A/N 7/21/23: Eleven! Eleven freaking months! Why you might ask did it take so long to wrangle just one chapter into submission? I blame it primarily on trying to buy a house in one of the worst real estate markets in the entire United States. It's taken up a tremendous amount of space in my head, and outside of a few bursts I just didn't have it in me to write. The search is unfortunately on hold because one can take only so much demoralization, but on the bright side, I finally finished Chapter 36. There's a sketch to go with it, so remember to go to the imgur album (htt*ps:/*/*im*gur.c*om*/*a/Hopu6dr) when you see an asterisk! I really hope you all enjoy it, and from the very bottom of my heart, thank you for sticking with me! I will finish this beast!


"Ashelin," Jak breathed, his pulse leaping into his throat.

"Hands where I can see them," the KG officer ordered.

He slowly stood up and raised his hands.

"Both of you."

Daxter, still on his shoulder perch, did the same.

Ashelin yanked the pocket pistol out of Jak's belt and chucked it aside with palpable fury. "I shouldn't have trusted you!" she snarled.

The irony of her aiming a gun at the back of his head was not lost on him. If only it was possible to find anything funny. "Back where we started, huh?"

"Don't play with me! All along you've been trying to undermine our war with the Metal Heads. Whose side are you on?!"

"What the hell did you think the Underground wanted anyway?" Jak demanded, flaring with indignant rage. "To have a pleasant conversation with the Baron and set aside their differences?"

"Removal from power and assassination are not the same!" she retorted, a note of something like fear in her low, angry voice. "He was never supposed to be killed!"

"Tell that to the Shadow—to Torn. The Underground signed off on this, you know!"

That stunned Ashelin into silence.

Despite his pure hatred for Praxis, Jak felt a twinge of guilt and softened. "Listen, Ashelin, your father's planning something terrible, and if—"

"My father can destroy the Metal Head armies once and for all!" She pressed her pistol harder into his skull.

His eyes nearly joined the words tumbling out of him. "If he cracks open the Precursor Stone, the explosion will kill all of us! The Shadow saw it happen in a vision. Don't you get it?!"

She fell silent again.

"That's right!" Daxter chimed in, irritated and tremulous in equal measure. "Not so hard, huh? Even I can figure this one out!"

"Don't you dare move—either of you!" There was a swish, a swipe, and a faint, dissonant ring.

"H-hello?" A staticky voice quavered out of Ashelin's communicator.

"Vin," she said in lieu of a greeting.

"Oh no, what is it now? I've got my hands full here, you know!"

Jak prayed that the twitchy foreman would back him up.

"You know all about the Precursor Stone myth, right?" Ashelin asked.

"Sure, I did my Econetic Energy Doctorate on Precurian Theoretical Physics. Why?"

"What would happen if the Precursor Stone were to be, say, violently cracked open?"

There was a soft pap—Vin's hand smacking his forehead. "Great! As if I didn't have enough to keep me awake at night, you give me one more thing to dread. Thank you very much!" His fingers clattered a relentless storm of strokes across a keyboard in the background. "If someone actually had the Stone, according to my calculations, a runaway eco surge from cracking it open would theoretically destroy everything."

The muzzle of Ashelin's gun fell from Jak's scalp. "Everything?"

"All things—every single thing! Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna go throw up. Bye-bye."

The connection was terminated, and Jak finally looked over his shoulder. Ashelin stared at her dormant communicator, her shoulders slumping under the weight of Vin's message. "If what you're saying is true…"

"Trust me," Jak affirmed. "We have to stop him."

Ashelin turned and paced toward the alley wall, her leather-gloved fists clenching as if she still couldn't believe it. As if she didn't want to. Yet when she faced Jak and Daxter again, her green eyes were as hard and unyielding as flinty gemstones. "I need to help fix this. Assuming your stunt at the stadium hasn't halted operations, my father is supposed to meet with Krew at a secret weapons factory near the dig. I don't know all the details, but it must be about the Stone. Maybe we can stop him, sabotage the weapon…" She strode away and paused at the alley's entrance, raising an impatient, red brow. "Are you coming or not?"

Jak exchanged a sidelong glance with Daxter before jogging after her.


As soon as the first gunshot rang out from the track, the stands erupted into a fullblown panic. It was all Keira could do to avoid being trampled as the skybox emptied. The flood of bodies carried her past the soldiers scrambling through the Stadium's halls and out to the relative safety of the plaza. She might have been pleased if Daxter hadn't immediately run off or if she wasn't still reeling from the race and its aftermath. Now she would have to leave the premises alone, and she bitterly snatched her communicator off her belt as she hurried to her parked zoomer.

The streets of Main Town were surreal in their normalcy. News of the attempt on the Baron's life, mere minutes old, had yet to spread more than a city block. Once the canal was in sight, the only sign that something was wrong was the amount of Krimzon Guards speeding through the streets.

Keira paid them no mind as she sternly drove alongside the canal, and before long she was pulling up outside the opulent entrance to High Society. This time there was no need to bother with the charade of donning a dress and fancy hairstyle. When she approached the bouncer, still robed in the same black sunglasses and tailored suit, she was expected. "I have an appointment with Gilda."

The bouncer held his meaty fingers to his earpiece, listening to instructions that she couldn't hear. Several beats later, he unclipped the velvet rope and offered an enigmatic nod.

"Thanks a lot." The sweetness in Keira's voice was performative and brittle. She had no patience for any of this.

In stark contrast to her first time in the gilded entrance hall, she drew stares from just about every other guest of the establishment; bewildered, critical stares that judged her for daring to sully their eyes with her unadorned appearance. She held her head high, refusing to give any of them a chance to rob her of her dignity. Flanked by suited guards, she marched up the grand staircase and down polished hallways to the private elevator that went to only one place—Gilda's office.

The ganglady stood beside one of her handsome bookshelves, resplendent in a gown of buttery yellow silk. The bright hue reflected her triumphant mood, and she beamed widely at Keira. "Ah, the woman of the hour!" With a flick of her white-gloved fingers, one of her bodyguards stepped forward bearing a tray of sparkling wine and two crystal flutes.

Keira held up her hand. "Thanks, but I won't be staying long."

"Nonsense! The end of a successful business transaction must be celebrated, especially if the competition has been so gloriously crushed along the way."

"No, really, I have to—"

"I insist." Gilda's tone suggested it was not only useless but insulting to argue further.

Keira stifled a frustrated sigh as the bottle was opened and the flutes filled.

"Now then, a toast—to the fall of a great rival!" Their delicate glasses clinked together. "That porcine bastard has been a thorn in my side for decades."

Keira took a sip and barely tasted it.

Gilda tilted her head at her guest's utter lack of enthusiasm but otherwise continued her gloating. "Whatever shall I do next?

Keira gave a weak shrug. "I guess take over the whole city?"

"And be responsible for keeping the eco flowing and the Metal Heads at bay? No, I'll leave that to the politicians. Besides, if I ruled over Haven, I might find myself the target of a nasty civilian plot."

Keira hesitated before taking another sip of her wine.

"I must say, I was quite surprised when your driver tried to pull that stunt in the winner's circle—and I'm not easily surprised." Gilda slinked to her mahogany desk and leaned against it, removing a cigarette from a lacquered dispenser near the edge. "You're more dangerous than I thought you were."

"How do you know I had anything to do with it?"

"Oh please." As Gilda fixed the cigarette in a slender holder, another bodyguard produced a mother-of-pearl lighter. "You're a member of the Underground." Her vice ignited, she took a long drag. "And clearly much too smart to let such a plot unfold under your nose. A shame it didn't work."

" 'A shame,' " Keira echoed, and she was reminded of all the suffering Praxis' regime had wrought on the people of Haven City, the irreparable harm to those she cared for most.

Gilda's brassy gaze captured hers, so similar to the late Vivian's as to make Keira's throat constrict. They silently raised their glasses in acknowledgment of their shared loss and took a solemn sip.

"But that's all water under the bridge now," Gilda announced, setting her drink down with uncharacteristic stiffness. "With Krew betting everything on Erol, my interests were assured the moment your boy crossed the checkered line. Well done." Her painted lips pursed on her cigarette holder, and she sighed a billowing plume of victorious smoke. "Your efforts made it possible to squeeze one of Haven City's most infamous ganglords for all he's worth."

"I just did it for the Time Map," Keira reminded her.

"Yes, yes, I haven't forgotten." Gilda flicked a bejeweled finger at the first bodyguard who presented an inky blue velvet box. "You're not staying long, undoubtedly because you need to scamper off with your rebel compatriots."

Keira thought of Jak and ached.

The bodyguard opened the velvet box, pulling its ribbon hinges taut with the ghost of a twang. Inside was an ovular artifact of orange metal, etched with Precursor writing, the barest hint of a crenellated seam dividing it in half.

"Here you are, as promised," Gilda said, her white teeth glinting in a grin that promptly faded at her audience's persistent sadness. "You're still not pleased."

Keira silently scraped her toe on the plush rug. "I've had a…trying day." It hurt her to say the words, as they threw yesterday's bliss into sharp relief.

The lump in her throat lodged ever tighter, and she defiantly picked up the Time Map. The bronze egg was heavy and cold, just as she remembered… And then she was sitting in the rift rider, a salty morning breeze tickling her skin as the spinning gyroscope within was revealed, Jak's palm still resting on the glowing Heart of Mar.

"I'd wager it's a man."

Keira huffed a slow breath as she emerged from her memories.

"Or perhaps a woman."

"I'd rather you ask me why I wanted the Time Map."

"Oh no, that would be a breach of privacy. Terribly unprofessional… But since you brought it up."

Keira stowed the Time Map inside her pack, her movements mechanical and weary.

"What do you intend to do with it?"

She slung the pack over her shoulder and felt weighed down by far more than the artifact. "Make things right."

She wished with every fiber of her being that she had never used the Time Map in the first place.


In the mountains North of Haven City, the weapons factory emerged from the darkness, its silos and towers growing out of the steep landscape like a metallic cluster of tumors. A gargantuan crane rose highest of all, its girders arching over a central tower. That was where Ashelin focused her binoculars.

Her attention firmly elsewhere, Jak studied her. She had said nothing since they piled into her HellCat cruiser and took off from the city. Instead, she coolly concentrated on her vehicle's controls, the dash, their flight path. She was a professional, too adept to let her emotions take over—it was almost as though nothing was troubling her. He wondered if her steely resolve was just her way of coping with the possibility that her father would die, something that never once occurred to him might be hard for her.

"Krew's there," she reported in her husky voice. "And eight of his men. Two are keeping watch."

"Any sign of the Baron?" Jak asked.

"No… Either he's come and gone or is still on his way. And we shouldn't wait to find out."

Ashelin veered down, descending until the HellCat was almost skimming the conifers that thrived in the higher latitudes. Pine laced the air, a fragrant accompaniment to their stealthy approach. Only when they were at the base of the factory did she finally pull up, skirting the perimeter in a corkscrew pattern. They passed by cargo drones hauling raw materials, busy automatons that paid them no mind. Near the top of the central tower, they pulled up on a windy ledge.

"First," Ashelin instructed, her voice low, "we'll incapacitate the lookouts. Next, Daxter, you'll make a diversion. Draw the others off so we can move in and take them by surprise."

"What kind of diversion, Sweet Stripes?"

Her acid green scowl flicked to the HellCat's PA system. "Make use of that loud mouth of yours."

Daxter leaned against the dash. "Roger that," he replied, determinedly unmiffed by the backhanded comment.

"Wait for me to signal you on the comm, and it won't be long before Krew is outnumbered and outgunned." Ashelin addressed Jak with such a level of command that he felt small. "Follow my lead, and don't do anything stupid." She quietly slipped from the HellCat cruiser and up a steel-grated flight of stairs without so much as a backward glance.

Jak hurried to keep up, and before he knew it they were crouched behind a massive ventilation hose, the crane directly overhead. A skeletal frame of girders rose four stories out of tower's center, and it housed the crane's burden—a dark, riveted sphere, nearly a story tall itself. On the other side were Krew and his men, the ganglord's distinctive wheeze carrying on the wind. It was impossible to make out what he was saying, but Jak was close enough to realize Sig stood among their number.

Ashelin peered around the shiny, ribbed tubing of the hose. Then she indicated the two men on patrol, one with his blue hair sculpted into aggressive spikes and another whose face was obscured by bulky goggles. She pointed Jak toward the former and peeled off in the latter's direction, keeping low and silent. He paused, entranced by her receding figure, but for only a moment—thoughts of Keira overtook his senses, so potent that heat shot through his veins. Ice followed with Ryker. He violently shook his head to banish them both.

Around the tower he went, then up the scaffolding of a raised catwalk. Spikey patrolled the top with a blaster in hand, scanning his surroundings with palpable boredom. As soon as he walked away, Jak pulled himself up and brought the small butt of his pocket pistol down—crack!—where the man's neck met his skull. Jak caught him under the shoulders, averting a noisy collapse that would alert his fellows, and pilfered his blaster.

The lackey Ashelin had singled out was already dispatched.

Scant seconds ticked by, and Daxter's projected voice rose above the wind. "You're just too good to be truuuuue—"

Krew and his men started in surprise and looked around for the source of the singing.

"Can't take my eyes off of youuuu—"

Two lackeys charged in the general direction of the HellCat cruiser. Jak circled closer to the remaining group, and Ashelin opened fire, felling the man closest to Krew in three shots. Daxter caterwauling a love ballad at such an absurd time would've had Jak laughing if he wasn't focused on picking off another goon before everyone scrambled for cover.

Sound and fury ripped through the cold night, lacing the air with eco. He kept moving, ducking behind barrels and crates. As he went, he got off a shot. Missed. Another shot. A man fell to his knees. The singing stopped as Daxter evaded capture, but the firefight continued. In less than one minute, Krew only had three bodyguards left.

There was a shrill yelp in the distance—Daxter! Jak doubled back toward the HellCat straining for a glimpse of orange.

"Drop the piece," a deep voice rumbled.

Jak froze. He slowly looked over his shoulder to find Sig pointing Peace Maker at his face.* The wastelander was as hard and unyielding as sand-blasted rock, his square jaw locked and his lip stiff. Not a trace of goodwill gleamed in his yellow-green eye.

Jak grimly tossed his filched blaster aside and raised his hands for the second time that night. With a nudge from Sig's gun, he allowed himself to be herded out into the open.

A half dozen bodies were strewn about, some groaning in pain, others dead silent. Just two bodyguards stood amongst them—a growling man with gold teeth and a pale, bony woman in black. The latter held Daxter in an armlock, leaving his dangling legs to uselessly kick at nothing. Above them all spun Krew, his usually lazy movements jerky and agitated.

"Found this punk," Sig announced, planting the plated muzzle of his rifle between Jak's shoulder blades.

Krew's beady eyes snapped up, his chins jiggling as though they might explode. "You—!" The word was a wheezed curse.

Jak couldn't help but smirk at his former employer. "Is it too late to give my notice?"

"You didn't listen. You ruined me!"

"Yeah, well you had us both shot!" Daxter bit back before Black's skinny arm squeezed the air from his lungs.

"Loose threads that somehow went unsnipped." Krew's hands balled into pudgy fists. "If only Jinx was a better sartorialist." He glared around the catwalks and bellowed, "Whoever else is here, you'd best give yourself up—unless you don't mind losing a boy and his rat."

A pregnant silence followed, the heavy clunk of a dropped gun sounded, and Ashelin stepped out from behind a cooling tower.

A small shock of nerves jolted through Jak—or perhaps it was gratification that the indomitable woman would give herself up for his safety.

"Your eminence." Krew demurely fluttered his fan.

Ashelin surveyed those left, noting their positions and how Gold's gun was trained on her. Last she looked down her nose at Krew, all disdain. "Scumbag."

"You know El Capitan here, eh?" Krew sneered. "What a pleasant surprise."

"What of it?"

"Nothing other than delightful serendipity, I'm sure." The malice in Krew's expression mingled with exultation, giving the distinct impression that he would be all too happy to use the knowledge against her. He floated closer to Jak, appraising him. "So many connections lead back to you. Hmmmmm." Krew's fan proceeded to flutter. "I knew you were special when I first met you, Jak. And I commend you for making it this far. We've come a long way, eh?"

"Yeah," Jak replied, his arms growing tired and his scowl firmly knit. "I'm getting real teary-eyed."

"But this is no time for sentimentality. After all, I have no use for mutts who won't do what they're told."

"Has the Baron been here?" Ashelin demanded, recapturing Krew's attention.

"Mmmmmm, he's still en route. Why? In need of a father-daughter chat?"

"I want the Precursor Stone."

"Now why would I know anything about that, eh?"

"Because my father hired you to design a weapon in secret—something capable of cracking open the Stone. Now where is it?"

Krew leered, baring his yellow teeth. "You're in no position to be making demands, your eminence."

"If you value your life, you'll hand it over."

"Oh ho ho! Are you going to glare me to death?"

"I don't have to kill you. You'll do that all on your own."

Krew's fan stilled.

"Destroy the Precursor Stone and you'll destroy everything else too."

His half-blind glower narrowed.

"Ask Vin if you don't believe me."

Sig, Gold, and Black shifted, exchanging an uncertain glance, and Krew's confidence faltered. "Th-that dithering crackpot?!" he spluttered.

Ashelin raised her chin a little higher, her bearing queenly. She was commanding everyone's full attention now. "If any of you value your lives, you'll put a stop to this before it's too late."

"No!" Krew snarled. "This deal will go through, or I'll have all your heads for trophies on my wall!"

"If I were a gambling woman, I'd bet that my father's promised you a small fortune. One to replace what you lost. But what good is that if it's ushering in the apocalypse?"

"Lies! You just want the Precursor Stone for yourself—to swindle me again!" Krew's underlings looked genuinely worried now, but he coughed and rearranged his hideous face into a mask of calm authority. "Regardless, I can't give you the Stone. All I have here is the payload." He gestured up at the sinister sphere housed above them, and a zealous note entered his voice. "And what a payload it is… You know, I love weapons. I love how they look, how they feel, even how they smell."

His fan fluttered faster, and it was enough to make Jak's skin crawl.

Ashelin plainly shared his disgust. "I think you need serious help," she remarked, her lips curled.

Krew waxed on unfazed. "My favorite was the impossibly powerful weapon Mar built to blast open the Metal Head nest. Poor fool died before he could use it. Ah, well. But I have a new favorite—the piercer bomb I've just completed. My masterpiece is powerful enough to crack open the Precursor Stone and release the untold energy inside! And the Baron's purse strings as well." He shot a forceful look at each of his remaining lackeys. "As soon as the Baron brings the Stone, we'll hide it in the last shipment of eco and deliver it to the Metal Head nest. A surprise dessert, eh?" A chuckle burbled in Krew's throat. "But first…"

He waved his fan at Jak and Daxter. "Line them up," he ordered.

Black unceremoniously deposited Daxter beside Jak.

"On your knees!"

The duo obeyed, Daxter rubbing his bruised backside.

"Considering she took the trouble of bringing you along, I do hope her eminence will enjoy watching the light leave your eyes. Sig, why don't you do the honors?"

Jak became all too aware that Sig's rifle was still pressed into his back.

"You're really gonna shoot us?" Daxter appealed to their executioner, daring to look him in the eye. "After all the good times we had?"

"Ha!" Krew barked. "You call running my errands 'good times,' ey? As if that's worth anything? Unlike you cretins, Sig's loyalty was bought and paid for long ago."

Jak cast a glance over his shoulder but couldn't turn far enough to get a good look at Sig. "You don't have to do this."

"Come on, homes!" Daxter pleaded. "Help a brother out!"

"Kill them both!" Krew ordered.

Jak craned his neck further, straining to keep his back level with Peace Maker's muzzle, and his breath hitched. There was obvious indecision on Sig's face, their lives hanging in the balance. "Sig…!" Jak said, his eyes wide.

Sig drew a breath and slowly exhaled. "Yeah… you boys are alright." He swiveled and shot Krew five times.

The ganglord bellowed and bobbed, clutching the gaping holes in his chest, before crashing to the grating below. He landed on one of his atrophied legs with a sickening pop and rolled to a convulsing stop, propped up at an odd angle by the frame of his hover chair.

Sig aimed at the woman in black and the gold-toothed man in turn. Neither rose to challenge him.

"Get out of here," he coldly commanded.

They sprang back, bolting for their zoomers, and Sig finally lowered his rifle.

Krew coughed and heaved, the green of his sweaty suit slowly staining red. "Sig… you—" He violently hacked, blood spilling down his chin, and with a final gurgling gasp fell still.

Jak looked on in stunned silence, gunfire still ringing in his ears. "Why did you shoot him?"

"It was high time, chili pepper." Sig sagged a little, his metal head pauldrons clanking as they settled around his shoulders. "I've been Krew's heavy for years, and I've done some things I'm not proud of. I'd already been thinking of getting out… You just made it easier to make the choice."

Daxter loudly sighed, letting some of the tension leave his small body. "Sig, buddy, you chose right. Thank the Precursors."

Jak approached Krew's corpse, suppressing a shudder. In death, his cruel, corpulent countenance was that much more repulsive. Gem-encrusted jewelry and baubles still decorated his wrists, fingers, and belt, perhaps the only real wealth he had left. The Heart of Mar was among them, dangling over the abundant roll of his hip. Stone-faced, Jak took the ruby and didn't look back.

"So, what now?" Daxter asked.

Ashelin retrieved and holstered her gun. "Get back to the city and find my father. But first…" Pointing a leather-clad finger up, she drew everyone's eyes to the piercer bomb looming overhead. In short order, it was armed, and the foursome piled into her HellCat cruiser—a tight squeeze with the addition of Sig's armored bulk.

"Come on, come on!" Daxter urged as Ashelin pulled away from the ledge. As soon as they were clear, they flew away like a shot out of a cannon. Jak yanked his goggles down to protect his eyes from the whipping wind and began to count. By fifteen seconds he was holding his breath. By twenty-three there was a deafening boom. All thought of time left his head before heat blasted past, jostling the HellCat and the stomachs of all aboard. The weapons factory behind them collapsed into a series of explosions that rolled higher and higher, coalescing into a mushroom of flame that incinerated the night sky.

"WOO!" Daxter whooped, his tail slapping against the seat backs. "To cheating death once again!"

Sig's full lips twisted in amusement. "Seems like your luck hasn't run out yet, doughboys."

"Now hold on! Even you have to admit we're past this making a deal with the devil crap. We've got way more than luck going for us."

"Funny you should say that seeing as the only thing stopping me from popping off your skinny asses was me."

Jak, verging on giddy with the thrill of their narrow escape, couldn't resist interjecting. "Then explain how we almost outgunned you even though you outnumbered us. That was pure skill."

"Because you had my help," Ashelin pointed out, the smirk in her voice audible.

Jak shot her a mock glare, and her taunting smile warmed his aching heart.

A ringing cut the space between them. Ashelin's communicator. She answered with a terse greeting. "This is Ash—"

"The Shield Wall is down!" Vin yelled loud enough for all to hear, his panicked voice a jumble of static. "I repeat, the Shield Wall is down! Sabotage! Kor did it!"

Jak's throat ran dry.

Kor did it…?

"Calm down, Vin, I'll—"

"I knew Metal Heads would be the end of me!" Vin cut her off again, too hysterical to listen. "Oh no… They're at the door!"

"Vin, just hold on!"

"They're breaking through! Too many of them! Ashelin!" Vin's frightened screams cut out. The connection was terminated.