Greetings, true believers! To those of you who read the previous
(unfinished) Big O fic that I had posted here, I chose to remove it to
retool the initial concept I had come up with for it. The result is what
you now have before you. As always, Big O and its characters do not belong
to me, neither do the song lyrics used in this fic. Any original
characters, however, are mine, so there! Read on and enjoy!
ENTER DAMIAN PART 1
"If looks could kill
You'd be lying on the floor
You'd be begging me
Please, please baby don't hurt me no more!"
HEART
Angel pushed her bike faster, and faster, as fast as it could go. She pushed the gas as far as it could take her, the engine of the motorcycle growling like a tiger as she roared down the empty streets. She narrowed her eyes behind the visor of her helmet, trying hard to concentrate on the road ahead of her.
But still, the footfalls came. They fell hard and fast, faster than any normal feet could go. They were coming up close behind her, and it sent a wave of panic through her as she realized just how close they were.
"Its impossible..." she muttered to herself as she tried to go faster, "No one can move that fast...this guy isn't human!"
The sound of the feet suddenly got even faster, and an instant later her bike slammed to a stop, and it was all Angel could do to keep herself from flying over the handlebars with the momentum of the sudden halt. She pushed hard on the gas, tried to speed out of his grasp and away to freedom. But she remained frozen. She tried to stand up, to run, but a heavy hand clapped onto her shoulder and shoved her back down onto the seat.
"You know, I never did like you..." a soft, cultured sounding voice said next to her head. Cold sweat trickled down her neck as she heard the voice, but felt no breath on her skin. "Neither did Dorothy...it will come as no consequence to her then when your body is found."
He lifted the motorcycle, Angel and all, into the air, above his head, and hurled it several yards down the street. It slammed into the pavement, the sound of the crash covering Angel's screams of pain.
She clenched her teeth and struggled to free herself from the wreck of her vehicle. She groaned through the pain that tore up and down her body, and tried to drag herself out from under her bike. But her leg was caught, and she was pinned, immobile. She heard his footfalls again, much softer this time, coming up to her. She found herself suddenly freed as the bike was lifted up off her, and she tried desperately to scramble as far as she could. But all hope was crushed out of her, as her body itself was also nearly crushed when he dropped the motorcycle back down onto her.
He lifted it off her once again, and this time tossed it aside. He looked down at the remnants of Angel, her body broken. But she was still alive, though barely. She struggled painfully with each breath. Blood trickled from her mouth, from her nose, from her ears, and there were several small, but quickly growing stains under her clothes.
He picked her up in his infinitely powerful arms, held her ruined body high over his head, and then threw her through the glass window of a flower shop on the street next to them. The store's security alarm blared loudly, but he did not want her found just that easily. He reached in through the shattered glass and retrieved her a second time. He dragged her along the pavement, gripping her by her hair. He tossed her body into a dumpster, like a sack of waste, and slammed the cover shut. She was left, suffering in darkness...
The music seared in his ears like white-hot pokers. He tried to ignore it at first. Then he struggled to pretend he did not hear it. He scrunched himself up into a ball, as if the tightening of each muscle in his body would somehow fortify him against the tortured sounds that were plaguing him. He gripped hard into his pillow, almost as if to rip through the soft silk and shred the cotton laying underneath. Finally, he could take it no more.
Roger Smith, the top negotiator of Paradigm City, a city without memories, threw the door of his bedroom open. He narrowed his eyes with searing irritation. The object of his revulsion sat, across the room, banging away on the keys of the piano. She did not even turn her head to acknowledge him, ignoring him completely. She continued to ignore him until he stood right alongside her. She finished her song, closed the lid over the piano keys, and finally acknowledged his presence.
"Good morning Roger."
"Dorothy, for God's sake" Roger groaned as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair, "Would it kill you to let me sleep just once?"
"This is a tradition, Roger. To break it would be wrong. Don't be such a louse."
Roger glowered at her and the piano, and strongly considered at that moment the benefits of taking an axe to that grand instrument. He let the argument pass, not wanting to embitter his mood any further. Norman had a late breakfast, actually more like an early lunch, well prepared for him, and he savored each bite. He then set about his usual ritual of showering and dressing with gusto. As he adjusted his tie in front of the mirror, he could not help but feel a brief streak of vanity. He wondered how it was that Paradigm City was fortunate enough to have a negotiator who was as talented, not to mention handsome, as he.
He took the elevator down to his office. He walked over this desk and turned over some of his hourglasses for sheer amusement. He then checked his appointments, and found that he had none scheduled for this day. Evidently Paradigm was currently in a state of peace, and no negotiating was needed. Not that it bothered him, it was a welcome reprieve from the seemingly weekly attacks on the city by monstrous machines and foreign menaces.
"Roger, telephone" Dorothy called from the stairwell. Roger sighed, hoping that it would not be something too urgent. He climbed the stairs and took the phone from the tray Dorothy had brought it to him on. He held it to the side of his face.
"This is Roger Smith, hello?" He waited a moment for an answer, but instead he heard the sound of very raspy, labored breathing. After a moment of that horrible noise, a weak and painful sounding, but familiar voice came to his ears.
"Roger...I...I need you...please..."
"Angel!" Roger shouted when he recognized the voice. The pain he heard in her frightened him. "Angel, I'm on my way, where are you?" After listening to her agonized voice a few moments longer, he hurried on his way, not even bothering to place the phone back its receiver, instead letting it drop and dangle from its chord. He rushed so fast that he did not even notice the slight look of disdain on Dorothy's face.
ENTER DAMIAN PART 1
"If looks could kill
You'd be lying on the floor
You'd be begging me
Please, please baby don't hurt me no more!"
HEART
Angel pushed her bike faster, and faster, as fast as it could go. She pushed the gas as far as it could take her, the engine of the motorcycle growling like a tiger as she roared down the empty streets. She narrowed her eyes behind the visor of her helmet, trying hard to concentrate on the road ahead of her.
But still, the footfalls came. They fell hard and fast, faster than any normal feet could go. They were coming up close behind her, and it sent a wave of panic through her as she realized just how close they were.
"Its impossible..." she muttered to herself as she tried to go faster, "No one can move that fast...this guy isn't human!"
The sound of the feet suddenly got even faster, and an instant later her bike slammed to a stop, and it was all Angel could do to keep herself from flying over the handlebars with the momentum of the sudden halt. She pushed hard on the gas, tried to speed out of his grasp and away to freedom. But she remained frozen. She tried to stand up, to run, but a heavy hand clapped onto her shoulder and shoved her back down onto the seat.
"You know, I never did like you..." a soft, cultured sounding voice said next to her head. Cold sweat trickled down her neck as she heard the voice, but felt no breath on her skin. "Neither did Dorothy...it will come as no consequence to her then when your body is found."
He lifted the motorcycle, Angel and all, into the air, above his head, and hurled it several yards down the street. It slammed into the pavement, the sound of the crash covering Angel's screams of pain.
She clenched her teeth and struggled to free herself from the wreck of her vehicle. She groaned through the pain that tore up and down her body, and tried to drag herself out from under her bike. But her leg was caught, and she was pinned, immobile. She heard his footfalls again, much softer this time, coming up to her. She found herself suddenly freed as the bike was lifted up off her, and she tried desperately to scramble as far as she could. But all hope was crushed out of her, as her body itself was also nearly crushed when he dropped the motorcycle back down onto her.
He lifted it off her once again, and this time tossed it aside. He looked down at the remnants of Angel, her body broken. But she was still alive, though barely. She struggled painfully with each breath. Blood trickled from her mouth, from her nose, from her ears, and there were several small, but quickly growing stains under her clothes.
He picked her up in his infinitely powerful arms, held her ruined body high over his head, and then threw her through the glass window of a flower shop on the street next to them. The store's security alarm blared loudly, but he did not want her found just that easily. He reached in through the shattered glass and retrieved her a second time. He dragged her along the pavement, gripping her by her hair. He tossed her body into a dumpster, like a sack of waste, and slammed the cover shut. She was left, suffering in darkness...
The music seared in his ears like white-hot pokers. He tried to ignore it at first. Then he struggled to pretend he did not hear it. He scrunched himself up into a ball, as if the tightening of each muscle in his body would somehow fortify him against the tortured sounds that were plaguing him. He gripped hard into his pillow, almost as if to rip through the soft silk and shred the cotton laying underneath. Finally, he could take it no more.
Roger Smith, the top negotiator of Paradigm City, a city without memories, threw the door of his bedroom open. He narrowed his eyes with searing irritation. The object of his revulsion sat, across the room, banging away on the keys of the piano. She did not even turn her head to acknowledge him, ignoring him completely. She continued to ignore him until he stood right alongside her. She finished her song, closed the lid over the piano keys, and finally acknowledged his presence.
"Good morning Roger."
"Dorothy, for God's sake" Roger groaned as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair, "Would it kill you to let me sleep just once?"
"This is a tradition, Roger. To break it would be wrong. Don't be such a louse."
Roger glowered at her and the piano, and strongly considered at that moment the benefits of taking an axe to that grand instrument. He let the argument pass, not wanting to embitter his mood any further. Norman had a late breakfast, actually more like an early lunch, well prepared for him, and he savored each bite. He then set about his usual ritual of showering and dressing with gusto. As he adjusted his tie in front of the mirror, he could not help but feel a brief streak of vanity. He wondered how it was that Paradigm City was fortunate enough to have a negotiator who was as talented, not to mention handsome, as he.
He took the elevator down to his office. He walked over this desk and turned over some of his hourglasses for sheer amusement. He then checked his appointments, and found that he had none scheduled for this day. Evidently Paradigm was currently in a state of peace, and no negotiating was needed. Not that it bothered him, it was a welcome reprieve from the seemingly weekly attacks on the city by monstrous machines and foreign menaces.
"Roger, telephone" Dorothy called from the stairwell. Roger sighed, hoping that it would not be something too urgent. He climbed the stairs and took the phone from the tray Dorothy had brought it to him on. He held it to the side of his face.
"This is Roger Smith, hello?" He waited a moment for an answer, but instead he heard the sound of very raspy, labored breathing. After a moment of that horrible noise, a weak and painful sounding, but familiar voice came to his ears.
"Roger...I...I need you...please..."
"Angel!" Roger shouted when he recognized the voice. The pain he heard in her frightened him. "Angel, I'm on my way, where are you?" After listening to her agonized voice a few moments longer, he hurried on his way, not even bothering to place the phone back its receiver, instead letting it drop and dangle from its chord. He rushed so fast that he did not even notice the slight look of disdain on Dorothy's face.