Zed walks through a filthy alley, backlit by the neon of the main street.  He keeps his head down and his face in the shadows.  He approaches a young man in leather with a line tattooed from his scalp, over his left eye and down to his chin.  Zed flashes him a wad of multicolored bills and the man takes it, handing him a small plastic bag full of half-red, half-green capsules with a white "Z" on them.

"Hey, you're a Midnighter, right?" Zed asks the man.  "I'm looking to meet with your boss.  Think you can set that up?"

A light from a passing motorist at the other end of the alley temporarily lights Zed's face, revealing eyes of solid black, with no whites.  A synthetic!

The young man is startled.

"Aw, fuck no!  I ain't sellin' to no toy!  Give me that shit back!"

The young man produces a needler from under his jacket and levels it at Zed, but Zed grabs his arm and effortlessly breaks it.  The man begins to scream, and Zed punches him in the throat.  As the dying man collapses on the ground, clutching his throat, Zed picks up the needler from the puddle where it landed.  He pops a few pills, and then points the weapon at the man's head.  There's a thin electronic whine and a brief, quiet, "thrrrupt", and the young man falls dead in a pool of his own blood. 

 Zed pats the punk down, but all he finds is his money, some more pills and a wadded-up paper napkin.  Zed looks at the crusty napkin in disgust, but notes the name on it in silver ink, "Flatlinez".

Zed tosses the napkin onto the ground and hurriedly leaves the alley. 

 Agent Archer, dark sunglasses and stereotypical black suit and tie, moves carefully through a run-down tenement.  Putting a hand to his ear, he talks to the image that he can see overlayed in his glasses.

"Let it be Miller, this isn't your section.  I've got everything under control.  When Gamma section needs to know, you'll know and not before.  I've got to go."

The projected face of the dark, bald man disappears from his field of view.

He punches a worn button on the door and a grainy video display lights up above it.  Karl's face peers through.

"Are you the person with the android problem?" Archer asks.

"Yeah, come on in" Karl says as the door slides open.

Archer looks at the partially melted labor android.  "This the one?  What happened?"

Karl tells Archer about his fembot and the little one that left.

"You said she asked about a 'Dr. Meyer'?" Archer asks as he pulls out something that looks like a lighter.

"Yeah, she was all like..." he begins.  "Hey, what's that?"

Archer flips a switch on the device and the room is filled with a high-pitched whine.  Karl suddenly stiffens, twitches, foams at the mouth a bit and then collapses, dead. 

 Archer's earbud bleeps, and he puts his hand to his ear again.

"Archer", he answers.

Miller's face reappears.  "Word's down from Alpha.  Gamma, Delta, everybody in Department 7's in on this now.  Priority one.  Time to share."

"Fine, fine" Archer replies.  "It's just as well.  Lock in on these coordinates and come pick up this 'droid for scanning.  I'll fill you in then.  Archer out."

He takes a pack of cigarettes off of Karl's body, pulls one out with his lips, shuts off the light and leaves. 

 It's late, around 9:00 PM.  In the painfully flourescent, flickering light of the large room, Sen stands over an open orange polymer crate packed full of various 'droid components.  Through the large windows behind it can be seen huge mechanical arms in the night as they move more crates on and off of flatbeds bound for the ships even farther back.  The salty smell of the sea mixed with a petroleum tang fills the air, as well as the loud sounds of machinery, the calls of workers, and the occasional bellow from a ship's horn.

Unnoticed at first, Dr. Meyer stands in the doorway, apparently alone and unarmed, and calls out to Sen.  "Sen!" the doctor says calmly. "I knew I'd find you here.  It's time to go home now." 

 "Sen", the doctor replies, touching his trim white beard thoughtfully.  "There has been an error, a protocol malfunction.  Please, I need you to come with me.  They'll be here soon, and they won't understand."

As he talks, his thumbs work quickly and discretely on the small tablet he holds before him.  Outside, there is a squeal of tires and the sounds of car-doors slamming and general commotion.

"Your behavior is illogical, Sen.  You're endangering the mission…" 

 Sen hits the ground outside, running on shredded feet.  Gunfire pops and rattles across the dock as Sen ducks and weaves between cars, crates and dockworkers.  Though not as strong as the labor 'droid, this unit moves with rapid fluidity, dodging and dancing between bullets that spang, bounce and punch through nearby crates, cars and unfortunate dockworkers.

There's an effort to give chase, but Sen is soon lost in the maze of Somewhere's alleys.

Sen finally settles in a dirty crawlspace between tall office buildings.  It slumps against the wall and slides to the ground, releasing its small companion and the stolen cybernetics.  It goes limp and its head droops forward as smoke seeps from the seams beneath its hair.

A homeless man at the far end of the alley takes note, picks up his bottle of hooch, and makes for someplace more private.

Now alone, Sen's arms begin to move as if each was given its own volition, removing the 'droid's face and the attached "brain".  Gouts of smoke pour out of the opening, and there is visible sparking and flame along the surface of the device.  With deft movements, the 'droid's hands swap components between the two devices and place the new face and brain-case back inside before falling limply once again to the dirty pavement.

After several silent moments, Sen jerks upright.  The face it wears now is perfectly bland and blandly perfect, neither male nor female.

"Thank you, Memory", Sen says to the doll.  "This unit does provide needed throughput and processing speed as well as enhanced cooling.  System failure threat is no longer critical.  This decision-path is positive.  Device upgrade provides advancement toward the new mission goal."

The doll stares at Sen blankly from its resting place next to an empty cardboard box.

"Come, Memory", Sen says.  "Data analysis suggests that we have much left to do." 

 Three Midnighters sit on a stoop on a dark neighborhood street.  A neon sign from somewhere nearby casts an intermittent orange glow upon the phosphorescent crescent moons sewn to the backs of their jackets.  The smallest of the three wears a pair of goggles and earbuds with a cable that runs to a small device in his hand that he thumbs rapidly as he talks.

"LOL," he says too loudly to no one in particular as more text scrolls in green across his goggles.  "You think everything is allcaps, "THE BIG ONE", endcaps.  Not everything is Roswell, man.  Send."

"Peeves...  PEEVES!" the largest of the three stage-whispers to the smallest as he jabs him hard in the ribs.  "Lookit!"

"WHAT?"  Peeves replies with annoyance as he pulls up his goggles and looks across the street to where a petite young woman walks with determination.  Under her arm is a large doll.

"Aw, hells yeah," the middle punk says enthusiastically as he gropes himself.  "Tonight just got interesting!"

The three Midnighters get up and start strutting towards Sen, spreading out as they do to surround "her". 

 "It ain't a girl," the big one says, disappointedly.  "It's one o' them things."

"So?" the middle one shrugs.

Peeves gives the middle one a look.  "Anyway, it must belong to a cop, but if we can catch it, it's worth a bunch.  Even if it's just spare parts."

"Come here little android" Peeves calls out sweetly.  "We're your new friends."