"Can you print a picture?" asked Jak.

"Sure, I haven't done layout processing yet with this program, so it'll take a while for me to look it up."

"Thanks for your help."

"Yeah, well, we'll see if I can get this to work." Marvin fumbled with the Index for a few minutes. "Stupid thing." He frowned at the monitor. Then he tilted his head. "Uh oh." A jingling sounded from behind the door. "That can't be go-"

"HI!"

"AUGH! Jak! What is that?!" Daxter hid behind his friend as a woman in a painfully patterned dress barged in. Her teeth, all pointing in different directions, each reflected a singular color from the lights suspended in the mass of hair swept up between her ears.

Jak blinked. Unreal.

"Oooh! Hi! Did Marvin finally commit suicide? Are you new people? We have to check his desk for his note! I collect them, you know."

"No, Cracky, I'm right here." Marvin held up one hand meekly.

"Oh." Cracky covered her thinly veiled disappointment with a dentary-bone shattering grin. "Welcome back, Marvin-Barvin! I see you've risen from the dead particularly early this morning."

"Yes, thank you, Cracky." Marvin had long ago learned to filter out ninety eight percent of what she said. "We're very busy right now, can you go annoy Skeletor or somethi-"

"Whatcha doing?" Cracky leaned forward and squinted at the monitor.

"Trying to operate the phase-top printer-"

"You're doing it wrong," scolded Cracky. "Honestly. How are you going to commit a decent suicide for yourself now? You're not even in the right menu."

"I wanted to do a composite-"

"Yeah yeah."

"For both picture clusters. Filter the distortion-"

"Be quiet, squishy!" She clucked her tongue and tapped at the Holoprofit, humming like a zoomer. "Hrmmm hrrmmm ZOOM hrrmmmmssskkkkkkkzzzzz- eee! Watch out! Crashing zoomer! Hrmmm hrmmmm tap tap tappity-"

Daxter clamped his paws over his ears. "Shut it off, Marvin!"

"I can't," he said.

"-hrmmmm CRASH POW EXPLODEY!" Cracky shot her arms up into the air and waved them around. "Woo!" She touched a button with the very tip of one nail. Two pictures materialized on the tabletop. "I won!" She held them up. "I won!"

"Thanks Cracky," Marvin snatched them from her hands.

She turned abruptly and skipped off, singing the Havenian national anthem.

"That," Daxter said, shivering, "that was truly hideous."

I am never going to accuse Keira of being weird again, even though she doesn't let different foods touch each other on her plate.

"Here you go," Marvin handed Jak the shiny pieces of paper. He glanced in the direction Cracky had fled. "Insane, yet curiously functional."

"Sounds familiar," said Daxter wryly. "Kinda like Ashelin's government."

"Thanks," said Jak. One picture was of Drusus, the other of the skinny woman. They were surprisingly clear headshots. He tucked them into a pocket.

"C'mon, Jak." Daxter hopped onto his shoulder. "This place is starting to freak me out."

"The exit's this way." Marvin turned and ran into a wall. "Owwww…"

"Marvin! You okay?"

"Yeah," he wheezed, waving one hand. "Go ahead. Straight through the main room, down the hall, and up the stairs. I'll be okay. Just gotta wait for my ears to stop bleeding."

"Are you sure-"

"Get out! While you still can!" Marvin pinched his nose with one hand and tilted his head back. "Go now, before she comes back!"

A familiar jingling sounded, followed by, "ooOOoooo! I smell blood! Let's sing the Body Fluids Song! Blood, blood, blood, so nutritious and delicious, not like mucus, which is sticky and icky-"

"Run, Jak!"

And he did.

Panting, they leaned against the walls of the stadium. "Jak," Daxter said, "I don't ever, ever wanna go down there again!"

Jak nodded, fanning his face with the pictures. They stood silently, trying not to breathe too deeply in the heat.

Holy freakin' yakkow. That girl was the most messed up thing I've ever seen. I wonder if Erol did any experimentation on her…

Anyway. He glanced at the pictures. It's a start. I could ask Keira if she has any other connections. Slummers who know other slummers. It's not like they have a directory.

"?"

Jak looked up. "Huh? What?"

"I said, 'let's get started,'" said Daxter.

"With what?"

Daxter rolled his eyes. "With the ice sculpture carving. C'mon Jak! We have pictures now. We can go around askin' people if they know anything about them."

Jak frowned. "I don't really want to do tha-"

"Baby." Daxter snatched a picture from Jak's hand and looked around. Finally, he spotted an obese man lumbering down the street. "Sir! Oh sir!" He jogged over to the man. "Excuse me, but have you seen this lady?"

The fat man looked around in all directions but down. Confused, he walked on.

"Hey! Down here, lardo!"

The man pushed his belly in with both hands. "Aahh! Demon street rat!" He turned and ran.

"He forgot to the protective signing," snickered Jak, drawing a smilie face in the air with one finger.

"Shuddup." Daxter tapped his chin. "What we have here is a failure to communicate. Due to gross height differences." He jumped onto Jak's shoulder. "GO!" He pointed valiantly down the empty road.

Jak just stood there.

"C'mon," said Daxter. "It's your family we're doing research on."

Jak sighed. He wiped his forehead. "Let's go to the market. There's probably slummers there." He set off, walking under the overhangs as much as possible.

A few minutes later he stood at the entrance of the bazaar. "There aren't many people here," he said. The place was almost bare; one fruit vendor and a few slummers milled around. Their complaints faded to whispers as Jak approached them.

The fruit vendor looked them up and down. "What you want, Darko?"

"Darko, eh?" said Daxter. "Ooh, they're getting creative now. Ahem." He jumped onto the man's wooden cart. "Listen up, uh, Fruito." The man folded his arms. "We're not looking for any trouble or any stupid superstitious crap nonsense. We just want to know if you know who this is." He held up the picture of the woman.

The man leaned down, squinted at the picture, and shoved Daxter off the cart. "Get away from my produce, rodent."

"Hey!" Daxter shot up, brushing dust off his fur. "What was that for?!" He waved one fist at the man.

"I don't like little orange weasels on my cart," said the man. He separated the fruits that had been closest to Daxter away from the others.

"He's not a weasel," said Jak. He tapped one hand on the counter. "He's my friend, and he asked you a simple question. In a mostly polite manner." Daxter nodded curtly.

The fruit vendor narrowed his eyes. "Listen, Darko," he said softly. "I don't want anything to do with you or your pet. I don't care what the governess sees in you. You're the one who let the Metal Heads in."

"What?!" Daxter jumped onto Jak's shoulder. "Are you kidding me?! We're the ones that killed the Metal Head leader and saved your sorry asses!"

"Get out of here," said the man. "Nobody wants you!" He slammed the wooden shutters closed.

"I hope you suffocate in there!" spat Daxter. "Can you believe it, Jak? Why do they think we were helping the Metal Heads? Did they all miss the announcement Ashelin made where she said, and I quote, 'the lady-master and protector of Haven city, Daxter, and his trusty sidekick Jak-boy have slain Kor'?"

Jak wiped his forehead. "I dunno, Dax." This is getting a little more than annoying. That's not the first time a slummer has accused me of helping the Metal Heads. Rumors spread like fire. What the hell happened that made all these people think I was a traitor to the city?

"I bet they won't talk to us." Daxter pointed to the rest of the slummers in the bazaar, who were huddled in a corner waving their hands and chanting.

Jak shook his head. I know if I scream, "you're all morons!" that won't make it any easier, but I'll feel better. He stood still, sweating in the sun and trying hard not to think about how much he hated slummers.

"I have another idea," said Daxter. "Lets go back to the Ottsel. There's a bucket of ice there with my name on it."