Chapter 4 - Driven by the Sand

-is busy torturing Razor and doesn't notice fan fiction readers-

FF Readers: Ahem! The fan fiction…?

Me: -drops Razor who falls to the ground KO'd- Sorry `bout that! Ahahaha! He snuck into my garage (I know it was him) and tampered with my race car!! >( Now I have no guns, front or back!

Torn: That sounds so wrong…

Me: Shut up, Cactus-Butt! -pouts-

Torn: And why are you calling me Cactus-Butt?

Me: `Cause you're sexy when you're angry! -tackles him-



Chapter 4: Driven By the Sand



It was hot. Too hot, in Torn's opinion. He wasn't as used to the Wasteland's brutal heat as Jak was. Sweat poured down his face as the sun burned his skin. Metal gleamed on his face and right arm, the reaction he'd had from a Shade's bite. To make matters worse…his butt hurt. He'd been bouncing up and down on a Leaper all day since they left Haven City, stopped at Spargus for supplies, and then headed out. It wasn't good for a few things other than his rear end, he was sure of it.

“Jak…” He growled to the man on another Leaper beside him, “How long do we have to do this!? I'm going to loose a lot more then my temper if this keeps up!”

Jak just shook his head, glanced back at Daxter who was sitting on the Leaper's rump, and the back in front of him; searching for the rock with carvings on like Pecker had described. Daxter had Jak's Morph Gun resting in his paws, wary of oncoming Marauders.

An hour later, the wind began to pick up and it wasn't the speed of Torn's Leaper. The wind came from his left, bring torrents of sand with it that stung Torn's face and eyes.

“We have to get out of here and find shelter!” Jak shouted as the gale roared across the desert, “A sandstorm's coming! This wind'll rip your skin from your bones! Hurry it up!”

Torn urged his Leaper to go faster but the animal was exhausted and the sand was now so thick that visibility was becoming difficult.

There was a sickening crunch and Torn's mount toppled sideways, head at an odd angle. It had smashed into a large rock and broken its neck.

“JAK!” Torn howled above the raging winds, untangling himself from the dead creature, “JAK!? JAK WHERE ARE YOU!?”

“Torn!?” Jak came stumbling up to him, hand over his eyes, “Daxter found a cave sort of thing beneath this rock after my Leaper crashed. Look's as though yours did the same thing. Let's go.”

In the shelter of the cave, Torn checked his mutated right arm. The churning sand had polished the stupid things metal and now it glimmered in the small fire that Jak had managed to light with some desert weeds and a bit of flint that he carried with him whenever he traveled (me: Weirdo).

“So now we're stuck here until this storm gives out!” Daxter leaned against a stone wall, moodily breaking small twigs in half in case the fire went out, “We'll all be old!”

“Shut your trap, Daxter!” Torn snapped, throwing a pebble at him, “Your attitude's getting old!”

“So are these adventures…!” Jak commented, digging through his pack to see if they had anything to eat, “And the stupidity of the Freedom Guard, no offense meant to you, Torn.”

“None taken. You're right, though, they have gone soft. Bunch of little girls...!”

“Hey Jak! What's for eats!?” Daxter leaped onto his friends shoulder, “Oh no…”

Jak turned the bag upside down and piles of sand came tumbling out…along with their soiled food. Torn sighed,

“Well, if we don't starve first I'm sure the Metalheads will find we make a good enough meal…”

Daxter screamed and Torn couldn't help but laugh with Jak as the ottsel ran in circles, crying about how he'd never had any kids with Tess before he died.

That night, while Jak and Daxter slept, Torn sat at the mouth of the cave, staring without really seeing at the swirling storm of sand, his mind somewhere else.

The fire was little more than burning embers but even Daxter's snore's and the howling wind combined couldn't mask the sound of steel grinding on stone. Torn was surprised he hadn't woken his friends up; he was raking his claws along the floor of the cave but they never seemed to dull. The blades on his shoulders, wrists, chest, and arms didn't cut him but before they'd gone to sleep, Jak had brushed past Torn and gotten a cut on his arm from the blades…through Precursor armor.

Sparks sprang from the charred wood as the twigs and grass settled. Torn turned and decided to experiment. Thrusting his right hand deep into the still searing hot remains, he felt no pain. And when he withdrew the limp, only soot and dead grass clung to the blades. So, this arm was invulnerable to fire…

“Mmmm…Torn?” Torn looked up from picking the fire remains up in his claws, Jak was looking at him with sleepy eyes, “What'reya' doen'?”

“Couldn't sleep…” Torn said, stifling a yawn.

“Oh…well…get some…you're grouchy when you don't…!” Jak flopped his head back down on his pack, blonde-green hair sliding over his face, and Torn shrugged. He took his own pack and propped it against a rock before laying down on it. He watched the rising and falling of Daxter's furry little chest for a while and then finally fell into Dreamland himself.

A pair of glowing red eyes watched them from a crack in the cave wall, it's darkest pools glimmering with tears and pity as it stared at Torn's right limb.

“Fear, Brother.” Torn turned around and saw Errol standing on the slum road with his arms crossed, “Fear the Shade's mark for it thirsts for blood.”

“Errol!” Torn instinctively reached for his guns but froze when he saw his arm. It was the mutated version that existed in the real world.

Errol's body shifted, turned the color of blood, and there stood Jak, hands in his pockets, with a look of up most pity on his face.

“Jak?” Torn's confusion deepened. This was a dream, he shouldn't be remembering this, living it like it was real!

Jak's eyes turned red and he pulled off his shirt to reveal a long red mark that was identical to the one Torn had on his arm. It ran the length of his chest from a scar on his neck and down to his stomach where it stopped with a jagged end as though someone had ripped it.

“Fear the Shade's power, Brother, you have already seen what it could have done.” An image appeared in Torn's mind's eye. Himself shoving his hand into Light Jak. A wave of fear made his arm pulse and he clutched at it as the red mark began to glow against the black color his skin turned when his arm transformed.

“WHAT THE-!? WHO ARE YOU!?” The seam split with a wet rip and tendrils of steel whipped through the air. They lashed at Torn's face and chest, cutting him, and wrapped tightly around him, pinning his right arm to his side.

“BROTHER!” Jak who was not Jak held his hand out, red eyes, sparkling with tears, “BROTHER! FEAR IT! GIVE ME YOUR HAND! GIVE ME YOUR HAND! I CANNOT REACH YOU! BROTHER!”

Steel hands clamped coldly onto Torn's body, finger's digging sharply into his flesh, and dragging him towards a black hole that was laced with spirals of purple, red, and silver.

“Dark Eco!?” Torn whispered harshly and struggled against the hands. Whatever that was, it was worse than Dark Eco, he could feel it.

“HELP ME!!” Torn was actually scared but thrown off balance because his arm was pinned to his side he could barely do anything to save himself.

“BROTHERRRRRR!” Jak's shape wavered and exploded into a flurry of snow which melted before it touched the earth.

Cold raced across his back and he screamed in fear. An icey steel hand clamped around his mouth, cutting him off. Tears wavered in his vision as he was pulled deeper into the darkness. Pain and cold and fear stopped him from thinking. He was dying…he was dying…he was…

Torn shot up from the cavern floor, slammed his head into a stalactite, swore, and then realized his body was covered in cold sweat. He put his hand to his forehead and then took it away in shock; his right arm was normal again save for the red streak running down it.

“You did well…Brother.” A voice in his head made him turn around franticly and he smashed his skull into the stalactite again, drawing blood.

He collapsed back onto the floor, wavering at the edge of consciousness, and the last thing he remembered was a pair of shining red eyes that smiled at him in the dark.





Mwahahahahahahaha! Evil ending! Who is this mysterious person who keeps calling Torn his brother? What was with the dark hole and the silver hands? Who knows?

Razor: Don't know don't care. Why doesn't anyone do a fan fiction about me!? I'm beautiful! -holds up a teddy bear- Aren't I pretty, Teddy! Yes! I am so pretty!

Me: -knocks him out with a sledge hammer- What a loser! Yeah, anyways, about Jak's hair there…I always thought that if he didn't have his hair slicked back and his goggles on it would fall down in his face and be about to his shoulders. I sketched it once and one of my friends thought he looked sexy. O////O Well, I guess that Torn's dead now, so…

Torn: I'M NOT DEAD!

Me: Oops! Heh…^///^` Umm…okay…I'm just going to go and watch something now…bye-bye! -ties up Razor and throws him in a box filled with spiders before grabbing Torn and running off to watch `Snurks'-

Torn: Haven't you seen this once already?

Me: I wanna see it again! -bares fangs-

Torn: Alright…because AlchemysBloodandDarkEco is being stupid, I'll take over for now. “Next time on `Oblivion's Grip-Episode 5: The Never-Sage'. Jak and Daxter are captured and Torn meets someone who has a problem similar to his own! And he walks around in his boxers again…Oh, what a sexy beast-.” WHO WROTE THIS!?!?

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