Chapter 1, Part 2, Episode 6

“I’m with Manny,” Romeesha said quietly. Scepter and Miss Gwen turned to look at her, curious. Heretofore, she had stayed somewhat on the sidelines. While Miss Gwen and Scepter debated ethics and extreme medicine, all she could do was look at Kit. Conversations like this were never really her strong point. It’s why she liked the yes/no world of computers. “Maybe” always led to problems. All she could think about was what constituted “life.” She knew of people living for years, hooked up to tubes and respirators. Back in Compton, a few of her friends OD’ed and ended up in comas. What they were then they came back…Romeesha honestly wondered if just dying wasn’t a better option.

Kit—Pitch Black—and ROM weren’t exactly arm-in-arm. It’s not that they didn’t like each other; they were just on two very different roads, from two very different origins. She could “upload” her mind into a computer, know everything it was doing. He could scramble bioelectrical impulses with a touch—and he lucked out when compared to Paine: Pitch Black could turn his power and on off. She was born in Compton, and was raised by her grandmother because her own mother was a gang-bitch and crack-whore. He was born in Nashville, and raised in a picture-perfect family. She went into computers, learned the ins and outs, sought out knowledge. He was a good ol’ boy high school sports star until an injury killed his football dreams and turned him to professional bodybuilding—which he rocked, by the way. Enough to actually do it full-time. Romeesha admittedly wondered how in the world he could do it with any measure of long-term security, but unlike her, or just about anybody, Kit lived in a “perpetual present.” The past couldn’t be fixed, the future couldn’t be known, so he just went with it, cowabunga-style. One day he was surfing, the next, taking Italian lessons. He even learned to juggle. Definitely a poster-boy for Peter Pan Syndrome, but then, Romeesha the Neon Minnie Mouse wasn’t on firm ground to judge.

Still, he always seemed to treat her like a little sister when she was around. It was just how he did things.

Miss Gwen turned around very slowly and focused a dagger stare on ROM through narrowed eyes, betrayed. The other woman wanted to shrivel up. And then, turning back to Manny, Miss Gwen Did It. “You have never been the same since you killed that girl.”

Were it not for the goddam beeping of the heart monitor, the room could have been a tomb.

Chapter 1, Part 2, Episode 5

“Unless we can figure out the cause," Aikins said. She suddenly did not seem quiet so bitchy, just very, very tired. "And even then, no guarantees. The longer he’s like this, less likely it is he’ll come out of it, and the less likely that he’ll be the man he was before he succumbed. The man is tank. Does he do steroids? Something black market?”

“No clue,” Guinevere lied through her teeth. A pro-bodybuilder. On steroids? Oh, how could such a thing ever be?

Manny held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. Unless it has Braille, I have no idea what it is. And besides, it’s not like I go through people’s medicine cabinet.”

“Well, that’s pretty much what we’ll have to do,” Dr. Aikins replied. “Because if we can’t figure out how he got this way, the only thing we can do is make him comfortable. His parents will have to decide what to do with him.” And with that, she left.

“Bitch,” Romeesha muttered.

Scepter rounded on the other two. “There. That second opinion change your mind?” It was always unnerving. He was blind, he could not see. But because he was a psychic, he knew exactly where everybody was.

Miss Gwen crossed her arms. “Are we at the ‘kill him’ thing again?”

“He’s already dead! He just doesn’t know it yet,” Scepter replied. “That ‘complete lack of chemical activity in the brain’ is the physical side-effect of Vagabond’s attack. His mind is in a permanent state of paralysis. Or a seizure. Whatever you want to call it, he’s in it, and he’s not coming out of it.”

“So hey! Let’s just hurry the process along!” Miss Gwen snapped back. “You talk as if resuscitation is guaranteed! 99% of the time, death is a one-way trip. You’re really placing bets on that magical 1%?” Miss Gwen then changed tactics. Holding her hands prayer-like to her mouth, she spoken levelly, with deliberation. “Manny, it’s just plain disturbing that you want to kill our friend. Didn’t you and he…?”

“Ahem. Yes. We did. And still do,” Manny replied coolly.

“Which makes it that much worse. In fact, you seem almost enthused about the whole thing. That you are a shrink makes it unthinkable. It’s wrong, you know it, and there has got to be some other way. Manny, you are talking about killing a man. Killing. Kit.”

That was an utterly fair assessment. “There is no other way,” he whispered through his teeth, grappling with his own ethics. God, if there were.

“Bullshit. You had an outlandish idea and are so desperate for a straw to grab at that you ran with it.”

            Manny’s Buddha demeanor wore thin. “So, what would you do? Can you build a machine to undo psychic damage? Good luck. Can you build a machine to help him live? We have those already; we can put a tube into every orifice and keep him going for years. And that’s exactly what will happen, by the way. He’ll eat through a tube, piss through a tube. He’s loose that magnificent body of his. He’ll be rotated for bed sores and grow old and waste away and then more tubes will go into him. He may in fact, actually die but no one will know because the machines are doing all the work!” Manny then rounded on the unusually quiet ROM, “And you. Could you develop a code to read a mind—not a brain, a mind—like a computer and fix it? Even if you could, the brain-mind it is so complex it would take you years to do it to ‘read’ the entire thing, even if you were going at it 24/7. And you wouldn’t even know where to begin.” He put his hands to eyes. “Yes, what I am suggested could kill him. But they way he is now, he’s just as good as dead. This is classic Vagabond. Destroy them but not kill them.” He gazed at Kit quietly, the only sound in the room that goddam heart monitor beep. “Virtual death.”

Chapter 1, Part 2, Episode 4

Miss Gwen tapped her foot, scowling. The idiotic thing was that she had no other idea. She was a mechanic, not a biologist. She could make from scratch any number of machines to keep him alive, but it was clear from all the tubes and screens and beeping that that idea was already done.

At which point, a doctor entered.

“Oh, thank God, a normal person,” Romeesha said. “Doc, please tell me that you can wake this boy up.” She didn’t see Manny’s suddenly very serious expression. He already knew the answer.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “This is probably going to be a stupid question, but are any of you next of kin?”

The Mexican American and African Americans stared at her, and then to the Japanese American patient.

“We’re friends,” Manny said, standing. “All of Kit’s family is back in Japan. He was born and raised here, so he stayed. When he…came here, I mean, when it looked bad, like he wasn’t going to come around, I called his parents. But it’s a 9-hour flight from Tokyo to San Francisco.”

“And you are?”

Intros again. “Doctor Emmanuel Veracruz, psychologist.”

“Oh. I see. And they are?” The doctor, a tall, trim blond woman, gave every sign that she was all business and numbers. And had the bedside manner to match.

“The family he has on this side of the Pacific,” Guinevere said, suddenly not liking the woman at all.

“So can the attitude, Miss Thing,” Romeesha added.

“Are you Mr. Kitabora’s psychologist?” It was as if the two women had just blipped out of existence, for all the attention the doctor paid them.

Manny laughed. “Doesn’t need one. In my opinion, the man’s as stable as houses.”

“Too bad,” came the reply. “It would at least give us a place to start. I’m Dr. Aikins.”

“Should we be worried that you are already using the term ‘next of kin?’” Manny asked.

The doctor sighed. “We’re stumped,” she said bluntly. “We’ve tested for everything, even a few oddballs like Klein-Levin and encephalitis lethargica. Physically, he’s fine. I’ve seen his CAT scans and the only thing out of the ordinary is the near complete lack of chemical activity in the brain. My first inclination is to say he had a stroke, but there is no bleeding or damage to his brain. Biologically, his brain is functioning normally, but it’s like all it’s mental processes have stopped. What was he doing before he got like this?”

What indeed? Manny thought.

“He had a fight,” Romeesha offered. “With an asshole.”

That perked some interest. “He was hit?”

“No,” Manny said, giving ROM a good mental bonk to the brain. “First, it was…an argument. Then he collapsed.”

“You saw it?”

“I haven’t seen anything, Doctor,” Manny replied, showing her his blind eyes.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Dr. Aikins hastily said. “Did either of you?”

“Yes,” Romeesha volunteered.

Guinevere rolled her eyes. Go on. Explain your way out of this one, baby.

“What happened?”

“Just like Manny said.”

The woman was clear not satisfied with that dead end. “This is the first time I have ever heard of someone going into a coma because his feelings got hurt.”

“Doctor, we’ve told you all we know. We were hoping you could tell us something,” Guinevere said gently.

“I’ll tell you that I have a man in a coma for no reason,” Dr. Aikins snapped, more at the situation than any of them. “And I have every indication he’s going to slip into a persistent vegetative state for the rest of his life.”

“A what?” Romeesha asked.

“He’ll spend the rest of his life as a vegetable,” Manny translated. 

Chapter 1, Part 2, Episode 3

“Seriously what?” Guinevere asked, turning to her girlfriend.

“Turning him off,” Manny repeated.

“What the hell are you talking about, ‘turn him off?’” Guinevere chided. “And what does that mea…wait. No. Oh, hell no!”

“Only for a few seconds! It happens all the time!” Manny said, his mind racing.

“It does not happen all the time!” Guinevere countered. “You’ve snapped, Scepter! You are talking about killing him!”

“I’m with my girl,” he heard Romeesha say. “That ain’t even funny.”

“We’re in a hospital! They’ll just resuscitate him!”

Romeesha put up her hands. “I am so not doin’ this.”

“You make it sound like an everyday event! Just how hard did you hit that tree?”

“I—“ Manny began, then stopped. “Hush, you two. Nurse alert.”

On cue—it was so creepy when he did that, Guinevere thought—a nurse came in to check on the man Manny thought of snuffing out and bringing back to life five seconds before. Manny actually stifled a laugh. Whatever the women were wearing, it must have been a beaut. Guinevere the grease monkey, bald as a cue-ball so her hair would catch on machinery or on fire, rarely stepped out of her overalls and tanktops, although on formal occasions she was known to wear a sports bra. Computer-Goth Romeesha… well, if it was Day-Glo-hued cybergothic Spandex, Lycra, or industrial grade rubber micro-minis, she’d wear it. The fact that she grew out her afro, dyed it neon pink, and then split it down the middle into two pom-poms (she wasn’t called the ‘Neon Minnie Mouse’ for nothing), just lent added flair. She could stop traffic. Although Manny, acutely aware of others’ thoughts, was well aware that a 5’2’’ woman with double-D cups would stop traffic anywhere she went. She certainly bolted the nurse to the floor.

“You’re…Mr. Kitabora’s friends?”

Manny guffawed, swallowed, and looked angelic. “In all our glory. I’m Doctor Emmanuel Veracruz. The tall lady is Guinevere White. The shor—um—‘petite’ one is Romeesha Armstrong.” She hated being called short. Having worn them all her life, she was the only woman in the city that could win a sprint in high-heeled platforms.

“Doctor?”

“Shrink,” Romeesha helped. “We know it ain’t obvious.”

Manny shot her a look.

“Do they have any new info on him?” Guinevere asked. “Kit. Not the shrink. The shrink’s a lost cause.”

“I am in the room, you know.”

The nurse shook his head. “I don’t have that information. But I’ll let one of his doctors know you’re here.” He then replaced the IV drip and left the three.

Once the interlude had passed, Miss Gwen and ROM rounded on Scepter—

“Aaaaand you think I’m nuts,” he said.

“Homocidal. Nuts. Take your pick,” ROM finished. “One gets yo’ ass in prison.”

Manny set his jaw. “I’ve been trying to link with Kit for the last two days. I’ve tried every angle I can think of. I’ve even tried getting him off.”

Miss Gwen closed her eyes. “Just when I think the day can’t get any more crazy.”

The man crossed his arms. “If you have any better ideas—“

“Other than killing him? Plenty!”

            “—then let’s hear it.”

Chapter 1, Part 2

            “If he wanted us dead, we would be,” Manny replied fatalistically.

“Almost did Kit in,” Guinevere sighed.

“Probably,” Manny theorized, “because other than Paine, Pitch Black was the only one to score a direct hit.” Turning back to Kit’s prone form, he said, “When the monks taught me how to use my powers, it was never for anything as destructive as what Vagabond can do.” He paused. “Similarly, Vagabond probably doesn’t have the finesse you need for all the things I do. And that’s the problem: The trick with telepathy is that you have to know how the damage was done in order to fix it. You can’t use a hammer for a screw.”

            “You try that Jedi Voice Trick on him?” Romeesha asked, using the term Kit would have used.

            “’Nepalese’ Voice Trick,” Manny said, giving the trademark reply with a smirk, going along with the joke. “I can compel a person to do anything, even against their will. But they have to be conscious.”

            There was silence, and then Miss Gwen spoke. “How are you holding up?”

            Manny sigh-laughed. He undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing a yoga-toned torso, and turned his back to the women to reveal a huge, ugly bruise over most of his back. He stiffly turned around slowly, grunting.

 “Oh, shit,” Romeesha drawled. “What’d the doctors say?”

“I told ‘em I slipped on a carpet and over a rail. Landed on my back,” he said. “The old ‘clumsy blind-guy stereotype.’ Nobody suspected I was thrown against a tree. Anyway, I have three cracked ribs, but my spine is OK. Very mild concussion.” He pointed to a noticeable welt on his head. “I’ll be fine. Dressing was tough.”

“Why did Vagabond attack you first?” Guinevere asked. “That was low. Attacking the blind dude.”

“He wasn’t picking off the easy targets. He’d have taken you two out if so,” Manny replied, buttoning up and tucking his shirt into his jeans. He sensed a flash of indignation. “None of you have ‘aggressive powers.’ Nash can vaporize metal. Alastair can make anything blow to pieces. Guinevere can build things and Romeesha can hack computers. Unless you are packing heat, he’d have just as well ignored you.”

“Thank you. I feel so empowered now,” Guinevere snipped, mildly ticked she wasn’t considered a serious threat. “And the next time your washing machine is on the fritz—“

“No offence. But I’m the only other psychic of us,” Manny explained. “Although I can’t do half the shit he can. He can pick up cars and throw them into the next state. I’m more of a mentalist. I can completely take over a person’s mind. I can wipe it clean. And I can surf psychic energy to its source and cancel it. I could have done that. I could get into his head, if he was distracted enough…and I had a lot to drink beforehand. After what Sanjay and Kit did, I would have had an opening. So he knocked me out first chance he got.” He smiled slightly. “I’ll pull through. How is JJ?”

            “Benji’s got him tied up in his basement.”

            “You’re kidding.”

            “No joke,” Romeesha replied. “He was buggin’ out. Quartz had to hold him down and Eartha had to knock him out.”

            Manny sighed. “He’ll be fine, once he withdraws. It wouldn’t take them long to figure out you can have skin-to-skin contact with the man. Poor guy.”

            Guinevere sighed, her eyebrows shooting up and then down. “Good to know you’re gonna pull, through.”

“Been better. I’ve taken some vacation, so my practice is taken care of. Besides, to have your shrink look more beat up than you are is bad press.” He paused. “Moving around is harder. Bo keeps coming to the rescue, and Finn has offered to help while I recoup. I’m getting my rest. But as soon as they let visitors in, I’m here. Bo’s been a real doll and drops me off before he goes on duty at the precinct. He’s thinking of re-enlisting, not that DODT over, in case you hadn’t heard.”

“Didn’t,” he heard Romeesha say. “But ain’t surprising. The man’s a soldier. Loves his country and all ‘dat.”

“So what can we do for Kit?”

“My first thought was to haul Vagabond in here—“

“Seriously?”

“You are fucked-up!”

“—but I know that’s out of the question.”

“Even if we could find him.”

Romeesha spoke. “Too bad he ain’t a computer. You can just turn it off when it freezes up. Works every time, pretty much.”

Manny’s eyebrow’s poked up from his sunglasses.

            “Whaaaaat…?” Romeesha asked thickly, her head going off to one side. Then she blinked. “Oh, now don’t even go there! Seriously?”

Chapter 1, Part 2

Vagabond

            He continued retching long after his stomach was empty. His entire body, so unused to this…normal…state, after a lifetime in ecstatic frenzy, had no other way to react. The dreamer had been torn from the dream, violently, and without regret.

            Regret. Now that was a word he knew very well.

            Not that he paid attention to it. It was like navigating a maze of knives. Provide you didn’t throw yourself against the walls, it was simplicity itself to avoid getting hurt.

            Hurt, of course, was another word he knew very well. And there was no avoiding this one. No, that’s a lie. Of course there was…is.

            Feebly, using his monstrous arms as pillows, he slowly leaned forward onto the ceramic of the commode, it’s razor-sharp coolness ping-ponging across his nerves. It’s not that he was about heave—his body finally understood the futility—he was just…so…tired. Which made perfect sense, if you knew the man. What he had been through. What he had done.

            It was only when he felt the pangs of his feet falling asleep did he move, and even then, it was just to slip to one side, and settled down upon one hip. There was so many things to be done, and the day was getting no shorter, but the idea of just staying there took on an undeniable allure.

            You know when you are tired enough and just about any position you find yourself in is the most comfortable in the world?

            Sounds of summer were flitting through the shut window, muffled, as was the light. It was a beautiful summer’s day. It was a beautiful day to die.

ROM, Miss Gwen, Scepter, & Pitch Black.

“…Manny?”

            “I’m awake!” He sat bolt upright, his glasses, having popped off his ears when he was face-down, flying across the room.

            Guinevere came to the blind man’s side while Romeesha picked up the shades. “How is he?”

            Still a little dazed, Manny blinked, his glaucus-white eyes, sightless as they were, stinging. He had fallen asleep on his nose at Kit’s bedside, the reassuringly monotonous pinging of the heart monitor lulling him into dreams. Two days of constant telepathy, and still nothing. “No change,” he sighed, defeatedly. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

            “Here yo’ glasses, Doc,” Romeesha said, putting the shades in his had, the tenderness in her voice off-setting her gangsta twang.

            “Thanks.”

            Romeesha’s eyes drifted to Kit. “So fucked, seeing somebody like him like this.”

            Guinevere put her arms around the other woman. It was comforting, but uncomfortingly helpless. In terms of sheer strength, blow for blow, Kit could probably take even Danilo down. He was Kazuhito “Kit” Kitabora, professional bodybuilder, for crissakes. At any given time, he was in at least two muscle mags. He should be slinging weights, or playing country songs on his guitar, or stopping the conversation dead in its tracks by being a Japanese man with a Tennessean accent. He should not in an ICU. Seeing him now, like this…it wasn’t right. Vagabond…

            “You getting’ anything from him?” Romeesha went on.

            Manny shook his head. “No. Nothing conscious. It’s like…paralysis. It’s like the lights are on but nobody is home.”

            “What does the hospital say?” Guinevere asked. Manny could here the musical lilt of Trinidad in the woman’s voice.

            Manny sat back in his chair. “They have no idea. Clearly Kit’s in a coma, but they have no idea why, of course. Everything is working fine: heart, lungs, kidneys. But he’s completely unresponsive. They even stuck him with a pin, to see if he was faking it. Now they’re talking some sort of chemical shock or psychosomatic break.”

            Guinevere closed the door. “I don’t think they’d buy it, if we told them.”

            “I still don’ know what Vagabond did to him,” Romeesha muttered. “Damn psycho.”

            The man rubbed his temples. “Even I don’t know for sure.” He could empathically sense their dismay at that, and he quickly explained. “Kit is here. I can feel him. It’s hard to explain. It’s like he’s a computer that’s frozen up. I can get in so far, and then I run into something. Nothing I do can get through. I’m pressing all the buttons, but nothing is working. It’s not like a block or shield, although it may as well be. And it’s not like his mind was blasted out of his brain, although Vagabond could do that. Remember, we were just in his way. We interrupted him. He wasn’t trying to kill us, just get rid of us.”

            “’Not trying to kill us?’” Guinevere repeated, incredulous.

            “You wanna put money on ‘dat?” Romeesha asked.

Chapter 1, Part 2

ROM, Miss Gwen, Scepter, & Pitch Black.

            Vagabond

            He continued retching long after his stomach was empty. His entire body, so unused to this…normal…state, after a lifetime in ecstatic frenzy, had no other way to react. The dreamer had been torn from the dream, violently, and without regret.

            Regret. Now that was a word he knew very well.

            Not that he paid attention to it. It was like navigating a maze of knives. Provide you didn’t throw yourself against the walls, it was simplicity itself to avoid getting hurt.

            Hurt, of course, was another word he knew very well. And there was no avoiding this one. No, that’s a lie. Of course there was…is.

            Feebly, using his monstrous arms as pillows, he slowly leaned forward onto the ceramic of the commode, it’s razor-sharp coolness ping-ponging across his nerves. It’s not that he was about heave—his body finally understood the futility—he was just…so…tired. Which made perfect sense, if you knew the man. What he had been through. What he had done.

            It was only when he felt the pangs of his feet falling asleep did he move, and even then, it was just to slip to one side, and settled down upon one hip. There was so many things to be done, and the day was getting no shorter, but the idea of just staying there took on an undeniable allure.

            You know when you are tired enough and just about any position you find yourself in is the most comfortable in the world?

            Sounds of summer were flitting through the shut window, muffled, as was the light. It was a beautiful summer’s day. It was a beautiful day to die.

“…Manny?”

            “I’m awake!” He sat bolt upright, his glasses, having popped off his ears when he was face-down, flying across the room.

            Guinevere came to the blind man’s side while Romeesha picked up the shades. “How is he?”

            Still a little dazed, Manny blinked, his glaucus-white eyes, sightless as they were, stinging. He had fallen asleep on his nose at Kit’s bedside, the reassuringly monotonous pinging of the heart monitor lulling him into dreams. Two days of constant telepathy, and still nothing. “No change,” he sighed, defeatedly. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

            “Here yo’ glasses, Doc,” Romeesha said, putting the shades in his had, the tenderness in her voice off-setting her gangsta twang.

            “Thanks.”

            Romeesha’s eyes drifted to Kit. “So fucked, seeing somebody like him like this.”

            Guinevere put her arms around the other woman. It was comforting, but uncomfortingly helpless. In terms of sheer strength, blow for blow, Kit could probably take even Danilo down. He was Kazuhito “Kit” Kitabora, professional bodybuilder, for crissakes. At any given time, he was in at least two muscle mags. He should be slinging weights, or playing country songs on his guitar, or stopping the conversation dead in its tracks by being a Japanese man with a Tennessean accent. He should not in an ICU. Seeing him now, like this…it wasn’t right. Vagabond…

            “You getting’ anything from him?” Romeesha went on.

            Manny shook his head. “No. Nothing conscious. It’s like…paralysis. It’s like the lights are on but nobody is home.”

            “What does the hospital say?” Guinevere asked. Manny could here the musical lilt of Trinidad in the woman’s voice.

            Manny sat back in his chair. “They have no idea. Clearly Kit’s in a coma, but they have no idea why, of course. Everything is working fine: heart, lungs, kidneys. But he’s completely unresponsive. They even stuck him with a pin, to see if he was faking it. Now they’re talking some sort of chemical shock or psychosomatic break.”

            Guinevere closed the door. “I don’t think they’d buy it, if we told them.”

            “I still don’ know what Vagabond did to him,” Romeesha muttered. “Damn psycho.”

            The man rubbed his temples. “Even I don’t know for sure.” He could empathically sense their dismay at that, and he quickly explained. “Kit is here. I can feel him. It’s hard to explain. It’s like he’s a computer that’s frozen up. I can get in so far, and then I run into something. Nothing I do can get through. I’m pressing all the buttons, but nothing is working. It’s not like a block or shield, although it may as well be. And it’s not like his mind was blasted out of his brain, although Vagabond could do that. Remember, we were just in his way. We interrupted him. He wasn’t trying to kill us, just get rid of us.”

            “’Not trying to kill us?’” Guinevere repeated, incredulous.

            “You wanna put money on ‘dat?” Romeesha asked.