Set to Kill, Chapter 8: Leveling Tokyo

Here we go again.

FYI: Sorry about disappearing for a few days, But I've been seriously freaking tired lately, and there are more than a few people who want my time, so it's good to take a few days every so often.

Coming soon: Stupid Puppy Kicking tricks, and Tor.

And sometimes, they're the same thing.

Be well.

****

Galadren, “Middle Earth's Most Wanted Elven Assassin,” had been standing at the entrance to the skywalk for the better part of an hour, waiting on the Marriott side of the walkway. He was to one side of the water fountains, which created a space for him to stand without blocking traffic. He had spent most of that time fielding compliments and questions about his look and his bow.

And then the communications unit in his ear chirped to life. “Galadren, we have a possible suspect, in the Hyatt, perhaps coming your way. About six feet tall, dressed in a Godzilla costume.”

Galadren was already moving. He hopped onto the rail that ran along the wall leading to the skywalk, and then sprinted along the rail. “What is Godzilla?”

Sean growled in frustration. “Looks like a green … dragon. Only the costume looks pretty damn cheap.”

Galadren kept running, hopping onto the back of a wheelchair that looked like it was designed for Mad Max, kicking off of a wall in order to bound around a corner, and grabbed a light fixture to swing onto the next rail.

It was a good thing he took that route. Everyone else in the skywalk had stopped to take pictures.

He stopped at the final corner as the skywalk turned into the Hyatt lobby. The creature that had been described to him was already trying to get through the skywalk, but had been stopped by the crowd.

Galadren looked at the creature called Godzilla, and quickly drew an arrow. “Halt, beast, or I shall dispatch you forthwith.”

The creature looked around, as though confused about who the elf might have been referring to. It froze a moment, and turned, pushing its way back through the crowd, into the lobby.

Galadren had cleared the sightlines, as dunedain Ryan had taught him, and loosed an arrow, pinning Godzilla's head to the wall.

Godzilla kept moving, the arrow pulling a massive tear in the back of its head.

Galadren frowned, briefly puzzled, then bounded after the creature, running along the rail, and finally leaping over the crowd, drop-kicking Godzilla in the head.

Godzilla's head came off, and the beast kept running.

Galadren glowered, vaulted over a chain connecting a couple, and kicked the knees out from under Godzilla as it neared the stairs.

Godzilla bounced a few times down the stairs, then rolled across the lobby a little. It pushed to its feet, and dashed around the stairs and the escalators.

Galadren growled, leaped onto the rails for the stairs, slid down it, and ran around the corner.

Godzilla had molted. The back of the rubbed suit had given way and opened, leaving a hollow center.

Galadren looked around the floor. It was mostly populated by men and women in full-body covering, in the shiny material called spandex.

Galadren cursed in elvish.

Someone in a turtle costume with a mask around its eyes looked at him and said, “Dude, not cool.”
A guy in a red, white and blue outfit, carrying a shield, said, "Language."

Galadren muttered to himself all the way up the stairs.

When he got to the top of the stairs, a woman said, “Hey, want to come to our room?”

Galadren looked at the woman. She wore a chain mail bikini, and a collar – the collar was connected to a chain, which was held by a man dressed in leather. The elven assassin cocked his head at them and said, “Why would I?”

The woman gave him a smile that seemed out of place. “We can think of something.”

“Sorry, I cannot think of anything.” He heard rushing footsteps, and turned towards them. “Pardon me.”

“Room 222, Hilton!” she called to his back.

That was odd, he thought. He ran across the lobby, past the elevators, and ran into Sean Ryan and another man coming out of International Tower.

“Where'd he go?” Sean asked.

“He molted.”

Sean blinked. He took a quick moment, and said, “Dang it.” He tapped his earpiece. “Overwatch, did you have eyes on who came out of the Godzilla costume?”

Galadren heard the voice of their tiny sorceress in their ear. “He must have slipped it off camera. And I have like six groups of costumed people walking through. Half a dozen green lanterns, another half-dozen ninja turtles, and nine Sailor Scouts dressed like Japanese school girls, and I'm not sure that they're all women. You come down here and sort through this.”

“Yes,” Galadren answered, “I, too, saw the shelled ones. I did not count them, though.”

The familiar blond man asked, “Turtles? Ninja turtles? How many were there?”

“Six,” Sean answered.

“One of them is the guy,” he answered. “The most the ninja turtles ever topped out at were five, and that's if you go for an unpopular female addition.”

Sean said, “Did you hear that, overwatch?”

“I did. Tell the nerd you're talking to is that one of the turtles has spikes on his back.”

Sean echoed that assessment, and the blond frowned. “Nuts. Didn't think they'd incorporate bad guys. Never mind.”

Sean sighed. “I'm surrounded by nerds, and they can't even get their fandoms straight. Wonderful. And for the record, I preferred Donatello.”

The other man looked at the closed tactical baton in Sean's hand and said, “I never would have guess.”

“Shut it, Kovach.”

Galadren blinked. “Ah, friend Kovach! I now recall you. Have you been well since our last encounter?”

The author shrugged. “No one's shot at me in months, that's always an improvement. Though now people are trying to kill me again, so … honestly? It's starting to feel like I'm finally back to normal.”

“I understand this.”

Sean held up a hand. “Stop. Galadren, lead the way to the costume.” Sean followed, and kept speaking as they went down the stairs. “Overwatch? Call the cops, tell them to send a forensic team, we got someone running around with sharp objects. I want the costume dusted for prints, and maybe DNA. Yes, it takes two days, but the con is four. If this nutjob kills somebody, we can have a head start on suspects.

“And this is why I hate cons.”