The Big O and all of its setting and characters are © Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual.

Additional material © 20th century Fox

THE BIG O:

ACT 27

ROGER THE VIGILANTE

Chapter Eight: Roger Strikes Gold

Roger grabbed the man's axe handle, kicking out at him to knock him away. He then turned and ducked just as the second man swung, leaning down against the wall on the opposite side of his assailant's swing. He rose to his feet to kick the thug in the white suit, only to duck the swing of the man in the green suit, who was now behind him since he had turned around.

A small mirror on the wall helped to extend Roger's peripheral vision, but even so, he had his hands full with these two axe wielding murderers.

Roger pressed his back to the wall, in order to get away from the blow of the muscle in the green suit, but it was no use. With the two men at opposite sides of him, at least one of them would be able to swing their axe at him, despite being in a narrow hallway.

Sure enough, the man in the white suit swung at him, and Roger's arms reached out to seize the handle before the head smashed into him. The thug in the green suit slashed down in order to strike the negotiator's arms, but Roger and the man in the white suit separated and drew back instinctively.

Ducking and crossing to the opposite wall, Roger was narrowly missed by the white suit's blow, and was gratified to see the axe get stuck in the wall for a moment. He dodged the second man's swing at him and put his arm up against the green suited man's axe once he had finished his swing.

Now the black clad negotiator was leaning against the wall with one arm holding the green clad man's axe and his body pressing on the back of the white suited man's axe.

It was then that Roger discovered that he wasn't the only one who could fight with his feet. Even though the thug in the white suit was shorter than Roger, one of his legs could still kick high enough to connect with Roger's torso.

Soon the man in the green suit took one hand off his embedded axe to punch at Roger. The negotiator was forced to block blows from his two assailants by using one hand and one leg while his body was immobilized holding two deadly weapons in place against the wall.

In less than two seconds, Roger had to abandon his position and move to the opposite wall. Without his presence, it would take no time at all for his foes to free their axes and come after him again. Time to end this.

Roger had enough distance to put his entire body into a kick that bowled the green suited man over. In the meantime his shorter opponent in the white suit had managed to wrest his fire axe from the wall and swing it over his head like a samurai warrior.

Roger dodged to his left and the blow pulled a sturdy brass sconce for holding candle shaped bulbs out of the wall. Roger's eyes bulged open in realization as he noticed the curving U shaped arms of the sconce entangle the axe head.

A powerful kick was enough to free the sconce from the wall and Roger used it as a weapon to parry the axes. Soon he had both axe heads entangled in the brass sconce and both his attackers were trying to pull their weapons free.

Now was his chance! Roger leaped high into the air and spread his long powerful legs in order to kick both his foes in their faces, sending them both to the ground.

Roger had no time to determine whether or not they were out cold because a door opened and another man burst out, grimacing and wielding an old-style Thompson submachine gun. Roger dashed down the hall and around a corner to dodge the .45 bullets that tore chunks out of the walls. The new thug took off after Roger and was surprised when Roger backhanded him as the gunman ran around the corner. Roger Smith was waiting for him!

Before the gunman could react, Roger bent over and picked up his weapon. "Where's Beck?" Roger asked as he level the tommygun in the bodyguard's direction.

"Dunno," the bodyguard croaked.

Roger Smith set the submachine gun on full auto and fired. He fired the gun at the stairs in case a new foe should appear there. He fired the gun behind him to kill any attackers sneaking up behind him. He fired over the bodyguard's head to make sure that he didn't get up and try anything.

"Where's Beck?" Roger roared.

"He's here," the bodyguard admitted weakly. It was obvious that Roger was not going to be stopped. "He's got to be in here someplace, I…"

"Quiet!" Roger ordered. The sound of an automobile starting its engine was unmistakable. Beck was getting away!

Roger turned and ran back to the front of the house. There was no way he was going to lose Jason Beck after he had gone through all of this to find him. The black clad negotiator's long legs propelled him over the comatose bodies of the lackeys he had battled and he arrived at the front door to witness Jason Beck's yellow sedan drive by the front of the house.

Bobo staggered to his feet to see Roger standing not two feet away with his back to him. Steeling his courage, Bobo lunged to tackle Roger from behind…only to be struck by the negotiator's elbow that had whipped up suddenly to jab the hapless lackey in the neck. Bobo collapsed back the ground as Roger activated his watch to summon the long black sedan known as the Griffin.

The onyx car drove up and opened its driver's side door as if the invisible man was offering Roger a ride. Without a word, Roger hopped in the car and took off after Beck.

Soon the two vehicles were roaring along the road towards Paradigm City.

This was an unfortunate complication. Somehow Roger had to stop Beck's car without causing a wreck that would kill the wily criminal. Big O was still in a state of disrepair, but he still had the Griffin! Time to do this old the old fashioned way.

Beck was speeding back towards Paradigm City. Of course he was. Aside of Paradigm, there weren't very many places to go. If you didn't want to go out into the dust covered wasteland, you had to head up the Hudson River. Trees had started growing along the river after the Event of forty years ago, and a few villages had been reclaimed from the wilderness, but that was about it. If Beck wanted to escape Roger, his best bet would be to lose him in the maze of streets called Paradigm City.

Roger was having none of it. His foot pushed the gas pedal down and his finger pressed a button on the dashboard labeled 'turbo'. The Griffin shot forward like a speeding bullet after Beck's sedan.

In his yellow car, Jason Beck glanced in the rear view mirror to check for pursuers. His eyes widened in recognition as a distant speck became a black Cadillac as it got closer. Soon the Griffin was so close that he could see Roger Smith behind the wheel. "Roger's car?" the blonde crook protested in disbelief. "You've gotta be kidding me!"

Roger flicked a switch and the Griffin's front bumper split in half to reveal a tri pronged grappling hook. With a pneumatic hiss, the grapping hook shot forward, trailing a silvery cable as it imbedded itself in the back of Beck's car.

"What the hell?" Beck exclaimed as an abrupt jerk caused him to lean forward pressing against the shoulder restraint on his seatbelt. "Dammit! What's wrong now?"

At that moment, the bumpers of Roger and Beck's cars were touching. Roger pushed another button and forklift style arms poked out from underneath his front bumper. Slits in the grill of the Griffin slid open to allow the arms to raise the back of Beck's car off the ground. With his rear wheels unable to achieve traction, Beck was helpless as Roger let both cars coast to a stop.

After uselessly pressing his foot down on the gas pedal, Jason Beck shut off the ignition and got out of the car to face his pursuer. "Roger Smith?" he said to the man in black who as standing less than five feet away, glaring at him. "What do you want? I don't have anything, Alex Rosewater is the one you want…"

Roger's punch was so vicious and unexpected that not even Beck's reflexes were ready for it. "Hey!" the blond crook gasped as he fell backwards on his rump. "What was that for?" He stopped when he noticed that Roger was pointing a small snub nosed pistol at him. "A gun? Since when do you use guns?"

"Empty your pockets, Beck," Roger instructed.

Beck's eyes were still on the gun. The pistol was so small it was hard to see with Roger's black gloved hand around it, but the small snubnosed barrel was unmistakably pointed at him. "Hey! Who do you think you're…"

The gun in Roger's hand made an ominous clicking sound.

"Okay!" Beck's face had a huge comical smile. "Empty my pockets! No problem! Let's see what I've got here…" He pulled a pistol out of his jacket with the thumb and forefinger. "A pistol! That looks pretty dangerous!" The criminal tossed it over his shoulder. "Let's check the pants… what do we have here? A knife!" Beck extracted a stiletto from a special sheath that was strapped to his ankle. He set the knife down carefully, and then pushed it away. "I gotta tell ya, crow-boy, it's hard to run with that thing attached to your ankle." He opened his jacket and made a big show of checking his pockets for more weapons. "Anything else? Nope! A box of cigarettes! Is it okay if I keep that? I really…"

"Your comb," Roger interrupted him.

"What?"

"Your comb, Beck," Roger repeated. "Get rid of it. It's got a taser with a shock strong enough to paralyze an android."

Beck's smile vanished to be replaced by an irritated frown. "Oh. That." From the look on his face, Beck really didn't want to part with his comb as he pulled it out of his jacket pocket and set it down on the ground next to him. Roger allowed himself a smile. It was obvious that Beck had intended to ambush Roger when the opportunity presented itself.

"Okay, stand up," Roger snapped. When the blond criminal complied, the negotiator ordered, "Put your hands on the car. I'm going to frisk you myself."

"Okay," Beck quipped as he stood up and placed his hands on his vehicle, "don't try anything kinky or my parole officer will hear about this!"

Roger groaned as he stepped forward to pat the wily felon down. Suddenly, Beck's long leg kicked out behind him to trip the negotiator. In less than a second, Beck had turned around and jumped on Roger to struggle for the gun.

As the two enemies rolled on the ground, their clothing flashed black-gold-black-gold. Almost as if they were a coordinated pair, they separated and scrambled to their feet.

Beck had the tiny short barreled pistol and was grinning like a maniac. "Too bad, Crow-boy!" the golden gunman taunted. "You should have stuck to negotiation and left the strong-arm stuff to me!" Beck pulled the trigger and whooshing noises were heard, accompanied by tapping sounds as the projectiles hit Roger's chest.

"Huh?" Beck glanced at the gun. "This thing doesn't have a silencer! What?" He peered at Roger's chest only to see what looked like green glass beads embedded in the negotiator's white shirt. Closer inspection revealed that they were tiny syringes. "Tranquilizer darts? You held me at gunpoint with tranquilizer darts?"

"It doesn't take much to threaten you when your gold suit's turned yellow," Roger's grin held no warmth.

"Why you!" Beck swung at Roger, but the man in black stepped backward with each swing to dodge and weave out of the way.

"Careful, Beck," Roger warned. "You don't want to damage those perfect safecracker's hands of yours."

"You let me worry about my hands!" Beck growled as he furiously punched at the evading negotiator. "You can't keep this up, Roger! I've put enough tranquilizer in you to knock out an army! Ouch!" he squealed as his left fist finally made contact with Roger's midsection. "Body armor?"

"I warned you," Roger tutted as he used the opening to seize the yellow criminal and twist his arm behind his back. "Those hands are very precious to me. They may have been designed for safecracking, but they can double for the hands of a surgeon."

Beck's protests were muffled as Roger used his free hand to cover the crook's nose and mouth with a handkerchief that reeked of chloroform.

"Now I want you to do me a favor and breathe deep…" Roger instructed.

Despite his spirited struggles, Beck couldn't hold his breath forever. Soon the tall blond's lanky body went limp and Roger turned him around. With one hand, the negotiator held Beck up by his collar as his other hand pulled back and punched the talented felon in the jaw. Aside of a muffled groan as he fell backwards onto the Griffin, Beck gave no reaction.

"Just checking," Roger smiled cruelly. He picked up the gold suited felon and put him in the passenger seat of the black sedan, then entered the driver's side himself.

Roger's black gloved hand flicked a switch and removed a microphone from the dashboard that was still attached with a curly wire. A black and white television screen was filled with static before clearing into an image of Norman's face. "Yes, Master Roger?" said the attentive butler.

Roger noticed that Norman was wearing a construction helmet. "Norman, I can see that you're busy, but please prepare a room for our guest. We need accommodations for one Jason Beck, alias Beck Gold."

"Wonderful Master Roger!" the old man gushed. "I take it your search was successful?"

"That's right," Roger grinned as he glanced over at the passenger seat to view the bruises forming on Beck's face. "You could say that I've struck Gold!"

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

Next: The Unwilling Guest