“I’m hitting some bookstores,” said Theodore, thinking quickly, “and getting something touristy for my mom. Like a Statue of Liberty flashlight.”
“Nice,” said Susan, with false approval. She took a last sip of hot chocolate and stood up. “Well, I’ll catch you guys later, and maybe we can catch a show or a movie.”
A short man wearing a brown suit and a red bow tie interrupted Susan’s exit.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help noticing that you’re the Wonder Heroes,” the man pulled a card from his pocket, and handed it to Susan, “I’m Roger Wicker, and I put together Broadway musicals.”
Susan shook the man’s hand. “How can we help you Mr. Wicker?”
“Well, I saw you there and I thought, Wonder Heroes: The Musical!” Mr. Wicker waved his hands in the air as if revealing the title on a marquee. “I mean, why not? Right?”
“Well, Mr. Wicker,” said Susan, “I’m sure my friends here would love to hear you out on this but I have an appointment.” Susan handed the business card to Theodore who frowned. “Have fun!” Susan said, waving goodbye as she left.
Susan walked the three blocks to the photographer’s studio and arrived for her appointment right on time, so of course she had to wait as the photographer and her assistant finished prepping for the shoot. Eventually Susan found herself seated in a chair as the late arriving make-up artist painted her face and barraged her with questions Susan could only half answer before the next question arrived.
Despite her statement about leaving the modeling to the models Susan found the experience of the photo shoot to be fun, but more work than she had counted on. The photographer was very interested in having Susan strike various poses in street clothes, summon her Wonder Armor, then, holding the same pose, dismiss it, giving the photographer before, during and after shots of a Wonder Hero transformation.
Towards the end of the shoot Paula Feval, the Rolling Stone writer conducting Susan’s interview, arrived, and Susan was able to finally meet the woman face to face. Paula was in her mid thirties but dressed much younger. She always had her cell phone in hand, and checked her messages constantly, but never answered it when it vibrated, at least not in Susan’s presence. Susan smiled when her Wonder Gauntlet informed her that Feval’s cell phone was stealthily recording their conversations. The interview process had already begun.
After Susan showered and dressed Paula Feval left the photographer’s studio with her and together they took the elevator to the street. “That was quite a shoot, Susie,” Feval said. Susan hated to be called Susie but let it slide. “Very sexy.”
“Not exactly what I was going for,” said Susan thoughtfully, “but thanks.”
“You think your boyfriend will like it?”
Susan smiled. “You’re fishing, but I’ll bite. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“What about David Farmer?”
Susan’s smile softened. “Dave? He’s a friend from MIT, but we’re not… I mean, I haven’t seen him in nearly a month.”
“Okay, I’m not judging, just getting some background. No big deal.” Paula smiled, then asked, “Do you miss it? School I mean.”
“Yeah, but I’m so busy it only hits me occasionally.”
Out on the street, the sun was setting and the extraordinary cold seemed even chillier. Paula pulled her fashionable but not exactly warm coat tight, but Susan was able to ignore the temperature.
“I’m flying out to Wonder Base in a week or so,” said Paula, “my people will call your people, yadda yadda. I’m freezing.” She raised her hand at a faraway taxi. “I’ll call you, okay?” Paula caught the taxi in that easy way native New Yorkers do, leaving Susan alone on the street.
Susan called Theodore on her gauntlet. In a second the holographic image of Theodore’s head appeared above her wrist.
“Hey Susan. Guess what?” said the floating, translucent head, “They’re doing a Broadway show about us!”
Susan laughed and feigned enthusiasm. “Great,” she said, stifling a laugh.
The group had discussed going to a show or seeing a movie but the idea was a non starter so they returned to Wonder Base. The sun was setting in New York but the Wonder Base in New Mexico still had nearly three hours of sunlight left, and it was a toasty eighty degrees outside to boot. Theodore excused himself to go present his tacky New York gift to his mother and Kalomo and Linnea were obviously in the mood to spend some alone time, so Susan made her goodbyes and minutes later had ditched her winter coat in her quarters. Soon she was on the roof, enjoying the New Mexican sun and warmth, completely forgetting the New York chill. The roof was empty of people but there was one extra helicopter, emblazoned with the logo of Watanabe Industries.
Susan sat in her beach chair and opened her book, Empire of the Sun by Ballard. She read until the sun set and the light was too low to read by. Leaving the book on the beach chair she headed downstairs to find someone to eat with. Even with the awesome convenience of having any meal she wished on demand in her quarters, Susan preferred to avoid eating alone.
She wandered through the common area and was surprised to see Walter Watanabe and General Rumpole engaged in deep conversation. The General brightened when he saw Susan.
“Ah! Susan. I believe you know Walter?”
Walter shook Susan’s hand with a sincere smile. “We met briefly,” said Susan. To Walter, she asked, “What brings you here to Wonder Base?”
The General rubbed his hands together. “A top secret project. Come on, we’ll tell you all about it over dinner.”
Dinner was served in a function room the General commandeered, and consisted of green salad, lasagna and a fine red wine served by members of the Wonder Base staff. After a time, the conversation shifted towards the top secret project.
“As you know,” said Walter, “the discovery of the eight giant aliens in and around Tokyo was a cause of great concern.” Walter took a sip of red wine. “Though we, that is, your team and myself, were able to defeat these giants without resort to special equipment, the possibility exists that there will one day be some sort of giant invader beyond our combined abilities to deal with.”
The General interrupted, and said to Susan, “When the Cassiopeians gave us the Wonder Hero technology, they also gave us the six vehicles, the Kicks and Fists and so forth that you were playing with a while back. These six vehicles together used to be able to become the Wonder Giant, a powerful weapon more than able to deal with any giant monster, alien or robot threat we’ve met.”
“But,” continued Walter, “when Danielle Walker sacrificed herself to seal the Hole of Holes, she took with her the power of Wonder Hero Blade with her, and without it the Kick-Blade cannot be operated, and the Wonder Giant cannot be summoned.”
Susan nodded her head. She knew most of this of course, this had happened a little over a year ago, when the solar system had come closer than ever before to complete destruction. The original Wonder Heroes battled the harbingers of the Hole of Holes, Sol Inviticus and his mad minions. Inviticus was a malevolent entity once worshipped as a god, returned to our solar system to supplant the sun and be worshipped by humankind forever. During the battle Sol Inviticus imploded, ushering in the Hole of Holes, a vortex of nothingness that would swallow the Earth into a howling dimension of fear. Danielle Walker, Wonder Hero Blade, somehow closed the Hole, saving the world at the cost of her own life.
“So let me guess,” said Susan, “you think you can get the Kick-Blade operating without Danielle Walker, so we’ll have access to the Wonder Giant again?”
Walter nodded, his mouth full of food, so the General said, “It’s quite possible that Walter here knows more about alien technology, and Wonder Hero technology specifically, than anyone else in the world.”
“I very much doubt that’s true, General,” said Walter with a false modesty that Susan found ingratiating rather than grating, “but Watanabe Industries is in a unique position to exploit what we think might be bra
nd new insights into the way the various Wonder Hero artifacts: gauntlet, armor, vehicles and Wonder Base, communicate.”
The General gave Walter a stern look. “Also, your company would gain patent rights to any discoveries your research here produces along the way.”
“Rights my company pays dearly for through our continuous investment in research and development,” said Walter, “rights to ideas and patents that might never materialize without our participation.”
“It sounds interesting,” said Susan. To the General she said, “I’d like to help.”
As the General considered Susan’s idea Walter quickly said, “Your help would be most appreciated. Not only are you intimately familiar with the Cassiopeian artifacts, but your background is in applied technology.”
Susan shrugged. “Kind of,” she said, “I was studying to be a biomedical engineer…”
Walter smiled. “When studying alien technology one never knows what field of expertise will yield insights. I recently had a specialist in bats phone me about Eridanian landing gear. You never know.”
The conversation continued well into the evening, and eventually the General begged off because he needed to be in Washington early the next morning. Susan found herself very much enjoying Walter’s company. He had quite a history, almost as long as Matt’s, in fighting alien monsters, and had many good stories.
“So I’m fighting these alien crab things, and I’m alone because the Wonder Heroes are off-world dealing with the Venusian Fibonacci. I suddenly realize that these crab things are robots, and that their attack patterns are remotely coordinated from a central computer. Now I can keep on fighting, and barely hold them at bay, or I can stop defending the city and work on a computer virus that will take them all out.”
Susan remembered reading something about this attack after it happened, but was foggy on the details. “Everything worked out though, right?”
“Yes, because as I fought the monsters, I opened up a direct link to my top computer people at the same time, talking them through my idea.” Again Susan detected Walter’s somehow endearing trait of false modesty. He had the almost unique ability to brag without seeming to. “I somehow found the strength to both fight the crab robots and program a disruptive computer virus.”
“That’s amazing.”
“How about you, Susan?” Walter reached out a hand and touched Susan’s Wonder Gauntlet. “You’ve had some harrowing experiences recently, like that Washington, DC thing in October.”
Susan thought back to the day the dead walked, the day the late Paul Kettles had taken back her Wonder Gauntlet. “You know what’s funny? Fighting off the living dead isn’t what bothers me. Meeting Wonder Hero Imperial was weird, but somehow no big deal…”
Walter said nothing, but encouraged Susan to keep talking with his eyes.
“What really gets me about that day is that I lost the gauntlet, I was finally free of it, and yet I put it back on without more than a moment’s hesitation.”
“I would think that you would want all this.” Walter raised his hands, gesturing at the Wonder Base and all that it signified. “The Wonder Heroes are the most revered people in the world. You are a hero and an inspiration. A savior of the world.”
“I had plans,” countered Susan, “I had school. I had an almost boyfriend, and a future that was starting to come into focus.” She held up the gauntlet. “Now I have this. Alien monsters and super heroics and a lifespan that can be measured in months rather than decades.”
“Susan,” Walter began, “the gauntlets…”
“Are a gift?” Susan guessed, “Only the most special are allowed to wield them?”
“I was going to say that in all the world, perhaps the universe, you are unique.”
Complements made Susan frown.
Walter smiled. “You are unique because the gauntlets, once bonded to a host, cannot be removed, except, it turns out, under most extraordinary circumstances. You are unique because you are the only person to have ever made the decision to become a Wonder Hero, twice.”
Susan thought about that.
“You say you want an ordinary life, but when the option to escape that life comes along, you take it.” Walter held up two fingers. “Twice.”
“I thought you were a physics guy, not a psychologist.”
“I am a master of many disciplines,” smiled Walter.
Susan returned the smile. “Listen, I’ve been watching Kurosawa movies, on Theodore’s recommendation, so would you like to join me?”
Walter frowned. “Is this because I’m Japanese?”
“What?” said Susan, surprised at the question, “No. I’m really watching them. Tonight it’s Ran.”
“Okay,” Walter nodded, “then maybe we can catch some Godzilla films and play Pokemon.”
Susan stopped short. “You’re teasing me, right?”
Walter smiled. “Right,” he said, “I’d love to watch a film with you.”
Hanzo Ueda arrived at the Tokyo Detention Center in the Katsushika-ku part of the city in true style. A chauffeured black limousine drove him through the security gates and onto the prison grounds. Hanzo exited the vehicle and extended a hand to help Junko from the car before leading her up the short path to the visitor’s center.
Walking into the detention center next to Junko, Hanzo felt like a real man for the first time in his life. Junko was the kind of girl who would not have so much as glanced his way in Hanzo’s previous life. With Junko’s help Hanzo had learned to dress in a style more appropriate to his new station in life. The clothes he now wore were worth more than everything he used to own at the time of his grandfather’s death.
Thanks to the legacy of his grandfather, Hanzo was the leader of the Kaiju Cult, an ancient order that worshipped giant alien monsters known as the Neboukichan. His word was law, and his followers were more than willing to supply him with the wealth he needed to travel in such elegance and dressed in such finery.
Junko was eager to visit her father, Miyo Mabuki, the man who had sacrificed himself at Hanzo’s command, and had become a hero within the cult. Hanzo had ordered Junko’s father to allow himself to be captured, and to give up the location of the final six Neboukichan. Hanzo and Miyo both knew that the older man would be imprisoned for the rampage of the giant alien monsters Modesty and Innocence, and would be charged with terrorism and murder. Awaiting trial, he was allowed few visitors, exceptions made only for his daughter and future son-in-law.
At the door to the visitor’s center Hanzo stopped Junko and pulled her close to him. He kissed her passionately and she kissed him back. Hanzo had never felt such intensity of feeling before. This, he realized, was true love. He tried to avoid having to reconcile his newfound love and sense of attachment to the world with the coming apocalypse he planned to soon unleash. His fealty to the Kaiju Cult demanded that Hanzo usher in an era of death. Everyone, including Hanzo, Junko and the love they now shared, would die in the coming genocide.
Hanzo looked into Junko’s eyes. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but from the leader of a monster death cult these sentiments seemed inappropriate. He felt his love reflected in her eyes, but how could he ever be sure? Wordlessly Hanzo brushed the hair away from Junko’s beautiful face, and then together they entered the detention center.
Inside was clean, orderly, and more open than Hanzo had expected. Guards led them to a small meeting room equipped with table, chairs and cameras. The room was sterile and white. Hanzo and Junko sat side-by-side and waited. Minutes later a guard led Miyo Mabuki into the room and then exited, locking the door behind him. Miyo was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, and his hands and feet were shackled. He smiled at his daughter but would not look at Hanzo.
Junko sat down across from her father. “Father,” she said, without emotion, “How are you being treated?”
“Fine. They are not interested in talking to me, or reforming me, or forcing me to talk. They seem content to mere
ly imprison me.” Miyo Mabuki looked at his daughter, and his eyes, usually so fierce, were moist. “It is good to see you, my daughter.”
If he expected to see love in his daughter’s eyes, or compassion or even empathy at his plight, he was disappointed. Junko was a true believer in and follower of the ways of the Kaiju Cult, it was the way her father had raised her, and now he was reaping from her heart what he had sown: nothing.
“Hanzo’s scheme is working perfectly.” She said, “The authorities have excavated all the Neboukichan and are transporting them to some open land near Narita Airport.”
“Good for Hanzo.” Said Miyo dryly, “I’m sure, however, that the Neboukichan will be well guarded…”
Hanzo barked a short laugh and turned his back on the old man. He glanced out the observation window at the other visitors and criminals seated at other tables with his newfound sense of superiority and self-importance. The people, the guards, the prisoners and even the very society and laws they all represented would soon be washed away as easily as an automobile wiper washes away dead bugs from a windshield.
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