Elsewhere...
“Mr. President, there’s a call coming in for you,” the blonde secretary said wistfully.
“I specifically said that I wasn’t taking calls from anyone while I’m planning,” President Christian said to his secretary, lighting up one of his favorite cigars. “This is critical to the Montreal campaign and crucial to our victory. Tell them they can wait, I’m not talking to anyone right now, not even the damned Ruskies.”
“It’s a campaign contributor.”
“Well don’t keep them waiting too long, woman, give me the phone,” Christian said, taking the phone from the secretary. “Yes, what is it?”
“Mr. President?” came a female voice at the other end. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Not at all, Ms. Kimura,” the President said cheerfully. “I always have time for valued American citizens. What can I do for you?”
“Please call me Rin, Mr. President,” the woman on the other line said sweetly. “I assume you heard of the unidentified object that crashed down in New York?”
“Yes, I was briefed on Object X. If I recall correctly, it was a space rock that shattered on impact or something like that.”
“With all due respect, Mr. President, the Kimuratech satellites paint a different picture. I have reason to believe that Object X is some sort of extraterrestrial object.”
“You mean like a space alien?” Christian said with a hint of sarcasm. “Has Mars finally decided to attack?”
“Mr. President, this is serious. The residents of the home Object X landed near haven’t been located since the impact, and the possible involvement of an extraterrestrial hasn't been ruled out.”
“So a Martian landed and abducted a few people who haven’t been answering their phone calls. What do you suggest I do about it?” the president asked, snuffing out his cigar.
“I’ve set up a…contingency plan in the event of hostile first contact,” Rin Kimura said carefully. “If we could get the support of the US government…”
“We ARE in the middle of a war, Ms. Rin. I can’t exactly divert war resources to chasing UFOs.”
“Montreal won’t matter if we can’t defend ourselves from an interplanetary invasion.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not something I’m willing to bet on.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, which Christian used to light a fresh cigar.
“Very well, thank you for listening,” Rin said overly sweetly. “I just hope you’re making the right choice.”
“Any choice that makes Montreal the 51st state is good with me,” Christian said with a laugh. “Good day Ms. Kimura.” He hung up the phone and returned to the map he was looking at before.
Back in Kimura tower, Rin Kimura slowly replaced the receiver. She spent a good five minutes sitting quietly behind her desk, contemplating. The door to her office opened and her assistant Zimmerman strolled in with a fresh cup of coffee and inquired about the conversation with the president. She responded with a howl of rage and by flinging a paperweight through the hundred-story window.
"Damn the American president and his Quebecois war!" Rin Kimura spat out. "We face the threat of extraterrestrial life and he's too busy with his neo-fascist masturbatory fantasy!"
"If you'll allow me to play devil's advocate, ma'am," Zimmerman said with some hesitation, "It's not like you had a mountain of evidence to hand to him, and even so, it would be incredibly unlikely to convince him to change his mind."
"Unpleasant, but correct," Rin said sadly. "The man's a human freight train. Once he has a goal in mind, it takes a mountain to persuade him to change course. I'll say that much for him."
"I think the real concern is whether we can move forward without the backing of the US Government," Zimmerman commented.
"We don't really have a choice, do we?" Rin said plaintively. "Official American assistance is desirable, but not necessary. If we need to get our resources from...unusual sources, it will be done."
"What more do we need? Kimuratech provides the money and material, our existing political connections give us a free hand in the states, and Snowden got us the files on that extraterrestrial combat unit the UN shelved back in '94. What else is there, besides...?"
Rin smiled as the realization dawned on her assistant.
"You aren't seriously thinking about activating Tengu, are you?" Zimmerman said incredulously.
"Thinking about it?" Rin said warmly as she reached for the phone again. "Perish the thought. I already activated it when Object X was discovered five hours ago."
Zimmerman looked a bit shell shocked at the news.
“When you’re done standing around, kindly get in contact with the Pentagon and send a message to General Nantz. Make sure he knows to drum up a few good officers.”
Zimmerman turned on his heel to carry out the order.
“And get me a new paperweight,” Rin said, eying the hole in the window as the phone rang. “Ah, Lieutenant Germaine! It’s Rim Kimura of Kimuratech. Could I have a word with your daughter?”
-------------------------------------------------
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“I’m one hundred percent serious, man. They put a tank down there when it broke through last time. Not one of the prissy Eastern Europe ones either, it’s a full-fledged Abrams.”
“Real American steel.” the security guard told his disbelieving friend. “I saw them drive it through those doors when I was here late two weeks ago.”
“They can’t fit a tank through those doors,” the unconvinced guard said, tapping the huge steel doors with the butt of his rifle. “Besides, if they had tanks down there, why the hell would they need us to stand guard over it?”
The senior guard stifled a laugh. “Trust me kid, that thing’s ornery, but it hasn’t gotten through those doors yet.”
“What happens if it does?”
“Try not to crap yourself.”
All three of the guards gave a nervous laugh, cut short by a noise near the front of the building. “Damned automatic locks,” the senior guard muttered. “The support probably snapped off again. I’ll take care of it.” He shuffled off around the corner to the front door to do just that.
“Alright, so explain this to me,” the disbelieving guard asked as the senior went to check the locks. “If this thing needs a tank to keep it contained, why are we still keeping it?”
“Beats me. Either the eggheads think they can learn something from it or Jackal Industries can’t afford to kill it. I really hope it’s the first one, what about you Murphy?”
The guard’s smile faltered when no response came.
“Murphy? You alright over there?”
The two guards exchanged nervous glances. Raising their rifles, they stepped around the corner as one. Their friend Murphy was nowhere to be seen.
“He probably had to stick his head in the gearbox to fix the door,” the guard said with lilting confidence.
“Uh, Gary,” the other guard asked. “How many of us were standing guard again?”
“About eight or so, why?”
“Well…I think we’re short a few. I can’t see the others on the walkway overhead.”
Gary the guard swallowed nervously. “I’m sure they’re just out of sight. If you’re so nervous you can go up and check.”
The two of them reached the front door at this point. The guard gave a cursory glance, but Murphy was nowhere to be seen.
“There’s another control box for this thing, right?”
No response. Gary turned around to chew his companion, only to stare directly into the face of a skeletal figure in black. He cried out in terror and raised his gun, but he felt the air sucked out of his lungs as the two of them were engulfed in black smoke. When his eyes began working again, he was hanging upside down next to the walkway. He looked up to see the figure clutching his ankle in its vice-like grip.
“Wh-what are you?”
“Is the mutant here?” the specter demanded. It had a cold, harsh voice that sent a chill down the poor guard’s spine.
“Y-yeah, why?”
“Not your problem anymore.”
The figure released its grip, and the guard screamed. His fall was cut short by the unseen rope a foot from the ground, but he had already fainted at that point. With a flash of steel, the rope was cut and the guard collapsed in a heap on the ground. The figure turned on the spot and vanished in a cloud of black smoke, reappearing at the front of the large steel door.
“Nice parlor trick,
mon amie,”
The figure spun around to see a figure perched on a nearby computer bank. Her features were hidden behind a mask with black reflective goggles, and she wore some sort of jumpsuit with copious amounts of ammunition hanging off of bandoliers. She held two pistols in both hands, which were resting in her lap casually.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Someone who’s after the same thing you are, Captain Gravelly,” the woman said in a slight French accent. “For the sake of brevity you can call me Rose, though.”
“Rose?” the figure repeated.
“Cardinal Rose,” the woman said cheerily. She leapt down gracefully and made a few flips before standing upright in front of the smoky figure, depositing one of her pistols in a holster and extending her hand. “And you are…?”
The figure did not take her hand. “Rigor Mortis.”
“Ooh, a big and scary name for a big and scary person. I like it,” she said before turning to you. “That’s when a body stiffens up after you’re dead. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Who are you talking to?” Rigor Mortis asked.
“No one in particular,” Rose said in a sing-song tone. “Now, you’re trying to get through the door, right?”
“I was actually going to teleport through,” Rigor Mortis said cautiously.
“Don’t bother, I have a friend tunneling in from the other side. He’ll take care of Jackal’s teleporter accident and we just have to open the door.”
“Teleporter accident?”
“Yep. Have you ever seen The Fly?”
A low rumble came from the opposite end of the room. Rigor Mortis immediately warped to the walkway, just in time to see a service elevator emerge from the ground. The three guards looked vaguely surprised at the lack of security, but following three soft *phunts*, all three jerked violently and collapsed. Rigor Mortis looked back to Cardinal Rose, with her gun pointed directly behind her, still looking over the great steel door.
“Impressive shot,” Rigor Mortis admitted, vanishing in a smoke cloud and reappearing next to the girl. “Even if you're a bit of a show-off.”
“I never miss,” Rose said simply. “Now then, we wait for the Russian dude to get the-“
She was cut off by a loud bang somewhere nearby.
“Are you sure your friend can handle whatever is in there?” Rigor asked.
“Of course he can! Besides, if the thing in there was out of control, there would be an alarm blaring right now.”
Both of them winced as an alarm klaxon sounded. There was another loud bang, much closer to the steel door this time.
“This may be harder than you thought,” Rigor Mortis commented slyly.
“Well…that’s what he said!” the undisputed master of witty comebacks shot back. Another loud bang, and the steel door started to buckle. The two of them leapt out of the way just as the large metal object was blown off its hinges and launched across the factory floor. As the two of them caught their breath, a large robotic creature began prying itself from the distorted metal that was once a door.
“Is that what they were keeping here?” Rigor Mortis said. “I expected something more dangerous.”
“Actually, that’s my friend,” Cardinal Rose chimed in before pointing through the doorway. “THAT is what they were keeping here.”
Thunderous footsteps sounded throughout the factory as Jackal Industries’ biggest secret entered the room, clutching a battered metal beam the size of a tree trunk. Standing almost ten feet tall and covered in bulging muscles, it looked vaguely human, but had gray-white skin and fins adorning its arms and the back of its neck, almost like some sort of bizarre shark creature. It turned to look at Rigor Mortis, and gave a smile full of sharp white teeth.
“Mmmm...” it grunted. “Meat!”
There was a series of soft sharp sounds, and the shark-man’s chest was peppered with small darts. Growling in irritation, it turned to Rose, who stood there with both guns out, shaking slightly. “So that’s what the Worf Effect feels like,” she said offhand.
The shark creature charged, but the robot had pried itself from the door and charged back. The two of them collided like a pair of freight trains, rattling the entire building. The machine threw a punch, but it was blocked, the shark-man directing the arm upward before a jet of flame shot from the wrist.
“Any suggestions, Mr. Scary?” Rose called out, loading fresh clips into her pistols as the shark-man and the flame-shooting robot engaged in a fist-fight. “Besides the fact that the last sentence was freaking awesome, of course.”
“One idea,” Rigor Mortis said. “Lead him to the right, and leave the rest to me.” With that, Rigor vanished in a cloud of smoke, leaving Rose coughing. Meanwhile, the robot had given up trying to out-muscle the shark-man and broke off with a timely kick to the shark-man’s two best friends.
“I’m gonna rip your arms off, metalhead!” the shark-man shouted.
“Come and try,
cyka!” the robot exclaimed in a tinny, projected voice. It fired a rocket off for good measure, which the shark-man grabbed out of midair and crushed in his large hand harmlessly. “On second thought, DON’T come and try,
cyka.”
“Hey, ugly!” Rose shouted, shaking her rear in the shark-man’s direction. “Come have a bite of this!”
Licking his lips, the shark man gave chase, Rose taking ineffective potshots at the thing as she ran full=speed in the other direction. The shark-man only just noticed when a cloud of smoke appeared before his eyes and a black-clad figure emerged from it. He barely had time to speak before Rigor Mortis slammed into the end of his shark-like face. Rigor landed roughly, watching the mutant shark rub his nose in pain.
“That can’t be your entire plan,” Rose gasped painfully.
“Look up,” Rigor Mortis informed her. The French gunman complied, and a broad smile stretched across her face, hidden under her mask.
“Is that all you morons can do?” the shark-man roared, twitching and foaming at the mouth. Rose immediately unloaded her pistol four times into the air. The shark-man blinked once, then gave a sinister grin.
“You missed!”
CLANG
The metal walkway that had been held up by the support beams Rigor Mortis weakened enough for Cardinal Rose to shoot through came crashing down upon the shark-man’s head. Pinned by the heavy walkway, the mutant muttered a few choice swearwords before falling unconscious.
“Well then,” the Russian robot said as it walked up to the unconscious brute. “That’s one of the two down.”
“What do you mean ‘one of the-“
*phut*
Rigor Mortis collapsed on the ground in a heap, Cardinal’s pistol aiming directly where her head was. “Oh good,” Rose said lightly, nudging the smoky figure with her toe. “It isn’t a ghost after all. And I thought we’d have to call Bill Murray or something.”
The robot made a disappointed sound. “I wanted to meet Bill Murray.”
“Let’s just get these two back to Kimuratech, Ostuzhev,” Rose said, heaving the unconscious Rigor Mortis onto her shoulders. “This story has gone on long enough already.”
“Fair enough, comrade,”
“
Sacre bleu, could you be any more of a stereotype?”