The Entertainment Archives come from another fic of mine (they're all connected like a sticky spider web of doom!) called A Day in the Horrible Life of Marvin.

Keira danced to Prototype Three and threw a tarp over it. She flicked on her comm. "Computer! Alloygirl done with track. Transport race vehicle Streamline23 to Alloygirl shop. Clearance level BurnMark."

"Clearance approved. Vehicle Streamline23 will be delivered to destination. Please exit promptly; doors will begin automatic lockdown in thirty seconds." The stadium computer softly counted the time remaining. Jak scooped up the ottsel and followed Keira off the racetrack.

"I still can't believe it," she said, wiping her forehead. Keira grinned and pocketed her stopwatch and counter. "Woo! I need water."

Daxter gurgled.

"Yeah," said Jak. "I agree with him." What a ride! I really have to thank Keira for all the work she does. Damn, I'm thirsty.

Keira laughed and they made their way back to her shop. "Ooh, we can do without the extra heat, huh?" She slammed the furnace door shut and turned on the water. "There are some glasses above the sink- hey!" The flowing water turned brown, sputtered, and stopped. "What the-" She turned the faucets on and off. Mud oozed up from the drain hole. The spigot shuddered and a strange noise echoed in the plumbing.

"That's odd," said Jak. He stretched his legs, still wobbly from the zoomer ride.

"Ugh," said Keira. She wiped her hands on a towel.

Daxter kicked the sink. "C'mon! Gimmie some water! I'm dying here!"

Keira bent to examine the pipes. "I don't see any obstructions or lacerations-"

The three jumped as the citywide speakers crackled to life. "Attention Haven citizens..." The stadium supports reverberated in the distance. Ashelin waited for the static to subside. "This is your governess."

"Thanks for clarifying," said Daxter, clamping his ears shut. "I thought they gave the mike to anyone with enough assets-"

"Daxter!" Keira frowned at him.

"Due to the drought, all available water has been restricted to the Farming Sectors. Shortages have been programmed into the city's Treatment System and Plumbing Facilities. They will remain in place until the next rainfall. See your Sector center hologuide for shower scheduling and water rations. All rationing will be conducted in a civil manner."

"Water rations?" Daxter looked horrified. "The slummers are gonna go nuts! There'll be bloodshed in the streets!"

Jak nodded. Keira bit her lower lip.

"Entrances to public water wells and underground streams have been sealed. Do not attempt to break through. Any person found vandalizing a water post will be taken into custody." Ashelin paused. "This is only temporary. Other solutions are being looked into. Also, it is highly recommended that all citizens stay clear of DS 12B and surrounding areas. Anyone who has been exposed to sewage from said Sector is to report to the Palace immediately. Cooperation and calmness are our allies during this trying time."

Jak, Daxter, and Keira winced as the citywide speakers emitted a shrill tone and went silent.

"Highly recommended?" Jak shook his head. "She should put a fence around that whole part."

Daxter scowled. "If anyone infects me, I'll kill 'em myself."

Keira sighed and reached for the jet board. "Something like this happened a year or so ago." She activated it and pulled the circuit board out. "There was a drought. It got to the point where water was more precious than eco."

"Wow," said Jak. "That's kind of scary." People start doing dangerous things when the eco is in short supply. What do they do when they can't meet their basic needs?

Keira set the circuit board aside and tried to pull the engine compartment apart. "Yeah, really. The water slums dried out and they held auctions under the stilted huts." She grabbed a screwdriver and jammed it into the compartment groove.

"Auctions?"

"Yeah. Selling little kids for water, that kind of stuff." Keira hit the end of the screwdriver with her palm.

"That's... disgusting," said Jak. He watched Keira try to pry the jet board open. I feel bad about that. I'm sorry, Keira.

"Who bought 'em?" asked Daxter.

"I don't know. I don't ever want to know." Keira pushed down. "Damn! The paint glued the compartment shut." She sighed and pushed her sweaty hair back. "I can't do this right now. I need a solvent for the paint. And guess what?" She put one hand on her hip.

"Water's the best solvent?" guessed Daxter.

"That's right." Keira sat down gloomily. "I can't do most of my metal work without it. I use it as a coolant..." She looked around her shop and sighed.

"Yeah, not to mention, I'm gonna die of thirst any minute now." Daxter looked up. "Do something, Jak!"

Jak shrugged. "I can't make it rain."

"Hmmph. Some hero."

Jak rolled his eyes.

"Well, there's no use moping around here," said Keira. She glanced around the workshop. "I've got an idea. I think I should go and talk to Ashelin."

"Want us to come-" If I can get Daxter to shut up, I can talk to her while we walk over.

"No way!" said Daxter. "I'm not going back there!" He pouted. "They want my life juices."

Keira laughed. "No, it's ok. I have an idea for you guys, too. Give me a second." She scurried around the counters, clipping tools to her belt. "I was thinking... yes. That should work." She looked up. "Got that trophy you showed me? I have a friend in the Entertainment Archives who might be able to help you." She curled her fingers. "Follow me."

Keira locked the shop and pointed across the hallway. "There's the entrance to the BOTAFEA. Type Alloygirl to get in. There's a retired KG at the bottom of the stairs. Tell him you need to see Marvin and that I sent you. I've never been to the Entertainment Archives, but you should be okay from there."

"Sounds easy enough," said Jak.

"Please let me know what he tells you," said Keira. She glanced at his backpack. "I have a feeling that trophy's important."

"Thanks."

Daxter typed in Keira's password as she left. He wiggled his fingers. "Did it work?"

"I think so."

The door opened partially and two eyes peered out at them, one pink, one white. "IDENTIFY YOURSELVES!"

Jak stumbled backwards. "Uh-"

"I'm Daxter! I helped saved the city! Keira sent us."

The eyes narrowed. "IDENTIFY OTHER PERSON!"

Daxter turned to Jak. "Looks like someone hasn't graduated to full sentences yet." Jak smiled. Daxter turned back. "That's Jak. He's with me." The door slid into the wall. Daxter tilted his head up. "Hey there... Slappy." He patted the man's knees as he walked under his legs. "Don't work too hard."

"Er..." Jak glanced at the huge ex KG and edged around him. He couldn't help staring at the infected pink eye. It was truly disgusting. Especially when it twitched. "Uh, sorry, we gotta, uh-"

"Slappy, buddy, where can we find Marvin?" Daxter peered around the hallway at the bottom of the stairs.

Slappy grunted, clenching his fists. He pushed Jak aside and led them past some broken vending machines and an elevator. "BACK UP!" Slappy whirled around and broke a wooden door open with a high kick.

"Thanks," said Daxter. "So, it's just down this exceedingly dark and creepy stairway?"

"AFFIRMATIVE!"

"Oh, okay." Daxter skittered behind Jak. "After you."

Jak turned to thank Slappy just in time to see the ex KG run down the hall screaming, "DOOR DOWN! BREACH IN SECTOR FOUR! DOOR DOWN!"

"Yeesh," said Daxter, scratching his neck. "I think that guy has problems."

"You think he has problems," Jak jumped as a voice called up the stairs. A feeble light shone at the bottom. "Wait til you get down here."

"That's real encouraging," whispered Daxter. He crouched closer to Jak's shoulder.

"Are you friends of Keira?" the man asked.

"Yeah," said Jak. He squinted into the darkness. "I'm looking for Marvin."

"You found him." Marvin waited patiently as Jak felt his way down the stairs, occasionally grabbing the splintered banister for support. "Welcome to the Entertainment Archives." He held up his tiny oil lamp.

Jak gasped. The place was a cave. Giant stalactites hovered at the edges of darkness, dripping foul water onto the slippery floor. A faint path could be seen disappearing into the distance, worn into the bedrock by years of footsteps.

"You're lucky Cracky isn't here," said Marvin mournfully. "She's insane."

Jak looked at the man. His shirt was at least thirty shades of pink, ripped, stained, and burned. The remains of some pink tulip buttons could be seen at the collar. One arm was in a cast and he had bandages around his legs. His forehead was bleeding from a recent cut. "Uh... huh."

"And you're not?" asked Daxter skeptically.

"No, actually," Marvin blinked slowly. "I'm not insane. Just very, very unlucky." He turned and led the way. Jak and Daxter looked at each other uncertainly. "What kind of information do you need?"

"Well," started Jak. "I have this old trophy. I was hoping you could tell me who won it."

"Certainly," said Marvin. "I finally finished updating everything. It took me months. Not just to put all the records into some sort of order, but to convince-" he glanced around fearfully, "-Skeletor that putting everything on computers would be a good idea."

"Skeletor? Cracky? Why don't I like the sound of this?" asked Daxter.

"Ooh, you better not say that when we get to the main room," warned Marvin. "Be sure to call her Agnes."

"Uh, okay." Daxter made the crazy sign.

"What model or year is it?" asked Marvin.

"I don't know." Jak reached into his bag and pulled it out. "Here-"

"Hold on," said Marvin. He pushed a heavy door open. "Here's the main room. That's Agnes." He pointed to one of the oldest people Jak had ever seen.

Agnes glared at them. "You said 'Skeletor' out there, didn't you?!"

"No, Agnes, of course not-"

"And so did you!" She jabbed one finger in Daxter's direction. "I'd take your hide for earmuffs if it weren't for my arthritis!"

"Hey! Relax, lady!" Daxter gritted his teeth. "I've already had blood drawn today. You don't wanna mess with me!"

Agnes' frown was a sea of wrinkles and baggy skin.

"Eh... anyway. I have to help these people with something in my archives," said Marvin. He pushed Jak slightly. "Keep moving."

"I want those Supra-dull Population Expansion charts done by today!" Agnes rapped her knuckles on her desk.

"Okay." Marvin urged them through the main room and into an adjacent one. He tripped on the doorway and banged his cast against the wall. "Ow!" He rubbed his arm. "Third time today." He ignored Daxter's poorly concealed laughter. "Here, I think this would be the best place for us to go."

Jak and Daxter rubbed their eyes. The room was well lit, a stark contrast from the rest of the Entertainment Archives. A few monitors and computer modules were built into the table and the walls. The place was sleek and clean, though the ceiling was covered in stubby stalactites. Marvin motioned them to sit, then got a good look at Jak. His face went pale. "Uh... uh..."

"What? Is there a Metal Head behind us?" Daxter peered over his shoulder.

"Uh... no..." Marvin cleared his throat. "Nothing." He glanced at Jak. "Eep."

Jak folded his arms. I can't believe it. This guy seemed slightly more intelligent than those superstitious slummers. "Got a problem?"

"No. Course not. Please, have a seat." He folded his hands nervously. Paper cuts ran along every finger. "Can I see it?"

Jak slid the trophy across the table. Marvin picked it up. "Hmm." He held it up to the light. "Holopicture. When were those used?" He muttered to himself for a few minutes.

Daxter tapped one foot on the table, activating a program. A Fine Distance Calculations screen came up. "Hey, cool!" Daxter lay down, typing numbers into the keyboard. "If I were sixty standards tall, and could lift fifty times my weight..."

Jak rolled his eyes. If Marvin can find out who that guy is on the trophy, I'm going to start looking for him today. With the shortage, it should be easy to squeeze information out of people. I still have a bunch of Precursor orbs. That should get me a flask or two of water. Blackmail investment, if needs be-

"Hey, Jak, look at this!" Daxter pointed at the screen. "I could throw a yakkow..." he peered at the screen, "all the way to the Waste Lands! Wow! See? Here's the settings. Wanna see how far you could throw a yakkow?"

"Not really."

"Aww, c'mon. How tall are you?"

"Yeah, that one's a fun program," Marvin interrupted. "Check out the Marley file."

"Okay," Daxter scrolled down. "Heh. Subject: Marley, ex wife. Weight: unknown. Height: unknown. With velocity 15.023 Ss/sec she could be thrown by subject Marvin at least 2 Ss."

"Check out the Snuggles file next-"

"Hey guys?" Jak rubbed his forehead. "Trophy? Please?"

"Aww." Daxter closed the program and rolled into a more comfortable position.

"Right." Marvin pushed the keyboard into the table. "For this program I prefer to use the HoloProfit. It's a different kind of keyboard." A light shone beneath the table, illuminating its surface with hundreds of complex key signatures. "Okay, let's access the Main Frame..."

Jak watched, extremely bored, as Marvin flicked through the BOTAFEA site, the Entertainment Archives Index, and selected the Trophy and Award History Sub-Index. The HoloProfit occasionally threw a fit, its slivers of light dodging Marvin's fingers. Marvin cursed at it.

"Finally!" he said. "Here we are. Okay, I have to select the trophy model." He looked at the one on the table. "Top heavy holopicture with Precursor etching. Plaque. Cross with the following race..." He walked his fingertips across the HoloProfit. "Annual Men's 200 Standard Ring Challenge."

With a ding, the monitor displayed a list. Marvin scanned the names. "Okay, oh yeah, I remember him. It wouldn't be him, that's too recent. Oh yeah, I remember that guy. He died last year. Too young to receive the trophy you have. Hmm... Erol. Definitely wouldn't be him..."

Jak strummed his fingers on the table, becoming increasingly anxious. "Well?"

Marvin shifted uncomfortably. He picked up the trophy and inspected the bottom of it. "There's a possibility it's not in the records because all the primary resources were missing. But I think this was won before the 200 Standard Ring Challenge became part of the Baron's jurisdiction."

"What do you mean?"

"This was won in a slummer race, off record."

"Oh." Jak's shoulders slumped. "Well, I guess that makes sense. It was found in DS 12B."

"Hmm..." Marvin leaned forward and typed faster. "I'll see if I can cross-link anything with Cracky's archives. Maybe there's a rule guide the speedracers used that I can extrapolate a date from. That, plus a holopicture scan, should be enough for the database. If this guy was a popular speedracer, we might find a picture cluster. Visual clues could get you the information you want."

"Uh huh," said Daxter. "You just say that again in smaller words now."

Marvin sighed, covering the sound of the stalactite above his head loosening. It fell. Just before the stubby point could hit its mark, Jak swiped it from midair.

"Hey," said Marvin, looking at him curiously. "Thanks."

"No problem." Jak tossed the offending mineral composite aside.

"As I was saying, if the guy on your trophy was popular, I might be able to find other holopictures of him in the database. Then, if I can't get any more information for you, at least you'll have a good idea of what he looked like."

"What's a speedracer?" asked Daxter.

"Before the Mar Memorial Stadium accepted the lower classes into the races, the slummers held their own. It was very dangerous," Marvin bit his tongue. "Ow." He poked the HoloProfit. "Those circuits were organized by several kingpins, none of whom are currently living. Speedracers made great adjustments to the zoomer, even though no upper class Designer will admit it."

Jak thought of Keira. "Most contributions go unappreciated."

Marvin snorted. "Yeah." He cracked his knuckles. "Okay, I think I got something. This will pull up any pictures, published or submitted directly to the database, that relate to your man there."

Five blurry pictures filled the screens. They had been scanned from yellowed and ripped newspaper articles. Jak squinted, recognizing one. "That's on the trophy," he said, pointing. "But it's bigger."

"It was probably cropped."

"What are these other ones?" asked Daxter.

"Let me filter them..." Marvin tapped at HoloProfit. The pictures sharpened somewhat. "Do you see any patterns?"

Each picture showed the man in a different position, having just shattered the final ring in a race. Jak could see that the man had used at least two different zoomers prior to the one he had used in the 200 Standard Ring Challenge. He never looked at the photographer, but rather seemed to be searching the faceless crowd for something. A few of the pictures had short, unintelligible captions.

"They all seem to be at races," said Jak.

"They all seem to be fuzzier than me," said Daxter, resting a fist under his chin.

"Yes, well... here's something interesting," said Marvin. He tapped at the keyboard. The pictures sharpened dramatically. "We've lost proximity detail, but look at the background." He pointed. "See her?"

"Yeah," said Jak. "Hey! She's in all the pictures!"

"That she is," confirmed Marvin. He turned towards Jak. "What can we extrapolate from that?"

"A girlfriend?" asked Daxter. He raised his eyebrows at the monitor. "She ain't bad looking. Maybe a little too skinny. Got a brush, sister?"

"And he's." Jak traced the young man's eye line with a finger. "Looking for her. At the end of all his races. She's the first one he looks for."

"How sweet," said Daxter, scratching dirt out from under his nails.

"I don't see anyone else in all the pictures," said Marvin. "Just to make sure, I'm having a scan done to determine if there are any other common faces."

"Can you make out the captions?" asked Jak.

"Maybe." Marvin tapped at the HoloProfit. He selected the pictures with captions and enlarged them. "This is going to do horrible things to the quality, but... oh, she's the only one with him in all the pictures. No family or related persons were found. Let's see now..."

Jak pressed his nose to the screen until his eyes watered. Between all the pictures he had a pretty good idea of what the man looked like. Maybe Marvin can do some sort of composite picture, as if we were looking at him head on. Same with the woman. He pulled his face away from the monitor a little. A pang of pity ate through his stomach, startling him. She is skinny. I wonder... how did they live like that? In one of the pictures, she held the hand of a small person, too low to the ground to be seen. A child, perhaps? "Hey, Marvin, do you think they're married?"

"Probably," said Marvin, "seeing as how I got one of the captions legible."

Jak strained forward, reading the Precursor script aloud. "Champ spdrcer Drusus shatters fin ring in undgrnd race. Sry ladies, he's lkng at his love in crowd."