Jak flung himself onto the bed. Holy hell, what a long day. He groaned and mashed his face with his fingers, wishing a breeze would come in through the window. He was hot, thirsty, and tired.

He had forgotten to check the Sector center hologuide for the shower and water rations scheduling. The sinks poured forth a nasty mixture of mud and plant debris; Ashelin's promise of water regulations had indeed been carried through. He'd have to wait till tomorrow for fresh water.

Daxter was livid when they had returned to the Naughty Ottsel. The walk-in freezer and the refrigerated compartments had shorted out. "Of course," he'd said, shaking his fist. "Of course the eco grid we dewired leads to the bar. Didn't the mainframe box in the Contamination Vault say 'To Port/South Town' on it? Ashelin had this planned from the start! She's the one who sent us down there!"

"Um, sweety," Tess had said. "If it was the wiring you'd worked with, the fridges would've gone off last night."

Daxter was insistent in Ashelin's sabotage of his bar. "She's pissed cuz I don't pay full taxes." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I've got loop holes out the yakkow, and I deserve it! After risking my tail saving this stinkin' city."

So there had been no buckets of ice. No thirst quenching chilled drinks. Not even a room temperature glass of water with an umbrella in it. Umbrellas, ha. The irony would've been too great for me, I think. Jak sighed and swung his legs over the bed. "I miss that jet board," he muttered. He'd been forced to walk home from the Ottsel, as no zooming slummers had braved the afternoon scorch. He ignored the little voice in his head that reminded him it was his own fault the jet board was currently inoperative, and dumped the contents of his bag onto the floor.

A few orbs, the composite photos, some shriveled fruit, his ID, the old trophy, an assortment of papers and Brutter's polish fell out and rolled everywhere. Jak retrieved the polish from under the bed and hefted it in one hand. "That feels like forever ago," he said. He picked a sock off the floor and started polishing the old trophy.

The fumes soon drove him to the window. He ran the sock along the Precursor symbols, careful not to rub too hard. The sun burned off the last of the day's smog and sank, leaving a clear starry sky behind. The city lights flickered on and the usual bands of betting slummers met in the street.

Jak recognized a few of them- various members of the Underground he'd escorted on missions a few months back. Their collective stink rose up from the road. Jak grinned.

He opened the window as high as it would go and stuck his head out. "Don't you people ever bathe?"

Startled, they looked all around. Finally one of them looked up. "Blondie!"

"I can smell you from here, Jinx! Go home! It hasn't even been a whole day of water rationing and you'd make Krew proud!"

"Still so high and mighty, eh, pretty boy?" Jinx waved to him. His cigar light trailed in a half circle through the air. "Word on the street is you've got Ashelin increasin' taxes so you can import your special shampoo from beyond the wastelands!" His buddies snickered. "Gotta keep your locks'n curls perfumed'n shiny, don'tcha, Jak?"

Jak grinned. "Seems personal hygiene's relative to gun size in this city!" He stroked his chin. "If I recall, you use the 36X Shock Blaster model 2A, is that right?"

"Yeah." Jinx eyed him suspiciously.

"You're due for your annual bath, then. Go on! Get outta here! I wouldn't want Mrs. Jinx rolling in any more of your filth than absolutely necessary."

"For your information," said Jinx, "Mrs. Jinx gets paid to roll in whatever filth Mr. Jinx tells her to!"

"Touché." There's not much I can say to that, is there? Too bad Dax isn't here. He's better at this witty sorta stuff. "Take it easy, Jinx."

"Yeah yeah, don't let the bed bugs bite, sweetie. C'mon ladies! Let's go to the water slums where we're not heckled by women-folk."

Jak laughed. There's nothing quite like trading insults with Jinx. He yawned. The trophy in his hand was still streaked with tarnish. "Damn!" I should've asked him if he knows anything about the old speedracers. Ah well. Next time.

He tossed the trophy, sock, and polish onto the floor and collapsed on the bed.

TT

"Jak, damn it, get up. This is the last time I'm playing alarm clock!"

Jak cracked an eye open. "Huh?"

"We were expecting you over an hour ago!" Torn's gravely voice came from somewhere on the floor.

Jak pulled himself to the edge of the bed and squinted down. His comm flashed spasmodically. He reached for it. "What for?"

Torn scowled. "Repeat testing, you moron."

"I feel fine."

"Half the KG's out sick. Get your ass down here for testing or I'll put you and the talking rat on Clogged Sewer Pipe Maintenance for a week. And trust me, in this heat, you don't wanna be down there."

"You don't have authority over my assignments."

"I do now. Ashelin's out, too." Torn looked away for a second. "Only a handful of people who worked in DS 12B haven't been affected, and our staff needs to find out why. So get your disease-free inner elbows ready for a hell of a stabbing." He cut the transmission.

Jak rolled his eyes. "That's what I need in my life. More needles. 'Hey Jak, your body fluids seem pretty special. Mind if I take a tube or two?' 'Why no, help yourself. I don't need them. Especially in this heat, with no water to replace my fluid loss. Oh, and by the way, don't touch my blood with your bare hands. I'm the Dark Eco Freak, remember?'"

It wasn't really a great way to start the morning. Jak peeled his clothes off and scrounged around for a new set. I can't imagine my blood being of any use to anyone. Daxter didn't get sick either. I bet it has something to do with our dark eco experiences… Still, there was a point to it all. There's an upside to this heat. Even with half the KG out, it's too hot for anyone to start looting the place. I'm surprised about Ashelin, though. I mean, she was there, but… Jak shrugged. I guess I never thought she could actually get sick. But what the hell do I know.

Wait… didn't Keira go and talk to Ashelin yesterday about something?

Jak finished pulling his shirt on and punched his comm. "Keira? Keira!"

Her face was flushed. "Oh, hi Jak. What's up?" She was in the middle of making her bed. She smoothed her blue blanket straight.

"I, uh, are you okay?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Of course! Is something wrong?"

"No… I just got a call from Torn. Ashelin's sick, and I know you went to go see her yesterday so I just wanted… to make sure you were… okay." Laaaaaaaaaame.

"Oh," Keira smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine. Poor Ashelin. I don't think you can get the disease by being near people with it. Which is good. I've heard it's pretty nasty." She wiped her forehead. "It is so hot out. Make sure you go to the Sector center and get water. You look kinda… pale."

Jak had a feeling he looked more dirty, sweaty and gross than pale, but Keira was being polite. "Yeah, I'll do that." There was an awkward pause. "Um… how's the jet board?"

Keira spun the comm and Jak could tell she was walking downstairs, from her apartment to the shop. "I can't do anything with it until they get the water running again. Plus, there are some things I've been working on that I want to put in it. Have you ever heard of dynamic angle chargers?"

"Uh… I've heard those words before."

Keira laughed. "I think I've found a way for you to take corners a little faster. It'll take me a while to figure out how to apply the concept to your board. Its surface-area-to-rider-mass ratio is smaller than a zoomer's, but the chargers I thought of last night might be able to be scaled down."

"Great." Jak smiled and nodded.

"But all those plans are on hold until I can get this dry pump sorted out. The city really needs a reliable source of water until the drought is over. I showed Ashelin my idea. She wants a prototype, and then to run it through the council and all that other junk. But I can't see why they wouldn't use it, so I'm starting the initial building steps this morning." Keira shrugged. "I've got a busy day ahead of me! Anything else- oh wait. The trophy! Did you talk to Marvin?"

"Yeah, I did. Interesting guy." Jak raised an eyebrow. How the heck did you ever get to know him?

"Marvin's great." She laughed. "If you ever have a bad day, just ask him how he's doing. Was he able to help you at all?"

"Yeah, I have some pictures. I've gotta figure out how to approach the slummers about them."

"Are they doing that weird signing at you?"

"Yeah." Jak sighed. And worse, but I won't tell you that.

"They're just scared. Don't worry. I think things will work out for the best." Keira started pulling tools down from a shelf. "Give me a call later, Jak. Maybe we can meet up or something."

"Okay, yeah. That'd be great. Bye."

TT

The pretty medical technician wrinkled her nose when she saw Jak. His irritation jumped up a few notches. After enduring the trek to the Palace in the blazing sun and the infernal whispers of those slummers, he was in a foul mood. He stared back at her. What do you want from me? They turned off the water so I can't shower. As if you smell like the summer breezes. He wiped his sweaty hands on his tunic. At least the Palace had air conditioning.

"Right this way, sir," the technician said.

Jak glanced at Torn, seated at a table covered in papers. His eyes were bloodshot. Three medical people stood around him, screaming and frantically pointing at charts. He shot Jak a murderous look.

Maybe giving blood isn't that bad…

The technician led him into a cubical and put a stack of papers on the table.

"Do you exercise regularly?"

"Yep." In fact, just a few months ago, I ran a marathon around the Metal Head leader.

The technician scribbled. "Have you ever had any problems with digestion?"

Jak thought back to the first, and only, time Daxter had attempted to make dinner. Who knew you could actually burn sauce? I'm guessing that's not what she means. "No."

The questions were numerous and grew increasingly personal. Jak squirmed in his seat and tried to remember the nature and frequency of his bathroom visits.

"I don't see what this has to do with a respiratory disease," he snapped.

"We have to eliminate all the factors that would cause you to be…" She trailed off, eyes flickering over his face. "Factors that would make you resistant to the pathogen."

"I'd say that's obvious," spat Jak. He stretched his arm out. "We all know the one thing that makes me different. Hurry up and take what you want. I'm not sitting here anymore."

"Just doing my job," she said quietly. She folded the unfinished questionnaire. "I'm not authorized to take samples. Please wait." She turned to go.

"Get me some water."

She nodded and rushed out.

"Hmmph." Jak pushed his sleeve up and looked at the inside of his elbow. Scars littered the skin. He followed a few of them up his arm. They faded out near his shoulder.

"Real beauty marks." Slitter grinned and sat opposite Jak. He pulled a bottle of water from his bag and rolled it across the table.

Jak snatched it and chugged. He watched the man from the corner of his eye.

"Daresay I had a hand in a few of those," Slitter said. He pulled some glass tubes from the bag. "Honestly, we've got enough of your blood to raise a murder of metal heads. But I told Torn we needed more. I put it in my lava lamps."

Jak's stomach turned. What?

"They light up real pretty."

"Is that some sick joke?" Jak clenched a fist.

"I've got quite a collection. There's a lamp for every would-be dark warrior."

Jak shot out of his seat and snarled.

"Whoa, down boy," said Slitter. He glanced at the door. "Of course it's a joke. Sit down." He snapped some tubes together. "Yeah, a joke. Ashelin ordered the retests, don't bitch at me. Bitch at the bitch."

Jak grabbed his gun and pointed it at Slitter. "I don't like needles and I really don't like you. No more talking. Get this over with."

"I have to-"

"Shut up!"

Slitter glared at him. "Put the gun down," he said softly.

"I said shut up!"

Slitter fumed. He grabbed a pen and wrote; have to take from new spot.

As Jak pondered these words, Torn stuck his head in the door. "What the hell is going on?" His tired eyes narrowed at the gun Jak held.

"He's-"

"Slitter." Torn glared. "Should've known. Take your goddamn samples and then get your ass back in the lab. If you're still in the Palace in five minutes, your hide is mine. You remember our agreement, right? And Jak, the city doesn't have time for you to pull shit like this."

"Gun," said Slitter.

Jak lowered it. "Hurry the hell up."

"Play nicely or I swear to Mar." Torn disappeared from view. "You'll both be banished to the wastelands."

"As I was trying to say," Slitter stood, "I have to take a sample from a new place." He pushed Jak down into the chair and turned his face. "Right here."

"My neck?"

"There's an immunological organ there," said Slitter. "Big word, I know. Try not to think about it too much." He jabbed the needle in and wiggled it.

"Argh!" Jak grabbed Slitter's arm. Dark eco sparked from his fingernails.

"Heh, thought you'd like that." Slitter wrestled out of Jak's grip and shoved the needle into the bag. "That crazy bitch was right," he said, pulling at his ripped ear. "You're a super one-of-a-kind pain in the ass."

"I'm not the only one." Jak rubbed his sore neck.

Slitter glanced at the empty glass tubes. "Wouldn't it be funny if the cure to the disease was water?" He laughed.

"Yeah, real funny. And they call me the freak." Jak opened and shut his jaw.

"You heard Mr. Happy the Tattoo Man. I'm outta here." Slitter snapped his bag shut and sprinted out the door.

Jak heaved himself out of his chair. "This is the last time I'm coming here!" he shouted at the medical staff. Torn stood. Jak ignored him and stomped through the plastic lined hallways of the Palace.