O-11 was lost. He left his hotel without his guide. He saw a cheesecake place just outside of his window, and couldn't resist.

He had forgotten the way the city moved endlessly. By the time he checked across the street, the cheesecakes were gone, and by the time he turned around, a new maze had grown around him.

He fumed, digging his claws across the side of his face as a form of self punishment. The scars already there showed this was not the first time, nor would it be the last.

But his dread deepened as he watched another street block shift around him, and then another.

He didn't have the time to get his bearings.

O-11 lays down.

O-11 curls up and accepts his fate.

He had succumbed to the world of clowns.
And then someone stepped on him.

O-11 looks up at the robot but tucks his head back into the crook of his arm to continue his incoming death.