Resistance (14 page)

“So where is Mr Hisatomi?” she asks.

“I’m so sorry,” comes the reply. “But Mr Hisatomi’s appointment calendar is very full.”

Wingman and Ellis had both cautioned against the direct approach; they had pointed out five other ways to tackle this whole Hisatomi business. But Uzma has been feeling itchy and restless ever since Prague, and is in no mood to be stopped by lackeys.

“Where is Norio Hisatomi?” she Asks the young woman.

“In the basement of this building,” she replies immediately. Her eyes widen, and then narrow. “I see you just used your mind rape power on me,” she says.

“What did you just say?” thunders Uzma.

“I apologise. My English is not perfect. Mr Hisatomi will see you, of course, but there is one small problem.”

“What is that?”

The young woman points at the giant bear on the holo-screen above the reception desk.

“There seems to be a minor security alert,” she says. “Now if you could please excuse me, I must make arrangements for the children.”

Uzma finds she has nothing to say as the woman walks off to the reception and starts issuing orders to guards.

“Any of you want to go kill a bear?” she asks her team.

“I like bears,” says Anima, not looking up from her screen.

“Do you like killing things?” ask Uzma.

“Yes.”

“Well, then get on it, people. Faceless, stay with me.”

“I don’t think we should get involved,” says Wingman. “It might rake up some bad memories in this part of the world.”

“That was years ago,” says Uzma. “If you get it right, it’ll help us.”

“They have a giant robot for this sort of nonsense,” says Wingman. “I really think we should stick together, Uzma. We don’t know what we’re up against here with this Norio fellow.”

“They’re just humans.”

“But if they have that girl—”

“Go,” Says Uzma.

As the Unit races out of the lobby, the young woman returns to Uzma. She’s wearing AR glasses and headphones.

“You clearly have a lot to hide,” says Uzma. “What is your name?’

“Azusa. I work for a large company, and am in possession of a lot of confidential financial information,” she replies. “I am afraid this is necessary.”

“I understand,” says Uzma. “I’ve sent my team to take care of your monster. Do let Mr Hisatomi know I’m waiting.”

“He knows, but I’m afraid you will have to wait a while longer. This tower was destroyed the last time the Unit fought one of the kaiju, and Mr Hisatomi’s family was killed during that battle. Since then, we have a very strict security protocol to follow.”

“We have a jet that can get him wherever he needs to go. We’ll talk on the way.”

“I’m very sorry, but Mr Hisatomi has no heirs and so is honour bound to follow the protocol. He will meet you after the kaiju is dead.”

“That’s fine,” says Uzma. “Is there a room where my associate and I could wait?”

Azusa casts a look at Jai. “I am afraid I must insist that the gentleman remove his armour,” she says.

Uzma sighs, and begins the usual story. “The Faceless has sworn by his clan’s rules that—”

“We are prepared to sign a confidentiality agreement regarding Mr Mathur’s identity,” says Azusa. “But he may not go past the lobby with his helmet on. Please do us this favour, Ms Abidi. We are making every attempt to cooperate with you.”

She meets Uzma’s baffled gaze with a completely bland expression, and smiles with what appears to be genuine gratitude as Uzma nods, and Jai removes his helmet.

“Welcome, once again, to Hisatomi Tower,” says Azusa.

“Please follow me.”

* * *

What the Kaiju King’s new bear lacks in beauty, it makes up for with agility. The kaiju usually specialise in standing in one place, wiggling their arms around and screaming – though that is usually because they spend all their time on land being pounded into bits by ARMOR. The bear moves from building to building, smashing each in innovative ways: some with huge swipes of its paws, others with police vans picked up from the street. There’s a hail of gunfire hammering into it from all sides; the bear does not let this get in the way of its rampage. It smashes through a glass tower belonging to an insurance conglomerate, then picks up a police car, shakes it until all the screaming policemen inside it fall out, and tosses it into the sky, where it hits a helicopter. Both vehicles explode in a spectacular mid-air fireball.

A speck of green light catches its attention – a little ball of green that darts from side to side. The bear bats at it with its paws, but the light dances out of its reach. Roaring in frustration and delight, the bear leaps at it, and chases it down a street, back the way it came. But after a minute or so, something stops it. It turns, losing interest in the light, and trundles back towards the Museum of Emerging Technologies.

Anima does not enjoy being ignored, and the bear kaiju discovers this the worst possible way. She charges herself up, bending the city around her as waves of green energy gather into her body. Then she shouts a challenge, and the sky lights up. From above the bay, the newsfeed cameras capture, for an instant, what looks like a giant lightsaber, a solid line of green energy as Anima flies forward and up, then charges full-tilt into the kaiju. She passes, burning, shining, right through it, and straight out of its chest where its heart should be. She bursts out like a comet, a black blob of kaiju slime that gives birth mid-flight to a shining green ball trailing an arcing stream of blood. Anima flies on until she is spent, a floating waif far above the shattered Odaiba skyline, and then her power runs out, and she is suddenly alone, floating in the sky, surrounded by fading green sparks.

The kaiju stands perfectly still, a human-sized hole burnt out of its torso. It staggers, too shocked to roar, totters, sending police cars screeching backwards.

Anima’s body folds up, twists. She falls like a stone. Jason runs towards her on a stairway in mid-air he builds as he runs, of chunks of steel, plaster and furniture ripped out of broken towers.

The kaiju falls. It smashes into yet another tower, sticks its head into a gigantic advertisement hoarding for beer, and lands with a
whump
that shatters every window on the street, fills the air with the caterwauling of car alarms, and sends a mushroom cloud of dust and debris into the sky.

Jason sends an endless sheet of metal and glass twisting through the air, and breaks Anima’s fall. She slides down the twisting slope, limbs flailing and he builds the slide below her, faster and faster, until he twists the metal in mid-air, and Anima is safe, sliding in circles in the bowl of a nineteen-foot-long spoon Jason builds in a second out of the side of a tower. Jason’s shoulders sag, and he stumbles, but before he can fall to his death Wingman plucks him up, soars into the air, and tosses Jason into an office.

The kaiju roars. It flings its forelimbs up, and rises again, slowly, its body creaking and shuddering like a tree in a gale. In a matter of minutes it stands again, holding on to a tower, its eyes burning as bright as before.

Wingman flies in sending bursts of plasma fire with deadly accuracy into the beast’s eyes. The kaiju swats at him, paws much larger than Wingman’s body flailing about with surprising speed, trying to squash him like a mosquito. His seventh strike connects; Wingman is caught in mid-flight. He scrambles, and in a desperate burst of speed flies out of the beast’s paw a second before it smashes it through a wall. Wingman is caught in a hailstorm of steel and concrete. Dizzy, bleeding, completely exhausted, he hovers, waiting for the killing blow. But it does not come.

Instead, Wu emerges from above, eyes glowing a blinding, pupil-less white, bringing lightning with her. A direct hit on the kaiju’s skull hurls it back, making it forget Wingman altogether. Above the beast, clouds gather and dance. Caught in the gathering storm, the newsfeed helicopters make desperate attempts to escape, but several are caught and tossed about in the howling wind.

Wingman calls out to Wu, but Wu is well past hearing him now. Fortunately for the intrepid journalists above them, the spirit riding Wu chooses to let them live. It leaves Wu, and the light in her eyes dies out. Wingman flies up and catches her – just in time. The kaiju makes a great leap towards them, and Wingman evades its wild strike with one second to spare.

The bear lands heavily on its hind limbs, and calms itself. It calls upon whatever unearthly force powers it, and blood stops pouring out of the hole Anima burnt in its chest. It thumps first one foot, then the other, like the universe’s largest sumo wrestler, then looks at its feet, and takes a deep, slow breath.

Then the giant bear looks up sharply, and opens its maw. A torrent of fire streams out of its mouth, up into the sky. The few helicopters still left above it burn instantly. As they fall flaming around the monster, it looks down again and strikes the nearest towers, roaring a challenge that echoes through every corner of Tokyo.

Wu answers. She has a new spirit in her now. She floats towards the kaiju, arms outstretched, talons of light extending from her fingers. A cold wind blows down the street, picking up clouds of debris and tossing them about, blasting the bear with torrent upon torrent of supercooled dust. Jason darts behind her, riding the storm surfer-style on an ad hoarding he’s shaped into a board. Wu flexes her spirit talons, and the dust storm turns into a tornado that spins into being in front of the kaiju. Jason sends a range of objects spiralling into the mix: cars, furniture from shattered towers, glass, girders, potted plants.

The kaiju ignores the twister, and thunders towards Jason and Wu. They retreat, and the beast chases them, smashing through the buildings in its way. But they are too fast, and it is too tired. Soon the beast stops again, and focuses itself. It squats into its sumo stance and prepares to bathe them in fire. One stomp. A second stomp. It looks to earth. It stares balefully at its opponents. It opens its mouth. Fire blossoms in its throat.

Wu brings her hands together, and the tornado rises and flows into the kaiju’s gaping maw.

The bear snaps its jaws shut. Its cheeks swell. A ripple runs down its body. Its eyes bulge.

The giant bear explodes.

* * *

The Unit’s heroes sit on the broken edge of a fiftieth-floor office in silence, breathing deeply, watching chunks of burning kaiju flesh rain down from the sky. They rub their eyes occasionally, and cover their noses.

Jason’s phone rings. It’s Uzma.

“If you’re done playing, could you get back to Hisatomi Tower? We have work to do,” she says.

“On our way,” says Jason, and disconnects. He looks at his teammates.

“Meeting,” he says.

“Can’t she handle one human on her own?” asks Anima.

“She might need us,” says Wu. “I sense danger.”

“Do you? I wonder why,” says Wingman. “Is it the danger of yet another Uzma Abidi master plan?”

“Or an epic Wingman whining session,” says Anima. “I like you so much when you’re fighting, Wingman. You should be in more fights.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” says Wingman. “I’m going home. You three are welcome to come along, if you like.”

* * *

“You smell,” says Uzma, as her warriors trudge into the waiting room. Anima grins, but the other three simply slump into the sofas, looking mostly dead. There’s an empty cup in front of Uzma, and an untouched full cup beside it. Jai stands silently behind her.

“Did you watch our fight?” Jason asks Jai. “We really didn’t need you out there today.”

“Jai was busy,” says Uzma. “We’ve been trying out the office facilities. The steam room is excellent. So is the spa.”

“When you investigate a company, you’re really thorough,” says Jason. “Could we get, like, a massage or something while you do your meeting?”

“This isn’t a time for luxury, Jason,” says Uzma, a massive grin finally breaking through. “We’re working.”

As two kimono-clad assistants serve the others steaming cups of sencha, Azusa joins them.

“Mr Hisatomi is on his way,” she says. “He asked me to convey his congratulations on your magnificent victory. You have saved our city.”

“Is ARMOR on holiday?” asks Uzma. “Why didn’t the robot show up?”

“ARMOR is a mecha, not a robot. It is a matter of shame that he could not give our guests a display of his abilities today of all days.”

“Well, he could do the city a great favour by cleaning it up, I suppose,” says Wingman. “We made a pretty big mess out there.”

“Your team is called the Unit, not the Cleaners,” says Azusa with a smile. “I hope the tea is to your satisfaction. Mr Mathur, would you not like to try some? We take great pride in our tea at Hisatomi Towers. It is from our own gardens.”

Jai refuses tea.

A panel on the wall behind Uzma slides to reveal a large screen. Norio appears on it.

“Thanks for waiting,” he says. “And thanks for not letting that creature break my tower.”

“I’d prefer to talk face to face, Mr Hisatomi,” says Uzma. “We’ve come a long way.”

“Indeed you have,” says Norio. “And yes, it’s time we met.”

* * *

Azusa takes them up to the very top of Hisatomi Tower. They walk out onto the roof, past a helipad and what looks like a miniature golf course. On a day involving less smoke, dust, fire and jagged dystopian cityscapes, Uzma could have spent hours absorbing the view. Instead, they follow Azusa to a magnificent Zen garden in the eastern corner: weathered rocks standing like islands amidst white gravel arranged with delicately raked ripples.

Norio stands outside the garden, at a vantage point where he is able to observe it all. As the Unit approaches, he turns and welcomes them with a formal bow. One by one, the heroes bow awkwardly, suddenly aware how shabby their clothes look compared to Norio’s suit, which is as sharp as a katana. Uzma notes he’s also wearing AR glasses and earphones.

“My father had a garden much grander than this,” says Norio with a smile. “It perished with him, unfortunately, when the last tower that stood here was destroyed. He loved his garden, and found harmony in it. I like to think he was near it in his last moments.”

“We are sorry for your loss,” says Uzma. “The Kaiju King has a lot to answer for.”