Technically, TECHNICALLY, this chapter has character death. Calling him a "major" character is a stretch in my opinion, but whatever. Consider yourself warned. Peeps be getting deep-sixed.

Happy reading!

The Dark Maker ship gave Sig the creeps.

He hunched his shoulders and readied the Peacemaker. This place made his hair stand on end and he wanted to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. There was a weird sort of…life to the ship, as if even the walls were breathing.

Sig barely got a chance to take in his surroundings before Dark Maker started appearing. He charged his Peacemaker and took aim. The electricity arced out and hit a few of them, tearing right through the shields they had up.

"Knew you wouldn't let me down." He tapped the stock of his Peacemaker twice and took aim again.

The Dark Makers themselves weren't that bad. At least, that's what he thought until the doors opened and Sig found himself in a huge, open room. And suddenly, there were flying ones now, too.

Great.

Still, as far as Dark Makers went, it wasn't too bad. The Peacemaker made light work of the monsters, and unlike with Jak's morph gun, Sig wasn't running out of Peacemaker ammo anytime soon. The only thing the Dark Makers really had going for them was numbers.

But Sig had gone up against enough metal heads in his life. Swarms of creatures trying to kill him was barely that different from a regular day in the Wasteland. He jumped over some kind of mechanical platform and shot down three more Dark Makers.

The more pressing issue in Sig's mind was the weapon he'd activated down below. He was pretty sure he was on a time limit, and though he didn't know exactly how long he had until that weapon powered up, he knew it was tight.

He slid down a smooth, almost ice-like slide and used some rods that were jutting out of the wall to propel himself across some more platforms. He landed hard on his feet and cursed as the shock went through his knees.

He was getting too old for this shit. This is why he needed Jak here, to do all the things young, reckless kids were able to.

Finally, he made it to a huge room, bigger than any of the others, at the center of the ship. Huge Dark Makers lined the walls of the ship, curled in on each other. He could almost feel their energy, the fact that they were alive, and it freaked him right the hell out.

"Yikes," Sig mumbled to himself. "Good thing they're still sleepin'."

He walked his way up to the center platform slowly, cautiously, quietly. Just as he had expected, Erol was there. He gazed around, talking to himself about the Dark Makers, clearly readying himself to wake them.

Sig didn't even bother to announce his entrance. If Erol wanted to play dirty with the Dark Makers…

Well, Sig played dirty very well.

His first blast from the Peacemaker was quick and sweet, but not very powerful. Just enough to get Erol's attention so that he didn't wake up the Dark Makers. The cyborg was knocked ten feet or so, sprawling onto the ground with electricity sparking around him. He sprang to his feet and snarled at Sig. "You're not Jak!"

"I damn sure ain't." The next shot was from his blaster. Erol dodged it and ran at him. "Not today, buddy boy." Sig knocked him aside with his gun, but Erol was quick. He got his bearings back and tackled Sig to the ground.

"Ugh!"

"Die!"

Erol's claw-like fist landed against the side of Sig's head. Sig's head snapped back, hitting the floor behind him. Erol's fist bounced harmlessly off his armored helmet, causing sparks to fly. Erol cursed.

"Your armor won't protect you for long," he snarled. "I'll punch right through it! Nothing can stop pure metal."

"You wanna talk metal? Let's talk metal!" Sig gave Erol a jackrabbit kick in the stomach, sending him tumbling away. He leapt up, staggering on his feet. "Don't forget, I'm not just some Haven pretty boy, like you. I'm a bona-fide Wastelander."

Erol leapt at him, metal parts clanking as he did so. "Then your precious city in the Wasteland will be the first thing I destroy!"

Erol bowled Sig over, seizing him around the waist. They fell back, precariously close to the edge of the platform. Too close for Sig's liking.

"Dammit!" He scrambled to keep ahold of his gun, trying to get the upper hand. If he could…just…get a good shot…

Ah! The trigger. He shot the blaster, causing Erol to quickly roll off him and stand up. Without even standing, Sig shot again. This shot hit Erol in the arm, but the cyborg just shrugged it off with a laugh.

"Is that all you've got? Tsk, tsk," he mocked. "Maybe after I kill you, I'll go after Jak so I can have a real fight."

Sig was on his feet now, getting a little closer, away from the edge and the abyss below. Erol's arm whirred mechanically. Sig could see the barrel of a gun on the palm of his hand. Before Erol could finish putting his gun together, Sig shot once.

The bullet struck his arm in the same place, which successfully stopped Erol's gun. He started again, and Sig stepped forward a little more and shot one more time, this time with the Peacemaker. It hit in the same place, although this time, the force caused Erol to jerk backwards and turn, his back facing Sig.

Showtime, he thought grimly. In a few quick strides, Sig was right behind him. He knocked Erol to the ground with the butt of his Peacemaker and stepped on his back to pin him down. He aimed the Peacemaker right at the base of Erol's exposed cybernetic neck.

"Say goodnight, cherry."

At the Naughty Ottsel, everyone heard Ashelin call for Samos.

"Daddy?" Keira's ears perked up. "What do they need him for?"

"I hope everyone's alright." Tess was still pulling out bar snacks for people to eat. "She said they needed him to bring his medical kit."

Keira's jaw tensed. "Do you think they had some KG's over there, too?"

"Doubt it," Jinx said. He was chewing on his cigar, having been banned from smoking it. "If Veger's the one givin' them orders, shy would they go after anyone in the ritzy side o' town?"

"Honestly, he might have sent them after Ashelin herself." Tess frowned as she dumped a can of stale mixed nuts into a bowl. "If he's trying to seize power…"

Keira inhaled. "...I'm going over there," she said resolutely. "I don't know what I can do, but I don't want Daddy going by himself."

"Hang on a second!" Tess hurried into the storeroom. She came out a moment later carrying a blaster pistol. "Here. It's got a better rate of fire than your old one. Be careful."

"Thanks." Keira put it on her belt and glanced at the door. "I'll call you on the comms to let you know what's happening. And you two be safe here," she added.

"Don't worry about us, sweetheart," Jinx assured her. "I've got enough explosives strapped to me to take down half the damn KG."

"And all of us with them," Tess said wryly. "We'll be okay, Keira. Go take care of your dad."

With that, Keira was gone, off into the city. Jinx grabbed a handful of popcorn out of a bag Tess had found. She rolled her eyes and handed it to him. "Go pass this around, will you?"

Jinx grumbled, but did as she asked. She looked anxiously over the crowd and sighed.

She wished Daxter was here. He had a way of making everything seem…normal, even when it wasn't. If he were here, he'd probably be bouncing from group to group, telling elaborate stories of his time in the Wasteland and making sure everyone had a drink and some food. With him here, it wouldn't seem like anything more than a crowded Saturday night at the bar.

Tess groaned and stretched her arms above her head. Time to face reality, she mused to herself. Daxter wasn't here, which just left her to hold down the fort.

And if that meant bossing Jinx around and handing out stale popcorn, then so be it.

Everyone met at Freedom HQ.

Ashelin and Torn went to find Jak, sitting in the middle of the walkway with an apparently dead body next to him and a broken leg. Ashelin helped him stand up, dragging his arm over her shoulder to support him. "What happened?" she demanded.

"A lot," Jak grumbled. Torn managed to hoist Damas into his arms, groaning with the weight. "Be careful with him, Veger shot him."

"Why'd Veger shoot some random Wastelander?" Torn asked. Ashelin peered over to look at the unconscious king and her face paled.

"…Is that…?"

"He's not just some random Wastelander," Jak explained. "He's the king. And it's a long story."

"He came here?" Ashelin's eyes practically bugged out of her face. "Back to Haven?"

"Look, we can talk about stupid decisions later," Daxter snapped. "Get moving!"

By the time they went back to HQ, Keira was already there. She leapt up from her chair when she saw them. "Jak! What's going on?"

"Long story." With Ashelin's help, Jak maneuvered into the chair Keira had given up. "I'll…tell you later."

"Get that cot in the corner," Torn ordered. Once Keira had pulled it out and set it up, he laid Damas down on it. "Samos is on his way. What should we do until then?"

"I'll keep pressure on his wound." Keira had already pulled out a clean rag and started pressing on it. "Daddy had me do this when the fisherman got bit by the lurker shark, remember?"

Ashelin went over to stare at Damas. "I can't believe he came back." Her eyes slid to Jak. "Do…do you know why he came back…?"

"We needed some backup," Jak told her, pulling the makeshift splint off his legs. He winced as he tossed them to the corner. "I didn't even know it was going to be him until he showed up."

Ashelin hesitated, then said quietly, "Jak. I have to talk to you about something. Something important."

Before she could continue, the door opened again. Samos blustered through, with Onin and Pecker hovering behind him. As Onin settled off to the side of the room, Samos rushed over. "Jak! What happened?"

"Long story," he said again. Samos began to heal his leg and he gestured to Damas. "I'm not that injured, Samos. Go help him."

"And what happened to the Dark Makers?" Samos demanded. He was focused on Jak and didn't even seem to care much that another person was injured. "You didn't abandon the mission, did you, Jak?"

"It's taken care of, don't worry." Jak stretched his leg out and grimaced at the pain. Samos gave him a bit more green eco, clucking his tongue.

"You should have been more careful!" Samos moved the green eco over his calf and Jak felt the bones snap back into place. With Jak now healed, Samos bustled over to where Damas lay on the cot.

"What do we have here?" Samos mused to himself. He examined Damas, poking and prodding him. "This looks like a bullet wound."

"It is." Jak leaned against a table beside the cot. "I healed him with light eco, but I didn't have a lot. The wound's still open."

Samos set his medical bag, a green satchel, onto the floor. "You're lucky I came as soon as I did," he told them. "This much blood lost? I'm surprised he hasn't already bled to death!"

"Well, that is why we called you," Daxter mumbled, but Jak shook his head. "Whatever, you're right, not the time."

"I'll need to clean and stitch the wound up." Samos had the same kind of authority as when they were kids, getting their scrapes bandaged in his hut. "Blood loss is a factor, but now infection is a concern, too. Keira, Jak, I'll need your help. Everyone else should head to the other room, to minimize his risk."

"I ain't leavin'!" Daxter folded his arms over his chest and put his nose in the air. "Just try and make me!"

Samos rolled his eyes. Torn held up his hands and backed out of the room. "You don't have to ask me twice," he said. "I hate this medic shit."

Ashelin went to follow him, giving one last glance back at Jak. "Don't forget," she told him. "I need to talk to you."

"Yeah. Okay." Jak had absolutely no interest in whatever Ashelin had to say right now. He was already pulling off his gloves. "I'll find you later."

While Ashelin and Torn left, Samos continued his examination. He narrowed his eyes when he got to Damas' slack face. "I…know this man."

"It's Damas, Spargus' king." Keira was wiping her hands with a wet wipe from the medical bag. She handed one to Jak. "I told you about him, right, Daddy?"

"Damas?!" Samos jolted at the name and rushed to his head. "Great Precursors…he disappeared two decades ago! I can't believe he's still alive."

"Yeah, well not for long if you don't hurry up!" Daxter was standing on the table, tapping his foot impatiently. "Before you die of old age, will ya?"

"Alright then. Let's get cracking!" Samos reached for his bag, but was cut off by a loud squawk.

"No! Onin says stop!" Pecker landed on the table next to Jak in a whirlwind of feathers. "She says it wasn't supposed to happen like this!"

"What does that mean?!" Daxter screeched, irritated beyond his normal limits. "Is this some Precursor bullshit again?!"

"Yes," Pecker snapped. "Onin says that Damas' survival has put our future in jeopardy. He was never supposed to make it out of the catacombs alive, and now that he has, the future we planned for is fading fast!"

Samos' eyes widened. "Are you saying the flow of time has changed?"

Pecker squawked. "Indeed! And to put it right, we must let what was supposed to happen, happen!"

"Wait." Jak pushed himself off the table. "What does that mean?" Samos was disturbingly quiet as he stared at Damas' face. "Samos?"

Samos sighed and gave Jak a sorrowful look. "I'm sorry, Jak, but...Onin is right. We must secure the flow of time at all costs."

Jak stared at him. "...You won't help him?" he whispered, his voice harsh. "You're just going to let him die?"

Samos closed his eyes and frowned. "I'm so sorry, my boy. I know you think I'm cruel. But time is not something to toy with or to..."

Jak's hearing faltered then, the darkness bringing static to his ears. He was vaguely aware that Samos was still talking, but he'd stopped caring what was being said. The words were not connecting; they did not make sense.

Damas was going to die? No, this couldn't be the end...not after everything that had happened. Not here, in the city that had abandoned him. Them. Not after Damas had come all this way just to save them, just to save him. Jak gripped the edge of the table and focused on his breathing, trying to keep calm. In the distance of his mind, he felt the dark eco slamming against his feelings, his anger and his hurt.

They always did this. They put their future first, ignoring all the people in the present who they hurt. They tore apart whatever, whoever, they needed to build up their own little world of safety and comfort.

He closed his eyes to concentrate, to make sure that dark eco didn't overwhelm him. But there was a voice, dark and clear and honest, that said it would feel so good to let them see his darkness up close, to show them the consequences that came from their actions—!

"I said, give me the damn bag, Samos!"

Jak had been so focused on his anger, he hadn't even noticed that Daxter had moved to the floor. The ottsel wrenched Samos' medic bag from his grip and tossed it up onto the table. As he leapt after it, he grumbled, "I gotta do everything around here...useless old log…"

With that, he delved into the bag, rummaging around for something. "Let's see...bandaids, scissors, laxatives...better leave those, Samos, you're so full of—aha!"

Daxter jumped back out of the bag, a syringe in hand. "Here it is!" He flicked the syringe with a surprisingly methodical confidence and looked up at Jak. "We gotta sedate him first, just in case he moves. Can't fix 'im up if he's squirmin' around."

Caught off-guard, Jak found himself speechless. He didn't quite know what to say. "Daxter…"

"What?" Daxter said. "You think I didn't learn anything from the good doctor? I was on your shoulder when she taught you all the ups and downs and sideways of fixin' up broken people. And where do you think I went when you and Face Paint were practicing all that dark eco crap?"

Jak snapped out of his stunned reverie just as Daxter injected Damas' arm with the clear liquid. The smell of the medication, the way Damas' muscles released all their tension, the warmth of blood beneath his fingertips.

It all came back to him, just as easily as it did in Spargus.

He could fix a bullet hole. He'd done it before.

"Alright," Jak said finally, flexing his fingers to steady them. "Dax, you hand me what I need. Keira, I might need another set of hands. And Samos…"

His eyes swept over Keira, who was looking horrified. They landed on Samos, who appeared somewhere between scandalized and ready to scold. Jak ignored him.

"Just stay out of the way."

Sig enjoyed the feeling of a job well done.

Erol was in pieces at the moment, blasted apart by the shot to the back of his head. Sig looked around to make sure the damned Dark Makers were still sleeping.

Yep. Like babies.

Sig sighed, shouldering his gun and surveying his work. No wonder Jak always looked bone-tired. Poor kid probably did two of these missions before breakfast. And he had to contend with an incessant voice screaming profanities in his ear all the time.

There was a lurch of metal and a flash of light. Sig stepped backwards automatically as a beam of energy shot through the ship.

Shit.

The ground was breaking apart. This must be the weapon, he thought, as he took off running. The teleporter behind him flickered to life. Sig wasn't sure where it went, but if it took him off the ship, anywhere was fine by him.

He ducked and dodged flying pieces of metal and jumped from broken step to step. Behind him, the weapon roared as it tore through the metal and darkness. Finally, Sig did a flying leap into the teleporter and warped away, leaving the Dark Makers—and a nice explosion—behind him.

He tumbled out of the teleporter and into familiar sands. He blinked in the moonlight and grinned as he looked around. "Home sweet home."

Still, this wasn't where he wanted to be. Jak and Daxter had taken Damas to Haven City. Hell, he had no idea if Damas was even alive. He glanced up into the sky and didn't see the Dark Maker ship. Didn't see any Precursors, either.

"You couldn't have teleported me to the city, huh?" Sig sighed and swept his Peacemaker onto his back. He kicked up sand as he made his way to the transport to Haven City. "Fine. I'll go on my own."

Veger was watching the skies; when the Dark Maker ship blotted out of existence, he smirked.

He'd come up from the catacombs, irate at the change in his plans, but no worse for wear. After all, he had succeeded: the Dark Maker ship was gone and he was the sole survivor from the experience. Or, at least, he thought bitterly, the first one.

Not that it mattered. Who would believe a Wastelander, a criminal, over someone like him?

When he saw the Dark Maker ship disappear, Veger pulled up the hood of his cloak and hurried off. He'd agreed to meet his associates at a warehouse in the ruins of Main Town. It was half destroyed, the roof cracked and electrical wires sparking in the back. But it served his purpose well.

One of the former Krimzon Guards was waiting for him. "Count Veger," he said quietly. "Everyone's been waiting for you."

"Have your men been obeying my orders?" Veger didn't give any pleasantries; no time when you were a hero. The Guard nodded.

"We sure showed those Underground bitches a thing or two," he snorted. Veger scowled at the foul language, but he smoothed out his face before the man could notice. "Cleared out the Slums and the Port, just like you said."

"Excellent."

"Er…so you know, sir," the man continued, "some of the fellas in there are little worried. The Governor put out a bounty for us. We've been hiding out here, but…what if—?"

"Allow me to worry about that, my friend," Veger assured him. "The Governor will not be Governor for much longer."

With that, he entered the warehouse. The crowd grew hushed as he walked in, their blue helmets turning to the entrance. He smiled and stood upon an upturned crate. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "I have done it. The threat to our planet is no more."

There were maybe fifty of the KG crowded in the warehouse, and they all cheered at his words. He took a moment to bask in their praise before motioning for them to quiet down. "Not only that," he continued, "but I have a message. A message from the great Precursors themselves, passed on through me, their humble servant."

The crowd reacted exactly as he expected, leaning in closer to hear him. "The Precursors wish for us to continue to purge the world of dark creatures. Further, they have expressed that a new era of Haven City shall emerge. Gone is the reign of Mar and Praxis. It is time, they say, for new leadership! A leader who has shown heroism rivaling Mar himself." His eyes flickered over the eager crowd. "I have been tasked with leading Haven City through the end of this war, and into an age of peace and prosperity."

The crowd broke into cheers again, and this time, Veger let them go on. He closed his eyes and raised his arms. This was exactly as it should be, he thought with satisfaction. Him in the center, where Mar once was, exalted just as the old hero once had been.