The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual.
Opening theme song by Rui Nagai
THE BIG O:
ACT 29
THE NINE MUSES OF DEATH!
Chapter Two: Thalia
Roger and Dorothy looked over to a group of well-dressed people flocked around an open grave. They were middle-aged and older to a man, except for the young military police officers who were at a respectful distance.
One of the mourners was laughing uncontrollably despite his wife's attempts to shush him. Unable to catch his breath, the man staggered forward while giggling like a maniac. Gasping on his painful guffaws, he lost his footing and fell atop the coffin. Unbalanced by his weight, the casket tumbled prematurely into the open grave… taking the laughing man with it. The crowd gasped as his choking cackles emanated up from the macabre pit.
"What the devil?" Roger found himself running over to the crowd, heedless of the bodyguards who were rushing to intercept him. He burst through the crowd to stand at the edge of the grave to see the portly gray-haired man coughing up blood as he still laughed and tittered insanely.
The two military policemen who seized Roger's arms were frozen as they looked down at the ghoulish sight. Before their horrified eyes, the man gasped and heaved before finally collapsing like a marionette whose strings were cut.
"Let go of him you idiots," Colonel Dastun's rough growl ordered as he stepped out of the crowd of onlookers. "Get down there and give Fraiser Owens some medical attention!"
The two policemen released Roger Smith, but hesitated before climbing down into the grave. "I think it's too late for medical attention, Dastun," Roger said grimly. The frozen, unnatural smile on Fraiser Owens' face left little doubt of that.
"I had a feeling it would be that way," Dastun sighed before he burst into action. "Okay, the show's over! Evacuate the mourners and get their statements! Take them to the medical center so they can get checked out before another one starts laughing, and then get their statements! No, forget that! I'm going to take their statements myself! Just make a list of everybody here and make sure they get home safely. Leave a man to guard each house. Now go! Go! Go! Get moving already!"
"You got everybody jumping," Roger allowed himself an ironic smile as military policemen escorted the stunned mourners to their vehicles.
"Go ahead and laugh, wiseguy," Dastun growled. "You might die laughing."
"I'm not laughing," Roger assured him as the two military policemen who had seized him brought up Fraiser Owens. Correction: the late Fraiser Owens. There was no doubt about that now. "Fraiser Owens… He's one of the Paradigm Executives isn't he?"
"Yeah, he's in charge of all the recycling in town," Dastun told him. "At least he was," he corrected himself.
"You don't seem very surprised, Dan," the black clad negotiator observed.
"Phil Gasset was murdered," Dastun explained. "This is his funeral. Somebody used his rare book collection to squash him flat. I had a feeling he'd be the first."
"Phil Gasset, the publisher?" Roger asked. "Wasn't he in charge of Paradigm Press?"
"The same," the burly cop sighed.
"Looks like it's started," Roger muttered.
"Looks like," Dastun agreed. "We haven't had a good track record on catching assassins in the past…"
"But that's going to change right?" Roger winked.
"It better," Dastun snarled. "I'd be lying if I didn't think my name was on the list."
Since the death of Alex Rosewater and the stillbirth of the 'New Order' he had attempted to impose on Paradigm City, a vacuum had been left in the halls of power. Before his death, Alex had manipulated the rebellious organization known as the Union into eliminating his father's old supporters so he could install his own followers. Now with their leader dead and Paradigm City in ruins, the followers of the 'New Order' were scrambling to protect themselves from the citizens' retribution. They didn't trust themselves or each other, and anyone who had the slightest bit of true leadership ability was considered a threat.
Therefore, it was with the greatest sense of irony that they had installed Colonel Dan Dastun was temporary head of the military police.
When Paradigm City's official protectors had been ordered to stand down during Alex Rosewater's attack on the city, Dan Dastun had defied orders by leading an attack on Big Fau, Rosewater's giant white megadeus that had brought Paradigm City to it's knees.
No one really knew much about the megadeuses. Incredibly massive armored robots, they had so much firepower, they had been nicknamed 'the power of God wielded by man'. Although Paradigm City had seen more than its share of giant robots since the events four decades ago that destroyed the world and robbed the survivors of their memories, the most powerful and versatile had to be the true megadeuses, the Bigs.
So far there had been three Bigs that Paradigm City could remember. Big O, the black megadeus, had protected the city from gargantuan threats while piloted by the professional negotiator known as Roger Smith. Big Duo, the red megadeus, could actually fly by transforming itself into a kind of bomber plane. It had been piloted by the Union's treacherous and homicidally insane cyborg, Alan Gabriel, and before that by Swartzwald, a reporter known as Michael Seebach before falling to madness in his quest for the truth of what happened to the world before. Big Fau, the white megadeus, had been piloted by the Paradigm chairman Alex Rosewater when he tried to destroy the city to remake it in his image.
It was a classic example of foolish pride and insatiable greed. Through economic coercion, the Paradigm Corporation ruled the last remaining metropolis in the world, in effect becoming both god and state. Even the senators of the city were Paradigm board members or former executives. Even the military police received its funding from the Paradigm Corporation.
But it hadn't been enough for Alex Rosewater. Tired of living in the shadow of his father, Gordon Rosewater, the founder of Paradigm City and the Paradigm Corporation, Alex had decided to destroy the capitalistic dystopia that his father created and replace it with a world of his own creation.
Dastun was the highest-ranking member of the military police who defied orders and fired upon the white megadeus anyway. Two companies of young and idealistic military policemen followed him, and all were relieved of duty afterwards. Dastun himself was arrested for insubordination.
That was before the riots began. When the people of Paradigm City rose up against the all powerful corporation, the surviving board members did an about face and reinstated Dastun and all of his men. They knew their only hope avoid a full scale revolution was to claim that Rosewater acted on his own and to legitimize the actions of Colonel Dastun.
On paper, things looked good for the grizzled cop. He was the highest-ranking member of the military police who had no ties to Rosewater and his 'New Order'. In order to placate the populace, the Paradigm Corporation made Dastun a hero and removed the heads of the military police. Dan was the highest-ranking military police officer left and he was temporarily in charge of all of the city's military and law enforcement personnel. Unfortunately, there was always the fear that the Paradigm Corporation would see him as a threat to their power and have him eliminated. It was ironic, but Dastun was in charge of protecting the very people who might be planning to have him killed.
Now a second Paradigm executive had been murdered. It would be naïve not to make a connection between the deaths of Gasset and Owens. The struggle for power inside the halls of the Paradigm Corporation had turned deadly, but were the casualties allies or on opposing sides? Was he looking for one group of murderers or two?
In any case, it was time Dastun started debriefing the witnesses, starting with the one witness that didn't belong: Roger Smith. "What are you doing here?" the mustached cop growled. "Do you just go around looking for trouble or what?"
"Of course not, nothing of the kind," Roger purred, slipping into his reasonable 'negotiator' voice. "Dorothy and I came here to pay respects to her father," he added as he gestured to a nearby grave. "I had no idea that Phil Gasset's funeral was today until we got here."
Dastun glanced over and saw a short slim form wearing a black cape and a wide brimmed hat with a veil. Dorothy Wayneright was as still as a statue, only the wind blowing on her clothing made it clear that she was really there and not a photograph. Dastun shivered. She was a nice girl and all, but sometimes she seemed like the walking dead. "Did you see anything?"
"Only the same thing you saw," Roger shrugged. "At this stage, you know more than I do."
"What does this word mean to you, 'Clio'?" Colonel Dastun asked.
"'Clio'?" Roger repeated. "Why nothing. Nothing at all. It could be a name, or it could be a word in some foreign language. Are you sure you apprehended all those Union people?"
"I dunno," Dastun shrugged. "Maybe."
"Why did you ask?" Roger prompted.
"We found a document near Gasset's body," Dastun explained. "A scroll actually. It had a picture of some kind of mask and the word, 'Clio'. Capitalized, like it was a name."
"You think it could be the name of some megadeus?" Roger asked.
"Please, Roger, don't even joke about that!" Dastun shuddered.
"Colonel!" Lieutenant Johnson called. "We've intercepted someone trying to get into the Gasset funeral!"
"Let's talk to 'em," Dastun growled as he and Roger approached.
A young man was surrounded by military police and almost hiding behind a large standing wreath of flowers. "Look, I just work for the flower service!" he explained. "It ain't against the law to deliver flowers to a funeral, is it?"
"No, I guess it isn't," Dastun sighed before he issued an order to the rookies surrounding the deliveryman. "Take his name and contact the flower shop just in case, but I don't think this has anything to do with the murder."
"Don't be too sure about that, Dastun!" Roger exclaimed. "Look!"
Attached to the wreath was a large Comedy mask used in ancient Greek theatre. Below it a banner proudly read, 'Thalia'.
"Since when is a Comedy mask delivered to a funeral?" Roger asked.
"I don't know Roger," Dastun replied, "but you can bet money I'm going to find out!"
"What is going on, Roger?" Dorothy asked him when he returned to the grave of Timothy Wayneright. She turned her head to look at the wheeled stretcher taking away the body of the late Fraiser Owens.
"It's not our problem, Dorothy, it's Dastun's," Roger snapped as he maneuvered his body to block her view of the stretcher party. To best of his recollection, this was third time she was forced to watch someone get murdered right before her eyes. The first time it was her own father. The second time it was Roscoe Fitzgerald, an android who appeared perfectly human to the naked eye. Now Fraiser Owens. He could only hope that the crowd of people had shielded her from having to see yet a third homicide in one year. "I hope you had time to make peace with your father." He was curt as he ushered her back to the parking lot. "If we hurry, we can still make our reservation at Rosterman's."
"Roger, did somebody die?" the android asked as she folded her cloak and place it in the trunk of Roger's car.
"Of course, Dorothy," he joked grimly as he removed her hat and placed it in the trunk. "That's why there was a funeral." He closed the trunk with a loud 'thunk' and marched to the driver's door.
"No, I mean did somebody die at the funeral?" she clarified when she got into the passenger seat and shut her door.
"Why yes, Dorothy, I'm afraid so," he said as he started the car. There was still a chance they could escape the parking lot before they were detained by the military police. Although Dastun gave them verbal permission to leave the area he doubted that the word had been passed down to every cop canvassing the area.
"What caused it?" she asked as the Griffin lunged forward.
"Heart attack," he lied as he nearly ran over a military police man who was waving at him to stop.
"You are not a very good liar, Roger Smith," she scolded.
"Sure I am, just not with you," he muttered. He was irked that the murder had happened today of all days, right in front of Dorothy. He wanted this to be a special day. He was also miffed that his 'sometimes it pays to wear black', lesson was completely overshadowed by the grisly event at the graveyard. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he was worried.
It was true that the Paradigm executives had been a part of Alex Rosewater's 'New Order'. They had to be. The old guard had been eliminated. So who cares if they start bumping each other off to see who becomes top dog?
The problem was that the winner of such a power struggle would be the most ambitious, clever, and ruthless one left. Such a man would be dangerous, and no doubt determined to make his mark on the city the same way Alex Rosewater tried to. In the meantime, the chaos caused by the silent war was exactly what the city didn't need right now. The mess rolls downhill, and by the time it gets to the little guy it becomes an avalanche. He had ignored a conspiracy like this in the past and it had cost the city big time. Could Paradigm City survive if he ignored this one?
"Roger…" Dorothy's voice brought him out of his thoughts.
"I'm sorry, Dorothy," the dapper negotiator shrugged. "I guess I'm upset that incident in the cemetery overshadowed our special day. You know in the future we could celebrate they day we met by having you wear any color you want. The next day we could visit Timothy Wayneright's grave and you can go back to wearing black. It could be our yearly ritual. You deserve one day out of the year to wear anything you want to."
"How kind Roger." Despite her level monotone, her cold sarcasm was evident. "You offer me one day out of the year that I don't have to wear black. You're a louse, Roger Smith, and your sense of fashion stinks."
"Hey rules are rules, Dorothy," Roger protested good-naturedly. "I'm trying to compromise here. I don't think I deserve to be called a louse just because I'm trying to be nice."
"It has been one year since I first called you a louse," Dorothy explained before she turned her head to face Roger. "And it has been one year since I first pointed out your terrible taste in clothing. It can be our yearly ritual," she dryly teased. Was it his imagination or was she almost smiling?
After threading their way through construction, clogged streets and back roads they finally made it to Rosterman's, one of the most expensive restaurants left in Paradigm City. The dome that once provided an artificial sunny sky was cracked open, letting real sunlight trickle in for a change.
Roger didn't like handing the keys to the Griffon to the parking attendant, but put on a brave face for Dorothy's benefit. That car was worth a fortune, and had enough gadgets and weaponry installed in it to arm a battalion. Then there was the security issue. What if someone decided to sabotage his car? Plant a listening or tracking device? Put a bomb in it? And of course, there was always the simple fact that Roger felt possessive and didn't want anybody beside himself driving his car.
As the parking attendant disappeared with his car, Roger gallantly offered his arm to Dorothy Wayneright. She looked simply darling in her glossy green dress and opera gloves that perfectly matched the barrette placed over her auburn bangs. Even the white corsage that shyly concealed her décolletage had greenery in it. Roger had to admit that he looked good in a tuxedo, even though it really wasn't that different than his normal attire of black slacks, white shirt, black tie, and black polo jacket.
As he escorted her inside, Roger couldn't help but see throngs of Paradigm City's less fortunate milling about. These days the poor crowded the streets along with the rich and respectable, even inside the domes. How many of them used to be part of the rich and respectable before Big Fau's attack on the city? How many had been left homeless after Rosewater's attempt to destroy the city his father had built? How many used to live inside the domes away from the riffraff and recently had been forced to join the very poor they used to hide from?
Roger shook his head as he walked inside. Despite the death, decay and destruction that haunted Paradigm City like an unshakable specter, he was determined to make the anniversary of his and Dorothy's meeting both memorable and enjoyable for the beautiful android.
That was why he didn't notice a shadowy figure in a tattered trench coat separate himself from the crowd to glower at the back of the dapper young negotiator and his lovely mechanical companion. He didn't see the man shake his fist and spit in their general direction and whisper. "That's right, Negotiator, enjoy yourself while you can!"
On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:
Next: Euterpe