"[color=ec008c]I was walkin' through the big city lights...[/color]"

An ethereal, synthesized voice called out into the night. The shimmering streets of downtown Los Angeles, normally bustling, were nearly barren at this time of night. Even in such eventful times, cities slept, and when they did, Frontal Lobe was alone with his thoughts. Pacing the slick sidewalk of a city he used to be familiar with, the possessed android chirped out a tune to amuse himself. His "face," a hypnotic, glorified screensaver, shined back at him in the large puddles in the street. It had just stopped raining a little while ago, and he was content to take a stroll through the steaming city.

"[color=ec008c]As I was walkin' I was lookin' for a fight...[/color]"

The downtime was always the worst. He just had too much time to himself, and too little to spend it on. One never realized how many distractions and pleasures relied on stimulating senses until one was bereft of them. Sure, he could still get a kick out of things now and again, but by and large they were cheap thrills. Screwing with the power grid to write curse words that only the orbital satellites could see. Reprogramming the animatronics in a children's themed pizzeria to scare the shit out of the employees. That sort of thing. But distractions were all they were.

"[color=ec008c]'Cause you know the freaks come out at night...[/color]"

FL didn't lack purpose. He had decided on one, himself. It was just that it was a long ways off, and he had yet to get used to this "eternity" thing. Being dead, one would think that he would be more patient and accustomed to silence and stillness. Truth be told, he didn't have as much time to get used to it as most. Just when he was coming around to the idea, he had gotten yanked back into the bright and shiny world of people with skin. Having such unique dilemmas made FL a bit distant, as literally no one else he knew could empathize with him. But he'd get used to it in time. He'd have to.

"[color=ec008c]And I'm a freak, baby, damn right.[/color]"

However, the griffon in front of him was a relief to see. He had been waiting all freakin' night for this freaky bird to show up, and finally its fuzzy ass decided to show up. FL rolled his neck, the motors in his spine whirring quietly at he did so. Sidling up to the griffon, he reached out gently to it with his "real," plasmic arm. He focused his energy into the griffon, and attempted to reach into it. Nope, once again, he phased directly through it. No dice this time, he supposed, but that why he was going where he was going, right?

FL mounted the griffon, his gloved, mechanical hand latching onto its mane as his other held his single suitcase of luggage. The beast seemed notably disturbed by his presence, but FL really didn't care. If it wasn't used to carting around ghosts that rode around inside of robots, it could damn well hurry up and get used to it. He spurred the beast on with the heels of his leather boots, and his mount took to the air.

There, dead ahead, was their destination. The Black Gale. Some might feel trepidation at such a sight. Terror even. FL felt only purpose, as cold and steely as his metal body. He had forgotten how to feel fear a long time ago. He had forgotten how to feel a lot of things.