Here’s Issue 30. Story B was cut and moved to a later issue. A commentary post will follow either tonight or tomorrow.
Issue 30: Tween Bop
A WEEK LATER, IN FRONT OF THE RPGCITY AUDITORIUM…
Weiila, Zachary, and Allison were walking down the sidewalk, their eyes locked on a map leading to the Pie Shop. The child was running in the lead, incredibly excited about reuniting with the long-thought-lost Task Force. Meanwhile, the two adult women were slowly following, trading knowing glances at each other. “So…are you still a white mage?” said Allison.
“Yes, I am,” said Weiila. “Speaking of which, I heard somebody murdered the elementary school’s librarian. Any idea who that was?”
“None. And just so you know, I have no intention of killing anyone today.” She slowly turned her head towards the angel. “Unless you want me to finish my last contract.”
Weiila was about to enact some Dio-esque vengeance when they were interrupted by the most annoying sound in the world: pre- to early-adolescent girls screaming in unison. Outside of the RPGCity Auditorium, a small convoy of vans were slowly working through a throbbing, howling horde of girls, their all-consuming mass resembling an all-absorbing amoeba more than any sort of normal human crowd. Behind the vans rode a large bus, bearing the many bangs of tiny fists and scraping fingernails beneath its bright blue-and-metallic grey paint job. Across the very center, in large Sans Font letters, was a banner proclaiming the new act in town: “Kimberly Adjective and the Spoons.”
Zachary let out a very audible moan at the sight. “Oh no, not her!”
The two older women simply stared in stunned silence, unable to comprehend this…thing they were witnessing. “Who is this ‘Kimberly Adjective’ person, anyway?” asked Weiila.
“Oh, she’s just some annoying singer, always talking about how much she likes boys and how she’s richer than anyone at school.”
“In other words, yet another factory-produced pop singer,” said Allison. “Well, if you will excuse me, I have a meeting to attend. See you all later.” With that, the mysterious woman vanished down a side alley. Zachary gave her an enthusiastic wave goodbye, while Weiila simply watched in quiet condemnation. It wasn’t long before the kid finally noticed his companion/babysitter’s general mood. “Is there something wrong?”
“We have a history. That’s it. Now come on, we have to get-”
While the previous events had been going on, the massive crowd had managed to congregate fully around the bus, making it impossible to open the doors. Burly security guards were quickly exiting the back of the vans, trying desperately to wedge out enough room for the band itself to get out. It was just then that one of the back vans exploded, sending out waves of debris and searing flames flying in all directions. Although the vehicle was far enough way that nobody was caught in the immediate blast, the raining destruction was still enough to slam into several girls and bodyguards, critically injuring them and scaring off the others.
Weiila and Zachary made a beeline for the injured, the white mage already mentally preparing whatever spells she would need for this emergency, and the young superhero simply trying to figure out exactly what he should be doing. The remaining crowd quickly dispersed, leaving their former friends and acquaintances to die slow, agonizing deaths like any good preteen would. The angel bent down next to an eleven-year-old, her legs and lower torso battered, bleeding and burnt, and quickly started chanting a basic healing spell.
The bus, meanwhile, suddenly pulled to a stop. The doors opened, allowing Kimberly Adjective herself to step out. She was very pretty for a sixteen-year-old, long brown hair tied back, blue contact lenses, typical complexion, and of course, the finest clothes a ten million-a-year contract could buy. Behind her were the other band members, a disheveled group of obvious stoners and apparent milkduds, dressed in the kind of stuff you would find in a thrift store. Oh, and they were all guys. Go figure.
Weilla and Zachary were too busy to care, at any rate. “So, if I just rub my hands together, I could-”
The white mage’s head spun around so quickly, Zach could swear he heard it crack. “No. Static defibrillators will not work. You will only burn them.” The kid superhero simply hung his head in defeat. “Just…try to keep everyone calm. And remind me to punch that blue mage when we see him.”
“Um…excuse me.”
Weilla looked away from the recovering girl to meet Kimberly’s eyes. The pop singer was clearly horrified at the sight before her; her bandmates were seemingly less shaken. “I-Is there anything I can do to help?”
To say Weiila wasn’t expecting this is an understatement. “Well…I guess you’re welcome to. Just…make sure everyone’s wounds are elevated. If you have any first aid kits in the bus, get them. The ambulances should be here in a few minutes.”
Kimberly nodded enthusiastically. “Sure!” The band members ran back to grab the supplies, while Kimberly herself made her way to an eight-year-old girl, her body covered in third-degree burns. Just as Weiila was making her way to the next injury, she could make out some…song coming from the pop star’s direction, a cooing and strangely soothing melody. It certainly didn’t sound like the usual catalog for this kind of thing, that was for sure.
Before long, the ambulances finally arrived. Weiila gave Kimberly and the Spoons a quick “thank you” before grabbing Zachary and continuing on their way. The singer simply smiled and waved, before heading back into the bus. As they were leaving, however, Weiila caught a glimpse of the third-degree burn girl.
She was completely uninjured.
A HOUR LATER, IN DEEP 14…
The reserves looked down at their new bracelets. They were simply affairs, red in shape and elastic. Were it not for the runes that covered them, they could be passed as simply fashion accessories. The rest of the Task Force (and Ivonne) were also there, as was Doctor Forrester and TV’s Frank. Only Bahamut Xero and Gemini were not present and accounted for.
Pierson finished snapping the device onto Zachary’s wrist, and joined GG Crono in leaning on the control panel. Ivonne, meanwhile, was sitting in her cozy office chair, keeping an eye on the still slightly confused reservists. Mabatsekker and demigod were on the other end of the main chamber, finishing up a small box.
“So…this ‘Illuminati’ is hunting us down?” said Weiila. “All because you turned them down?”
“Not quite,” said Pierson. “Galloway never actually submitted the Task Force Reserves to the UN. They know you’re all registered, but outside of being in the same city, we’re not actually connected.”
GG Crono motioned towards the Waypoint. “We’ve already got a teleportation network spread across all of RPGC. The bracelets will let us talk to each other, if trouble arises. We might also ask for your help on missions. You know, usual stuff.”
“And…where’s Xero and Gemini?” asked Omega.
Mabatsekker raised his hand in response. “We’ve already talked to Xero. He can’t really come into RPGCity without drawing a crowd, so demigod and I are mailing him his bracelet.”
“As for Gemini, we cannot locate him at this time,” said demigod. “We are travelling to Iona tomorrow to continue our search.”
“And that is all for today’s little meeting,” said Pierson. “Ivonne will call you if anything comes up.”
ABOUT THIRTY MINUTES LATER, AFTER EVERYONE LEFT…
Weiila and Esker stepped out of the building, marking the last of the reservists to leave. The landlords quickly returned upstairs, to finish their respective affairs in the actual restaurant. This left only the main heroes in Deep 14, sitting around the meeting table.
“So, somebody wants to kill off another vapid pop star?” said GG Crono.
“Not much we can do about this,” said demigod. “There is no way we can just start investigating a stage that large, without attracting too much attention.”
It was at that exact moment that Ivonne started motioning towards one of the monitor screens. The image was that of a teenage Japanese girl, holding up a large cardboard sign reading “TASK FORCE.” There was no sign of any Illuminati figures, nor was there anything outwardly suspicious about the girl herself. Of course, there was the fact that she was basically waving a sign in front of a security camera, an incredibly strange means of getting their attention.
MEANWHILE, ON THE ROOF OF THE RPGCPD STATION…
Heaven’s Soldier, Pokefreak and Fou-lu stared at the skylight in front of them. “So…we ordered a Task Force Signal…with no actual design on it?” said Heaven’s Soldier.
“Afraid so,” said Fou-lu. “So…who’s paying for donuts this time?”
AND NOW, BACK TO THE ACTUAL SHOW…
The Task Force simply…stared at the screen. “So…how are we seeing this, again?” asked GG Crono.
Ivonne quickly returned to her “I’m smarter than you” grin, the same one that made everyone in the room want to brain her with a sledgehammer EVERY TIME she did it. “Well, while you were busy crying about not being able to watch RPGCity, I decided to look over the RPGCity network. Turns out someone installed a bunch of cameras across the whole region years ago. I simply had to hack into the security network, bypass a few lockouts, and hook us into the live feed.”
The entire Task Force simply looked at each other. “When…did you get good with computers?” asked Mabat.
“Com…pu…ters? Oh, you mean the Magic Boxes!” The traditional face fault followed. “Yeah, we found all KINDS dumped in the forest years ago! This one’s a little stranger, but I could figure it out!”
“But that’s not the problem!” shouted GG Crono. “Why is she waving a sign in front of the camera?”
Pierson quickly went back into leader mode. “It’s obviously a trap…but at the same time, if she IS with the Illuminati, we might be able to shake some information out of her…” He turned to Ivonne. “Where is she, exactly?”
Ivonne punched up a large map of RPGCity. A blue dot was flashing on an apartment complex in the slums. “She’s on the roof of that building. I’ve already looked through the surrounding areas, and there’s nobody else there.”
“We’ll teleport into the sewer network, under the building. If we appear in front of her, she might be able to start deciphering our signal.”
A few key commands later, and the waypoint’s runes began to glow. The Task Forcer’s wristbands began to glow in unison, as well. A blinding white light swept across all of Deep 14, until the underground cavern looked like a solar flare. When the whiteness faded into a layer of mist, the Task Force was nowhere to be seen.
Doctor Forrester emerged from behind the elevator. “Just so you know, painting your evil lair like a light bulb is not a good way to stay hidden.”
AT THAT SAME INSTANT, IN THE SEWERS…
The landing turned out to be far less impressive than the take-off. The Task Force simply warped backed into existence. No blinding lights, no summoning sickness, no fanfare whatsoever. Besides a little dizziness, the entire experience was a fast, surprisingly pleasant trip. Until they fell into two feet of raw sewage. That part was decidedly less enjoyable.
(One HEROIC hosedown and a lot of boring climbing later…)
The last of the Task Forcers finally pulled themselves up from the fire escape, breathing heavily with every step they took. Pierson, in particular, was heavily covered in garbage, blood, and various unmentionable substances; his heavy panting only increased the threat of some of it going into his mouth. “Alright, we made it. Now let us never speak of it again.”
Sure enough, the Japanese girl was still there, sitting on the edge of the roof. Her sign was now leaning against the nearby doorway, along with a lavishly decorated purple school backpack. The girl turned around at their presence, revealing her to be a teenager, about sixteen years at the most. Her black hair was hanging loosely at around waist level. Her clothes, however, distracted from the attempted insanely creepy fanservice; they consisted of a garishly ugly hoodie with Kimberly Adjective’s face slapped all over, as well as a pair of skin-tight jeans adorned with various stickers and patches declaring her love for the latest disposable pop culture obsession.
And then there was her eyes. They were a fiery blood red, quite possibly the most unnatural color the team had seen so far.
Everyone simply stared at each other for a few moments, trying to rationalize exactly what they were seeing. Then the girl ran forward, squealing like either a mortally wounded guinea pig or a small baby being shoved through a de-boning machine. She finally stopped just short of trampling Pierson, eyes half-closed in the most adorable way possible. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god! You’re, like, the RPGC TASK FORCE!”
The heroes took a collective step back. Even demigod was starting to feel very uneasy about her…eagerness. “Y…Yes, we are,” said Pierson. He quickly wiped the goop out of his head; the strange liquid slammed to the ground, congealed into a small blob-like thing, and slithered away. “Now, how can we help you?”
The girl reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a small card. It was a pretty simple thing, pure white-on-white background with black lettering. It read:
Noriko Yamaguchi
Kimberly Adjective Fan Club President
Chapter 29
Mabatsekker suddenly broke into a cold sweat, muttering and cursing under his breath. GG Crono and demigod simply hugged each other for comfort. “It…It’s a fangirl!”
Noriko simply ignored their pure, unadulterated horror. “Well, it’s, like, awesome to meet real super heroes like you guys!” She reached into the backpack and pulled out a bunch of crumpled pieces of paper. “Anyway, the other girls were, like, digging through Kimberly’s garbage a few days ago, and-”
“You…dig through her GARBAGE?!” shouted GG Crono.
Noriko shook her head sadly in response. “Oh, of course I don’t. The others do it!” Back to diabetes-inducing cheerfulness. “Like I was saying, they were digging through the trash, and we found these things!”
Pierson opened one of the balled-up documents. It was a letter, describing all sorts of disgusting, disturbing, outright illegal actions the writer intended to perform upon Kimberly’s private areas. The others, in turn, went from vomit-inducing to outright homicidal. “So, some pedophiliac stalker has an obsession with Miss Adjective, and may have set that bomb off to kill her?”
“Well…yeah.”
“And…how can we help?”
She reached back into the backpack, and pulled out four security badges. “The guys in the van were apparently part of the security. Just put these on, and you can keep an eye on her!”
The Task Force looked at each other, silently agreeing to their shared disdain for what this job would entail. Unfortunately, that little thing called “obligation” quickly drove out those sentiments; like it or not, they couldn’t let anyone get killed because of personal disdain for their genre of entertainment. Besides, Noriko seemed to be on the up-and-up; if she was an Illuminatus, she had to be the dumbest person working for the conspiracy.
ONE HOUR LATER, AT THE RPGCITY AUDITORIUM…
Pierson, Mabatsekker and GG Crono walked through the backstage doorways, clad in neon yellow jackets and jeans. The blue mage and amnesiac also had a few pieces of fuzz attached, as well as some fake contacts, to help with the disguise. Demigod took the pass, but because of certain…physical differences, he was relegated to keeping a stealthy watch from the outside. Fortunately, the rampaging hordes of preteens, coupled with their Prozac-laden parents, were too busy trying to work their way into the building itself that they paid no heed to the “thing that should not be” hanging out on the roof.
Kimberly herself was still in her dressing room, preening over the latest changes in the night’s performance. Outside the dressing room door was a small army of goons, all very musculed-up and ready for anything the raging perverts could throw at them. Meanwhile, a vast array of security cameras kept watch over everything on the floor, as well as provided excellent material for the latest rounds of highly illegal Internet porn.
Pierson quickly made himself useful, climbing up a side ladder to the rafters above the stage. After a few minutes of searching, he finally found the sweet spot; a small shadowy corner, where he could easily make out the events going on onstage and in the audience without being spotted. After a quick jaunt to remember the exact placement, he scrambled back down, all without alerting the real security guards or the waiting audience.
Mabatsekker and GG Crono, meanwhile, started patrols around the various backstage areas of the auditorium. The blue mage quickly made note of the numerous storage closets, the manager’s office, and the green room, while the guy that doesn’t really do anything jotted down all of the possible entry points. Having finished their homework, the team quickly met back up…just as Kimberly was exiting her dressing room, talking on a cell phone.
“-don’t care what…Dad, this is…! Look, it was just an editing trick, we do it all the time here! Da…Da…Listen, I’m hanging up now! I- I’M HANGING UP NOW! WE’LL TALK LATER!” She slammed the “End Call” button down so hard the phone’s keypad started to crack. “Idiot.”
Her tantrum was brought to a close when a scrawny stage manager came running in, holding a stuffed clipboard. “Come on, folks! Five minutes to show time!”
The small hallway was suddenly filled with a tidal wave of band members, security details, technicians, janitors, stalkers, and roadies. Pierson quickly melted into the crowd, riding it to just the right spot to climb onto his hidey-hole. Mabatsekker took up a patrol around the halls, while GG Crono stepped outside to start his own search for their vaguely-defined targets.
MEANWHILE, ON THE STAGE…
The stage lights gradually dimmed out of existence, only to be followed by a long stream of purple mist and the rumbling of fog machines. Beneath the cover of darkness, Kimberly slinked her way into a large metal cage, which was then raised into position via a cable and pulleys. The other band members, meanwhile, took up their respective positions, their forms shrouded in a valley of hopefully non-toxic smoke.
The stage lights kicks back on, revealing the entire ensemble. The cage slowly lowered to the ground, all the while surrounded by the high beams and rolling fog. The cranking of the machines was muffled out by the ever-increasing roars of the crowds. The music climbed in volume, until it was practically an invisible avalanche of agonizing noise. Fortunately, Pierson had remembered to bring earplugs. Didn’t do a damn thing about the vibrations, though.
And then she started singing.
MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE THE AUDITORIUM…
“This is pointless.”
GG Crono continud to wander in circles around the building, checking every nook and cranny for the supposed stalkers. So far, all he found was a stray cat, a few birds, some small kids, Jimmy Hoffa’s body, an altar to Slaanesh, and the entire Denver Broncos 1996 lineup. All of which was pretty much standard for this neck of RPGCity, in any case.
It was during his third pass that he finally saw something scuffling in the bushes. Finally seizing the chance for action, GG slowly crept up to the brush, slowly drawing his sword as he did so. When he was but a few feet from the bush, he leaped forward, sword raised, foot extended. His heel came into contact with the onlooker’s face, sending him tumbling to the ground. Before he could even start to recover, Crono had already kicked him onto his back, grabbed him by the head, sat himself on his chest, and had lowered his blade to neck level. “Hello.”
The man was about forty or so, with a receding hairline, a few scruffs for a beard, a red flannel shirt, and outdoorsman pants. On hand was a camera, as well as several unspeakably disgusting photos of himself and…let’s just stop the description there, shall we? Needless to say, Mr. Peeping Tom was wetting himself with fear. Fortunately for GG Crono, said actions were more metaphorical than anything else. “Wh…What do you want?”
“Are you the one that set that bomb?”
The man simply clenched his teeth, making the best villain face he could in his position. “Yes, YES! That little skank was ignoring me, denying my true love! I had to have her, like I had all those others! So I blew up that van! I killed those kids, so she could see how much I loved her! And thanks to you, she will never know!”
GG Crono’s eyes simply widened. He started to look to and fro, as the man continued to ramble. “Do my words scare you, superhero? Yes, I’ve…”
“Shut. Up.”
The pedophile was about to continue…until GG Crono grabbed the photos. “These are photoshops. Not very good ones, either.” Cue renewed sweating from said captive. “What’s REALLY going on here?”
“I just TOLD YOU! I’m here to claim the object of my obsession!”
“Nobody walks around with a pretty little speech in their head, especially if they don’t intend to get caught.” Crono leaned in close, until he could feel the man’s terrified breath. “Now, tell me everything.”
His one chance at badassery quickly ended. The supposed pervert suddenly started convulsing wildly, his eyes dilating, his mouth quickly starting to froth over. GG started to radio for help, but it was already too late; within the space of five seconds, the man was dead. It was far too quick for a cyanide pill, and there was nothing he could have jabbed himself with…
MEANWHILE, ABOVE THE STAGE…
Pierson continued to listen to the music beneath him, to exactly what Kimberly Adjective was saying. Sure enough, the lyrics were absolute garbage, often amounting to little more than the traditional drizzle drummed out of the pop music machine every few minutes. It wasn’t her voice, either. She was no Wilfredo Martinez, to be sure, but her vocal ability was still lacking in at least five or six key areas. The performance wasn’t too terrible, with plenty of flashing lights and sound effects for those with two-second attention spans.
No, the real alarming thing was something behind her voice. It was a small murmur, to be sure, but there was some kind of power behind every word that left her lips. It felt like…magic.
“Look, it was just an editing trick, we do it all the time here!”
Pierson thought back to something Weiila had mentioned, about how a girl Kimberly was singing to was suddenly healed. Given that news crews and paparazzi were no doubt following the scene, it was possible some kind of magical use would have been filmed. But then, if it was white magic, Weiila would have picked up on it almost immediately. If anything, mages these days were far less subtle.
Finally realizing he had been ignoring his actual objective the whole time, Pierson quickly returned to his previous watch. Answers could wait until after the concert.
AFTER THE CONCERT…
The last of the lights dimmed on stage, replaced by the return of the more traditional lighting above. The fans cheered and roared outside, anxious to get an autograph or at least five seconds with their idol. Their captive parents, eager to see all this madness come to an end, quickly scurried off after them. The roadies quickly dismantled and packed away all the show equipment, while the other band members made their way backstage.
Meanwhile, the Task Force reassembled in the auditorium, once again dressed in their standard costumes. Even demigod was there, glad to finally be off that roof and back in the action. “So wait, you mean this whole thing was a set-up?” asked Mabat.
GG Crono nodded. “That’s what it looks like. We need to get out of here, before-”
“It’s not us they want.” Everyone turned to an anxious Pierson. “Their real target is Kimberly Adjective.”
There was a moment of silence, followed by a few muffled giggles. “Come on, Pierce!” said Crono. “What would they want with a vapid little pop star?!”
“She’s a mage.” The joyous rapture of laughing quickly died down. “I don’t know what kind, exactly, but I can feel some kind of power behind her words. Whatever her style is, it seems to be activated by singing.”
Their little conversation stopped cold when Kimberly reentered the auditorium, surrounded by a posse of neon-clad security guards. The procession stopped when they got close to the Task Force, the entire small gathering looking absolutely dumbfounded at the ridiculous sight before them. Finally, one of the guards broke the silence. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but this is not a costume party. Please leave.”
The heroes looked at each other, trying to figure out the perfect thing to respond to that. Finally, Pierson stepped forward. “My name is Pierson. I’m with the-”
Realization finally slapped Kimberly across the face like a cold fish. “Ohhhh, you’re those local superheroes. RPGC Task Force, was it?”
“Um…yes.”
“That’s so awesome! Real superheroes actually going to one of my concerts! Oh man, I’ve gotta tell everyone about this one!”
“That…will not be necessary,” said another guard. “Come on, Ms. Adjective. Our ride is waiting outside.” The guard grabbed Kimberly by the shoulders, an act that brought severe discomfort and confusion to her face, and started to lead her off towards the stage. “The van is waiting outside.”
“I…thought she came in on a bus,” said GG Crono.
“And wouldn’t she still have stuff to clean up back here?” asked Mabat.
“And did you not already disable all of the vehicles earlier?” asked demigod. The Task Force gave him a confused look. “…You left me on a freezing roof for six hours. I noticed things.”
The guards suddenly hurried their pace. “Ms. Adjective!” shouted Pierson. “Are these your normal guys, or were they hired for this show?”
His response was immediate. Kimberly finally managed to wiggle out of the guard’s grip, push her way through the ones in the back, and get enough distance to safely turn around and reach for her pockets. One of the guards came sauntering back up to her…only to be greeted by a can of mace. The stinging liquid sent the imposter falling backwards…right into Mabatsekker’s knee. The other guards, seeing their act was up, quickly threw off their jackets, revealing heavy armor padding and various knives, cattle prods, and firearms.
The heroes formed a line in front of Kimberly. The fake guards marched forward in a typical stormtrooper fashion…only to suddenly fall over, convulsing and foaming at the mouths. Sure enough, they died the exact same way as the guy outside. At the same time, several dozen more figures, this time dressed in full commando uniforms and armed with assault rifles, crashed into the auditorium, weapons locked on the Task Force. At the same time, the front doors opened, revealing even more soldiers…and Noriko, now dressed in the same kind of uniform they saw on Damascus. The only different was a small Japanese flag pin on her lapel. In her hands was a small remote.
“Well, this has been entertaining. Gentlemen, I thank you for your effort, but I think it’s time we all took a little trip.”
Kimberly started walking backwards, running right into the Task Force. “Wait…you were part of that fan club!”
“Please, don’t remind me of that. That rabble of screaming, manically obsessed brats almost drove me to abandon the whole operation. Kids these days…”
GG Crono was ready to say something like, “So says the brattiest of them all,” but decided that it was not only lame, but that he shouldn’t insult the woman leading a small army. Pierson, instead, continued the conversation. “What do you want with Kimberly?”
“You felt it, didn’t you?” laughed Noriko. “I knew you would. That strange feeling whenever she sings, like some kind of power is running through the background, and you can’t tell exactly what it is. She’s a bard.”
An uneasy silence quickly followed. Kimberly slowly sat in one of the chairs, eyes downcast. “It’s true,” she muttered. “I am a witch. Dad made me promise never to use my magic for anything. But…whenever I sing, I just can’t help it.”
“A bard can do just about anything,” continued Noriko. “They don’t have the same genetic limitations of other mages, and then some. A bard’s power is all about feeling; as long as they can focus on the right emotions, they can do anything.”
“And that’s why you did all this?” shouted Mabatsekker. “Why you blew up that van? Why you killed your own minions?!”
“Well, there was YOU, of course,” said Noriko. “Damascus wanted me to make sure you guys were brought back in. Can’t have you guys running around, blabbing our secret.” The soldiers raised and readied their rifles. “Now let’s finish this.” The heroes looked for some way to escape, but found none.
Kimberly’s face seethed with rage, at both herself and her traitorous “fan.” Was what she saying true? Could she have been…influencing everyone without realizing it? And if that was the case, did she even deserve this?
“You have three seconds to surrender, Task Force. One…”
Kimberly knew what she had to try.
“Two…”
The pop singer/bard stood up and inhaled a great amount of oxygen.
“Thr-”
“Hold it!” shouted Kim. Or, to be more exact, sang Kim. Sure enough, EVERYONE simply stooped. Their faces went blank, their eyes almost rolling into their sockets. Only demigod remained unaffected; fortunately, he realized what was going on very quickly, and decided to see how things played out first.
Kimberly continued to speak in song, not even bothering to rhyme or anything like that. What she was saying came from the heart; that is, a heart that had so far today been involved in a bombing, was nearly kidnapped, and now seemed to have all her accomplishments torn to shreds in front of her. “You soldiers will leave at once! You will never come for me again! And you, fangirl, will NEVER look for me. You will leave me in peace!”
Noriko very, very slowly reached for her radio. “Men. Head. For. The. Extraction. Point. Report. To. Station. 17. For. Debriefing.” With that, every single (living) Illuminati in the room simply walked out. After a few seconds of silence, the Task Force quickly dropped out of their trance, completely flabbergasted as to what the hell just happened. Kimberly, however, realized what this all meant.
The Japanese girl was right. She was a fraud.
A FEW HOURS LATER…
The Task Force was back in Deep 14, heads hung sadly. Doctor Forrester was seated with them, reading up on how to blow up New Jersey and make a profit doing so. Ivonne, meanwhile, was still at her post, chowing down on pretzels. “So…what happened after the Illuminati left?”
“Kimberly just…went back on the bus and left,” said Pierson. “She wouldn’t even let us talk to her.”
“I don’t know how she’s gonna last after this,” said GG Crono. “I mean, she just had her hopes and dreams smashed in front of her. God knows what’ll happen now.”
“Oh, come on!” said Doctor Forrester. “Is that what this is all about?” The Task Force stared menacingly at the mad scientist/landlord. “Look, when I was in high school, I got kicked around by just about everyone in there. Then I came up with a giant death robot, built it in my mom’s garage, and started to rampage through the town. Do you know what happened?”
“You got arrested, your robot was destroyed, and you became the shell of a man before us today?” said Pierson.
“Well…of course. But the point is, my rampaging robot was destroyed, school got worse, and I spent five weeks locked in the cellar, forced to hunt rats for subsidence. But you know what? After a while, I got over it, picked myself up, and got a low-paying intern job at Gizmonic Institute. And here we are today.”
“You mean, after your world domination plans went up in smoke and you were forced to start a pie shop in another universe?”
“…Shut up.”
MEANWHILE, IN GENERAL DAMASCUS’ OFFICE…
Damascus sat at his desk, fingers drumming on his armrests. Noriko sat at the other end, cigarette in hand. “So…the operation failed.”
“Miserably.” She took a large puff. “I didn’t expect her gift to be quite that powerful. Right now, I would recommend we shift focus away from her and back to the Task Force.”
“There will be other opportunities,” continued Damascus. “But for now, you should return home. We will call you when we need you next.” Noriko nodded slightly, stood back up, grabbed her smokes, and walked out of the office. Damascus simply watched her leave, already planning out their next move.
THE END OF ISSUE 30
