Visited Aurora in the hospital for the first time today. I tried to go before. I couldn’t make myself walk down that long hallway into her room. She’s in a coma, the docs say, which means her brain is hurt.

But it’s weird. I thought that she would be all cold and still. Instead her lips are almost always moving, at least on the ‘level’ she was in when I saw her. And every once in a while she lifts up her right hand a bit, like she’s about to reach for something.

Her mom told me that the doctors say its good she’s exhibiting signs of awareness. It means she could come out of it in weeks or even days. They say it’s actually pretty rare for people to stay in a coma forever.

Still.

It’s like Aurora’s trapped in some tiny dark space at the back of her mind, and I’m the one who put her there. What was she going to tell me? What if I never hear her voice again.

I have no interest in being one of those superheroes that lives out his days tortured by loss, and motivated by a desire for revenge. Batman, The Punisher, Constantine, Spawn, Elecktra, Swamp Thing, the list goes on and on and it sucks.

I should have listened to New Guy when he said I’d get her hurt.

He hasn’t been to the hospital. He hasn’t been to school this week. Aurora’s mom keeps asking me where her ‘boyfriend’ is.

But now I know that New Guy was right. Maybe he was never anything but a spy for his parents’ company, but he was right. I got Aurora hurt.

And maybe I know I need to back off, but all I can think about is going and doing the one thing the giggling man told me not to do.

I’m gonna find New Guy/Kevin Joy, and he’s going to answer some questions: About JoyTech, about Aurora, about everything.

I came up out of blackness that wasn’t sleep into a nightmare, so I couldn’t tell at first if I was awake or dreaming.

Again I opened my eyes to the bare bulb swinging above my head. The cell-like basement room equipped with moldering hulks that might have been racks and stocks or relics of a bygone industrial era.

And the mocking voice filled the room.

“A warning, only, Suspect 7. Not my idea. My employers only want you to know that they bite back. How many deaths will you be responsible for on this crusade? How many friends are you willing to lose? A warning only, Suspect 7. Not my idea…”

My eyes finally settled on the speaker in the corner of the room, and confirmed that I was alone.

I began to struggle, but this time I was not tied down. The voice droned on. How many deaths…How many friends.

It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. Aurora was hurt. She was not gone. Not possible.

I reached for my shirt pocket and Mrs. Brisby bit me very hard on the hand. She was scared, but she wasn’t hurt.

Slowly, I crawled to my feet. My head throbbed. Felt like I had been hit by a truck. But I don’t think it was a truck. Maybe a van, like the one they used to bring me here the first time.

Aurora hitting the big window, painted with the day’s sashimi specials.

I threw up on my shoes.

Then I thought, could she (I wouldn’t think ‘body’ but all I could think was ‘body’) be here, somewhere in this building? I didn’t know how much of it was this labyrinth of dugout tunnels and cells, but I’d search the place top to bottom.

And if I found the giggling man, I would throttle him.

The desire to hurt someone was very strong in me, with the image of Aurora shattering through the glass superimposed across my eyelids.

Then my phone rang. It was Jerry.

“Nemo! Where in Christ are you? Aurora’s in the hospital. Everybody’s looking for you. They’re telling me you were in some kind of accident? You hit Aurora with a car or something? Nemo, I know you’re off doing your own thing right now, boy, but I’ve got to draw a line some…”

The phone dropped out of my hand. I don’t know how I ended up back on the ground, on my knees, but I felt like praying. Aurora was in the hospital. That meant she was alive.

FYI: This was all done using Toon-FX.

Things I have discovered which suck:

1 – New Guy and his family came to town at the same time as JoyTech because they ARE JoyTech.

Big question: Does Aurora know or doesn’t she?

2 – Everything I’ve been doing to expose JoyTech has just been making them stronger.

It wasn’t long ago that I called JoyTech’s recycling program a case of greenwashing. Turns out I’M the new greenwashing program.

Suspect 7, that’s me.

According to these guys, there are six ‘sins of greenwashing.’ In no particular order, they are:

No Proof: Claiming to be doing environmentally friendly stuff when you’re not. I.e. – the scam recycling center.

Vagueness: Making yourself sound like you care when you don’t by using vague language. Watch any of JoyTech’s commercials for examples of this.

Irrelevance: Bragging about something you do that seems eco-friendly, but really has nothing to do with the real problem. For example, JoyTech loves putting “ALL ORGANIC” stickers on products that were never non-organic to begin with.

Fibbing: This, of course, is just straight-up lying about how ‘green’ you are. Hmm, like accepting awards for environmental stewardship when you’re engaged in unethical animal testing? Remind you of anyone in particular?

Lesser of Two Evils: Making a big deal about how great some ‘green’ initiative you have going is, when the big picture is still a disaster area. Example: The new JoyTech plant was built using all these recycled and sustainable materials, but it farts black smoke into the air all day – uh, what’s the point?

And last but not least, the Hidden Trade-Off: Focusing on how one thing you do is great so it covers up the bad stuff. Like, how every time I force JoyTech into a corner on one issue, Mr. Giggles spins it into a big show of how great and responsible they are.

Someday, there’s going to be a class you have to take in school about how the JoyTech Global Improvement Company greenwashed the entire planet, while actually rendering it black, and poisonous, and dead.

The problem is that being eco-conscious has become just another trend marketed to consumers. You see earthy colors in packaging, you see words like ‘all-natural’ and ‘organic’ and you think, ‘Oh, I’ll save the planet by buying this product.’

Newsflash: You’ll save the planet by NOT buying any more stupid products!

Buy less! Buy used! Buy experiences instead of products! Live a life of the mind instead of the store shelf!

Shit. Sorry to rant at you. But sometimes I feel like the world is a pretty awful place. And it’s getting worse, not better, isn’t it?

(If you’re lost, check out my last tooned note here.)

“Here is my proposal to you, Suspect 7. You continue to attempt to thwart corporate evil. I will continue to spin your efforts into dazzling PR for my employers. All will continue as before, save for one small thing

“In exchange for your freedom, you will leave young Kevin Joy and his family ALONE.” The last word came out shrill and screaming in my ear and I cringed away from him.

He smiled, then rose to his feet, dusting off his knees and tittering to himself. I could feel Mrs. Brisby trying to burrow deeper into the depths of my pocket.

It was now or never.

Ignoring my pounding head, I sprang to my feet, still partially tied to the chair. Mr. Giggles’ mouth opened in a round O of surprise as I barreled into him, shoving him towards the thug with the gun.

As the other thug reached for me, I reached up to grab some manacles dangling for the dungeon ceiling, and I used the guy’s body to pull myself up and over him, swinging out through the door into the hallway beyond.

Then it was time for my patented superhero move: running like hell.
I ran blindly, not sure if I was getting out or trapping myself deeper in the building.

I was still half-drugged and out of it when I burst through a set of doors to the outside. Suddenly I was in the brightness of early morning, on a busy downtown street in front of a totally unassuming highrise.

I pulled off my mask as passers-by looked at me strangely.

A taxi honked at the traffic in front of me. A bum asked me for a quarter.

The whole scene was so surreal that I had to force myself to get moving. Not that anyone followed me out of the building.

I started to walk, looking for some familiar marker to orient myself. But I couldn’t focus. All I could think was: Kevin Joy. Kevin. Joy. Kevin Joy.

New Guy, who had shown up at school at the same time that the JoyTech Global Improvement Company set up headquarters here in Ring City.

New Guy, who was always telling Aurora to stop worrying about JoyTech.

Mrs. New Guy, waving my picture around.

“Leave Kevin Joy and his family alone.”

As I tried to wrap my head around it, I felt like I was suffocating, like I was drowning and every breath brought in more water.

Mrs. Brisby’s heart beat like a tiny machine gun, in my pocket, against my chest.

When I came to, the first thing I saw was a bare light bulb swinging over my head, like something had just hit it.

I could feel Mrs. Brisby’s little heart beating wildly in my pocket. I went to move but my hands were tied behind me, strapped to the chair I was sitting on.

My head felt roughly like the time me and Aurora stole Jerry’s Jameson and drank the whole bottle before passing out at the Blood River lookout point.
I tried to get a decent look around, but my mask was sort of sideways on my face and I couldn’t see much. I was definitely in some kind of windowless, unfinished basement. Below the swinging light bulb I could see old wooden shapes, crisscrossed in chains.

I silently willed Mrs. Brisby to take pictures, document everything.

Then I heard a voice say, “Suspect 7 is awake, sir.”

There was a crackle of static, then the room swam around me and I must have conked out again because the next thing I knew, someone was adjusting my mask on my face and whispering, “wake up,” over and over.

I blinked. The man standing in front of me stood back and smiled. “I do have to apologize about the circumstances of our meeting,” he said pleasantly. “The basement setting, all these ancient contraptions. You’d think we brought you here to torture you!” He giggled.

The giggle was creepy. The guy was creepier. He looked like something out of A Clockwork Orange. His clothes did, anyway. He had a perfectly hairless head, no-color eyes, and a long, dark scar running down his forehead.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He laughed. “Only to talk, S7, only to talk! You don’t mind if I call you S7, do you? A bit of a pet name we have for you, yes?” He nodded in a very self-satisfied way. “You need not reply! You need not say anything. Only listen, S7, and listen well.”

As he spoke, I began to struggle with the restrains binding my wrists. I tried to be discreet about it, but then I noticed two guys on either side of the door leading out of the dungeon. One of them was holding the walkie-talkie; the other, a gun.

They both shook their heads at me very slightly, and I stopped struggling. Mr. Giggles seemed not to notice the exchange.

“I fulfill a very unique function on behalf of my employers,” he was saying. “Do you know what that is, S7?” He didn’t wait to see if I had an answer.

“I manage problems, and I turn them into non-problems. I see a threat, and I turn it into an asset. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“You work for JoyTech!” I blurted out, and stupidly, tried to jump out of my chair, which resulted in me tipping over on to my back. My head hit the dirt floor with a thump.

Mr. Giggles came and stood over me, his expression unperturbed. “Thusfar, Suspect 7, I’ve managed to turn your role as a potential threat into that of an asset.

“Each time you have brought something to light that ran the risk of reflecting unpleasantly upon my employers, I have made it blossom into an opportunity to for us promote our role as environmental stewards.

“Indirectly, you have participated in earning my employers acclaim as green thinking pioneers.”

I think at this point I made some grunting sounds and writhed around on the floor a bit.

“Hardly what you had in mind, I know,” his voice dripped with sympathy. “And unfortunately, my employers don’t see you in quite the same positive light that I do,” he paused and sighed heavily. “They’re concerned, S7. They’re deeply concerned that you are on the cusp of becoming more trouble than you’re worth.”

He walked a circle around me, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. I gave one last heave at my restraints and felt something snap, silently.

Suddenly, Mr. Giggles crouched down, bringing his mouth to my ear.

It was only then that I noticed the blood on the collar of his shirt.

After I got over the whole “tooning your mom” thing, I was planning on starting my investigation of familia New Guy with a little recon, like Googling his name, but I realized that I didn’t know his last name, and I didn’t know how to get it without looking…suspicious.

So I followed him home after school.

Turns out – big surprise – buddy lives in Palms Reach – the richest neighborhood in all of Ring City.

Why the guy travels for an hour every day to go to Ring City High is beyond me. Maybe his parents are some of these ‘give the boy a normal life’ types, but I doubt it. They’re certainly not worried about living in the lap of luxury to the point where it’s offensive to normal people.

The house, at the end of a long curving driveway that should have had its own street name, looked like the kind of place they find murdered celebrities on CSI: Miami. There were even guards patrolling the grounds.

Luckily, the row of giant trees winding up to the house made semi-aerial movement an option, and I was able to travel by branch all the way to the circular turnaround in front of the house.

From up in the trees, I got a great look inside the glass-walled house. I saw a maid cleaning an upstairs bedroom, and I saw New Guy and his mom standing around a table. It looked like they were having an argument. Mrs. New Guy was waving a piece of paper around.

I asked Mrs. Brisby (who travels mainly in my pocket these days) if she could get a closer look at the paper. Seconds later, my phone beeped. Image received.

I pulled out my phone. Mrs. Brisby took a great zoomed-in shot of the paper, all right. But it wasn’t exactly a piece of paper.

It was a glossy 8×10 of yours truly.

Believe it.

I timed the rounds being made by the guards, and when there was nobody looking, I dropped out of the tree and booked it to the line of shrubbery surrounding the house. I had to know what they were talking about – why they were arguing about ME.

I was almost under cover when I heard the dogs.

Jesus Christ, were these people the fucking mob?

While my brain was still grinding away at the crazy security measures, my feet turned me around and ran like hell.

One of Jerry’s favorite nuggets of life wisdom: “Never fight a dog.”

I didn’t have the angle to get back to the trees, so I ran for the high brick walls surrounding the property. I focused on getting up the wall in front of me instead of on the dogs behind me, but I could already tell I wasn’t going to make it.

I threw myself at the wall and felt a set of jaws close around the heel of my boot. I said a prayer.

Then there were arms coming down from above, hauling me up, and a whistle in the distance that made the barking behind me cut out like a switch had been flipped.

My body went limp with relief as two sets of arms pulled me over the wall. Then I felt a pinch at the back of my neck, and the last thing I saw was a white, windowless van before everything went blurry and disappeared.

I keep going over New Guy’s last words in my head:

“You’re the one that’s gonna get her hurt, Green.”

“You’re not flying as low under the radar as you think.”

Was he talking about taking Aurora to the movie? Or could he have been referring to my…other activities?

The weird thing is, the whole situation brought to mind another encounter.

I don’t think I ever wrote about this, but after the food fight at the football game, New Guy’s mom did show up at our house to have a talk with Jerry.

It was pretty funny. When Jerry opened the door, it looked like Tommy Chong coming face to face with Heidi Klum.

He just stood there, mouth slightly open, while this uber-fashion plate blonde that didn’t look like anybody’s mom adjusted her garden party hat against the breeze and air-kissed his check.

Then she strolled into our trashed kitchen (hey, what can I say, we’re bachelors), wrinkled her nose and said, “Thank you. I think I’ll stand.”

The conversation basically consisted of New Guy’s mom berating Jerry in an extremely calm, polite voice, while he did his best to look like he had a clue what she was talking about, which he didn’t.

As a rule, Jerry minds his business, and I mind mine. All calls from the school principal go to my cell phone.

The only fireworks came at the end of the conversation, when Mrs. New Guy said something vaguely threatening, to the effect of, “I’m considering this issue resolved. Any further problems will be brought to the attention of the proper authorities.”

Did I mention Jerry hates being threatened?

The conversation when from polite to shouting match in five seconds flat.

The reason I bring this up is because of the way Mrs. New Guy ended it.

She suddenly said, in this real conversational way, “You’ve spent some time in prison, haven’t you, Mr. Green?”

Jerry stopped yelling.

Then she said, “You’re not flying as low under the radar as you think,” and she walked out the door without closing it behind her.

So what is that? Some kind of favorite turn of phrase around the New Guy household?

It makes me think that I should learn more about his family.

All images in this comic were tooned using Toon-FX!

I’ve been messing around with Toon Video a bit more, and I turned one of my recent comics into a mini-movie. I’m actually kinda surprised by how well the tooning software works with videos I’ve made myself.

Check out the part near the end where I’m swinging up onto a narrow platform. That’s one of my favorite ways into JoyTech.

Unfortunately, after a couple days of trying to forget about it, the question of what JoyTech is doing here in Ring City is back in my head. I’m gonna call Aurora about it right now. She’s the expert on all this emissions control stuff.

The music in the video is by Stefan Ternemar. Check out his MySpace.