SG: Subtler Than Light #5 (3/3): Monkey

[Gary W. Olson]

(continued from part two, preceding...)

***

Esteban gasped twice. Once as the real-world walls of Mr. Tep's Alehouse
rematerialized around them. Again as real-time reasserted itself and made
his head suddenly throb.

Next to him, Rumi looked around, momentarily taken aback by the abrupt
collapse of the telepathic illusion they'd shared. To Esteban, it was
mildly startling to see the black-haired, brilliant-eyed woman in
Nectaspace seemingly replaced by the red-haired, masked 'real world'
version, but he said nothing. 'Mildly startling' was a veritable balm to
him, compared to the torment of before.

*El Esbirro del Traje,* Coco repeated, as he, Coco, and Rumi scrambled
around and over and around (respectively) the corner booth table. The
massive form of Los Pantalones blossomed over Esteban's legs, even as the
control mask descended from his headband to cover his face. *In English,
the Hench of the Suit... will be here in ten seconds.*

Esteban looked over at the bartender, who, on seeing Esteban shift into
being El Guerrero de Los Pantalones had grabbed the cash register and was
almost at the front door, following the few other patrons the bar had at
that time of day.

"This is going on your tab, Este!" the bartender shouted, a moment before
he was gone.

Five seconds later, half the roof of the establishment shattered.

El Guerrero de Los Pantalones was in the air before the pieces hit the
floor, and knew he didn't have to look behind him to see that
Rumi--Psywave--was rising as well. They flew around their sun-silhouetted
assailant, buffeting them with nectarisite bullets and psychokinetic
blasts. Whoever it was yelped and flew back until they were almost over the
ocean.

El Esbirro del Traje floated before them. There was no doubt in Esteban's
mind now... it *was* the top half of the armor of which Los Pantalones was
the bottom half, exactly as Gigawatt had predicted years before. If the
enormous size, bronze-gold coloration, and needlessly ostentatious rococo
flourishes in ornamentation didn't make it obvious, there were the pale and
hairy legs dangling beneath, even more awkward looking than Esteban's torso
projecting from his Trousers.

"Esbirro!" yelled Esteban, though he had formed a guess, based on where
Coco had said the suit had flown in from and on how silly he looked, as to
who was under the shell. "You've picked a bad time to drop in. Maybe we can
talk instead of--"

"Look out!" Psywave yelled.

El Esbirro's chestplate opened up to reveal a cannon. Even as his mask
switched him back into time dilation mode, he barely avoided the beam that
shot from it. He retaliated with beams from calf-mounted guns as he shot
upward.

*Wanna try our old moves, see if we still got it?* Rumi asked through their
link.

"Routine 8!" he yelled back.

He fired a larger projectile at the Esbirro, who zipped left to evade...
and was surprised when it curved around and struck him on an exposed thigh.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh!" El Esbirro yelled, spinning out of control for a few
seconds. Esteban saw no damage to the hairy leg, and guessed El Esbirro was
using a nectarisite-generated energy field to protect his exposed bits the
same way he did. "The hell just happened?"

"We did, Esbirro!" said Psywave, as the projectile, which had been falling,
curved back up under her psychokinetic control and shot toward a
potentially more vulnerable bit that was below the Esbirro's
armor-delineated waistline. "El Guerrero and Psywave, together again! Ah...
for the first time!"

Their top-heavy foe flipped upside down, catching the projectile moments
before impact and flinging it with force at El Guerrero. It struck his
chest and glanced away, sending a blossom of pain through Esteban's
shoulder. He looked down and saw blood.

*It partially penetrated your force field,* Coco told him. *He must have
given it a counter charge."

*But how?* Esteban asked him, as he, Psywave, and the now-upright Esbirro
circled one another. *I... this morning! That clinches it!*

"Let's talk, Esbirro!" he called. "Or should I say... Programmer?"

"*The!*" the top-half-golden figure yelled. "*The* Programmer! Or El
Programador del Traje! I can work with that!"

*Oh, not this dip again,* Rumi groaned.

*He got at Los Pantalones with his tentacles when we fought this morning,*
thought-spoke El Guerrero. *Brief contact, but enough for him to peel some
info on my defenses.* He gave his opponent a mock salute. "Pretty
impressive," he said out loud. "Hiding your suit like that. And here I
thought what I was doing was clever. Though it's gotta hurt having that
much metal inside you."

"Ahh, internal organs are overrated," said The Programmer. "You're probably
wondering how I came to have what you call 'El Traje' in the first place."

"You can tell me from behind bars," said Esteban. "Now maybe--"

Tentacles shot from The Programmer's gauntlets, bridging the gap between
them in an instant. The 360-degree field of vision his mask gave him
flickered and fizzed as The Programmer invaded his systems, just as he had
that morning.

This time, Coco was ready for him.

"Aaaaaaaahhh!" The Programmer yelled. Esteban couldn't see what cybernetic
and audio-visual terrors Coco was sending through their foe's nectarisitic
tentacles, but knew it had to be terrible. "Noooo! Nooo! Gene Wilder
*shouldn't* have replaced Gene Hackman in 'Goncharov's' disco massacre
sequence! The subversion of the meaning of the Molotov mirror ball makes
sense only if it's Hackman throwing it at Harvey Keitel!"

With a final burst of static and puzzling hot takes, The Programmer's
tentacles fell away from Los Pantalones. Psywave peppered him with
psychokinetic blasts, some against his armored half, some against his
force-field-protected-but-still-squishy lower half. The villain peeled away.

*He's heading for the pier!* Psywave called.

*Wait!* El Guerrero replied. *I'm reading distortions... incoming monkeys!*

The demon monkeys were on them both a moment later, exploding into
existence above, below, and, as much as they could, on them both. Psywave
repulsed them at once, but the ones on El Guerrero clung with tenacity as
they tried to drive their claws through his top half's energy field.

As he fought them off, Esteban noted these demon monkeys were wearing loud
Hawaiian shirts and shorts, along with adorable 'Gilligan' caps. The
Programmer's monkeys, he remembered from that morning. The fight had just
gotten a lot more difficult.

"Ha ha!" The Programmer ha-ha'd, having ceased his escape on the sudden
appearance of his hired allies. "Now if you'll just hold still, I'll have
Letha finalize the transfer link, and we'll... hey! No fair!"

Esteban was unsure what The Programmer was suddenly finding unfair, though
the buzzing surge he felt in his legs suggested Coco was fighting back
using whatever Nectaspace 'link' that 'Letha' had been surreptitiously
forging. His legs jerked and swayed beneath him, while The Programmer
flailed and spun.

"Nooo," The Programmer wimpered. "I *don't* think Yury Mitsuke should play
Katya in a 'Goncharov' remake! And replacing Ice Pick Joe with a CGI sheep
*isn't* genius, actually, even if Templar Maccabee agrees to play Mario!
The discourse... the diiiiiisssscouuuurssse..."

Then with a hard cracking sound, the flailing stopped, as did the buzz.

*Mono Traje is shut out,* Coco reported. *Get him before she can try again!*

*Try what?* Rumi asked.

Before Coco could answer, three demon monkeys appeared from thin air and
dropped onto her back, forming a chain that kept them on even though they
couldn't get their paws on her costume or her skin. When they vanished a
second later, she was unprepared for the nectarisite beam that struck her
face.

*Rumi!* he thought-yelled as she fell.

*Fuuuuuuuuuuuhhh,* she responded, righting herself before she could hit the
beach.

*Coco, you contact the STL?*

*Affirmative!* the bonobo replied. *They have peeps already en route!*

Even as Coco spoke, Esteban saw a jetpack-wearing werefox soar past and
slash at several demon monkeys. They disappeared before she could cut them
and reappeared at her back, claws raised to strike... only to be struck
themselves by the silver-furred, jetpack-wearing werewolf who'd been flying
up from below.

"Miko! Apples!" Esteban yelled, on recognizing two of the weres from his
brother's pack. "The Programmer... the other gold suit guy... he's getting
away!"

Whatever Coco had managed to do had evidently rattled his opponent so much
that 'try again' had sunk below 'run away' as the strategy to follow. The
Programmer was also apparently struggling with elevation as he fled, his
bare feet trailing in the water a couple times as he struggled to control
his flight. Esteban wondered if he'd be able to get over or around the pier
he was heading towards.

More demon monkeys appeared in mid-air before him, though a third
jetpack-wearing were... Miguel, Esteban realized... swept through them
seconds later.

"Go!" Miko yelled. "We'll keep these mother ookers off your back!"

Ventura Beach's historic pier held its usual complement of joggers,
fishers, strollers, tourists, beggars, character actors, and
pencil-mustachioed agents. They scattered as The Programmer managed just
enough elevation to get above the pier before he fell into the center of
the octagonal platform at its end.

"Hold, El Guerrero!" The Programmer called. He lifted his arms and pointed
them to his left and his right, where pockets of unlucky civilians
trembled. "Back off or I open fire."

Eight Hawaiian-shirt-wearing demon monkeys materialized around his bare
feet, adopting fighting stances.

"Oooh!" an unlucky civilian exclaimed. "Their little hats! Get a picture,
Earl! Rayne, get behind us!"

As a small pink-haired girl, evidently named Rayne, hid behind a
middle-aged red-one-piece-suit-wearing woman's legs, Earl, a balding man in
a striped bathing suit, raised his phone and tapped at the screen several
times. He frowned and looked at his companions.

"Camera won't work, Ethel," he said. "You mess with the settings again?"

Ethel bopped him and took his phone. Rayne giggled. Behind them, a large,
two-headed man in a trenchcoat carefully folded his cardboard sign up and
tucked it away.

Esteban set down on the edge of the platform, his armored legs between The
Programmer and any escape that didn't involve flying or sinking. Psywave
set down to his right. Miguel Veracruz set down at Esteban's left.

"What's going on, Wolf Guy?" Esteban asked his brother, using the code name
Miguel had formerly used in his superguying days.

"Found this idiot in a rent-a-lair under the playground equipment in that
park you were in this morning," Miguel said. "Had things under control
until we learned we didn't. I sent Miko and Apples back to Tep's to see if
anyone was hurt."

"People got out before this creep wrecked the place," said Esteban. "Now..."

He trailed off as Galaxy Hunter landed on the platform's northern edge,
next to Psywave.

"It's okay," said Esteban, as Miguel looked at the new arrival with
concern. "They're on our side. Stay focused on The Programmer..."

Esteban trailed off as he noticed Coco had emerged from the right thigh of
Los Pantalones, already in the same fighting outfit and Prince Valiant
hairstyle he'd sported in battle that morning. Before he could ask what
Coco was even doing, he saw a monkey leap out of the nectarisite of The
Programmer's suit.

It was small and graceful, and appeared to be wearing a military uniform of
some kind, though the uniform was made of the same bronze-gold metal as the
monkey itself. The Demon Monkeys in the Hawaiian shirts parted as the
monkey landed in front of El Esbirro.

"That's not a bonobo," said Psywave. "Or a howler."

"What is it then?" Galaxy Hunter asked, scrutinizing the new monkey's face,
which was thinner than the howler-monkey-like face of the Demon Monkeys,
but not as chimpanzee-like as the bonobo-face of Coco. It held up its paws
as if in surrender, though its face betrayed no sign of distress at being
surrounded. As it did, Esteban noticed the three starbursts on its belly,
and the circle around them.

The symbol of the Hidden Empire, the rulers of the world-within-the-world
in the Aetheric Dimension.

"Looks like one'a dem Reeses Pieces monkeys," said the Kris head of the
two-headed man in the trenchcoat next to Earl, rubbing his (Kris's, not
Earl's) beard.

"That's Rhesus, dummy!" Kram, his other head, snapped at him.

"Ain't that what I said?"

"Oh, fer..." The Programmer started. "It's a macaque!"

"What?" Esteban asked, thinking fast. "We're in public!"

"Yeah!" Psywave added, as he knew she would. "You just gonna let it hang
out like that?"

"Think of the children!" Miguel added.

"Close yer eyes, kid," Galaxy Hunter instructed. Rayne looked bewildered at
them. Kris and Kram squinted.

"What are you even... oh," said The Programmer, finally getting what they
were suggesting and sounding very annoyed about it. "Come on! Grow up,
would you?"

They snickered at him.

"And back off while you're at it! There aren't enough of you to keep the
non-combatants trapped here safe from my guns!"

"Let them go," the macaque ordered, in a voice that was feminine, clipped,
and free of the slightly-high edge that characterized Coco's speech, and
audible to everyone present. "It is unworthy of you to threaten them,
Esbirro... Programmer..."

"*The!*"

She glared.

"Letha... oh, fine!" The Programmer said, looking around. "Any'a you want
to split, go on. But do it quick if you're gonna..."

His voice trailed off as Earl, Ethel, Rayne, and a dozen other people
sprinted past Esteban and down the long pier leading to the beach.
Kris/Kram watched them depart, shrugged, and scratched his left neck. After
watching the civilians go, Coco and Esteban turned back to face their
adversaries.

"Thank you, Mono Traje," Coco said through his chest-mounted external
speaker. "Do you wish to discuss terms of surrender?"

This seemed to amuse the demon monkeys who resumed their tight formation
and fighting stances around The Programmer.

"The only terms of surrender we'll here are the terms of *your* surrender,
Mono Pantalon," Letha answered. Miguel bristled at the words. "Or you can
just let us go. We've already accomplished what we set out to do."

*Coco...* Esteban thought-spoke.

*If we have been invaded,* Coco replied, his eyes never leaving Letha, *I
am not detecting it. Though it is possible it will take a deep scan to
fully be sure, and that would require downtime.*

"Speaking of going," said The Programmer, "I'm getting readings that we've
got full control again. What say we make like a banana and peel?"

Everyone--human, bonobo, macaque, howler, were, and whatever Kris/Kram was,
gave The Programmer an exasperated look.

"It's too late to run," Letha replied.

"She's... right," The Programmer said, before heaving a huge sigh. He
sagged. "Who... what am I even doing here? Why is this armor bronze-gold
instead of grey-and-black?"

The demon monkeys with The Programmer seemed similarly afflicted with
sudden onset melancholy. A couple sat down, pulled out paper, and started
alternately writing and sighing. Esteban looked at Rumi, who pointed behind
him.

Esteban looked over his shoulder at Kid Gothic, who had one hand
outstretched toward The Programmer and his demon monkeys, while the other
clutched his smartphone. He recalled that Kid's powerset was, broadly,
'making people feel vaguely bad in a gothic way.' He'd never seen the Kid
actually use it before, and was surprised at its impact. A couple of the
monkeys were already smoking clove cigarettes and ooking sarcastically at
Letha.

"ICBINI said the head Rock Lobber was on the pier," said Kid Gothic, when
he noticed Esteban's look. "Which is weird, because earlier it was saying I
should go to the Skate park and mess with the punks there. You think I
should reins--"

A nectarisite-beam shot over Esteban's shoulder and struck Kid Gothic's
phone hand, spinning him around and sending the phone flying. The eyes of
the demon monkeys widened, and they immediately resumed their earlier
aggressive stances...

...but not in time! Eight more Demon Monkeys, these wearing
sharply-tailored black-and-white three-piece suits, appeared above the
Hawaiian-shirt-wearing Demon Monkeys and drove their targets to the ground.
Letha hissed and leaped back into El Traje, which rippled like liquid as
she disappeared within. Similarly, Coco leaped back into Los Pantalones.

"Look out!" Miguel yelled. "They're... uh... not teleporting away?"

To Esteban's surprise, and apparently that of the Hawaiian-shirt-wearing
Demon Monkeys, no teleportational escape was happening. They wailed as
their black-suited captors hefted them to their feet and bound their arms
behind them.

"We've got you at last, The Programmer," said a mezzo-soprano voice Esteban
couldn't place, though he was sure he'd heard it before somewhere. "Did you
think you could thumb your nose at us forever?"

"What's going on?" Psywave asked, looking about her. "Who said that?"

Who said that became clear moments later, as before them appeared, either
through teleportation or decloaking, a nearly six-foot-tall human-shaped
person in a long black cloak, black trousers, red gloves, red boots, and a
red hood that obscured most of their face except for their ruby-red lips
and near-white chin. Part of a black-and-red symbol was on their... her?...
face, though Esteban couldn't make out what it was, exactly.

It felt familiar, though. Familiar... and frightening.

"Dweller!" The Programmer exclaimed. "Mess 'em up! My boys and I'll--"

"Quiet, traitor," 'Dweller,' answered. "Did you think we'd never catch up
to you? I'm taking you back to the boss before you can spill everything to
these slobs."

"Hey," said Galaxy Hunter.

"I think she means us," said Kris.

"Can I lick your armor, when this is done?" Kram asked.

Galaxy Hunter looked at Kris/Kram, then edged away a bit.

The Dweller spared a look at Galaxy Hunter.

"Another one," she said. "Not even the one assigned to this sector. But we
were told... hmmm. Is that Elle Sanguine under that metal?"

"Where did you get that name?" Galaxy Hunter asked. Esteban started... had
someone been listening in when he and Rumi had been talking in Nectaspace?

The Dweller didn't answer. Nor did Galaxy Hunter.

"'Traitor?'" The Programmer asked, evidently not caring who was under
Hunter's armor. "After all I've done for you, Dweller? I was following
*our* boss's orders!"

Even as The Programmer pleaded, Esteban kept his eyes on the Dweller. He
*had* seen her before. Or, at least, heard a description that matched hers.
Only... not like this. In a book. A very old book.

"The Dweller in the Shades?" he asked.

The Dweller stared at him for a few moments before nodding.

"I... apologize... for this henchman's attack on your _Subtler Than
Light,_" she said. "His renegade behavior is our fault. He escaped our
control years ago, and abandoned all the disciplines we imposed."

"You're not... Richard Cartier, I take it," Esteban said.

"No," the Dweller replied, her mouth acquiring a smirk.

"Hey!" The Programmer yelled. "I'm no traitor! I demand--"

What The Programmer demanded remained unclear, as a large black circle
appeared beneath him. He fell abruptly into it and was silenced. The suited
Demon Monkeys bodily picked up their Hawaiian-shirt-wearing captive Demon
Monkeys and leaped in after him.

"Until we meet again," said the Dweller, as she took a step back. Esteban
realized what was about to happen, but the Dweller in the Shades had
already dropped from sight before he could utter a sound, avoiding a
psychokinetic shot from Psywave. The black circle into which everyone had
vanished drew down to the size of a dot before popping into nonexistence.

Esteban, Psywave, Galaxy Hunter, and Miguel looked at the space on the
platform where their quarry had been for long moments before looking at one
another.

"Did that make sense to anybody?" Esteban asked.

"My hand hurts," Kid Gothic whined.

"Why do you taste like ancient aeons?" Kram asked, his rough tongue just
leaving Galaxy Hunter's shoulder plate. Hunter glared at him. Kris grimaced
and bit Kram's ear.


DID THAT MAKE SENSE TO ANYBODY?
WHY DOES GALAXY HUNTER TASTE LIKE ANCIENT AEONS?
IS THAT ANYTHING LIKE TASTING LIKE KEITH RICHARDS?
WHO IS THIS GALAXY HUNTER, ANYWAY?
IS SHE ELLE SANGUINE, OR SOMEONE ELSE?
WHO IS THE NEW DWELLER IN THE SHADES?
WHY DOES SHE CALL THE PROGRAMMER A TRAITOR?
WHY DOES THE PROGRAMMER INSIST THAT HE ISN'T A TRAITOR?
WHY IS HE LETTING A METAL MACAQUE NAMED LETHA BOSS HIM AROUND?
WILL KID GOTHIC CONTINUE BOOSTING HIS SUPERGUYING WITH THE HELP OF ICBINI?
IS IT SUSPECT THAT ICBINI HAD KID GOTHIC INTERVENE AS HE DID?
IS THE GONCHAROV REMAKE HEADING TO NETFLIX?
WILL OUR HEROES EVER FIND KAZZA LAMISSK, OR EVEN LEARN WHERE TO GO LOOK?

Hope you like suspense, because absolutely none of these questions will be
answered next time, mainly because we're headed over to Malaga, New Mexico
to see what the heck is going on with that subplot, only on... SUPERGUY!
--
Subtler Than Light #5 (c) 2023 by Gary W. Olson. All Rights Reserved.

For behind-the-scenes notes on this episode, visit my posting in
the Superguy List community on LiveJournal:
https://superguy-list.livejournal.com/41779.html

Gary W. Olson LinkTree: https://linktr.ee/gwox
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