Episode 3: Remember Me
Part 5
His dark brown eyes penetrated the monitor. Reflected in their depths, the scene played out before him: row upon row of contestants doing the same zombie-like choreography, singing in the same robotic drone. “Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto…”
He leaned forward and pushed a stray, black curl away from his face, the better to see the screen. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
His plan was working.
A smile spread like warm butter across his face, and his eye began to twitch with mounting excitement.
It was working; it was really working! They had hypnotized everyone at Global Idol… and soon, the hypnosis would extend to the world. After all, Global Idol was truly a global phenomenon. Billions would watch it — billions who would soon be brainwashed in support of him.
“We’ve done it, Sexi,” he murmured, turning to his female companion. “The seed has been planted, and it’s already starting to grow. Just watch… soon, the entire planet will be in its tangles, and then… we will rule the world.”
Sexi seductively twirled a tendril of her long, black hair around her slender, taloned finger. “Sorry I ever doubted you, Dr. Rough. I didn’t think it would work with all the security, but you were right. It’s working.” She smiled, her dark eyes flashing seductively. “I can’t wait to be queen of the world.”
His eye twitched even more, much to his annoyance. It always did that when he got nervous or excited, and both emotions were going in overdrive within him now. Excitement because his plan was working, despite Himitsu Takana’s attempts to sabotage it. Nervousness because… well, he always found himself nervous around Sexi. She was sitting so close to him, he could feel her warm breath fluttering against his neck. She made his heart race and his palms sweat whenever she touched him, her long fingernails scraping lightly over his skin.
“I can’t wait either,” he murmured, drinking in the sight of her, quenched by her beauty. His eyes lingered on her rear end as she retreated to spread the word of their success to the rest of the agents at FANS headquarters.
He knew, deep down, that she only flirted with him because he was in a place of power, and she was hungry for some of it. But he didn’t mind. No girl as attractive as her had ever given him the time of day when he was just Howie Dorough, a short kid with greasy hair and a lazy eye. But as Dr. Rough, he was someone to be admired, someone to be feared. Someone to be idolized. Someone to remember.
In due time, they would all remember his name. And some of them would remember the short guy with the twitching eye they had let get away.
“Yeeeeesssss, Dr. Twitches,” he muttered, reaching down to stroke the lithe body of his minion ferret. “Soon, they’ll remember Howie Dorough… but not as Howie Dorough. They’ll know me as… Dr. Rough!”
He rehearsed his evil alias with a roar, hoping to invoke terror in all. But Dr. Twitches, far from fearful, just squeaked cheerfully and tried to burrow into his crotch.
Reddening, Dr. Rough felt his eye twitch some more, this time with embarrassment, as he pulled the squirmy ferret out from between his legs. He was glad that Sexi had already gone.
***
Agent K narrowed his eyes at the man standing in front of his desk. “I don’t care what anyone else told you to do. This is an international situation; it’s HimTak’s jurisdiction.”
“This situation is happening on U.S. soil. Our jurisdiction. I’m following my orders,” the man replied, his Southern accent heavy. “So if you wanna change ’em, take it up with my boss.”
“I don’t have time to waste arguing with your idiot boss over at the CIA! The U.S. isn’t the only country at risk here!” K sighed with frustration. “My orders are the only orders you’re gonna follow. Is that clear, cousin?” Before he could answer, a knock interrupted him. “Come in!”
A woman entered, her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail that swung against her shoulders as she walked over. She wore a distressed, black leather jacket, a black t-shirt that read “LED ZEPPELIN” across the chest, and a pair of blue jeans that looked as if they’d gotten ripped during several fights. He’d hardly expected to find a high-ranking international agent wearing that type of attire.
“You rang, K?” she asked as she stopped beside him.
“005, this is Officer Brian Littrell of the CIA, also known as The Rok.” He motioned to her left, where the short, blond man was scanning her with his deep blue eyes. “He’s going with you to back up 008 and 009 in Las Vegas. Leave immediately.”
“You got it, boss.” Summer O’Riley — better known as Emerald Ecstasy to her colleagues at HimTak — gave K a small wave, then walked towards the door. After a few moments of silence, she looked back, realizing that the officer wasn’t following her. “You coming, CIA?”
“Fine,” he answered, facing her after shooting a glare at his cousin, “but if you’re not going to address me as Officer Littrell, just call me Brian. We’re not big on code names in the CIA.”
Emerald rolled her eyes. “If you say so…”
“Keep me posted!” K called to them as he got up from his chair.
“Will do!” Emerald shouted from down the hall, The Rok at her heels. Once they exited his office, K entered his private elevator and descended to a familiar room: Pearl’s laboratory.
“Just in time,” Pearl said as K walked over to the desk, eyes fixed on the large screen. “I just tapped into the surveillance feed in the auditorium.” They watched as everyone in the auditorium danced uniformly as they chanted the chorus to an extremely odd song. “As far as I can tell, Nick is the only one there who’s not affected by the device. If I could just locate it, I could have him shut it down…”
“Well, keep trying…” K told her, peering over her shoulder as she typed furiously on the keyboard in front of her.
“Why do you look so angry?” Jay asked, appearing on Pearl’s left side. “Well, angrier than usual, I should say.”
“I’m not angry…” K scanned the feed for any sign of a disturbance, frowning as he realized how loud the monotonous chanting had become. “Pearl, can you turn that down? I don’t need surround sound to know that something serious is going on in that auditorium.”
Pearl looked up at him and frowned. “The volume is barely on, K. That’s not the feed.”
She and K turned their heads at the same time, their eyes widening at what they saw: Agent Jay chanting and dancing exactly like the crowd in the auditorium.
“Is there any way to stop him?” K asked.
Pearl thought for a minute before she spun back around to her keyboard and began typing in codes and commands that only she and the computer seemed to understand. “Let’s try muting everything…”
Moments later, Jay had returned to his normal state, except for the confused expression on his face as he found himself bent over with his right arm up in the air. “That was some trip…” He stretched, then returned to his seat beside Pearl.
“That was strange even for you,” Pearl commented with a smirk, still typing. “But now we’ve established that the device hypnotizes on an audio frequency… Which feed were you looking at when you went into the trance?” Jay pointed at the feed that showed the area just offstage, where the only things visible were the curtain and the curtain and a soundboard with blinking lights. The soundboard operators were dancing just like the others. After a few more keystrokes, Pearl zoomed in on a close-up of the soundboard. “Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary here…”
“Wait,” Jay said. “Go back.”
“Okay…” A few keystrokes zoomed out the feed. “But why?”
“Mark McGrath isn’t hypnotized.” Jay pointed at Mark’s robotic movements, which didn’t seem any different to K and Pearl than what the others were doing. “He just missed a step and stopped singing for a few seconds.”
Pearl instantly pulled up a close-up of Mark and, in particular, his microphone. “There’s definitely something odd about that microphone. Looks like we’ve found our transmitter.”
“Can you shut it down?” K asked, pulling out his cell phone.
“Of course. Might take me about a minute or so, but now that I know where to look…” As Pearl went to work, K called Emerald and The Rok to tell them to find Mark.
“Make sure he doesn’t get away!” K emphasized to his agent over the phone, hanging up after her reply. He knew that they needed to get Mark back to HimTak and question him about FANS. The more they knew about this new organization, the better.
***
Back in the MGM Grand, Nick tapped his finger on the face of his watch. “There must be some sort of interference, Pearl; you’re coming in and out.”
“Nick,” Pearl’s voice cackled through the static, “it’s Mark… the microphone… transmitter…”
Nick lifted his gaze across the stage just in time to see the show’s host put his hand to a tiny earpiece. As he began pushing buttons on the bottom of his microphone, Pearl’s broken message about a transmitter clicked in Nick’s mind, and he instantly began forming a plan.
After scanning the crowd of hypnotized wannabe pop stars, he began to imitate their robotic dance awkwardly, slowly making his way across the stage. He’d nearly reached his target when the song came to an end, and Mark McGrath turned to the camera with a big smile. “Thank you, Sanjay, for that totally rockin’ performance. Up next, we have Nick Carter returning to the stage.”
Nick froze at the mention of his name. He knew he would never get the chance to make his move if he blew his cover now, so he joined Mark with stiff movements and lifeless eyes.
Many people watched his every move.
Dr. Rough smirked with deep satisfaction as HimTak’s golden boy fell victim to his evil scheme on the screen in front of him. The fact that his biggest threat would now help make the final phase of his brainwashing ploy complete created a sweet taste of unexpected victory.
Drums watched from the shadows above, his mind drifting on a sea of painful, confusing memories.
And agents Jay, K, and Pearl remained frozen, glued to the monitors in fear.
“Turn the sound back on. I want to hear what they’re saying.”
Pearl silently followed Jay’s orders without question. “Okay, Nick, it looks like you have your work cut out for you if you want to come out on top. What song are you going to sing for us tonight?”
Nick gazed mindlessly into the camera. “Thank you, Mr. McGrath.”
Pearl gasped sharply at the complete monotone sound in Nick’s voice. “They’ve gotten to Nick, too!”
Pearl stared worriedly at the screen, but both of her superiors remained calm, aside from the single glance they shot each other. K pulled his phone from his pocket and thumbed down to the number for Emerald.
“Tonight I will be singing ‘Mambo Number Five.’”
Again, Pearl gasped.
“You okay?” Jay asked.
K looked up from his phone. “What? What is it?”
“Mambo Number Five!” Pearl screamed with excitement.
K raised an eyebrow and stared at Jay, hoping he could explain her crazy behavior.
“Mambo Number Five!” she yelled again. “Mambo Number Five!”
As she shouted, Nick robotically took the microphone from Mark. “One, two, three, four, five,” he chanted.
Jay gritted his teeth as Nick sang robotically, wary of the performance. But Pearl had regained her hope, giggling at her friend on the screen in front of her; this would definitely be blackmail material.
During Nick’s horrible robot dance, he managed to flip the switch on the bottom of the mic, turning the transmitter off.
When Jay caught the maneuver, he grinned with pride. “You sly dog.”
Relaxing, Pearl grinned at Jay and sat back with a sigh of relief, but K’s gaze never left the screen. He watched and waited, and, sure enough, the effects of the mind control began to wear off slowly.
The longer Nick sang, the more he began to slip into the role and enjoy himself. His voice hit the notes perfectly, and his movements became energetically playful. “I like Angela, Pamela, Sandra, and Rita! And as I continue, you know they’re getting sweeter!”
Soon, Nick had all but forgotten the mission, carried away in the song. Meanwhile, realization dawned on Mark, and he dove at Nick. For a split second, he overpowered the distracted Nick, knocking him to the floor. After prying the microphone from Nick’s hands, Mark turned the transmitter back on.
Regaining his senses, Nick leaped to his feet and hooked Mark in the jaw. Staggering, Mark wound up to throw a punch in return, but Nick dodged, then jabbed Mark’s chest. For every hit Mark landed, Nick countered with five. Blow for blow, Nick’s skill and training won out over Mark’s lucky shots.
Drums swooped down from the rafters on a rope and killed the power to the TV cameras.
For a moment, Pearl gaped at the black feed, then quickly tapped into one of the hotel’s security cameras — just in time to see Nick knock Mark out cold. The microphone rolled across the stage.
Nick scrambled to his feet, rushing to catch it, but a much worthier opponent blocked his victory when he reached the mic. For a brief moment, he looked into the eyes of his old friend, overcome with guilt. Drums’ good eye narrowed, and he used Nick’s hesitation to his advantage, knocking Nick to the ground with a force that snatched his breath.
Nick rolled back onto his hands, kicking his feet into the air, and flipped himself upright into a squat. When he stood, Nick kicked, and Drums retreated a few steps to avoid the threat. Nick pulled both fists toward his chest into an unmistakable stance — 00Carter was pissed and about to kick some serious ass. Drums matched his stance. Each remained eerily still, daring the other to make the first move. With their history, this fight, this showdown, had higher stakes than a victory for HimTak or FANS. It stirred up their rivalry, muddling it with betrayal and animosity.
“I nevah thought it would end up dis way…”
“Drums–” Nick started, but before he could finish, Drums lunged at him and swung his fist, knocking them both to the ground.
Hitting. Flipping. Kicking. Choking. The fighting within their heap was a chaotic mess of movement; anything they could do to prevent the other from getting the transmitter. After finally prying the microphone from Drums’ hand, Nick smashed it, sending a million tiny pieces across the stage.
And yet, their fight continued; the fallen transmitter was merely a means to an end. The two old comrades flew at one another in a battle that would make Muhammad Ali nervous. Each punch released a frenzied emotional fury that would have continued forever if their bodies could have sustained the damage.
As they panted for breath and wiped the blood from their faces, Nick stared into Drums’ hate-filled eye, finally snapping from distress. “Why?”
Drums flinched backward, caught off-guard by the pain in Nick’s voice. He couldn’t believe that Nick felt betrayed; HimTak… no, his family hadn’t abandoned him!
“How could you do it? I’m sorry you had to leave the agency, but how could you go to work for them?” Nick went on. “Can’t you see you’re on the wrong side?” Drums barely seemed human anymore with the cold, dead machinery covering the scar from that awful day. “Drums… Justin… Tell me who’s done this to you.”
“You know damn well who did dis ta me!” Drums snarled. “And you deserve ta die fo’ shooting yo’ brotha!”
Overcome by guilt, Nick shrank into himself as a million solutions raced through his mind. Was there any way to convince Drums that it was an accident? His hand wasn’t steady; he missed. But Drums would definitely be dead if Nick hadn’t fired. More dead than he already was.
Drums took advantage of the momentary vulnerability and pounced on him, punching Nick’s cheek rapidly. Between the speed and the precision, Nick could barely see; it seemed Drums wanted an eye for an eye.
“Nick!”
Startled by the murmurs of the confused crowd and the familiar voice, Drums catapulted himself backward, vanishing in the sea of bodies. In the same instant, Diamond burst through it and fell at Nick’s side.
***