This is my first fanfic, so please be gentle on her! This is a novelized version of Jak 3, due to hit stores on October of this year. I do own Jak, Daxter, Keira, Ashelin, or for that matter, any of the characters that may appear in this hound. Now, with no further ado, may I present Jak 3!

Chapter 1

The hot waves of heat curled up from the baked dunes of the wasteland. The sun beat down hard upon the hot land, as if angry at something. Thirsty plants dug their roots deep into the ground while their tops fried in the heat. But they would find no water today. They hardly ever did.

There was absolutely no sign of life, it was impossible for anything to survive in the wasteland. Or so the people of Haven City believed. If anyone had been around they'd have seen something irregular. A small dust was being kicked up in the distance. The source was a small transport Zoomer, it's small engines whirring at full speed.

After a while the Zoomer's speed lessened, as did its altitude. The back door opened up before it even touched the ground. The Krimzon Guard used the Zoomer. It had been painted over with a deep, rich blue symbolizing the end of Baron Praxis' rule. Three people stepped out from the back door of the vehicle.

One was an elf of medium build. He had long, blonde hair that reached down his shoulders, and deep rich blue eyes that reflected the very light of the sun. He was clothed in a tight blue tunic and tan baggy pants. A brown leather satchel was slung around his hips. On his feet were large, iron-toe boots. The elf was known as Jak, and he was a captive.

A half-foot-thick cuff was wrapped tightly around his wrists with a small blinking antenna on its top.

The other two people were New Krimzon Guards. Their thick armor matched the color of the Zoomer. One of the hit Jak with the butt of his gun. Jak growled, but did not react. He was in enough trouble as it was. The three of them were closely followed by two more people, one was a man and the other a young woman. All five of him had the long, sharp ears of the elf.

The woman was thin, and very good looking. Her outfit did not consist of much. She wore a blue, tight, long-sleeved tank top that stopped just under her breasts. Her leggings were also tight and blue. The thighs of her pants were cut off revealing the entire outside of her thighs. She had short, blood-red hair that ended in dread locks and a face slightly marred by green, webbed tattoos that crawled about her face. At her side was a small Red Eco pistol. Jak knew this woman well. She was the only daughter of the late Baron Praxis and governess of Haven City. She was Ashelin.

The other one looked to be in his late fifties. His graying brown hair was combed back neatly, except for the bald spot at his forehead. He wore a blue tuxedo and proper black shoes. His eyes, however, were cold and hard. Emotionless.

In one had he carried a Yakow-leather bound book, and in the other a golden baton. He was the High Councilors of Haven City's power broker, Count Veger. A thin smile was spread across his lips. As the group stopped not far from the ship Veger cleared his throat and opened the book. "By order of the Grand Council of Haven City," he began importantly as Jak struggled with the cuff, "for heinous acts and crimes against the people, you are hereby banished to the Wasteland for life." He snapped the book shut and immediately turned back to the ship.

Ashelin stepped out behind him. "This is a death sentence, Veger!" she cried after him, "there has to be another way."

The Count Veger wheeled around angrily. "Your protest was overruled," he spat, "this Dark Eco freak is dangerous! Now drop the cargo!" The argument was interrupted, however, by another voice coming from the transport.

"Thees ees an outrage!" it squawked. Everyone turned to the ship to find a strange little animal sitting there. It appeared to be a crossbreed between a monkey and a parrot. Its head and torso were that of a monkey, but its arms were wings and its feet claws. It was red and blue all over and spoke with a thick Spanish accent. Jak knew this creature was the interpreter of Onin, the blind old fortuneteller of Haven City. His name was Pecker. "I am outraged beyond words...although I do have something to say. Not everyone agrees with this r-r-r-ridiculous - AAAARKK! – Decree!" The monkey-bird stepped back, narrowly avoiding a collision with another strange creature that dropped down from the ceiling.

This creature looked like a crossbreed between an otter and a weasel. Jak knew this creature better than anyone. Its name was Daxter, and it had once been an elf like Jak. Daxter was wearing his usual brown fingerless gloves and pilot-style goggles.

He also wore a deep scowl on his face, which was very uncommon. Daxter's face looked like it was built to smile, so a frown or scowl looked out of place on his furry mug. "Yeah, we want a recount!" Daxter piped in his high-pitched voice.

The Count took a menacing step towards the animals. "Oh, so I see you wish to join him!" he sneered.

"Actually, we are not that outraged," said Pecker retreating slowly to the back of the transport, "farewell Jak! Stay out of the sun! Drink lots of water...if you can find it." And with this last remark he disappeared behind one of the seats.

"Jak?" asked Daxter worriedly.

"Go back to the city, Dax," said Jak.

Ashelin walked over to Jak. "I'm sorry," she said removing the cuffs from Jak's wrists, "the Council is too powerful. There is nothing I" –

"I know," said Jak. He did not look up at Ashelin. He was busy rubbing is wrists.

"You just stay alive, you hear me?" she said grabbing his hand. Jak felt a small metallic item fall into his hand. She closed his hand around it gently with her own. "That's an order. Someone will find you. I promise." With that she stalked back to the transport.

"May the Precursors have mercy on you." Sneered the Veger as the door closed. The transport lifted up and disappeared into the distance. Jak looked at his hand. Ashelin had dropped a small, metallic disk into his hand. On it was a flashing light. Suddenly Jak heard a sound that sounded like coughing.

He looked up to find two small shapes materializing as the dust settled. "Daxter!" cried Jak.

"Don't thank me," said Daxter, wiping the dust from his orange fur. "I'm only here because you wouldn't last a second without me. Okay, tough guy, you got us into this mess. Now you gotta get us out."

"Ah, what a team we'll make." Said Pecker cheerfully.

"Let's get moving," sighed Jak, "but which way?"

"That way!" cried both animals, pointing in opposite directions. The two immediately turned on each other.

"Oh, and I suppose you know where you're going, eh?" asked Pecker indignantly, poking Daxter firmly in the chest.

"Better than you do, bent beak!" retorted Daxter.

Jak groaned. They didn't have time for this. "Let's just move!"

Hours passed. The sun was in the middle of the sky. Jak's arms hung limply at his sides, his throat parched. He had to keep moving. The animals behind him weren't doing so well either. Daxter's tongue hung limply five inches out of his mouth. Pecker landed in front of Daxter. "Thees – gasp – was all your stupid idea!" he said angrily.

"No, it was yours." Daxter said, poking Pecker in the nose. "Only a bird-brain could've thought this one up. 'Let's go weeth heem,'" he flapped his hands, mocking the monkey-bird. "'We'll help together.' You mean we'll DIE together!!...I can't believe the city hates us...we saved those low-lives!"

Jak hadn't heard a word. His mind was wandering to yesterday. How he had walked into the Palace's control room...

"Jak, the city's divided!" rasped Torn. He and Ashelin were standing in front of a hologram of the battle outside. "We have reports that new Krimzon Death Bots are holding the last section of the Industrial area. My men are getting their asses kicked! The KG have a new leader. We're trying to find out who it is."

"I'm afraid I have more bad news," came an all-too-familiar voice. Samos the Sage hobbled into the room. His tree-stump clogs made hollow thunk sounds as they hit the floor. His long beard nearly touched the ground. He was a strange looking creature with his green skin and spectacles with different sized lenses. All two feet of him. "A large group of surviving Metal Heads have concentrated in another section of the city."

Jak placed his hand over his forehead. That didn't make sense. "But we destroyed Kor!"

"It appears that the strongest Metal Heads have survived. The battle for the city has just begun!"

Jak tuned away. This really was happening, and he was powerless to stop it.

"The people are blaming you Jak," said Ashelin...

More time passed. The sun was beginning to set. A bird howled in the background. Jak's legs wobbled and gave way beneath him. He gasped as he fell into the hot sand. Daxter walked on, but not far.

"Great, good plan Jak," said the Ottsel, coughing and giving a light 'thumbs-up' sign to Jak, "a nap would be nice. Just a teensy little rest." He then fell unconscious next to his friend. A small cloud formed where he fell. Pecker was not far behind. He barely had enough strength to flap his wings.

"Oh..." he moaned, "this bird is overcooked!" and he too fell.

Jak coughed as another flashback formed before his eyes. "The Palace..." he choked.

He and Samos were walking on the stone balcony of the Palace. The slowly rotating top gave them a full view of the battle. Blue-and-red lasers shot up from every inch of the city. It was much more horrible when witnessed first hand. Screams of pain and death were everywhere. Somewhere out there Torn and Ashelin were flying in a Hellcat Cruiser surveying the battle. "Report!" yelled Samos into a small radio in his hand.

"It's bad!" came Torn's raspy reply, "The city's become a battlefield." They flew past the balcony where Jak and Samos were stationed. "Mechanized Death Bots are taking the Industrial section, and the surviving Metal Heads have expanded their hold on the west side! We're losing ground on all fronts."

"The Council's meeting tonight in an emergency session," began Ashelin over the radio. "Rumblings about you, Jak, it doesn't look good. They think your friendship with Krew helped the Metal Heads get into the city." Jak remembered Krew. The fat slob that floated in the hover chair. Power-mad. Insane. The traitor.

"You don't believe that, do you?" Jak asked Samos worriedly.

"What's in the past is done," said Samos yelled back over the sounds of the battle. "Right now Metal Heads are assaulting the Palace. They're looking for something and I have no idea" –

His words were cut short as the whistle of missiles ripped through the air. The Palace rocked back and forth as the sounds of explosions and cracking stone filled the air. The Palace slowly began to fall, tilting dangerously downwards. "Yaaah!!" cried a terrified Daxter on Jak's shoulder, "We're going!"

The sound of Hellcat engines roared up out of nowhere. Jak saw Torn and Ashelin pull right up to the Palace. "Over here, jump!" cried Torn. In the nick of time they boarded the cruiser, for right at that moment the palace fell, cracking open and crushing the buildings and people under it. In the very base of the palace a strange white light shone out into the day. It was blinding...beautiful...

"By the Precursors..." whispered Samos...

Heavy footsteps plodded through the sand. Had Jak been awake he would have seen the large people in shining armor. One of them had four horns sprouting from his head, resembling a crown of sorts. "Looks like we've got some live ones." He said, "barely." He nudged Jak roughly with his spear. Jak's hand opened, revealing the small disk. The man grabbed it from his hand. "Here's the beacon we were picking up," he said and he grabbed Jak by the shirt, "who gave you this?" When no answer came he threw Jak back down on the ground. "We'll take them with us, let's move," he said to the other men behind him, "I smell a storm coming..."

Ekobean: Wipes his brow Well what do you think? Please R&R!...and no flames or the guy with the horns will come to your house! I am sad to say that unless Naughty Dog releases another video early I'll be unable to continue until October 19th. Cries