The door to the Underground wheezed open, catching on a few scattered pebbles. Jak hit it with his fist until it shut again. Mar, it's not much cooler down here.

"Is that furry four eyes?" whispered Daxter, peering ahead.

"Guess so," said Jak. They made their way around the bunk beds and stood under the lights. "Hey Brutter."

The Lurker's head snapped up. His fur curled around his face in the humidity. "Oh! Brutter not see brother Jak and little orange one come in."

"How's it going?" Daxter asked lazily, jumping up on the table. Loose papers scattered everywhere as he bent over, examining the mess. "You planning to overthrow Ashelin, too?"

Brutter laughed and pushed some files aside. "Brutter working on Exodus Outlander Program. It give more rights to Lurker tribes. First order; move ancient family statues to safer place." He picked up a map. "This chart of caves and mining facilities under Haven. But it not right one."

Daxter eyed the mountains of papers. "Buddy, if you're looking for one map in this whole mess, you've got a long look ahead of you."

Brutter sighed and nodded. "It very important. Old map, all in green ink."

"Green ink, huh?" Jak shrugged his backpack off and opened it. "I think Torn gave me some discontinued maps when I started working for the Underground. They weren't always accurate, but they got me where I needed to go." The heat had clumped the papers together. Jak frowned and held his pack upside down, shaking it.

With a clunk, the old trophy hit the floor, yellowed maps fluttering down and settling beside it.

"Oh! This perfect!" Brutter snatched one of the maps and adjusted his glasses. "This give sector Brutter was unsure about. This tell good passage through southwest tunnel system. Thank you, brother Jak." He folded the map and tucked it into his shirt. "What that?"

"A trophy," Jak said, handing it over.

"Congratulations," said Brutter. "Look at metal etching! Old fashioned style. Handsome reward for good race time. Brother Jak good with zoomer! Brutter wish he'd taken one home to momma. But Lurkers not allowed to race."

The purple beast looked so fondly at the trophy that Jak found himself saying, "you can keep it, if you want."

"No, no. Brutter cannot accept brother Jak's offer. Trophy has likeness of Jak. It against Lurker tribe laws to have picture of brother. Especially holopicture. Plastic captures Lurker soul."

"But Brutter, it's not me."

"It not?" Brutter stared at the smiling man in green. "Then who?"

"I think it's some old relative of Jak's," said Daxter. Jak rolled his eyes. "C'mon. Nothing this mysterious has happened since that time someone put itching powder in my dust bath." Daxter narrowed his eyes. "I don't know for sure who it was, but I have a very good idea! And he will pay."

Jak and Brutter looked at each other as the ottsel muttered vague death threats.

"Brother Jak keep trophy. It bring good luck." Brutter placed it in Jak's hand. "Find ancestor! Ancestor give strength. Lurker tradition always honor forefathers."

"But Brutter, he's not my-"

"Here, Brutter have polish." He fumbled in his huge yakkow skin bag. "Make trophy shiny again. Brutter love shiny things!"

"Thanks." Jak took the half empty bottle of polish and stuffed it into his backpack. He looked at the metal working again. "How old are you, Brutter?"

"Lurkers age gracefully. Brutter almost fifty seven."

"Wow!" said Daxter, interrupting his own stream of intricate payback schemes. "You don't look a day over thirty two. Seriously. Is this true of all talking animals?"

Brutter patted Daxter's head, sticking his fur up in all directions. "Little fuzzy one have long life! Filled with good things. You helped Lurker tribe, yes yes. Many good things."

"That's reassuring," grumbled the ottsel. He licked his paws and tried to smooth his fur back.

"Did you see this race?" Jak indicated the trophy, then put it in his pack.

The Lurker shook his head sadly. "Brutter slave many years ago. Slave not allowed to attend race."

"Do you know who might've seen it?" asked Daxter.

Brutter shrugged. "Oldest person in world is Onin."

"Hmm," said Daxter. "She is older than Samos, if you don't count all that time travel. And even then..."

"Thanks, Brutter. Good luck with your program." Jak strapped his backpack on and stood.

"Let's go bother Onin!"

Jak waited until they stepped outside to reply. "Why?"

Daxter fanned his face with his tail. "You kidding? We gotta find out who that guy is!"

"He's nothing." The hot air scorched Jak's lungs. He breathed slowly.

"C'mon Jak. The guy looks like you! Even Brutter could see that."

"Coincidence." Jak scanned the markets for shade. He started walking.

"That's a big coincidence. He's at least a cousin of yours. Face it buddy." Daxter jumped, stood on his friend's shoulder, and pointed to an obese man desperately fanning himself in a store window. "Your physique isn't the most common around here. Haven't you ever wondered about your past?"

"No."

Daxter blinked. "Really?"

Jak stared straight ahead.

"Cuz I always figured you'd, ya know, wanna know who your mom was, or something. Back in Sandover you didn't have one. You never wondered about it?" Daxter looked down at his paws. "I mean, what's the worst it could be? If you were a kid here, then you were born here. At least you know Kor's not your mom!"

Jak snorted. "Where was my mom then? The first time we saw the kid he was with Kor. And look at the monster he turned out to be. What kind of parents would give their kid away?"

"I dunno. Maybe you were kidnapped! Oh, the intrigue."

Jak rolled his eyes. "The picture's creepy, I'll give you that. But it doesn't have anything to do with me."

"I think it does." Daxter brushed dust off his knees. "And you gotta go with the animal instinct. My gut tells me something." He paused, tilting one ear towards his stomach. "Well, not in words, but you know what I mean. We don't know what happened to you before you were with Kor. Maybe this can help us find out."

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, right. Like the last few ancient artifacts we found didn't have anything to do with your past," Daxter said sarcastically.

"This is different. Just a beat up piece of metal. Nothing Precursor about it."

"Wouldn't you at least try to find out?"

Jak made an irritated noise. Yeah, actually, I would. But it bothers me. I've gone my whole life not knowing where I came from. He wiped his forehead. And if there's one thing this city's taught me, it's that the more you know, the more it hurts. When you go digging for answers, all you get is mystic riddles and crap. Usually ends in disappointment, lots of people getting hurt... Jak glanced up. No damn zoomers. Gonna have to walk the whole way. He sighed and took a right. Daxter grinned as he recognized the direction they were going in.

An excruciating fifteen minutes later, Jak peeked around the tent flap. "Shh." He motioned to Daxter.

Pecker lay, spread eagle, on the floor. He lifted one wing in Onin's direction. "-as if we could do anything about it! Look at my feathers! I'm sweating oils like you would not believe. Sheesh. You'd think we would have something better to do than sit in a stupid tent all day, listening to slummers whine about the weather. Oh wait. I do have something better to do all day. It involves oasis ponds and birds of paradise. But who decided not to let Pecker fly north for vacation?" There was a pause. "What's that? More are coming? Let them. I am not moving." Another pause. "I don't care if it's not professional! And I am not the one getting all cranky in the heat!" There was a flash of light and a scream.

Pecker's frown deepened when he saw who entered. "RAAAAWK?! I had to get up for you? That's it. I quit." He stepped off Onin's hat defiantly and she clapped her hands. "I've had just about enough!" He waved one feathery fist at the old woman and then faced Jak. "Onin says many happy welcoming things that I am too furious to translate. Sweaty Pits here isn't getting any sweeter smelling, so get to the point quickly. Do not ask about the heat wave or I will cause you unbearable pain."

"I want to know whose trophy this is." Jak set it on the floor.

Pecker huffed. "To my ultimate surprise, Onin is actually interested in answering your question. I should've seen this coming; a long boring lecture that has absolutely nothing to do with me going to a cooler climate." He waited, watching the old woman's hands weave patterns of light through the air. Occasionally she stopped signing to wipe her forehead. "Okay... hmm... okay... I see." Pecker turned and faced Jak. "Onin says she cannot tell you."

"What?!" Daxter pointed. "Look at all that swirly mist! There's an answer in there. You're just not giving it to us." He narrowed his eyes at the moncaw.

Pecker waved his wings defensively, spraying sweat and oil everywhere. "No, that truly is the gist. Onin says that it was not her decision; she simply cannot tell you."

"Why?" asked Jak.

"She says there is a reason you cannot know your past. It is a reason made based on love and wisdom, so naturally, I don't expect you to understand it at all."

"Love? Wisdom?!"

"Please refrain from shouting in the tent!" Pecker flapped his wings at Daxter in irritation. The ottsel grimaced and wiped his face.

"Who made this decision?" Jak asked.

"Ahh. Here we are getting into a delicate situation. Onin says the answer to that question is intricately connected to the reason itself. So she can't tell you."

"You mean someone made a decision to erase my past and didn't bother to see if I'd mind?"

"Basically... yes."

"Was it this guy?" Jak held up the trophy angrily.

"Onin will not talk about that."

Jak scoffed. "Is there anything she will talk about?"

"No." Pecker turned and climbed up onto the old woman's hat. "Wait. She says she cannot tell you anything, but if you look into your heart, blah blah love crap, you will find the answers you seek. But I will tell you something to get you out of here faster. The man on the trophy is indeed related to you. If you had any brains in your head, you'd know that you have more than enough information already to figure out who he is."

"Where do I start?"

"Am I not speaking your language? Onin can't answer your questions! Get out!"

"What're you gonna do about the heat?" asked Daxter, winking at Jak.

"I'm going to sacrifice you to the Precursors!" Pecker launched himself into the air. "Uh oh-" He plummeted to the dirt floor. "You're lucky," he said weakly. "That I am too leaden with oil to fly over there and rip your liver out. Though I'm sure it's much too yellow to serve as a good sacrifice."

"Yealch. Keep your slimy hand... things... away from me. C'mon Jak. Let's go somewhere cool."

They walked out with Pecker still waving a fist at them from the floor.