Fiction: An adventure of Sidekick Carl!

 This week I finally got to a special project: An adventure of Sidekick Carl! Here's my opening chapter/ demo, complete with Bossk/ the Master Mutant, with no other comment.

The space was more a chamber than a room, lined with monitors, readouts, displays, and controls arranged in a sphere just over 2 meters wide. In the middle of it all was a creature that clearly was not human. It was roughly bipedal, but its arms were longer than its legs, and its skin was iridescent scales that occasionally changed colors and shades in ripples. It wore clothing enough to cover its torso and pelvis, but it was strictly utilitarian, lined with pockets and pouches filled with tools and implements of all sizes. It hissed as it made a hasty adjustments on a keyboard that had been haphazardly modified for a huge clawed hand. It showed no comparable reaction at the sound of pounding and a distinctly juicy squelch. A hemispherical eye swiveled toward the chamber’s elliptical opening. It gave a single guttural growl. In the corridor outside, two gray shapes seemed to detach themselves from the wall and padded into the darkness.

There were more sounds: scuffling feet, a metallic scraping, several thuds, and a single piercing screech. The creature extended a long, dexterous tongue to press one last, large button. The lights all went red or turned out entirely. The screens all showed the numbers 10:00, and promptly began counting down. The creature turned away from the controls, then leaped upward, disappearing into the pipes and cables overhead, just as the sound of footsteps drew near.

In the shadows and incidental lighting, a distinctly white shape appeared. As the footsteps drew nearer, it resolved into a figure in what looked like a white jumpsuit. The hands and feet were glad in black, while a dark red helmet covered the head. The newcomer paused at a sound overhead. He looked about, then raised a darkly tinted visor. Behind it were a pair of clearly human eyes, but what could be seen of the face was pale and blotched. He advanced toward the chamber, just before the creature came slamming down. Its skin still bore the colors and patterns of the piping above. The man whirled around, but showed no surprise. The creature hissed, and a ripple ran down its body as its color returned to a uniform light brown.  Its jaws gaped as it spoke venomously, “You.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” the intruder said. “Regular old Carl.”

“They said you were dead,” the creature said. Its voice was a low rasp, with words interspersed with a croaking that sounded vaguely like a rumbling engine.

“They said the same thing about you,” Carl said.

“Being thrown into a propeller will do that,” the creature said with a rumble that might have been a laugh.

“You jumped, the big guy just ducked,” the man countered. “It was his idea for me to retire. When he found out what you were doing, I insisted on coming along.”

“You came to your death,” the creature said. Its clawed hand slashed once, and Carl went tumbling down the hall like a rag doll. He landed face down on top of a coil of gray tubing. At that moment, another figure emerged.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said in a gruff yet kindly voice. He was slightly shorter than Carl, but much more robust. He was almost comically stocky, and some might indeed have laughed if they saw him if not for his stout biceps and massive fists. He was clad in the simple garb of a construction worker, except that his helmet was a silver color that might once have been mirror-bright chrome, now worn and battered to a steely gray. His neck was almost as thick as his arm, and his face was half-obscured by a broad and thick mustache. He unslung a shovel slung across his back. “It’s just Carl.”

“You are too late, Constructor,” the creature said. He followed the newcomer’s gaze down a cross passage. “My weapon is finished. The controls are locked. It will launch in 5 minutes.”

“What happens then?” the muscled man said.

“The rocket will launch to 30,000 feet, then divide into 12 submunitions,” the creature said. “The payload will then aerosolize over an area of 100 square miles. As for the rest, you know the specifications of the agent.”

The Constructor shook his head. “The omniphage isn’t selective,” he said. “Once it is released in the atmosphere, all animal life will be destroyed, including the mutants. But I suppose you have a plan for that.” As he spoke, there was a rustling sound.

“There is no plan,” the creature said. “Only this place. When the rocket launches, it will seal. When the omniphage has no more hosts, it will die, and then I and my loyal subjects will emerge to rebuild.”

“You have no loyal subjects, Basiliskus,” Constructor said. “Only mindless drones made in your image with none of your intellect. The only ones that were different are the ones that broke free long ago.”

The creature shrugged. “When the world is cleansed, there will be room for others like me to set up their own domains,” he said. “Perhaps they will follow me, perhaps they will not. But it will be our world.”

Constructor was already headed down the cross-passage. “You will never have a world of your own,” he said. “If you were a thousand lightyears from every star, you would still be afraid, because in your heart, you doubt yourself.”

“What are you doing?” Basiliskus hissed. “I told you, the rocket cannot be stopped.”

“I’m not  stopping it,” Constructor said. As he spoke, he broke into a run, and Basilliskus leaped after him. There was clanging, slashing, tearing, and finally a shriek that trailed away.

The echoes were still fading when Carl reached the cross-passage. His jumpsuit was torn from his right hip to his left shoulder. The two ends of the tear drew together as the fibers knit back together. The last six inches of gray tubing slid back into the gradually shrinking tear. “Constructor!” he called out.

“Don’t come any closer,” the gruff voice called out in answer. “Get back to the surface.”

“There’s no time,” Carl answered. “Besides, there’s only one passage that won’t be sealed.”

He reached a guardrail already torn in half and dripping rusty orange fluid. He looked down into a cavernous shaft that almost faded into blackness before the first sign of a pointed silver nose.  His companion was one level below, throwing barrels into the depths. He looked into a recess to one side, and pulled out a miniature turbine with backpack straps. “They left lift packs, probably for emergency repairs,” he said. “There’s two. We can use them to reach the surface.”

“I know,” Constructor said. He punctured a barrel with a large rake. Reddish fluid spilled out as he rolled it over the edge. “It’s the best way to make sure the bay doors seal.”

“Come on,” Carl said. “We can do it together.”

“Let me tell you something,” Constructor said. “A long time ago, I was proud to be foreman for a big government contract. The first assignment was building cages… cages strong enough to hold a hippo. I told my men, we didn’t need to know what they were for.”

“That was a long time ago,” Carl said. “You didn’t know. Nobody really knew.”

“I’ll tell you what we both know,” Constructor said. “Basiliskus isn’t staying down there.” He caught one of the packs as Carl threw it down.

“Go,” he said. “Live your life. And this time, don’t just find a quiet place to hide away. Be you.”

There was a steady whine from the open mouth of the shaft. Finally, Carl rose to the surface, just before the pack gave out. He landed on hands and knees, then immediately scrabbled for a panel in the concrete ring. By the time it was open, a jet of flame shot up from the depths. He pulled a lever, and a steel iris began to shut. Before he could let go, a large, clawed hand seized his wrist.

“It is the end,” Basiliskus gasped. He hung from the edge of the shaft, just able to reach with his long arm. Flames still danced on his back. His arm was already burnt black, badly enough that bone showed between the charred scales. “Let this world go. You might even live.”

“No,” Carl said. Then he lunged forward, smashing his helmet on the creature’s  brow. He dropped with a last rattling call. A moment later, the iris closed. A moment after that, it bowed out visibly, glowing blood red.

 

And Carl sank onto his back, his visor raised. When the soldiers arrived in their air-tight exoskeletons, they found him still there, gazing up at the sky.