Back in RPGC, the gathered heroes had begun to disperse. Some returned to the police station, to rendezvous with the gathered mercenaries. Still others returned to RPGC Castle, hoping to prepare the guards for war. And even more simply returned to their homes for the time being, weary from their death and ressurection, and feeling rather disheartened by their chances. Only Sinistral remained with the RPGC Task Force, his eyes locked on a nondescript spot on the cold steel floor.
The Task Force, for their part, were seated around him at the meeting table, their heads hung dismissively. Even kiro, the catgirl that would have been filling the entire bunker with scorch marks and spent shells by this time, seemed to lose what little vigor she had left. It was Mabatsekker who finally broke the mournful silence. “So…what do we do now?”
“We do nothing,” said Sinistral.
“I disagree with that notion,” said Beckons. “I mean, we can-”
Sinistral didn’t even lift his head; were it not for his words, he would have seemed completely dead. “In the last few weeks, RPGC’s infrastructure has been completely destroyed. The mercenaries first take over the town, and then the clones cost us valuable time. The zombie attack only hastened things. We are undermanned, underarmed, and almost allyless. Our agreement with the Norse Pantheon is hanging by a thread, and they WILL betray us by the end of this.”
“What about Weiila?” said GG Crono. “I mean, she’s a goddess!”
“That’s not Weiila,” said Sin. Everyone looked at him in half-shock. “That…thing she’s become is cold-blooded, ruthless, and apparently partially unhinged. And now, she’s the most powerful force in RPGC, now that Loki is missing and Galloway was depowered.”
“Is there…any way to win?” whispered kiro, her voice raspy from silent tears.
“Not without more allies,” said Heaven’s Soldier.
That was when inspiration hit, of all people, Glenton, its arch-nemesis and perpetual buttmonkey. That, or he leaned back too far in smug satisfaction at seeing his enemies morally crushed and fell on his ass. Either way, after he pulled himself back up… “I got it! You guys are heroes, right?”
“Of course,” said Heaven’s Soldier.
“And what do heroes do? They save people’s asses! Very grateful people’s asses, I might add!”
The formation of a plan suddenly struck Sin as well. That, or he had a sudden flashback to the Orakian Crusades, causing him to slam his hand on the table with enough force to nearly fracture his wrist. Still… “That’s it! It’s time to call in some favors!”
The rest of the Task Force finally got into the swing of things, but fortunately without the needless special effects. “Crono, are the archives still working?” shouted Heaven’s Soldier.
“Like a charm!” said GG.
“kiro, get ahold of Martinez! Tell him to call up every dimension he’s ever been to!” kiro let out a small salute before dashing up, a helpless Rio in tow. “Glenton, get ahold of the underworld! Let them know that if they sign up with us, we’ll forgive some of their past offences!” Half out of self-serving survialism, Glenton nodded and rushed off. “Beckons! Get every available soldier you can! Tell them to prepare to march!” Beckons bowed and faded away. “And Mabat, get in touch with the Gods! Tell them it’s time they took some action!” Mabat nodded and slipped off.
Sinistral let out a small smile. “You really think they’re going to all come?”
“Not everyone,” said Heaven’s Soldier. “Some are ungrateful, some don’t remember us, and a few probably don’t even know the danger they’re in. I’m just banking on those that DO being powerful and aware enough to give us an edge.”
“And what about Weiila?”
“She’ll be here. She may be a goddess, but she’s still the person we all knew her to be…”
Mabatsekker was halfway to the dimensional portal when everything suddenly faded to white. Within seconds, he found himself standing in a large Roman pantheon of sorts, staring straight at all manner of gods and mythical beings. The Norse Gods were in attendance, of course, helmed by Freya, but it seemed like damn near every other pantheon, even ones he didn’t recognize, were all seated before him.
After several agonizingly silent minutes, Mabat finally cleared his throat. “Wh-What just happened?”
“We’ve been watching you since the first Naar incident,” said one of the gods. “We knew you were trying to find your way here. Thought we’d spare you the trip.”
“Then…Then you know why I’m here?”
“Of course we know!” said another. “Kai has beseeched our aid for centuries. He will not get a drop of my followers’ blood!”
“Nor mine!”
“I will not lose what few worshippers I have!”
“You have our answer, mortal! Now leave our-”
Even before the words had left the god’s lips, Mabat had an idea. It was wild, absurb, and totally stupid. He knew he was probably going to die, but if he understood his powers properly, and his body could take it, AND the whole universe wasn’t going to die, he might have a chance. “Alright, so you won’t help us now. But what’ll happen down the line?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you think Naar’s gonna be happy stomping out one little threat?” said Mabat. “The bastard’s rushing through one universe after another. The only thing keeping him at bay are the Kai and his TWO true followers. Once he’s wiped them out, what’s he gonna do next? He’ll start on the next universe, and the one after that.”
“That is against our order. The universe was divided fairly when-”
“When everything was born, yeah yeah yeah, we went through this last year. Do you really think Naar cares anymore? The guy’s evil distilled into its purest form. From what I’ve heard, he had the same deal with Kai, backstabbed him, and then simply corrupted what he couldn’t take by force. We’ve seen his handiwork better than any of you. And frankly, I’m sick of you bastards hanging out up here and not doing a fucking thing to help!”
“…Our answer remains unchanged. We can defeat Naar easily.”
“Oh, yeah? Didn’t he kick your ass no more than a few weeks ago? His MORTAL forces crushed your precious, hand-picked disciples. And that wasn’t even his main force; he was REALLY after a several thousand-year-old blonde guy and a saiyan. Imagine what he’ll do when he comes back.”
“This is a mortal-”
“Mortal my blue mage ass! You’re supposed to be the fucking gods, the beings that control everything from the cosmos. So far all I’ve seen you do is bitch and moan about your supposed subjects and why they don’t deserve your help! Here’s a guy from a world NONE of you bastards control! You can’t shut me up without pissing off your own precious control! And if you want to save your asses, then you’ll give us some fucking support!”
Glenton suddenly felt very unsure of himself, standing in the middle of his old hangouts. RPGC’s most run-down of districts, rampant with slum housing, crack houses, and seedy brothels, was once a stomping ground for thieves like himself. Now was different. He was supposed to play the part of hero, giving the same olive branch to the thugs and punks that he had himself rejected hundreds of times over. And even if he did betray them and escape, he could never really return. Something had changed in him, a kind of caring had formed in his dead heart. And it sickened him.
His musings and self-monologing finally ended when the gangs he had called together arrived. He had been as careful as possible, keeping rivals from being too close to each other, while also making sure they realized he could “drop” live grenades in all their pants without a moment’s provocation. And he probably would afterwards, just to blow off some steam. In any case, negotiations weren’t going to be as hard as television made it appear. For all their gruffness and seeming power, these weren’t real professional criminals. They were little more than little violent brats, and would have an easier time pushing little girls around the playground than take on the “big boys” of the Mafia, or Yakuza, or even the Triads.
Mere minutes are receiving the call, Martinez was already buried under astral charts, old memoirs, ancient journels, golden keepsakes, and various other memorabillia of his many, many adventures. He had also managed to finish recording the exploits of the last Task Force just before Val’s murder, meaning he had access to THEIR accomplishments, as well. In any case, it wasn’t going to be easy to get everyone on their side. Of the universes the Task Force had ventured to, only Matriarch Deralin of Iona was willing to send her forces. That was when he realized the truth.
“Nobody believes us,” he sighed. “I…guess I’ll have to stick to places that Naar personally attacked. Maybe THEN I cam get some help.”
“Who are you talking to?”
Wil turned around to see Nelimar, her eyes half closed from a lack of sleep. “Um…nobody. You see, when you become a superhero, you have to externalize everything that ever crosses your head. That way, everyone knows what’s going on without having to actually show it.”
“And…why do you do this?”
“Because we’re very, very lazy.”
Beckons easily managed to drag his allies out of their beds, cursing himself for not getting the best assignment.
Before long, Beckons and Glenton arrived at the RPGCPD, followers in tow. Sinistral and Heaven’s Soldier were already there, as was GG Crono, the latter being currently in the station. “Alright, that’s two down,” said Sin.
Suddenly, Martinez also returned…followed by about several thousand figures from across the multiverse, running the entire gambit of size, shape and species. “It was a pretty productive night, I’d say,” said Martinez.
Finally, Mabatsekker returned…with nothing at all. “Sorry. They weren’t willing to listen.”
“I knew that,” said Sin. “But we have enough to win this thing, I think. Now, everyone is to get ready for battle. Tomorrow…the real war begins.”
THE END OF PART 122
Next time: Nyarlathotep’s Requim
I boggle when I consider how long you’ve been working on this series, Gallo, and if you feel burned out that’s fully understandable. Still, I really hope that you’ll manage to finish it.