Heroes of the Multiverse
by Ari Rockefeller
Usual
disclaimers apply. These characters do
no belong to me.
It was a warm, summer day in
The streets of The City were packed,
even at 8:00 in the morning. Goku,
Tuxedo Mask and Ash Ketchum, the three heroes who promised an open audition for
heroes who want to join their organization, walked down
“So how many people are we going to
recruit, exactly?” Ash asked.
“It’s hard to say, Ash,” Goku
said. “We’re shooting for four; that’ll
make seven. The seven of us will be the
core of the team.”
“Later on, we will probably bring
more members onto the team,” Tuxedo Mask explained. “You have to realize that we’ll probably have
heroes here by the thousands. To choose
a handful of heroes out of thousands and say, ‘Okay, we’re not taking any more
applications, have a nice day!’ will not work.”
“I can imagine a lot of people won’t
be happy if they don’t get chosen,” Ash pointed out.
“Pi, ka, pika, pika?” “{I know; have
we planned for that?”} Pikachu said.
“We can’t really, can we?” Ash was
the only one who knew what Pikachu was saying.
“Unfortunately, no,” Tuxedo Mask
explained. “For all their heroic deeds,
most heroes we’ll come across here like to have their egos stroked every once
in a while. Suffice to say, we can not –
and more importantly, will not – take
on people who want to use our project as a status symbol.”
“Hopefully they’ll be remotely
mature enough to take rejection with a grain of salt,” Goku added. As they walked down the street, Goku eyed the
young Pokémon Master and his cloud. “You
know, you can walk. You don’t have to ride that thing everywhere
you go.”
“I know,” Ash insisted, “but…” the
cloud floated up just a little higher so Ash was eye level with Goku, “you guys
are a lot taller than me. I feel
so…insignificant.”
“Don’t let it get to you,” the Earth
Soldier insisted. “You’re young; you’ll
grow as you get older.”
Ash didn’t say anything; he just
kept pace with the other two heroes he was accompanied by. After a few more blocks, the sunlight was
obscured by numerous large shadows.
“Wow!” Ash shouted. “Is that a giant robot?!”
“Pi, ka!” {“Look at the size of
it!”} Pikachu shouted.
“What’s the matter, kid?”
“Nope, never!” Ash’s eyes were wide
until Goku started to speak.
“Damn it,” Goku grumbled, “I was
hoping those types wouldn’t show up.”
“What do you mean?” Ash asked.
“Giant mech pilots aren’t really the
best hero material, kid,” Goku explained.
“Most of them are whiny, angsty, frail little pretty boys who don’t want
to go into battle half the time and are likely to start crying when they do.”
“You’re generalizing, Goku,” Tuxedo
Mask responded. “You’re thinking that
all giant mech pilots are like Gundam pilots.”
“Probably, but that doesn’t change
the fact that 9 out of 10 are something like that.”
“Do all these Gundam guys pilot
robots that look like…that?” Ash asked, pointing at a particular mech. The mech in question was about 80 feet tall,
painted blue steel with flame details on the legs, a burning eyeball on the
right forearm and a burning 8-ball on the left.
It had blue fins with what appeared to be tail lights on the back of
them by the head. Only…there was no
robotic head on this mech; this model had a cherry red 1972 Plymouth Barracuda for a head. It, along with almost twenty other giant
robots were standing, a large, flat piece of land apparently designated as
“Giant Robot Parking (Two hour limit.
Violators will be towed at owner’s expense).”
Goku looked at the various giant
robots standing around idle. This is
going to be a problem,” he said.
“I know, right? And sorry, I have to ask,”
“Not that kind of problem…”
CHAPTER VII
LIKE BOYS WITH TOYS
With the main halls of the
convention center kept at a comfortable 60 degrees, the thousands of potentials
in the
“You got me up at 6:00 A.M. for
this, Dorothy?” Roger Smith asked, rolling his eyes. “I can not believe this. And we’ve been standing in line like this for
nearly two hours.”
“I wish you could see the greater effect
impact your actions here will have,” Dorothy said in her usual, monotone. “You are a louse, Roger Smith.”
Roger was again about to argue about
how he a) didn’t know what a freelance negotiator would do among a battalion of
superheroes, b) had better things to do today than stand in line, and c) liked
to sleep in most days—like this one. The
sounds coming from the people standing behind him interrupted him. A young man in his mid 20s – a very large young man, about 350 pounds –
was leaning against the wall, a 44 ounce tri-chambered Mega Slush Super Goblet
in his left hand and breakfast burrito in his other. A plastic bag filled with three more
breakfast sammiches and half a dozen
hash browns hung off his left wrist.
With him were a pretty red-headed woman in white and blue clothing and
another young man in blue jeans, a black hoodie and a green wool beanie. Roger and Dorothy watched the young people
behind them.
“You actually plan on eating all of
that?” Kiva asked. She was living in
“Most likely,” Coop said, wiping his
greasy hand on his hip. “Dude, this is a
light breakfast for me.” Kiva groaned
and rolled her eyes.
“You’ve seen how he eats when he’s
hungry,” Jamie added.
Kiva put her hands on her hips. “And this doesn’t disgust you?”
“On the right days it provides some
quality entertainment.”
The three did not know the man and
the robot in front of them were watching, until the robot made a comment to the
man. “I take that back,” Dorothy said,
turning to Roger. “He is a louse.”
Coop was brought out of his eating
trance, surprisingly enough, by a word he didn’t know the meaning of. “What’s a louse?” he asked.
“If you must know, a louse is—”
“That’ll be all, Dorothy,” Roger
insisted, quickly stepping in front of the android. He was now looking at the confused face of
the obese twenty-something with the huge appetite. “You’ll have to forgive my…my assistant
here,” he explained. “She can be very
brunt sometimes.”
Coop shrugged. “S’cool; no big deal.”
“Anyway, I don’t believe we’ve been
formally introduced.” Roger reached into an inner pocket of his suit jacket and
pulled out a black business card case.
His name was engraved on the front in cursive script letters. “My name is Roger Smith. I’m a negotiator in
Coop took the card and looked it
over. On it was Roger
Smith, Negotiator,
along with his home address and telephone number. “Right on, right on,” he said. Coop handed the card to Jamie, who slipped it
into his pocket. “So…that’s what you
do? Negotiate?”
“It’s a living, and a very good
living at that. I’m the best at what I
do.” As Roger continued his spiel, he
made sure to keep his words simple so this dope wouldn’t get lost. “
“So is
“Knock it off, Jamie,” Kiva chided.
“…anyway, we like to keep things in
Paradigm nice and orderly. So whenever
there’s a dispute that seems ready to boil over into something chaotic, they
call me in to keep the peace.”
“Uh-huh…and when that doesn’t work?”
“I also pilot a giant robot.”
“Nice,” Jamie said with a grin.
Coop’s eyes lit up. “You pilot a giant robot?!” he asked. “Oh, man, that’s awesome! I pilot a giant robot too!”
Roger raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess…the blue one out back with the
old, beat-up Barracuda for a head?”
“That’s the one! Hey…” Coop’s mood changed. “You bad-mouthing my car, man?”
“No, not at all, I just find it odd
that a mech has an old muscle car for a head and not…you know, a head.”
“In Coop’s defense,” Kiva
interrupted, “the head was destroyed when I stole it and traveled through
time.”
“That’s not the half of it,” Jamie
added. “She screwed up her course and
sent the thing to
“What?” Roger was taken back. “You mean to tell me your mech was a rusted
piece of junk just sitting there doing nothing?”
“Yup! You wouldn’t think that, seeing what shape
it’s in now! Hell of a lot of work
though. I dropped in a new engine, did
some bodywork…”
“Yeah, that’s great,” Roger
interrupted. “Just out of curiosity,
don’t you think you and your friends are wasting your time?”
“Wasting our time? Wasting our time how?”
“Don’t kid yourself, kid. One part of being a hero is that people look
up to them and at times emulate them.
I’m sure you’re a great pilot and all, but what makes you think you have the ‘superhero’ look that
people are looking for? I mean, look at
yourself!”
…but, who was Coop to compare
himself to? This prima Donna? With his large, dusty jeans, torn red flannel
vest with a white T-shirt with yellowed armpits, Coop wasn’t anything special
to look at, but he would get the job done.
Now his worth as a pilot was being illegitimatized because this guy
dressed better than he did?
“Look, pal,” he said, angry, “when
I’m fighting alien armies in whatever godforsaken part of the galaxy, I don’t
have time to worry about what they’re wearing.
All that matters is that I’m a better pilot than they are! And you know what? I’m pretty sure I’m a better pilot than you!”
Roger was moments away from making
this punk prove himself when the sound of doors opening echoed throughout the
main hall. Everyone suddenly got quiet
as the three organizers entered and walked to a stage set up in the middle of
the hall. Goku and Tuxedo Mask were in
front, a few paces apart from one another, while Ash was in the center, a step
or two behind. On the simple stage was a
wooden podium with a microphone situated in the middle. They made their way onto the stage,
“Good morning,” he started. Some started to cheer for the three
heroes. “Yes, thank you.” He cleared his throat. “First, I would like to thank each and every
one of you who have taken time out of their schedules to…heh…wait in line for
the audition. It’s your showing ambition
and drive that is going to make this special.
And we really appreciate this.”
He became more serious. “However,
my associates and I have come to a decision that we know isn’t going to sit
well with some of you.” He looked at
Goku, who nodded.
There was a great outcry at this
declaration. Apparently there were
either more than they thought, or others were groaning because the organizers
had made such a dick move. Slowly, the
pilots left the line and headed out of the building. They felt embarrassed; it felt like they were
being put on display for the other heroes’ entertainment. Thankfully, there weren’t any insults thrown
their way and their exit was relatively peaceful.
But two of the pilots couldn’t keep
their mouths shut.
“This is bullshit!” Coop
yelled. “I can’t believe I got cut! And I didn’t even talk to any one of those
guys!”
“Oh, darn,” Roger deadpanned. “I don’t get to spend all of my time as part
of a team of superheroes. What a
let-down.” Sarcasm dripped from each
word.
“Perhaps they would still be in need
of your negotiation skills, Roger,” Dorothy argued.
“Dorothy, you’re missing the
point. I never wanted to be a part of
this; in fact, this whole day has been a waste of time. I’m perfectly fine being a freelance
negotiator.” He glanced at Coop and his
friends, who just passed him and Dorothy.
“At least I have something else to do with my life.”
Coop froze in his tracks, and turned
around. Jamie and Kiva were wide-eyed;
Coop was mad, and when he was mad, something or someone would get ruined,
burned down or blown up. “What did you
say?” he snapped.
“You heard me,” Roger answered. “I’m saying you’re a blight on society. You’re doing nothing with your life and
you’re just another slacker that both this world and your world would be a lot better off without! The fact that someone like you has come across
a giant robot is nothing more than a miracle.”
“Alright, that’s it!” Coop
roared. “I’m not gonna stand here and
let you bad mouth me and my robot! It is
on, Roger Smith!”
“You have my card; call me later and
we’ll set something up—”
“Screw that, we’re doing this right
the fuck now!” By now, everyone within
earshot was surrounding the two pilots, and with this challenge thrown down,
everyone was clamoring for them to throw down.
“Fine!” Roger agreed. “Just don’t come crying to me when you’re
salvaging your mech for scrap metal and spare parts!” He turned and walked
toward the exit, his pace quicker than usual.
Dorothy was right behind him.
“Roger, I must advise against this
battle,” Dorothy said. “It is not a good
idea.”
“Duly noted, Dorothy,” Roger
said. “But someone’s gotta shut that
lard ass up, and if I don’t, he won’t stop running his mouth.” As they turned the corner, they saw the Big O standing in the wide, expansive
parking lot, waiting for its master.
Roger brought his watch up to his mouth.
“Big O! Showtime!” he
shouted. The eyes of the giant Megadeus
lit up. As Roger approached, the left
foot opened up, and Roger and Dorothy ran inside. The pilot’s seat was in the center of a
platform, which Roger sat himself in, Dorothy on his left side. Once inside, the foot closed, and a system of
elevators took him up the height of the interior, up into the cockpit. Roger crossed his arms over his chest. The Big
O’s main controls came down and encircled him at arm level. The boot up completed with the main monitor
in front of Roger lit up, and this phrase scrolled across the screen:
CAST IN
THE NAME OF GOD—YE NOT GUILTY.
“You’ve made a grave mistake in
challenging me, kid,” Roger said.
“Ah, someone’s gonna get they ass
whooped tonight!” Coop shouted in his best redneck accent from the “cockpit” of
his own mech.
“Let’s teach this loud mouth a
lesson, Big O,” Roger said, leaning forward, his feet pressing the pedals
forward. “Action!” The giant, black robot with the huge arms lurched
out of the parking lot and into the street, and began its slow march towards its enemy.
Back in Coop’s Barracuda, Coop and his crew waited in mild surprise. This guy’s robot moved with all the speed of
a tectonic plate. Every step it took
resounded with a loud byong! sound
that echoed loudly. Those byong!s were not all too frequent,
either, leaving Coop to wonder what kind of use such a slow-moving robot would
have.
“Are you…” Coop started, “…serious?”
“It would appear so,” Kiva said,
bringing up the Big O’s specs through
a series of holograms in the back seat of the car. “This Megadeus is designed only for ground
combat, and has a top land speed of 40 miles an hour.”
“Give me a break,” Jamie
scoffed. “This thing can’t break the speed
limit on the Black Horse Pike.” He
turned to Coop. “Of course, you know
what that means, bro—something that slow
must have enough firepower to take out a small continent.”
“It’ll have to get to us, first,”
Coop answered. “So Jamie, do you wanna
throw down in some Madden until that
guy gets within firing range?” Jamie
laughed loudly. Coop was all ready to
break out the controllers and wheel the PS2 out from its compartment under the
stereo when Big O struck. Megas shook
all over as it was assaulted by machine gun fire. Two .90 caliber machine guns in Big O’s chest plate rained bullets on
the big blue robot at a rate of about 5000 a minute. Coop cursed loudly at the assault, and then
regained himself. The Megadeus followed
up the attack. Its two arms locked
straight up and down before turning inward, the head of Big O glowing. When it
slammed its fists together, it fired a bright pink and white beam at Megas, leveling it.
“Ha,” Roger scoffed. “I told you this guy was a pushover,
Dorothy.”
“Roger,” Dorothy asked, “shouldn’t
we make sure Coop has been defeated first?”
“Relax, Dorothy. This kid’s robot is just as disgraceful as he
is. He should know better and stay
down.”
Roger looked at his monitor
again. He watched in shock as the
80-foot tall robot did a kip-up as easily as any martial arts master.
“He does not know better, Roger.”
Coop revved the engine repeatedly
and gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Okay, you stuffed shirt son of a bitch!”
Coop started. “You embarrass me in front
of the other heroes, punk out me and my robot, and you made Jamie and me miss a perfectly good game of Madden!
Oh…you have NO IDEA what kind of hell you’ve just unleashed!” With a loud yell, Coop stomped on the gas, and
his robot sprinted forward. Roger had no
time to react to the unexpected speed the Megas
displayed, and instead took a running boot right to Big O’s head. Roger Smith’s
robot went down like a ton of bricks.
The street was shredded as the Megadeus
skidded several blocks under the enemy mech’s attack. The Megas
grabbed Big O and hauled it back
to its feet, only to start punching it repeatedly. Roger blocked Coop’s assault, shielding the
rest of the body with the huge forearms of his Megadeus.
“Man! What kind of metal is this
thing made out of?” Coop asked. His
answer came from a sudden head butt from Roger Smith and his Big O, making him stagger back.
“I think both of you need to cool
off,” Kiva quipped.
“Him more so than me,” Coop answered. He pushed a few buttons on one of the video
game controllers adorning the steering wheel, then reached for the climate
control slider. It was situated in the
middle between hot and cold, but Coop slid it all the way down
past cold, past really cold, even further beyond Jersey winters all the way to Fuck, it’s cold!. The Megas
brought its arms together, the hands locked in The Horns position. The hands withdrew, and from the arms came an
enormous wave of cold air that encased the entire Big O in ice. Another hard
right hook shattered the ice into a million pieces, knocking the Megadeus
clear.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, back inside the
convention center, Tuxedo Mask continued to address the crowd of heroes. Goku and Ash were at either side, listening
to the instructions closely. They did
not notice the giant robot battle going on outside. Or, they did not acknowledge it.
Alright, listen up, people,”
Goku sat in the middle chair, with
Tuxedo Mask on the left. As he sat down,
he took off his top hat and placed it on the table off to the side. Ash sat down in the right chair, and seeing
the Earth Soldier’s gesture, did the same with his own hat. The two others each took a file off the top
of the nearest stack.
“Hey, guys,” Ash started, Pikachu
settling in his lap. “Do you think it
was a good idea to cut all those mech pilots like that? A bunch of them seemed upset.”
“It wasn’t a popular decision,”
Tuxedo Mask explained, “but it was necessary.
We really didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.”
“Besides, they’ll get over it,” Goku
added.
* * * * *
After being rejected for a superhero
audition with an elite superhero coalition, most giant mech pilots went
elsewhere. But a heated argument between
two pilots led to a giant robot fight in the middle of the city.
It wasn’t very long of a battle.
The black robot, known as the Big O looked like it had just walked
through hell, considering the beating it suffered at the hands of its blue
nemesis, called the Megas. It sported some battle damage itself, but
once it really got going, it was a fairly one-sided battle.
And now the Megas set to finish off the Big
O, the former holding the latter with its head under its right armpit. With its free arm, it threw up its left hand,
the hand showing the classic The Horns gesture.
Inside the cockpit, Coop mimicked
that gesture. Rather…the Megas mimicked his. One of the Megas’ traits included copying the movements of its pilot—usually
dusting off its hands after winning the day.
But Coop wanted it to be perfectly clear what was going on. People lined what was left of the sidewalks
to watch the climax of this battle, cheering wildly for more destruction.
And they would have it.
Coop revved the engine a few times,
his right hand on the steering wheel and his left up in the air, throwing up
the same Horns that the robot was. And
then, he let out a triumphant roar…
“E-C-FUCKING-W!”
Coop’s free hand flew down to the
handle on the side of his seat and pulled it back, causing both him to recline
all the way back and cause his robot to drill Big O’s head into the concrete in a DDT. Megas got
back to its feet, and looked down at the fallen mech.
“Okay, Coop,” Kiva started, “I think
he’s had enough.”
“No…” Coop breathed. “Not yet.
I got one more thing to do.” His
hand grabbed the 8-ball-capped gear shift, and yanked the thing downward and
stepped on the gas. Megas then jumped high into the air, the rocket thrusters on its
back kicking in. It went up about a mile
before it started its descent.
“I’m going for the ‘Coop de Grace’,”
he explained. The robot turned downward,
flying back to the ground with both fists extended. “And here it comes! THE DOUBLE DEUCE!”
Jamie chuckled. “I love the Double Deuce.”
Inside the Big O, every possible warning siren was blaring. The robot couldn’t move. Dorothy was tossed about the cockpit, while
Roger started at the monitor with wide, disbelieving eyes. He could do nothing as the Megas came down, fists first, right on
his robot’s chest.
The Big O twitched violently, then stopped altogether. The Megas
stood up, surveying its defeated opponent.
It casually dusted off its hands.
“Well, that’s that,” Coop said,
dusting off his hands. “Who’s up for
some Chinese? I hear this city’s got
some great buffets.”
“Coop! You just ate breakfast a little while ago!”
Kiva shouted.
“Yeah, but…that battle got my
appetite going again.” Coop looked out
the windshield. “Besides, I’ve got a hankering
for some General Tso’s chicken like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Well, we could start by checking
out the part of the city you didn’t destroy.”
“You do know not all of that was
Coop’s fault, right Kiva?” Jamie asked.
“I know, right? Besides, it’s not like this city hasn’t seen
two giant robots kicking one another’s ass.”
Coop shifted the mech into drive.
“Now come on, I’m starving!”
Jamie reached for the radio and
turned up the volume. Kiva groaned and
rolled her eyes.
* * * * *
“Well then,” Tuxedo Mask said,
opening up his file, “bring in the first hero.”
If
I could, gentlemen, I’d like to borrow a moment of your time.
“Who said that?” Ash asked,
surprised by the unfamiliar voice.
“Pi ka chu?” {“And where’d that come
from?”} Pikachu asked.
That
would be me.
The space in front of their table
began to ripple, and a small figure appeared.
It looked like a toddler, but it was floating so it was eye level with
the heroes. The figure – a he, most likely
– was wearing a blue Chinese fighting dress, with a red sash around his
waist. On his head he wore a tall, blue
miter, with a red circle with the kanji for “Emperor” in black in it. The miter had a pink brim with “Jr.” in the
center. He also had an ice blue pacifier
in his mouth.
“Koenma-sama!” Goku and Tuxedo Mask
said, springing to their feet. Ash
looked in awe at this little…guy, and then looked at his other heroes. He was still seated.
“Stand up, kid!” Goku shouted. Ash scrambled to his feet.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough of
that,” Koenma said. “I’m not here to
look for tribute – I’m not like my father – I’m here to give my recommendation
to a particular hero who is trying out today.”
“Well, okay then,” Tuxedo Mask
said. “We can’t guarantee anything,
though, sir. He’s still got to go
through the process just like everything else.”
“I have no problem with that. And I’m sure he won’t either.” Koenma looked at the young boy with the
Pikachu in his lap. He still looked bewildered. “I see you don’t know who I am…” he
stated. Ash shook his head “no”. “Very well, then. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Koenma, son of Yama, gatekeeper of the
Spirit World.”
“What’s the Spirit World?” Ash
asked. “Is it anything like Heaven?”
“Heaven? Now where would you—oh, right,
right…monotheistic religion in your world.
My mistake.” Koenma cleared his
throat. “Anyway, to sum it up, the
Spirit World is where you go when you die.
If you’re good, you go to
“So it’s like Heaven and Hell put
together?”
“If you want to see it like that,
yes.”
“Um, Koenma,” Tuxedo Mask
interrupted, “this person you’re endorsing…he still has to wait in line like
everyone else, too.”
“Don’t think I haven’t planned for
that. For your information, he happens
to be the very first person in line.
Shall I bring him in?” Koenma
gestured to the doors, not waiting for an answer. They swung open, and a young man of about
fifteen walked in. The youth was wearing
what looked like a traditional Japanese man’s school uniform, only it was a
shade of bright green. He had black hair
with subtle dark green tints in it. He
had his hands in his pockets. His walk
was cool and confident.
“What’s up,” he said, with a slight
wave.
“Allow me to introduce Yusuke
Urameshi,” Koenma explained, “detective of the Spirit World, and the most
powerful human on his Earth.”
“This Earth, on the other hand,”
Yusuke started, “…well, I’m working on it.”
“Interesting,” Goku said. “So what kind of powers do you have?”
“Well, I don’t like to brag, but…I’m
an excellent fighter, I have hundreds of arrests for the Spirit World to my
credit, and I have what’s called the Spirit Gun.”
Goku arched an eyebrow. “Spirit Gun?”
“Allow me to show you.” Yusuke faced to his left (the three heroes’
right), and pointed his hand out to look like a gun. Bright blue energy gathered at his fingertip,
and grew until it was the size of a baseball.
“SPIRIT GUN!” Yusuke yelled, letting the energy fly. It slammed into a wall, the explosion ripping
a hole in the wall big enough to drive a truck through.
Goku was wide-eyed in surprise. Sure, the attack was nothing too spectacular
by his standards; he could easily do the same, though not through one finger. But the fact that this ordinary kid with
little formal martial arts training who spends most of his days getting into
fights at his school could generate such levels of ki and do that with it was surprising.
“Wow,” Goku said, “I’m
impressed. Interesting attack you’ve
got.”
“You should’ve seen me when I first
started out with it,” Yusuke said. “I
could only fire one bullet a day.”
“And now…?”
“On a good day I can squeeze off
eight shots. Heh, only had to go that
far once, though. That was a hell of a
battle.”
The conversation was interrupted by
commotion outside. Seconds later, the
door was kicked in so hard it almost fell off its hinges. Another young man barged in, stopped about a
foot away from Koenma and Yusuke, and bent over and put his hands on his
knees. This youth was taller than
Yusuke, and had thick, red hair. He wore
a uniform like Yusuke’s, but it was blue.
He was panting heavily.
“Damn it, Urameshi!” he
shouted. “Why the hell didn’t you wait
for me?! I thought we were signing up
for this together!”
Yusuke shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my fault you overslept,” he
retorted. “I waited a few minutes
longer, you didn’t show, I went to the audition myself.”
“Do you two know each other?” Tuxedo
Mask asked.
“That’s right, we do,” Yusuke said.
“This…” Koenma explained, “is Kazuma
Kuwabara, a classmate and partner of Yusuke’s.
But everyone just calls him Kuwabara.”
Kuwabara turned on his heel to face
Goku and Tuxedo Mask. He bowed
deeply. “It is a great honor to meet you
two gentlemen,” he said. He slowly
straightened up. Out of the corner of
his eye, he saw another person standing there.
“Who’s the kid?”
“Kid?!” Ash snapped. “Hey, I’m no ordinary kid, you know!”
“Pikachu!” {“That’s right!”} Pikachu
shouted.
“Huh? Oh.
Oh, yeah, I recognize you now, you’re Ash Ketchum. Yeah, that’s great.” He looked back at the first two. “So…what, do we get the job?”
“Kuwabara!” Koenma snapped. “Calm down, would you?”
“Sorry. I guess I’m just excited, is all.”
“If he’s Yusuke’s partner, the least
we could do is see what he’s got,” Tuxedo Mask said.
“Alright! Now watch this!” Kuwabara made a fist, and channeled his own
spirit ki into it. “SPIRIT SWORD!” he
shouted, just a column of yellow light exploded out of the side of his fist,
four feet in length. He did the same
with his other fist, and soon he had two Spirit Swords, one in each hand. Goku felt the same brand of energy flowing
through the blades as he did with Yusuke’s Spirit Gun.
“He also has this thing where he can
sense when ghosts and other spirits are in the area,” Yusuke explained to
Goku. “Where I come from, we simply call
it ‘The Tickle’.”
“Yeah,” Kuwabara added, “you
wouldn’t believe how many demons got pissed off when they got owned by two
measly humans.”
“Measly?” Yusuke said. “Who you calling measly, Kuwabara?”
“Oh give me a fucking break,
Urameshi,” Kuwabara groaned, “you know humans are looked down by the rest of
the species in existence.” He looked at
the three heroes. “I bet it’s the same
in this world, isn’t it?”
“Well, we don’t get very many
‘aliens’ in this world,” Goku explained, “so it’s difficult to tell.”
“And the inhabitants of the Spirit
World stick to their own world, for the most part,” Koenma added. “But when they do start causing trouble, these
two are there to help put it down. I
have my complete trust in these young men.”
“Well, I’ll take your word on
that.” Goku turned to Koenma. “Thanks for stopping by, you two. Don’t go anywhere…this is gonna be a while.”
“Good luck, you two,” Koenma
said. He started to disappear. “And Yusuke, try not to embarrass
yourself.” The lesser deity disappeared
into nothing.
“Embarrass myself?!” Yusuke
snapped. “Grrrr…I hate being mouthed off
to by someone who looks like a toddler.”
“Well, how old is he?” Ash
asked. “Two? Three?”
“Try almost a thousand years old,”
Yusuke answered. “And no, it doesn’t
take a millennium to move passed diapers.”
* * * * *
“Behold!” shouted a man with a
massive jaw. “I am…THE CLEFT!”
“Next,” Tuxedo Mask said. He ran his hands through his hair.
* * * * *
A wizard with an oversized head that
looked like a man’s nutsack stood before the heroes. “I am the mental marvel—THE SCROTE!”
Goku, Tuxedo Mask and Ash all
exchanged wide-eyed glances. “NEXT!”
they all shouted.
* * * * *
“Let our powers combine!” shouted an
African teen wearing all khaki clothing.
There were four others with him, and the only two constants were a blue
T-shirt with a green globe on the front, the symbol of their little clique, and
a magic ring they wore on their right hands.
He aimed his ring-clad fist up at the ceiling. “EARTH!”
A beam of green light shot upward.
A red-headed man with a heavy
Next was a Russian girl with a blond
ponytail. “WIND!” Her ring shot out a beam of white light.
Then, there was an Asian girl with
cropped black hair. “WATER!” Her ring shot out a blue beam of light.
Finally, there was a kid from South
American of Mayan descent, with a small monkey on his shoulder. “HEART!”
His ring gave off an orange beam of light.
The five beams met in a common place
above the five of them, causing a brilliant flash of light. When the light subsided, a sixth figure was
present, and flew around the room a few moments before introducing himself.
“By your powers combined…” he
shouted, “I AM CAPTAIN PLANET!”
The five youths below pumped their
fists in the air. “GO PLANET!” they
shouted.
The three heroes were
speechless. There was an uneasy silence
in the air as the two groups looked at one another. “Captain what…?” Goku asked.
The stranger approached the heroes. “Greetings,” he started, “I am Captain
Planet, defender of planet Earth from the forces of evil!”
“So what’s your gimmick?” Tuxedo
Mask asked.
“I am a force of nature, and my
‘gimmick’ is that I, along with my Planeteers…” He gestured to the five young
people who summoned him, “…fight to clean the world of pollution.”
“Interesting. And your friends there, what about them, what
can they do?”
“I am their powers united and
multiplied. So, unfortunately, they
can’t use their powers as long as I’m around.
Ash was silent, but he couldn’t help
but ask a question that was burning in the back of his mind. “What kind of power is ‘heart’, anyway?” he
asked.
“It is the power to read the
thoughts and emotions of other living things,” the kid with the power of Heart,
Ma-Ti, said.
The monkey on Ma-Ti’s shoulder,
Su-Chi, was not in a good mood. He sat
on the boy’s shoulder, a sour look on its face.
Its eyes never left those of the yellow mouse in the boy hero’s
lap. He let out some monkey chatter,
capped with a loud screech.
“Pi?
Pi-ka?!” {“Huh? What was that?!”}
Pikachu shouted.
More monkey chatter and arm waving
followed from Su-Chi.
“Su-Chi? What’s wrong?” Ma-Ti asked. It screeched a few more times.
“Yo, Ma-Ti, can we get a translation?”
Wheeler, the fire wielder asked.
“I can’t without my power,” Ma-Ti
answered, flashing his ring.
“Pika? Pika, Pikachu!” {“Oh, yeah? Come over here and say that!”} Pikachu
retorted. He hopped out of Ash’s lap and
stood on the end of the table, his fur standing on end.
“Pikachu, what’s wrong?” Ash asked.
“Pika pika-pika?” {“Do you hear what
he’s saying about me?”} he answered.
Gi looked at Kwame. “Do you know what they’re saying?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” Kwame said.
Su-Chi retorted with more monkey
chatter, ending by leaning forward and waving his hand over his face four
times, each wave accompanied with a chirp.
“I understood that,” Linka said.
So did Pikachu. He growled loudly, sparks crackling off its
red cheeks.
Goku and Tuxedo Mask leaned toward
one another, still facing forward. “Did
that monkey just give Pikachu the ‘You Can’t See Me’?” he asked, mimicking the
gesture.
“Oh yeah.”
This set the yellow mouse off, and
he jumped off the table and sprinted toward the monkey. Su-Chi jumped off Ma-Ti’s shoulder and ran,
the two circling the Planeteers. Ma-Ti
repeatedly called for Su-Chi to stop, as did Ash to Pikachu. Everyone else started clamoring as well,
including Captain Planet, who was now floating above his Planeteers, watching
the mouse chasing the monkey. Finally
the monkey jumped up and stood on Ma-Ti’s head, leaving Pikachu on the
ground. But that did not stop him. The group drew in a gasp as Pikachu’s cheeks
started to spark.
“Pi…ka…CHUUUUUUUUUUU!” he shouted, cutting
loose with a huge thunderbolt.
Instantly, Captain Planet and his Planeteers were engulfed in a cloud of
yellow electricity, all seven convulsing and blathering gibberish as Pikachu
electrocuted them. When Pikachu cut off
the flow of electricity, they hung in place for a second, then collapsed in a
big heap, Captain Planet on top of the pile.
Ash rushed over and roughly picked
up Pikachu. “What did you do that for?!”
he shouted. “What is the matter with
you?!”
“Pi ka!” {“He started it!”} Pikachu
argued. “Pika pi ka, pi ka pi ka chu!”
{“You heard what he was saying about you and me!”}
“That’s still no excuse for giving
these guys a thunderbolt! Now even if we
wanted them to join, they wouldn’t after that!”
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Goku
said, “we were going to cut them anyhow.”
“Huh?” Ash looked at his
friends. “Why?”
“Two things,” Tuxedo Mask explained,
“number one, that summoning trick is all these kids got, and two, with their
little friend around, they’re five walking liabilities.”
On the table there was a small
intercom. Goku pressed the button on it
and spoke into the receiver. “Cleanup!”
* * * * *
The doors swung open. Just outside there was a donut with pink
frosting and rainbow sprinkles sitting on a small paper plate. A hand wrapped in black leather reached for
it, and there was a loud scarfing down noise.
The figure that had eaten the donut walked into the room, looking around
questioningly. He was bent at the waist,
his eyes cast forward.
“Huh? The trail ends here?” he asked.
“Can I help you?” Goku asked. The man stammered and flailed around before
standing up straight.
“Um…” he stuttered. “Hello.”
“Can I help you?” Goku repeated.
“Well, I was following this trail of
donuts, and it kinda led me here…” He scratched his spiky blond hair.
“A trail of donuts?” Tuxedo Mask
asked. “We’re holding a hero recruitment
here. Unless you’re a hero yourself,
we’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“Really? Cool.
Well, I think I can help you find what you’re looking for.”
“Um…okay.” They started looking through the stacks of
files on the table. “Let’s see if we can
find your information here…uh…” They glanced over at the door, and he was gone. There was a sound like rapid bongo strikes as
the figure slowly rose up in front of the table. He wore a long, red coat, and had calm, green
eyes. At his full height, he stood at
almost eight feet tall, and was as skinny as a rail.
“I am known as Valentienez Alkeliina
Xiafax Sicidaboherez…” He paused. Goku
raised his hand and opened his mouth to speak.
“…Gumbigollia Blue Stravadori Talentrent Pierre Andri Carton Hymess
Ivanochii Baledues George Doitzel Kaiser III.
Don't be afraid to call.”
While he was ranting off his name,
Ash came across a particular file. “Oh,
here we are!” he declared, opening it up.
“You’re…Vash the Stampede.”
Vash the Stampede collapsed with a
loud crash and a loud wail. Ash leaned
over to look at him. Suddenly, he shot
up to his feet and grabbed Ash by the lapels of his jacket. He was so tall that as he grabbed the Pokémon
master, his feet were on the table. “I
HATE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME BY MY FULL NAME!” he cried.
“Here, let me see that,” Tuxedo Mask
said. Ash slid the file down to him
after he settled back in his seat.
“Hmmm…” He looked through the information. “Bodyguard…ace gunman…wanted for the
destruction of several cities?
$$60,000,000,000 bounty on your head?!”
“Well, in my defense, a lot of that
is based on reputation,” Vash answered.
“They just hear the name ‘Vash the Stampede’ and next thing you know
people are locking their doors, their windows, avoiding sunlight…I hate to
rehash an old cliché, but I don’t go looking for trouble; it…well, finds
me. These people don’t know anything
about me.”
“I’d imagine you’d have an even
greater reputation if you left any survivors,” Goku remarked.
“Survivors? I haven’t taken a single life. Ever.”
“…Seriously?”
“Oh, yes.” His tone became deeper,
more melodic. “Truth be told, I abhor
even the idea of killing, even suicide.
I don’t even like the sight of blood, actually. I can proudly say that I’ve never killed
another human being, and I never will.”
“Who says we’re gonna be fighting other
human beings?” Ash asked.
“The kid’s got a point,” Goku
said. “We’re cool with your
no-killing-people philosophy, but what if you find yourself up against…oh, I
don’t know, robots, undead, demons, stuff like that?”
“That?” Vash scoffed.
“Oh, that. Yeah, I have no
problems taking the likes of those down.”
He made a motion with his hand like he was shooting. “I’m an ace gunman and bodyguard, just like
it says.”
“So you’re a pretty good shot,
then?”
“Watch.” With his left hand, Vash pulled a one credit
coin from his pocket, and showed it to the three. He then flicked it into the air, drew his
pistol, and fired six shots rapidly. The
coin dropped back into his hand, and he tossed it to the heroes. The coin was shot so that it was left with
six slivers of metal, looking like a snowflake.
“Wow!” Ash breathed. “That’s awesome!”
“What else you got?” Tuxedo Mask
asked.
His left hand shifted, moving
downward and just under his wrist. A gun
barrel was where the inside of his arm should’ve been. “Whatever you do, don’t move!” he shouted.
“Huh?” the three heroes grunted.
Vash’s gun went off, spraying a hail
of gunfire at the three. Not a single
bullet hit, though, instead they hit the wall behind them. The spray of gunfire lasted about five
seconds, and when it ended, Vash motioned for them to turn around. They did, and saw an outline of them made
with bullet holes in the wall. There was
very little space in between each hole, and every detail, from Goku’s hair to
Tuxedo Mask’s hat to even Pikachu’s ears was intricately made.
“W-wow,” Tuxedo Mask breathed.
“I’m known for my bullets never
missing their mark,” Vash said.
“You weren’t aiming for us, were
you?” Ash asked.
“No, little man, I wasn’t. That was just a small display of what I’m
capable of—accuracy, precision, intricacy…but that, I’ll admit, was just a little bit of showboating.”
Goku thought for a moment. “Well it would seem that your reputation does
indeed precede you, Vash the Stampede.
My friends and I are pleased with what we’ve seen so far.”
“I promise you, I will not let you
down.”
“Thank you for your time.” With a slight bow, Vash exited the room.
“Well, we got a couple of…bad ones,”
Tuxedo Mask said, “but mostly everyone’s been pretty decent. It’s gonna be a tough call.”
“Tell me about it,” Goku said.
“Oh!
By the way…” Vash the Stampede reentered the room for just a slight
second. “I just want to remind you guys…”
“Reminds us of what?”
“That this world is made of…” He
thrust his right hand out, his index and middle fingers crossed. “…LOVE AND PEACE!”
TO
BE CONTINUED……………