I have decided to come back to this story again, after a very long time.
Disclaimer: I own 0.000% of this story.
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Pain. It radiated throughout Jak's body, every sort of pain that he had ever experienced. He was alive, laying one something hard, a floor, or the ground. The pain continued; he tried to think. He could think of nothing. He was in agony, more pain than when Errol and Dr. Saserpov had tortured him in prison. The heir to Mar lost consciousness, lost in a wave of hurt.
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Daxter was dead. He had to be. After all, there was no way that he was sitting in a window box. No one could defeat him, and humiliate the ottsel by tossing him among the flowers. Flowers which smelled strongly of pesticides. Ugh, it was probably all over his fur, and his nice pants too!
Daxter forced himself to get up, and looked around. Due to his amazing luck, he had crashed into a windowsill when he fell off of Jak's shoulder, and had survived. The flowers that he had landed on had not. He forced open the window, and entered the building, hoping, to find something to eat. None of the rooms he entered had any sort of food within them, not one cracker! Suddenly, Daxter remembered Jinx, he had food! Then Daxter remembered Jak. "I have to save him, yet again. Well, the brave and true of heart have no peace." With that, he opened a door.
A woman screamed. "Giant rat! Shoot it!" Her companion, a rather ugly man with a moustache, pulled out a weapon that Daxter was sure would be banned, and began blowing holes in the wall around Daxter. The ottsel hero bravely jumped through one of the holes, into the wall interior. He crawled around through the muck, getting very dirty as more gunshot blew up the nice wooden floor. Daxter finally managed to find a vent, which he promptly exited, and then ran down the hallway, to an elevator.
The elevator man looked at him, a strange look on his face. "You're that ottsel, aren't you?"
"Yes I am," said Daxter, as he jumped in the elevator behind the man, closing the door before the elevator man could get in. He hit floor 1.
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Jak finally regained consciousness. He was very, very sore, yet that torturous agony that had consumed him had passed. He felt strange, as if something was under his skin, trying to tear out. He glanced around, trying to figure out where he had landed. He was in some sort of warehouse, dark, with many large wooden boxes lying scattered around. There was a hole in the roof, where Jak had smashed through. He opened a couple of the boxes, but found little of interest within them. No guns. Jak walked around the wall of the warehouse, eventually finding a door, made of metal, with a strange sign painted on it. Jak wondered if it was a symbol, of one of the new gangs that were devastating Kras City. He opened the door, finding a long, dark hallway. Jak began walking down the hallway, looking at all of the dismal graffiti that lined the walls. After walking some ways, Jak heard voices coming from one side hallway.
"I still don' like 'em outta towners. Who says we can trust these Havenite fellas?"
"Th' new boss. Wanna go to th' base, see if you can get audience?"
"Nah, 'm good."
Jak curiously walked down the hallway, and glanced into a room with a light in it. The light was produced by a small fire, which three gangsters were sitting around. They were smoking, drinking, and occasionally swallowing small Dark Eco crystals, the newest drug on the streets, Glarxin. Glarxin was a very dilute crystalline form of Dark Eco, but enough to give you a sense of power and strength. It was also enough to make your skin turn very pale, although the dark purple sheen was unreachable before death. That's how it went, when you experimented with Dark Eco. First, your skin went pale, like Dark Jak. Then purple-blue blotches, in geometric shapes, began appearing, like on Maia. Finally, the blotches would cover your whole skin, like Gol. Jak turned to leave, but a voice suddenly pierced through his head.
What are you doing?
The voice hurt, it seared through his mind like some sort of extremely bright light.
You cannot allow wrong-doers to escape justice. It is immoral.
Not my problem. Jak thought.
Actually, it should be your problem. Time to bust out the old guns, don't you think.
This second voice was darker, yet hurt just as much as the first. It began taking over Jak's mind, turning his thoughts toward rage.
No, you cannot allow him to take control over you…
But the cold, light voice was drowned out by the manic laughter of the second, darker voice. And for the first time since the Oracle gave him his light powers, Jak involuntarily transformed into Dark Jak.
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Jinx woke up. That stupid woman had really knocked him out, when she threw him across the room like that. The bomber swore as he stood up. Then he glanced over the balcony. Jak and the mysterious attacker were gone, but a bunch of police cars were parked outside, and he heard voices in the hallway. The police had come to arrest him.
Jinx grinned, like he always did when he was in trouble, and threw a stun grenade out of his door. He then charged through, knocking over the dazed guards as he ran down the stairs. He was home free, back to Haven he would go…
BANG!
A frying pan, swung by the ugly barmaid, smashed into Jinx's head. He crashed into a table as he fell, grasping up trying to hold on. But it was too late, and Jinx collapsed onto the floor.
Jinx tried to rise, but then another person, heavily armed, but not a police officer, charged through the door and punched him in the same spot the pan had hit. The last thing Jinx heard before he lost consciousness was the sound of gunfire.
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Jak felt like a dreamer. Normally, he would be Dark Jak, feeling the same emotions, actually wanting to kill. But this time, it was as if Dark Jak were his own separate entity, a being that had taken over Jak's body, letting Jak simply stare through its eyes like an observer.
You should have let me take over, I would arrest them, not slaughter them.
Jak winced. The other voice, which he assumed was Light Jak, was scolding him for letting Dark Jak take over.
Why have my alter egos developed minds of their own? Thought Jak It must have been that pulse that the woman with the jetpack hit me with.
Suddenly, Jak awoke. Dark Jak had been forced to calm down by Light Jak, and the slaughter was over. The gangsters had been ripped apart, with a force that Jak had never felt before in his Dark form. Back when the darkness was Jak, he felt rage consume him as he murdered those who dared to stand in the way of the dark being. But the Dark Jak that had developed a mind of its own did not attack out of rage. It attacked out of a mad glee, slaughtering in total giddiness.
What have I become?