SG: Subtler Than Light #1 (2/2) - In Ape Law

[Gary W. Olson]

(Concluded from part one, prededing...)

***

"That's my hair, Cam!" Johnny Clark groaned.

"I gotta hang on somehow," Camila said, as if explaining something to a
dimwit. "Where should we hide?"

"We're not hiding, fuzzface," said Johnny. "Just getting you out of
possible harm's way." He peered at the smoke billowing from the side of the
_Subtler Than Light,_ and at Miguel Veracruz as he disappeared into it.
"Hope everyone's okay."

He wondered if he should disregard Esteban and Miguel and go to the
_Subtler Than Light._ If people were trapped under any debris, they could
use his strength and mass-negation abilities to shift it. If anyone had a
harrowing tale of being bothered by monkeys, he could film it... no,
scratch that, he'd set his camera to follow Esteban, and it would do so
until it got the recall code sent from his phone. But his phone had a
camera, so...

Just as he thought of it, said phone rang. He glanced at who was calling,
ready to deny it and begin his search for a place to lay low with his young
charge, then decided to answer when he saw who it was.

"What, mom?" he asked.

"Where are you?" the voice of Key Li Pan--aka MeltDown--demanded.

"Who's that?" Camila asked.

"Sssh," Johnny said, looking around. All of a sudden, everything around him
seemed very loud, and very not where he should be. "Mom! I'm at the job
fair! Like I told Aunt Yury! Did she call you?"

A loud crashing noise nearly overwhelmed the phone speakers.

"We didn't have much time to talk," his mother shouted over the ensuing
explosions. "She said her head hurt, and I shouldn't believe anything the
tabloids she owns say in the next two weeks about her and the cast of 'Blue
Bloods.' Also, you weren't there last night."

Camila looked up at the peacock-hat of an elderly lady who was also
watching the unfolding disaster, and leapt. Without looking, Johnny caught
her before she could pounce on her feathered prey.

"Hey!" she squealed.

"I say," said the woman.

"What was that?" Key asked. "I... wait a minute. Hey! Drop those
cyber-weasels this instant, Doctor Sleaze!"

Johnny set Camila down, while the woman with the hat haughtily stalked away
to get a better view of the carnage. Camila, bored with listening in on
Johnny and all the laser sounds and explosions coming from his phone,
looked around at the other people watching the aftermath of the _Subtler
Than Light's_ blast.

"I stayed over on the STL last night," Johnny said, when the sounds of
transmitted battle dipped. "Esteban's helping me sort through possible
night classes." When he can look up from his work, he silently added.

"You should check the Puncher Institute," she said, at once sounding
excited. "Yuri and I went there back when we first got powers. I mean, it's
no Academy, but... oh, I'm doing it again."

"It's okay, mom," Johnny told her, and resolved to at least drop by the
Institute later on, if he could compel himself to find it, and if it was
the season for it to be in phase with reality. "Anyway, I'm at the job fair
now, so..."

"Good, good!" Key said. "Should I fly out there after this? Yury means
well, but she tends to be easily distr... oh, dear! Watch out for those
support col---"

Further crashing sounds drowned out the warning. Johnny grimaced... then
noticed the red-feathered utahraptor.

Growing up, Johnny never saw raptors of any kind on the streets of
Megapolis, even on days when his father--the noble if somewhat erratic hero
Mighty Guy--was out of town and the construction crews had openings to
clear the debris and refabricate some of the better-liked buildings. No one
else on the street seemed to be paying it much mind, though Johnny couldn't
tell if that was because they were gawking at what had happened to the
_Subtler Than Light_ or if a six-and-a-half-foot-tall red raptor sneaking
past them and into a doorway carrying a large bronze-gold bust of Neil
Degrasse Tyson was just some ordinary Wednesday morning happening in Venice
Beach. Or both.

"As Bore-All is my father," his dad's voice suddenly erupted from his
phone, "your poorly-constructed lair shall not slow our pursuit of justice!"

The furtive raptor looked around, then slipped into the bookstore.

"This is almost wrapped up," said Key. "Sleaze is out of cyber-weasels and
dildroids, and I think he's getting ramped up for his last defiant 'you'll
never catch me' speech. I'll be out there later today, Johnny..."

"No, mom!" Johnny exclaimed, panicking in a way mere explosions couldn't
cause. "Besides, doesn't my sister have band practice, or, ah, what is it,
cheerleading today? Or something? Anything?"

"I don't think..." More crashing drowned Key out momentarily. "...oh, wait,
Soon Yee has her Girl Scouts meeting at three, and then her bomb-defusing
class... you're right. You're sure you'll be okay, then?"

"Right as rain, mom," Johnny said, as he looked around for Camila. "Getting
super-employed and..." He trailed off, realizing Camila was nowhere to be
seen. "...stuff," he finished with a high squeak.

"Ok, gotta go," said Key. "Love you." The call ended before he could
respond.

Johnny looked around, eyes wide. The crowd had thinned somewhat, with
people heading in the general direction of the _Subtler Than Light_ now
that no more monkeys were issuing from it, but Camila still wasn't in
sight. He could see the old lady whose hat she'd been stalking, but both
lady and hat were undisturbed.

"Miguel's gonna kill me," Johnny groaned. "Cendra's gonna kill me, too.
They'll probably take turns."

He tried to collect his thoughts. Anyone who tried to abduct the girl
would've discovered by now that even young werewolves made bad kidnapping
targets, and there wasn't any face-flesh on the sidewalk that he could see.
Which meant she was probably stalking something colorful and interesting.

Almost against his will, Johnny turned to regard the bookstore door
again... just in time to see it open, and a small, brown-furred girl slip
inside, a predatory grin on her young face.

"Um," he said.

Nothing else sprang to mind as a follow-up. So, after taking a deep breath
and pocketing his phone, he headed for the bookstore door.

A bell jingled as he stepped in.

The sunlight was muted as it filtered through the tinted shop windows. The
air was slightly musty, and dust particles floated lazily past the checkout
counter on the left and the ancient-looking black leather couches on the
right by the stairs. A sign on the counter prompted patrons to 'Ask Alexa'
about locations of books they sought. The coiled yellow light bulbs
overhead, though they were on, seemed lost in a warm golden haze.

"Cam?" Johnny whisper-called. "You in here?"

Only silence replied.

"Danger," he whisper-added. "No games. Get back here."

Still silence.

Then, a sound he had never heard before. Brittle, yet liquid, something
flowing that knew it shouldn't be. A flicker made him look up.

The bulbs, now uncoiled, undulated in his direction like tiny Tron snakes.
After a few moments, their ends swung around and pointed unmistakably
toward the stairs.

"Um... thanks?" said Johnny.

The bulb-snakes shifted again, looping around to form an imitation of a
human fist with an upward-pointing thumb. Then they returned to their
standard coily-bulb configurations and returned to ordinary luminosity.

They could've just projected an arrow on the wall, he thought.

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard something say 'sssh.' Nobody
like Camila, or anyone else he knew.

Johnny crept to the top.

There were more books on the second floor, along with some shelves of
Blu-Rays, DVDs, CDs, LaserDiscs, LPs, eight-track tapes, and cassettes. The
end behind Johnny, which he only briefly glanced at through the railing
surrounding the stairwell, featured more couches, a large-screen
television, and a couple ashtrays. A lingering cannabis aroma tickled his
nostrils.

Camila was at the other end of the room, in the lap of a well-tanned blonde
woman in a blue tank top and jean cutoffs. Behind them was a wall that had
possibly once displayed posters, though all Johnny could see now were fresh
scorch marks. A book was in front of them, but neither was looking at it.
Instead, they were watching Johnny.

"Um... Cam?" said Johnny. "You... you okay?"

"Hi, Johnny!" Camila replied, adding a wave. "Miss Rydell, can Johnny come
up and meet our friend?"

"Er," was what Miss Rydell had to say on the subject. She was prevented
from saying more by the massive roar that split the air. It felt like the
source was just an inch above his scalp.

He looked up. Where only moments before nothing loomed save a stucco
ceiling, now loomed the menacing jaws of the red-feathered raptor.

"I warned you!" he heard them hiss, moments before they lunged forward and
slammed their jaws shut on his head.

"Ew," Johnny groaned, as his face got a full helping of raptor tongue.
Their sharp teeth, meanwhile, pressed ineffectually against his skin.

"Hmmm!" their voice hummed through him. "Whhh gnnn nnn hrrr?"

"You can't... ew... look, I don't use tongue this early on the first date,
could you... ew!"

With what felt like reluctance, the raptor's jaws opened slightly, and
Johnny was able to stagger backward into musty bookstore air. He looked at
the red-feathered beast with annoyance, while they wiggled their now-sore
jaw.

"Okay, two questions," said the raptor. The black vertical slits of their
golden eyes oriented on him, one at a time. "One, how is it your head is
still on its shoulders, monkey? And two, why do you taste like rancid
cheddar?"

"Ha!" ha-d Johnny. "I'm half-Heliumian, half radioactive-Spam-irridated
metahuman, both halves combining to give me mass-negating abilities and
super-strength, along with invulnerabilty to most forms of physical attack!"

The raptor frowned at this.

"As for the second question," Johnny said, "I use Phoot Body Spray!" He
paused. "Hey, why rancid cheddar, specifically?"

Inasmuch as a raptor could look embarassed, this one did. "The surface
world is a confusing place." They shook their head. "Never mind. Get over
there with those two. Though you disregarded my last warning, I'll give you
another chance. As the sworn protector of Sol Selegna, I give you my word,
as I did to them, I'll spare you if you do not interfere."

Johnny considered. Though the raptor still had a menacing aspect, he could
see in their movements that they were injured. Their left calf wobbled a
bit as they maneuvered on sharp-clawed feet, and their right arm didn't
seem to want to lift too far from their side.

"Do what she says, please," said Miss Rydell. "I'd rather none of us got
shot at."

Johnny made a 'pfssh' noise. "I might be a superguy school washout," he
said, "but I can take on a bitey thief any day."  He narrowed his eyes.
"Especially someone who set off a bomb and probably hurt friends of mine."

"I didn't..." the raptor started.

Johnny leapt.

She dropped to her right, faster than he'd anticipated, and struck out with
her left leg. Though her claws couldn't tear through his stomach, she hit
with enough force to knock him into a bookshelf, sending books toppling to
the tile floor.

Unfazed, Johnny moved to attack again.

The raptor's left arm went up... and her red feathers suddenly glowed white
hot.  They turned to light--

--and slammed into his shoulder.

A sensation blossomed through Johnny's nerves, washing from his shoulder
through his body, hitting his toes and fingers before rebounding into his
head. A short, sharp scream escaped his throat, and he struggled to stay on
his feet.

The portion of his shirt that had been covering his shoulder was gone.
Beneath it was bloodied skin.

Blood. *His* blood. Johnny stared at it as if he'd never seen it before.

"You may not be as invulnerable as you say," the raptor pointed out.

"How... what did you do?" Johnny asked.

"I shot you with my laser feathers," the raptor replied. "I thought you
caught that part."

"Hey!" Camila yelled. "You said you wouldn't hurt anybody!" The wolf girl
tried to leap from Miss Rydell's lap, but the woman held her firmly by the
waist.

"What I was warned of about the Hidden Heart is true," said the raptor, a
note of alarm in her voice. "My restraint is... not as it should be."

They... she... smiled.

"Take care that yours is. This should be over soon."

"Damn straight it will be," said a new, somewhat sardonic voice. The raptor
whirled, stumbling back on her bad leg into a bookshelf nearly opposite of
where Johnny stood clutching his shoulder.

At the top of the stairs stood a man with light beige skin, short blond
hair, dark sunglasses, and a black business suit with a white shirt and
black tie beneath. A gun was in his right hand, though his finger was off
the trigger. A slight smile played across his youthful features.

"Hey, sis," he said.

Miss Rydell scowled. "Lemon, what are *you* doing here?"

"You know him?" Johnny, Camila, and the raptor simultaneously asked.

"Agent Lemon Rydell," said Lemon, "of the National Intelligence Bureau. I'm
here to take her ladyship here, by whom I mean ki Kazza Malissk--the
*former* sworn protector of Sol Selegna, which is miles away anyway--into
custody."

The utahraptor snarled at Lemon.

"As you monkeys say," Kazza replied, "'You and whose army?'"

"I like you," said Lemon, his grin taking on a dangerous edge. "You know
how to set a cue. Proceed, Agent Chim-Chim."

With tiny poof sounds, eight howler monkeys in impeccably tailored
black-and-white business suits and matching ties and dark sunglasses
appeared in the room, guns drawn. They immediately spun from whatever
direction they'd been facing when they'd teleported in to aim at ki Kazza
Malissk.

"Oh," said Kazza. "Ah... heh."

***

The playground looked out of place, partially shadowed by the 405 freeway
and landlocked between a convenience-store strip mall and a burlesque
theater advertising all-nude kaiju 'straight outta Monsta Island.' At that
hour, motorists made up the bulk of visible activity. All the sidewalks
held were a few tourists, a gigoon and a megaloon in an alley making a
shady exchange with a pterodactyl-like being, and a large guy with a
turtle-shell back rooting in a garbage can for Mothball-knew-what. Another
morning in the seedy northern edge of Little Kaijuville.

There had once been a parking garage in the playground's space. Esteban
knew this because he had been the one to accidentally cause its partial
collapse, back in the last invasion from Monsta Island. He'd also helped
clean up the wreckage after the invasion's end, when the kaiju--reduced to
human size and split into small hordes of lookalikes by a shrinking ray
deployed by good friends of his--ended up here, ready for a fresh start in
a new land.

There was nothing special about the playground built in its place that
Esteban could see. A slide, some swings, teeter totters, a couple
merry-go-rounds, a ravaged-looking scale-model toy nuclear power plant,
some benches. A couple of unhoused humans in parkas on said benches,
passing a bottle back and forth and occasionally leaning down to inhale the
blue smoke rising from the reptilian mouth of a passed-out godziller on the
ground.

<<You should see the Yelp reviews,>> Coco said inside his head.

The Gilligan-hat-wearing, speedo-and-Hawaiian-shirt wearing demon monkeys
swarming much of the playground left the bums alone. They were definitely
the ones he had chased from the _Subtler Than Light,_ but why they'd
stopped their flight here, or what they were looking for, he couldn't make
out. Then his eyes lit on someone he'd missed before: a tall man in a blue
monk's robe, the hood covering his hair and eyes. He made no move, simply
watching the monkeys as they dragged something.

When they reached him, he stood from the horse-on-a-spring he'd been
sitting on and made a slashing motion with his hand. Immediately, the
monkey chatter went silent.

"You... idiots!" the man exclaimed. "That's not what I sent you to acquire!"

It was difficult for Esteban to see, even with his mask magnifying the
scene. There were bits of red, a wheel, and a bronze-gold something or
other, but there were too many monkeys around to tell what it was.

"Well, then," said Esteban to himself. "I'll just have to go a little
closer. Coco... juice up the surface, would you?"

The feel of a low-but-consistent nectarisitic current told him when Los
Pantalones was ready. When they were primed, he descended. Hard.

The demon monkeys vanished nearly in unison when he slammed into the ground
next to the teeter totter, leaving a small crater. The drinkers on the
distant bench jeered. The man in the monk's robe staggered back, then fell
over the horse-on-a-spring. Under his robes were the ragged remains of a
pair of black slacks and a belt with three stars on it.

"Who are you?" asked Esteban, his voice turned deeper and louder by his
mask. "And why did you steal..." He paused, and looked down. "...a
mannequin of a raptor carrying a bronze-gold spray-painted bust of Isaac
from the Love Boat?" He frowned, and looked again. "Wait, what?"

The blue-robed man scrambled to his feet. Esteban still couldn't see his
eyes, but the snarling set to his lips and the grinding of his teeth
indicated he wasn't about to be friendly.

Then the monkeys returned, en masse. They blossomed out of tiny warps in
the air surrounding him, attacking with ferocity... then screaming when
voltage slammed through their paws and up through their nerves.

This time, they didn't so much teleport away as 'stagger erratically away,
groaning and wobbling all the while.'

"So, El Guerrero de Los Pantalones," said the monk man. "We meet again. I
knew we would, eventually, but I had no idea the pleasure would come so
soon."

Esteban searched his memory. He'd fought lots of bad guys as Venice Beach's
defender, from bank robbers to invading kaiju to marauding supervillains to
giant robot Burl Iveses. If the man before him had been among them, he'd
given no special accounting of himself.

"Yeahhh," said Esteban. "You were... that... ah... guy?"

The man sighed, and drew back his hood, exposing his pale, scarred face,
ragged long brown hair, and unkempt failure of an attempt at a grey beard.
His eyes were narrowed, his lips parted in a snarl.

After ten seconds, Esteban guessed, "That guy from 'Saved by the Bell?'"

Rage flashed across the man's features. The surrounding demon monkeys saw
this, looked at Esteban... and grinned.

"No," said the man. "I suppose I don't blame you for forgetting, though. It
was a long time ago. Sixteen years. And a long way from here."

He widened his eyes. His bronze-gold eyes.

"A long way *down* from here."

Esteban snapped his fingers. "Nick Nolte!" he exclaimed.

"No!" the man yelled. Bronze-gold metal shot from his eyes, arcing liquid
ropes that shaped into a bristle of sharp points as they shot toward
Esteban.

"They called me..."

More liquid metal shot from his mouth, joining the menacing blades and
points streaming from his eyes.

"Thh pgmmmmmmth!"

Esteban frowned. The man sagged a bit, then retracted his mouth-metal long
enough to correct himself.

"The Programmer!"

The mouth-metal shot out again, rejoining the eye-metal streams in creating
menacing liquid-metal shapes in the air before Esteban.

<<Beware, Esteban,>> said Coco. <<Those are...>>

Before Coco could finish, the metal struck.

Esteban, expecting an attack on his upper torso, which was only protected
by a thin flow of nectarisitic energy, was surprised when the metal streams
slashed toward Los Pantalones. They struck its charged surface, and
predictably, the Programmer muffle-screamed when the power arced along the
liquid metal back to his skull.

But the metallic ropes didn't loosen.

Seconds later, the scene before Esteban's eyes dissolved into a haze of
static and wavering images.

*Hello, El Guerrero,* The Programmer's grating voice boomed in his head.
*Perhaps now we can talk properly.*

<<Intruder!>> Coco responded. <<Initiate repulsion prot--->>

*Get lost, bonobo,* said The Programmer.

A blob of nectarisite ejected from the right thigh of Los Pantalones and
struck the ground. It rolled until it hit the nearest teeter-totter, while
demon monkeys teleported out of its way. It uncoiled and bared its teeth at
The Programmer.

Coco was in his usual form when detached from Los Pantalones, that of a
two-and-a-half-foot tall bronze-gold metallic bonobo. Esteban watched
helplessly as his metallic friend and Pantalones-mate was swarmed by demon
monkeys.

*Enough of these pleasantries,* The Programmer snarled in his head. *And
enough of the games with your decoys. Tell me what you did with the Hidden
Heart!*

Against his will, pushed by a hand of nectarisitic liquid metal, Esteban
was made to regard the red raptor mannequin and the bronze-gold paper-mache
bust of Isaac from the Love Boat.

"I've... never seen those before," he managed to say. "Though... if you and
yours were so easily duped... I think we *really* need to review our
security budget."

Now the vision of the outside world through his mask was entirely submerged
in bronze-gold static. Abruptly, the nectarisitic charge coursing through
Los Pantalones and his body ceased.

*Wrong answer,* the Programmer said. *I guess I have to take you back to...
wait, what?*

Esteban thought a command, not sure if Los Pantalones could still receive
it. That it could was swiftly confirmed, as a fresh charge shot through the
metal connecting his pants and The Programmer's face.

The Programmer's metal ropes shot back into his head as he staggered back.
Esteban turned to where he had last seen Coco, and saw what had occasioned
The Programmer's surprise.

A fast-thumping, Casio-esque tune rang through the morning air as the
bronze-gold monkey rapidly twirled. His metallic tail and fur retracted
into his body, and a couple seconds later, a large gun and a larger battle
axe emerged from his arms. A bronze-gold suit featuring stylized rococo
designs of no great comprehensibility rose up from his body. Bronze-gold
locks cascaded from his scalp, soon forming a full head of
bouncin'-and-behavin' hair.

The demon monkeys and The Programmer stared at the transformed Coco, and
then looked at Esteban.

"Don't ask me," said Esteban. "Coco's his own lil' dude."

A speaker grill formed on Coco's chest.

<<You bet,>> said Coco, still sounding like a twelve-year-old boy trying to
talk like Robert Goulet. <<So who's ready for a one-way trip to ouchie
town?>>

"Does he always play the theme music?" The Programmer asked.

Rather than give an answer that might sadden everyone present, Esteban
summoned his suit's defensive systems. The controls were sluggish. The gun
turrets emerged from his thighs, but the missile racks stayed in his
calves. Readouts sputtered before his eyes. Whatever The Programmer had
done in his short time of contact, it had done real damage to Los
Pantalones's systems.

He fired at The Programmer. The man spun as nectarisite bullets struck his
chest and legs. They wouldn't penetrate his flesh, Esteban knew. Instead,
they would transmit the shock of their impact, fall to the ground, and then
fly back to rejoin Los Pantalones. It took a specific command to override
the programmed safety defaults to allow the metal to penetrate flesh, and
Esteban didn't want to cross that line. Ever.

Coco, meanwhile, chopped and kicked his way through demon monkeys, batting
away their attacks with precision moves and peppy synthwave music. He fared
less well when several monkeys grabbed him and teleported straight up,
letting him go when they reappeared. Coco quickly stabilized in midair and
spun to attack, only to be struck by a flying, spinning merry-go-round that
knocked him into the bushes.

Esteban sent a command, and bullets sprayed from his thigh-mounted turrets.
Several were intercepted midair by the liquid metal nectarisite tentacles
that shot from The Programmer's eyes. He tried to deploy his missiles once
more, but the system wouldn't respond. Whatever The Programmer had done had
thoroughly hosed his mask-pants interface. A reboot would solve the issue,
he suspected, but that would involve a shutdown that would make him
vulnerable.

Several demon monkeys dropped down on his head. Their claws dug into him as
they tried to rip his mask away. One latched onto his shirt and gained a
firm grip on his chest. Smiling maliciously, the monkey pinched, then
twisted.

A pulsing impact accompanied by a lilting hum cleared the monkeys from his
head. Several more conventionally explosive sounds rocked the ground around
him. Esteban grabbed the remaining demon monkey from his chest and punted.
They struck the swingset at high velocity, ending up tangled in chains and
pinned to the top metal bar.

At first, he thought Coco had provided the freeing barrage, but his
erstwhile companion was only now staggering out of the bushes, helped by a
pair of bulbous-headed Venusian hoboes who'd evidently been sleeping where
the monkey had landed. He looked around for The Programmer, but the robed
villain was looking up at something over his shoulder. Esteban looked as
well.

Two figures hung in the blue sky. One wore a dark grey metallic armored
suit, with smoke rising from its wrist-mounted guns. Its wearer had a
helmet with an obscuring faceplate that had only a long, tinted rectangle
to indicate where the eyes would be. On its chestplate was a symbol: a hand
proffering a flower, a beer, a rather dazed bird, and a small armored
humanoid.

Esteban didn't need the overbusy attempt at branding to recognize Galaxy
Hunter. The intergalactic hero had been to Earth multiple times, though
none of these visits had been recent.

The only problem was that Esteban knew who was under the armor--or at least
who *should* have been under the armor--and knew that person was
well-and-permanently retired.

The other hovering figure drew his eye, as she emerged from Hunter's
shadow. She had ruby-red shoulder-length hair and a cockeyed grin, her face
partially hidden by a black mask with red lining over her forehead and down
to her tanned cheeks. There were red ovals where eyes should have been. Her
nose was average-sized though slightly narrow, her lips pursed and
ruby-red, her chin sharp, though not pointed. Her body was lean and
athletic, skin tanned and sweat-sheened. She wore a sleeveless formfitting
black-and-red top that ended where her belly began, along with matching
shorts and boots.

"All right!" she exclaimed. "Who else is ready for a crash course in Ape
Law up in here?"

Galaxy Hunter turned his head to look at her.

"Hey, down, there," the red-haired woman called, ignoring her companion.
"Are you... you..."

She trailed off as she focused on Esteban.

He watched her, wondering why she was staring so hard. Possibly she
recognized him, though he was sure he'd never met her before. Her companion
had no such issues, as he was looking around the playground.

"He's gone," said Galaxy Hunter.

Belatedly, Esteban remembered The Programmer. He did a quick 360 scan--that
part of his systems worked, at least--but did not see The Programmer or his
hench-monkeys. The demon monkeys, he realized, had teleported him away the
moment they saw their assailants. The papier-mache bust of Isaac from the
Love Boat had been left behind, along with the red raptor mannequin.

"Hey, maaaan!" one of the hoboes yelled. "Ain't you hot in that metal?  You
ain't been superguyin' in Cali long, huh?"

"Yeaah," another voice rumbled. "That super with you has the right idea!"
Esteban glanced in the voice's direction, and saw that the previously
passed-out godziller, the one who had spoken, was now sitting upright, blue
smoke drifted from his nostrils.

"Let's go," Galaxy Hunter said to his companion. He started to jet away,
then stopped when it was clear the flying woman wasn't following. "Psywave!
Come on! We don't have time!"

"Who..." started Esteban.

Bronze-gold erupted in his mind's eye, accompanied by a sound not unlike an
eight-bit rendition of the opening notes of Beethoven's Fifth. With it came
whispers and sensations, which fled before he could grasp their meaning.
The light faded, and she was still there.

She looked at Galaxy Hunter for a moment, the grin having slipped from her
face. Then both took off, upward and northward in the direction of Venice.

He tried to follow, but his boot repulsors wouldn't obey. Belatedly, he
issued the reboot command to Los Pantalones, knowing that by the time his
systems came back up, it would be too late to pursue. Already, the fliers
were specks on the horizon.

<<Esteban,>> said Coco, as he limp-walked to where Esteban and Los
Pantalones were.  <<You know that was...>>

"Yeah," he replied. "I know."

His view of the skyline through his mask faded, replaced by a static
picture of Coco doing a perky 'ok' gesture, and a 'please wait' message
beneath.  He shut his eyes... and smiled.

"She's back."

SHE'S BACK?
ESTEBAN'S BACK?
LEMON'S BACK?
JOHNNY'S BACK?
THE N.I.B.'S BACK?
CENDRA'S BACK?
MIGUEL'S BACK?
CHINA'S BACK?
COCO'S BACK?
THE PROGRAMMER'S BACK?
APE LAW'S BACK?
I'M BACK?
MAN, WHAT?
DON'T ASK, JAKE. IT'S LITTLE KAIJUVILLE.

ANSWERS TO THESE QUESTIONS WILL BE EVADED IN THE NEXT EPISODE! KEEP
WATCHING THE SKIES, AND KEEP READING... SUPERGUY!
--
Copyright (c) 2022 by Gary W. Olson. All Rights Reserved.
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Gary W. Olson / https://www.garywolson.com
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