Risen Demon.

Hello everyone. I've at long last managed to summon up enough of my courage to try posting this story, a Jak II novelezation with a few twists of my own added in. Most noteworthy of these being some changes in the morph-gun, an additional weapon that Jak will be carrying as well, plus, if the idea goes over well, I plan on making our hero's inner demon undergo a bit of an evolution at about the halfway point. That, and Errol's "death" will be significantly longer and more painful than what happened in the game.

Pairings: JxK, TxA DxT.

Special thanks go out to Light Eco Sage, who gave me the encouragement and advice I needed to get this thing off the ground.

Without taking up anymore of your time, I'll let you start reading.

Oh yeah, to any lawyers out there, I do not own this franchise, so don't try and sue me.


The pain continued, searing through him as the vile substance continued to be injected. The young elf cried out, unable to hold back the agony. His screams were soft though, little more than groans, his voice was already practically gone from the previous treatments.

Through the pain, questions would occasionally surface.

How long have I been here?

Why are they doing this to me?

Why won't they just kill me?

Are the others still alive?

The thoughts churned through his subconscious mind. And they also haunted his dreams, when he was finally released from the hellish torture of the experiments, and allowed a few blissful hours of oblivion before the next round began.

Finally, after eternity had come to pass, the pain subsided, and the injection process ceased. From his semi-conscious state, he heard three voices. One was the emotionless female voice of the computer that was monitoring the experiment, and the other two were his captors.

"Dark Eco injection cycle complete, bio-stat readings normal and unchanged."

A swear was heard, followed swiftly by a clang as the metallic gauntlet of his main captor smashed into something.

"Damnation! I was told that this one might be different!" the elf known as Baron Praxis snarled, whirling on his smaller compatriot.

"We must face the facts, Sir, it would appear as though the Dark Warrior Project is a failure despite our efforts." the underling said in an offhand manner.

The Baron ignored the other man, and instead picked the adolescent up by his blond hair. He growled as he thrust his face, which was scarred and partially covered by a titanium plate, into his. His one eyed glared at the boy with hatred, and his rough handling rewarded him with a pain filled groan, and the younger elf's burning blue eyes fluttered open slightly.

"You should at least be dead with all the Dark Eco that we've pumped into you!"

Before Praxis could continue his tirade, his lackey cleared his throat.

"With all due respect, Baron Praxis, the Metal Head armies press their attacks harder every day, without a new weapon my men will not be able to hold them for much longer."

The Baron released his hold on the test subject, and stalked over to the edge of the platform that they were standing on. With a white knuckled grip on the enormous Ecoblade strapped to his side, he spoke, his voice laced with quiet anger.

"Commander Errol, I will not be remembered as the man who lost this city to those vile creatures!" the Baron snarled, while rubbing his forehead. "We'll proceed with the next phase of our other plan. Then, I want you to come back and finish this, thing," he gestured towards the boy on the lab table, "off."

Once he was done speaking, Baron Praxis pivoted on his foot, and stalked back towards a warp gate that was at the far end of the modified prison block. Commander Errol, however, lingered for just a moment, before sticking his face into the boy's.

"I'll be back later, freak." he said with an insane glint in his eyes.

As Errol did an about-face and followed his master, the youth let his eyes shut once more. Though his face remained blank, he smiled inwardly. Finally, they were going to finish him off, he would be dead, and free from the daily pains of torture, beatings and experiments. With that comforting thought, he let his fatigue overtake him.

Or rather, he would have, had his now extraordinarily enhanced hearing not picked up the whine of a hover lift rising up the shaft about four feet to his left. With a sound of shifting mechanisms, the lift ground to a halt, and he heard a strangely familiar voice.

"Ding, ding, third floor: body chains, roach food, torture devices."

The voice was high pitched, but obviously coming from a male. He formed a mental image of the creature that was talking, and remembered a strange, orange rodent. He racked his brain, desperately struggling to remember the name of the thing.

"Hey, buddy, I'm looking for a hero, you haven't seen one, have you?" the voice pierced his thoughts again, humorous and filled with mirth.

He suddenly felt a small weight land on his chest, and his eyes slowly opened. He got one glimpse of the being's face, before his leaden eye lids closed again.

"Well that's a fine hello!" the weasel like creature said with indignation "Don't you remember me, Jak? It's Daxter, the one you always had riding on your shoulder!"

Silence met the Ottsel's inquiry. The cheery smile on the former elf's face faded, to be replaced with a dark frown.

"Jeez, Jak, I've spent the past two years combing this city, risking my tail…literally, looking for you, and this is the thanks that I get?!? For once, please, say something!"

Without warning, something within the boy snapped, and he felt, for the first time that he could remember, words rising in his throat.

"I'm gonna kill Praxis!" he screamed, the pain in his throat and fatigue forgotten.

He was silenced almost before the sentence was out of his mouth. Daxter had clamped his small furry hand over his mouth, shutting him up for the moment.

"Quiet!" the Ottsel hissed, looking around frantically, as if expecting a guard to pop around a corner. After a moment, he calmed, and returned his attention to Jak. "Now, just give me a moment and I'll try and figure out the controls to get you offa that table." the small rodent muttered, leaping off Jak and studying the computer controls panel at the side of the table.

But something in Jak had awakened. The Baron and Commander had been overly eager when they decided that the young elf had not been changed by the sickening amounts of Dark Eco that he had been exposed too. A strangely familiar presence awoke within the depths of his weary brain, and Jak felt something swell within him. His vision turned blood red, and animalistic fury filled his soul. A roar caused Daxter to look up, and he beheld his friend. Or, rather, he beheld what had been Jak just a few seconds ago.

Now a monster was strapped to the metal, its skin pale, its hair the ashen gray of a corpse. Daxter saw his own fear ridden face reflected in large obsidian eyes. However, what really drew the attention of the Ottsel was the creature's hands, and what was attached to them. Where once had been fingernails, now stood five inch claws.

With another feral scream, the beast broke free of its restraints. It looked about for a moment, taking in its surroundings. Then it noticed the fuzzy rodent that was an arm's length away from it. With a predatory smile, the monster advanced towards him.

"Uhhh, Jak? It's me, Daxter!" he whimpered as he struggled to maintain control of his bowels.

For a second, the monster hesitated, and then seemed to lose its balance, and moments later, Jak stood before Daxter again. He was panting, and exhaustion from his stay in the prison was clearly etched into his visage.

"What the heck was that!?!?!" his furry friend exclaimed. "Sheesh, remind me to never piss you off." the Ottsel muttered with a sigh of relief, not caring that Jak didn't have an answer, or perhaps he was simply unused to the idea of his friend being able to respond by vocal means. "Come on, tall, dark, and gruesome, I brought you some new threads, now put em on and let's get out of here."

A minute later, Jak stood, clothed in the attire that Daxter had been gracious enough to bring for him, though Jak did not question where he had managed to find them, and as he thought about it, he probably didn't want to know.

The blue tunic stretched down a little past his waist, and brown fatigues and combat boots adorned his lower body, in addition to that, he had a bit of red cloth that came down the sides of his head and pooled up around the lower part of his face. Combined with the matching fingerless blue gauntlets, and IR goggles strapped around his head, the outfit made him look like someone who was about to go to war. Which was just as well, because that was exactly what Jak planned to do once he got out of this hellhole.

Jak considered his possible choices for the moment. Daxter might have been able sneak past all the guards with his small form, but he would definitely stand out amongst them, so that ruled out taking the lift back down. That warp gate on the far end probably just led deeper into the fortress. What to do, what to do?

Then something caught his attention. A carelessly open air ventilation entrance, and beneath it, some stacked crates. Apparently, the concept of someone actually managing to break free and escape had not occurred to anyone who happened to be stationed here. So much the better. With a smile, Jak trudged over to it, and with a minimal effort, pulled himself up into it.

After several minutes of crawling, the elf could see light at the end of the shaft, indicating that he had finally reached the end. However, as he dropped down, he felt the floor give just a little. A moment later, an alarm started blaring, and he realized that he had tripped a guard device of some sort. As the same computer voice he heard earlier screamed of his escape into a restricted area, the young elf did the first thing that came to the mind: he ran like there was no tomorrow.

Faster than he ever had before in his life, Jak raced through the compound with Daxter having a death grip on his shoulder. He knew that he had to move quickly, every moment he delayed meant there would be a few more guards searching for him, and if they caught him…

Furthermore, his options were quite limited, as he lacked weaponry. Up close, the brutal and gritty hand to hand combat he had used against Lurkers might suffice, though the young elf had no clue exactly how potent it would be against someone in titanium-A full battle plate. And at a distance, well, in such a scenario, the gun usually triumphed over the fist. How Jak cursed them for what they had done to him, had he been able to fall back on his Channeling abilities, he knew that breaking out of here would be mere child's play, but the treatments, strangely enough, seemed to have robbed him of his ability to harness Eco and turn it into a weapon. This meant that even in the long run, he was likely to be at a great tactical disadvantage unless he could find a means to recover them, or in the unlikely event that these strange elves had weapons of a caliber equal to the awesome powers he had once commanded.

He heard clanking, and a few of Krimzon Guard came barreling down the corridor. For a few seconds, they looked about. None noticed the young elf hiding from them in the shadows of the hallway. Jak had backed up into the cover provided by some large machines, and now he was praying fervently to the Precursors that none of them heard Daxter's panicked breathing.

After what felt like hours, the patrol passed on, apparently deciding that whoever they were looking for wasn't here. Scarcely daring to inhale, Jak dashed out of his cover, and down the corridor in the opposite direction.

He continued onward, his pace considerably slowed, and his ears twitching, trying to pick up the slightest noise that could indicate a threat. It was a good thing he did, as it was not long before he came across another of the crimson armored warriors. The elf had his back to him, and was apparently oblivious to his presence. For a moment, Jak was faced with the toughest dilemma of his life. He had fought before, he had killed, but never had he slain one of his own kind. And now, despite it all, he still hesitated, unsure of whether he should try to knock the guard unconscious, and risk his reawakening, or end it then and there.

Before he could spend much more time on this potentially life altering situation, he felt that presence rise again. There was a bestial, animalistic instinct quality to its reasoning, and for some odd reason, Jak agreed with it for the moment. The elf had to die, the risk was too great.

Silently, he snuck up behind the elf. Then, in a single, lightning fast movement, he reached around, gripped the Krimzon Guardsman's helmet with both hands, and twisted with strength he did not know he had. In the same moment that the sound of cracking vertebrae split the air, Jak knew that the small amount of his innocence that he had managed to hold onto while in this hell, had just been forsaken. As the corpse of the first person he had ever killed hit the ground, the fires that burned in his eyes changed, becoming chilled and frozen.

Swiftly and silently, Jak policed the body, taking the K.G.'s pistol, as he didn't fancy the idea of lugging around a weapon as large as their blaster rifles, particularly when he wasn't all that familiar with guns in the first place, a reload for it, and some strange blue and red orb that Daxter had referred to as a "grenade".

It was fortunate indeed that he had taken the weapons, as it was not five minutes before Jak had a run in with a four man patrol and found himself forced to use them. Naturally, he didn't hold the pistol tight enough at first, so his initial rounds went wild, hitting everything but the intended targets. As the guards returned the favor, the former Channeler ducked back behind a corner, wincing slightly as part of the wall was blown away. He waited a few seconds, before he readjusted his grip, ducked down and out, and fired a few more times. Unfortunately, what Jak had not been aware of was that this pistol was designed primarily to take down small, unarmored foes, and as such did little more than cause a mild discomfort to his adversaries. He all but jumped back around the corner as the guards unleashed a small firestorm at him.

There was a faint, unpleasant buzzing coming from the gun he held, and Jak realized that it was out of power. After a few seconds, he managed to eject the clip and load a new one in. He waited a few seconds, before popping around the edge yet again, this time aiming for the face of one of his foes. The first three shots missed, but the forth one hit dead on, blasting through the mask the guard was wearing, and killing him instantly. However, Jak had now been pinned down here for what he figured to be about two minutes, which meant that re-enforcements would doubtless be in-route.

"Jak, you got a grenade, use it!" Daxter screeched, trying to press himself into the wall and as far away from any potential harm as he could.

"How?" the elf inquired, staring at the strange sphere.

"Press the two red buttons, and then throw it!" the mutant yelled.

Jak did as he was told, and nearly dropped the volatile explosive when it suddenly ignited, becoming enveloped in a blue flame. Fortunately, common sense told him that even if he was not aware of this thing's capabilities, dropping would be a very, very bad idea. Quickly as he could, he leaned around, and threw it like a baseball. Surprisingly enough, it nailed one guard in the chest as he was kneeling down, and rather than bouncing off, stuck to the blood colored armor. The K.G. gave a quick, panicky yell, before a bluish white explosion occurred, setting off a chain reaction that rattled the whole area as the patrol's own grenades went off.

When the light cleared, little was left of the area but blackened and scorched metal, and the smell of burnt flesh. For a moment, Jak simply stood where he was, blinking.

"Wow, what a bang." Daxter mused, sticking his head out now that it was safe.

Eventually, he reached a section of the fortress that brought a smile to his face. On the far side of the room was an open window, and he could see the city, rundown as that part of it was, through it. The thought of breathing free air for the first time since his arrival to this place, wherever it was, propelled him onward. However, his joy was short lived. He realized rather abruptly that the floor of this place was akin to a grated catwalk, and what looked like a whole division of troopers were stationed below him.

Tiptoeing gently, he tried to ease past the soldiers, who were chatting amongst one another about what could have been going on, one going so far as to ask if this was some sort of drill.

Jak made it about halfway across before Murphy's Law decided to make an appearance. One of the grates had rusted over the years, and was not as sturdy as it might have been at one point in time. When Jak started to put his weight on it, it gave way, nearly sending him down on top of those on the lower level.

A quick jump backwards saved him from certain death or worse, but now the guards knew where he was. All caution abandoned, the young man all but flew across the gratings, the blaster bolts that were slagging the floor behind him added motivation to an already desperate run.

One Krimzon Guard, possessing a little more forethought than the rest of them, fired ahead of the fleeing prisoner. Jak watched in horror as the man systematically brought down the floor in front of the window, rapidly cutting him off from his escape. A growl rose from within Jak; he was not going to be trapped in here like some animal. Ignoring Daxter's screams, and throwing away the practically empty sidearm, he judged the distance, ever widening as it was. His muscles tensed and coiled, Jak sprang.

The few instants that he sailed towards his freedom or recapture would be some of the longest in his young life. Time seemed to slow as the portal to the outside grew closer.

Finally, he flew through it. However, what he had failed to notice until it was too late was the fact that he was now thirty feet from the ground. About half a second passed, and then a dull thump echoed through the back alley.

With a groan, Jak sat up. Daxter was panting heavily from the near death experience, but now that they were free, at least for the moment, he had his trademark grin starting to re-appear on his face.

"Whew, good to be free again ey, buddy?"

"The fresh air feels good." Jak responded, inhaling deeply, and earning himself a look of disbelief from Daxter.

True, the air of the slums was filled with smog and fumes from open sewer lines and such, but to Jak, it smelled better than anything he could remember. Now, if his luck would only hold, and enable him to stay free long enough to remove Praxis' heart from his chest, things would be just peachy.

The elf got to his feet, and Daxter clambered back up on his shoulder. Smiling for the first time that he could remember, Jak started walking. Where he was going, he did not know, but he would think of something in time.

Well, what did you people think? Was it okay, or should I be tarred and feathered for putting it up here? Please let me know, and tell me any adivce, comments, or constructive critisms you might have about it, as I want this to be the best that it can be.