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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…

Pearl, who had turned her back on him by refusing to do what, later on, someone else had done for 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 Pearl had given to him as a weapon.

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, Pearl, and Jewel were the ones most deserving. Had they saved him then, K would have never given him the boot. He would make them taste his revenge against the agency that had done him in. Against the agents who had twisted the knife Nick had thrust into his back. They would taste it.

And they would be feasting on it far sooner than they realized.


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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 Pearl’s little gadget.

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 Styx.”

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 Japan…”

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?” Pearl’s voice suddenly crackled from his watch, just loud enough for him to hear. She provided a welcomed distraction for Nick, who looked down at her image on the watch’s tiny display screen at once. She looked and sounded slightly frazzled, he realized.

“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 Pearl, and her face disappeared from his screen.

“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 Pearl was back. He wondered how much she knew about hypnosis.

“Nick, he’s not showing up on any of our cameras,” said Pearl, looking flustered. “He’s either left the building, or he’s hiding somewhere out of our sight. I would keep searching the premises, just in case.”

“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…”


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