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THE BIG O:

ACT 29

THE NINE MUSES OF DEATH!

Chapter Twelve: Apollo Triumphant

"All right let's get you out of there," Roger grunted in triumph. He pulled on the joysticks and Big O reached out to pull the armor off Big Duo's chest. The problem with building a megadeus that could fly was that it weight allowances had to be made somewhere, in this case the armor. "Ha!" Roger cried as Big Duo's breastplate came free. "Got you!"

Schwartzwald screamed as a giant gunmetal black hand reached down for him.

"Hold still you little…" Roger muttered as a signal chimed in the cockpit. "Yes, Norman, what is it?"

"Master Roger," the pinkish, monochromatic image of the elderly butler apologized from a circular screen. "Sorry to interrupt but I overheard an interesting conversation on the police radio a few minutes ago."

"Oh really?" Roger said distractedly, as he worked the joysticks to have the Big O pull a screaming Schwartzwald out of Big Duo's cockpit.

"Yes sir," Norman nodded. "It seems that rather than supervise the military police's forces at the megadeus battle, Colonel Dastun had more pressing business to attend to."

"He did?" Roger asked as he eyed the squirming Schwartzwald in Big O's massive fist. "What could be more important than leading his men?"

"I overheard something about a Special Weapons and Tactics team summoned to the old airport mall outside JFK Mark," Norman explained. "Apparently his forces are converging on some abandoned hangers, specifically a hanger five."

"Hm, I guess I'll go take a look then," Roger mused. "He probably doesn't need my help but it couldn't hurt." He glanced back at the struggling Schwartzwald. "It will also give me a chance to take out the trash."

Hanger five at the abandoned airport at the edge of town was a hotbed of activity. Automatic weapons fire was heard as military police in riot armor battled it out with Schwartzwald's followers. Some, like a couple of former members of the Union, knew how to fight and use a gun. Most of them were people whose lives were ruined by the Paradigm Corporation and had no training in firearms whatsoever. Even so, they were a determined group of fanatics who knew the terrain better than Dastun's men did.

Complicating things was the hostage situation. They had Gregory Stoker. He was still alive and they were willing to kill him. It was a miracle that they hadn't killed him the moment Dastun's men attacked the area. The only reason he was still alive was because the insurgents wanted to voice their demands.

It was hopeless. The insurgents knew that none of their demands would be met. They simply wanted to turn themselves into martyrs before dying in a hail of gunfire. If they couldn't bring down the Paradigm Corporation while they were alive, they would do their best to be a thorn in their side when they were dead. Dastun had to keep them talking as long as possible, but he wasn't a professional negotiator. He was a soldier. He was an officer.

"Try to keep calm!" Dastun shouted through a megaphone. "Don't do anything you might regret! The press is on its way!" he lied. Like he'd ever bring the press along to chronicle the end of his career. If anything happened to Gregory Stoker he was finished. "We still need proof that Stoker is still alive!" He lowered the megaphone to speak to O'Reilly. "They must have a phone line in there. Do you have their phone number yet? I don't think I'm going to get anywhere shouting across the tarmac like this."

"Yes I do," the android inspector informed him, "but the line is busy. They must be calling for instructions or help."

"Cut the phone lines and then tap into their line," Dastun instructed. "I don't want them talking to anybody but us. Wait a minute, why's the ground shaking?"

"It would appear that help is on the way," R Fredrick O'Reilly pointed to the black megadeus stomping towards them in the distance.

Dan Dastun had to bite his lip to avoid saying Roger's name. It just wouldn't do to let O'Reilly's superiors know that he knew who was piloting the black megadeus.

The Big O stomped its way until it came in between Dastun's men and hanger five. Then it slowly bent over and with one hand tore the roof off the airplane hangar. With its other hand, the black megadeus dangled the hysterical Schwartzwald over the insurgents who had made the hangar building their personal Alamo.

"Aaah!" Schwartzwald screamed as Big O held him by the back of his tattered raincoat. "No! Don't drop me! Please!"

"What is it doing?" O'Reilly asked.

"It's creating a distraction," Dastun growled. "We couldn't ask for a better one. Okay, all units move in! Move in!" Dastun dashed across the tarmac to discover that he was the only one moving forward. He turned back to his men. "What's the matter with you guys? I said move in! Are you going to embarrass yourself in front of the black megadeus?"

His men made confused sounds as they surged forward looking more like a bunch of disorganized children in riot armor then the best trained soldiers at Dastun's disposal. But surge forward they did, even though fear and common sense told them not to get close to a building that can walk.

Soon Schwartzwald's rebels were in handcuffs as they lay on the ground. Dastun himself was untying a drugged and dazed Gregory Stoker, whose coffee colored face was marred by a few bruises. The black megadeus bent over, its bulk obscuring the light and released a hoarse Schwartzwald almost ten feet in the air. The bandaged psychopath grunted in pain as he rolled on the ground and stared helplessly at the armed and armored military police surrounding him.

As the black megadeus turned and walked away, Dastun pointed at Schwartzwald and barked: "Slap the cuffs on him! Get him down on the ground with the others!" Then he turned back to Gregory Stoker. "Mister Stoker sir?" Dastun muttered apologetically. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to arrest you on suspicion on eight counts of conspiracy to murder."

"What?" Stoker's eyes bulged in indignation. "On what evidence do you make that charge?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"He's right, Colonel," O'Reilly apologized. "The evidence we have against him was gained illegally. It won't hold up in court."

"Oh yes it will," Dastun nodded. "The evidence isn't in Stoker's personal records. The evidence is your memory of reading his personal records. Are you willing to provide your memories as evidence in a court of law?"

"It would be my pleasure," O'Reilly nodded.

"Inspector O'Reilly!" Stoker protested. "Your primary mission is to bring down the culprits and protect the Paradigm Corporation!"

"I am protecting the Paradigm Corporation," O'Reilly insisted. "Anyone who would conspire with the company's enemies to assassinate the other members of the board is too great a threat to allow to go free. I'm sorry, Mister Stoker. To fulfill my mission I have to see that you are persecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

"Colonel Dastun," Stoker growled. "I pulled you out of prison!"

"And I'm throwing you into prison," Dastun retorted. "Too bad, Stoker. If you want me to dance to your tune you can't mastermind a no-win scenario like this. Too many important people got killed on my watch. Odds are my career is over, and I have you to thank for it. I might as well drag you down with me. Johnson, slap the cuffs on him and put him on the ground with the others!"

"Y-yes… sir," his nervous subordinate nodded.

In the distance the black megadeus stomped its foot and sank into the ground as if standing atop a giant descending platform. "Time to call Roger again," Dastun muttered under his breath. "Let's hope he can get me out of this one!"

Days later, Roger Smith strode out of Paradigm Headquarters and into Dastun's car. Dastun was waiting for him in the back seat. "How did it go?" he asked as he nodded for his driver to start the vehicle.

"I think it went pretty well," Roger smiled hopefully. "I think I was able to sell them on the 'no one must be allowed to murder a Paradigm executive and get away with it' angle. As the new members of the board, the last thing they want is for people to eliminate them and get off Scott free."

"Yeah, but no one is allowed to arrest a Paradigm executive either," Dastun growled. "By exercising that kind of authority I've become a threat. If they don't decide to remove me they'll probably try to eliminate me."

"I don't know about that," Roger grinned. "Most of Alex Rosewater's followers are gone. The ones who are left haven't crossed that line yet. They're frightened too after all this. I think they might appreciate a little law and order for now. At least until they strengthen their power base."

"In other words they're willing to postpone giving me the axe until they're strong enough to get by without me," Dastun groaned. "Well that's something I guess. But I was just too slow…"

"That's right," Roger chuckled. "You were slow enough to get rid of everyone who might get in the current boardmembers' way but you caught the murderers in the end so now they're safe. It couldn't have gone better if they planned it!"

"Do you think that Stoker will live to see his trial?" Dastun asked. "To allow him to go up before a jury would expose Paradigm's dirty secrets. It could incriminate a lot of the guys in charge now."

"I don't know, Dan," Roger shrugged. "I don't really care about him. If they do decide to off him let's hope they make it look like an accident. That way you can close the book on it like they'll want you to."

"I was once in the big house," Dastun grumbled. "A fake suicide in prison isn't something to laugh at."

"It would give you the opportunity to look the other way and let the new board know they can trust you," Roger told him. "I don't like it either, but I don't care about a man who conspired with both Alex Rosewater and Schwartzwald to murder a bunch of people. He made his bed didn't he? He can take his chances and face the consequences as far as I'm concerned. Icare about a man who defied orders and put his life and career on the line to do the right thing. He's someone worth protecting, don't you agree?"

"Knock off the mushy stuff; you're making my eyes water," Dastun smiled grimly. "I get it. I'll keep my head down and my mouth shut if I can and if no innocents are in danger. I won't have to like it; I'll just have to do it if I want to keep my job. Or my head," he added as he looked out the window.

"That's the spirit," Roger smiled. "Who knows? Maybe Stoker will live to see his trial and you won't be put in that position."

"Yeah, and I believe in the tooth fairy too," Dastun grumbled. "I dunno. Maybe if he pleads guilty it can be settled quietly and the board won't have to silence him. Stranger things have happened I guess."

"Well this is my stop," Roger smiled as the car pulled up outside of Rosterman's restaurant. "See you around, Dan, and keep your head down," he said as he stepped out of the car.

"I'll do that," Dastun grunted. "Hey Roger, if this military police thing doesn't work out how do I get into the negotiation racket? I hear that it pays really well."

"You can make a good living if you know what you're doing," Roger winked. "Take care, Dan, thanks for the ride."

When Roger entered the restaurant, the maître d' led him to a table where a slender teenage girl in a red dress was waiting for him.

"I'm surprised to see you in that dress," Roger teased her. He would have never guessed that Dorothy would wear the dress that she wore the night her father was murdered in a million years. Perhaps this was her way of coping.

"You're late, Roger Smith," Dorothy Wayneright gently scolded.

"You know how these negotiations go, Dorothy," Roger smiled. "You never know how long they're going to last."

"What did Dastun pay you for your negotiating fee?" the girlish android asked him. "He's too proud to take charity."

"He's paid for this wonderful meal we're about to have," Roger replied. "After dragging us away last time we were here he owes us."

"You have to admit that the mood was broken," Dorothy teased dryly.

"Yeah but it's the principle of the thing," Roger insisted. "We paid for that dinner we never got to eat it."

"I did some checking on the nine muses," Dorothy said in an attempt to make small talk. "In your own house I found a book on classical mythology. It seems that the goddesses known as the nine muses were led by a masculine god called 'Apollo'."

"What was he? The god of vengeance?" Roger quipped. "Was his face disfigured?"

"No the deity of vengeance was a woman," Dorothy said firmly.

"Burr," Roger shivered in mock fear. "I'll watch my step then!"

"And Apollo was known for his unusual physical beauty," Dorothy informed him. "He was the god of fine arts, music, poetry, and eloquence."

"Eloquence?" Roger repeated. "Sounds like he would have made a fine negotiator!" he winked. "Did you mention something in there about physical beauty?"

"I did," the girl nodded subtly, "but right now I'm more interested in finding out if he can dance."

"What?" Roger made a show of surprise. "We're going dancing later?"

"That was on the itinerary when we were interrupted," Dorothy insisted.

"Can you dance?" Roger challenged.

"With mechanical precision," she deadpanned.

"Sounds like this Apollo guy has a lot of talents," Roger bragged.

"He also had many paramours," Dorothy added sternly. "Does he remind you anyone you know?"

"Nope, I can't think of anybody," Roger shook his head as he pulled at his collar. He chuckled at Dorothy's overly serious face. "Relax, Dorothy," he teased. "I assure you that aside of you there are no women in my life right now."

"Mister Smith?" A waiter interrupted them. "A lady wishes to speak to you sir."

"Oh really?" Roger smiled with a hint of enthusiasm. "Could be a job offer. Dorothy?" he glanced over at the mechanical girl for a sign of consent.

Dorothy's eyes were narrow slits, and her lips were pursed in obvious disapproval. Normally she kept a perfect poker face whether her heart was being broken or her dress was on fire. She really must not have wanted him to go.

"Ah," Roger smiled knowingly. He had scored an impressive victory. After living under his roof for an entire year Dorothy finally trusted him enough to let him know what she was thinking if it was really, really important to her. "Give the lady my apologies, but tell her I'm indisposed will you? She can contact me at my home." He handed the waiter a business card.

"Very good sir," the waiter nodded. "I'll give you more time to peruse the menu while I inform the lady with your permission." He nodded again before leaving.

At the front of the restaurant the waiter apologized to a beautiful young woman in wearing pink. "I'm sorry, Miss. It seems the gentleman is not available at this time. He did give me his card," he said as he handed the lady Roger's business card, "and he invites you to visit him at this address. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No thank you," Angel nodded sadly as she looked over his shoulder. Roger and Dorothy seemed quite happy together, as happy as a black clad misanthrope and an unfeeling android could be. It was sad, but Dorothy was actually much better for Roger than Angel could ever be. Angel couldn't resist the temptation to see Roger again, but for Roger's sake she would have to. Roger was too good a guy to learn the truth and become the next Schwartzwald.

It was insane. Dorothy Wayneright was an android. Artificial. Fake. She was a lie. Yet the lie would be so much better for Roger in the long run than Angel who was flesh and blood. Natural. The truth. Only in Paradigm City could a lie be better than the truth. Better for everyone. Angel turned and walked outside to the street and tried to wish Dorothy and Roger the best. In the meantime, Dorothy was doing what Angel had told her to do. Trying her best to make Roger forget about the woman who called herself… Angel.

We have come to terms.

Dorothy and Roger sit on a large hourglass the size of a barstool. Behind them is an orange background. The sound of a piano and the duet of a man and woman singing can be heard.

Sometimes I feel so all alone

Finding myself callin' your name

When we're apart, so far away

Hopin' it's me that you're thinkin' of

Could it be true, could it be real?

My heart says that you're the one.

There's no one else, you're the only one for me.

Yes, this time my love's the real thing.

Never felt that love is so right.

The world seemed such an empty place.

We need someone we could give our all.

Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever.

Could it be true, could it be real?

My heart says that you're the one.

There's no one else, you're the only one for me.

Yes, this time my love's the real thing.

Never felt that love is so right.

The world seemed such an empty place.

We need someone we could give our all.

Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever.

Never felt that love is so right.

The world seemed such an empty place.

We need someone we could give our all.

Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever.

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

Next: Priceless