"Is it dead?" A quiet voice asked, the owner standing on his tiptoes to try and see what was going on. A redheaded man took a step away from the humanoid, passing a gloved hand through the brightly colored hair. He gnawed on his lip absently, scratching his head while trying to figure out what had happened.
"I don't know," he admitted, raising the goggles from around his eyes and letting them rest on his forehead. It was a girl, small in stature with a pixie hair cut. She was wearing a black jumpsuit that hugged closely to her features, elastic on her back keeping the fabric in place. She'd given no fight against the man as he'd taken his time trying to shut it down.

"Are you sure it was a robot?" This first man asked, a discarded stick in his hand. He prodded it carefully, as if the slightest touch would bring it back to life.

"It wasn't wired like one," the second responded. "Though I'm pretty sure there was something going on behind those eyes."

"No kidding, huh?"

"Nope."

The two stood for a moment, the chilled air from the desert night whizzing by them. In the distance, over the hill where they were standing, the lights of an abandoned diner cast shadows across their faces, the bandanas tied around their necks hiding their faces. The redhead knelt and held his hand out for the stick the shorter was holding. A moment passed before the dead wood was placed in his palm, the half-covered fingers curling around it. He reached out to the humanoid and gently touched its cheek, breaking apart the curtain of jet black hair and pulling it away. It was a young face that he looked upon, its eyes closed and face absolutely pale. Raising a curious eyebrow, he prodded the cheek. Nothing moved except a stray snake, slithering its way around the first man's foot. He looked down and stomped on its head before returning to watching the red haired man.

"Should we take it back?" He asked. "The snakes are coming out."

"Right," the red one nodded. "Let's go." Grabbing it by an arm, he waited until his partner had the other in his grasp before dragging it through the coarse sand.

"What do you think it is?" The shorter asked as they hobbled along, taking one long stride and another short one while they dragged the limp body.

"Some sort of human-robot crossover, I'm guessing."

"Like the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W?" He asked, flipping his long black hair out of his eyes.

"I guess," he shrugged. "It seems more human though. Like something's been changed."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Who knows," he sighed, looking down at her again. The sound of feet falling in sand soon changed to concrete as they neared the back door of the diner, light becoming brighter. The redhead pulled his bandana away from his face and let it lay slack around his neck before pulling the reinforced door open, letting the shorter lead the way in. The sound of a fuzzy radio could be heard from the kitchen, along with a few muttered words, followed by cards being shuffled.

"Maybe Ray will know," the shorter shrugged, starting farther inside only to be caught by the other.

"Hey. We don't know whether this is BL or not. Until we know if it's still sending out transmissions, let's not use our names, all right?" Nodding, the black haired man kicked open the swinging door to the eating area of the diner.

"What about me?" A new voice asked, its owner's back turned to the two.

"We found something."

"And you brought it back?"

"We didn't know what it was," the short man defended himself as a taller man stood from a booth, turning around to face the returned. He raised an eyebrow as the men tossed the girl forward. She landed face up, one arm slung over her thin stomach and the other sprawled out to the side. Pursing his lips, he knelt next to it and pushed the hair out of its face.

"If it's machine, it's disturbingly accurate," he muttered. The poofy hair around his head fell into his face and he pushed it back, the loose curls only bouncing back from the attempt to calm it. "But if it's human, something's been changed about it."

"Something like what?" the redhead pressed, crouching next to the curly haired man.

"Something mechanical? I don't know. Definitely made by Better Living, though."

"Great," the standing man groaned, pushing his own hair behind his ear. Shooting him a dirty look, the redhead pulled off his goggles and tossed them away, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

"Can you tell if it's still sending out transmissions, then?"

"Give me a minute. Why don't you two go check on Mike –" the curled man was stopped by a firm grasp on his forearm by the redhead. "Kobra Kid. He's been in the can for a while." The redhead looked up at the standing one, whose arms immediately rose up in surrender.

"That's a brotherly thing. I think it's your duty, Party Poison." Sighing, the redhead stood and left the room, pulling off his faded racing gloves and tossing them next to his goggles. Once he was certain he was out of earshot of whatever was being examined, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. Tapping it quickly on his unoccupied hand, a small white cylinder popped out the end and he grabbed it, sticking it in his mouth. Patting around his many pockets for a lighter, he found only a transmitter and hacker. He sighed and looked up. The bathroom door had met him faster than he had hoped, greeting him with a loud bump. Stumbling back, he rubbed his forehead.

"Occupied," came a voice from inside, sounding miserable.

"You have my lighter, you jerk," the redhead barked. The voice coughed inside.

"Sorry, but I'm not coming out for a while."

"Did Ray beat you in poker again?"

"No."

"Then why are you being such a child?"

"I ate something rotten," the voice cut off before it could explain and was replaced by violent retching. The man outside grimaced, rubbing his eyes again. "Don't eat out of that can on the counter."

"Wasn't planning on it," he retorted. "Mikey, please. My lighter? You can just slide it under the door."

"Give me a second," Mike sighed from on the opposite side of the door. The sound of a stall door opening came from inside, followed by a few muffled movements. A second later, a small silver rectangle slid out from under the crack.

"Thank you, slow poke," he muttered, bending over to pick it up. Flicking it open and starting a flame, the redhead inhaled the smoke quickly, the relaxing feeling it gave off stretching to his extremities. As he turned to leave, a coughing stopped him.

"Gerard?" Mike called from inside and the redhead stopped, letting the excess smoke escape from his mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Ray cheats at poker." Laughing, Gerard stepped away from the door and started down the hallway, stopping only a few times to take in another huff of smoke. Back in the seating area, the two others were still crouched over the newfound girl, whose face was still as pale as the direct sunlight.

"Anything, Jet Star?" Gerard asked. The curly haired man raised his head and sighed, shaking.

"It's definitely BL," he sighed, tossing a small white rectangle at the inquirer. Catching it with both hands, Gerard looked down, leaving it in one hand using the other to take the cigarette out. He turned it over in his fingers, finding a small black smiley face near the bottom. Glaring at it, he set it on the floor and stomped on it, the cracking sound of plastic followed by electric sparks jumping out from under his boot. He looked back up, his arms crossed over his chest. "Besides that?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing as in it isn't sending out anything or nothing as in you can't find anything?"

"Nothing as in it wasn't sending out transmissions even before you crushed that."

"Better safe than sorry," Gerard shrugged.

"You probably knocked out her connection when you unwired her," the second man piped up, standing and turning to Gerard.

"You unwired her?" Jet Star asked, also standing. Sighing, Gerard removed the cigarette from his mouth and crushed out its spark in the nearest ash tray.

"She was watching the diner, what else was I supposed to do?" Jet Star's eyes only grew wider, the disbelief plain on his face.

"She was watching us? Why didn't you blast her?" Turning back to the questioning man, Gerard held out his arms in an exaggerated shrug.

"It's a girl, Ray!" He snapped. "Only a few years younger than us, most likely. I didn't think it would be ethical, I mean she looks like she's been though about as much as we have." Ray sighed, looking at her once again.

"Fine," he muttered. "What do we do with her until then?"

"We could leave her in the girl's bathroom," the short man suggested, more than a joke than actual sincerity. Gerard shot him an exasperated glance.

"Very funny, Frank," he shook his head and bent his knees slightly, sitting down on one of the bar stools.

"It was just a suggestion," Frank shrugged, unzipping his dark green vest and tossing it onto the nearest booth, a bright yellow and black shirt left over his torso.

"Right," he sighed. He'd been awake too many hours to try and come up with a clever way to keep her detained. In the moment of silence, Mike's retching continued again from the bathroom. Ray grimaced, looking away.

"Maybe we could do that, just for a night," he shrugged, "I mean, it's not that bad of an idea. We could leave it some water and food, just in case it's human."

"Who's gonna check on it, then?" Frank asked, looking at the man.

"I will," Gerard raised his hand, the fingers blackened where his glove hadn't been covering. Both of the men turned to him and he shrugged, once again crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not like none of us have ever been in a girl's bathroom."

"All right then, that's one problem solved," Frank nodded, "But what about the food we're going to give her? It's not like we have it just sitting around." The other men were quiet for a moment, puzzled by the question. The retching from the bathroom continued, striking an idea in the redhead's mind. He jumped slightly and turned to see the can his brother had been talking about, the lid opened enough to stick straight up. Smiling, he grabbed it and held it up.

"What about this?" He asked. Ray and Frank turned, each raising an eyebrow at the suggestion. "It made Mikey sick."

"Is that what he's been throwing up for the past half hour?" Ray asked. Gerard simply nodded and he scoffed, wrinkling his nose. "It' been nasty."

"If it made Mikey sick, then why would we give it to her?" Frank asked, leaning against the booth he'd draped his vest over.

"If she throws it up, she must be human," Gerard reasoned. The puzzled looks of the two posed the question neither had to ask. "It doesn't take much for BL to make a robot that can eat and drink like us, I mean I think they already have it." They nodded slowly. "But if she's human, then her stomach will reject it, while if she's robot, then it'll just digest as if it was brand new." Each mouth opened in a silent 'ah' and Gerard smiled, nodding to himself.

"Good thinking," Frank smiled.

"Thanks."

"You two move her, then," Ray strode behind the counter and pushed the door to the kitchen open, letting it swing shut behind him. Gerard and Frank exchanged a quick look before the former stood, the latter already grabbing an arm. Taking the other, Gerard started moving forward, the man to his left staying at an equal pace. Mike's retching had come to a stop only seconds before they passed the men's room to the women's. The yellowed paint was chipping around the identifying sign, peeling away from the cheap wood underneath. Once the door was open, the two continued inside, the smell of mold and mildew wrinkling both noses. Dropping the girl's arms when she was far enough into the bathroom that no one would step on her, they each turned to the other, nodding in unison.

"It smells in here," Frank muttered as they left, Ray passing in between them with a half-filled bottle of water and the spoiled food. "Maybe we should clean it one of these days."

"You go ahead," Gerard waved, grinning. "I'm not scrubbing anything like that as long as I have free will." Shrugging and nodding, Frank stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"I'm just saying. I don't think it would hurt."

"As I said, go ahead."

Frank sighed and strode over to the booth he'd set his vest over, folding it over his arm and turning back to the redhead.

"I'm going to bed," he announced. "Just so you know."

"Have fun," Gerard waved again, unzipping his own leather jacket. The faded blue leather split away to reveal a red and black shirt underneath, the red was slowly giving way to the black, the parts that hadn't been stained fading to pink. Frank nodded and turned, disappearing into what they'd deemed as their 'sleeping area.' Rubbing his eyes, Gerard looked up as Ray reappeared, looking just as tired as he felt.

"So Mikey tells me you cheat at poker," he grinned. Ray paused a moment before also laughing, taking a seat on the stool next to the man.

"Also, according to Mikey, anything anyone can do besides him is cheating," he pointed out. "He doesn't sound too good."

"Then we're leaving him in that bathroom overnight," Gerard smiled. "I don't think I could sleep through his getting up every five minutes."

"Sounds like a plan," Ray nodded. The sound of the fuzzing radio behind the counter was the only sound for a moment, neither of the two not sure what to say. Gerard fidgeted, the forefinger on his right hand tapping his knee rapidly. "What are we going to do about it?"

"About what?" Gerard asked, leaning back against the bar.

"Whatever it is that's in our bathroom."

"Mikey? I thought we agreed a long time ago to keep him…" Ray laughed and shook his head, tiredly rubbing his forehead.

"The girl." Gerard nodded, biting the inside of his cheek absently.

"I know," he muttered. "The only logical thing to do is to wait until we know if it's human or not."

"If it is?" Ray asked. The fuzz on the radio died, leaving the interior silent.

"Maybe Dr. D knows what to do with it then," Gerard shrugged. "If he doesn't, then we'll probably try and figure out where she's from."
"What if we can't find it? We're not seriously going to keep her, are we?"

"I don't know," Gerard sighed, running both hands through his hair. He pulled it taut against his scalp before letting it relax into its normal position. "I'm making it up as I go along."
"I figured," Ray nodded. "What if it's actually a robot?"

"Then we do what we do with every robot," Gerard turned to him, standing and clapping the man on the back. "We shoot it."