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

THE BIG O:

ACT 27

ROGER THE VIGILANTE

Chapter Five: Have a Drink

Roger Smith sat a worktable, using a set of specialized tools to tinker with a small device. A collection of weapons and gadgets in various stages of assembly was on the table before him. He looked up from his work as Norman entered the room and cleared his throat.

"Master Roger, you have a visitor," Norman announced quietly.

"Tell them I'm busy," he replied. "You know that rule I have about letting in beautiful women? It's suspended. Don't let anyone in unless it's Angel, Jason Beck, or Colonel Dastun." Or Gordon Rosewater, he thought silently, but the chances of a Rosewater entering the mansion were equal to the likelihood of Jason Beck having a change of heart and dedicating his life to fighting crime.

Norman's grim visage softened with relief. "Oh, that is a stroke of luck Master Roger. The visitor is indeed Colonel Dastun."

"What?" Roger hadn't expected any visitor that he would be interested in seeing. Still, he had to admit that out of those he mentioned, Dan Dastun was the person most likely to drop by.

As usual, the burly cop was examining Roger's wine collection in the parlor. "This is the good stuff," Dastun said without turning around as Roger entered. "What's the occasion?"

"The bottles I normally keep there were shattered during the attack on my house," Roger retorted.

Dastun drew in a breath. The furniture smelled of mothballs and wood varnish. Had the negotiator been keeping copies of his furnishings in storage for such an emergency? The cop wouldn't put it past him. Still, it wasn't important.

"So, to what do I owe the honor of being visited by the military police?" Roger asked with a hint of sarcasm. "Coming to warn me of something or are you looking for a lead?"

Dastun turned around and removed his hat, exposing his bald head and the intricate network of scars on his dome. "Neither," the muttonchopped officer replied. "I'm here to hire you. I need the services of Paradigm City's top negotiator."

While Dastun's earlier gasp was silent, Roger's was clearly audible. Dan Dastun allowed himself a small smile. Whatever Roger was expecting him to say it obviously wasn't that.

"A negotiator?" Roger snarled in disbelief. "What do you need a negotiator for?"

"To keep me and my men from losing our jobs," Dastun said wearily. "Do you mind if I have a drink?"

"Help yourself," Roger shrugged. "As soon as we get this place back together you won't see that particular bottle again," he winked.

Dastun sighed in relief. Roger being able to joke was a good sign. He picked up a glass tumbler, poured himself a drink, and sat down on Roger's couch. Roger chose a chair that was placed across from it.

Asking for help wasn't one of Dastun's strengths, so he took a sip and swirled the ice in his glass before speaking. Roger, damn him, just studied him with a slightly irritated look on his face.

"I disobeyed a direct order," Dastun admitted, "and my foolhardy act of virtue motivated the knuckleheads under my command to do the same. If we're lucky, we'll lose our jobs. If not, criminal charges could be filed against us."

"You've ignored orders before…" Roger began.

"Not when the marshal of the military police gave them to me in person!" Dastun snapped. "Not when his orders came straight from the Paradigm Corporation's board of directors! I've never told the marshal to go to hell to his face before!"

Roger nodded. Dan was too honest a cop to work for a bunch of corporate muscle like the military police forever. He was surprised it had taken him this long to reach this point. He let out a breath and asked. "So what did the marshal tell you to do, anyway?"

"Do you remember that white megadeus that was tearing the city apart the other day?" Dastun asked.

"Yeah," Roger replied with false levity. "Who could forget that one?"

"Well my men and I received orders not to interfere," Dastun growled. "The marshal told me that the orders came from the top."

That was no surprise to Roger. The white megadeus was piloted by Alex Rosewater, Paradigm Corporation's chairman of the board.

"I took an armored vehicle and started firing at it," Dastun told him. "Next thing I know, my men are doing the same thing. I never knew those slackers had it in 'em…" he said wistfully, then his voice became harsh. "We didn't have a choice! The black megadeus was in trouble, and once it fell, nothing was going to stop the white one from wiping out everyone who wasn't part of this 'new order'! I had to do something, no matter how futile!" Dastun crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch smugly. "It turns out that it wasn't as futile as I thought. Somehow, the black megadeus was able to turn things around. It just needed a distraction to buy it some time. I figure that whoever was piloting that thing owes me one."

Roger was already aware that Dastun knew that he was the pilot of Big O. Dastun simply refused to say it out loud. Even when Roger had tired of the dance, Dastun had refused to let it end.

"So you think I owe you, huh?" Roger smiled coldly. "Well it doesn't work that way. If you want me to negotiate with Paradigm for you, I want something in return."

"What!" Dastun nearly dropped his glass. "You've got to be kidding me! You greedy bastard! You owe me! Dammit, Roger, this isn't just for me, it's for my men! If Paradigm kicks every decent cop off the force, than the military police really will be the corrupt group of enforcers you think it is! What will happen to the city then?"

"I didn't say that I wouldn't do it," Roger assured him.

"We can't pay your fees, Roger!" Dastun insisted. "You're dealing with the one group of cops too stupid to take bribes! What the hell do you expect out of us, anyway?"

"I want Beck," Roger replied.

"What?" That stopped Dastun's rant cold.

"Jason Beck," Roger clarified. "I want him. I want copies of all of the files you have on him. I'm going to find him, Dastun, with or without your help. I'd rather it was with."

"Beck?" stammered the confused cop. "What do want him for? Need someone kidnapped?"

Roger rose to walk to the wall. "No, I was planning on doing the kidnapping myself." He reached out to a portrait mounted on the wall and it turned on a hinge like a door. Hidden behind it was a small safe. Roger's gloved fingers turned the dial a few times and he opened it to extract what appeared to be part of a DVD player. "This is Dorothy's main memory," he said as he showed it to Colonel Dastun. "Beck removed it from her skull. He's going to put it back in, just like he found it. I'm going to see if I can get him to cough up Dorothy's blueprints too."

As one of the few who knew Roger well, Dan Dastun often wondered just how attached Roger was to Dorothy. The look in Roger's eye offered an answer. "I… see," Dastun stammered before he nervously emptied his glass. He picked up his hat and headed to the door. "I better hurry back to headquarters and get you those files before I'm locked out of my office." Dan said as he paused to put his hat on while Norman summoned the elevator for him. "Just think about what you're going to say to the board of directors, all right? I care about that android too, but don't forget about my problem."

"It will be my pleasure," Roger smiled cruelly. "It will give me the excuse to say to them what I've wanted to say for years."

"Well don't have too much fun," Dan warned him. "We still got to win this thing ya know!"

"Don't worry," Roger assured him. "I'm sure that Paradigm will make this anything but fun."

"Ya got that right," Dastun groaned as he entered the elevator. "If you need an old dog to help you with the chase, call me day or night. I've got a feeling I'm going to have a lot of free time on my hands."

"Can do, Dan," Roger nodded, showing first hint of warmth he had during Dastun's visit. "We'll get through this, somehow. I promise you that."

"I'm gonna see that you keep that promise," Dastun retorted with mock hostility. He closed the gate and descended to street level.

After he left, Roger looked at a picture of his old squad. He and Dastun were prominently displayed in the center of their fellow officers. It was strange. Roger didn't seem to have physically aged since that picture was taken, but it seemed like forever since he quit the force. Now he was going to fight to ensure that a group of officers too honest for the military police would keep their jobs. Just more proof that the world of Paradigm City was too bizarre to be real.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, Roger Smith's long black sedan navigated through the damaged streets of Paradigm. Between Big Fau and the aerial attack from the Union, driving less than a mile from the mansion took more time than usual. It was a relief when he pulled his car up in front of the working class bar known as the Speak Easy.

After he activated the griffin's defense system, he paused before entering the bar. In his delirium during the battle with Big Fau, Roger imagined that the Speak Easy was hit by an aerial shell and was leveled. He was relieved to discover that the damage was nowhere as extensive. Cracked windows and paint from a near miss were new to the place, but the Speak Easy had always possessed an air of shabbiness. Summoning his resolve he entered the bar as if nothing was wrong.

The bartender handed him a bottle of his preferred beer. There were less people at the pool tables, but the bar was still crowded. He took that as a good sign. He had half expected the place to be empty, or packed to the gills by those in despair.

Hiding behind his dark sunglasses, Roger approached his informant that he had nicknamed 'the Big Ear'. The old man was sitting in his favorite chair reading a copy of the Paradigm Times. In spite of himself, Roger was comforted at the thought that even if Paradigm City burned to the ground, Big Ear would still be found in his favorite bar reading the newspaper…

Roger gasped and froze in his tracks. A vision of the Speak Easy ruined by an airborne bomb danced in his recollection. He had seen a stricken Big Ear, still seated in his ruined chair, with half of his face torn off to reveal metal and wires underneath!

"Something wrong, Negotiator?" Big Ear glanced up at him in mock concern. "Do I have something on my nose?"

Roger straightened his coat and tried to pull himself together. Was Big Ear really an android? Was his vision true? And more importantly, did it matter? Nearly every sentient, self-aware android that he had met had been decent, quiet individuals who had no desire to cause anyone trouble. Dorothy's homicidal doppelganger was the sole exception. Every other android had followed Paradigm City's unofficial credo: Don't ask questions, don't attract attention, keep your head down, and try to earn a living.

That wasn't one hundred percent true, was it? Roscoe Fitzgerald was an android and was formerly an executive in the Paradigm Corporation. He had kept his memories from before whatever erased the past and had experienced economic power that no android had ever possessed. He had even gotten married and grown old with a human…

"Roger?" Big Ear never called him by his name. The negotiator's behavior must really be worrying the old man.

Roger snorted in indignation and sat down next to his informant. The whole damn city was filled with mysteries that didn't matter. The answers, hell, even the questions would drive people insane and no one would benefit from the truth anyway. He had to focus and live in the 'here and now' instead of the 'maybe and never'.

"I'm looking for Beck," he snapped as if it was Big Ear who had acted out of turn instead of himself.

"That won't be easy," Big Ear was good enough to act like everything was normal. It was one of the things Roger liked about him. "Beck has gone underground. Something or someone has him running scared. That wouldn't be you, by any chance would it, Mister Negotiator?"

"Beck doesn't even know I'm looking for him," Roger shrugged, "but I'll let him know soon enough."

"Word has it that our little kidnapper is highly skilled in robotics," Big Ear continued as if he was discussing the weather. "It seems that the knowledge those memory fragments gave him has attracted the attention of certain people. People who could even make a hardened criminal stop in his tracks."

"He always was too showy," Roger grunted.

"I heard a story that someone very high up in the Paradigm Corporation had an order of execution authorized with his name on it," Big Ear uttered with the slightest hint of amusement. "By holding that over his head they could have him work for them for nothing."

"Work for them?" Roger started. "Doing what?"

"That's a good question, Negotiator," Big Ear glanced pointedly at Roger. "All I can say that after Alan Gabriel collected him from prison, two megadeuses challenged the black megadeus. It's probably a coincidence, but…"

"That's not important!" Roger snapped. Big Ear was connecting the dots, but Roger had most of it already. So that was the hold Paradigm had over Beck. Still, it wasn't important. "Where is he now?"

"He's gone to into hiding, and has summoned his most trusted henchmen to help him," Big Ear sounded almost bored. "They won't talk and they are almost as hard to find as he is. I can tell you the location of a hangout where one of them is often seen. That particular lackey is fairly recognizable."

"Which one?" Roger asked.

"The one that looks like a clown."

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

Next: Questions Unasked