Ya kno? I really like this fic so far, I'm pretty proud of it! I mean I've had this idea in my head for a while but I never submitted it because I thought would ban me or something, but now that they allow 'mature' fics to be submitted I decided to do just that. Even though their whole submitting system is unbearably gay. Oh yeah, and I got a few questions about this, Paradigm does have computers people. How do u think they made those CD's? How do you think Dorothy's programming Disk was written? Now the internet thing I'm not so sure about. But remember when Dastun was looking at Angel and the other rebels' records? There were printed pictures next to their files and everything so it obviously came from a computer. And if the rebels' have records to look up then I'm guessing the police station has a database online or something.


C h a p t e r: II – H e r o i n S a i d " H i ! "


I used to be such a welfare stoner

I used to be such a twilight zoner

I used to be such a money-bumming boozer

I used to be a masochistic schmoozer

But now I'm worldwide-

You know that I made it

I'm above the law-

I'm the zillion dollar sadist

Zillion dollar sadist

What do you want?

What do you want for nothing baby?

What do you want?

What do you want for free?

I tell you what you need,

it's some Hanky-action baby

I wanna hear you scream in denim ecstasy, yes indeed.

Because now I'm worldwide-

you know that I made it

I'm above the world

I'm the zillion dollar sadist

zillion dollar sadist

Well Come on!

Yeah, I'm worldwide-

you know that I made it

I'm above the world

I'm the zillion dollar sadist

zillion dollar sadist

Take it to the bridge

I promise fun

To all and everyone.

No questions asked

It's gonna be great!

A new dimension of fun

Do anything you wanna do

Do anything you wanna do

Do anything you wanna do

Do anything you wanna do

Do anything you wanna do

Do anything you wanna do

Do anything you wanna do

Do anything,

you wanna do!

"Zillion Dollar Super Sadist" – TurboNegro



Beck groaned irritably, curling deeper into the comforter.

Rrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnggggggg Rrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnggggggg

Another annoyed moan accompanied the persistent ringing as the blond haired man turned onto his other side.


He exhaled dramatically in frustration before thrusting his head underneath his golden caramel hued pillow.

Rrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnggggggg Rrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnggggggg Rrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnggggggg

Peeking one bloodshot eye out from under the cushion he glared menacingly at the innocent looking phone as it continued to vibrate with each piercing blare, willing it to suddenly spontaneously combust.

Beck let out a pleasurable sigh at the welcomed return of peaceful silence to his bedroom. Allowing himself a small, satisfied smile he tiredly propped his head back onto his billowy pillow, snuggling into its velvety comfort with a sleepy grin of happiness. His body started to relax once more into the yumminess of sleep as it began to drape a warm blanket of hazy, slothful, slumber over him.


Two bloodshot eyes instantly snapped open as if a bullet had been fired. Jerking the covers away from his body he ignored the freezing rush of cold air hitting his once heated skin as he threw himself to the floor, frisking the ground for his pants.

Bbbzzzzzzzzzz! Bbbzzzzzzzzzz!

"I'mcomingI'mcomingI'mcoming!" He muttered frantically, giving a cry of victory when his hand at last grabbed hold of his gold colored pants in the murky darkness.


"Don'thangupDon'thangupDon'thangup!" He grumbled anxiously ferreting about in one pocket, cursing when he found it empty before darting to the other.


"Hello!" He said eagerly yanking the cellular phone from its confines inside his opposite pocket and smashing it to his ear.

"Why didn't you answer the phone, Beck?" Came the deep, baritone of Rosewater.

"What? I just did-"

"No, you answered your cell phone. I called your phone first." His voice had that eerie edge of fatality to it, like he already knew that Beck was at home to answer his call.

The blond paled, his eyes glancing guiltily at the gold plated telephone still hanging quietly on its receiver. "Eh, sorry. I just got outta the shower." He lied sincerely. He waited anxiously through the silence, grateful when his answer seemed to satisfy the older man.

"I need you here tomorrow. Come by around six." Rosewater commanded, but his voice seemed lined with some fatigue he was forcefully trying to contain. He guessed the battle with Smith hadn't gone as well as planned.

Nodding absentmindedly, Beck forgot for a moment that he was on the phone and not talking to his new boss in person. Before he got the chance to correct his slip up his ear was met with a click followed by an annoying dial tone. He sat there, temporarily stunned, before slumping to the floor with a breath of relief. His telephone was just a phone and anyone calling it probably wasn't someone he particularly wanted to talk to anyway, but only one of two people would call him personally on his cell phone. And either call wasn't one he could risk missing. Bringing his index and forefinger up to his face he gently rubbed the weariness from his sleep-sore eyes. Turning, he raised his head to eye the digital clock, glaring a bright red 10:17 p.m. at him. 'That's what ya get for falling asleep at 7 a.m.' he thought tiredly.

Giving brief pause to stretch, he climbed back into bed almost startled to find someone else in it. Suddenly all the memories of the past few hours tore through the induced fog of sleep. He was however a little surprised to find her in the same exact position he had left her in. She simply lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Had her eyes not been open, and she not been a machine, he would have thought her asleep too. He observed her confusedly for second, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

"Hey." He said reaching out to shake her shoulder.

Instantly upon contact, Dorothy's arm darted out, rudely shoving him away from her. Unfortunately, with her strength, she also shoved him away from the bed, and back onto the floor. A painful grunt reverberated up from the floor as he lay there, now trying to sort through the pain and exhaustion of a tired brain.

"Access denied."

Beck tenderly kneeled up to look over the bed at her. She was sitting up now watching him carefully. "What?"

"Access denied. The username or password you entered was incorrect. If you have forgotten your password, please use the lost password form to recover it. If you are still unable to recover your password, see the FAQ for more information. If you would like to sign up for a username and password please go to registration."

'Oh, this again.'

"Please enter username, or if you would like to register for a username, please go to registration."

"Jason Beck."

"Please enter password."

"Android lover." He answered lazily crawling back into bed, scootching back beneath the covers, and folding his arms behind his head comfortably.

"Username and password combination, accepted. Welcome, Jason Beck."

"Yeah, yeah." He said, still feeling rather offended at being hurled from his own bed.

"Why did you not answer the phone?" She questioned after a while.

"Huh? You could hear that?"

"Yes. Couldn't you?"

"I was too tired to answer it. Besides, I thought you were, I dunno, 'logged out' or something like that. How could you hear it?"

"This system, after so many hours of inactivity will log you out of your running program; however, my sensors are still able to remain active by running off of it." She explained.

Beck blinked unintelligibly. He didn't really care that much about how she was still able to remain active, but her answer didn't go completely to waste. "So then why didn't you answer the phone?"

"This compact disk, when online, runs off of your commands. When you are logged out, I can only run off of commands of its own." She deadpanned.

"And those are….."

"To await correct corresponding usernames and passwords. No one may gain access without them."

"Huh, good security." He grumbled rubbing his sore shoulder grudgingly.

"I would advise you to enter your username and password before attempting to gain access."

A lecherous grin spread across his face as he leered at her suggestively. "And what exactly would I be attempting to gain access to?" He asked feigning naivety.

"My body. Is that not the reason you have given me this lewd program?"

Beck sighed pleasurably. "Yeah, I just like to hear you say it." He said waving away her questions. His back expanded leisurely until he heard a resounding crack. A flash of almost unnoticeable pain shot up his spine before a calming satisfaction floated in its place. For some reason he always woke up with a kink or two that needed a good popping. His eyes went to the ceiling, mimicking her own position not a few moments ago. He really wasn't sleepy anymore, and he was still somewhat sated with sexual aftershock, so he felt no particular urge to go again quite yet. He shifted a bit here and there, the beginnings of boredom starting to set in. Of course maybe he would feel more inclined to initiate a few more sexcapades if he knew he wouldn't be the only participant, he thought sourly. "I know we're not exactly 'bosom buddies' here, but you could of at least acknowledged my presence last night." He stated bitterly.

"I was aware of you." She replied.

"Not like that! I mean I was doing all the work. Crow Boy must've taught you a few moves, or something." He griped.

"Roger has never taught me anything of a sexual nature, if that is what you are referring to."

He stared at her as if waiting for her to say 'just kidding.' "Are you serious?"

"Yes." Dorothy only observed as the lengthy man burst out into uncontrollable laughter, clutching at his sides and kicking his feet as if in the beginning stages of a fit.

He gasped for air holding his ribs trying to control the straining pain there from his hilarity, his finger idly rising to dab away the tears at his eyes. "Wait wait, okay. So you're telling me that all this time that you've been in that house, full of men, that Smith not even once tried anything?"

"If by 'tried anything' you mean if he has ever made sexual advances towards me, then no."

At that Beck resumed his laughter, though he did make an effort to not roll around so much and did try to control it a bit. "Then what the hell did he bring you home for? To clean?" He chuckled.


This time he couldn't even summon the strength to make an effort as his stomach shook and spasmed. Had he been drinking milk it would have sprayed harder than a fireman hose as he proceeded to laugh himself off the bed. Even the painful crash onto the floor didn't phase or pause his mirth.

Dorothy crept to the edge to once again see him curled and shaking in the fetal position, but this time it was his ribs he was clutching instead of his groin. The same roaring hilarity blared from his mouth as he merrily kicked his feet.

Finally, only when his lungs began to complain for air did he feel his ecstatic amusement die into merry giggles. With a satisfied sigh his eyes slid open to find Dorothy peering over the ledge of the bed again. He took the time to examine her rare immaculate-less appearance. Her neck and chest harbored quite of few trails of dried saliva, crusted where he left it, and her hair now gave her the look of a frazzled cat, locks fraying here and there and her bangs shagging into her eyes. He raised his hand nonchalantly to her chest, his thumb idly drawing invisible circles around her nipple. Well she had said that she wasn't made for sex, and Roger, like an impotent dumbass, had obviously heeded that stupid little warning. Beck on the other hand, firmly believed that if there was a rule, there was most likely a creative way to get around it. A sudden grin spread across his face.

"Hey, ya know what we should do?" He wasn't really asking her but she decided to reply anyway.

"Retrieve my original disk and hard drive and return me to Roger." She said, her voice almost a command.

"No. Its late, lets go to a strip club." He suggested getting to his feet. "I'm gonna take a quick shower then we can go." He said already having his mind made up and ambling in all of his nude glory towards the bathroom.

Dorothy watched his form disappear behind the door into the connecting room. Twisting her feet from under her she stepped from the bed to take a brief walk about the room, examining her surroundings for the first time. It seemed if anything could be gold colored or plated it probably was. The room was foppishly gaudy at best. Black carpeting lined the floor along with black curtains, dressers and nightstands. The bed, pillows and walls were a warm golden honey color. Upon her inspection she noticed the open door of the bedroom, most likely leading to the rest of the apartment. Glancing at her clothes sagging limply in random places about the room she gave pause to wonder if she should get dressed just yet. Would he want her to take a shower as well? She temporarily dismissed the clothes to walk out of the room and into the hallway, had he wanted or expected her to be dressed by the time he was done bathing he would have instructed her to do so. Besides, her programming urged her to cover her body as little as possible.

The short, barren hallway led to a large living room on the right and a decent sized kitchen on the left. She noticed to the far right of the hallway was another door, no doubt leading to another bedroom. Stepping into the juncture between the kitchen and living room her eyes scanned towards a different door resting between the two, the notch above the knob was turned up indicating that it was more than likely locked. It probably was the only exit in the entire home. She stared at it for a long while knowing that had she her original disk to run from her sensors would be telling her rip the door from its hinges and calmly return to Roger. But for some reason she could not do that now. No one had instructed her to return to the mansion of Roger Smith, so she would have no proclivity of leaving. Yet even without her other disk, which allowed her so much freedom, she was still self aware enough to know that getting back to Roger was what she should do. Unfortunately, for now all she could do was wait. Even though the mathematical odds of her ever retrieving her original hard drive and memory circuits were slim, Roger would still most likely be looking for her. And her sensors computed that it was more favorable for her well being to be returned to Roger than to be under Jason Beck's control with this program. Still, as long as she had this program inside her, she could do nothing but wait. But at least that was something any android or mechanical creation was skilled in. Waiting. Because unlike humans, she had all the time in the world.

Walking sullenly up she raised her cold metallic hand to place it upon the barrier between herself and freedom. 'Push it open.' Dorothy tried to focus all of her sensory circuits into obeying but it was like running a compact disk in an incompatible system, her hand simply wouldn't press. She could always short circuit herself but what good would she be then? It was unlikely that Beck would take the time and energy to get her repaired a second time. And she was more useful to herself functioning than not. She could not find a loophole in this program if she was shutdown. No, she would continue to function as long as the possibility of leaving remained.

Giving up for the moment, Dorothy let her hand slip from the door and moved into the living room. A long black, velvet couch lay against the wall, a honey colored coffee table sat in front of it, and on the side of it stood a caramel tinted nightstand with an extravagant lamp on top. The Living Room was also carpeted in a warm golden color ending at the far end of the room where two sliding glass doors met. Looking beyond the doors Dorothy noted a small balcony protruding from the side of the spacious apartment. It reminded her somewhat of the balcony she had taken a penchant to sitting on at the mansion. Almost involuntarily, she began pacing towards it. Just as she came to the middle of the room something caught her attention out of her peripheral vision. A small empty bookshelf lay against the wall opposite of the couch, several pictures of different sizes in different frames sat atop said shelf. She examined it for a second before crossing the room. The shelf was a gold color, much like most of the furniture in the home. Her eyes skimmed over each picture, many were black and whites of practically nude women posing suggestively or wrapping them themselves seductively around a shining metal pole. Every now and then one would include a well dressed middle aged man with raven hair gelled back against his scalp and a thin black goatee dusting his chin and upper lip. He would usually be seen grinning around a flaming cigar or holding a glass of something that was no doubt liquor of some sort in his hand, or both.

One picture in particular caught her attention. It rested in the middle amidst the others in a noticeably well-crafted bronze frame. Several scantily clad women gathered around what looked like a catwalk with the same metal pole thrusting up out of it at the end. They all stood close together, some leaning over the other to get into the picture, but all were smiling brilliantly into the camera. There on the catwalk was a tall voluptuous young woman with long, thick, curly blond hair and seductive eyes leaning back, hanging lazily off the pole on top of the catwalk, one leg wrapped around the metal shaft, the other lifting straight in the air. As the hand not facing the camera gripped the pole, the other grasped a young boy with hair and a smile that mimicked her own. The young boy and woman both grinned slyly into the camera, the boy's hands resting atop the woman's arm that was playfully wrapped around his waist. The same raven haired man leaned casually against the side of the walk puffing away at his cigar, wearing a red dress shirt and black pants while the blond woman, as well as most of the others, wore nothing but a pair of miniscule red panties that disappeared into a thin string down her buttocks, and her well endowed chest covered only with scarlet tassels that hung from her nipples. The little boy was dressed similar to the dark haired man, wearing a yellow dress shirt that looked at least one size too big for him, and a pair of khaki paints held up by caramel colored suspenders, probably the only thing that kept the pants from dropping to his ankles. His thick blond hair was gelled neatly to retain his curls yet a large rebellious coil still managed to sweep across his forehead, brushing a set of overly large classes that his little nose could barely support. He looked young and boyish; he couldn't have been more than seven or eight in the picture.

"Hey, what're you doing out here?"

Dorothy looked up from the picture she was holding to see Beck standing in between the kitchen and living room, one hand holding a white towel at his hips. His hair, she noticed, was already blown dry and gelled perfectly into place. The rest of him appeared to be dry enough as well, the only thing she assumed he needed to do was get dressed. Dismissing him for the moment she returned to the picture.

"Is this you?" She questioned, not taking her eyes away from the portrait.

"Huh?" Wanting to see what was so fetching, Beck sauntered over to the unclothed android, stopping behind her to peer over her shoulder. "Oh, that. Yeah." He said glancing at the photograph.

"Is that your sister? The one holding you?" She asked.

"Her?" He asked incredulously, pointing at the slinky blond woman curled around the gleaming, fireman pole. "No, that's my mom." He corrected.

"She possesses fairly young features." Dorothy noted, her tone wasn't condescending or implying, she was just stating an observation. The woman looked to be about twenty-two or twenty-three. It was quite young to already have a seven or eight year old boy, compared to what she had seen of most human women. That would make her fifteen or fourteen when she birthed him.

"Yeah she was a teen mom. Go wash real quick, we gotta leave." He instructed jerking his thumb towards the hallway, probably indicating the bathroom.

Setting the photo down she strode off down the hallway towards the bathroom, Beck in toe.

He stopped at the closet lying against the wall opposite his bed and began to rummage through his clothing while Dorothy moved into the bathroom. Black marble tile decorated the floor, moving up into an ebony toilet, onyx bathtub, and a black marble sink with a gold faucet, handles and gold-framed mirror above it. The shower was on the other side of the bathroom and resembled a glass box. She gave it a brief once over before sliding back the crystallized door and climbing in. Recognizing the knobs for hot and cold she reached out and turned the hot knob only halfway. It didn't matter how hot or cold the water was, she couldn't feel the extreme of either temperature either way, but scalding water tended to damage the skin covering her metallic body and she would rather not do any more repairs on herself then need be.

Instantly the water poured down onto her like rain, running tiny rivets along every curve of her slight form. Already finding the bath sponge she proceeded to run it along the trails of dried saliva crusted to her neck and chest, scrubbing her body free from other bacteria or dirt particles that may have gotten onto her. Traveling the sponge down the length of her steel-like stomach she noticed another liquid had dried along her thighs and into the hole between her legs. Without giving it a second thought she continued to scour it away with the coral-like sponge. Quickly washing herself, she conditioned, and rinsed her hair before turning off the water and stepping out of the shower.

Grabbing a towel from the hook she efficiently dried her body and hair before picking up a random comb from the sink and brushing her locks free of any knot or tangle. Walking back into the bedroom she saw that Beck was just buttoning up his golden over-jacket. He looked up from his work seeming surprised to see her standing there.

"You done already?"

Dorothy gave a curt nod before Beck handed her a bundle of black that she recognized as the skirt part of her dress and her underwear.

"Here, put these on and I'll find you a shirt."

She did as she was told. Sliding into her skirt and underwear, reaching behind her to zip it up just as he popped back out of his closet with a honey colored, satin, dress shirt.

"Put your arms out to the side." He instructed holding out the shirt.

Her arms rose with the same mechanical noises that accompanied many of her movements. He proceeded to slip it onto her as though she were a doll to play dress up with. The shirt was obviously a man's, as it sagged pitifully off of her waiflike frame. She watched him impassively as he studied her for a moment before buttoning her selectively. He started with her collar, leaving a few unbuttoned, and ended at her metal rib cage, tying the ends in a knot a few inches below her breasts.

"There ya go." He said pleasingly. The sleeves had to be rolled up to keep from hanging off her hands, but they still billowed widely from her elbows. Stepping back to admire her, his eyes ran over her frame all the way up to her dour face. "We better stop and get some shoes on the way." He proclaimed.

Glancing down at herself Dorothy had to come to the conclusion that Jason Beck's handicap in taste far surpassed that of Roger Smith.

"Okay! Lets go!" He exclaimed, taking her by the wrist to hurry out the door.


"Your mother resembles the women portrayed in this program." Dorothy noted, resuming the conversation of earlier once they got in the car.

"My Mom wasn't a porn star." He objected, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye; though Dorothy paid him no mind. "She worked as an exotic dancer. Her parents were two lost people that only got married because of that sudden plague of amnesia. They were lonely and it seemed a good idea at the time. But I guess the more they got to know each other the more they hated each other's guts so they got divorced soon after Mom was born. Her mom left and she lived with her dad until he died when she was twelve. Instead of going to live with her mom she ran away. About a year later a guy named Max Broderick found her busing tables-"

"Was he the man in the pictures?"

"Yeah that's him. Anyways, Mom was an 'early bloomer' and he said she was hot-" Dorothy watched the slight twitch in his eye at being forced to refer to his mother as 'hot.' "and asked her if she wanted to come work for him. He owned a pretty upscale gentlemen's club and could pay her pretty well. She agreed and as far as I know still works there."

"As an exotic dancer?"

"Nah, last I heard she retired when she turned thirty five and works as the manager now."

"Is Max Broderick your father?"

"Hm?" He asked, as if that were an option he had never considered himself. "No, he's not my dad. I never met the guy." He shrugged nonchalantly. He had seen Max as a father figure, him being the only other male constant at the club.

"You were raised in a gentlemen's club, then?"

"Yeah, pretty much. The club was one big building, with the club in the lower part and all the apartments above it. Mom and I had an apartment in the upper wing with the rest of the strippers." He said conversationally. "That's gotta be every boy's dream." He chuckled.

"When did you leave?"

"When I was sixteen."

"Have you seen your mother?"

"Not since I left?"


Beck shrugged. "I dunno. I was either on a heist, working angles, or in prison." He said the last part glimpsing at her rather accusingly.

Dorothy said nothing. She stared out her window watching the night scenery pass by, noticing that they had entered the slummier part of Paradigm. Every now and then they would pass a suggestively dressed woman, or two, soliciting herself on the street, or a shifty looking man exchanging money for something in a small package to a particularly desperate looking person. Bright lights of bars, strip clubs, and casinos lit up the filth smeared streets. Her head turned to attention when the car made a turn and pulled into the parking lot of an odd shop. A bright, neon red sign, spelled out 'Tricks and Treats' in vertical letters outlining the neon red silhouette of a naked female posing provocatively against the letters.

"I'll be back." Was the only leave Beck gave as he exited the car and made his way into the seductive store.

Waiting patiently, Dorothy returned to her window. Trash littered the sidewalks and streets, and would toss and turn every now and then when the wind picked up. She briefly entertained the thought of getting out to pick it all up, but shot it down just as soon as it had risen. He had not told her to get out of the car. Her eyes traveled up the side of an especially seedy looking building. The bricks it was built with were old and decaying, mold was beginning to formulate on its side and bacteria was breeding within its crevices.


Suddenly two grimy hands were pressed against her pristine window along with a dirt-smudged face. Any normal woman would have immediately startled back in fright, but Dorothy only looked up into the dirty face, taking notice of his raggedy clothing. "Hey Miss, you got any change?" He asked clawing at her window with his yellow fingernails. "Roll down your window, I just want to talk to ya!" He pleaded.

Dorothy obediently pressed the button, her window slowly moving down with an automated buzzing. Instantly the car filled with the odor of rot as the man pushed his head invasively through the opening, what was left of his greasy, unwashed hair sticking to his forehead and scalp. "You got any change? Please Miss, I haven't eaten in days!" He beseeched, a foul stench coming from a mouth full of yellow decaying teeth.

"I am sorry but I have no money, I cannot help you." She said monotonously.

He looked at her outraged before his encrusted hand darted into the car with the rest of his head, clutching her arm. "Don't give me that! You come down here in a car like this, dressed like that, and expect me to believe you've ain't got nothing!" He said jerking her unmoving arm.

Dorothy assumed with his grunting and pulling that he was attempting to yank her through the window, she supposed had she been human he most likely would have succeeded. But since she was not, her gaze merely flickered to the hand gripping her arm that still remained at her side with her own hands fixed politely in her lap. Her head turned when she heard the door to the shop swing open with a deafening crash.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing!" Beck shouted, instantly dropping his bags and yanking out a silver coated pistol, firing several shots at the grime covered man who gave a few choice curses before releasing her to dash down the corner and out of sight.

Beck continued to glare at the path the man had taken before reaching down, grumbling, to gather his bags back up and make his way to the car. Throwing them quickly into her side of the car he swung into his seat slamming the door behind him. "Fucking rat…" He muttered turning on the ignition. "What the hell'd you let him in the car for!" He exclaimed.

"I did not let him in the car. I simply rolled down my window." She corrected.

"What the hell for!"

"Because he asked me to."

Beck gaped at her for a second before returning to grumbling to himself and backing out of the driveway. "From now on don't open the door, or roll down the window for anybody but me, got it?" He stated brusquely.

Dorothy gave a terse nod about to resume her post at the now grease smeared window before be pushed a certain bag further into her lap.

"Open it." He coaxed.

Beck watched her out of the corner of his eye as she looked down at the white paper bag, parting the string handles to examine his purchase. His eyes followed her petite hand seeing it disappear into the sack and pull out a mane of blond hair, holding it out for her inspection. "Quick put it on!" He urged.

The android glanced at him then back to the long wig resting in her hand. It was a cornflower color, the straight hair flowing into her lap, long bangs curling around and framing her wrist. Swaying it over her head, she tugged it over her own hair, the elastic band catching and damaging the red strands until she tucked the locks underneath the wig. A gold covered arm darted in front of her to pull down a flap in the car to reveal a mirror. Dorothy studied her new appearance objectively. Silky blond bangs now brushed her forehead, growing in length down her cheeks until it framed her face handsomely, the length of the hair altogether coming below her waist. The color went naturally with her deathly pale complexion, but her dark mechanical eyes and eyebrows made it look fake. "What is this for?"

"Don't wanna be recognized on this side of town, now do ya?" He joked.

"I do not think it is me who does not want to be recognized." She said looking through the car windshield. "Besides, there is nothing for you to worry about. I doubt Roger Smith would ever come willingly to this section of the city."

Beck blanched for a second before scoffing. "I'm not worried about Crow Boy! You're supposed to be 'out of commission.' Rosewater would be shitting kittens if anyone told him I put you back online."

Dorothy glanced at him briefly before turning back. He was telling half-truths, that much was obvious. She had no doubt that Alex Rosewater would not be the least bit pleased to find out that she was still functioning, but he needed Jason Beck enough to make him indispensable. For some reason that she could not compute, he was still apprehensive about Roger randomly appearing. Like a little boy would a shopkeeper he had stolen from. Either way, she dismissed it until he once again caught her attention.

"There are some shoes in the bag at your feet." He indicated.

Following his instructions she glanced at the floor and sure enough she could plainly see a pair of black shoes at the bottom of the bag. Leaning down far enough to pull them out she notices they were high heels with two straps that went around her ankles. She could tell Beck was watching her as she pulled the provocative heel onto her slender foot, dispassionately strapping on the first strap before moving on to the second shoe. Dorothy leaned back into her seat once she was done, idly lifting up one leg a little to scrutinize the new look. The extended heel made gave her leg the illusion of lengthiness, she noted.

"We're here!" Beck jovially announced.

Dorothy looked up as they pulled in front of a well-illuminated building. Like the shop it had bright neon outlines of naked females posed implicatively around the construction. She followed Beck's lead and opened the car door, stepping out in front of what she guess was the 'strip club.' Instead of going for the door she watched him move to go around the building before following after him.

At the back of a building was a set of steps that led to a door with a slotted peephole.

"C'mon." He said, not looking at her as he climbed up the steps.

She did as she was told and hastened her pace a fraction, finding herself climbing up after him. She stopped at his back when he halted at the door, raising his arm to languidly rap at the new entrance with the back of his knuckles. Almost instantly the slot swished open revealing a pair of suspicious eyes glaring out.

"What?" Came a rumbling voice from behind the door.

"Its me." Beck said simply, casually pulling out a card from his wallet and flashing it in front of the slot.

The voice behind the door chuckled, snapping the slot shut, before yanking the door open with a mighty swing. A large, muscular man stood there in the entranceway, his baldhead shining in the red light of the room. "C'mon in." He said grinning deviously at the other man.

Beck put a hand to Dorothy's shoulder, ushering her in before him. Although it was rather difficult to 'usher' a two hundred and forty pound robot. The room was lit with a scarlet glow, occasionally other purples and reds filtered about with the ever moving, multi-colored spotlights. An impossibly long couch stretched, and circled the entirety of the room where a long catwalk protruded into the middle of it. A small bar was set off to the side where a middle aged bar tender scrubbed carelessly away at an empty glass mug. There were only a few other customers there; the rest of the room was taken up by several strippers being ogled by the random clientele. Some swung lazily from the poll erected from the catwalk, others danced and gyrated on it, and the rest shimmied and dipped in the throes of their erotic dance while awestruck customers tripped over themselves to shove dollar bills down their stringy panties.

He was like a caged animal finally being returned to his natural habitat. Dorothy followed as Beck paid his greetings to passing clients, the bartender, and of course the dancers. Pausing briefly to order a quick drink, he then made his way over to the circling sofa, unceremoniously throwing himself back into the cushions with a dramatic sigh. Dorothy sat down mechanically, her posture as immaculate as ever and seated far enough off the couch to let the span of her feet touch the carpeted floor. Beck fished around through his coat pockets before lazily pulling out another cigar. "The price of these things is getting fucking insane." He commented, idly clipping the end off. He was just lighting it up as a girl came up to them with the bartender who handed him his drink.

"Hey there Beck-honey, haven't seen you in a while. Who's your friend?" She asked, already beginning to sway her hips with the seductive music.

"What can I say? I'm a busy man." He said, popping the cigar in his mouth, wanting to get a quick puff in before continuing. "This is Dorothy." He finished, blowing a gust of smoke through his nostrils.

The woman's focus went to the stoic girl next to him before moving so she was more or less dancing in front of her to get her attention. "I'm Jasmine. That's not your real hair color is it? I can tell, I use the bottle too. Mine's Summer Honey-Suckle, what do you use?" She inquired, doing a gyrating twirl before coming back to face her.

Dorothy remained unmoved by an act that would have even the most lascivious of men bleeding out the nose. "I don't know. I didn't buy it." She responded coolly.

Jasmine did a mock shiver and 'brrr'ed coyly. "My my, so cold. What's wrong, honey? Don'tchya like me?"

Beck gave an obnoxious laugh. "She doesn't like anybody." He casually remarked, downing his drink in one swig.

"You don't say." The dancer replied, eyeing the other girl with new interest. "Anything I can do to change that? C'mon sweetie, I don't bite." She purred, snapping her teeth in a teasing chomp.

His mind was a great flood of sinful images projected from that very statement. "Now that would be something you don't see everyday." He slurred, gesturing the waiter for another drink. Sniggering at the thought, he wondered just how far the girl would go until she figured out her new crush was an android.

Dorothy said nothing and continued to look ahead unaffected. This place was for the procreational daydreams of men and she had no actual purpose in this establishment. Her sensors buzzed and calculated but couldn't yet come to a conclusion as to why Jason Beck would bring her here. She noticed the woman that had been moving erotically in front of her was now slouching off in a pout after another ten minutes of not catching her attention.

The flashing lights and red of the room all began to mesh and blur together as Beck tossed his forth glass of the evening down with a glorified gulp. He eyes roved over the other girls as they swayed and twisted in front of the gawking men. Throwing his hands over the back of the sofa he let himself relax even further into the cushioning. This was turning out to be the best strip-night ever! He tossed a glimpse at the android sitting next him, still looking as rigid as the world's most anal-retentive librarian. He knew she wasn't really watching anything, more like just looking forward, but he followed her gaze to one of the pole dancers wrapping her legs around the bar from an upside down position. "Think you could do that?" He giggled.

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye she looked ahead again, focusing on the woman he was referring to. The girl looked to be balancing her body weight between her back and thighs, and she did a mental scan to check the weight limit of the pole before replying. "Yes."

Yet another comment that had him all a-twitter with images he would pay good money to realize. "Why don't we have one of those?" He groused, eyeing the gleaming fireman's shaft. He was curious as to what it would cost to actually install it in the living room. Throwing back his next glass he felt the edges of his vision fuzz gloriously.

The next few hours went by rather uneventfully. Dorothy sat and computed the factors in her surroundings, saving it to memory, while Beck was beginning to have a bit of a hard time keeping his eyes from crossing in front of him. "Yep, definitely think I'm at my limit." He lilted drunkenly.

Dorothy spared him a fleeting glimpse, taking in his change in balance and demeanor and considered the many physical variables the liquor substances had now altered. "Your blood-alcohol level is past the legal driving limit." She informed impassively.

Beck swayed up almost landing face first on the carpet. Regaining his footing he swung around to mischievously dangle the care keys before her mechanical eyes. "That's only if we get pulled over." He sing-songed.

Rising up herself she followed him out the door, pausing as he bid his slurred farewells to the chuckling bouncer. She stopped at the steps and waited for him to clamber down the few stairs, idly wondering whether or not she should grab his arm to help center his body weight from the dramatic seesaw motions he was making before he skidded his face on the pavement. Then again, he hadn't told her to do so and from what she could recall on her memory drive she had no reason to give him any sort of show of preference.

She watched as he clung to the railing like a life raft in the middle of a shark-infested ocean. As much as he boasted, he truly must've been born a lucky man because he made it down in one piece, even when all her statistic readings showed her his chances of smashing his forehead into the concrete were 12,673,002 to 1. Apparently he was that ever so fortunate 1.

Walking easily down the steps after him she followed behind until they reached the car. Dorothy stopped again in front it as if it were the most obvious thing to do.

He had his fingers on the handle and sluggishly turned her way. "What?" He questioned when he noticed she wasn't getting in.

"Your reaction time has been slowed by 10 percent, your inhibitions have been dulled. You are not fit to drive." She stated.

In total honesty, he could have summed up that whole spiel in a three second commentary, 'you're drunk.' There, that's all she had to say, jeeze. "Loosen up, live a little." He drawled with a careless shrug, staggering into the car. He hit his head on the side of the roof and bruised his hip on the shift, but eventually made it in. Rubbing his new glamorous bruise he glanced to the side noticing the empty seat to his right. "Hey-"


His slur was abruptly cut off by the sudden violent twisting and crushing of metal and wires. Beck couldn't have shoved his head out the window faster had someone thrown him out. Frantically scrambling half his body out of the small opening he gawked hysterically at the new crater replacing what used to be a suped up engine God himself would've been proud of. Thin swirls of smoke trailed from the gaping hole, and tortured whistles of pressurized air could be heard wheezing from the crumpled hood.

He didn't know if his muscles simply couldn't hold him up any more at such an awkward angle, or if he was having his first heart attack. Either way the next thing he knew he was tumbling out the window and hitting the pavement with a painful 'thump!', though it was barely felt over the roaring white noise ringing in his ears. Quickly recovering himself, he reeled up and stumbled over to horror sight.

For a moment he could only gawk at the grotesque hole, heroically fighting back the miserable stinging behind his eyes as she calmly replaced her placid fist by her side. What did you say? What could you say to this? "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" He bellowed. Was she menstrual? Could robots get menstrual?

Dorothy seemed completely unaffected by the panicked tirade. "You do not have the level of focused awareness or reaction time required to drive any vehicle."

Beck's mouth opened and closed, flapping for anything to say. "What the hell are we supposed to do?" He squawked dumbly.

"We walk." She deadpanned already starting off on the sidewalk of the street they'd taken.

Giving his demolished pride and joy one last mourning look he began to swagger after her. He'd always managed to avoid hangovers before, he was just lucky that way, but right now he could feel the bile rising in his stomach. Tossing her rigid back a scathing glare he wondered how she would react, if she did at all, if he simply spilled his guts all over her that expressionless face of hers.