Author's Note: Okay, ridiculously long break there. This update is just to let any followers know that I still think about this story and still intend on finishing it. Thanks for reading, everyone.

Praxis, the Baron of Haven City, stared morosely out onto the city from the throne room of his impressive fortress. As always, it seemed, it was raining, and great clots of water slithered across the many glass panels of the throne-room windows, writhing and racing against each other, distorting his view of the streets below.

Behind him, Erol stood at attention on the red carpet, staring at a point just to the left of the Baron's shoulder. Praxis chose to ignore him for now.

Sensing this, Erol spoke out of turn. "How long do you believe our bribery of the metalheads is going to last, sir?" he asked, with thinly veiled conceit.

The Baron scoffed. "Long enough, Erol. Soon Ashelin and her men will find the tomb. Until then, we bide our time - groom a sense of complacency in the enemy - and then, when it is least expected, we strike."

He turned to face Erol, raising his fist in a display of confidence. "I have all the pieces in place, prepared for our final assault. The Precursor Stone is all that remains out of my grasp. And we will have it, Commander. Soon."

The powerful downpour looming just beyond the palace's walls continued to rage, spitting raindrops the size of grapes out of the sky. Unending streams of water flowed across the windows, running shadows over the Baron's hardened face as he turned his thoughts over in his mind.

"We?" Erol muttered, just under his breath. Despite the roar of the storm outside, it was not quite muttered low enough for Praxis to miss.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice low.

Erol only smirked. "I believe I have stumbled across an even more powerful weapon, Sir. I have been working with the researchers, with ancient Precursor technology, and we have discovered..." He paused to grin at the Baron's guarded expression, "...a better use for the stone. A weapon with far more over-reaching capabilities."

Praxis growled under his breath. "What in Mar's name are you talking about, Erol," he scoffed dismissively.

"I know you were disappointed with the outcome of the initial Dark Warrior project, so - I had it reinstated," Erol responded casually. "With additional input from our research I have been able to wipe out every flaw that plagued our initial attempts." Erol's voice began to rise in fever and pitch. "I have created a new Dark Warrior, with all of the strength of the first, with no weaknesses. But more importantly," he punctuated with a knowing nod, "totally controllable."

"Ch. You're in over your head, boy," Praxis chided. "Who've you been experimenting on? That underground informant you captured? You were supposed to be interrogating him, not pumping him full of damn eco."

"But sir, this is such a better use for him," Erol responded, his smirk widening.

Praxis decided to ignore him again, turning back to admire the raging downpour just beyond the glass walls. "If this new warrior of yours is so powerful," he commented, almost sarcastically, "why don't you give me a demonstration?"

Erol's face darkened. "It's currently... not in my possession, but this is of no consequence due to it being under my complete control-"

Most of the remainder of Erol's sentence was overpowered by the Baron's harsh laughter as he turned and began to walk away. "Talk to me again when you have a real solution to this war, Commander. No longer am I wasting time and resources on creating these useless dark eco mutations. Not when the end of this war is already so close at hand."

Erol stared blankly at the back of his Baron's head. He spoke, this time quietly enough for only himself to hear.

"I can end this war right now, Praxis."

Silently, he unsheathed his pistol from its holster and in one smooth motion aimed it squarely at the nape of the Baron's neck.

He hissed, "It's time this city was reclaimed by a true leader, with real power".

A single shot rang out, echoing over and over through the palace's empty halls.

There Erol stood for a moment, savouring the situation, letting it wash over him. The pool of blood beneath the departed Baron increased almost inperceptively in diameter. The rain poured incessently.

After a brief time's contemplation, his face hardened. He turned, leaving the rapidly cooling body behind him. He tore his communicator from its pouch, raising it right to his lips.

"Find him," he hissed.

In a darkened nook of a sheltered alley of Haven City's slums, an idling three-seater zoomer floated a story off the ground, hidden in shadow. Its passengers were silent, the only sound coming from the quietly humming motor. Ahead in the street beneath, squads of guards scoured the area, barking commands into their squawking communicators.

The driver of the zoomer swore under his breath, running a gloved hand through his yellow-green hair in exhasperation. "There is no way we can get to the pumping station with this many guards out." He scanned the area ahead in frustration. "It's ridiculous! I've never seen this many in one place."

"They're looking for us," Daxter commented quite unhelpfully.

Jak turned to Torn, sitting beside him in the passenger seat. Torn, however, didn't look up. His eyes were closed and he was gripping the dashboard with one hand, knuckles whitening, grimacing in pain. His other hand gripped the band around his neck as if trying to rip it in half.

"Torn. You okay?" Jak asked, concerned.

Torn traced a shape into the dashboard with one heavily-pressed finger, which Pecker interpreted. "Erol is looking for him," he said forebodingly. "He must have some kind of control over the collar."

Torn continued to struggle with the collar, his breath hitching and gasping as the other passengers looked on helplessly. Then, in a second, Torn's eyes snapped open and he started clawing at the dashboard with both hands.

Pecker's voice sharply broke the silence. "We need to get out of the car NOW," he said, his voice betraying his sense of panic.

Jak scowled. "I'm not going anywhere -"

"It wasn't a question!" Pecker snapped. "We need to -"

The whole time, Jak had been watching Torn's face intently, and at this point Torn's eyes suddenly darkened, and every passenger was flung violently from the vehicle as thick tendrils of dark eco exploded outward in all directions.

As Jak fell the brief distance from the zoomer to the ground, he heard the seemingly distant scream of the Guard as they approached. He felt the tingling, sticky touch of dark eco saturating the air, and saw only one thing - the eyes of Dark Torn, staring into him, black and lifeless. He hit the ground shoulder-first, and rolled a few times before quickly bringing himself up onto his knees. He stared up at the zoomer. Dark Torn was now crouched on its hood like a skeletal bird, the tangled and broken tendrils of his wings tossing and swaying in the turbulence created by the swirling haze of dark eco. His skin seemed even paler now in the harsh outdoor light. Sparks of energy began to crackle in the air.

Pecker swooped through, barely missing Jak's head as he passed over. "RUN!" It snapped Jak out of his daze, and he quickly surveyed his surroundings to see guards approaching at nearly every angle. Above, Dark Torn raised himself to his feet.

"JAK!" Daxter screamed.

Like an overflowing bath, huge droplets of liquid dark eco began to climb over the edges of the slowly sinking zoomer, dropping to the ground like thick balls of mud and splattering on the ground below. The pavement at the edges of the growing puddle hissed and began to smoke.

Jak looked up at Dark Torn one last time before tearing himself away, and running.