A line that travels in a straightforward motion is unobstructed by the forces that meet it. Thus why the nature of life is continuous and persistent. In spite of great changes, and forces that seek to alter the flow, nature always finds a way. And in the end… succeeds.

— Master Espoir's First Law of Drive

The rocky tunnels on either side of her made Joliet feel claustrophobic. It reminded her of the tours she'd taken through the Louvre, what with the way Avdol was showing her around. Yet the difference was stark: her trips to the Louvre were always enriching and insightful. This? Well… this was just boring. The damp, musty air clung to her airways like a fly in the ointment, and every inhale was one she had to force. How could they stand to breathe down there? It was another reason for Joliet to be grateful that breathing was not a basic necessity; she could opt out of it anytime she wanted, and nothing would change – thank you, Uncle Stroheim. The smell, however, wasn't going away anytime soon.

Emerging out into a new area, Joliet clenched the knot of her makeshift dress and scanned the room. For people living in a subterranean hellscape, the sofas were in excellent condition, as if they'd just been purchased. XTC gaming consoles sat atop a coffee table, switched off as a movie involving an epic, knock-out-drag-out fight atop a skyscraper played in the background. Headsets had been carelessly abandoned on the couch cushions. Soda bottles sat open on the table next to the game consoles and TV, a negligent hazard that sent a chill through Joliet's circuitry.

Caring little for how it might be perceived, Joliet rushed over to the table and snatched the bottles, bringing them to an end table near the tunnel she'd just come from. Avdol's brow arched as he stood by and observed.

Once finished, Joliet placed a hand over her chest with fingers splayed, and released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. One little drop of moisture brushing against the wrong circuit would spell her end, or at the very least hurt a lot. It wasn't a chance she wanted to take.

Avdol's voice thankfully helped to alleviate the worry. "Would you care to have a seat?" he asks congenially, gesturing to a sofa with an upturned palm.

It seemed clean enough, much to Joliet's relief. "Thank you." she replied curtly, and accepted his offer. As she sat with impeccable posture on the cushion furthest from him, Avdol turned the arm of the sofa, taking a seat and leaning back with his knees parted. The way he draped his arm over the back, and hung the other over the armrest, stoked a small flame of ire in her chest. I thought he was well-mannered, and yet his posture looks like… that? Joliet scoffed. But of course.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Joliet slightly turned her head, nose pointed to the air, as she hardly made eye contact. "Hmm?" she hummed haughtily. "What do I think of what?"

"This place." He waved a lazy hand. "Pretty cool for a hole in the ground, huh?"

"It's…" God forbid she say what she was really thinking. "...nice, I suppose. Though I must ask: why furnish it like this? It's a little strange, don't you think? You live in a… cave, and yet you furnish it like a fancy lobby?"

"Well," he said with a shrug, "you could say the quarry is a home away from home. At least for me."

Joliet turned her head, looking in his direction but not quite looking at him. "So, you mean you don't live here?"

"Not really, no. I live with my grandfather. Tenmei does, though. Poor guy was brought in off the streets barely alive when he was just a toddler. Léon and I mostly come here for work."

Her mightier-than-thou attitude was shattered by the revelation about Tenmei, and her face soured into a frown of concern. She had to admit, she didn't care for Tenmei fixing her one bit. It was a violation, in a way. Being tinkered on, being fixed by people she knew was already bad enough. For a stranger to do it just reminded her of how apart she felt from everyone else. But he was kind, that much she realized. The mere thought of Tenmei being without parents at such a young age brewed sympathy.

"Anyways," Avdol continued, "not sure if I'd consider this place up to the royal family's standards, but feel free to make yourself at home." He smiled at Joliet, then rose up from the couch. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Yes. You can get me out of this hell, and take me home. "No." she lied, not wanting to seem too demanding. Judging by the way they ran things around there, there wasn't much Avdol could do anyway. If anything, she'd confront Angus about it once the meeting was over.

Avdol bowed respectfully and made his leave back through the tunnel. Joliet was left to sit alone in a quiet room, where she stared at the various murals decorating the rocky walls. One of them in particular caught her eye immediately, and she began to study it appreciatively.

In the center of a wreath made of thorns and roses was an angel donning the French flag as a sash from shoulder to hip. It was like Joliet was staring at an ancient Renaissance painting in person the way it was painted, each stroke masterfully made, the anatomy impeccably crafted.

With a lolled head, the angel was extending its hands altruistically to what Joliet made out to be the people of France. While these features were eye-catching, and thought evoking, it's what lurks behind the people that makes Joliet's blood go sour: the people desperately reaching in anguish for the angel were being forced into graves by none other than cybernetic monsters. Demonic grins adorned their faces as they dragged the human race to a fate worse than death.

A welling emotion seized Joliet by the throat as she gawked at the painting. This wasn't art, it was hate . Artificial tears streamed down Joliet's face as she tried not to let her aggrievement get the better of her. In the span of just a few hundred years, nothing had changed. People were still spewing vitriol about people like her. Someone who, unlike most, didn't choose to be an android in the first place.

There were other paintings there, which she averted her gaze towards in order to assuage the hurt, but it was no use. Her positronic mind wouldn't allow her to let go. All Joliet wanted to do was find a dark corner she could hide in and cry. How can a place that's been so welcoming to me display something so vile openly? I don't understand. Then again, Léon wasn't as welcoming as the others. If she could pin the blame on anyone for painting that so-called masterpiece, it would probably be him.

That just made her circuits burn with rage. Ugh! I don't want to think about him, he's nothing but a closed-minded pig anyway. She angrily rose to her feet, and stormed away to explore other areas of the room, far away from the offending painting on the wall.

There was one other wall drawing that caught her eye, which looked as if it had been drawn by a five-year-old. Kneeling down to get a better look at it, Joliet saw what she assumed to be a tall man. He had a big circle for a stomach, and he was holding hands with an amorphous blob. The blob had two legs, one longer than the other. Its hand reaching up was elongated compared to the arm dangling by its round, uneven body.

She couldn't help but giggle at it as she looked at the wide smiley face in the center. Its sprigs of hair were cherry red. Funny, Tenmei's hair is the same color. She studied the tall figure's proportions and features a little more closely, noting that it was a man with red hair just like his; and he, too, was smiling. Floating above the red-haired pair was a stick figure with a halo and wings. For some reason or another, her hair was red also.

Could this be Tenmei and his parents? Joliet wondered to herself.

From across the room, a bombastic news intro exploded from the television monitor. Joliet nearly leapt out of her skin, before turning her attention to the TV to see Iommi Legrand sitting at the panel with his cellphone to his ear.

He let out a nervous chuckle, his voice trailing from calm to annoyed instantly. "How did you get this number?" he hissed into the phone. There was a moment of pause as he listened to the caller's response. "Look, I paid you for one night. One. We are not a thing, you and me… yeah, yeah, that's great. Okay, whatever, don't call this number again. Bye."

He abruptly ended the call and sighed. Shoving the phone into his blazer pocket, he composed himself and looked directly into the camera. He stared, and stared, until a voice from off-screen jolted him from his trance and he launched into his routine. "Oh, umm, good morning, Paris. I'm Iommi Legrand, and you're watching INN. Another day, another tumultuous cry for justice in downtown Skid Row." Iommi informed. "Angry mobs were gathered just outside the Dokken University in protest this morning. A.I.s are moving up in the world today as two have earned their associate's degrees in medical science. Locals stormed the streets in an uproarious attempt to make a statement: Bo — er, well, B-words… are not the future; children are."

The footage displayed Skid Row rioters destroying public property, shouting slurs and profanity, and taking the streets by storm. Rounds fired. Violent protesters dropped dead on the asphalt. Tear gas was thrown. Armed forces pushed back the cacophonous crowds. Sitting there witnessing the death tolls climb, Joliet wanted to cry. All these deaths were seeded by hate so overgrown that the human being buried underneath was disregarded.

The footage transitioned back to Iommi, who was looking down at a text message and whispering loudly to himself. "Oh, my god! Stop fucking messaging me, you putain folle…" He glanced up, realizing he was still in the middle of a report.

"Ah, shit…!" He went to swiftly pocket the phone only to fumble and drop it with a resounding CLACK. Iommi blushed anxiously, smiling and chuckling under his breath. "Nobody saw that, right?" he whispered to the crew in the back.

Joliet grimaced. "What am I watching…?" she wondered aloud.

Relaxing his shoulders, he regained his composure and looked into the camera. "What should've been a momentous occasion has indeed ended in tragedy, leaving a mother of two teen boys heavy-hearted, and all alone. In other news," Legrand continued, "the search for the three murder suspects continues. Or so we are told." The wry smirk that crossed his face made it clear he didn't quite believe it. "INN reporter Trisha Clé spoke with Skid Row's Préfet de Police, Douglance Quaid, about his thoughts on the investigation thus far."

The screen transitioned to a middle-aged man who looked to be roughly Angus's age, and body size. He was standing in front of the Prefecture, donning a black suit and a peaked cap to match. His tie was sky-blue with geometric patterns in the shapes of rhombi and triangles. The dark, leather jacket with aviator glasses made him appear as if he was ready to hunt down Léon and the gang right then.

"Officer Quaid," came Trisha Clé's voice, "could the radiation burns on the victims possibly be an indication that the gangs have access to illegal energy weapons?" She extended the microphone forward, eagerly awaiting his response.

"I'm not exactly at liberty right now to discuss the details. Rest assured we're looking into it." Quaid answered. He gave a slight, insincere smile and nodded. "Thank you for your time." As he descended the staircase, the reporters followed and pressed him with more questions.

"People are asking if the Prefecture has any desire to take action against the crimes in this city!" Trisha says urgently. "As I'm sure you can tell, they're —"

Quaid kept his eyes focused on where he was walking. "I'm well aware of what the public thinks of me! Now get that damn thing out of my face before I shove it up your ass." He pushed past the camera crew and the reporters.

Joliet blinked. "This is what the police are like outside the capital?"

The screen returned to Iommi Legrand's face, who appeared to be a little miffed by Quaid's lack of cooperating with the press. "Once again," he said in a passive-aggressive tone, "police have no further saying on the investigation. Sad, but true. Will Skid Row Prefecture find the answers they're…" he moved two fingers on each hand up and down for emphasis, "...looking for? Will the suspects ever be brought in and questioned for these heinous crimes? Will the citizens of Skid Row finally have a good night's sleep, knowing there's three less killers off the streets? Only time will tell. Again, we at INN implore you: if you have any information regarding these three suspects — or if you spot them — report them to your local authorities immediately."

A disbelieving chuff left his nose and he mumbled under his breath, "Not that Skid Row police will do anything about it…"

Léon, Tenmei, and Avdol's faces appeared on the monitor. If Joliet had a heart, she would've felt it pang in her chest at that exact moment. And then, she'd feel it plummet into the pit of her stomach. The cheerful boy that repaired her, the guy who seemed very sincere, the loud American man, and… that thing that accosted her… they weren't nobodies hanging around in a cave, looking for work; they were malefactors hiding from the law!

"And now to Jack Poison for sports." Iommi resumed.

The screen transitioned to a relatively young, and lively sports anchor. His hair was an electric green bowl cut with matching sideburns, and a thin beard along his jaw and chin. In a busy stadium, where he stood cheerfully in a dark green suit, Jack Poison shouted enthusiastically into a microphone, "Woo! Soccer!"

The screen suddenly cut back to Iommi. "Thanks, Jack."

Joliet sprang to her feet as three pairs of shoes clomped over the dusty cavern floor. It was them. The three boys wanted for the deaths of men, women, and children. A sickening tightness lurched in her stomach. Léon's indigo eyes trailed over to her as he entered. Joliet's jaw clenched. Her fist squeezed into a ball. Every servo in her body stood tensed, ready to strike. These men were dangerous , and she knew now that she needed to be careful.

Avdol stepped forward, about to speak to her, but Joliet acted on instinct. Vines and flowers rocketed out of her arms, shoulders, and back. The four stood there, gaping at the vines and moonflowers trailing up to the ceiling and spreading out across the floor. Avdol managed to move away just far enough out of range of the sweeping vines. Seemingly nyctinastic flowers were closed overhead with a faint, turquoise glow radiating behind the petals. He retreated between Léon and Tenmei, who were clearly as stupefied as he was.

"What the fuck are all these flowers?!" Léon exclaimed as his eyes surveyed the room, before turning his eyes to Joliet, fury roiling in his gaze. "What did you do?!"

"Wait…" Avdol said, "...Joliet, are you…? But… how is that possible? You're an android!"

Léon sidled closer, alerted by the vines spreading across the floor. "Tch. The stand user I fought last night was an android, too."

Around Joliet's feet, the blossoms grew larger, before each slowly fell open. The turquoise glow inside them grew brighter and brighter as they flourished from her feet, trailing up to her shoulders.

She thought of the lives she could save by turning them in. Not to the police, who apparently didn't seem to be doing much, but to the Imperial Forces. If Skid Row's justice system was really as bad as it seemed, then this was her chance. Now or never. Do the right thing, or be reprogrammed and become a tool of injustice. And like hell she was accepting the latter.

"Joliet!" Tenmei cried, his palms face up as he beseeched her. "W-Why are you doing this?"

"Get away from me!" she barked, sending Tenmei scrambling backwards. "I knew there was something off about you three. When exactly were you planning to tell me that you're wanted men? For all I know, you've already inserted something inside that can control me, haven't you?!"

Tenmei flinched at the sound of her voice, and clasped his hands together pleadingly. "What?! No! I just fixed you, honest!"

Léon noted the anchormen chatting on the TV. He exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ces ne pas peux se passe t-il a moi…"

"Come on," Avdol said, reaching out as if to calm her down, "let's not do anything rash. We can talk about this, alright? Just you and me. I can explain everything if you j —"

"You expect me to cooperate with you?! What sort of fool do you take me for?! The only thing I'm going to be doing is turning you all in to the Imperial Legion for holding the Princess of France captive." Léon rolled his eyes at that statement. "And if I have to exercise violence to get out of here, so be it. You'll rue the day you crossed paths with Avantasia!"

Tenmei's nose wrinkled. "Avantasia?"

Seeping from the blossoming flowers was a viscous, glowing, cyan substance. Unbeknownst to them, vines managed to weave around their ankles, adhesive from the flowers secreting onto their boots. Avdol went to move, attempting to lift his leg from the cavern floor, but it was no use. He gave it a few jerks, and yet it didn't give, stuck steadfast to the ground. "What?! I…I can't move!"

Everywhere they looked, heart-shaped leaves, and fully opened moonflowers, covered the room. Globs dripped from the flowers on the ceiling, creating long, thin strands the further they descended.

"Huh?" Tenmei glanced up after noting the cyan coagulum ooze down onto his shoulder. Then another blob drizzled over his nose. He crossed his eyes, trying to see it while Léon swiped the sap off of his shoulder and studied it.

"What is this stuff?"

"Uh, guys?" Tenmei said in a drowsy voice. "I don't feel so good." A tinge of sallow green painted his face, punctuating the shadows under his suddenly sleepy eyes. "I think I'm gonna…!" He threw a hand over his mouth, letting out a muffled retch behind it.

Standing behind him, almost diagonally, Léon glanced over. "Tenmei, what's wrong?"

BLEGGGHHHH

Vomit splattered over the floor, flecking the toes of Tenmei's shoes. "My eyes hurt so much!" he squalled, nearly on the verge of tears. "Someone please turn off the lights!"

"Tenmei!" Avdol cried, reaching a hand to his shoulder. He glimpsed the green pallor of his face, and the large, dilated pupils in his eyes. "Wha…! What the hell?! What's happening to him?"

Léon growled in annoyance. "Shit! Why the fuck am I so tired?!" Another glob plopped down onto his hair, slowly dribbling down his cheek. Within mere moments, Léon was no different than Tenmei. He fought to lift his glued feet from the floor, only to find himself growing more and more fatigued by the second. Sighing, he sank down into a seated position, and succumbed to the sap dripping all around him.

Avdol caught sight of him as he watched him sit down on the floor, his butt becoming glued to the ground. "What the…?! Léon, what're you doing?!"

Léon's speech was slow, slurred, and apathetic. "Sitting…"

"Why?!"

His eyes were closed as he leaned into his knees, yawning and resting his head against his arms. "I 'unno…" he responded, his voice trailing off as if he was going to sleep. Cyan ooze poured over him like syrup over pancakes, cascading down his arms and jacket. In just a short amount of time, Léon was fast asleep with his cheek pressed against his forearm.

"Wha…?! Léon!" Avdol's attention snapped back to Tenmei, who was kneeling with his face buried in his hands. Like Léon, the sap spilled over his back and shoulders.

"Please…" he begged, "...someone turn off the light. My eyes can't take it anymore."

Vines with their curled ends continued to extend from Joliet's body, each invading the cavern as closed moonflowers gradually bloomed, one by one. "You're very lucky, you know," she boasted to Avdol, "I'd have expected you to end up just like them. Lethargic, or sickly. Maybe even both. Yet here you are, simply glued to the ground by Avantasia's sap. I suppose you're also curious as to how my stand is causing all of this to happen."

Might as well tell him. It's not like it'll matter once the fight's over anyway. Their negative impact on Paris will be gone, and I'll be returning home from this wretched place. "Have you ever heard about atropine poisoning before? If so, then you would be familiar with the effects of atropine overdose. Naturally, consuming the seeds of a moonflower plant can cause dilated pupils, ataxia, dry skin and mouth, tachycardia, etc. In large quantities, this can lead to potential death."

"Now, think of this in terms of a stand," she continued, "Avantasia has all of the capabilities of atropine poisoning, but tenfold . Once the glue makes physical contact with the skin, its properties seep into the target, rendering them incredibly ill." She gestured to the flowers around her. "All of my life, my stand has caused me to suffer. And now, you'll suffer as I have."

Avdol looked back at Tenmei and Léon. Cyan glue continuously poured over them, creating a glowing pool of resin around their bodies, and Avdol's feet. It was like he was standing in a shallow stream up to his ankles. Joliet watched him for a moment, both aggravated and curious as to why the sap dripping over his bare arms wasn't affecting him. Why wasn't he reacting fearfully? Wasn't he the least bit scared of what was happening to them? Scared that they were going to be served up to the Imperial Legion on a silver platter, no less?

"Fascinating," Avdol commented, stroking his chin with a nod, "that's something I'll admit I didn't know about moonflowers." He smiled, as though amused by his own thoughts. "But if it pleases you, I, too, have trivia I'd like to share with you."

Joliet eyed him mistrustfully, listening to whatever it was he had to say.

"Are you familiar with the Irresistible Force Paradox?"

Her brow raised. "The what? "

"Alright, I'll try this another way: What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object?" He awaited an answer, but never got one. "Simply put, in order for there to be an irresistible force, there can be no immovable objects, and vice versa. You see, neither one exists. And yet…" Avdol cracked a wry smile. "...an irresistible force can exist in spite of there being no immovable objects."

Joliet scoffed. "Where exactly are you going with this?! Is this some sick way of distracting me? Because it isn't working!"

Avdol held up his hands, palms out, moving them in a way that emphasized his speech. "Just bear with me for a second. Now, consider Newton's three laws of inertia. An object that remains at rest, or at a constant speed while traveling in a straight line, will not change unless acted upon by an external force. With that in mind, let's now put our attention to your stand's glue. This substance is sticky, keeping me and my friends planted firmly in place. This makes us, hypothetically speaking, objects at rest, yes? So, what do you think would happen if, say, one of us defied the laws of inertia and became an irresistible force?"

"That's impossible," she rebutted, "the only way you would be able to remove Avantasia's glue would be if you were capable of producing immense heat. That, and applying acetone. Besides, if I wanted to remove the glue myself, all my stand would need to do is reabsorb the sap through touch. And that isn't happening."

Avdol smirked. "Fair enough," he said, "I can admire how driven you are in your pursuit of justice, however…" Taking a calming breath through his nostrils, Avdol focused, channeling all of the thoughts urging him to save his friends into something else.

And then it happened: Avdol's foot shifted forward, taking a step. The glue beneath him separated, releasing its grasp on him, its surface warbling like water shaken by vibrations. Another step. Then another. Against all odds, he trudged forward, parting the sticky sap behind him as he went.

Joliet eyed him in utter shock as he marched toward her. "...something you didn't consider, Joliet, is that I am also driven by my emotions. By my needs, desires, and urges; the likes of which all living things experience. Though through extensive training, and proper channeling, I have become that irresistible force I mentioned earlier."

His expression was grave, brows furrowed. "With the power of Drive, no obstacle can stop me!"