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

Chapter Four: Lady in Distress

Soon Roger found himself at the workingman's bar known as the Speakeasy but he wasn't asking the bearded old man he called 'Big Ear' for information. He was using him as a sounding board. He wasn't just drinking beer either, he was having bourbon. Nothing like a little liquid courage, and it didn't matter how much the booze loosened his tongue because he obviously couldn't control it, anyway!

"How could I be so stupid?" he asked Big Ear as he set his empty shot glass on the table with a loud 'thwack.' "What made me say that? 'The girl I love?' Why didn't I say 'someone I care about?' Where did 'the girl I love' come from?"

"I don't know Roger," the old man laughed into his newspaper. "Do you love her?"

"Of course!" Roger moaned. "She's like a sister to me! But that doesn't mean that I'm in love with her, does it?

"I don't know," the greybeard chuckled. "Does it?"

Roger pointed an accusing finger at the old man. "You know, you are enjoying this way too much!"

"Perhaps you're enjoying this too little," Big Ear suggested.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"A lot of men would consider having a beautiful robot housemaid that's so devoted to you a godsend," the old man shrugged. "Heck, some fellows here would be mighty envious right now."

"Yeah, a lot of dirty old men!" Roger sneered. "I'm not so old that I need something off the wall to get me going just yet. Unlike some of us in the room!"

The old man laughed and signaled the bartender. "Roger what you're feeling is perfectly natural," Big Ear assured him. "After what Jenny Grant did to you you're feeling vulnerable. It's only natural you'd turn to someone that you can trust absolutely."

"What are you talking about?" Roger protested. "Dorothy's an android! If anybody messes with her head she could be the end me like that!" He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "She's tried to kill me twice, and that's not including when her twin sister Red Destiny shot me!"

"And if nobody messes with her head she will never betray you," the old man rumbled as the bartender refilled their drinks. "She's an android Roger. Her loyalties aren't as fickle as a human's. I'll wager that she'll always be loyal and true. Besides you've been in combat with her. I don't need to tell you that when you've been in combat with someone, you get closer to them than you get to your own wife. Now if it was possible for that someone to actually become your wife just imagine how close the two of you could get…"

"Nobody's getting married!" Roger snarled. "Hey! What are you laughing for? What's so funny?"

"I just find it ironic that out of all the women you've known, it's the one that's made of metal that's got you worked up like this," the old man smiled.

"She's not a woman, she's just a girl!" Roger insisted. "I don't know how long she's been active, but she can't have existed for more than two years."

"How do you know?" Big Ear shrugged. "For all you know she could have existed since before the Event that took our memories."

"I dunno," Roger snorted. "She seems awfully young to me. If she was older than she looked why would she ask me so many questions about emotions and what it's like to fall in love?"

"Perhaps she just wants to see if you know," the old man smirked. "You can be kind of a cold fish sometimes. Perhaps she's asking questions to teach you what the softer emotions can offer you."

"Why did I even come here?" Roger shook his head. "In your dictionary, the word 'sympathy' must fall between 'slime' and 'syphilis!'"

"Sometimes it helps to vent," Big Ear shrugged. "I'm just playing devil's advocate."

"What am I going to do?" Roger moaned. "If I turn her down it will crush her, and if I take advantage it could destroy her! I can't do that! She's just a girl!"

"Why are you making such a big deal out of it?" the old man asked. "She's an android. As long as you keep her ignorant about human biology you shouldn't be asked to do more than hold hands."

"Yeah," Roger nodded as he drained his glass. "You're right. She's an android. What am I worrying about?"

"Unless of course you don't trust yourself," Big Ear added.

"What am I going to do?" Roger moaned as he covered his face with his hands. "I'm in a no-win situation here!"

"For starters I'd start by slowing down on the bourbon," the old man suggested. "You still have to drive home you know."

A lithe feminine form sauntered up to the table where the two men were sitting. "Hello Mister Negotiator."

"Jenny Grant!" Roger cried as he lunged out of his chair and seized her wrists. "Get away from me!"

"Roger!" the girl hissed as she struggled with him. "It's me! Angel! Have you lost your mind?"

"Angel?" He rubbed his eyes and looked at her. How much had he been drinking? How could he mistake the bodacious bombshell for Jenny Grant? Angel's body was so curvy it could give an architect a seizure, while Jenny was slender and petite like Dorothy. Even through his drunken haze he should have recognized her. "Is that you? What are you doing in that wig?"

"I'm trying to be discreet!" the beautiful young woman whispered tersely. "Keep your voice down! I think I'm being followed! Oh my gawd, how much have you been drinking?"

"Followed?" Roger muttered. "Who by?"

"How should I know?" she hissed as she pushed some stray golden locks back underneath her brunette wig. "The way I see it, I'm either being followed by agents from the Union or by Paradigm. I need your help!"

"Sure," Roger grimaced as he pressed his thumb against the space between his eyes and swayed uneasily on his feet. "My help. Got it. What can I do for you?"

"Until you sober up, probably nothing!" Angel announced in a louder voice. "Honestly Roger, what happened to you? I can't believe that I looked up to you!" She pushed him back into his chair for emphasis.

"I'm going through something," he said lamely.

"So is everybody else!"

"Yeah…"

"I'll catch you later when you're sober," Angel huffed. "I didn't want to visit you at your home because I'm afraid they're watching it. Get well soon, Roger, before something happens to me."

"Smooth," Big Ear murmured as the disguised beauty lost herself in the crowd.

"Yeah," Roger muttered. "I thought it was okay for a guy to get drunk in a bar."

"Fooled you," the old man smirked.

"Yep," Roger nodded before they burst into a fit of laughter. "Ooh I'm being silly," he gasped. "She's right. I'm no good to anybody like this. I better get home before I make a bigger idiot out of myself."

"Take care," Big Ear saluted him with his glass as the drunken negotiator staggered to his feet.

The bar was a blur as Roger made his way to the door. Why was he acting like this? Why was he being so judgmental on himself? He consoled himself by deciding that being wracked with guilt over the temptation of becoming a robopedophile was better than being haunted by visions of burning books, melting clocks, bald children and barcodes but not by much. Angel was right. Everybody in this town was going through something. Roger wasn't special. So why couldn't he handle it? He was the pilot of the black megadeus dammit!

As he activated the remote for his car he heard a commotion just a few car lengths down the street. "Get your hands off me!" a woman's voice screamed. "Help! Somebody help me!"

Could that be Angel? What had she said back in the bar? Something about being followed? She wasn't kidding! It looked like now they were making their move!

"I'm coming!" Roger called as he removed his tie before he jogged over to an alley where two men were dragging a woman out to the curb where a 1950's VW barndoor panel van was waiting with its cargo door open. It wasn't Angel, not unless she changed clothes and lost some weight. It hardly mattered because whoever she was she was still in trouble! "Hang on! Oough!"

A third guy, bigger than the other two, came out of the alley and knocked Roger to the ground. Roger rolled to his feet and saw his opponent sizing him up. He wasn't blindly attacking or telling him to stay out of this. He was looking at Roger as if he was preparing for a fight. The guy was four inches taller than Roger, bald with a neat goatee, with a bulky build that looked like it was all muscle. He raised his arms in the stance of a professional boxer and Roger did the same.

When his opponent attacked with a right handed punch, Roger blocked with his left arm, but kept his arm moving as he stepped in forward to jab at the man's eyes. This guy was a professional though, for despite the near incapacitating pain he managed he attempted a wild haymaker punch to take Roger out of the fight. Roger blocked by seizing his opponent's arm during the windup and followed up with a punch to the face, closing the distance before his foe could complete his strike. The big guy didn't go down, so Roger struck him in the chin with his left elbow and concluded by bringing his right knee up to his enemy's groin.

Incredibly, the bearded man still refused to fall down, so Roger followed with lightning fast one-two punches to the jaw, ribs, and solar plexus. He finished up by leaping into the air and kicking his foe's solar plexus causing him to sail backwards to the two hoodlums and their victim.

Roger heard a shriek as the lady and one of her kidnappers went down under the larger man's weight, but one of the crooks managed to dodge his burly cohort and lunge forward to seize Roger's throat! Roger threw his weight to his left side while bringing his right arm up and over his strangler's. While his right arm pushed his choker's arms away, Roger's left hand twisted his strangler's right hand into a lock. Roger managed to strike his choker in the face with his right elbow before he managed to kick him in the face and the groin.

Roger stepped over the prone body of the man who tried to strangle him as he dashed to the large bearded man he had struck down earlier. Dazed, the bearded boxer was trying to sit up so Roger kicked him in the face until he lay back down. The kidnapper the boxer had collided with was getting to his feet so Roger seized him by the lapels of his jacket and punched him in the face with quick repeated jabs before ending with a straight cross.

Roger gasped for breath as he released the last kidnapper to let him fall to the ground. With all the adrenaline going through his system he was almost sober! He reached down to help the woman to her feet. "Are you okay, miss?"

"Just peachy!" a familiar face smiled at him.

"Jenny Grant!" Roger jumped a step back.

"My hero!" she grinned as she sprayed a miniature aerosol can at him. "Here you go! Breathe deep handsome!"

"Ah!" Roger gasped as a pink mist billowed over his face. His eyes rolled back, he staggered and pitched forward tackling Jenny on his way down.

"Eek!" Jenny said as she was covered in Roger Smith. "Get him off me, you idiots! I can't breathe under here!"

Meaty hands seized Roger by the shoulders before pulling him into the van.

"Whew!" Jenny Grant wheezed. "Thanks boys, sorry for snapping like that! Okay, we got him. Let's get out of here!" she said as she was helped to her feet. Following the burly henchmen, she got into the van before the cargo was slid shut.

As the van drove away, the door to the Speakeasy opened and a statuesque woman wearing a dark wig stepped out to the sidewalk. "Roger?" she said as she trotted over to a long black Cadillac parked on the curb. She dashed to the driver's side and tapped on the window. "Roger? Can you… Nobody's in there!"

The woman brushed the locks of dark hair out of her eyes to reveal the lovely face of the mysterious blonde bombshell known as Angel. She looked up and down the street while her lovely features contorted in a frown. "He never parks here without activating the armor, so why does the Gryphon look like a car instead of a big black box?" she muttered to herself. "Is he so drunk that he passed out in an alley?"

She noticed the city's homeless squatting on the street so she walked over to one with a begging bowl. "Hey," she said as she brandished a ten dollar bill. "There's a sawbuck in it for you if can tell me what happened to the guy who owns that car!"

"Sure lady," the beggar said as he took the money out of her hand. "He got in a fight with some guys and then was shoved into a green van."

"Shoved into a green van?" Angel gasped. "Did you see who he was fighting with? Did you get the license number?"

"There was a woman with them," the beggar shrugged. "She sprayed something in his face and he collapsed. That was after he beat up three guys. Darndest thing I ever saw!"

"Omigod!" Angel gasped. "Roger's been kidnapped!"

Roger's world was a dense fog. "Wake up darling," Jenny's voice called.

"Unnh," Roger groaned as his eyes fluttered open. "Not so loud…"

"It's not so funny when I wake you up from your hangover, is it handsome?" Jenny said with a predatory smile.

"What?" Roger was wide awake now. "Wha?" His eyes darted up, down, left, and right. He was lying on a bed with his arms and legs spread like he was doing a jumping jack. Each wrist and ankle was tied to a separate bedpost. "Where am I? What have you done to me?"

"I've just taken you away to a place where you can relax for a while," the slender brunette assured him, "a place where you can lie down and take it easy."

"Get me out of this! You let me go right now!" Roger stopped shouting and sucked in a breath while studying Jenny Grant. She was in a green button down blouse with sleeves but both it and her knee high dress were obscured by the frilly cooking apron she was wearing. He glanced behind her to notice pictures arranged on a desk, pictures of the two of them together. His expression went from anger to cold naked fear. "I swear I'll never drink again," he whispered.

"Like them?" Jenny sauntered over to the desk and picked up a photo. "Here's our wedding picture. It will have to do until we get a real one taken."

"That's not our picture!" Roger protested. "That's somebody else's wedding picture with our heads placed on other people's bodies!"

"Didn't you hear me say that it will have to do until we get a real one taken?" she shook her head. "You're such a bad listener. Look, they did a real good job too. It really looks like we're really there, doesn't it? They even managed to touch up the shadows." She set the picture back on the desk and picked up another one and went back to the bed. "What do you think of this one?"

"That's not you!" Roger shuddered. "That picture was taken when Dorothy and I went to Rosterman's to celebrate our anniversary. One of those photographers took a candid picture of us and offered to sell it to us! You just pasted your head over Dorothy's to take her place!"

"Roger darling, that really hurts," the deranged woman scolded. "Look how much trouble I went through to fit seamlessly into the picture. I had to get my picture taken while wearing something with the same neckline in order to make it work." She examined the photo and smiled. "I'm really proud of this one. It really looks like I'm there. Your little friend and I have the same general build and coloring. It really looks like me! Doesn't it?"

"Let me go," Roger ordered. "I'm not playing this game, Jenny! I—"

His demand was cut short when Jenny Grant slapped his face. She seized his chin and held the picture less than a foot from his face. "I said 'It really looks like me! Doesn't it?'"

Roger's eyes bulged as the color drained from his face. "Uh… yeah Jenny!" he nodded. "It really looks like you!"

"Thanks, I'm rather proud of this one," she smiled at the picture again before placing it back on the desk. "I had some others made, but they really didn't come out right. One makes it look like our necks are broken. These are the two I'm proud of. They sure look real, don't they?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "They look real. Jenny? What do you want?"

Jenny turned back to him in melodramatic innocence. "What do I want?" she asked in mock surprise. "I should think that should be obvious, Roger! I want what every woman wants! A good man, a nice home, beautiful children and the secret to eternal youth! What woman wouldn't want those things?"

"Secret to eternal youth?" Roger repeated. "I don't have that!"

"Yes you do; in those nanobots, those little robots that repair your cells," she said condescendingly. "You remember. I discovered those little guys the last time you were my guest."

"You're crazy!"

"I'm not crazy! I've been tested!" she snarled. "Don't call me crazy! Don't ever call me crazy! That drives me crazy! You're just like my brother!" she growled as she pointed an accusing finger at her captive. "Always stealing my things and wearing my clothes!" She stopped her rant, suddenly self-conscious. "I'm sorry what were we talking about?"

"Did you just say that the late Eugene Grant wore your clothes?"

"No," she shook her head guiltily. "I didn't."

"That's right," a horrified Roger agreed. "You didn't."

"Family," she giggled nervously. "What are you going to do? Nobody can push your buttons like they can, huh? He always used to tell me I was crazy when he was the one who was the kook. Funny how family can always get to you, huh?"

"Yeah," Roger nodded. "Hilarious."

"That's right, hilarious." Somehow her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Well I'm out of the mood right now Roger dear, so I guess I better get back to work. But don't worry." She pointed to a camera that was placed on a tripod in the corner of the room. "I've got a camera on you so I can keep an eye on you in case you need me. I've got a microphone hidden in here too, so if you need anything just call. I'll be back this evening so we can get to know each other better then." She pulled a tiny aerosol can the size of a tube of lipstick out of her apron pocket and sprayed him in the face with it. "In the meantime, it's time for your nap. Breathe deeply handsome. Nighty-night."

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

Next: Thank You for Volunteering