Hi everybody, Duffy here.

This time we have a short story for you set in the world of Gigargun.

In a world of giant monsters, poachers and arms dealers are nearly indistinguishable from one another. These G.A.R.D. agents set their sights on the world’s largest traffickers of biological and alien weaponry, Ghul.

“Don’t bite down.”

Latex fingers worked their way to Howard’s lower back teeth. He felt pressure and a relieving click as the device was put in place. The woman removed her gloves and put them in a plastic bag that she tied closed.

“It’s not like I’m going to get far,” Howard said as he wiped the saliva from his lips, talking carefully to adjust to the feeling of the cap on his tooth.

“Yep,” the woman said dismissively as she worked on a laptop. The light from the screen illuminated her face in the back of the cramped, windowless van.

There was one other person in there with them: a large man sitting in the front seat who had yet to speak. He wore a heavy motorcycle jacket that looked like it had been scraped across the asphalt just short of ruining it completely. There were patches of armored plating showing through the battered leather. He had a guitar case sitting in the passenger seat with a seatbelt on it. Howard knew it likely held a rather large and nasty weapon. This was at the bottom of the list of things that kept him from running, though.

The woman had much more personality. Howard knew this because she had made it abundantly clear that she hated everything about him. As far as he could tell, she was not armed and didn’t have any apparent armor like her comrade. Being in this line of work, though, he suspected that she was the more dangerous of the two. As long as he had been in her custody they hadn’t gone far from the water.

She turned the laptop screen to Howard, causing him to squint as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light. It was an image of a GPS map with three points labeled with three names. Based on the placement of the dots, Howard could gather his handlers were Ishirō in the driver’s seat and Haley, whom he was talking to. He made note that his point was labeled with just his last name, Schreck.

“That cap is going to act as your tracker and communications device. It can detect vibrations in your skull and induce them in order for us to communicate with you. Everything that you say and is said in at least a level voice around you will be picked up and recorded here, on the laptop,” Haley said.

Howard was surprised G.A.R.D. had managed to get this much for the operation. He had always believed that the organization had been reduced to a small office and become defunct in the years following the war. Most incidents involving kaiju or other monsters could be handled by local authorities, so there was usually no need for an international agency like G.A.R.D. to get involved.

“I can barely talk with this thing, how am I supposed to make a deal like this?” Howard asked.

“You’ll figure something out,” Haley said, turning the laptop back towards herself. “Once you’ve secured the product we can use a solvent to remove the cap.”

“That’s another thing; you guys haven’t really told me what it is that you want me to secure…”

Haley looked at him in confusion for a moment before glancing over at Ishirō. The large man was making an effort not to look back at her.

“Hang on a second,” she said, returning to the computer.

Just a few hours ago he was in a holding cell in Brazil waiting for his trial. Howard was an arms dealer specializing in alien technology. He had been arrested for trying to sell an Aurian weapon to some loggers who were looking to kill a kaiju the locals were worshiping as a god. ‘Weapon’ is a bit of a stretch if he was to be honest with himself; it looked like a rotting log carved vaguely into the shape of a face. Likely more of a religious object than a technological one. But unless you were an expert you’d think any of the alien’s things could wreck a city. He once sold the equivalent of a portable toilet to some freedom fighters for over one million dollars U.S. They are still some of his best customers.

The deal was broken up by G.A.R.D. agents, though. There was a bit of a dust-up and the artifact caught fire. Howard tried to put it out and save his product, but the noxious fumes the artifact gave off caused him to lose consciousness.

He was likely going to spend a good deal of time in prison, so he agreed to make a deal with G.A.R.D. He hadn’t expected them to attempt a sting operation on Ghul, though. He dealt with the crime syndicate in the past. They were renowned for cornering the market on biological trafficking and sometime that entered into alien materials. Of course, they cornered the market because they consumed or eliminated all competition.

“Okay,” Haley said as she turned the laptop back around. The image on the screen was of a young Asian man in a blue blazer on top of a more casual white polo and pair of blue jeans. “We believe that a low-level executive from Ferro Robotics is trying to sell some sort of illegal biological agent. His name is Lin Chau. We know he’s been looking for a buyer, desperately, and has turned to Ghul for help. Our investigation has been mucked-up by legal complications. He’s a Chinese citizen and G.A.R.D. only has limited authority as a United Nations-sponsored organization. Ghul have an operative meeting with him today but put out a call for someone to appraise the product. We’re sending you to do that job. We need you to make contact, identify what he has and close the deal so that we can come in and make an arrest.”

“Right…,” Howard said. He processed the plan for a moment.

“I’m a specialist in Aurian technology. No way would Ghul need me to purchase anything biological. I wouldn’t be able to appraise it.”

“Are you backing out?” Ishirō said suddenly, causing Howard to jump in surprise. His tone was very stern and short. Howard felt like he was being accused of something.

“N-no, I just think it’s a bit of a snag is all. I want to keep you aware of any complications,” he stammered.

Ishirō led Howard away from the van. Haley remained in the back with the laptop. They were parked near water by some docks. It was hard to gauge their exact location as stacked shipping containers blocked the view of the landscape. Loader mechs—vehicles meant to load and unload ships—sat inactive like sleeping giants in the skyline.

He felt his jaw vibrate as Haley’s voice echoed in his head.

“Ishirō will provide backup for you while I stay here and make sure the recording is secure. If things get too hot, I’ll come and get you,” she said.

Howard shivered at the phantom voice, rubbing his jaw.

He and Ishirō walked in silence.

The trip from the Brazilian cell to here had been a hasty one, and no one had been kind enough to let him know where he was. Based on the warning signs that hung from the fences that Ishirō lead him past, Howard determined that he was in Hong Kong.

He and Ishirō worked their way through the maze of containers. The sun was still coming up over the horizon and did a poor job of helping Howard forget how much sleep he had lost in the trip over here. The only courtesy G.A.R.D. had offered him was getting his suit pressed. He was honestly grateful for that, though. Having a professional appearance boosted his confidence. He was rubbing his eyes when he almost collided with a stopped Ishirō.

The mountain of a man had stopped and opened his guitar case. Inside was a massive sword about the width and length of its owner’s leg. The interior of the case had been quickly carved out to make room for the Lance. Ishirō tossed it into a nearby dumpster.

“You’ll go on alone from here,” Ishirō said as he wrapped a leather strip to his hand, binding it to the Lance. “I’m going topside. You’re meeting Chau in the third warehouse down.”

Ishirō rolled up the sleeve on his other arm, revealing a complex gauntlet.

“You try to run, I’ll find you. You let Chau know we’re onto him, you won’t ever leave that building,” he said. “You understand?”

Howard nodded while stifling a yawn. It wasn’t the first time his life had been threatened. It was a common occurrence in this job. He knew enough to take it seriously, it’s just that the words start to lose meaning after hearing them enough times.

Ishirō lifted his gauntleted hand and pointed it at the roof of a nearby stack of containers. Without a sound, a line fired from the gauntlet and attached to top of the stack. It quickly retracted and brought Ishirō with it.

Howard stood there and stared as the man disappeared onto the containers.

“Huh,” Howard let out, mildly impressed.

As Howard walked the rest of the way to the meeting point, he could see Ishirō leaping between stacks. He wasn’t sure if this made him feel safer or less so.

He tried to put it out of his mind when doing the job, but he knew it was all unnatural. Not just in the sense that he bought and sold the pieces of aliens and monsters, but in how much was affected by what he did. He avoided the news because he didn’t want to see how many people he had inadvertently killed. He didn’t want to turn on the television and see how the Aurian blaster he had demonstrated not a day prior had been used to turn an embassy into a smoking crater.

The warehouse he was heading for didn’t stand out in any way. All windows at the ground level were plastered over with newspaper. A van not different from the one he came here in was parked out front. Howard knocked on the door. After a moment, a woman’s voice responded from the other side.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“I’m looking for a bite to eat,” he said, “preferably something that isn’t still kicking.”

The door opened. Howard recognized the voice’s owner.

The woman looked dumbfounded for a moment before brightening up and flashing a wide smile.

“Schreck? What are the odds?” the woman declared.

“Trish?” Howard said.

Trish Martinez was a mercenary and Ghul agent that Howard had worked with in the past. They often partnered for deals where Howard wasn’t sure if it would turn violent. She had a good reputation for doing bad things.

She stood the same height as him and always kept a bright outlook even in the direst situation. She looked like she was more ready for sightseeing than a black market deal in her jeans and turquoise windbreaker. The zipper for the jacket only went up to her sternum revealing a men’s undershirt underneath. Howard could see the butt of her rocket pistol sticking out from the shoulder holster she carried it in, making it was clear she was here for work.

Internally, he panicked. He didn’t know if Ghul knew he had been captured. Or worse, if Trish knew. Haley’s cursing over his communications suggested that G.A.R.D. hadn’t expected the Ghul agent to know him.

This definitely added a wrinkle to things.

“Ishirō, you ready?” Haley asked.

“I got a view inside the warehouse but it’s not the best,” the slayer responded. “Let’s see if he can save it.”

Howard did his best to put the voices out of his head to deal with the task at hand.

“It’s good to see you,” he managed to muster, putting on an amicable grin. “When was it we last met, Spain?”

“Portugal,” Trish said. “You had to sit in my lap for the getaway.”

“Of course. I’ve had less comfortable escapes,” he let out a soft chuckle and he thought he saw her blush. “I didn’t see Wreck-Star out there. You finally run that poor thing into the ground?”

“Don’t worry, Howie,” She said, putting her arm around him and leading him inside. “I got you covered.”

“Oh no,” Haley said over the comms. “Is she a pilot?”

“Mhmmm,” Howard answered, trying to pass it off as an agreement with Trish as she lead him into the building and closed the door.

The warehouse was all but bare. All that was in the room was Chau, sitting in a folding chair and just barely managing to pull is face away from his phone to acknowledge Howard approaching him. There was also a coffin-sized box that bore a radioactive sign on the other side of the building a good distance away from the table.

Chau sprang to his feet to shake Howard’s hand.

“Lin Chau, a pleasure,” The middle-manager said.

Howard took his hand and gave it a firm three shakes.

The corporate-climber had an air about him of someone whose business and pleasure is convincing people that he was their friend, they had that in common. Chau wore a similar outfit to one in his file-photo, just in a different color palette.

“Fritz Bergman,” Howard said. “The pleasure’s mine.”

Trish gave Chau a small nod to show approval. She and Howard both had the habit of using aliases to avoid any raw deals coming back to them. He had to make sure not to identify her anymore. He was almost glad to have her there. She had opportunities to stab him in the back before, but never took them.

They stood there for a while. Howard waited for Chau to make the first move and hopefully show what the big mystery was.

“So,” Howard said, fed up with waiting. “What do you have for me?”

Lin led him to the container. It looked like it had religious significance due to its isolation. At first glance it appeared to be a transportation case for fuel rods, the kind used to power most combat mechs. This one had been heavily modified. A hole had been cut into it where a thick wire was fed in. The hole and wire had been covered with a dark epoxy. The wire lead to a monitor affixed to the top of the container. The box gave off a noticeable heat.

“What do you see?” Haley asked impatiently over the comms. Howard thought Ishirō might answer, but remembered his view was obscured. He thought quickly how to phrase it.

“What’s in the box?” Howard asked.

Lin responded with a look that only children give when they’re dying to tell a secret. He moved over to the box and turned on the monitor and quickly stepped back. It came to life showing a grainy, night-vision view of the box’s interior. It was empty save for a small round object in the corner. It took a moment for Howard to realize that it was moving.

“What is that?” he asked.

“You know Chernoblob?” Chau said. He continued before Howard could respond. “When the Chernobyl nuclear reactor went into meltdown, the core somehow came to life. It consumed the metal and stone of the facility and became a massive, radioactive kaiju. The Russian military has to have a constant presence in the area to ensure that the creature never escapes. It isn’t too aggressive, but it gives off so much radiation that soldiers assigned to that contingent see it as a death sentence.”

Lin stared at Howard in anticipation. Either waiting for the info to sink in or to be asked why this information was relevant, Howard couldn’t tell. Trish was looking off in the distance, uninterested in a pitch she had likely been hearing all morning.

Lin grew tired of waiting and finally spit it out: “We made another one!”

“What?” Howard said in disbelief. He had to pause for a moment as he heard the same thing being said by Haley through his cap. If Ishirō was surprised by this information, he didn’t make it apparent.

“How?” Haley asked.

“How?” Howard parroted a moment later.

Lin started to pace and gesture with his hands.

“Ferr– my employers have been experimenting with new types of reactors to power mechs. One went into meltdown came to life!” he said, emphasizing the last word by throwing his arms out.

Howard couldn’t tell if the man was honestly excited or just trying to sell the pitch. Either way, the enthusiasm in his voice was unsettling. Howard had seen pictures growing up of those who survived radiation exposure. People were haunted by burns and tumors that lasted the rest of their short lives. Chernoblob was a nuclear furnace that has been burning strong since the 80’s. This creature, small as it is, could kill countless people if Ghul supplied it to one of its customers.

“That’s fantastic!” Howard said with a smile.

Haley piped in through his cap: “Howard, is that thing real? We need to know so we can proceed accordingly.”

“Yes,” he said. “I think we have the genuine article here.”

He nodded to Trish, who pulled out her phone to make a call. She listened to the person on the other end for a moment.

“Do it,” Trish said.

“Ishirō,” Haley said over the comms. “I got the recording. Get in there and secure—“

There was a loud crash. Howard resisted flinching, thinking it was through the comms. Chau jumped at the noise. This, coupled with the dust falling from the rafters, alerted Howard that it wasn’t just in his head.

He looked to the upper windows to see if he could spot Ishirō. Chau backed away from the table, his confidence had fallen away and was replaced by fear.

Trish didn’t seem to mind the commotion.

“Make sure no one can recognize the body,” She told the person on the phone as the ceiling above them began to crack. She ended the call and looked at the phone for a moment before speaking to Howard.

“You know,” she said, “you never told me you knew monsters as much as you knew alien stuff. When did that happen, Howie?”

Before Howard could answer, half of the building was torn away, sending a cloud of dust over the three of them and knocking the table over. A moment later the dust cleared to reveal the morning sky, and a loader mech towering above them.

From the rubble, Ishirō rose, leaning on his lance as he struggled to stand. Trish stowed her phone and drew her rocket pistol, pointing it at Ishirō.

The Cleef-53 rocket pistol fires low-yield explosive rounds. The weapon had been designed during the war as a service weapon for pilots whose mechs were incapacitated. To really hurt a kaiju with one, you had to fire a round right into an eye or other sensory organ. To be able to make such a shot though usually meant you had to get so close to a kaiju that you couldn’t expect to make it back alive. The weapon was considerably more effective against human targets.

Once, when on a deal with Trish in Switzerland, things went bad and Trish used the weapon on a small-timer who had sucker-punched Howard, running with the product and cash. The round caused the man’s back to cave in and chest to explode out in a cloud of pink mist. The shot must have killed him in an instant. This same weapon was currently pointing at an unaware Ishirō.

Howard grabbed at the pistol just as Trish fired, causing the shot to hit the ground not ten feet away. The concrete floor exploded and filled the air with smoke. Howard’s ears rung from the explosion. He rubbed his eyes and managed to catch a glimpse of Ishirō zipping up to the mech on his grappling hook.

Something large wrapped itself around Howard’s neck. He thrashed about in a panic. The thing emanated heat and threatened to bring him down with its weight. Had the destruction released the mini-Chernoblob?

“You rat on me, Schreck?” Trish said into his ear through gritted teeth. She squeezed his neck tighter between her arms like a human nutcracker. She pulled him backwards and off his feet, refusing to allow him to regain his balance. The battle outside kicked up the dust from the rubble and filled the inside of the warehouse.

Chau stared in awe at the battle between the mech and slayer. There wasn’t much to see through the dust besides the thrashing arms of the metal giant and Ishirō periodically swinging into sight. As the blood rushed to Howard’s ears, Ishirō’s level voice came in over the comms, politely asking Haley for assistance.

“Wait,” Howard gasped, “This was for Chau! I didn’t know you would—“

“That doesn’t make it better, Howie.” She said. “Hey, Chau!”

The middle manager broke out of his trance to have his fear of the fight outside be built upon by the sight of Trish crushing Howard’s windpipe.

“Our buddy here was looking to sell us out.” She motioned her head to the location of the mini-Chernoblob’s casket. “What say you we give him a closer look at the product?”

Lin stared at Trish for a moment before he reluctantly nodded and rushed to the case. Howard kicked and tried to escape Trish’s grasp as she slowly dragged him closer to the box.

“Now, with Ghul, loyalty is everything,” Trish rasped in Howard’s ear. “You screw us, you’re dead to us. And we eat our dead.”

She threw him face-first onto the lid, the force of the blow echoing through his sinuses. His dulled senses, the cloud of dust around them and the echoing crashes of the battle gave the world a dreamlike quality.

The latches on the case opened with a crisp CLACK, releasing a gust of warm air.

Trish thrust him forward into the box, getting his head close to the miniature kaiju. The thing smelled horrible, like burning metal.

He braced himself against the edge of the casket. He felt another set of arms, likely Chau’s latch onto him and try to force him into the case. He could only hold out so long before the two overpowered him.

A pair of arms let go followed by a heavy blow between his shoulder blades. He fell into the casket and felt the lid begin the close down on top of him. The creature sat inches from his face. Through the haze, he could see it futilely struggling against the side of the container to get away from him. Howard got to his knees and pushed back against the closing lid.

“I trusted you, Schreck,” Trish said with a fury that Howard had never known from her.

The battle outside picked up, filling the warehouse with billowing smoke. It was almost impossible to see. Light faded and the noises of the battle ceased as the lid closed.

I’m going to die, he thought. I’m going to die slowly and painfully in a box and no one will ever know.

Howard pushed up with all the strength he could muster. The latches gave way and he felt the lid fly off him. He climbed out of the container. The smoke made it impossible to see so he ran towards where he thought the hole in the wall was. He stumbled in his panic, colliding head-on with what felt like a steel beam. He regained his footing and felt a fist collide with him through the smoke. Then another. Then another.

He swung back wildly at his attacker. They collapsed and Howard followed on top of them. He felt whatever he was hitting grow softer with each strike. He could have escaped, but the only desire that went through is mind was hurt them for hurting me.

Soon, the rage died and the smoke cleared. He took in his surroundings.

He was high in the air. He could see above the warehouses and shipping containers for miles around. The warehouse he thought he was going to die in had its roof torn off. He could see nothing but rubble within it. Directly beneath him was a smoldering wreck of metal. It wasn’t until he saw the shreds fluorescent yellow coloring and remnants of arms and legs that were strewn about that he realized that this was the loader mech that Ishirō had been fighting. What happened to the pilot? He thought.

“Schreck! Schreck, where are you?” Ishirō shouted over the communicator. Howard looked around but couldn’t find him.

“Keep out of sight of that thing. We’re on our way,” Haley cut in.

Howard saw something rise out of the water and climb onto shore. The water slid off its back as it hunched down and hid among the maze of cargo containers.

“What’s happening—” Howard tried to ask, but was cut off by a screeching sound through his cap. He grabbed his jaw to stop the vibration. But something was wrong. He felt the pressure of his fingers on his jaw but no sensation, no warmth or softness of skin. He felt strange. He thought at first that it was just exhaustion but it was unlike anything he had felt before. It didn’t hurt, but it felt wrong.

The smoke continued to billow, but he could not find any flame that produced it. It was ever-present. He held his hand in front of his face, but it was cloaked in the stuff. He shook his hand to disperse it, only to find the appendage within to be nothing but bone. His perspective adjusted and he realized he wasn’t floating in the air. He was gigantic. He wasn’t even standing. He was kneeling on top of the wrecked mech.

A reptilian kaiju sprang up from the containers just inches from his face. Its black, oily skin was covered in splotches of red. Three fin-like protrusions stuck out from either side of its head that crackled with electricity. Its massive eyes stared into his. In the center of its forehead, hanging onto a boney protrusion for dear life, was Haley.

“H-help,” Howard said. “I don’t know—“

Before he could finish, there was a flash of light he blacked out.

After Hellbender, Haley’s kaiju, attacked him in Hong Kong, Howard returned to human form. When he woke up he was on a boat with Haley and Ishirō taking them back to the G.A.R.D. base. They stayed in the cargo hold with Hellbender to make sure Howard wasn’t up to something. Ishirō was on Howard’s side. Howard was grateful for that. He was pretty happy about not being shot with that rocket pistol.

They secured the mini-Chernoblob in a fuel rod case that they would bring to their superiors in hopes of finding out what to do with it.

A few days later, they got to the G.A.R.D. base off the coast of Oregon and Howard was put through questioning and a battery of tests. He complied eagerly. He was as concerned about turning into a giant smoking skeleton as everyone else. Apparently he was an Aesir, or at least that’s the closest they could come to classifying him as anything. Usually, Aesir transform into armored humanoids. It was unusual to go through such a drastic transformation as he did. Those cases would rarely change back.

The tests revealed that Howard had burning embers in his circulatory system. The weird kind that never stopped burning. The best guess as to how they got in him was from the smoke given off by the burning Aurian artifact in Brazil. They had fused throughout his body and reacted to adrenal secretions. This was discovered by setting up a test to trigger a transformation where they made it look like a broken down mech was going to fall on top of him in the base’s hangar. Howard questioned the precautions in that experiment.

That was almost a month ago. They hadn’t revealed what they were going to do with him. Howard was still in shock over the whole thing so he didn’t mind staying with people who didn’t seem phased.

Somebody had sprung for pizza from the mainland. It was from some small place that Howard didn’t recognize but was his new favorite restaurant because it was the first piece of food he had had in over a month that didn’t cut it close with its expiration date. He was tempted to go for seconds, but knew better than to push his luck. Most of the G.A.R.D. agents still didn’t like him for working with Ghul. Mostly the jockeys.

The G.A.R.D. mess hall reminded him of secondary school lunch room. All the agents sat in groups with their friends. They had recently let him out of solitary with Ishirō escorting him around the facility, who was surprisingly talkative since Hong Kong.

“I was in the Japanese Defense Force when I got started,” Ishirō said. “I wanted to be able to compete in the big leagues but couldn’t figure out how to pilot a mech. Didn’t have the hand-eye coordination for it.”

Howard was trying to avoid getting crumbs and grease on the tracksuit that they had given him after his suit had been destroyed in Hong Kong. It was too big for him and he stepped on the hem of the pants when he walked. He wasn’t sure who the original owner was and didn’t want to know.

“What lead you to running at giants with a sword, then?” Howard asked.

“He signed up for training.” Haley said as she sat down with her lunch next to Howard. “Sorry, dude, but I’ve sat through that story like, a million times,” She said to Ishirō before giving Howard a casual nod.

She was there for Ishirō but started to treat Howard like a person after they brought him to G.A.R.D. base. Howard kind of held it against her that her kaiju had destroyed his suit with its attack, but he let it go when he saw a photo of himself transformed. The words “living nightmare” had been thrown around many times in the past month.

Haley wasn’t alone. An older man, balding and winkled from stress, but with a youthful energy about him, sat across from Howard with a plate of pizza and a manila folder.

“Hi, Howard? I’m Commander Nick Ziering. I’m head of field operations here with the G.A.R.D. How are you liking your stay?” The man said while offering his hand to Howard. Howard shook it firmly three times.

“Um… fine, I guess?” Howard said.

“So I hear you got an interesting condition,” Nick laughed as he looked through the folder. “Lets see…caustic smoke…loss of soft tissue…exposure of skeletal structure…prone to enragement—that’s not good—here we go: ‘responsive and coherent while transformed.’ That’s great news!”

“I’m sorry?” Howard said.

Haley laughed.

“Now, I want to be perfectly clear here: you’re still in our custody in a legal sense,” Nick said as he took a bite of his pizza. “You’re an international criminal with ties to dealers of weapons of mass destruction, after all.”

It kind of hurt Howard when people said that out loud.

“So, you kno—,” Nick tried to talk with his mouth full and began to choke, erupting into a coughing fit.

Ishirō slapped Nick’s back multiple times until the old man recovered. He waved Ishirō off and put down his pizza. He focused on Howard.

“You know you really don’t have many options,” he said. “But we have the best: we keep you out of jail, and you come work for G.A.R.D.”

Howard was confused. Most people in this room wouldn’t mind seeing him crushed underfoot. What’s more, the amount of professionalism he’d seen working with them so far had been the equivalent of a student group project. The other day, a shirtless man carrying around a jagged piece of bone followed him around and spoke a language Howard was certain he made up; he couldn’t’ get any sleep another night because one of the mechs in the hangar kept blasting Japanese pop songs until someone—or something—smashed it; even now, over Nick’s shoulder, he could see a fuzzy jumping spider the size of a corgi trying to escape the arms of its owner, a young man who was desperately trying to look cooler than he actually was, to get to the remaining pizza.

“What are those other options?” Howard asked as non-desperately as he could.

“You are taken before an international court and tried for dealing in alien weaponry,” Nick said as he took smaller bites of his pizza. “Turns out there’s a file on a ‘Mr. Bergman’ who fits your description.”

The spider had now escaped its owner’s grasp and was trying to cram as much pizza into its weird mouth-bits as it could. Its owner was trying to pick it up without getting cheese and grease all over his expensive-looking jacket.

“On top of that, we’re pretty sure you killed that Chau guy with your tantrum—,” Haley said.

“And the pilot of the loader,” Ishirō cut in.

“—And the loader pilot,” Haley acknowledged, “but those were life-and-death things so it’s pretty much a drop in the bucket all said. And we didn’t find the body of that mech pilot girlfriend you betrayed, so there’s that.”

“And you’re a living weapon.” Nick cut in, now smiling like a goon. “That also complicates things.”

“Can’t your scientists get this stuff out of me?” Howard asked. “I know Aesir have been de-powered before!”

“Yeeeeaaaahhh…” Nick said. The smile faded. “This isn’t like taking out an appendix, kid. IF we were able to learn exactly how your powers work, and IF we were able to gather a team of scientists skilled enough to pull this stuff out of you, it would more than likely leave some permanent side effects. You could lose limbs, organs, suffer nerve damage, or worse.”

Howard felt his stomach drop like he was in a plane that just started a dive. All eyes were on him. Among the people at the table, anyway. Everyone else was laughing at the guy in the jacket as he tried to chase down his pet giant spider which was now covered in cheese and running around. Howard took a deep breath.

“I’m not a great fighter,” he said.

“I’ll sign you up for some classes with Diana,” Nick said.

“You’re probably the best person here at talking right,” said Haley. She had started to notice the spider.

“What’s my compensation?” Howard asked.

“I think I mentioned the no-prison thing?” Nick said.

“You did,” piped in Ishirō, who seemed very engaged in getting Howard to join.

“You also get free room and board here on the base, a yearly salary…” Nick was counting on his fingers. “Really, most people are sold on being able to travel the world and punch robots and stuff.”

Howard was used to traveling, to not having roots. He stayed in the ritziest and most exotic hotels imaginable. He met powerful men and women and earned their trust more times that he could count. He was good at his job. And every day he would try as hard as he could to forget that.

The guy had managed to catch his spider, which was now doing something to his face that looked like a sign of affection. People started to clap. Haley laughed. Ishirō turned to see what the commotion was.

“Okay,” Howard said. “Sure. I’m in. But you are going to have to get me a new suit.”

“I’ve had harder requests,” Nick said.

Ishirō smiled.

Howard sat in silence for a moment.

“Do you want to recruit me because you’re desperate for agents or because you think I’ll be a good addition?”

Nick got up, gathered his things to leave and said, “I’m looking forward to finding out.”

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