Perhaps the worst problem with being constantly on the run was the addiction to paranoia. You started out with just a tiny whiff, and before you knew it you were stopping for a quick puff at every corner. You ended up living off it, trying to survive, living on your nerves. It was a way of life, one you didn't bother to change because it helped you survive. Eight hours of sleep, although pleasant, was highly over-rated to the paranoid mind. Staying still for any length of time was a sacrilege. The simplicities of the life you held before were now rare gold. To go out in public, to shop in large stores, to just hang out, they were all but forgotten memories and longings now.

Of course, paranoia wasn't a twenty-four-hour craving for Ro, who tried not to dwell in such depressing areas for longer than a few hours and the thirty minutes before she fell asleep. Zee, on the other hand, had been programmed paranoid. Of course he didn't see it that way; he was just openly cautious and did complete area scans because it was practical and necessary. If Zee had been human, he wouldn't have been one of those worried about government conspiracies and aliens. No, he'd be worse. By walking outside, he was just daring a car to hit him, stepping into an alley just begging to get mugged. It was practical paranoia, but it covered all areas.

Unfortunately for the both of them, they were both high on the paranoid scale this morning. Police were rushing past them on the mag-ways, sirens and lights whirling, eyeing as they went by, sometimes stopping to ask questions. They weren't looking for NSA's most wanted, thankfully, but a truckload of Jokerz that had managed to escape due to the officials' own incompetence. And the price to pay was to now scour the countryside trying to find the outlaws, or, for some officers, to not find the convicts.

So on the motorcycle it was tense and quiet affair. Normally Zee would have been trying (and failing miserably) to make small talk, following his programmed belief of ideal chitchat and conversation starters ever-so faithfully. Whatever came out of Zee's mouth was usually unnerving, but his silence was nerve-wracking, as currently all of his processes were going towards spying for the police, the Jokerz, and the NSA. Ro could feel that he was tense, well, tenser than usually, being as he was made out of titanium. The Jokerz were most likely armed by now, and Zee was no doubt preparing for when they sprung from the trees, shot them, and stole their bike, and of course the police would finally recognize them from their wanted bulletins, and NSA would suddenly, for no inexplicit reason, discover their current location. Such was the way Zee's mind worked: the ever-optimistic pessimist, a cynic in optimist's clothing, or, as the case may be, hologram.

Ro only hoped he wasn't speeding, so they won't get pulled over. She doubted if Zee even had an operator's permit.

Of course, she was not immune to the atmosphere's charms. The air was dark and heavy, threatening rain in the near future. Oh, how cliché. She could feel the electrical charges adding to her antsiness, dry mouth and wary.

"Zee, perhaps we should call it a night and stop."

"It is merely 16.38 hours, Ro, early afternoon," he said stoically, glancing over his shoulder briefly. "But I agree. We should stop and call it an afternoon."

"It's an expression, Zee."

"Of course it is. That is why it is illogical."

Ro ignored the note. "How far long until the next hotel?"

The synthoid stared straight ahead for a long while, trying to see past the earth's curve. "We shall arrive at suitable lodgings within the hour," he pronounced finally, giving the closest thing he would ever give to an estimate.

"Will that be before the rain?"

"That is uncertain, Ro."

"Zee,will be get there before it starts raining?" she demanded a bit more forcefully. There were quite a few things worse than being on a motorcycle when it was raining, but currently Ro couldn't think of any.

Zee's mouth opened, then snapped shut with a metallic clang. He knew Ro wanted a definite answer. More correctly, she wanted one definite answer. "I shall speed up," he said carefully, evasively. Even Infiltration Units knew better than to confront some situations.

"You do that, Zee."

Despite Zee being a synthoid and hence would be happy in a cardboard box, he was exceedingly picky when it came to choosing rest stops and motels. When he said "suitable", he meant it. It had to be suitable to fit his ideas of what humans, namely Ro, needed. And they were usually very precise in certain areas. More than once it had happened that he would drive past several perfectly fine stops, as far as Ro could tell, and finally stop at the most up-to-code building he could find. And sometimes this wasn't the most technologically advanced or state-of-the-art, but there was no budging him in some areas, and usually Ro was too tried to put up much of a fight anyway. Perhaps he had it planned that way. Of course, Zee wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and would settle for less than his expectations, but it was with extreme reluctance. He was probably the only synthoid who would demand mints or candies on the pillows because a) it was mentioned as such in his program, and b) because he knew Ro would enjoy them.

At the sight of the building, Ro knew this did not meet Zee's code, but counted her lucky stars and was not going to argue. He would rather have her in said cardboard box than out in the rain. She jumped off the bike and hopped from foot to foot trying to work off the nerves the trip had brought on, wringing her hands. It felt weird, now that they were stopped, to be stopping so early. Zee pressed for as much travel-time as he deemed Ro suitable for, sometimes even going as far to purchase a new vehicle, and it was only now that she was able to see the front of him that she could tell that he wanted to get off the road for awhile, away from the police. Even now he watched as a car went by, the occupants giving them long glances, slowing down almost imperceptibly except to the extreme paranoids.

"You go inside, Ro. It will be raining soon. I will tend to the bike and meet you at the front counter," he said lowly, still eyeing the landscape and retreating car.

"No problem, Zee," Ro answered, crossing her arms across her chest as if chilled. She gave a forced smile. "Wouldn't it be funny if Agent Bennett was in there?"

"No. And I do not see why he would be in this city. We are not following our usual modus operandi."

"Which is?"

"We are attending theological speeches. They won't not expect it."

"Tsk, tsk. Expect the unexpected. They should know that."

Zee raised his head. "Isn't it impossible to expect the unexpected, as it is unexpected?"

"Umm . . . I guess so."

"So then how could they expect us doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"The unexpected."

Ro grinned, enjoying spinning out the verbal circle. Zee supposedly had the patience of a rock, but she liked to see if the rock was sandstone or quartz. "Which is?"

"Going to theological speeches."

"And why are we doing that?"

"To broaden your basis of cultural and theological nature of the minds of the brilliant yet possibly flawed thinking of the way the world works."

"Broaden my world?" she questioned, looking at him skeptically.

"Yes."

"So we're going to all of this for my benefit?"

"No."

"So we're going to them for yours."

"No."

Ro blinked, setting her arms akimbo. "So then why are we going? Cuz I really would like to know."

Zee looked at her innocently. "We are going for the both of us. I have read that it is important for humans to be involved in many activities and recreations, to be exposed to different ways of thinking and/or living. It keeps them happy and healthy."

"And your part in all this?"

He looked taken-back, or at least silent for a long pause. "I go for the same reasons."

Ro's eyes widened and she winced, wishing she could take back the last statement. "Zee, you're naturally healthy and . . . happy." She hoped that covered her mistake adequately, and by Zee's soft smile, it had. Sweet, trusting, innocent Zee. The poor synthoid.

"Happiness and health are, I've read, a frame of mind."

"And you're making sure your mind is on the right frame?" she asked sarcastically.

"In essence."

"Ahh." Ro waited for the day when Zee wouldn't look at everything so literally. "Okay."

"Ro, you had best get inside before it starts raining."

"All right, Zee. Don't take too long."

As she spoke, Ro could tell by the way Zee's eyes trailed behind her another vehicle passed. "I shall not be long, Ro. Don't worry."

She grinned and called over her shoulder. "Excuse me, traveling with you I can't help but worry."

"I experience the same situation constantly as well."

Ro glared at him for a moment, then sped up her walk when the thunder rolled. Perhaps it was her haste to get inside that was why when she burst into the hotel doors, the situation came as a complete shock to both parties. Sitting stock-still and wide-eyed at her arrival, visitors stared at her with shock mixed with disappointment, and the five misfit Jokerz holding them at uniquely shaped laser-point with astonishment from her explosive entrance. Ro froze, a deer in headlights, and smiled weakly.

Oh, god, she's rather have Agent Bennett in here instead of this mob. Agent Bennett liked them, in an I'm-shooting-at-you-because-it's-my-job-nothing-personal way, and had Agent West to mess up everything. "This isn't a Groundwire! Sorry, my mistake."

"Don't move!" A laser was suddenly pointed at her, and Ro raised her hands instinctively. "Come inside, now, girlie."

"Zee!" Ro hissed weakly under her breath, looking over her shoulder briefly and sidling over to stand next to a booth. Part of her wished he'd hurry up and rescue her, but the other part bitterly hoped he didn't come inside. Zee as the hostage portion of any hostage-situation never lasted long with conventional, if strangely shaped, weapons. He'd do more damage than any Jokerz, all unintentionally, which made it all the worse when his guilt-trips set in. He was only doing what he was originally designed to, and Zee knew he could never truly leave that fact. Only for moments in a planned attack could he ever oppose the programming, but almost never during the spur-of-the-moment. It was like not blinking when you sneeze.

"Keep a mark on the door! She probably has a friend," one yelled, tall and green-haired Joker to another. Stupid Gothem and its nutcases! At least Batman could come and get them!

Despite Zee's claim that his hearing was better than humans, he was just as surprised at the hold-up when he entered, slightly damp. Of course the lasers probably wouldn't hurt him, but it didn't make Ro any less nervous when one was pointed at him.

"Oh, you must be the criminals that escaped," he said conversationally, looking around and determining the weak points that he could exploit almost unconsciously, as well as checking the conditions of the hostages.

"Give us all your creds and sit down."

He tilted his head slightly. "You are aware your chance of escaping are very slim. Just this past five minutes, 23 seconds, three police vehicles drove by, and I believe at least one will stop here to make sure Ro and I are not aiding and abetting you."

"Shut up and give us your creds!"

Zee stared blankly. "That could be a problem."

"Zee!" Ro hissed, not wishing to see him anger their capturers any more than he already did with his assessment of the police situation. "Give them some creds."

"How much?"

"How much have you got?" a short, badly dressed one demanded, stalking over to wave the laser in Zee's face. The wardrobe put Ro in the mind that no sane clown would ever wear them, so of course Jokerz had to. Everyone except Ro was surprised at his lack of worry. The synthoid had apparently scanned the weapons and found that the weapons were going to cause little harm on his frame.

"I have an . . . I have only five hundred creds with me at the moment," he said, retracting his first truthful statement when Ro started to shake her head. He never understood telling people that he had an unlimited cred card was a bad idea. It had not gone so terribly when he told Ro, after all. "Is that satisfactory?"

Zee was not acting like the usual person being mugged, and Ro could tell it upset the Jokerz. They missed the fear, the power trip. "Hand it over . . . slowly." Ro almost had to laugh that their pathetic ability at trying to seem like the ones still in control, when it was obvious to her that Zee was the one holding the proverbial cards. Of course, she had the advantage of knowing the synthoid personally, but that no excuse for thinking Zee was helpless.

Almost with exaggerated slowness, as if to annoy them even more, (but of course he didn't work like that,) Zee pretended to duck his hand into his jacket, eyeing Ro briefly and then looking sideways to his first opponent. The thing about fighting Jokerz was that they worked by numbers and by surprise. If someone could upset them in either area, there was always a fighting chance. They didn't work as a team, but as individuals who only wanted a good time and some cheap laughs, but rarely were any of them willing to really fight to the last man, if by the last man it meant one Jokerz singular. Zee knew this and took advantage of the knowledge. Faster than any eye could follow, Zee whipped his arm in a full circle and knocked the laser out of the crook's hands, almost as quickly tossing it to another Joker to distract his fire. His arm extended to disarm another surprised escapee, and kicked a chair to trip up two upcoming Jokerz.

By now, several hostages had noticed their chance at escape and were quickly trying to rush out. Ro tried to stay back, hidden, worried about Zee and not in any frame of mind to leave him out of her supervision, as Zee continued to toy with the outlaws, like a cat with a mouse. He could have easily incapacitated them, but that would mean losing his hologram, and that would panic more of the people, so he settled for merely being where the Jokerz weren't throwing their punches.

Of course, Murphy had to go and muck up a fine system. One of the Jokerz had managed to get a fallen laser and raise it just as another came barreling into him from one of Zee's lighter punches, sending the weapon into the ultimate movie spiral, an uber-cliché if ever there was one. Zee actually paused when he calculated exactly where it was going to land, eyes growing wide and starting to rush over with cry of, "Ro! Watch out!" But Ro didn't have his speed or ability to remain calm and clear thinking in extreme situations, and could only stand dumbfounded as it twirled in slow motion, landing in front of her, the poor trigger sliding to fire a single burst. She barely had time to scream, to yell, "Zee!" before the ball of energy slammed into her body, sending her back with its force, knocking her head and elbow, and as her world enveloped into the brilliant golden-rose black.

Her vision darkened and Ro could feel herself falling gracefully and in slow motion. It wasn't apparently slow enough to have her life flash before her blind eyes a second time, reminding her of everything she had lived through. It was a disappointment, for in the back of her hazy mind Ro knew she wanted to remember some things. Dimly Ro wondered if this was how it felt to die, slowly, not all quick like she had always imaged. Slowly, falling backwards . . . falling with no one to catch her, not even her self-appointment protector, down into a swirling spiral of colors in sickening massacres of each other, with swiggles and spirals and again the disappointing total lack of life passing before her eyes -- a wrong cliché if ever there was one, apparently -- just falling and falling back and back, the Alice down the ever-slow rabbit hole of certain death . . . falling and falling . . . blackness . . . falling and spiraling . . .

. . . falling . . .

. . . deeper and deeper . . . dark . . . glowing warmth of pastels . . . darkness . . . deeper and deeper . . . deeper . . . on the count of three . . . falling . . . deeper . . . one . . . two . . . thr—