Dianetics Another Day Chapter 11
Dianetics Another Day
Chapter 11: No Hard Feelings
"Lord Il Palazzo?"
The voice pulled Il Palazzo out of a haze, and he found himself peering up into Excel's eyes. She was close; at this distance, he could see the little cameras behind her pupils, and he wondered why he'd never noticed before. He didn't like how close she was to his throne. "Did I call you?"
"You did."
"Do you know why I called you?"
"I do not."
"Would you care to take a guess?" Il Palazzo was well-skilled in making any issue of his memory sound like someone else's negligence.
"The operation is going according to plan, so unless there is some factor I am unaware of, it seems most likely that you wished to commend me." Her words were the sort of deadpan that can only be achieved with mechanical control.
He considered. He wasn't sure what he would have called her for, but there was something that pricked at the back of his mind. "I am sure you need no special commendation to continue on with your valuable work. No, I fear I have nothing important to say to you. Though there is a matter of small curiosity..."
"I'm happy to serve you in any way I can, sir."
"I am not sure if you are aware of the situation, but would you be able to tell me what happened to the real Excel?"
"The real Excel?" she echoed with only faintest hint of distaste. "Have you changed your mind about dismissing her?"
"No. There's no need for two of you, after all."
"Then, is there any particular reason why you are asking?"
"My reasoning is completely irrelevant," he replied irritably. "It remains your duty to answer me."
She bowed slightly. "My apologies. Give me a few seconds to check some international databases."
But he interrupted her almost immediately. "Never mind. As I said, it's not of any significant importance."
"Are you concerned about her?"
"No... nothing of the sort. She's an independent young woman, after all. And setting the poor creature free was actually something of a kindness, wouldn't you say?"
The robot cocked her head to one side. "I wouldn't know. I suspect that you would not, either." At that moment, Il Palazzo was too stunned to reach for the rope. (Also, he wasn't sure if she'd been properly waterproofed.) He was considering these matters when she added, "Besides, she's not as free as you might think. She's in enemy custody."
* * *
Kabapu took his phone call to the roof.
This was not his normal practice; a man like Kabapu took his calls whenever and wherever he wanted, much the same as his cigars, one of which he also broke out the moment he hit the roof. Today he needed the fresh air as much as the noxious fumes. He was about to relive some bad memories looking into that girl's head, and he had to be at his best for this phone call... after all, it wasn't every day that he got to talk to Tenmangu Shiouji.
"Where are you?" he demanded. "What have you been doing this whole time? Why, I have a mind to--"
"Calm down, Doctor." It was Tenmangu all right, and he was laughing. "I'm happy to explain it to you."
"So explain," Kabapu replied, through not-quite-gritted teeth, because no matter how drastic the situation, he still contained a modicum of respect for his cigar.
"It's nothing personal. But you can understand why I wouldn't trust you, don't you?"
"Wouldn't... what have I ever done to you? Why-"
"Are you outside, Doctor?"
"What?" Kabapu was caught off guard. "Since you mention it, yes. I'm on the roof of the City Defense building."
"Good. Stay there."
"What? Why?" he barked, but the call was cut off, and his cries were quickly drowned out by the humming motors of a cruise ship. A flying cruise ship. And on this cruise ship was Miwa Shoiuji, smiling and waving from the deck as an unconscious Excel lay limp in John Travolta's arms.
"Sorry about this!" she called. "I'll tell you all about it over a few drinks once it's over!"
Kabapu shouted after her, but it was no use. The Free Winds soared off into the sunset.
"I don't believe it," he said, immobilized half by shock and half by rage. "I just don't believe it." His phone rang again, and he picked it up in a fury. "Shiouji, you--"
"Sir?" Momochi cut in. "We have problems."
He sighed. Righteous indignation was one thing, but he couldn't keep up a temper when his secretary was involved. "I know. They just flew off."
"Not them, sir." As she spoke, he turned around to see a squad of men in black suits and dark sunglasses.
The cigar might have fallen from a lesser man's mouth. "I don't suppose these are our men," he said wearily into the phone.
"No sir."
"Right," he said, backing away only a step or two as the men closed in. "Did you call the team?"
"I tried, sir, but they're at lunch."
"Damn."
* * *
Everyone in the world was watching Il Palazzo's conquest, and Il Palazzo himself proved no exception. The first thing he did upon regaining control of his body was to catch up on news reports, taking it all in with awe and just a touch of horror. Here was his conquest, unfolding before his eyes, and he had no part in it. Were he a man of inferior mettle who indulged in such petty things as feelings, those feelings would be hurt.
More than anything, he kept watching because he had very little idea on what to actually do. He had no intention of interfering with ACROSS's success, even if he did not entirely agree with its current methods. The ideal conquest was a consensual one, with no need of weapons or threats; there should be no casualties, even negligible ones such as corrupt politicians. The dark voice in the back of his head needed to be knocked down a few pegs, but not at at the price of his own sacrifice. Trying to stop his other self from conquering the world was unthinkable, akin to shooting himself in the foot.
That having been said, he needed to regain control of the situation before he got too carried away. And though he did not need an ally, could never truly depend on others, he did not like that his other mind seemed to have so many. Excel had been replaced and Elgala had never been his to begin with, which left...
"Heil Il Palazzo... you called me, sir?" Hyatt wiped a bit of blood from her mouth.
"I did. There is something I wish to ask you."
"Oh?"
"Have you noticed Ms. Excel acting in a peculiar manner as of late?"
"Peculiar?" Hyatt looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
Il Palazzo smiled in his usual manner; a quiet, subtle smile which hinted strongly that anything more would cause a strain his dignified facial muscles. "Ah... she has taken on such a great burden recently. I am becoming concerned that it is perhaps too much to ask one person, even one as universally capable as Ms. Excel. Though her performance has been exemplary to my eye, I think that as her coworker, perhaps you might have a different insight into her state of being."
"I see. In all truth, Senior Excel's demeanor has become even more serious than usual, but I don't believe it's affected her negatively. Unless there was something specific which concerns my lord...?"
"No... no, I am completely assuaged. Thank you, Ms. Hyatt. You may be dismissed."
"Thank you, sir."
Il Palazzo watched her leave, a tiny kernel of worry forming in the center of his indignation. Clearly, Hyatt had been compromised... and that meant that he was now totally alone.
(It never occurred to him that she simply might not notice the difference.)
* * *
Matsuya, Watanabe, and Sumiyoshi returned just in time to see their boss be carted away in shackles. He drew his captor's attention to them, but Misaki uttered the words, "never seen him before in my life," and that was that. Not a minute after the unmarked white van had disappeared into the horizon, a full automobile screeched to a halt in front of the building. Shiouji flew out in a flash of flamboyant labcoatery.
"I'm here~!"
"Misakiiiii~" Iwata flew into the arms of his love, or perhaps more accurately, he flew directly into a karate chop.
"Be gentle! I just fixed him," Shiouji whined.
"You ought to get him fixed," she replied.
"I thought so, too, but our mutual employer was peculiarly insistent that he be fully functional. Speaking of which, is the doctor in?"
"He was arrested," said Momochi. Her eyes were closed, but if they'd been open they would have averted from the professor, and indeed, she inched away from him slightly.
"Arrested?" he echoed, not noticing. "By the police?"
"They weren't police," said Misaki darkly.
"Il Palazzo's goons," Iwata said in his most serious tone, as though he were not the last one to think of it.
"Not to speak ill of my honorable patron, but Doctor Kabapu was a busy man. We don't necessarily know that it was Il Palazzo," said Shiouji, and as he did, his cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"We have Doctor Kabapu," said the getting-to-be-all-too-familiar voice of Excel.
But Shiouji knew better. "Ropponmatsu?" He clutched the phone so hard he nearly fumbled it."Ropponmatsu, what have they--"
"I'm calling to pass on Lord Il Palazzo's message," she interrupted. "Namely, that we have no direct enmity with any of you. Should you choose to back down at this point, there will be no hard feelings on our end. Thank you, and remember; the only route to salvation is via ACROSS."
Click.
The crowd of coworkers that had been hanging over his shoulder dissipated.
'No hard feelings,' she says.
"Well... that's good, right?" mused Watanabe. "I never imagined we'd be given the option to bow out gracefully."
"Come on, you can't give into the evil overlord!" Iwata protested. "What would your mother say?"
"I think she'd be glad I'm not dead," Watanabe shot back.
"Why would he bother to threaten us like that?" Misaki asked. "I can't imagine we'd be any danger to him."
Shiouji chuckled. "He wants us to know that he's in charge. Male ego is certainly unappealing, isn't it? The question is what we should do now."
"I'll do whatever Misaki wants to do!" Iwata chirped.
"That sounds good," Shiouji said. "Let's do that."
All right with me, Sumiyoshi agreed. Watanabe was already playing his PSP, and Momochi smiled hopefully.
"Honestly, when did I become the de facto leader?" Misaki took a deep breath. "All right. Let's get lunch."
"Didn't you just come back from lunch?" asked Momochi.
"Actually, I used the break to run a few errands." She had been securing illegal transport to Saipan.
I could go for a snack, agreed Sumiyoshi.
"Am I the only one who actually ate...?" said Watanabe.
"Then it's a date!" proclaimed Iwata.
"No it isn't," proclaimed Misaki's fist.
* * *
You couldn't call it an unfamiliar ceiling, but only on the technicality that the roof above Excel's head was made out of heavy fabric. It was the top of a canopy bed that she found herself under; all in all, not the worst possible place to wake in randomly, but one that certainly confused and alarmed her. There was also something about it that added to her nervousness; perhaps it was the smell of salt in the air, or perhaps the gentle motions of the bed beneath her, but she had the feeling she was not in Fukuoka anymore.
She peeked out, half-expecting to seagulls of and schools of leaping fish. Instead she found herself staring into was the gaping maw of a grinning shark, on the face of Miwa Shiouji.
"Good morning, sunshine," Miwa purred. She was playing a cherry red DS Lite and her glasses glowed with the reflection of a whimpering Nintendog.
Excel had not quite reached the point of free articulation. "What... how... sea...?"
"I rescued you from Doctor Kabapu, remember? You really must do something about this unhealthy habit of getting yourself kidnapped."
"I'll get right on it," Excel grumbled, annoyance rapidly overtaking panic. "Where are we?"
Miwa looked thoughtful. "Somewhere in the Pacific."
"Somewhere in the Pacific."
"Or the Atlantic. It's been a long night."
"Or the... what is wrong with you!?"
"Are you hungry?"
"Like a starving wildebeest." Excel didn't bother to lie. If she was going to live the life of a damsel in distress, she might as well get a free meal out of it.
"Well then, as I'm sure you'd be delighted to hear, we have a fully-stocked buffet." She took a sip of the Cosmopolitan she kept on-hand.
"Then it's a date!"
"No it isn't," said Excel's fist.
* * *
Il Palazzo sat in the dark and contemplated his solitude. Even at times like this, during the rare moments in which his other half slept soundly and unobtrusively, it was difficult for him to enjoy any such thing as silence. He often picked up radio waves in the back of his mind, an unfortunate backlash of being too psychic and wearing too much metal on his head. At this particular moment, My Chemical Romance served as the soundtrack to his rumination.
He supposed he was lonely. His own duality was so ingrained into his being that he had difficulty remembering what it was to be lonely, and yet...
Hyatt could not be a comfort to him. He'd already forgotten that Elgala ever existed. And this new Excel... it didn't matter to him that she was phony. She could be no more phony than the original Excel, after all. But knowing that he could not trust her was like an itch under his skin. And the itch was stupid and maddening, with no place and no purpose, much like Excel herself. If he didn't know better, he might mistake this justifiable irritation for something completely different, such as missing her desperately.
Of course, he did know better, and he had greater things to worry about. So he sat, and he pondered, and he listened to My Chemical Romance, waiting for sleep to once more overtake him.
Chapter 11: No Hard Feelings
"Lord Il Palazzo?"
The voice pulled Il Palazzo out of a haze, and he found himself peering up into Excel's eyes. She was close; at this distance, he could see the little cameras behind her pupils, and he wondered why he'd never noticed before. He didn't like how close she was to his throne. "Did I call you?"
"You did."
"Do you know why I called you?"
"I do not."
"Would you care to take a guess?" Il Palazzo was well-skilled in making any issue of his memory sound like someone else's negligence.
"The operation is going according to plan, so unless there is some factor I am unaware of, it seems most likely that you wished to commend me." Her words were the sort of deadpan that can only be achieved with mechanical control.
He considered. He wasn't sure what he would have called her for, but there was something that pricked at the back of his mind. "I am sure you need no special commendation to continue on with your valuable work. No, I fear I have nothing important to say to you. Though there is a matter of small curiosity..."
"I'm happy to serve you in any way I can, sir."
"I am not sure if you are aware of the situation, but would you be able to tell me what happened to the real Excel?"
"The real Excel?" she echoed with only faintest hint of distaste. "Have you changed your mind about dismissing her?"
"No. There's no need for two of you, after all."
"Then, is there any particular reason why you are asking?"
"My reasoning is completely irrelevant," he replied irritably. "It remains your duty to answer me."
She bowed slightly. "My apologies. Give me a few seconds to check some international databases."
But he interrupted her almost immediately. "Never mind. As I said, it's not of any significant importance."
"Are you concerned about her?"
"No... nothing of the sort. She's an independent young woman, after all. And setting the poor creature free was actually something of a kindness, wouldn't you say?"
The robot cocked her head to one side. "I wouldn't know. I suspect that you would not, either." At that moment, Il Palazzo was too stunned to reach for the rope. (Also, he wasn't sure if she'd been properly waterproofed.) He was considering these matters when she added, "Besides, she's not as free as you might think. She's in enemy custody."
* * *
Kabapu took his phone call to the roof.
This was not his normal practice; a man like Kabapu took his calls whenever and wherever he wanted, much the same as his cigars, one of which he also broke out the moment he hit the roof. Today he needed the fresh air as much as the noxious fumes. He was about to relive some bad memories looking into that girl's head, and he had to be at his best for this phone call... after all, it wasn't every day that he got to talk to Tenmangu Shiouji.
"Where are you?" he demanded. "What have you been doing this whole time? Why, I have a mind to--"
"Calm down, Doctor." It was Tenmangu all right, and he was laughing. "I'm happy to explain it to you."
"So explain," Kabapu replied, through not-quite-gritted teeth, because no matter how drastic the situation, he still contained a modicum of respect for his cigar.
"It's nothing personal. But you can understand why I wouldn't trust you, don't you?"
"Wouldn't... what have I ever done to you? Why-"
"Are you outside, Doctor?"
"What?" Kabapu was caught off guard. "Since you mention it, yes. I'm on the roof of the City Defense building."
"Good. Stay there."
"What? Why?" he barked, but the call was cut off, and his cries were quickly drowned out by the humming motors of a cruise ship. A flying cruise ship. And on this cruise ship was Miwa Shoiuji, smiling and waving from the deck as an unconscious Excel lay limp in John Travolta's arms.
"Sorry about this!" she called. "I'll tell you all about it over a few drinks once it's over!"
Kabapu shouted after her, but it was no use. The Free Winds soared off into the sunset.
"I don't believe it," he said, immobilized half by shock and half by rage. "I just don't believe it." His phone rang again, and he picked it up in a fury. "Shiouji, you--"
"Sir?" Momochi cut in. "We have problems."
He sighed. Righteous indignation was one thing, but he couldn't keep up a temper when his secretary was involved. "I know. They just flew off."
"Not them, sir." As she spoke, he turned around to see a squad of men in black suits and dark sunglasses.
The cigar might have fallen from a lesser man's mouth. "I don't suppose these are our men," he said wearily into the phone.
"No sir."
"Right," he said, backing away only a step or two as the men closed in. "Did you call the team?"
"I tried, sir, but they're at lunch."
"Damn."
* * *
Everyone in the world was watching Il Palazzo's conquest, and Il Palazzo himself proved no exception. The first thing he did upon regaining control of his body was to catch up on news reports, taking it all in with awe and just a touch of horror. Here was his conquest, unfolding before his eyes, and he had no part in it. Were he a man of inferior mettle who indulged in such petty things as feelings, those feelings would be hurt.
More than anything, he kept watching because he had very little idea on what to actually do. He had no intention of interfering with ACROSS's success, even if he did not entirely agree with its current methods. The ideal conquest was a consensual one, with no need of weapons or threats; there should be no casualties, even negligible ones such as corrupt politicians. The dark voice in the back of his head needed to be knocked down a few pegs, but not at at the price of his own sacrifice. Trying to stop his other self from conquering the world was unthinkable, akin to shooting himself in the foot.
That having been said, he needed to regain control of the situation before he got too carried away. And though he did not need an ally, could never truly depend on others, he did not like that his other mind seemed to have so many. Excel had been replaced and Elgala had never been his to begin with, which left...
"Heil Il Palazzo... you called me, sir?" Hyatt wiped a bit of blood from her mouth.
"I did. There is something I wish to ask you."
"Oh?"
"Have you noticed Ms. Excel acting in a peculiar manner as of late?"
"Peculiar?" Hyatt looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
Il Palazzo smiled in his usual manner; a quiet, subtle smile which hinted strongly that anything more would cause a strain his dignified facial muscles. "Ah... she has taken on such a great burden recently. I am becoming concerned that it is perhaps too much to ask one person, even one as universally capable as Ms. Excel. Though her performance has been exemplary to my eye, I think that as her coworker, perhaps you might have a different insight into her state of being."
"I see. In all truth, Senior Excel's demeanor has become even more serious than usual, but I don't believe it's affected her negatively. Unless there was something specific which concerns my lord...?"
"No... no, I am completely assuaged. Thank you, Ms. Hyatt. You may be dismissed."
"Thank you, sir."
Il Palazzo watched her leave, a tiny kernel of worry forming in the center of his indignation. Clearly, Hyatt had been compromised... and that meant that he was now totally alone.
(It never occurred to him that she simply might not notice the difference.)
* * *
Matsuya, Watanabe, and Sumiyoshi returned just in time to see their boss be carted away in shackles. He drew his captor's attention to them, but Misaki uttered the words, "never seen him before in my life," and that was that. Not a minute after the unmarked white van had disappeared into the horizon, a full automobile screeched to a halt in front of the building. Shiouji flew out in a flash of flamboyant labcoatery.
"I'm here~!"
"Misakiiiii~" Iwata flew into the arms of his love, or perhaps more accurately, he flew directly into a karate chop.
"Be gentle! I just fixed him," Shiouji whined.
"You ought to get him fixed," she replied.
"I thought so, too, but our mutual employer was peculiarly insistent that he be fully functional. Speaking of which, is the doctor in?"
"He was arrested," said Momochi. Her eyes were closed, but if they'd been open they would have averted from the professor, and indeed, she inched away from him slightly.
"Arrested?" he echoed, not noticing. "By the police?"
"They weren't police," said Misaki darkly.
"Il Palazzo's goons," Iwata said in his most serious tone, as though he were not the last one to think of it.
"Not to speak ill of my honorable patron, but Doctor Kabapu was a busy man. We don't necessarily know that it was Il Palazzo," said Shiouji, and as he did, his cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"We have Doctor Kabapu," said the getting-to-be-all-too-familiar voice of Excel.
But Shiouji knew better. "Ropponmatsu?" He clutched the phone so hard he nearly fumbled it."Ropponmatsu, what have they--"
"I'm calling to pass on Lord Il Palazzo's message," she interrupted. "Namely, that we have no direct enmity with any of you. Should you choose to back down at this point, there will be no hard feelings on our end. Thank you, and remember; the only route to salvation is via ACROSS."
Click.
The crowd of coworkers that had been hanging over his shoulder dissipated.
'No hard feelings,' she says.
"Well... that's good, right?" mused Watanabe. "I never imagined we'd be given the option to bow out gracefully."
"Come on, you can't give into the evil overlord!" Iwata protested. "What would your mother say?"
"I think she'd be glad I'm not dead," Watanabe shot back.
"Why would he bother to threaten us like that?" Misaki asked. "I can't imagine we'd be any danger to him."
Shiouji chuckled. "He wants us to know that he's in charge. Male ego is certainly unappealing, isn't it? The question is what we should do now."
"I'll do whatever Misaki wants to do!" Iwata chirped.
"That sounds good," Shiouji said. "Let's do that."
All right with me, Sumiyoshi agreed. Watanabe was already playing his PSP, and Momochi smiled hopefully.
"Honestly, when did I become the de facto leader?" Misaki took a deep breath. "All right. Let's get lunch."
"Didn't you just come back from lunch?" asked Momochi.
"Actually, I used the break to run a few errands." She had been securing illegal transport to Saipan.
I could go for a snack, agreed Sumiyoshi.
"Am I the only one who actually ate...?" said Watanabe.
"Then it's a date!" proclaimed Iwata.
"No it isn't," proclaimed Misaki's fist.
* * *
You couldn't call it an unfamiliar ceiling, but only on the technicality that the roof above Excel's head was made out of heavy fabric. It was the top of a canopy bed that she found herself under; all in all, not the worst possible place to wake in randomly, but one that certainly confused and alarmed her. There was also something about it that added to her nervousness; perhaps it was the smell of salt in the air, or perhaps the gentle motions of the bed beneath her, but she had the feeling she was not in Fukuoka anymore.
She peeked out, half-expecting to seagulls of and schools of leaping fish. Instead she found herself staring into was the gaping maw of a grinning shark, on the face of Miwa Shiouji.
"Good morning, sunshine," Miwa purred. She was playing a cherry red DS Lite and her glasses glowed with the reflection of a whimpering Nintendog.
Excel had not quite reached the point of free articulation. "What... how... sea...?"
"I rescued you from Doctor Kabapu, remember? You really must do something about this unhealthy habit of getting yourself kidnapped."
"I'll get right on it," Excel grumbled, annoyance rapidly overtaking panic. "Where are we?"
Miwa looked thoughtful. "Somewhere in the Pacific."
"Somewhere in the Pacific."
"Or the Atlantic. It's been a long night."
"Or the... what is wrong with you!?"
"Are you hungry?"
"Like a starving wildebeest." Excel didn't bother to lie. If she was going to live the life of a damsel in distress, she might as well get a free meal out of it.
"Well then, as I'm sure you'd be delighted to hear, we have a fully-stocked buffet." She took a sip of the Cosmopolitan she kept on-hand.
"Then it's a date!"
"No it isn't," said Excel's fist.
* * *
Il Palazzo sat in the dark and contemplated his solitude. Even at times like this, during the rare moments in which his other half slept soundly and unobtrusively, it was difficult for him to enjoy any such thing as silence. He often picked up radio waves in the back of his mind, an unfortunate backlash of being too psychic and wearing too much metal on his head. At this particular moment, My Chemical Romance served as the soundtrack to his rumination.
He supposed he was lonely. His own duality was so ingrained into his being that he had difficulty remembering what it was to be lonely, and yet...
Hyatt could not be a comfort to him. He'd already forgotten that Elgala ever existed. And this new Excel... it didn't matter to him that she was phony. She could be no more phony than the original Excel, after all. But knowing that he could not trust her was like an itch under his skin. And the itch was stupid and maddening, with no place and no purpose, much like Excel herself. If he didn't know better, he might mistake this justifiable irritation for something completely different, such as missing her desperately.
Of course, he did know better, and he had greater things to worry about. So he sat, and he pondered, and he listened to My Chemical Romance, waiting for sleep to once more overtake him.