Season 1, Episode 3: Remember
Me
Part 4 of 6
Looking
down below from the tiny catwalk he perched upon above the stage, he saw
them. Scattering around like cockroaches
in a musty apartment when the lights turn on.
Looking for him, no doubt.
He
knew they were looking for him; why wouldn't they? He wasn't one of them
anymore, and because of that, they wanted him gone. He could see them, going
off in the distance, beyond what normal vision could see. His steel blue eye
took it all in, along with the aide of the blinking red light emanating from
his former right eye’s socket. Now gears, metal, and a robotically-engineered
optical system took its place. He was
beyond normal now, beyond them. Now he
was in a place that was once beyond his own imagination.
His
hand drifted subconsciously to the area that had once held his eye. Now it was
an added skill, having lost that eye the way he had. Yet the betrayal when it
had first happened still spun around his clouded mind.
Nick,
who had ruined him, who had changed his life permanently…
Jay,
who had done nothing…
Jewel,
who hadn’t been able to heal him…
And
K, who had been the worst of them all…
He held the ice pack to his
head. The temporary medicine Red Jewel
had given him to lessen the swelling was wearing off. He could hear the incessant thumping, Indian
bongo drums in his mind, signaling in the excitedly festive mental beat that
the injury was returning at a rapid pace.
Ironic it was drums, as that was his very own
alias, as well as the charm
Irony.
It sickened him, and he only
pleaded for a cure soon. But he would find one. He would. Himitsu Takana was
still his home, and they would find him that cure, even if Jewel could not cure
him, even if Pearl refused to use her robotics to replace that eye and stop the
abnormal growth of his head. He would find a way; the agency would help him.
He sat there in the training
room, watching the lower agents train. They were those below the 00-Agent
status he and Nick held so highly. Justin was one of the youngest, but he knew
he had earned his position, and he intended to keep it.
He continuing his watching
with peaked interest; the blonde before
him showed promise in the field they worked in. A newer recruit, her name was
Desiree. She was a flirt, coming on to any attractive thing with a penis.
Currently, she had the rank of agent 010, one below him, and was seen often on
the arm of agent 011, Leo DiCaprio.
He watched with his only eye
as the ice pack soothed the thudding dance beat of his mental state only
slightly. Justin would not let anyone usurp his position. Nick was the same
way, as was Shazam. All were protective of the positions they had worked so
hard for, like the ranks were their children.
He felt alone, having been
betrayed by his friends so harshly. All but JC. He would eventually forgive
them, he supposed. By the time he found a cure.
Tiredly, he ran his free hand
over the mop of blond curls he called his hair.
The phone interrupted Justin’s
train of thought as the theme to Star Wars hummed on his phone. He glanced down
at silver phone as “GRANDMA” ran across the caller ID. Grandma… couldn’t K have picked something
else?
He walked down to K’s office,
and there the older man stood, leaning against the dark mahogany desk, his jade
eyes piercingly cold.
“Justin.” That got his
attention. Since he’d created his alias,
everyone had been calling him Drums.
“K… you needed to see me?” His
hand held the ice pack to the pain still, despite it beginning to melt.
“We need to talk. It’s about
your injury.”
“I’m going to find a cure,
sir.”
“You’re a liability, with your
handicap-”
“It won’t be-”
“It is, and with one like
that, we can’t have such a risk at the agency.”
Justin couldn’t believe his
ears.
No.
Not after everything he’d
done, everything he’d given up! He was
dedicated to Himitsu Takana! He had
given up his own eye, risked his life countless times. K couldn’t be saying what he thought he was.
“Pack up your things; you’ll
be exiting your quarters in the morning. You have been officially discharged.
We thank you for your service and-”
“This is bullshit, K!” he
screamed, showing only a fraction of the hurt that plagued him.
“Justin, this is anything but
personal. You can’t work with your handicap. What we do affects the entire
world, and you are a liability we cannot afford. Desiree will handle her
promotion, though undoubtedly not with your skill-”
“You’re replacing ME with
Diamond Divine. This is bullshit, K. BULLSHIT!” He raced out of the office, not
being able to take standing there with his now former superior agent in front
of him. Now he was truly betrayed, abandoned, and alone. All he knew meant
nothing…
And
here he was, having faced his former comrades in his new line of work. Diamond obviously
had replaced him, just as K had said. Nick was still in his old role, and you
couldn’t even see the damage on his arm. All Nick had gotten was a simple scar,
a large one, admittedly, since they had been next to each other when it
happened. A scar he noticed Nick had
covered with a mural-styled tattoo. As
if it never happened.
Justin
had enjoyed no such luxury, and people would cower when they saw his face. As
they should cower.
He
would show them all the bitter taste he had experienced when they had turned
their backs on them. They would taste it. He would shove it down their throats
if he had to. All of those at Himitsu Takana should taste the betrayal. But of
them all, Jay, Nick,
And
they would be feasting on it far sooner than they realized.
± ± ±
Sitting
in the auditorium with Diamond, Nick found it impossible to pay attention to
the auditions playing out before him.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he would be called up to
sing again at some point, as he had somehow managed to fumble through yet
another round of the Global Idol competition.
But he didn’t care about that now (not that he had really cared any
other time).
He
couldn’t get Justin out of his head.
The
image of his former accomplice, sneering and bitter, his features marred by the
black metal band that encircled his head and the electric red glow of the
optical device implanted where his right eye had once been, was engrained in
Nick’s memory, and try as he might to focus on something else, he could not
forget it.
The
change in Drums had shocked him; the former agent seemed almost more machine
than man now, metal and cold.
So
very cold.
Nick
could understand the bitterness; he really could. It wasn’t fair that, after making it to the
rank of a 00-agent, Justin had been discharged because of an injury received
through no fault of his own. But rules
were rules, and Himitsu Takana agents had to have perfect vision. That was just the way it was. Justin had known that, as did Nick and
Diamond and every other agent.
So
what had happened? How had he gone so
wrong? How, in a matter of months, had
he been corrupted and twisted into a monster who fought for the enemy, fought
against his former partners?
Just
like that, the friendly rivalry they’d always had was a real one. The malice that had shown in Justin’s one
remaining eye was proof enough of that.
Remembering the latter’s icy expression, as hard and cold as his new
metal headdress, Nick was left with a bitter taste in his mouth.
He
swallowed with difficulty, his throat feeling tight and dry.
The
girl currently onstage was using the same excuse to explain her horrific
croaking of a Celine Dion song. “My throat
was just really dry,” she lamented with pleading eyes, silently begging the
judges to give her another chance. “I
know I can sing that song a lot better.”
“Poor
song choice, either way,” came the British judge’s curt reply. “That song was too big for your voice. I’m not sure you’ve got what it takes to move
forward in the competition. You just
might be out of your league.”
“Please,
I know I can do it!” the girl continued to beg, sounding near tears.
A
light jab in the ribs caused Nick to turn to Diamond, who didn’t hesitate in
rolling her eyes at him. “She was
god-awful,” she hissed into his ear, her warm breath tickling his neck as she
leaned close. “You know the only reason
she’s still up there is cause she’s hot.”
Nick,
who hadn’t been paying much attention until now, eyed the girl again, taking in
her appearance. She was indeed
pretty. Though he preferred blondes to
brunettes, he couldn’t help but admire her long legs, exposed almost fully by a
short miniskirt, and the perfect pair of breasts swelling out of her plunging
neckline.
Diamond
may have been right – she couldn’t sing – but she was certainly nice to look at
up onstage.
But
not for much longer. She was soon joined
on the stage by the show’s host, Mark McGrath, formerly of the band Sugar Ray,
who put his arm around her and murmured comforting words to her, then proceeded
to look up, find one of the cameras recording the entire thing, and say
directly into it, “Will Jasmine move on to the next round? Find out… after the break!”
Nick
rolled his eyes. This sort of thing had
been happening after every few contestants.
He supposed the producers had to get the commercial breaks scripted in
during the filming for when the footage was shown on TV, but all the breaks
were getting a little ridiculous. He was
anxious to get out of here and track down Drums.
“Where
do you think he went?” he asked Diamond in a low voice, his eyes sweeping the
large auditorium, wondering if his rival was even still in the MGM Grand.
“Who?”
“Drums! Who else are we looking for?” snapped Nick
irritably. Diamond could be so blonde
sometimes. Of course, others were known
to say the same about him…
He
decided he had better check in with the smart blonde of HimTak, Professor
Pearl. Maybe she had some insight on
where they could find Drums. Hunching
low in his seat, Nick bent over the “watch” on his wrist and fumbled with its
many buttons, trying to remember which one would connect him with headquarters. He was still getting used to
Voices
onstage caused him to glance up momentarily.
There was another guy onstage with Mark McGrath now.
“..
and what are you going to sing?” Mark was asking him, holding his microphone
towards the contestant.
Not caring,
Nick’s head dropped back to the watch again.
“I’ll
be singing…” The contestant cut off
suddenly, as if he’d forgotten what he would be singing. Nick glanced up again, just as the guy seemed
to get his bearings and finished, “… Mr. Roboto… by
He
said this in a very robotic monotone, and Nick, figuring he was trying to be
funny, shook his head and returned to playing with his watch.
In
the background, the guy on stage started to sing, “You’re wondering who I am… machine or mannequin… with parts made in
His
finger poised over the contact button on his watch, Nick’s memory went full
circle, suddenly returning to the image of Justin and his mechanical headpiece
and eye.
“I’ve got a secret I’ve been
hiding under my skin
My heart is human, my blood is
boiling, my brain IBM
So if you see me, acting
strangely, don’t be surprised
I’m just a man who needed
someone, and somewhere to hide
To keep me alive… just keep me
alive…”
Unable
to concentrate on anything but the image of Justin and his bitter sneer, Nick
swallowed with difficulty, once again overcome by the guilt he harbored over
the whole situation. A part of him hated
Justin for becoming what he had, and yet, a part of him just felt sorry.
“00Carter? What’s going on?”
“Um…
nothing new, really,” he whispered into the watch. “No sign of Drums. We were wondering if you knew anything to
help us find him again.”
“Let
me check the other camera feeds. I’ll
get back to you,” promised
“I am the modern man, who
hides behind a mask, so no one else can see my true identity!” belted the guy on stage,
raising his arms above his head.
And
then, something strange happened. A
chorus of voices rose above his, singing, “Domo
arigato, Mr. Roboto… domo….”
“Domo,”
echoed the contestant.
“Domo.”
“Domo.”
“Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto…
domo arigato, Mr. Roboto… domo arigato, Mr. Roboto…”
It
seemed that the entire auditorium was chanting it in the same eerie drone, and
when he looked around, Nick found that he was right. Everyone he could see was singing it. All of their eyes were fixed straight ahead,
and their feet were planted firmly against the floor. Only their arms moving, and stiffly so, doing
“the robot”… in perfect unison.
Even
the three judges up in the front were on their feet, singing and doing the
robotic choreography in the exact same way as the audience. And stranger yet, the cameramen had abandoned
their cameras and were singing and dancing too.
The
sight was so unsettling that it made the hairs on the back of Nick’s neck stand
on end. Skin prickling, he turned
quickly to Diamond…
… and
was met with a terrifying realization.
Diamond
was doing it, too.
“Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto…
domo arigato, Mr. Roboto…” It was her voice, but all
the usual liveliness, the flirtatious playfulness in it was gone, replaced with
a dreary monotone, void of all personality.
Her arms moved stiffly, and her shaking hips and shimmying bosoms were
oddly still.
“Diamond,
what are you doing?!” he cried in horror, slugging her in the shoulder. Her body swayed to the side with the force of
his nudge, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. She just kept up her robotic routine, singing
flatly.
It
was as if she’d been hypnotized, somehow lulled into this almost-catatonic
state. The entire room had been
hypnotized, he realized. There was no
other explanation.
“Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto…” they kept singing, and he
looked around frantically, wishing he could find someone else like him, someone
who was not hypnotized.
But
there was no one. They were all singing. Even Mark McGrath, who stood off to the side
of the stage, his microphone held out towards the audience, picking up their
robotic chorus.
“Nick?”
The sound
of his name attracted Nick’s attention back to his watch, and he breathed a
sigh of relief when he saw that
“Nick,
he’s not showing up on any of our cameras,” said
“Forget
that for now,” Nick replied impatiently.
“We’ve got bigger problems…”
And
he turned his watch toward Diamond, who was still singing along,
glassy-eyed. “Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto…”
± ± ±