Dianetics Another Day Chapter 9
Dianetics Another Day
Chapter 9: Party at the Shioujis' II: There Actually is a Party This Time
Background music played. Bubbles filled the air. Excel began to float off of the ground, and ethereal letters appeared in the mist:
[TODAY'S COSTUME PROVIDED BY NAOKO TAKEUCHI]
As Excel's clothes faded into glittery obscurity and new ones began covering the essential parts of her body, a shot rang out. She flopped backwards and the transformation atmosphere faded away softly, as though embarrassed. All eyes turned to Misaki.
For her own part, Misaki also looked a touch embarrassed. "Honestly, I'm not sure what came over me... but you can't tell me that none of you have ever watched that show and thought about doing that."
"You shot me!" Excel cried, leaping back to her feet.
Misaki turned defensive. "Not fatally."
Excel yanked off her fashionable new senshi boot and pitched it at her head. "YOU SHOT ME! AND YOU!" She turned to Sumiyoshi.
Me? He glanced around to make sure no one was standing behind him.
"LEARN TO TALK LIKE A NORMAL PERSON! AND YOU!" Back to Watanabe. "You love her, right?"
"Yes!"
"You'd do anything for her!"
"Yes!"
"If she told you to kill, you'd kill. If she told you to die, you'd die. If she told you to spontaneously combust, you'd spontaneously combust!"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
Excel nodded, bringing her arms around in the familiar pose. "But that isn't love... love isn't that! I know, because..." She wavered slightly, but recovered. "Because my love is unrequited, too! DIANETICS SOUL SPARKLING!"
Watanabe tasted the rainbow. He didn't dissolve in the way of magical girl baddies, but he did fall over, causing his teammates some concern.
"Watanabe-kun!"
Are ye all right?
"His vitals are stable," said Shiouji over the intercom. "Thank God; if I had to build another one, I might just kill myself."
Excel moved neither to finish him off nor to escape. Completely preoccupied with this uncomfortable self-revelation, she looked as though she had swallowed a bug. "That's right... I can't believe I had forgotten. Lord Il Palazzo could never..."
She went flying again, this time a thin stream of blood ribboning from her head as she flopped to the ground.
Sumiyoshi cringed. That was a bit harsh.
Misaki strolled over and nudged her with one foot. "I just threw her boot back at her... this suit really does enhance strength, doesn't it?" Shiouji didn't say anything, but she could feel his smirk. "Sumiyoshi-kun, did you happen to see that boot?"
Can't say so.
She picked it up. "Take a look at this - it's where I shot her."
The boot had almost entirely disintegrated. Indeed, what little remained of it was charred black.
I still can't believe you actually shot her.
"Remove Iwata-kun's idiocy from the party, and the rest of him are forced to meet his quota," she said, as though it were any sort of excuse whatsoever. "The point is, if you look at her leg, she's fine. It didn't wing her; it went right through her."
What does that mean?
"No idea. But it reminds you of Superman, doesn't it? Bullets bounce right off, but he ducks if you throw the gun."
I'm glad you didn't throw the gun, Matsuya.
"I'm not suicidal."
They crouched over Watanabe.
Out cold.
"Yeah. You might have to give him mouth-to-mouth."
Watanabe sat up like a bolt.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three," he replied (to everyone's surprise) correctly.
Are you--
"Fine!" he answered, sounding cheerful enough that his coworkers exchanged a nervous glance. "Can we go home now?"
----------------
Whatever note of triumph the returning members of Daitenzin possessed disappeared instantly upon returning to the base. Kabapu smoked like a fiend (it may as well have been from the ears), and Momochi and Shiouji were glued to their laptops. Every monitor in the room displayed a different news report.
"America is down," Momochi said.
"Good gravy, already? Didn't we just have their president on the phone an hour ago?" Kabapu groaned. "Well, never mind that; is Ms. Excel ready?"
"They're still prepping interrogation room 3, but the doctor is already here."
"What are you planning on doing to her?" Misaki asked. "And when you say that America is 'down'..."
"Ms. Momochi will explain. Take a lunch break while you still can, because we're going into mandatory overtime," announced Kabapu on his way out the door.
"I'm not really at liberty to discuss the relationship between Doctor Kabapu and Ms. Excel," said Momochi, "But as for America, the concentrated war effort lasted about forty-five minutes." She turned all of the monitors to one news report, and rewound it a bit.
On the screens, the professional and stoic Excel spoke: "It'd be dishonest to say that we're not a little disappointed at the reception you've given us, but we understand that you might feel threatened by our superiority. As a symbol of goodwill, we have only reciprocated attacks against your capital cities and other centers of significant government activity. We would ask that you please elect a new set of representatives available to finalize the negotiations when we return from Europe."
Momochi killed the display. "No news on Europe yet. I suspect we'll know by the end of the day."
"There's something about that woman," muttered Shiouji.
"She used to live in our apartment building," Misaki pointed out helpfully.
"Eureka!" He snapped his fingers. "It's the way she moves. Watch her blink. There's an art to that. If you want to make a robot look natural, it has to move naturally. Otherwise, she'd just get trapped in that uncanny valley."
"It looks pretty natural to me," noted Misaki.
"Of course it does." He sparkled with triumph. "Because I programmed it. That's my robot."
---------
Excel was tired of unfamiliar ceilings. All of this being knocked out and abducted got under her skin, too. Not to mention that missing Lord Il Palazzo made her so crazy her stomach tied into knots. Nevertheless, none of this pissed her off as much as the big green mustache hovering over her head.
"Good afternoon," said Kabapu.
She would have punched it him had she not been strapped down to the table.
"I'm sorry we had to do it this way," he said, and whether to his credit or detriment, he honestly did sound sorry. "I never should've let you go after what Il Palazzo did to you."
"What Lord Il Palazzo did to me? Who's the one who has me strapped to a table, you lunatic?" She thrashed against her bonds, worked up into an indignant rage. "Don't pretend like you're not an evil, bureaucratic, cigar-smoking politician! Don't look me in the eye and talk like you're not the cancer killing this world! I'll sooner die than do anything that would help you fight against Lord Il Palazzo, so go ahead! Torture me all you want! Cut me, burn me, take me water... board... ing..."
Kabapu followed her horrified expression to where it had landed - a syringe brought in by the nurse. "It'll barely sting. We're not going to torture you."
Excel squeezed her eyes shut, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her whispered prayer was only barely loud enough for Kabapu to hear it. "Help me, Lord Il Palazzo, they're going to take my kidneys..."
"All we're going to do is hypnotize you. Past-life regression therapy."
"Help me, Lord Il Palazzo, help me, Lord Il Palazzo..."
Kabapu sighed. "The needle is gone, by the way. You can open your eyes."
Excel hesitantly opened one eye, and when she found what he said to be true, glared at him viciously. "Past-life regression therapy, are you freaking kidding? Brainwashing me into thinking I'm Cleopatra isn't going to get you anywhere!"
"Lovely woman, Cleopatra." Kabapu looked wistful. "But she wasn't you. I checked. Now, try to relax." He reached out to give her a reassuring pat but, seeing the look in her eyes, reconsidered and retracted his hand. "I'll be leaving now. Best not to have too many people in the room when the machine goes off, but I'll be guiding you from the control room."
As he left, a circle of blinding light flicked on above her. "Um... about this machine..." She heard the click of a deadbolt. "How about just one kidney? Can we negotiate? H-hey!" She wriggled against her restraints and made a few bitter mental notes about facial hair regulations to be implemented under Lord Il Palazzo's rule.
The lights began to pulsate. Excel squirmed desperately, knowing that this was a bad, bad situation. If this guy broke into her head, any number of ACROSS secrets would come spilling out. She suddenly understood why she was so often kept out of the loop... but now was not the time to be humble! She had to resist this intrusion of her mind with every last iota of willpower. She had to fight, because if she didn't--
"Sleep," said Kabapu.
She slept.
---------
Shiouji wasn't looking forward to a long night of reconstructing Iwata while the world collapsed around them. He didn't think that the day could get worse until he arrived home to find his laboratory looking like a frat house. Complicating the situation was the fact that the party-goers were all clearly American, as portrayed by their blond hair, loud English, and cowboy hats.
Now, Shiouji had never put his full genius capacity into learning English (as any PEACH will tell you), but he knew enough to ask where his mother was, and likewise he knew enough to understand, "By the keg."
And indeed she was, a mug in one hand and a movie star in the other. "Gojyoooou, darling, welcome hoooome!" she barked out in slurred English. "I was juuuusht telling Tom about yoooou!"
Shiouji snapped back in disgruntled Japanese. "What's going on? What are all these people doing here? Were you in Illinois or Hollywood?"
"I took a road trip every now and then," she replied cheerily. "Why don't you mingle a little? I'll bet if you ask nicely, Beck will play a ssshong for you~"
"I don't want Beck to play a song for me. I don't want to come home to a big American party! Why are these people in our house?"
Sighing, Miwa excused herself from the crowd and pulled her son aside. "I'm sorry, Gojyou-chan, but they gave me such a warm welcome when I was in their country, and I thought I'd return the favor."
"That doesn't explain why they're here to begin with! I have to fix Iwata tonight, so get rid of these people!"
"Your wiiiiish is my command. I'll take them back to the ship." Before he could demand clarification, she approached the crowd again, shouting out in English. "Okay, everyone! It's past my son's bedtime, so the party's over! Pack up and let's head to the Freewindsh, everybody!"
"Mother... are you ever going to tell me what's going on?"
"At this rate, maybe not. Mama'sh gonna protect you as long as she can!" she cried, pulling him to her chest.
"MOTHER, THIS IS SERIOUS," he sputtered pitifully.
"No one's more sherial than me! Whatever I might do, you're still my shon, and I love you more than anything. Don't forget that, okay?" She released him, and went back to her task of herding celebrities. She only stopped once more to cry, "Farewell, Gojyou-chan!"
He waved irritably before tromping off to his room. Honestly, she could be such a nuisance.
It would be many, many hours before it occurred to him that she might not be coming back.
Chapter 9: Party at the Shioujis' II: There Actually is a Party This Time
Background music played. Bubbles filled the air. Excel began to float off of the ground, and ethereal letters appeared in the mist:
[TODAY'S COSTUME PROVIDED BY NAOKO TAKEUCHI]
As Excel's clothes faded into glittery obscurity and new ones began covering the essential parts of her body, a shot rang out. She flopped backwards and the transformation atmosphere faded away softly, as though embarrassed. All eyes turned to Misaki.
For her own part, Misaki also looked a touch embarrassed. "Honestly, I'm not sure what came over me... but you can't tell me that none of you have ever watched that show and thought about doing that."
"You shot me!" Excel cried, leaping back to her feet.
Misaki turned defensive. "Not fatally."
Excel yanked off her fashionable new senshi boot and pitched it at her head. "YOU SHOT ME! AND YOU!" She turned to Sumiyoshi.
Me? He glanced around to make sure no one was standing behind him.
"LEARN TO TALK LIKE A NORMAL PERSON! AND YOU!" Back to Watanabe. "You love her, right?"
"Yes!"
"You'd do anything for her!"
"Yes!"
"If she told you to kill, you'd kill. If she told you to die, you'd die. If she told you to spontaneously combust, you'd spontaneously combust!"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
Excel nodded, bringing her arms around in the familiar pose. "But that isn't love... love isn't that! I know, because..." She wavered slightly, but recovered. "Because my love is unrequited, too! DIANETICS SOUL SPARKLING!"
Watanabe tasted the rainbow. He didn't dissolve in the way of magical girl baddies, but he did fall over, causing his teammates some concern.
"Watanabe-kun!"
Are ye all right?
"His vitals are stable," said Shiouji over the intercom. "Thank God; if I had to build another one, I might just kill myself."
Excel moved neither to finish him off nor to escape. Completely preoccupied with this uncomfortable self-revelation, she looked as though she had swallowed a bug. "That's right... I can't believe I had forgotten. Lord Il Palazzo could never..."
She went flying again, this time a thin stream of blood ribboning from her head as she flopped to the ground.
Sumiyoshi cringed. That was a bit harsh.
Misaki strolled over and nudged her with one foot. "I just threw her boot back at her... this suit really does enhance strength, doesn't it?" Shiouji didn't say anything, but she could feel his smirk. "Sumiyoshi-kun, did you happen to see that boot?"
Can't say so.
She picked it up. "Take a look at this - it's where I shot her."
The boot had almost entirely disintegrated. Indeed, what little remained of it was charred black.
I still can't believe you actually shot her.
"Remove Iwata-kun's idiocy from the party, and the rest of him are forced to meet his quota," she said, as though it were any sort of excuse whatsoever. "The point is, if you look at her leg, she's fine. It didn't wing her; it went right through her."
What does that mean?
"No idea. But it reminds you of Superman, doesn't it? Bullets bounce right off, but he ducks if you throw the gun."
I'm glad you didn't throw the gun, Matsuya.
"I'm not suicidal."
They crouched over Watanabe.
Out cold.
"Yeah. You might have to give him mouth-to-mouth."
Watanabe sat up like a bolt.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three," he replied (to everyone's surprise) correctly.
Are you--
"Fine!" he answered, sounding cheerful enough that his coworkers exchanged a nervous glance. "Can we go home now?"
----------------
Whatever note of triumph the returning members of Daitenzin possessed disappeared instantly upon returning to the base. Kabapu smoked like a fiend (it may as well have been from the ears), and Momochi and Shiouji were glued to their laptops. Every monitor in the room displayed a different news report.
"America is down," Momochi said.
"Good gravy, already? Didn't we just have their president on the phone an hour ago?" Kabapu groaned. "Well, never mind that; is Ms. Excel ready?"
"They're still prepping interrogation room 3, but the doctor is already here."
"What are you planning on doing to her?" Misaki asked. "And when you say that America is 'down'..."
"Ms. Momochi will explain. Take a lunch break while you still can, because we're going into mandatory overtime," announced Kabapu on his way out the door.
"I'm not really at liberty to discuss the relationship between Doctor Kabapu and Ms. Excel," said Momochi, "But as for America, the concentrated war effort lasted about forty-five minutes." She turned all of the monitors to one news report, and rewound it a bit.
On the screens, the professional and stoic Excel spoke: "It'd be dishonest to say that we're not a little disappointed at the reception you've given us, but we understand that you might feel threatened by our superiority. As a symbol of goodwill, we have only reciprocated attacks against your capital cities and other centers of significant government activity. We would ask that you please elect a new set of representatives available to finalize the negotiations when we return from Europe."
Momochi killed the display. "No news on Europe yet. I suspect we'll know by the end of the day."
"There's something about that woman," muttered Shiouji.
"She used to live in our apartment building," Misaki pointed out helpfully.
"Eureka!" He snapped his fingers. "It's the way she moves. Watch her blink. There's an art to that. If you want to make a robot look natural, it has to move naturally. Otherwise, she'd just get trapped in that uncanny valley."
"It looks pretty natural to me," noted Misaki.
"Of course it does." He sparkled with triumph. "Because I programmed it. That's my robot."
---------
Excel was tired of unfamiliar ceilings. All of this being knocked out and abducted got under her skin, too. Not to mention that missing Lord Il Palazzo made her so crazy her stomach tied into knots. Nevertheless, none of this pissed her off as much as the big green mustache hovering over her head.
"Good afternoon," said Kabapu.
She would have punched it him had she not been strapped down to the table.
"I'm sorry we had to do it this way," he said, and whether to his credit or detriment, he honestly did sound sorry. "I never should've let you go after what Il Palazzo did to you."
"What Lord Il Palazzo did to me? Who's the one who has me strapped to a table, you lunatic?" She thrashed against her bonds, worked up into an indignant rage. "Don't pretend like you're not an evil, bureaucratic, cigar-smoking politician! Don't look me in the eye and talk like you're not the cancer killing this world! I'll sooner die than do anything that would help you fight against Lord Il Palazzo, so go ahead! Torture me all you want! Cut me, burn me, take me water... board... ing..."
Kabapu followed her horrified expression to where it had landed - a syringe brought in by the nurse. "It'll barely sting. We're not going to torture you."
Excel squeezed her eyes shut, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her whispered prayer was only barely loud enough for Kabapu to hear it. "Help me, Lord Il Palazzo, they're going to take my kidneys..."
"All we're going to do is hypnotize you. Past-life regression therapy."
"Help me, Lord Il Palazzo, help me, Lord Il Palazzo..."
Kabapu sighed. "The needle is gone, by the way. You can open your eyes."
Excel hesitantly opened one eye, and when she found what he said to be true, glared at him viciously. "Past-life regression therapy, are you freaking kidding? Brainwashing me into thinking I'm Cleopatra isn't going to get you anywhere!"
"Lovely woman, Cleopatra." Kabapu looked wistful. "But she wasn't you. I checked. Now, try to relax." He reached out to give her a reassuring pat but, seeing the look in her eyes, reconsidered and retracted his hand. "I'll be leaving now. Best not to have too many people in the room when the machine goes off, but I'll be guiding you from the control room."
As he left, a circle of blinding light flicked on above her. "Um... about this machine..." She heard the click of a deadbolt. "How about just one kidney? Can we negotiate? H-hey!" She wriggled against her restraints and made a few bitter mental notes about facial hair regulations to be implemented under Lord Il Palazzo's rule.
The lights began to pulsate. Excel squirmed desperately, knowing that this was a bad, bad situation. If this guy broke into her head, any number of ACROSS secrets would come spilling out. She suddenly understood why she was so often kept out of the loop... but now was not the time to be humble! She had to resist this intrusion of her mind with every last iota of willpower. She had to fight, because if she didn't--
"Sleep," said Kabapu.
She slept.
---------
Shiouji wasn't looking forward to a long night of reconstructing Iwata while the world collapsed around them. He didn't think that the day could get worse until he arrived home to find his laboratory looking like a frat house. Complicating the situation was the fact that the party-goers were all clearly American, as portrayed by their blond hair, loud English, and cowboy hats.
Now, Shiouji had never put his full genius capacity into learning English (as any PEACH will tell you), but he knew enough to ask where his mother was, and likewise he knew enough to understand, "By the keg."
And indeed she was, a mug in one hand and a movie star in the other. "Gojyoooou, darling, welcome hoooome!" she barked out in slurred English. "I was juuuusht telling Tom about yoooou!"
Shiouji snapped back in disgruntled Japanese. "What's going on? What are all these people doing here? Were you in Illinois or Hollywood?"
"I took a road trip every now and then," she replied cheerily. "Why don't you mingle a little? I'll bet if you ask nicely, Beck will play a ssshong for you~"
"I don't want Beck to play a song for me. I don't want to come home to a big American party! Why are these people in our house?"
Sighing, Miwa excused herself from the crowd and pulled her son aside. "I'm sorry, Gojyou-chan, but they gave me such a warm welcome when I was in their country, and I thought I'd return the favor."
"That doesn't explain why they're here to begin with! I have to fix Iwata tonight, so get rid of these people!"
"Your wiiiiish is my command. I'll take them back to the ship." Before he could demand clarification, she approached the crowd again, shouting out in English. "Okay, everyone! It's past my son's bedtime, so the party's over! Pack up and let's head to the Freewindsh, everybody!"
"Mother... are you ever going to tell me what's going on?"
"At this rate, maybe not. Mama'sh gonna protect you as long as she can!" she cried, pulling him to her chest.
"MOTHER, THIS IS SERIOUS," he sputtered pitifully.
"No one's more sherial than me! Whatever I might do, you're still my shon, and I love you more than anything. Don't forget that, okay?" She released him, and went back to her task of herding celebrities. She only stopped once more to cry, "Farewell, Gojyou-chan!"
He waved irritably before tromping off to his room. Honestly, she could be such a nuisance.
It would be many, many hours before it occurred to him that she might not be coming back.