hapter 40
July 7th, 2014
Sam Mokoa
"Kona TV, Special Report!" In a small office, a TV shone, the Kona TV symbol shining in a moving graphic before solidifying into the faces of a pair of news anchors. They were unsmiling as the camera moved in on them.
"Good evening. I'm Bob Madara," said the male anchor.
"And I'm Tali Vanomandy," said the female anchor.
"We're continuing our special report on the aftermath of the attack on Pearl Harbor," the woman almost snarled the words, her professionalism fading a bit. "Killer Frost, one of the perpetrators of the attack, is still in custody, and is awaiting the decision on where her trial will take place, with many advocating she face justice on Hawaiian soil, while others argue the mainland has better resources to contain and try a superhuman."
"The debate is ongoing," the man said. "In the meantime, many of the Silicon Dragons captured in the aftermath of the attack have been imprisoned. Our experts say their trials will take some time to go through due to the sheer number of men and women arrested, with many calling them out as terrorists."
"Cleanup in the aftermath of the attack is also ongoing," the woman continued. "The ice left in the remains of the attack has long since melted, leaving damage totalling in the millions and rising even further. The USS Arizona Memorial sustained much of the damage, while the USS Missouri sank into the harbor. Donations from around the country have already begun to pour in to support the rebuilding and injured."
"No matter the monetary damage however, with over a dozen fatalities including soldiers, civilians and police it's the lives lost of those attacked by the Dragons are far more important. In the wake of the attack, Rocket Unlimited was the first company to offer aid to those in need after the attack, putting forth millions in rebuilding costs, funerals, and offering their revolutionary medicines to those injured free of charge."
"And yet, even with philanthropists like Giovanni Giovanni," the woman stumbled over the name but persevered. "The damage will take some time to recover, and the losses will be felt for some time."
"Other cities in the United States faced similar attacks by ice-themed villains the same day Killer Frost did. Mr. Freeze in Gotham, Captain Cold in Central City, and Icicle Junior in Star City, however, none have done the level of damage that Killer Frost and the Silicon Dragons have," the man leaned forward just a bit, distaste appearing past the veneer of professionalism. "No word yet on why this attack was so different, though speculation has been rampant. Social media is filling with theories debating if this was part of a larger coordinated ice villain plot, and if so why the Pearl Harbor battle was so destructive. "
"Many blame Kahu, claiming that his war with the Silicon Dragons caused them to escalate beyond the norm, with some requesting police step up efforts to arrest him as well as the Dragons, while others have called for Sam Mokoa, the infamous FBI Agent who joined the battle against the Dragons, to begin a partnership with the-"
Sam shut off the TV. He placed the remote down and leaned back. Then he grabbed his phone and took a look at it.
A single text message rested there. From Kahu Kiaʻi. All it said was that he was going to call in five minutes. That was around four minutes ago.
The phone rang. Sam answered. "Punctual."
"I try to be," Kahu said simply. "Working together is going to be a tough prospect isn't it?"
"You saw the news."
"I saw the news."
"Then yes. We'll have to keep things close to the chest. You promise to end your vigilantism once we take them down?"
"I'll apply to the Police Academy the day after, work on my Micheal Winslow act-"
"Fine, save your sarcasm for later. You patrol every night?"
"When I'm not working on something else."
"We'll coordinate then. The Dragons may have had more numbers than we thought, but this recent attack must have depleted them a bit. We'll hit them from every side. You and your band take some targets, we'll take others. There is something else… Have you heard about the vigilante copying you?"
"You did mention something about that. But no, I hadn't heard about that," Kahu sounded confused.
"He's been beating the hell out of criminals across the island. Witnesses say he wears a mask. I thought it was you, but he wears a… smiley mask."
"You serious?"
"As a heart attack. It's not some children's fun look. He looks like a goddamn demon. I've seen him get shot full on by an Uzi and break the arms of the woman who did it."
Silence on the other end. Sam continued. "I'm working on tracking him. But I think I'm going to leave that to you," Sam growled, just a bit angered at the prospect.
"Doesn't seem your style."
"I catch him, I need to arrest him. I'm considering another option. This guy isn't just a vigilante. We're talking someone who hates criminals. He's been taking down operations and leaving… I don't want to say carnage. Nobody is dead. But they'll spend more time in the hospital than they will in jail."
"You want me to recruit this guy!?"
"No. Legally, I don't know you. I don't know what you're doing. I am currently doing everything in my power to bring that man in."
"...I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"I can tell you hate this. A lot. I don't want to say I understand, but I know you have a code of honor that you're having to push aside. Much more than-"
"Enough. I'd have quit this job if I wanted your sympathies."
A long sigh came from the other end. "Fine. Send me what you got. I'll start hunting down this guy. I can't promise he'll want anything to do with me. Whoever he is. What do you know about him?"
"Some kind of enhanced durability. Strength. Wears a mask and biker gear. Doesn't talk, but we've caught footage of a recording device playing voice lines for him. Demented stuff. He's about 6 feet."
"Where's he operating?"
"Used to be Waianae. He pops up at random all over Hawaii, but that's where most sightings took place. Lately though-"
"Honolulu."
"Everything is converging there for some reason," Sam said bitterly.
"I'll find him."
"One last thing. A rumor. Something my guy Donald found out."
"Donald?"
"My mythical expert. He heard something… You ever hear about the Night Marchers?"
"No?"
"I suggest you look it up. Because he says there are some," Sam struggled to find the words. Goddamnit, he wasn't made for this magic bullshit. "Portents? Look, he slaughtered a chicken and it told him that a Night Marcher was walking the land."
"What's that mean?"
"You think I know anything about this stuff? A Night Marcher walks the land. Some kind of ghost or spirit… thing. And it's been following the same path as this guy."
"...I might have someone for this then."
"You want me to have Donald reach out?"
"Maybe. Let my girl do her thing first."
Mimikyu
While she was sewing together a new mask for Tyrunt, Master knocked on her door.
Mimikyu looked up at him curiously from her workbench. "Mimikyu?"
At her question, Master smiled. "Hey girl. I need you to do something for me. Might need to go out on your own a few times. You up for that?"
"Mimi!" she hopped up and down excitedly.
"Good… I think we're gonna need you to go ghost hunting."
"Kyu?"
Oh my. Maybe it was a new friend!
Anita Fite
At the same time Mimikyu was getting the details on her new assignment, Anita Fite was watching her father hang up the phone. She was at the dining table of their new home in Hawaii, reading a textbook, but she ignored it now to watch him at the counter where a landline phone rested. The middle-aged man sighed, sagging slightly.
"You okay, dad?"
Donald smiled, glancing at her before looking at the refrigerator, where he'd placed some chicken to marinate before the phone call. "Yeah. Yeah, just… Sam has me looking into something. But I'm having trouble with it."
"What is it? Maybe I can help?"
Donald chuckled. "Nope. You have homework."
"I finished my homework."
"Then you have chores."
"What, you want me to wipe up imaginary dust?"
"Sarcasm-"
"'-is the refuge of the childish and insecure', I know."
"If you know, then follow that adage, sweetie."
Anita rolled her eyes, but still eyed her father. "What's wrong, dad? Really?"
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. Then he ran his fingers across his bald head before moving them through his beard. "Okay. Anita. You remember our lessons about Hawaiian spirits?"
"I've been looking them up again."
"Good girl. Well. Night Marchers are one of those spirits. Tell me about them."
It was something they often did. Little tests to make sure she was listening. Anita thought carefully. "Warrior spirits, right?"
"Partial answers, sweetie."
"Hold on, I'm thinking!" Anita furrowed her brow. Night Marchers… "Their real name is huaka'i pō. They are the vanguard for sacred royalty. Spirits of ancient warriors who come from ancient Hawaiian battlegrounds. They move in darkness. And any mortals who see them will die if they aren't related to them."
"Weaknesses?"
"Living cordyline fruticosa!"
"And?"
"I think they often travel with Hi'iaka? The goddess of sorcery."
"Good… now I'm going to say something. This is something different," her father rubbed his eyes. "It is a Night Marcher. The old spirits call to it. But it isn't acting the way my texts say. It's leaving people alive. Targeting specific people and leaving others untouched. It has no drums to call to it, but still uses sound with it's actions. And it's in a tangible form. It's as if… it's been changed."
"Maybe it has?" Anita asked. When her father simply crossed his arms, she knew he was asking her to continue her line of thinking. "Well… you told me magic is about the mental. The thoughts that are attached to action. Maybe the reason it's acting that way is because of a combination of things. The spirit that made it, the battleground it came from, and the world around it when it appeared?"
"Night Marchers acted the same way for centuries."
"The world was the same for centuries," Anita pointed out. "But the closer we come to the modern day, the faster things change. Maybe the Night Marcher only began to match its environment because-"
"Because its environment was different," David snapped to his feet. "I think I can-Anita, I'll be back tomorrow!"
He rushed to his office, grabbing a bag then running back to kiss her cheek.
"Dad!?"
"Tomorrow! Thank you sweetie!"
Her dad rushed out, pulling out his phone. "Sam! I might have something. It'll just take a bit."
Anita frowned, before sitting down. Her father slammed the door behind him, and the sound of the car rushing off filled the air before fading away. Then she saw a folder on the floor.
"Yooo. Now what is that?" Anita hopped off her seat and grabbed the folder. Inside the manilla confines were a series of notes in her dad's almost mechanical handwriting. He really was anal about his penmanship…
"First spotted in Waianae… Huh."
Anita moved to her room and looked up the dates around it's first appearance on her computer. There was an obituary listed about a week after the appearance… No. A list.
A lot of people seemed to die there. She thought Hawaii was all sunshine and beaches. But then, a lot of places were like that. Tourists didn't visit dangerous places. Well, normal ones.
There had been a small gang there that had been wiped out… wiped out. In a warehouse. Lots of bullets there, lots of death. Nobody found the other gang but… A battle had happened.
She sat back, thinking. Royalty. That was one of the things Night Marchers needed. So maybe the place the warehouse was sat had been tied to royalty somehow? An ancient battle ground. New blood spilled. But what about the rest of it-
She jumped forward again, typing. Kahu Kiaʻi's first outing… and it had nothing to do with it. His first appearance and the battle had been days apart. Too far for him to have anything to do with it.
"Damnit, I really thought maybe… huh," she stroked her chin thoughtfully. Then she leaned back, tugging at one of her dreadlocks. "Well… maybe it's nothing… I should wait and tell dad…"
Thirty minutes later, the door to the Fite household slammed shut. The sound of a motorcycle starting up filled the air, and a helmeted figure rushed out into the streets.
Kahu Kiaʻi/Mahmoud Schahed
"Mimikyu, you don't have to-"
"Kyu!" a belligerent and adorable voice responded as she hopped up to Alakazam. We were in my base and my Fairy-Ghost girl had decided to get a head start on her mission.
He gave me a look. "If it is what she wants-"
"Al," he looked a bit annoyed at the nickname but gave a huff when I gave him a look and stepped back.
"Mimikyu," I kneeled down and held out a hand. I took a hold of one of her shadow tentacles when she held it out to me. "If you want to do this, then make sure you stay safe. Al…akazam, will be in telepathic range of you."
"If I sense anything that requires another hand to aid you, I will give you a bit of a… helpful hand," Alakazam said smugly. Then he looked at me. "Is this 'Al' thing going to keep happening?"
"Better than 'Zam'."
"Ugh," my alien-looking psychic-type was not impressed.
"Fine. Mimikyu. Go find our mysterious stranger's origins. If you find him, then I'll join you. Got it?"
"Kyu, Mimikyu!" a pair of shadows hugged around me, a face under her Pikachu mask pressing to my chest. I smiled, rubbing her back before she let go.
"Also, going old school?" I asked, noting her original Pikachu suit, rather the various superhero ones she wore often these days.
"Mimikyu!"
"Yeah, guess the classics never go out of style… stay safe. Okay?"
"Kyu!"
Alakazam and her stepped away from me. Then, with a shift of light, they disappeared.
"...what do I do now?"
Mudkip was out with Grace. Tyrunt and Gurdurr were building underneath the base. Magcargo was visiting Pele (what a sentence that was).
For the first time in a while, I was sans Pokemon. I didn't have an appointment with anyone, all my friends were doing other things, I'd done my workout as Amos directed, the kitchen had food so I didn't need to buy groceries.
I snapped to my feet, blinking.
"I… have a free day."
What the hell do people do with free time?
"I guess I should go out?"
Silence.
"I'm talking to myself."
More silence.
I left the base and headed out on the town.
Across the Big Island, the major players made their moves. Sam and Donald spoke to each other about ghosts and spirits. Mimikyu and Alakazam appeared in Waianae in a flash of light. A teenager rode her motorcycle along the highway.
And in a dark room, a man sat at a desk. He was bare-chested, revealing rippling muscle covered in dozens of scars, fresh wounds, and a simple tattoo on his right pectoral, scarred over with an old burn wound, though the letters 'USM' could be read.
He lifted a stapler and brought it to a fresh cut on his left arm. It looked like a knife slash. He stapled it once, then again and again. He never flinched. Once done, he wrapped it in bandages, the same kind of rough cloth that covered portions of his face, stomach, and bare legs. He tapped a hefty-looking MP3 player that looked like black brick with buttons resting at the same desk.
"The doctor is in the house," the walkman said cheerily.
He rose up and walked over to a mannequin in the corner. The mannequin was womanly in shape, with a mask resting on it. When he removed it, the face beneath had been covered with paint and slash marks.
Piece by piece, he removed the clothes from the mannequin and put it on. Tough biker pants that had been heavily used, a white shirt followed by a black biker jacket. His movements were steady. Calm. Almost eerily mechanical. He placed a black ski mask on.
"Preparation, is the essence of-" the cheery female voice began before another voice cut in, a deep and booming one. "BRUTALITY."
He took the mask. It was mostly yellow, pitted with small marks, the paint on it rough. A pair of black mesh eye holes in it. A large smile rested across the front of it, made from white scales of some sort glued across its surface. As he placed the mask on, the recorder played on.
The sound of drums boomed out from the modified device. It seemed to echo in the room, a rhythmic 'boom, boom, boom', haunting the air.
Chill followed the man in his wake. He took a hold of the device, placed on a pair of thick gloves with old blood streaked across the knuckles.
And the sound of drums followed in his wake as he marched into the night.
Author's Note: So yeah. This is an OC. But I based him on a combination of different things, he's a big fucking super dude, and he's gonna be fun.
Basically, he's a ghost-powered Jacket from Payday 2.
My next chapter will be up on once it's done, but I'll be working on Koopa first since it's been a while since I updated that. In the meantime, I'm doing work on an original fic of mine, and POSSIBLY posting the first draft on this site. No idea if people will like it, but it's worth a shot.