The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network.

THE BIG O:

ACT 34

OUR LITTLE GIRL HAS GROWN UP

Big-O!

Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!

Big-O!

Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!

Cast in the name of God!

Negotiator

Ye not the guilty!

Android

We have come to terms!

Butler

Big-O!

Officer

Big-O!

Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!

Big-O!

Big-O! Big-O! -O! -O! Big-O!

Chapter One: Lesson One

This is Paradigm City. Forty years ago we lost our past, but that doesn't mean we can't dream and make plans for the future.

In the heart of the city, outside of the titanic geodesic domes that protected the neighborhoods and estates of the rich stood a spacious tower that was formerly a bank before the disaster that left Paradigm City without memories. It was built over the nexus of the underground transportation system that the metropolis had enjoyed until four decades ago. The suites at the top floor were decorated like a Victorian mansion; the roof was a patio that had tasteful sculpture and a garden.

Encircling the rooftop patio was a one and a half foot wide wall that was slightly over three feet tall. This wall separated the roof from the dizzying drop to the street below, and standing on this wall was a slender teenage girl. The petite teenager was dressed in a reddish black dress that had a white ruffled collar and formal white cuffs. A set of black stockings and shiny black shoes completed her ensemble. Her red pageboy haircut was immaculate, her bangs broken by a black barrette. Her skin was alabaster white, her features were dainty and her dark violet eyes were mysterious as they gazed over the city.

"R. Dorothy Wayneright, what have I told you about standing up there?" a man's voice playfully scolded. As the girl turned the quiet whirring of an electronic motor could be heard. Standing behind her was a tall man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties. His broad shoulders and trim waist indicated both strength and agility. His jet-black hair, strong jaw and high cheekbones on his boyish face made him the definition of 'tall, dark, and handsome'. He was clad in a black suit consisting of black double-breasted jacket, matching trousers, shoes and gloves. His shirt was crisp and white and his black tie was bisected by a gray stripe. He was beaming at her as the sun shone off his raven black hair.

"I assure you I'm perfectly safe," she said in a calm voice. "My sense of balance is better than a human's and I'm perfectly aware of my surroundings."

"Let's see what makes it so special," he said as he climbed onto the wall to stand beside her. He looked down. "Well, aside of a touch of vertigo I don't see what the appeal is. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were just trying to get attention."

"Nonsense Roger," she replied. "I've been standing on the ledge for over a year and you haven't been showing me any attention."

"I'm thinking maybe that should change," he said as he sat down on the wall with his long legs dangling over the safe side. "Since you got into my head you know how I really feel about you. I don't have any secrets anymore."

"I disagree," the girl said as she sat on the wall next to him. "I'm sure you have many secrets I'd be interested in."

"You have secrets of your own," Roger smiled knowingly. "I'm not falling for your 'emotionless android' act anymore. You're actually quite passionate aren't you? Deep beneath all that ice the fire burns pretty hot doesn't it?"

"Not that you'd ever know," she teased in her calm voice. "For someone who runs headfirst into danger you play it safe when it comes to affairs of the heart."

"Maybe playing it safe is holding me back," Roger nodded. "If there's one thing I've learned the hard way, it's that I'm not going to get anywhere playing it safe or looking the other way. From now on I'm going to explore and question. And speaking of questions, why do you stand up there anyway?"

"If you must know when the wind blows up my skirt it's quite stimulating," she said matter-of-factly.

"I can think of another way to stimulate you," Roger winked.

"Do tell," Dorothy tilted her head slightly as she leaned close to him. "I'm waiting."

Roger leaned in and softly caressed her lips with his. His hand rose to gently brush his fingertips across her shoulder, up the nape of her neck and across her jawline just below her ear. Dorothy responded as her mouth searched hungrily for him but he kept backing up, teasing her until he had led her off the wall back onto the safety of the rooftop patio.

When their feet touched the roof he rewarded her by embracing her and leaning in as their lips and tongues explored each other. Roger could hear strains of violin music that was somehow managing to be both passionate and gentle as it filled the air with an energy that cannot be described, only enjoyed.

No. The music wasn't like that at all. It was an obnoxious cacophony of piano music that managed to be both somber and impudent, smashing through that magical moment like a rock through a pane of glass. Roger opened his eyes to find himself lying in bed; his only company a darkened room with the shades pulled down to shut out the morning sunlight.

"R DOROTHY WAYNERIGHT!"

If his bellow was heard by the girl in the parlor, she didn't show it. She just kept playing the piano with a wild abandon that somehow didn't reach her face. R Dorothy Wayneright was dressed exactly like she did in his dreams, right down to the black barrette in her hair. "Good morning Roger," she said evenly as the door burst open to reveal an angry young man in black pajamas. "I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, for the first time in weeks!" he snarled. "For an entire month I've had nothing but nightmares, and now when I finally have a good dream you have to go and ruin it for me! I know you're an android Dorothy, but how can you be so heartless?"

Dorothy stopped playing. "You had a good dream this time? Was I in it?"

Roger's eyes bulged guiltily as he held his breath. "Er uh… no, of course not. It had nothing to do with you."

"Really?" Her emotionless voice was good for conveying skepticism. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely," he nodded as he looked away.

"Then why are you blushing?" she asked.

Roger gave an angry frown and trudged out of the room. He made a grunting noise that sounded vaguely like "shut up" as he passed the piano.

From a certain angle, the neutral expression on Dorothy's face looked like a smile.

This city is a city without Memory. One day, forty years ago, everyone human or robot lost all knowledge of what had happened before. The denizens of the city just try to go on with their lives and prove that civilization can exist without a past. In order to survive, the citizens of Paradigm City have learned to stop worrying about what they've lost and take steps necessary to protect what they have.

Even though it meant more maintenance time later Dorothy still made it a habit to savor a cup of tea in order to participate in Roger's morning meal. As Roger's butler had once pointed out, sitting at the table with Roger meant that she was a guest and not a servant. She was considered part of the family and not part of the staff.

"You've changed your pajamas," she said as she sipped her tea.

Roger smirked as he glanced down at his clothes. He had changed out of his sleepwear into the uniform traditionally used for unarmed martial arts training. If memory served him the outfit was called a gi by the employees of Yoshifuda Yakamoto Industries in the West Dome. The loose jacket and pants were bound by a sash at the waist that served as a belt. Although the gi was traditionally white, in Roger's house it was black. It was understandable that young Dorothy would mistake the outfit for a sturdy pair of pajamas.

"That's because today I'm training you in unarmed combat," Roger smiled. "It's ridiculous that an android who can knock a door out of its hinges gets kidnapped as often as you do and I think that teaching you a few basic moves could make a difference. After breakfast dress appropriately and meet me in the gym."

Dorothy set down her teacup and looked at him. "You want me to dress like you?"

"Yes."

Her flat tone was good for expressing disgust. "You are such a louse, Roger Smith."

"What brought this on?" he protested good-naturedly. "I'm not saying you can't take care of yourself, but I worry about you. With a few basic moves you should be able to take on all comers. What's the big deal?"

"I refuse to dress so inappropriately just so you can humiliate me, Roger Smith." She was calling him by his first and last name. That was Dorothy's way of raising her voice. "This is a level I didn't know you could sink to."

"Dorothy you aren't going to get out of this by insulting my fashion sense," Roger growled. "I didn't mind you voicing your opinion before because it let me know that there's a person in there, but this time I'm putting my foot down. I'm going to train you and you're going to wear an outfit like I'm wearing. There's no point damaging any clothing you'll want to wear in public. After breakfast, I expect you to be in the practice room on the third floor, dressed like I tell you, and wearing black! Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear Roger," she said as she rose from the table. "If you are so adamant, I better go change. If you'll excuse me." With that, she walked off without another word.

Roger sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as the android girl left. "Norman?" he asked the man standing quietly behind his chair. "What happened just now? What did I say this time?"

Norman Burg, his valet and butler, was a tall gangly old man dressed in an archaic tuxedo. Although his thinning white hair didn't cover his balding pate, he did sport an impressive handlebar moustache. Norman had turned to watch Dorothy go and from his right side Roger couldn't see the black eyepatch that covered the elderly butler's left eyesocket. "I'm afraid I'm not sure, Master Roger," he said in an apologetic tone. "Normally when you say something inappropriate it's quite obvious but I have no clue of what caused Miss Dorothy's bad temper this time. I was under the impression that she had already agreed to be trained in self-defense. Most puzzling."

"Yeah," Roger grunted as he tried to figure out what started the argument. What was the matter with her? Had he embarrassed her somehow? It couldn't just be that she didn't want to wear a karate uniform. There had to be something else going on. Was she bothered by the close physical contact the lesson promised? He didn't think she should be intimidated by him physically. She was stronger than he was for crying out loud.

Could it be that she was shy about grappling with him because she was a girl? Or did it bother her that Roger wasn't shy about grappling with her because he wasn't thinking of her as a girl? Or was she afraid that the lesson would highlight the fact that she wasn't a flesh and blood girl at all, that under her egg white skin was a metal skeleton? Dorothy was a complex person all right, so complex that it was hard to believe that she wasn't a human girl. In Roger's experience, human girls were complex by definition.

When he entered the practice room he discovered the reason for Dorothy's discomfort. The girl was standing on the practice mat wearing nothing but a silky black slip that clung precariously to her body by a pair of fragile spaghetti straps. To say that she looked vulnerable and undressed would be an understatement.

"Dorothy!" he sputtered. "What the devil are you wearing?"

"I'm wearing what you told me to wear," Dorothy said. "You ordered me to come here clad in nothing but black sleepwear. This is the only black sleepwear I own."

"Oh! Dorothy!" he groaned before he burst out laughing. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean that at all. You thought I wanted you in this? No wonder you were so upset at breakfast! What must you think of me?"

"I fail to see the humor Roger Smith."

"I'm sorry; I guess I'm just blowing off steam," Roger chuckled. He sobered before looking at her expressionless face and doubling over with laughter.

"May I go?" Dorothy asked quietly.

Roger coughed awkwardly into his fist. He looked at her again. She looked so small and fragile, so exposed. Her slip was so short that it didn't even cover her thighs. He shuddered when he realized what her misunderstanding implied. Did Dorothy really think he would order her to spar with him wearing only a revealing undergarment? What kind of monster did she think he was?

"Sorry Dorothy," he muttered. "You're right of course. There's nothing funny about this at all. I assure you, I'd never order you to do something like this against your free will. I—"

"You just did," she said.

"No! No, I didn't," he insisted as he shook his head. "Quite frankly, I'm insulted that you would even think I would do something like that. Since you've moved in here, I've been a perfect gentleman when it comes to…"

"I wouldn't say 'perfect,'" she interrupted.

"I would never take advantage of an underage girl like that! You kn—"

"How would you take advantage then?"

"I wouldn't take advantage of any woman who didn't want me to!" he shouted before clearing his throat and continuing normally. "Honestly Dorothy, don't you trust me at all? How could you think that I'd do something like this?"

"You haven't been yourself lately," Dorothy offered. "I can only speculate on what must be going through your mind."

"That's rich, coming from you," he snorted. "You're about as easy to read as braille through gloves! Honestly Dorothy, if you don't let us in, you won't be able to communicate with anyone! If I had the slightest inkling that this is what you thought I would have…"

"Don't worry about it," Dorothy said. That was her special code for 'You've hurt my feelings, but I don't want to talk about it; please stop while I still have a shred of dignity.' Sometimes hearing her say, 'Don't worry about it' hurt worse than 'You're a louse, Roger Smith.'

Unfortunately, Roger wasn't finished. He still had to vent before he could let it go. "There you are again!" he nagged. "You're shutting me out! How can I help you if you won't let me in? How can anybody help if you won't let them understand you?"

"I believe we have a lesson in unarmed combat waiting for us," she insisted.

"In that?" Roger's eyes bulged in disbelief as he gestured at Dorothy's revealing garment. "That flimsy thing couldn't take the punishment! You'll be naked before… er uh… Well I guess I could teach you a few deep breathing exercises. The first thing you have to learn is how to control your breathing. It's vital that you don't forget to breathe in the middle of a fight or else you'll get lightheaded…" His voice trailed off when he saw Dorothy raise her eyebrows politely. "That's right; you don't have to breathe," he cleared his throat noisily.

"I suppose I should take it a compliment," Dorothy said. "Now I know why you continuously remind me that I'm an android. Otherwise you can't keep track yourself can you Roger?"

"Take that off!" he growled as he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I can't think straight with you dressed like that!"

"Right here?"

"You know what I mean!" he snapped as he crossed his arms and looked at the mat. He could see Dorothy's bare feet as she walked past him towards the door. He couldn't remember ever getting such a good look at her bare feet before. Her creator must have been a foot fetishist because Dorothy's dainty feet made her seem naked more than the revealing slip did. "Come back here in a karate suit! Ask Norman to get you one! Come to think of it, why didn't Norman get one out for you? Norman!" he called, well bellowed is probably a better word for it.

The elderly butler appeared at the door just seconds after Dorothy disappeared through it. "Yes sir?"

"Why wasn't Dorothy issued a karate suit?" Roger demanded. "She just left here wearing sleepwear for her honeymoon!"

"Miss Dorothy's getting married Master Roger?" Norman asked brightly. "Are you the groom? I suppose congratulations are in order."

"No she isn't getting married!"

"That's such a shame sir," the butler sighed. "She really is a good catch."

"Norman…" Roger growled in a warning tone. "Get her a karate suit. Now."

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

Next: The Call from the Past