[Fan Fiction] Big O Parallel Universe

yes Tesser-sama,

once again your writing is like the mighty samurai sword, disembowling readers with its sharpness and perfection, leaving them in a pathetic heap of gore and innards on the floor...

*gong sounds*

anyway, i guess this is the policy until patty can get the site back up, just post it here i guess


thats cool

Thanks, but I've been dissatisfied with my writing lately. Although the quality of act 3 is slightly better than the first two. Finally got into the swing of writing it, I think.

I'm at the part of Angel driving by and leaving Roxanne to face off with the monster all by herself. Nice guy (he's such a smeghead).

i can understand

it was kinda difficult for me to get into the minds of the charcters, mainly because thier the opposite sex, i imagine at first it must be easier to write for Roger, rather than Roxanne, at least for me, because even though she is based on Roger, she's still her own creation, and it was kinda hard for me to figure what those values and motivations were, it coming around for me and all,but the same goes for Dorian, and the rest of those cats

i dunno, i dont think what i just said had any relevence...

ooo a milkbone

*gnaws away*

"[I later learned the story of 'The Steadfast Tin Soldier' from an old friend who remembered fairy tales. The soldier was part of a set of tin soldier toys, him being the last made and there was not enough tin to finish him so he was one-legged. He fell in love with a ballerina from a playset, thinking she, too, had only one leg due to her ballet pose. However, she had fallen in love with his loyalty enough to overlook his incomplete being. In the end, both had perished in the fireplace - he melting into a heart-shaped lump of tin and the ribbon from her costume entwining that heart.]"

Mmmm? That's also the Nutcracker right? and I love how "The Steadfast Tin Soldier" replaces the Nightingale and fits perfectly for Dorian.

Oh and does the Tin Soldier's story foreshadow anything?

Heh heh heh

Hans Christian Anderson story. They have it in Fantasia 2000. Yeah, I think the ballarina and the soldier thing does confuse it. ^_^

As for foreshadowing ... you'll just have to see ...

RISE FWROM YOUR GWRAVE!!!!!!

Wow where has this been?

anyway, just wanted remind all your lovely people about this whole project, the whole switched gender roles and whatnot

(im also wondering where the hell are the rest of the staff members? Rouge? Sixtyfortyfive? Jinguj? heloooooooooooooo)

if ANYONE wants to contribute thier efforts,(writer,artist,etc) then just pm me or Lady Tesser....

well here to hoping it will turn out ok

*cheers*

ERG, my deepest apologies! I've been stuck at the same place for over a month now!

Transcribing from episodes is harder than you think ...

Where is everyone?

Sixfortyfive? (WebMasterGod of RP's homepage.)
JinguJ? (Superb artist of Act 1.)
Rouge? (Currently working artist of Act 2.)
pen1300? (Original story writer.)

Anyone still interested in Reciprocal Paradigm?

Act 3 is complete. A little clean up tomorrow and then it'll be up.

Any of the new members are welcomed to help out on this project.

veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrry goooooooooooood.
Now I have some manga's, so the storyline makes a bit more sense.
I'm eager to see how Act 3 starts... And much Roxanne may sleep in..
keep up the work!
I'd help in anything you want.. But i'm a horrible artist and doubt I'm good for anything else.

Here we go, loveys! Act 3 in all it's glory!

* * *Big O Reciprocal Paradigm
Act 3: "Electric City"
Text by Lady Tesser

The shrill cry of an electric guitar screamed through the house, followed by a voice screeching a yell from the depths of the soul.

Roxanne sat straight up, blankets and sheets and pillows exploding off the bed.

"Huh-who-what-where-Norman-huh-huh - "

The electric guitar continued playing, dropping into a grinding beat like a desperate lover. A few seconds later, a teenage boy's voice followed:

"Night after night
I have come to depend on this
Ever so gently your whispers
have turned into screams
I'm lying here in a
crystalline dreaming
Of what could never, never, never-ever, never ever be
There's a tree outside my window
and as its leaves fall to the ground
I wonder if their souls are lost
or are they found?"

Roxanne leapt out of bed, pillow in hand, and stomped to the door of her bedroom. She slammed it open, staring into the common room where Dorian - looking ever so prim in his butler's uniform - was playing raucously on his emerald green electric guitar as he sang:

"As the flowers scream
'Why don't you look at me?
We try to make the world
as pretty as it can be
But now we're starting to get so sick of it,
sick of it
sick of it all'!"

"Dorian!" Roxanne called over the guitar's driving notes.

He dove into the next verse, his voice flowing like honey through the words:

"Softly the stranger begins
to scratch and to crawl
Into my bed of roses
and magnolias
He's trying to cling to
their scent or their essence
Or whatever makes them
so beautiful to me - "

"R. DORIAN WAYNERIGHT!" Roxanne shrieked as she slammed the pillow over his head.

The voice and guitar both stopped, as Dorian - the pillow around his neck like a collar - turned to her. "It is past noon, Roxanne Smith, and you would not wake up. I decided that I will wake you up in this manner from now on."

Roxanne muttered something profane, then added, "I sleep however long I want, Dorian!"

He cocked his head, studying her. "Aren't you cold in that, Roxanne?"

Roxanne looked down at her sleeping clothes which consisted of a 'sports' bra and black panties. She blushed and looked back up at him. "None of your business!"

"Roxanne Smith, your crudeness has a negative impact on my perception - "

"Shut up, Dorian ... " She rubbed her shoulders. "Damn, it is cold!" She turned to go back in her bedroom, muttering more profanities.

As she shut the door, she leaned against it and grumbled, "Stupid android telling me I'm a negative influence ... "

* * *

Dorian brought a tray with Roxanne's coffee and morning chocolate to her in her office space.

Her office was an impressively elegant area, a large glossy-laquered executive desk taking up most of the partitioned space, the surface lined with several snowglobes of various sizes and artfully sculptured scenes within the crystal and glass spheres.

Roxanne sat behind her desk, clad in her work clothes, save the jacket and tie. A few buttons of her blouse were undone, showing a hint of cleavage. Her hair was pulled back from her face but not wrapped up in the bun, making her appear quite feminine.

Dorian decided she was quite pretty this way, as she worked on a report, a pen tucked behind her ear and her lips parted softly.

He placed the coffee before her and she gave a perfunctory nod, not even looking at him. She lifted the cup and took a sip -

Her face almost turned blue as it contorted in disgust. She spat the coffee back in the cup and made a sign of warding she had learned from Dani when she was in the Military Police. She added in a low moan, "Too sweeeeeeeeeet ... "

Instead, she grabbed a piece of chocolate and popped it in her mouth.

Dorian sighed. At least she was getting her sugar-energy from somewhere ...

The phone rang.

Since Norma was busy in the kitchen, Dorian took it upon himself to answer the phone.

"Hello, Smith residence."

'Hello, is Roxanne Smith around? This is Darren McCray.'

"Please hold." He placed his hand over the receiver. "Roxanne, there is a man calling himself Darren McCray asking for you."

Roxanne continued working, taking the pen from behind her ear and writing something. "Tell him I'm not here. He's such a creep."

Dorian removed his hand. "She says she's not here and you're such a creep."

Roxanne snapped her head up and slapped her palm to her forehead as Dorian hung up the phone.

"R. DORIAN WAYNERIGHT!"

Dorian looked up at her.

Roxanne closed her eyes, feeling beads of sweat popping out on her forehead. "Why do you do these things to me?" she whispered.

"Do what?" he asked plaintively.

She got up and rounded the desk to stare him eye-to-eye, her finger in his face. "YOU PLAY THAT DAMN GUITAR FIRST THING IN THE MORNING - "

"It was noon. I've explained my reasons."

"YOU PUT SUGAR IN MY COFFEE AGAIN - "

"Black coffee isn't good for you."

"AND LOOK, DORIAN, WHEN I SAY 'TELL THEM I'M NOT HERE' - "

"You didn't tell me NOT to say that."

"DON'T TELL THEM 'SHE SAYS SHE'S NOT HERE, YOU'RE SUCH A CREEP'!"

He stared down at her, no longer taller than him without her stiletto heels. "Are you angry, Roxanne?"

"AND ... " Roxanne inhaled deeply. She sighed and tucked back a loose strand of black hair that had escaped during her rant. "It's not your fault, Dorian. You never lie, and you do what you're told - and some things you aren't told - "

Dorian bowed his head contritely. "Do you wish me to act more human, Roxanne?"

She looked up at him, then leaned against the desk and giggled. "Why? You only mimic human behavior, it doesn't mean you really are. It's the same with your guitar playing - you're only doing an empty imitation and that's why it's pointless to play because there's nothing behind it. Why bother?"

He gave her a level, expressionless gaze until the lights flickered out.

"Damn," she mumbled in the darkness. "Norma?!"

"I'm lighting the candles now, Mistress Roxanne," Norma's voice answered. "I'll switch over to the emergency generators in a moment."

A mechanical sliding sound occurred and suddenly the office area was bathed in halogen light.

Roxanne looked at the source of the light - Dorian. Specifically his headband that had popped out of his forehead and was now illuminating the room. "Go on," he said. "You can continue your work."

Roxanne sighed. "What a way to run a railroad."

"I beg your pardon?" Dorian asked.

Roxanne shook her head, going back around to her desk. "Nothing. An old expression I once came across in a book."

Norma appeared by a partition, a hurricane lamp in hand, the flame glowing brightly. "Oh, my," she giggled primly. "Look at that."

"Why aren't the generators on, Norma?" Roxanne asked.

"I was on my way to start them when I got distracted. Mistress Roxanne, someone wishes to see you."

"I'm busy, Norma."

"But he insisted he must see you for business reasons ... " The old woman smirked. "And I think you may find him fascinating."

Roxanne looked up, her smirk casting a deep shadow. "I see. I'll finish getting dressed, then." She got up and dashed across the house to her room in complete darkness.

Dorian turned to Norma as she placed the lamp on Roxanne's desk. "What was that about, Norma?"

Norma smiled knowingly. "Mistress Roxanne always prefers to see people on business. Come along, Mr. Dorian, I could use your light in the kitchen."

"Yes, Norma."

He followed her out.

* * *

When Roxanne returned to her office space, a male figure stood silhouetted by the candlelight. Tall, nicely shaped, clad in a smartly-cut brown suit with dark hair combed back from a dusky face. He was holding one of the snowglobes, one with an ornately sculpted castle within the crystal sphere, and watching the glitter swirl around and catch the light from the lamp.

Roxanne smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from her suit, patted the back of her upswept hair, and entered the office area. The heavy scent of an expensive cologne filled the small area as she approached him.

"You must know," she began. "That I only allow handsome young men in my ... private residence. I'm - "

"I know who you are, Miss Negotiator," he said, his voice silky with an accent she could not place. He placed the snowglobe down and turned to face her, his black eyes sweeping over her body before resting on her face. "Roxanne Smith, Paradigm City's top negotiator. Your reputation precedes you."

Roxanne felt her stomach knot. This man was gorgeous, even with the rose-tinted glasses he wore, his dark eyes gazed over the frames and smoldered as they locked to her brown. "I have good PR. I didn't catch your name, sweetheart."

He smirked, pulling a business card from inside his jacket. "Casey Valesquez. I'm on contract with Power Management to oversee an investigation."

Roxanne looked over his card. "So, you're with the Paradigm Group, hm? There have been a lot of power outages lately. Haven't there, Mr. Valesquez?"

"Do you have any idea where we get our electricity from, Ms. Smith?"

Roxanne returned his gaze with a blank stare. Quite frankly, it never occurred to her.

The power flickered back on.

"So, how may I be of help?" Roxanne asked.

* * *

The Griffon sped over the large bridge connecting Paradigm City to the mainland, Roxanne Smith in deep thought as she drove.

[I was hired to see to it that a hydroelectric powerplant that had remained unused was brought back online.
It's only natural to ask yourself 'Why a Negotiator?'
The residents of Electric City - the rundown town where the plant is located - were apparently obstructing the power company trying to 'redevelop' the area.
Why did I take this job, anyway?]

The scenery changed as she floored the accelerator - a dull, lifeless gray landscape outside the windows. Ahead of her, the unknown mountain range loomed in the constant mist.

[It's not like me. It's not normal. I would never tackle a job from Paradigm - the firm that just happens to rule this city.
Electric-supplied efficiencies ... let Paradigm worry about it. It's not like they care if there's a steady supply of electricity outside the domes.
So, why? I wonder why?]

Roxanne flashed back on that afternoon, when she had seen Casey Valesquez to his taxi. He turned, his black eyes gazing over the frames of his glasses, staring into her brown eyes. 'I'm well-aware of your reputation ... ' he said, his silky voice tinged with an unvoiced flirtatious chuckle. 'Roxanne the Negotiator.'

She hated to admit it, but something about handsome men with smoldering eyes turned her into a puddle. Very unprofessional of her.

* * *

It was nightfall by the time Roxanne arrived in Electric City, driving over the dam's roadway, her headlights illuminating the welcome sign.

She turned off the Griffon and got out, looking around the quiet, dark skyline of the city. She looked down at her clothes - black pantsuit, sensible shoes - and straightened her tie in the chill evening air.

"Now, where's the power plant?" she asked aloud, her breath clouding up the air. She gazed across the reservoir toward the control towers. "Right there."

Roxanne found the gate to the tower.

It was also chained up pretty securely with a large rusted lock.

She poked the lock with a gloved fingertip. "Whoever chained this up - umph!"

A barrel pressed into the center of her back followed by the sound of a clicking rifle.

" - Must have hated electricity," she finished, raising her hands in the air.

* * *

[I don't know if Electric City was the name of this place before the plant's existence.
It would be ironic, that's for sure.]

Roxanne Smith stood in the center of a group of locals, their large coats and encompassing caps warding off the chill of the night. Several held lanterns, their flames flickering in the dimness, while others kept their rifles trained on her.

"What's the matter?" Roxanne demanded to the group.

None replied.

"Hey, doesn't anyone here understand me?"

"We understand you," a man's harsh voice answered. "Call us 'primitives', if you like."

Roxanne listened to their story.

* * *

[God will rain down his lightning of wrath.
Now, I'm no atheist, but I'm also not naive. They expect me to believe that there's a God here that gives off electricity when it's angry??]

Roxanne walked along the walkways around the dam, thinking to herself. She glanced up at the control tower and noted a light was on - and there was a shadow of a figure within.

She gripped the guiderails and leaned over, squinting to see who it may be within. The figure rushed passed the windows, and all was suddenly dark within.

[There's no sign that the tunnels leading there have been destroyed.]

She gazed along the rise above the dam's edge, her eyes following up a ridge to a house.

[It's connected underground?]

* * *

Roxanne trudged her way up the steep slope leading to the cabin she had seen.

"Aw, smeg," she muttered to herself. "If I'd known it'd be like this, I would've brought Dorian along; he could have made himself useful by lighting up the path."

Her thoughts drifted to Dorian and Norma at the mansion; Norma probably throwing some wild party with her bridge buddies and Dorian providing the loud music.

She kicked snow out of her way as the path leveled off and she approached the clearing of the cabin and its out-buildings. A single window was lit up, showing no movement within.

She carefully cat-pawed her way to the building, keeping low to the ground. Her dark brows knotted over her eyes as she peered through the woodbin and spied a stairway leading down to a basement of some sort.

Roxanne pulled a mag light out of her pocket and shined it down into the stairway. The light illuminated large bootprints in the snow, leading right under the bolted door.

"This is it," she murmured. She moved her foot to step down into the stairway, but the sound of someone approaching behind her stayed her movement. Instead, she sighed and raised her hands again. "It's not my style to carry a gun," she assured the person behind her. "I don't like being slugged from behind, either, so let's cut to the chase - OOF!"

The butt of a rifle slammed into the back of her large hairbun, making everything go black.

The last thing she was aware of hearing was her sunglasses clacking against the cement of the stairway.

* * *

Roxanne was not really surprised to be tied up in a chair. A bit miffed, but not surprised. She knew better than to keep her back to her confronter. As she had told Norma before, she expected people and criminals to both behave in a professional manner.

The cabin itself was simple and cozy. A fire burned in an old iron stove while many of the items suggested a single person was in residence.

The person came in, struggling with two large buckets of water.

Roxanne almost felt insulted. She had been overtaken by a frail old man.

"You sure like to sleep in, don'cha, lady?" the old man grumbled as he put the buckets down and pressed the door shut.

Roxanne closed her eyes and smirked, her fingers discreetly working on the knots. "I have a difficult time waking up without a guitar screaming me awake."

The old man attempted to pick the buckets up again. "It figures - Paradigm hired themselves a lazy princess." He struggled. "Nothin' but a loafer."

He made another bold attempt at lifting the buckets. Roxanne's gloved hands reached out and took the handles.

"I may be a loafer," Roxanne commented dryly as she picked up the water buckets without effort. "But I'm not so impolite as to not help my elders."

She carried them across the cabin, offering a silent thanks to Dorian for making her realize she needed to work out her upper body. It was beginning to pay off, although she still could not pick him up without grunting.

The old man glanced at her chair, seeing the ropes tied in several elaborate bows.

Roxanne placed a bucket down and went to pouring one into the large tub. "Besides, I don't work with Paradigm, anyway. They give me a rash."

* * *

Several minutes later, the old man was seated at the table, scowling into a cup of freshly brewed coffee while two plates on the table held strips of bacon.

Roxanne was at the stove, out of her jacket, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up, and an apron over her shirt and trousers. She stirred eggs around in the cast iron pan. "If you don't mind me saying, my scrambled eggs are pretty good."

The old man snorted. "Cooking is supposed to be women's work; comes natural."

Roxanne laughed. "It took me five years to learn how to boil water - for me, this is gourmet cooking." She stirred the eggs more quickly as they congealed. "By the way, what are you doing up here? How come you don't live with the others down in town?"

"That's really none of your concern," he replied gruffly.

Roxanne turned the heat off and picked the pan up, scraping scrambled egg onto the two plates. "Well, guess I'm not doing such a good job as a negotiator. To tell you the truth, I asked purely out of curiosity." She placed the pan down. "Please, dig in."

The old man eyed her suspiciously, then pulled his plate in front of himself and stirred the eggs around a little with a spoon. He ate a spoonful, carefully chewing, then reached for the pepper, sprinkling some on.

Roxanne grinned and sat across from him, taking the pepper from him and pouring twice as much on her own. The old man gave her a grim smile as she began to eat.

* * *

Roxanne had cleaned up the kitchen area and was back in her double-breasted jacket, cup of coffee in one hand and popping a chocolate in her mouth with the other.

She gazed out the window to the backyard, seeing the old man chopping wood in the snow. He paused every now and again, hitting his back to work out a kink or sore spot.

She could appreciate what he did, living off the land as it were, taking care of his own survival. And yet he was so old, edging the line into fragility, and he still worked.

Roxanne finished her coffee and put the cup down, making her way across the cabin to the door -

When the floorboards cracked instead of creaked in one spot.

She paused, turning around to see what it was. A rug covered the floor. She shoved her hands in her pockets and nonchalantly went to tapping the floor with her shoe.

Yes, one spot creaked differently than the rest.

She tore away the rug and found a trap door. Carefully, she lifted up the handle - found it well-used - and pulled up the trap, discovering a stairway. She crouched down on the first few steps, taking in the room below.

It appeared to be a lab. Notes and equipment and many things she did not recognized lay scattered about, as if something had exploded within the lab.

"What's all this?" she breathed.

She continued down into the lab and picked up a clipboard, the precise handwriting neatly detailing a biological study. "This is no ordinary facility," she said to herself. A piece of paper floated out of the clipboard papers and she knelt down to pick it up.

Turning over the paper revealed a photograph of the old man at a much younger age, wearing a lab coat and seated before a tank.

Roxanne glanced at the tank itself, now only shattered remains of glass and metal.

Quite suddenly, the sound of capacitors filled the room, and an electrical surge bounced from equipment to equipment.

Roxanne dropped the clipboard and picture. "Hey, wait!" she exclaimed. "I didn't touch anything! What's going on - did somebody connect the power?"

She raced up the stairs and dashed out of the cabin, finding the old man standing on the bluff which stared out over the dam.

A soulful mourn filled the air, calling out across the water and echoing over the reservoir.

"Old man!" Roxanne called. "The power - " she gasped, hearing the wail.

"Somebody started the turbines," the old man stated. He turned to her, his eyes flashing. He gripped the lapels of her jacket. "You had friends here, didn't you?!"

"No," Roxanne replied firmly, gripping his wrists. "I came here on my own. I'm not working with anyone."

Both made their way to the outside stairwell, finding the doorlock broken and a different pair of bootprints in the snow going into the depths.

"This guy's good," Roxanne commented.

"I have to stop the turbines," the old man announced. "If I don't hurry, something terrible's goin' to happen!"

Roxanne gripped his shoulder, her fingers digging into his skin. "I suggest you leave this to me, old man. Whoever did this is a professional - a pro researcher like yourself should understand. Jobs should be left to the professionals ... wouldn't you agree?"

He stared back at her, then nodded his head a quarter of an inch.

* * *

The footsteps made their way down a wet pipe-lined corridor, echoing softly. The flashlight remained steady, never sweeping, indicating the carrier was sure of their solitude.

Roxanne's flashlight clicked on, blinding the individual. He covered his eyes with a leather gloved hand.

"I was right," she remarked. "I knew that cologne scent."

The man's eyes adjusted, peering back at her. Roxanne was somewhat surprised to see this individual as he was now - his black hair flowing over his face down to his chin, one smoldering eye and part of a smirk peeking from the hair. He was clad in a pair of dark leather trousers, white shirt, and a long brown leather duster.

Roxanne smirked, patting the back of her hair. "Although the look does suit you, Mr. Valesquez." Her smirk changed to a frown. "You were just using me, weren't you?"

He tossed his hair back, which fell back into his face again, and smiled charmingly. He approached her. "Not bad, Miss Negotiator. Thanks to you, I was able to find the route."

Roxanne raised an eyebrow. "I thought I told you I don't take jobs from untrustworthy clients."

"You've already done what I wanted you to do - and then some." He pulled her sunglasses out of his beltclip.

"So, let me take a guess," Roxanne stated. "You're not with Power Management, are you, Mister?"

"Call me ... Angel," he replied, his soft accent making the name slip off his tongue. He pushed the sunglasses down into the breast pocket of her jacket. He chuckled flirtatiously.

"Well, a 'fallen' angel," Roxanne commented.

The corridor filled with the wailing again, echoing against the walls and down into the darkness. On the feet of the cry an electrical surge whined, filling one end of the tunnel with bright blue light.

Roxanne instinctively dropped to the ground, pulling Angel down with her, just as multiple strands of electric bolts shot down the tunnel over their heads.

Angel looked up, a puzzled expression on his face.

Roxanne's brows knitted together. "The wrath of God."

The corridor shook. The cement lining cracked, followed by pipes buckling under pressure. The tunnel filled with spraying water from the cracks and pipes.

"Let's GO!" Roxanne ordered as she pulled Angel up with her and dashed down the tunnel to the outside.

"Why is this happening?" he asked. "All I did was reactivate the turbines!"

"You know," Roxanne snapped. "Maybe there was a reason they were off in the first place?!"

Both ran up the stairs and to the bluff, looking out over the reservoir.

"Where'd the old man go to?" she asked, looking around.

"Huh, what old man?" Angel asked, brushing his hair back form his face. His eyes widened and he pointed across the water.

A series of lights swam beneath the surface in formation - or perhaps all were part of the same thing. Their bright yellow composition seemed almost organic.

Another mournful wail filled the air.

Down below in the city, the citizens of Electric City watched in horror.

"What the hell - "
"Oh, no, he's started up the turbines!"
"What has he done?"

The water churned as a large object began to surface, the sky darkening over in response. Lighting flashed across the sky.

"What is that?" Angel demanded. "Nobody said anything about this!"

"That lab ... " Roxanne murmured to herself. "That giant tank ... "

A serpent broke the water, its long neck raising its head up into the sky. The mouth opened, revealing brush-like teeth.

"What is it?"

"Angel, shut up!" Roxanne ordered.

Lightning struck the creature's mouth, until it became clear the creature was actually drawing the electricity from around the dam and the air.

Angel took off down the slope.

"Hey, where are you going?!" Roxanne yelled.

"This thing is none of my business!" Angel replied, his duster flying in his dash toward the dam's main road. "MY job is over!"

"Wait - it's dangerous down there!"

"I have a car and it's damned fast!"

Roxanne snorted as he disappeared. "Running like the little boy coward you are." She pulled the sleeve back from her wrist and yelled into her watch, "Big O!"

The Prairie Dog sped through the underground tunnels toward Electric City's dam.

'As you instructed, ma'am,' Norma's voice stated from the watch. 'I shipped it over last night. It should arrive in ... fifteen seconds.'

"Thanks, Norma," Roxanne replied, running down the pathway and across the dam's roadway.

A car honked behind her and a bronze-colored muscle car meant for speed pulled up alongside her. Angel smirked as he winked at her. "If you survive, let's get together sometime, cara mia."

His car screeched off down the road.

"I'm really beginning to hate that guy," Roxanne grumbled as she continued running. "Well, this is it!"

She hitched herself over the dam railing, spreading her arms and legs out as she dove belly first toward water.

"BIG O - SHOWTIME!"

Below, the black palm of a giant robot awaited her ...

* * *

Angel sped down the road, feeling a bit of guilt for leaving Roxanne behind. He did his job, there was nothing else left for him to do. After all, Roxanne Smith was just another tool in his work ...

"Oh, well, plenty of fish in the sea - " The one eye visible from behind his hair widened in surprise as a monstrous head moved alongside his car.

Electricity buzzed around the creature's mouth. Angel responded by slamming his foot down on the gas, attempting to reach the landside before the creature got any ideas of what to do with him.

Angel did not anticipate the lighting bolt shooting from the creature's mouth toward his car.

Despite a series of expertly manipulated side-skids and evasive maneuvers, the bolt struck, sending the energy through the car. Angel yelled in pain as the vehicle was engulfed in blue electricity.

As the charge began to weaken, the engine died and the car slowly came to a rest. Angel slumped onto the steering wheel, panting. He pulled his head up and tried to start the car again, only to find it not responding to both pleading and wheel-beating.

Angel turned to his passenger window, seeing the monster with the eel-like face peering at him, readying another strike. Angel's eyes flashed and he crawled out of his door's window, gun pulled out and cocked.

"I don't care if you ARE a God - YOU RUINED MY CAR YOU @$%&*$%@* - "

[BLAM!]

The monster roared, releasing a barrage of electrical bolts toward him.

"SMEG!"

Angel tumbled out of the window and rolled off toward the snowy earth just as his car became a mass of molten metal.

"My car!" he cried.

A giant black and purple robot emerged from the water, its feminine shape highlighted by the flashing storm overhead.

"Megadeus?" Angel breathed. "What are you doing here?"

***

'CAST IN THE NAME OF GOD, YE NOT GUILTY'

Roxanne popped a chocolate kiss in her mouth as Big O finished the start-up procedures.

"Action!" She caressed then gripped the controls firmly, staring at the monster across the water. "God or not, you aren't friendly either way."

Outside, the sky was pitch black and the sound of thunder rolled as the two giants stared each other down.

"What is that?" the townspeople whispered as they watched.
"That black giant over there," another pointed.

The sea creature reared up on its body, electricity running the length of its body as it gathered more energy from the power ports along the dam.

"So, now I understand," Roxanne murmured to herself. "How this little dam could supply such a huge power supply. Your almighty power is man-made - that figures."

A moanful cry filled the air and the serpent lunged at the black Megadeus, mouth open. Big O side-stepped the attack and backpedaled; Roxanne gasped in excitement.

"Well, my dear - REST IN PEACE!"

The monster reared up again and lunged as Big O swung away; she nailed the serpent right in the head with her massive fist. The serpent's body went limp from shock, creating a giant splash as it fell into the water. Roxanne smirked but her expression quickly changed as the creature failed to come from the water.

"Where are you - "

A giant splash blinded Big O's view sensors.

"What the - "

Roxanne heard a loud groaning and looked to her viewscreen; much to her horror, the serpent has wrapped its body around the robot's body. It began squeezing and pulsing electricity into the Megadeus.

Electricity sparked through the cockpit of Big O. Roxanne screamed as the electricity ran through her body.

The monster raised its head and opened its mouth, bringing it down over the head of Big O, trying to devour the Megadeus.

"All right then!"

Roxanne reached for a button on the control console, even though the electricity made her muscles uncontrollably twitch in response.

"If I fire my Chromebuster now - YAAAH!"

Her finger stopped short of pressing as she saw her monitor display a small object in the waters below.

It appeared to be the old man in a rubber suit, rowing his way across the water.

"What's the old man doing out there??"

Along the shores, the population of Electric City also wondered.

"Old man!"
"Where is - "
"What is he - "

The old man hopped up to a ladder, climbing up to the tower.

"Now I get it!" Roxanne exclaimed. "He's shutting it down!"

Big O's hands wrestled with the creature's body, trying to buy time for the old man.

The power began to die down around them, the surge of electricity in the air fading away.

The monster's body darkened as the energy fell way, revealing reddish and green scaled flesh. Its grip also became less powerful, the mouth slightly pulling back -

"NOW!" Roxanne shrieked, hitting the button.

Big O's fists raised in the air, the Chromebuster in her ornate helmet powering up. The fists slammed together before her chest, releasing as a wide laser of white light tearing straight down the eel-body of the monster, shredding its flesh and causing the stored energy to rain down on the city.

Every window in every building of the city lit up, every street light, every surface beamed with energy.

"That is the city's true form!" one of the townspeople breathed. "That means that the legend is real! It ... was ... a Titan! It's true!"

Roxanne exhaled, smiling gently as she gazed at the glowing city. She reached up to touch her hair, finding it stiffly standing up in places.

* * *

Angel folded up his walkie-talkie, grinning in the direction of the female-shaped Megadeus. He blew a kiss toward the robot and vanished into the banks of snow behind the dam.

* * *

[I left the area after first destroying the power plant so it could never be reactivated again.
That was my way of concluding negotiations - negotiations with the old man and the monster that he just happened to create.
A man-made Titan that gives off electricity.
It was unfortunate that Sven Moresky -that old scientist - had memories that created that artificial life form.
It looks like Paradigm retrieved a sample from that monster, but I really doubt they'll go to the trouble of creating another one again.]

* * *

Roxanne stood at the windows of her mansion, staring outside at nothing while she wore her ratty old black robe that Dorian had once mentioned does not even deserve to be used as oil rags.

She was brought out of her thoughts when Dorian began playing a blues riff on his guitar. She turned to gaze at him as his body swayed and his fingers danced over the strings.

"How many times do I have to tell you that's it's pointless to just imitate us?" she asked plainly.

Dorian continued playing but without the exaggerated body and hand movements, staring at her intently from between strands of auburn bangs.

"Anyway," Roxanne continued, unwrapping a piece of chocolate. "How come you're playing the blues?"

"Even I sometimes feel like playing them," Dorian explained. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

His eyes glanced at the ashtray on the table, holding the torn up business card of Casey Valesquez, then met her eyes again.

"Feel like it?" Roxanne repeated. "Fine, if you say so."

She turned her back to him as Dorian murmured, "I'm simply too hip for the room."

[We Have Come to Terms]

* * *

Shot of ring-dial phone on desk, snowglobes in the background. The phone rings ... once ... twice ...
Roxanne's gloved hand reaches over and picks up the receiver, the cord dangling.
A woman's voice - abused from years of whiskey drinking and cigarette smoking - says:

"Underground Terror"

Lady Tesser, you still got that touch.

Excellent work, I loved it.

Well, that was quite a labor of love, Lady T. I'm impressed with your careful attention to the details of each episode.

Pygmalion

Great job, Lady Tesser!

Very impressed, by the detail as well. I love the idea of useing an electric gutiar instead of the piano to wake up the negotiator in the morning. At this rate the kid'll be playing Metallica by the end of the show.

Whew, thanks, guys - I really appreciate it. My artists and Six-chan the webmaster seem to have lives (must be nice ^_^), so it's back to posting the text on the site.

I REALLY need to look into having my own website ... any suggestions for a technological luddite? PM me, please.

i really do hope the kids come back

that was a nice collection of talent....

i've been a lazy fuzzball, time i pick up some slack

anyway, this is a one-shot for Michelle Seeback, takes place between Act 3 and Act 4, so yea, if you need something to put you to sleep,you've found it

oh, yea, Thanks to the mighty Lady Tesser for being editor


Reciprocal Paradigm:



Act 3.5: "The Chosen"

Text by C.R Foxhound


"Michelle Seebach, you've done it again!"

Lawrence Holmes, the middle-aged, slightly graying lead editor of The Paradigm Press chuckled so hard, his belly, which drooped considerably over his belt, seemed to shake like a bowl of fresh gelatin under his white shirt and brown suspenders. He placed Michelle's report on his desk.

"How do you do it, Michelle?"

Michelle Seebach beamed with pride. Her smile seemed to stretch all the way to her ears. "Eh, just talent I suppose."

Lawrence rose from his chair. Despite his large frame, he was a short man. He waddled from behind his desk towards the office door behind Michelle.

"Well your talent is what's keeping this newspaper alive - " Lawrence opened the door and stuck his head out. "- Unlike the other crap being made by the losers, prima donnas and morons in this place!!" he shouted, eliciting a not-so-favorable response. He slammed the door and turned to Michelle.

"Take the day off, Michelle, you earned it."

Michelle smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

"No - thank you," he replied.

* * *

Michelle left The Paradigm Press, putting on her brown trench coat and taking her purse.

She refused offers from colleagues for parties and whatnot with her smile. But as she was walking home, her smile disappeared. Her once present confidence bled away, her quick steps turned to shuffles, and her taut shoulders now slumped.

Michelle Seebach needed a drink.

She found a nearby pub and went inside. Much like she expected, the place was crowded, and the air pungent with both stale and fresh alcohol and cigarette smoke.

Michelle sat down on a stool at the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender placed a small glass filled with ice and poured in a silky smooth brown liquid. The bartender nodded and attended to other patrons.

While waiting for her drink to cool, Michelle pulled out a pack of cigarettes, put one on her lips, lit it, and inhaled the fumes. Instantly the heaviness in her shoulders disappeared. She looked down at her glass and before she knew it, one glass turned to six and her pack of cigarettes were now gone. Michelle cursed and shoved the empty pack into her trench coat pocket.

Her world seemed slightly tipsy, the colors of the bar seemed to bleed off and splatter onto the floor.

Suddenly, Michelle saw something in the mirror on the opposing wall behind the bar. Between the crowd of people laughing and drinking, was the dark profile of a person. Michelle could not make out any facial features except that of an elongated, triangular-shaped head. Michelle squinted her eyes and saw nothing but blank features on the figure until a large yellow toothy grin appeared on the figure's face.

Michelle spun around quickly in her stool; when she surveyed the barroom crowd the figure was not there. Michelle turned to look in the mirror and the figure was gone. Michelle's eyes opened with astonishment.

"Oh man," she slurred. "I better go home."

She left the money on the bar and left.

* * *
Somehow Michelle managed to make it home. She stumbled into her apartment, closed the door behind her, and flipped a switch turning the lights on.

Everywhere in the house were stacks upon stacks of paper. Old and current newspapers were thrown everywhere. Newspaper clippings were posted all around in a completely random fashion. They had headlines that read: "Young Boy Missing", "Mysterious Black Megadeus saves City", "Prominent Event Theorist Found Murdered".

Within the chaos, on a small wooden desk, was an old typewriter. Its enamel sides were chipped and some of the letters on the keys had been worn away.

Michelle threw her purse into a pile of papers, walked over to the desk, pulled out the chair and sat down. She took a clean sheet of paper and rolled it into place in the typewriter. Michelle leaned back into her chair far enough that she could see the ceiling. She sighed and leaned forward.

"What!"

A small message was on the piece of paper in the typewriter -

Hello Michelle.

Michelle quickly pressed her face close to the typewriter, examining it for any change. She found none. She shook her head and exhaled. But when she looked back at the paper another message below the previous one appeared -

If you seek your answers

Follow me into the black forest

and I will show you.

Immediately Michelle ripped out the paper, crumpled it up, and threw it across the room. Suddenly all the lights went off, leaving Michelle in total darkness; she shrieked and a voice called out.

"Michelle, what are you doing!"

The lights began to turn on and off quickly. Michelle ran to a corner and curled up amid stacks of newspapers.

"What?!" she shrieked. "Who are you?!"

"Michelle!"

The voice seemed to be all around her. It sounded like a man and woman speaking simultaneously. Michelle covered her ears and shut her eyes.

"Michelle Seebach, don't be foolish!"

Now the voice was inside her head.

"Who are you?! What do you want?!" Michelle shouted.

"What do I want?" the voice chuckled, its expression turned smug. "It's not what I want, it's what I can give you."

"What-what are you talking about?"

The voice laughed mockingly.

"I know what you seek Michelle. It's the reason you neglect your friends, your family ... why you stay up late and wake early in the morning. The very questions you've been wanting answers to ... "

Michelle opened her eyes, removed her hands and stood slowly. "Why, why are you doing this? Can I trust you?"

"Why, of course you can Michelle! In fact, you know me. I've been with you a very, very long time. I'm doing this because I've chosen you - chosen you to be the messenger to the ignorant masses."

"Messenger ...?"

Suddenly Michelle started to slowly walk forward. She began to go towards the door.

"Follow my voice Michelle, and I will show you the truth."

Michelle opened the door and left her apartment, trench coat and all.

* * *

And she walked …

And walked …

And walked …

She did not know how long she walked when she came to the huge entrance to an aqua duct.

Michelle's bare feet were swollen red and small drips of blood crept from under her toenails when she took a step. But she never stopped; every bone, every muscle, every fiber in her body urged her to go on, deeper and deeper.

Michelle's feet were dragging through water and the walls of the aqua duct slipped from circular to perfectly square.

Finally Michelle stopped. She was short of breath and pain shot up through her ankles. Michelle shook her head as if she came out of a trance.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"Don't stop now Michelle. You are close."

Michelle began to become irritated.

"How close?" she spat annoyingly.

There was a pause.

"Very close ... " the voice breathed.

"Very close? How much
farrrrrrrrggghhhaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

An explosion blasted in Michelle's head, shattering the insides of her skull. She fell to her knees, clutching her ears. What seemed to be a million voices were all speaking at once -

"Siemanymyticmgidarapotemoclew?

elmundoesunamentira!

Toidinasiyugtaht!!

dieweltiseinelüge!

tahtsillehehttahw,

Lemondeestunmensongeÿ!

DLAWZRAWHCSMAI!!

Ilmondoèunabugia!"

An enormous pounding was piledriving in Michelle's head. Suddenly, another noise came over the voices - music. Music that would seem to accompany Satan himself surrounded Michelle Seebach, assaulting her, ripping her body apart.

Then the gates to the courtyard of hell opened …

An inferno surrounded the woman. The heat so great, the shirt under her trenchcoat was soaked from perspiration and seared her face and hands. The fire seemed to suck the air right out of her lungs and it roared and moaned as if it was alive.

The music had swept into full force, a hateful slashing chorus seeming to fight against the thunderous boom of unseen instruments. Michelle looked down to her arms and saw that she was cut everywhere. Blood was dripping down her arm onto the ground and sizzled. She touched her face and could feel skin bubbling and falling off in wet chunks.

Then from within the bowels of the flames, a familiar figure appeared. Its long, triangular shaped head held two pairs of pure white eyes and devilish yellow teeth in its grin.

It thrust its fist into the air and shouted in a voice that sounded like a harsher version of Michelle's.

"This! Michelle! Is how the world was!!"

The figure began making movements with its arms as if conducting an orchestra. A loud crashing sound was heard and now Michelle found herself in the middle of a city of flames. Toppled and crumbled buildings were everywhere and fire consumed everything.

Then suddenly, a giant black Megadeus crashed through the mid-levels of a building. The robot slowly fell to the ground and was crushed by the upper floors of the building. The debris kicked a giant cloud of dust over Michelle. Forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut.

When she opened her eyes, dozens and dozens of destroyed megadei were everywhere. They were being ripped apart by a giant serpent-looking robot. It raised its head to the sky and let out a ear-bleeding cry.