EPISODE I:
Destiny Calls


CHAPTER 1
"The Worst Day"

It wasn’t a good day.  By no means was it going to end on a lighter note.  From the moment Daxter awoke, he was forced to accomplish tasks far too great for a lone Ottsel to complete.  He was forced to take out an extremely heavy bag of trash that could only be moved by rolling it from one side of Spargus to the dump on the other side.   Worse yet, it rained all day that day.  Why doesn’t Jak do this crap? he thought to himself.  It became clear to Daxter that Jak was becoming increasingly self-absorbed from his acts of heroism over the years.  
Later that evening, Jak gave Daxter a cloth and some cleaning oil to polish the gun turret that overlooked the vast ocean beyond Spargus City.  “I don’t want to see a single trace of grime left on that turret, understand?” he instructed.  Daxter slowly nodded in agreement.  He trudged on to the shore where the massive turret stood proudly, like a monument adored by the citizens of the city.  The first thing he noticed was the sound of the waves splashing against the coast; this was Daxter’s only moment of relaxation throughout the entire day.  He walked across the stone bridge that led to the base of the rock that supported the turret, readying to climb the wooden ladder that could have been fifty feet tall.
Daxter gave an exhausted sigh, already tired from the day’s laborious tasks.  He tucked the cloth under the belt of his pants and tossed the can of cleaning oil to the top of the rock, hoping it would fly high enough to land near where the turret stood.  His little arms did not possess the strength to meet this goal, so all he could do was remove the cloth from his pants and soak it in cleaning oil.  Hopefully this should be enough to clean the damn turret, he thought, although he doubted it would be enough to get the job done.  Once again, he tucked the oil-soaked cloth in his pants, drenching both his pants and elegant fur in the smelly, sticky substance.  
At last, Daxter began the climb to the top of the rock.  From the start of the climb, he could tell the rickety ladder was old and almost ready to collapse.  He took every step with caution; every move could have been his last the higher he got.  Daxter sighed in relief when he reached the top of the rock.  Immediately, he began polishing the turret.  He removed the stenchy cloth from the belt of his now oily pants and began his task by polishing the right barrel of the oversized gun.  The glaring sunset was as orange as Daxter’s own fur, but unfortunately not as soothing.  He often had to shut his eyes for a moment to regain his vision from the blinding sunlight.  He escaped the glare by tunneling his way inside the barrel after cleaning the exterior.  He wasn’t sure if cleaning the inside of the barrel was necessary, but at least it sanctioned him away from direct sunlight.  Daxter was often faced with getting his fur grimy in all possible places, mostly just from cleaning the interior where he was surrounded by the inescapable cylindrical body where he had to clean on all sides.  
By the time he was finished with the interior of the barrel, the sun had set to where it left a dim red-orange light on the horizon.  Daxter continued to polish what remained of the turret.  He couldn’t help but wonder why cleaning this war machine did any good.  It’ll only just get dirty again, he thought.  Despite being short of cleaning oil, he was satisfied with his accomplishment.  He began his descent down the wooden ladder.  
    Daxter was as cautious going down as he had been going up, but when he had made it down two-thirds of the way, he heard a snap! underneath his foot as he took a step.  A rush of adrenaline ran through his small body when he attempted to save himself from suffering a nasty fall by waving his arms to grasp onto a part of the ladder that was still intact.  His efforts brought him no luck.  He plummeted to the base of the rock with no chance of survival.  With last-minute timing, he positioned himself in midair to perform a somersault as he made contact with the ground.  Daxter was alive, but his elbow and both his wrists were numb and throbbing with pain from the impact.  He did his best to hold back the tears.  The only thing he could do now was to return home.    
    To Daxter’s relief, the pain his scrapes had given him wore off for the most part on the way home.  At long last, Jak’s adobe house became visible.  The lights were on, inviting him to come home.  Despite Jak’s attitude in recent weeks, Daxter was happy the day was finally over.  He continued to make his way to the house with a smile in his face.

Just before he reached the door, Daxter heard screaming coming from inside the house.  “Jak!  You monster!”  
Keira!  Daxter knew it; Jak had gone insane.  He barged into the house with a kick to the door.
“Keira!” he called, “Don’t worry, I’m here to save ya!”  The screams were coming from the back of the house.  Daxter grabbed the first object he spotted: an umbrella.  He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him to the source of Keira’s cries of agony.  He came upon a closed door that led to Keira’s bedroom.  Daxter had his umbrella at the ready.  He kicked open the door to find a large hill on the bed moving up and down in an aggressive motion.  “Hey!” exclaimed Daxter.  At that moment, he realized Keira was never in any danger; she and Jak were just having sexual intercourse.  Oh, crap, he thought.  Jak’s head emerged from beneath the bed sheets.
    “Daxter!” he roared.  “You perverted rat!”  He got up out of bed, holding the bed sheet with one hand around his waist.  He marched angrily toward Daxter.  “I’ve had enough of your antics!”  Daxter ran for the door as quickly as he possibly could.  His speed was enough to make it to the door, but Jak caught up before he had the chance to open it.  Jak grasped one hand around Daxter’s skinny torso and chucked him out the window, breaking the wooden bars supporting the frame.  Daxter skidded to an almost bone-breaking stop outside the house, yelping as he hit the ground.  “I don’t even know why I ever let you pal around with me in the first place!” Jak bellowed.  That was the last he heard from Jak.  
    Daxter pushed himself to get up, but the pain in his leg didn’t make it easy.  As he managed to pick himself up, he glanced down at the bottommost portion of his grimy pants.  There was a large tear that nearly reached as far as one of the brown patches over his knee.  Daxter experienced a sudden fury of anger.  At first he walked off in the opposite direction, trying to bottle up his emotions.  Unable to contain himself, he immediately turned around and exclaimed as loud as he could back at the house: “YOU WOULD BE NOTHING WITHOUT ME, JAK!  YOU MAY NOT REALIZE IT, BUT IF IT WEREN’T FOR ME, YOU’D BE DEAD!  D-E-A-D, DEAD!  AND DID I EVER GET SO MUCH AS A ‘THANK YOU’?!  I DON’T THINK SO!  SO YOU CAN TAKE YOUR GLORY AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!”  The lights in the house went dark.  Daxter hated having to yell at Jak that way, but he also knew that what he said was the truth.  Jak would have been brutally slaughtered if Daxter didn’t come to his rescue three years ago.  It was clear to him that Jak was no longer worth sticking around with.  He turned away and walked, limping to wherever his feet took him.  He covered his face with one hand and sobbed.

    About a half an hour later, Daxter found himself at the carpeted stairway to the Spargus arena.  He decided to climb the steps, hoping to find answers from the battle arena where he and Jak took on countless marauders to impress Damas, the late king that once ruled Spargus.  It seemed like hours, but he finally made it to the top of the steps.  Before going into the arena, he turned back at the view of Spargus and sat on top of the steps to catch his breath.  Daxter recovered and pressed onward.  He soon found himself in the dimly-lit arena where thousands of cheering fans once occupied, only to discover how strange the place was in deafening silence.  He stood upon the circular right-hand platform next to where Damas would watch warriors battle each other for their right to survive.  Daxter sat on the edge of the platform, staring into the mesmerizing glow of the lava beneath the arena.  Daxter considered throwing himself into the abyss, but immediately shook his head, dismissing the idea of it.  “What is my purpose?” he thought out loud with his eyes shut.  “What’s the point of existing if no one appreciates what I do for them?”
A thunderous noise echoed through the night sky beyond the roofless dome.  Daxter snapped his eyes open and looked up.  A bright light was visible, growing larger and larger as the noise grew louder and louder.  It’s a spaceship!  The vessel gave off a metallic sheen off its exterior.  It was a Precursor ship, quite similar to the ship Daxter had seen take off hours after Errol’s death.  Unlike the ship from two years ago, the architecture of this ship was more simplistic; it sported a round body whose sides met at the top in a cone, similar to a typical egg.  The bottom of the ship was flat with a single massive engine protruding from it.  Near the top of the ship was a window, probably the observation deck.
Daxter stood up and took several steps backward as the ship landed in front of where he had just sat.  The noise of the engine was deafening, but it came to a stop just as the ship made its landing.  Daxter watched as the lining of a door appeared above the engine.  The door shifted downward to serve as an exit ramp for whoever was about to emerge from the ship.  A familiar silhouette of a rather chubby Ottsel walked down the ramp.  It was the Ottsel Leader.  “Daxter?  Is that you?” he said in his high-pitched British accent.
    “Let me guess,” Daxter mocked, “You’re looking for Jak, right?”  He remembered that all they were interested in two years ago was to show Jak the universe.  Seeing Leader return only fueled his anger towards Jak.  “Or should I say ‘Mar’?” he added.
    “Erm . . . no, actually,” he blinked in confusion, “We’re more interested in you, at the moment.”  Daxter’s anger turned into flattery and uncertainty.
    “M-me?”
    “Yes!  It has come to our attention that you are destined for a greater purpose in this universe!”  
    Weird . . . it’s like he heard me.  
    “If you’d come with us, I’d be happy to explain.”  This was it.  This was Daxter’s one-way ticket out of this life.  This decision required little thought.  Daxter forced a smile and said:
    “Sure!  Why not?”
    “Splendid!” was Leader’s reply.  “Ah!  But before we take off, would you like to say good-bye to any of your friends?”  
    What friends? Daxter thought.  “No.  They probably wouldn’t miss me, anyway.”  Leader was a little taken aback by his reply.
    “W-well, all right, then!  Let’s be off!”  He gestured Daxter to the ship.  “Watch your step,” he said as they made their way up the ramp.  Immediately after boarding the ship, the exit ramp shut and the floor rumbled, followed by the noise of the engines igniting.  They were taking off.  There was a window nearby, revealing how the planet shrank as the ship took off into space.  Daxter never bothered to look.  At last, he was leaving the planet behind.