Golden Iron Guard? There's No Such Thing

Nick Voinovich clears his throat in the tense silence.

"Some Japanese are looking at us," he announces. "Which is odd, because they are in Canada. One of them is a Finder, I believe; he is fanning the air with his hands, and there are kanji on both palms."

"Which kanji?" Jake says.

"These," says Nick, sketching them with a pencil with his eyes fixed on the horizon outside.

"That's Finder, all right," Jake says. "The guy must be good. Do these others look like Iron Guard or Shadow Guard?"

"I don't know," says Nick. "They're wearing fancy gold and steel armor, soaked with spells."

"Crap," says Jake. "How many suits of armor?"

"Six."

"Are they heading this way?"

"Travelling," Nick affirms. "About a hundred miles a jump. Now the Finder's looking around, locking in ... and Travelling again. We've got about ten minutes."

Richter says, "Christine, give me Torch."

Jake Sullivan lurches out of the room, down the kitchen stairs to the basement. For a big man, he moves fast, but it's not like running -- it's short, heavy, steps, chopping one after the other, leaning forward as though he's about to fall down. It's how you run on a steep downhill slope.

Kaze: "These are Mikami -- spirit in a machine, to translate. In 1900, my father was gifted with a suit of armor, as you saw, overlain by many spells. It is a way to get around the madness induced by commanding the spirits directly. He wore it only once of which we are aware--when he announced the Emperor's decision to go to war with the Roske."

"A story is told that one of these Mikami found its wearer to be unworthy and marched itself into the sea to drown his unwanted partner."

"As you saw, there are several Mikami at the very least. But it is rumored that another was added to the armory every year...."

One, Two, Three, Many

Suddenly and without warning, Jake Sullivan enters the room. But that's not so bad, because he lives here, and seemingly means no harm.

"Sky, that power you have is called Massive," he says without preamble. "I've just come from the root cellar -- it's okay. My reinforcing beams are holding up fine."

"It took me fifteen years to develop that power; I've got it doped out. It makes you a little stronger, but not enough to walk without falling over. So take small steps, shuffling your feet at first, till you get the hang of it. Okay? If you trip, you'll probably go right through that floor."

He looks intently at Sky.

"How are you feeling? Your blood weighs more than it used to. And if you keep using this Power, your bones and muscles are going to slowly get denser. Means you don' t have to keep it going all the time to be tough, but it also means you can't turn off the extra mass. If you like being light on your feet, you might want to lay off that Power most of the time."

"The good news is, it doesn't take much magic. You can stay Massive for a couple of hours, easy, and if you have more magic than I do, then longer. And if you really push it, I mean strain everything you got, you're pretty much invulnerable. Like that guy in the funny books."

Jake looks around at everyone. The socially perceptive among them (Belle, Kaze, Sky the gambler, maybe Michael) notice that Jake's looking hard at Richter, but covering it by glancing at everyone else.

"There's something else I've doped out over the years," Jake says. "I'm a Heavy. I eventually learned to be a Massive, too. So I've got two powers. And I've heard of other guys who had two Powers, also."

"The thing is, each Power is a different way of understanding the Power itself. The Power is putting out magic to everyone on Earth, but you hear it with your mind, not your ears. It's not a human being at all -- it's a four-dimensional space squid. So its mind isn't a human mind, either. Everyone hears it in their minds, all the time, but most of us can't understand what we hear. Each Power is like a different piece of what it's beaming to us."

"So I took the Heavy piece and figured out how the Massive piece, which is similar, worked. But everyone I know who has got more than two Powers, pretty soon, they've got 'em all. Seems to me you only need three pieces to solve the whole puzzle."

"And this is why I'm telling you -- everyone who got three pieces -- the Chairman, the Spellbound, Rasputin -- was as crazy as a football bat. Everyone except Faye, and she gave the Power back before it turned her mind inside-out. She thinks if she'd stayed connected to all the Powers, she'd have been thinking like the Power, and people can't think that way.

"Maybe the Power thinks in a different way which works, but on humans, it looks just like raving madness. And usually violent madness."

"Hell, what does the Power do? It gives us magic to fight and get stronger, then gathers it back up when we die. You see a person doing that, you call him a cannibal feeding on his gladiators, or worse."

Jake takes a breath. He hasn't talked this much in years.

"So if. IF. You get two Powers -- watch it. And don't ask for a third. Because you probably aren't the one person in history, so far, who can handle it."

Everyone is looking at Christine, who at last count had six Powers.

"What?" she says. "No, I don't have the Powers. I'm just .. holding them. Face-down, sort of?"

Jake's face is stone.

Tea Means ... Tea?

Richter has agreed with Kaze that a private eye could keep watch on Hitomi.

Kaze: "And you can hire such a person... without it being traced?"

Richter: "Aw, sure, the right kind of money papers over a lot of questions ... all of 'em, for a certain type of guy."

Saburo, who has remained silent up till now: "The longer we let him recover, the stronger Hitomi will be when he returns. We should attack, even if we have no chance of success, to cost him the initiative."

He stands up.

"I volunteer to attack Hitomi to buy you more time. You will use this time wisely, I hope."

Richter is nonplussed.

"Suicide isn't good strategy," he says.

"Begging your pardon, but is it not so that when you went over the top in the Great War, you knew you were likely to die? But you did so for the sake of your race. It seems to me that the situations are alike, but perhaps you will explain to me how they are not."

Kaze shakes her head.

"Saburo, if anyone should be buying time, it should be I. He will not immediately attack me."

She gives a slight smile and shrug of her shoulders.

"I could no doubt delay him for several hours if I offered to serve him tea--properly."
"For our ways are not your ways, Mr. Richter."

Nick Voinovich: "In the spirit of cultural curiosity, what exactly does 'properly' serving tea constitute? In your ways."

Kaze: "To explain would also require hours--as well as demonstration... and regretfully, we are not at our leisure."

Amused. "The chaji celebrates both inner and outer beauty. Properly done, it occupies perhaps four hours."

That explains exactly none of what Nick wanted to know -- but it does remind him that if the answer is as he fears, he would rather it weren't stated in mixed company.

Fire in the Mind

Kaze bows to Richter.

"Mr. Richter, I believe your new torch power is influencing your actions if not your long-term decisions. Do you need to set it aside while you plan?"

"No! It's MINE and I ..."

He sees how people are watching him.

"You're ... right, of course," he says slowly. "Christine, would you kindly hold my Torch while we work out our course of action?"

"Sure, Mr. R," she says, and carefully palms the burning brand off of Richter.

"Whoo!" she says afterward. "You're right, it does feel ... different. No wonder Scorchy was always so up!"

"It might be a demon," says Kaze mildly.

Christine: "Wait, what?"

Richter: "Oh, I'm sure it's not a DEMON ... per se. Just a spirit with strong inclinations, forceful opinions on ... burning things ... odd, I feel a bit less focused without it. Christine, if I could just borrow that back for a moment --"

Christine: "A DEMON? I want this thing out of me!"

She makes shooing motions with her hands, and foot-long streamers of flame leap forth.

Mrs. Sullivan captures the flames and confines them against her bosom.

"It is not a demon, Miss Tay-un," she says soothingly. "You will grow used to it in time. Do not be alarmed."

That seems to help, some.

Richter: "Well, never mind ... I can see this is going to be difficult. I'll soldier on without it. Now, ladies and gents: go straight for Hitomi, or keep him under the eye until we're ready? Is there really a lot else we need to do?"

Kaze, after raising an eyebrow at Mrs. Sullivan to see if it acceptable since she is otherwise occupied, elegantly pours Mr. Richter--and anyone else who wants it--some tea.

"While it would be... wrong--and foolish... to set the local, mundane authorities on him, perhaps other allies might be employed to delay him... or herd him ... into a more advantageous position for us. It would have to be someone who was working at a distance, not knowing what he was being asked to do--or someone who could shield himself and any others involved."

She adds hastily, "...I do not recommend keeping them uninformed as a matter of guile, but rather one of caution. Should he be using powers of detection."

Richter: "Sure, sure ... he's still a Reader, after all. He'll know what they know."

"Come to think of it, though, there's no reason we can't use a private eye."

Eyes On

Kaze asks Nick if he sees any of the enemy heading their way.

"Yes, I do. I think I see all of them."

"How close are they?"

Belle draws her gun and stands ready.

"Let's see," says Nick. "Four of the Iron Guard are in a line ... all the street signs are in Chinese, or perhaps it's Japanese. So they can't be closer than San Francisco. Not our immediate concern."

"Then there are six fellows who look a bit like the hit men we met in Tulsa. They are ... ah, Oklahoma plates ... in a car on a highway in the high grass. There's no snow, so they can't be closer than, I suppose, Illinois? We have several hours, even if they turn and move closer to our location."

"I'm not being very helpful, I'm afraid."

"Oh, and there's the Tattooed Man. He's undergoing further tattooing from, ah, some kind of demon, with a very wide head and fingers which appear to have been replaced with tattoo needles .. they're dripping smoking ink. The Tattooed Man is screaming. It seems very painful. Hm ... nearby are ... Negroes eating .. a bookstore ... a subway. A very large subway. I think, everything considered, he is in Harlem."

"That is helpful," she says, smiling encouragingly. She doesn't smile much. It's a bit of a new look.

Speaking of looks, she looks at Richter, expecting him to do something with this intelligence.

Richter is indeed interested. He starts to smoulder.

"You have eyes on Hitomi RIGHT THIS MINUTE?" Richter gasps. "We can .. is he surrounded by .. I mean, how many people are around him? We could pounce on him right now!"

"He's a thousand miles away, sir," Nick points out. "By the time we get there --"

Richter cuts him off with a chopped hand, trailing flames.

"NO, no! You keep him in sight all the time, and when we get there, we watch until he's alone, then hit him with everything at once! And while you're watching, we call everyone we know and get them all converging on his location ... this could work! We've GOT the bastard now!"

Nick breaks off his unfocused starting to glance at Richter. He seems to think Richter's getting too worked up.

"You're gonna burn my carpet," rumbles Jake Sullivan.

"No problem, I got it," says Mrs. Sullivan, who is indeed siphoning the flames into a swan shape in the kitchen.

(Janet notes alarm from many small animals in the house's vicinity. The flames have them worried.)

Someone Kicks in the Door With a Gun In His Hand

Gotten pretty quiet in  here, hasn't it?

Raymond Chandler said when he couldn't think of something to happen next, he had a guy come through the door with a gun.

Anyone want to volunteer to kick in a door?

A Full Hand

Janet is fascinated but the new senses and awareness of the animals. Focusing on the cat, she uses him to walk around the little farm and surrounding woods.

The farm looks very different to the cat; a barrel is a tower, a car is a hill, and the tops of things don't exist.

Until he thinks about jumping upon them, and then the smells of the upper surface tell him if it would be a good idea.

Dust smells differently from wet dust, which is distinct from fluffy dust, which is different from dry dust. All are as different as red is from blue. The cat's eyes see forward, but her smell and hearing are 360 degrees.

Everything comes through to Janet as black and white, except for movement. Whenever something moves, it assumes color, rather vivid and even garish color, but when it stops, it fades back to monochrome.

Janet notices (though Cherryblossom does not) that the fly passing overhead is moving slowly enough to see, no faster than a cloud passing in front of the moon. Indeed, everything Cherryblossom sees is in slow motion. Janet thinks she could move very fast if she wanted to.


Sky asks someone to punch him when he is heavy. "If I cannot take a punch, I cannot take a bullet. Maybe this is just weight gain, not tough skin, you know?

"No bruises on the kisser, please! I am electing to be escortifying this sweet young doll from the Save a Soul mission down to Havana on a wager, and dolls (as a rule) are unelectrified if a sharped-dressed palooka makes no configurings to keep himself cleanshaven and un-smudged in the mug. Which of you gents wants to take a poke?"

Richter waits for someone else to volunteer. When they don't, he stands up.

"You're either massive or just heavier," he muses. "We'll know who gets that fin in a second --"

And then he explodes in an uncoiling right cross that swings shoulders, hips, even feet into a sucker punch right on Sky's jaw. Onlookers gasp at its sudden ferocity.

CLUNK!

Richter recoils, nursing his stinging knuckles.

Sky feels the impact, but neither pain nor deflection. It's as if his sense of touch has been filtered by a colored lens, so only one type of sensation is still sensible.

"Definitely armor" Richter says, blowing on his hand. "Ow ..."

"So Christine currently has Massive, Torch, Healer, Beastie, Crackler, and, uh, Eye, I guess, in her hand of powers. This could be good ... we could surprise Hitomi, and also his goons, by switching things up."

"So do we take the time to master these Powers, or do we go after him again right now? I can find him ... it's what I do."

"Who's this Save a Soul gal you're talking about, Sky?" Christine wants to know.