The trio arrived at the System Maintenance Building late into the evening. They had decided to make their entrance while the guards were changing shifts. Security around the SMB was lax, but especially during that time. It was assumed that nobody in their right mind would attempt to challenge the System, not under the surveillance of the AI attached to every citizen's wrist.

It had simply never been done. The strongest point of rebellion had come in the form of the forest-dwelling gypsies, or Jazzy Hipsters as they were sometimes called. But with no real proof of guilt aside from the negative reading on their Devices, the government had been fine with letting them live their own transient lives. Better to have them living on the outskirts, was the subliminal verdict, and if any of them got any funny notions in their head about rights and freedom, well, the government had its own form of magic. It could make things disappear.

Angela walked up to the large metal door and typed a code into the reader. Spike and Patty craned their heads, attempting to catch a glimpse of the top of the towering building. Patty whistled and shook her head beneath her cloak.

"All that for one stupid System," she said. The door slid open and the three of them stepped into a long, undecorated hallway. They followed it in silence until they came upon a second hall branching from the first. Angela pressed herself against the wall and gestured for the others to do the same. Slowly, she peeked her head around the corner and then ducked back. The sound of two men laughing reached them abruptly. Though his shift had long ago ended, it appeared as if the guard had stuck around to chat with the man who had come to relieve him.

"And then I said, 'ma'am, if you're an American in the bedroom, then what are you in the bathroom? European!' get it? Get it? It's funny because European sounds like you're-a-peein'! Hahaha!"

"This is why I didn't invite you to my wedding, Frank."

"But...you're-a-peein'! Come on, it's funny!"

Angela stood up and slipped around the corner before either Patty or Spike could stop her. A large window took up the entirety of the wall across from them, affording them a view of the guard's little office and the hallway beyond. A lush scenery bloomed beyond the window, causing their reflections to blend in perfectly with the green silhouettes beyond the glass. Any movement, however, and the guards were bound to spot their crouching figures.

"Oh, hi-ya Mrs. Williams."

"Hi, Frank. Hi, Eddie," came Angela's soft voice.

"What're you doing here so late? I thought you finished your shift an hour ago!"

'I...came to get my purse...which I left behind in my office."

"Huh?" The man named Frank scratched his beard uncertainly. "But I remember when you left. I saw you with it. Yeah, that's right! 'Member I asked you for a stick of gum and you got it from that little pocket on the side?"

"That was my other purse," Angela's words came a bit too quickly and the guard stopped scratching his beard. Patty suddenly felt the urge to sneeze and lifted her head. Spike quickly jammed his finger under her nose. Having noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, the guard named Eddie turned in the direction of the window. Seeing this, Angela snapped her fingers and laughed loudly.

"Ah! I'm just such a klutz, y'know?" she said, quickly walking around towards the other side of the desk. They turned to watch her, effectively turning their back towards Patty and Spike. "Hahaha! Hey, Frank, that joke about the European was really funny. I heard it all the way down the hall! Haha-haha!"

"Since when did you find his humor funny?" Eddie said. "You always told me that his jokes could dry up a sun-scorched desert." Frank began to twirl his mustache indecisively.

"Well, I-"

"Wait a minute, I remember now, I didn't see you come in with two purses. Not at all. Are you trying to play at something funny?"

"I-"

"Why are you dressed like that anyway? You look like you're up to no good." Both guards reached for their belts. Angela threw her hands up in alarm.

"Wait, boys, you have to listen to me, I-"

"Oh, for Pete's sake." Spike jumped from his hiding place and slammed the edge of his hand against the back of Eddie's neck. The man gave a surprised snarl and crumpled onto the ground. Frank tried to turn to face the assailant but Spike caught him from behind. In one swift move, he had the guard's neck pinned in the crook of his elbow. He clasped his hands together and gave an upwards yank. Spidery veins spread along the back of his hand as he applied pressure to the gargling guard. Finally, with one desperate gasp, Frank went slack as a doll and Spike let him fall to the floor. Patty crawled from around the corner and stood up beside Spike.

"D-did you…?"

He shook his head and smiled. "They just needed a little nap, that's all."

She cast an uncertain glance at the crumpled bodies and realized, much to her relief, that they were indeed breathing. Angela gave a short, derisive laugh and licked her teeth when Patty turned to look at her.

"Looks like you got yourself another bad boy, Patricia."

"Wha-?" Patricia jumped. "He's not-"

"-bad?" Angela cooed at her. "That's what you say about all of them. And then they run all over your poor, stupid heart." She turned on her heel and strutted down the hall, her hands folded neatly in her coat pockets. Patty glanced over at Spike in defeat and saw that the side of his lips was upturned ever so slightly.

" 'All of them?' " He asked mockingly. She shifted her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek in embarrassment. She pulled her hand from her hip and began to count on her fingers.

"Well, the real estate agent from Mars doesn't count. And the guy with the funny hat from Jupiter was a once-in-a-lifetime sorta thing." She could see that Spike wasn't buying it. She stuffed her hands back in her pockets and sucked her teeth. "As if you're such a saint. Besides, I tried to tell her that you weren't my man."

"Try not to sound so offended by the thought."

Patty was glad that Angela chose that exact moment to tell them to get a move on, for she was on the verge of saying something that she knew she would regret. She rushed ahead of Spike and began to trail Angela, her lips pressed tightly together as they slunk along the dimly lit concrete halls. As the minutes passed, she began to imagine all of the things that they might find in the Maintenance Room. There was the matter of the Records, which was their priority. She was immediately sobered by the thought that the Records could potentially incriminate her for a crime that she could not remember. Her mind flashed back to the face of Jarred Penniman, the man who the System claimed that she killed, who in all actuality had been the victim of Donald Lee. It was here that she began to doubt herself. The three stopped before the elevator doors and Angela pressed the triangular button.

"How many floors do we have to go up?" Came Spike's voice, as if from a distance.

"One hundred and two."

"Great."

Patty blinked quickly and tried to focus her vision on the floor. Had she killed Jarred Penniman and simply forgot about it? It occurred to her that her faulty memory of the mysterious gas station event could imply that she suffered from some sort of memory loss. And yet she was sure that she would remember something as monumental as killing a man. The elevator doors swung open and they stepped inside.

Patty watched Angela press the 102 button as if in a dream. She could feel the weight of the gun clutched securely beneath her cloak. The thought of its deadly potential made her feel quite sick. She braced herself against the railing and let her cheek come to rest on the cold surface of the elevator mirror. So many questions! The most important being: was she naive to think that all of her problems - her year on the run, being hunted down by society, risking the livelihood of the Bebop crew - could be solved by a damn book? I don't even know if it really exists, came the startled voice in her head, the officer could have been lying just to bide time!

And if that was the case, what then were her options: going back into hiding, living as a wanted criminal forever, never knowing the truth of her existence? That then begged the question of her companions, and what would happen to them if all of her work had been for nothing. Her eyes traveled to Angela's face. The woman was glowering into the mirror and biting the pink paint off of her thumbnail. There were three little wrinkles between her eyebrows and this brought a funny feeling to Patty's chest. It was a little thing that Patty had noticed about her roommate throughout the years, and yet she had never spoken on it. Now, she stared at her and thought back to all of their nights spent beneath makeshift sheet tents, drinking wine, and watching movies on Angela's phone.

And Spike…

She looked at him and realized that she didn't even know his last name. And yet at some point during their journey together, she had begun to see him as a man who would just somehow be in her life forever. Not in a romantic or even friendly way. She had just assumed that he would always be there, in her peripherals, smoking his cigarettes and watching her with that infuriatingly patient look. She watched him place a cigarette between his lips and close his eyes. And she realized that she ached for - and had come to expect - a future that had him in it, whatever that future may be. The idea of losing him suddenly became as pressing and as alarming as the thought of losing her own freedom.

She turned her head and smiled, gently wishing for her tears to just fade away. But her mind was of the treacherous sort and a single teardrop rolled down her nose and melted between her lips. His reflection loomed across from her. It rippled as he lifted his hand to light his cigarette. The lighter wouldn't catch and his face was drawn into an exasperated expression. And, for some strange reason, the sight of his creased brow and stiff lips brought her an inexplicable sense of comfort.

He looked up. Two-tone brown eyes met hers in the mirror. "Something on your mind?" He asked.

The elevator dinged. Level 52. Angela tore the bit of nail away and spat it on the floor.

"It's silly," Patty said

"Hey, I like jokes. Tell me."

"I just think it's funny, the first night I saw you, sitting there in the bar. I was singing Blue Christmas. I had your jacket."

"I remember."

"And I saw you, and I had this thought. Like, what if we were partners in crime? You'd be a detective and I'd be - I don't know - a cool, elusive damsel, and we'd share this awesome fate over jazz and Whiskey Bitters. Dig it?"

"I dig it."

"And now here we are."

"Here we are. Partners in alleged crime."

Angela snorted, forcing Patty and Spike to look away from each other. She quickly slapped her hand over her mouth and threw her head back as a fit of laughter began to wrack her small body. Her blue eyes were alight with madness as she cackled on the elevator floor. Patty glanced at Spike before kneeling before the woman. For a moment, she forgot that Angela was supposed to be her hostage and saw her as the simple friend that she used to be.

"Hey," she said, reaching her hand out to touch her, "You okay-"

A dark look passed over Angela's face. She smacked Patty's hand away and spat at her. "Don't touch me, you dumb colt!"

"I was only trying to help you, butterface!"

"Tone deaf harpy."

"Oh, that's it-"

Spike sprang between the two women, but not before Patty rocked Angela with an uppercut. They were only on Level 64. Jeez, does no one in the Merit Society know how to curse, he thought to himself, arms braced between the fuming women. "You sure changed ever since putting on that dress," Spike said with a grunt before pushing Patty back. She stumbled a bit before twisting around and facing the mirror.

"What can I say," she said in a muffled voice. "Faye's rubbing off on me."

"...are you seriously putting on silver lipstick right now?"

"Refer to my previous statement. Anyway, isn't this what the heroines did in the superhero movies back on the original Earth? Their makeup was always on point before they went into battle."

"Battle. You think this is going to be a battle?" Spike said. Angela crossed her arms and shook her head.

"You're such a whore," she said loudly to Patty, "Can't believe I let you borrow my exact replica Madonna cone bra."

"Not like you had anything to put it in, girlie"

It was the second time that Spike had to jump between the two women. After much scratching and biting, he finally separated them and pushed them towards opposite corners. They stood in awkward silence as the elevator clambered laboriously toward floor number 96.

"So," Spike said after a while, just to break the tension, "anyone know any good jokes?"

The two women said nothing. Angela pressed her palm against her blackened eye. Patty poked at her busted lip.

"Okay, I'll start," Spike said, "A bounty hunter, a Wanted Criminal, and their hostage walk into an elevator."

There was a silence and then Patty said, "what's the joke?"

"That is the joke," Spike said dryly, massaging the growing knot on his head. The elevator dinged at Level 102. And Spike had never been happier to see two metal doors slide open.