Yeah?" Damas said agitatedly. "Why'd you start now? Morbid curiosity?"

"Because whenever I thought about you, I figured you'd be a brilliant, strong warrior who would lead Haven City well." She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose again. "Now I've realized you're nothing but a spoiled, self-serving, womanizing, fathead of a pretty-boy prince. So I decided to spend my time down here, on this stump, in your face instead."

Damas narrowed his eyes. "So quick to make judgments. Get out of my spot."

She leaned forward. "Make me."

He seized her around the middle and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed and beat at him, making his grip slip. She took the opportunity to hit him in the gut, making him drop her. She tried to get up, but Damas grabbed her again, this time upside down. She shrieked and kicked her legs, almost smacking him in the face. He held her tighter as she thrashed and wiggled. "Wait, wait, wait!" she screamed. "Don't move!"

Damas froze at her panicked voice. He was holding her with his arms wrapped around her upper stomach and her spine against his chest. At first, he thought that he'd grabbed her too tightly and hurt her. But then she hissed, "Your arm band…is in…my hair! Get your arm band out of my hair!"

Somewhere in her struggling, her blond locks of hair had gotten caught in his metal arm band. "Okay," he said. "Wrap your legs around my neck, and I'll untangle it."

"You'd like it if I did that, wouldn't you?" she said angrily. "No doing, buddy, I'm not about to let a pervert put his head anywhere near my legs."

"Fine," he grumbled. "I'll just yank really hard and rip your hair out."

The girl sighed. "Fine." She bent her knees, tightening her legs around his neck. "If you say or do anything perverted, I will break your nose."

Damas carefully slid his other hand behind her back and untangled his arm band from her thick hair. "Geez, what did you eat this morning, a metal head?" He groaned, supporting her weight solely on his neck.

"Just hurry up," she said, annoyed. "This is a pretty uncomfortable position."

"It's not too fun for me, either," he growled, pulling strands of blond-green out of the ornate metal jewelry. "Although, I could get used to it," he added, just to irritate her. "It's a pity you're not wearing a skirt."

Damas freed his arm and released her just as she said, "Okay, that's enough!" and unwrapped her legs. She crashed down onto the green grass, grunting as she landed.

"Ow…" She glared at him, enraged, as she stood up. "I can't believe you…you, you pervert!" She slapped him, leaving a bright red mark across his face.

"Ahh…" Damas moaned, rubbing his face. "That stings. You're not very lady-like."

She stomped on his foot. He groaned, at the same time noticing that she was wearing heavy boots, boots suitable only for manual labor.

"Tough shoes for a tough gal, sweetheart," Damas remarked.

"I told you not to call me sweetheart," she said angrily.

"I told you to get out of my spot," he retorted.

She narrowed her eyes. Her beautiful, sky-blue eyes, which he couldn't seem to stop staring into. He shook his head to clear it and stared her down.

"It would seem," she breathed, "that we are at an impasse. Might I suggest a compromise?"

"No, you may not," Damas answered. "I was in that spot first. It's my spot, Tough Gal."

"Well, I'm not giving up," she said, a smile playing on her face. "So I think you're out of luck, unless you want to fight me, Tough Guy."

Damas was slightly taken aback at her abrasive manner. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had never learned to fight. His father had emphasized learning above fighting, so Damas was no warrior. And he was sure that in a fight, even with a five-foot-nothing, spunky blond girl, his ass would be kicked. But he wasn't about to let her find that out.

"Okay, I'll consider a compromise," Damas agreed. "But there's a condition."

She eyed him wearily. "What?"

"Tell me your name," he said.

"…Fine. My name is Alleene."

"Pretty name," he commented. She narrowed her eyes.

"If you're flirting with me, stop," she said. "Here's the deal: I sit on one side of the stump, you sit on the other."

"I'm not flirting with you," Damas said, annoyed. "I'm just…saying…it's a nice name. I like Tough Gal better, though."

Alleene ignored him to sit beside the stump. She pulled a book back and cracked it open, engrossed in her story. Leaving Damas alone.

Good, he thought. Now I can enjoy my time in peace.

Twenty minutes later, he stared into the trees, trying not to be bored. She'd ignored him steadily since opening the book. He glanced over at her.

"What are you reading?" he questioned.

At first, she didn't answer. Then, "The Slaves from Beyond. It's about the plight of Lurkers."

"Lurkers?" The only thing Damas knew about Lurkers was that they were unintelligent and only useful for manual labor. "What about them?"

"Did you know," she said, "that Lurkers are transported in dirty cages, barely six feet wide? And that's if they're legally traded. Lurkers that are sold on the black market are lucky to even get a cage. They're drugged, chained, and dragged through the sewers. Some of them don't even survive the trip."

"Calm down," Damas said, alarmed. She sounded like she was going to cry. "They're just Lurkers."

"Just Lurkers?" She turned to him, jaw set in anger. "Just Lurkers? Don't you understand? They're living, breathing beings, and they deserve to survive. They shouldn't have to live in hiding, isolated from humans, to keep themselves safe. They are deprived of their rights and freedoms, to be enslaved by people…people like you!"

Damas glared at her. "People like me? You make me sound like a monster."

"I hate people like you," she said. "People like you think they can have everything they want. You've never had to work a day in your life, have you?"

"What does that have to do with Lurker rights?" he asked incredulously.

"Everything! As the prince of Haven City, you have incredible influence over the people." Alleene made a noise of disgust in her throat. "Precursors only know why they look up to you, but they do."

"Wait a second." Damas held up his hand. "Lurkers are vile animals. Years ago, Mar fought a war against them beca-"

"If you knew your history," she interrupted, "you would know that the war was fought against primitive, eco-exposed Lurkers. The intelligent, human-like, peaceful Lurkers lived in hidden caves. And you would also know that Mar enlisted their help against the Metal Heads when they attacked."

"Lurkers fought for the Metal Heads earlier in the war," Damas said. "The only reason they agreed to fight against them was because Mar offered them eco."

"No soldier fights for free," she argued.

"This is stupid," Damas responded. "Lurkers are the city's slave labor, and nothing you say or do will change that."

"…Maybe I can." With that, she snapped her book shut and stalked off, heading for the exit. Just as she passed Damas, however, she stopped. "Oh, and I forgot."

He didn't have time to dodge before Alleene's boot slammed into the side of his head. As stars swarmed in front of him, she grabbed his collar and lifted him to make eye contact.

"I am tough," she growled. "Get used to it."