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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! Everyone at “Global Idol” had been hypnotized… and soon, the hypnosis would extend to the world. After all, “Global Idol” was truly a global phenomenon. It would be watched by billions.

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 twirled a tendril of her long, black hair round her slender, taloned finger, her motions seductive. “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 alighting with desire. “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 made his heart race and his palms sweat, the way she sat so close, her long-lashed eyes, as dark as onyx, flashing seductively, her sweet breath fluttering against his neck, her long fingernails lightly scraping his skin as she touched his arm or his thigh.

“I can’t wait either,” he murmured, his eyes drinking in the sight of her, quenched by her beauty.

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, as Sexi retreated to spread the word of their success to the rest of the agents at FANS headquarters. “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, Howie’s eye twitched some more, this time with embarrassment, as he pulled the squirmy ferret out from between his legs and felt glad that Sexi had already gone.


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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 of a boss over at the CIA! The U.S. isn't the only country at risk here!" K let out a frustrated sigh. "My orders are the only orders you're gonna follow, is that clear, cousin?" Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door. "Come in!"

A woman entered, her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail that swung against her shoulders as she walked over. The blonde man pulled down his sunglasses and scanned her over with his deep blue eyes. She was wearing a worn, 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 been ripped during several fights. This was not at all the attire he'd expected to find a high-ranking international agent wearing.

"You rang, K?" she asked as she stood next to him.

"O'Riley, this is Agent Littrell of the CIA." He motioned to her left. "He's going with you to back up 008 and 009 in Las Vegas. Leave immediately."

"You got it, boss." O'Riley – better known as Emerald Ecstasy to her colleagues at HimTak – gave K a small wave and walked towards the door, looking back when she saw she wasn't being followed. "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 Agent Littrell, call me The Rok."

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. K sighed as he headed in the opposite direction, towards Pearl's office.

"Just in time," Pearl said as K walked over to the console where she was watching the monitors. "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 each of the monitor feeds for any sign of a disturbance, frowning as he realized how loud the monotonic 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."

K and Pearl looked up and sure enough, Agent Jay was chanting and dancing exactly like the crowd in the auditorium. "Is there any way to stop him?"

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 all the monitors..."

Sure enough, moments later Jay had returned to his normal state, a confused expression on his face as he found himself bent over with his right arm up in the air. "That was some trip..." He stood up and stretched, returning to his place by Pearl.

"That was strange even for you," Pearl commented, 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 a soundboard with blinking lights, the operators of which were dancing as the others were, and the curtain, which Mark McGrath was standing next to. A few more keystrokes, and Pearl had a close-up of the sound boards displayed. "Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary here..."

"Wait," Jay said. "Go back."

"Okay..." A few keystrokes and, again, they were looking at the entire offstage area. "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.


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Back in the MGM Grand, Nick was tapping 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 eyes 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.

He scanned the crowd of hypnotized wannabe pop stars and began to awkwardly imitate their robotic dance as he slowly made 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.

There were so many people watching his every move. Dr. Rough smirked with a deep satisfaction as he watched HimTak’s golden boy fall victim to his evil scheme on the screen in front of him. The fact that it was his biggest threat who would now help make the final phase of his brainwashing ploy complete was a sweet taste of unexpected victory.

Justin watched from the shadows above with his mind not focusing on the situation, but rather drifting on a sea of painful, confusing memories.

And agents Jay, K, and Pearl sat glued to the monitors, each finding ways to hide their feelings of fear.

“Turn the sound back on. I want to hear what they’re saying.”

Pearl followed Jay’s orders without question and, again, silence filled the room. “Okay, Nick, this is the final round of the competition, and 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 drew her hand to her mouth to cover the gasp she released at the complete monotone sound in Nick’s voice. “They’ve gotten to Nick too!”

Pearl’s bright eyes glossed over, but both of her superiors remained calm, save the single glance they shot each other. Agent 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, sweetie?”

Kevin looked up from his phone. “What? What is it?”

Pearl looked into the pair of deep green eyes. “Mambo Number Five!” she screamed with excitement.

Kevin looked at Pearl and then to Jay, hoping he could explain her crazy behavior. “Mambo Number Five!” she yelled again. “Mambo Number Five!”

K and Jay turned their attention back to the monitor as Nick robotically took the microphone from Mark. “One, two, three, four, five,” he chanted.

Jay cringed at the performance, but Pearl had regained her hope and giggled at her friend on the screen in front of her. This would definitely be blackmail material. As Nick did a horrible robot dance, he managed to flip the switch on the bottom of the mic, turning the transmitter off. Jay caught the move and grinned with pride. “You sly dog.”

Pearl wrapped her arms around Jay in a hug of relief, but Kevin’s eyes never left the screen. He watched and waited and, sure enough, the effects of the mind control began to slowly wear off.

The longer Nick sang, the more he began to slip into the role and enjoy himself. His voice began to hit the notes perfectly, and his movements became playful and full of energy. “I like Angela, Pamela, Sandra, and Rita! And as I continue, you know they’re getting sweeter!”

Soon, Nick was carried away in the moment and had all but forgotten the mission. Mark caught on to what was happening and dove at him. The move took Nick by surprise and allowed Mark to get the better of him for a split second. He knocked Nick to the ground and got the mic in his hands long enough to turn the transmitter back on.

Nick regained his heading and came at Mark with full force. The washed-up sellout was no match for the highly-trained secret agent and quickly fell victim to Nick’s harsh blows. He was able to get in a shot here and there, but as they struggled on the stage, it was clear who the victor would be.

Justin swooped down from his place in the rafters on a rope the same way he’d managed to climb into them, and he killed the power to the TV cameras. Pearl was shocked to lose the feed, but she tapped into one of the hotel’s security cameras just in time to see Nick knock Mark out cold.

Nick scrambled to his feet, but when he reached the mic, he was met with a much more worthy opponent. For a brief moment, he looked into the eyes of his old friend and was overcome with guilt. Justin’s good eye narrowed, and he used Nick’s hesitation to his advantage. He hit Nick so hard that he fell to the ground, unable to breath.

Nick, being trained to take a hit, rose to his feet in a stance that was unmistakable - Nick Carter was pissed and about to kick some serious ass. Justin matched his stance, and they stood there, daring the other to make the first move. Everyone watching knew their history and could see that this fight, this showdown, was so much more than a battle for a victory. In a flash, they were on top of each other, hitting and kicking and flipping and choking. Anything they could do to prevent the other from getting the transmitter.

Nick managed to get a hand on the mic first, and he smashed it, sending a million tiny pieces about the stage, but the fight didn’t end there. The two old comrades flew at one another in a battle that would make Mohammad Ali nervous. So much emotion was released with each punch and there was so much emotional hurt that the two would have continued on forever if they could, but eventually, they were too tired to throw any more blows.

As they panted for breath and wiped the blood from their faces, they continued to stare at one another. Nick saw the hatred in Justin’s eyes. He could no longer stand it and had to ask the question. “Why?”

Justin was caught off-guard by the hurt in Nick’s voice. He couldn’t believe that Nick felt betrayed when it was he who had been treated in such a manner.

“How could you do it? I’m sorry you had to leave the agency, but how could you go to work for them? Can’t you see you’re on the wrong side?”

There was such urgency in Nick’s plea that Justin found himself questioning his own actions.

Nick looked into the cold, dead machinery that covered the scar from that awful day. He barely seemed human anymore. “Drums… Justin… Tell me who’s done this to you.”

At his words, Justin’s hatred returned. “You know damn well who did this to me!” he snarled. “And you deserve to die for it!”

Nick felt so deeply guilty that he let his guard down, and Justin pounced on him. He punched and punched until Nick could barely see and would have killed him, had not a crowd of confused people gathered around them.

“Nick!”

Justin jumped up and vanished in the sea of bodies, just as Diamond burst through it and fell to his side.


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