Nuklear Age

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Nuklear Age Page 21

by Clevinger, Brian


  “Now off to our real jobs,” Meter Maid added. The group gave the kind of hokey laugh usually reserved for the end of poorly produced and overly cliché cartoon programs aimed at children and their parents’ wallets. They left in Delivery Boy’s Suburban Assault Vehicle despite the fact that I said Crushtacean had eaten it just a little while ago. So there.

  Nuklear Man looked down at Atomik Lad. “You know, Sparky, y'oughta head back to the Silo and change.”

  “Yeah, I know. Rule #1: Always look your best.” Atomik Lad had learned the most important rule years ago. Rule #1: All rules are Rule #1.

  “Mainly, I was thinking that without a shirt on, compared to me you might develop some inferiority complex. Or at least a worse one than you must have now from all these years of being around me. But I guess you’ve got a point too.”

  “Thanks.”

  “An inferior point, but a point just the same.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  “I know.”

  “Anyway, there should be a spare outfit in the Nukemobile’s trunk. I’ll head back to the beach and change.”

  “Whatever happened to what’s-her-name?”

  “What’s-her—RACHEL! Oh geez.” His Atomik Field erupted and he shot into the dusty sky. He mused that a post apocalyptic sky would probably look like this. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to find out for sure when he got back to Rachel. Nuklear Man heard the most disgusting sound in the world. He spun around to see, “Angus?” The rest was a blur.

  __________

  Rachel slipped a T-shirt over her bikini top. She reached into the backseat of the Nukemobile and pulled out her backpack. She lay down on her beach blanket, tied back her shoulder length hair, took a notebook and some pencils from her pack, and started sketching to distract herself from the haunting feeling that she’d been stood up.

  It then occurred to Rachel that her life of school, work, reading, art, and general tedium had been interrupted as of late and that she was actually on a date with The Atomik Lad. She had seen and spoken to The Nuklear Man. In person and very casually too. She’d met a score of other hero types, nearly kissed The Atomik Lad, battled some overgrown purple mutant alien guy, and her date, The Atomik Lad, had been dragged from her by the vicious attack of a giant crab from the bottom of the ocean. And how could she forget that she’d nearly kissed The Atomik Lad. Wait. Did she say that one already? Whatever, that’s not the point. “What the hell am I doing?” she asked the ocean. “Why can’t I meet normal boys? This is insane.”

  __________

  “Ah’ll teach ye to use me Dwarf-a-Powers like that!” Angus roared as he battered the Golden Guardian with head-butts and kicks.

  Nuklear Man, despite being thoroughly roughed up, couldn’t help giggling. “Heh, ‘Dwarf-a-Powers.’ What’s next, a Dwarf-a-Kick?”

  It was.

  “Ouch! My shin!” was not the right thing to say.

  “Grrr! YYYYYYEARGHBLBLBLBLE!”

  __________

  Dr. Ima Genius toiled over a hot supercomputer. She compiled results, cross-referenced conclusions, sent for coffee that arrived cold, cured a form of cancer, and determined one more piece of Crushtacean information. “It’s mating season?”

  __________

  Norman crashed into the beach some distance from Rachel and a ton of sand exploded into the frothy waves. She ran toward him. “Norman! It is Norman, right? Are you okay?”

  His tungsten body was covered with international postage. “Stupid high-rise post office,” he muttered to himself. “I think I’m fine, but you gals look a little green.”

  “What?”

  “It’s probably from all that spinning around you’re doing. And this plaid sunlight isn’t good for your skin. You should go inside and rest for a while.”

  “Um. I think you should just lie down for a bit. Don’t try to, um, anything.”

  Atomik Lad landed near them and his crimson field evaporated. Somehow, the sight of Rachel’s bare legs sticking out of the shirt was exponentially sexier than the bikini could have ever been. “Hhhhhhiiii,” he sighed and, in a lucky coincidence of phonetics, Rachel took it as a greeting rather than the lewd sensory overload that it was.

  “John, Norman here is hallucinating. I think.”

  “Who?”

  “John?”

  “Where?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re hallucinating too.”

  “I’m not sure, it’s hard to believe such a vision of beauty could be real.” He ended it with a little snap-point move that would’ve made Nuklear Man proud.

  She was taken aback for a moment. “Oh my, aren’t you the smooth one.”

  Before he could reply, Norman stood. Or rather, standing was his intention, but rolling his face into the sand was the result. “Mmf mblm.”

  “We’ve been eating a lot of sand today. I think we ought to roll him back over. It’s probably hard to breathe through solids.”

  Rachel helped heave the Tungsten Titan onto his side. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

  “Well, his Magnosmash attack magnetically propels him around the world. When Crushtacean dodged that last one, I think he continued to accelerate out of control and got his brain a little jumbled.”

  “So he’s just really dizzy?”

  “I hope so.”

  __________

  “Dwarf-a-punt!” Nuklear Man yelled as he dropkicked Angus like a football.

  The Surly Scot spun around in midair. “That did it!”

  __________

  Crushtacean stealthily scuttled from street to street. This involved a lot of citizens screaming, several cars being stepped on, a score dogs barking, and half a dozen seafood restaurant owners repenting. Come on, my little darling, where are you?

  A resounding cry of “Dwarf-a-pult!” bellowed across the city. The mating call wafted after it like perfume.

  Ah! There you are!

  __________

  Rachel looked from Mighty Metallic Magno Man’s prone body to Atomik Lad. “So is that crab thing all taken care of?”

  “Yeah, Nuke went a little psycho and blasted it back to the Mesozoic Age.”

  Crushtacean chose that minute to scuttle over the wreckage Angus had left strewn across the highway behind the dunes. Atomik Lad’s shoulders slumped “Or not. Keep an eye on Norman for me. I’ve got to find Nuke. This crab thing is getting serious.”

  “That sounds like a personal problem,” Rachel winked.

  Atomik Lad laughed. “Blast, she found out my dirty secret.” He managed a semi-serious demeanor. “I’ll be back soon.” His Atomik Field surrounded him as he once more took to the sky. Damn thing’s always working when I don’t need it to. He tried not to dwell on the thought too much. He always suspected his Field had a cruel sense of irony. “Now how do I get Nuke without losing track of Crabby? Wait a second. Didn’t I just come this way?”

  __________

  Crushtacean scuttled right over and past a comical dust cloud that roamed through the not-so-mean streets of Metroville. Atomik Lad stopped following it for a moment and paused. The cloud was impenetrable to the naked eye, but he could guess what was inside by the sparks and constant stream of curses with a strong Scottish flair that flew out of it. “Poor Nuke. Musta made a little joke,” he said.

  The cloud immediately dispersed. Nuklear Man had his foot against Angus’s forehead as the Surly Scot’s arms swung in a wildly fruitless effort to come within striking range. “Hey, Sparky,” Nuklear Man said.

  “Looks like you’ve got a little trouble there.”

  Angus ceased his limb flailing. “What’d that laddie say?”

  “Naw, I’m fine,” Nuklear Man said with a thumbs up. “How’s it goin’ on your end?”

  “We’ve got a small problem.” Atomik Lad gestured to Crushtacean as the monster looked under a car for something, seemed frustrated, and tossed the vehicle into a nearby building before moving on to the next car.

  “Small problem, eh?” Angus mu
ttered through clenched teeth. “Ah never woulda thought the laddie was against me too.”

  Nuklear Man surveyed Crushtacean. “Again? Maybe we should use that shampoo they’ve got down at the free clinic. I’ve got a coupon from last time!”

  “Where did you—no, why do. Forget it. We’ve got to do something about our Crab friend here. He’s proving to be more than a tiny inconvenience.”

  “That does it!” Angus roared, toppling Nuklear Man onto his back. “DWARF-A-PULT!!!”

  Crushtacean smashed through half a building, causing the other half to collapse due to several factors, among them gravity and a sudden lack of structural integrity. She’s right around here!

  Atomik Lad’s Field repulsed the Iron Scotsman’s attack and sent Angus screaming, “YYYYYYEARGHBLBLBLBLE!” right over Crushtacean and into the urban jungle.

  “Oof!” Nuklear Man uttered as Crushtacean stood on his golden-clad tummy. Crushtacean frantically thrashed around tearing down the walls of any building within his reach . He didn’t have the most complicated brain, but he had capacity for enough abstract thought to know it shouldn’t be this hard to find a fellow Crushtacean. He stopped to consider his options.

  Atomik Lad viewed these events almost outside himself. “You know, I don’t think it likes the sound of Angus’s Dwarf-a-Pult,” he said.

  “Who does?” Nuklear Man said in a strained whisper. He was out of breath from the giant beast standing on his torso.

  “Now that I think about it,” Atomik Lad rubbed his chin. “Every time I’ve heard Angus Dwarf-a-pult, Crushtacean here goes a little crazy.”

  “I can see why,” Nuklear Man grunted as he tried, rather unsuccessfully, to heave the beast off his chest.

  “Maybe we could use this to our advantage,” Atomik Lad said. “We could taunt it with the Dwarf-a-pult until it becomes so cross that it would make a mistake.”

  “Couldn’t we just run away?” Nuklear Man said.“Apparently not,” Atomik Lad said.

  “Stupid physics.. I’ll bash you good!” He unleashed a “PLAZMAAA BEAM!” against he Crab’s underbelly.

  Oh gross! A warm spot! One of those damn Clamzillas was probably around here Gah! Crushtacean removed himself from Nuklear Man’s chest.

  “Beware the power o’ Plazma, vile ancient deep sea creature, for it is of the eternal flames of heaven, whereas you descend from the briny—”

  “Nuke!”

  “Shush, I’m quipping in a Heroic fashion as per my particular idiom.”

  “You can jibba-jabba later.”

  “Not in public!”

  Atomik Lad held his head and hoped it would be enough to keep his brain from jumping out. “Whatever. Crushtacean is getting away!”

  Nuklear Man dusted himself off. “Technically speaking, that’s not altogether a bad thing.”

  “C’mon!” Atomik Lad chased after it.

  “Aww nuts.” Nuklear Man followed.

  Atomik Lad, invincible Field set to maximum , soared after the rampaging Crushtacean with Nuklear Man close behind.

  “Where are all the fire trucks and everything?” Atomik Lad said. “You’d figure they’d be all over this disaster by now.”

  __________

  Every fire truck, police car, and ambulance in Metroville was like a fly in the web of Metroville’s clogged roads. At the front of the line of flashing lights and blaring sirens was the Civil Defender. His Infantry Stopper 2000 Assault Cannon was aimed at Fire Chief, the superhero of EMTs and firefighters who was to lead the efforts in Metroville, while he wrote what seemed to be an endless series of tickets. Each ticket, upon completion, was thrown at Fire Chief’s bare feet. The Fire Chief wore a fire fighter’s hat with a feather through it and a stony, patient face with deep set eyes that yearned for a simpler time.

  Rip. “Obstructing Traffic!” Civil Defender tossed the ticket into the pile that now came up to Fire Chief’s knees. Noticing the mess, Civil Defender scribbled out another ticket and tossed it to the pile. “Littering!”

  “You already write’um that ticket,” Fire Chief noted.

  Civil Defender twitched with anger. “Oh yeah? How does Indecent Exposure sound to you, Chief Running Bare?”

  The ticket danced into Fire Chief’s face, tumbled down his exposed chest, over his crossed arms, and joined its brothers in the pile.

  “That sound heap corrupt.”

  Civil Defender twitched once more. He glanced back at the stranded rescue vehicles. “Loitering! Nya ha!”

  The Indigenous Extinguisher caught the ticket in midair and read it. “This only notebook paper.”

  “Um.”

  “You have’um no legal power.”

  “Er, no. Not as such. But I am a crazed and misguided vigilante hell-bent on righting even the most insignificant wrongs, no matter how meaningless.”

  Fire Chief tapped his foot. It caused a minor ticketslide.

  “You’re all under arrest?” the Armored Officer asserted with all the confidence of a sponge.

  Fire Chief brandished a tomahawk.

  Civil Defender’s eyes darted back and forth. “Well, I guess you win this round—BLAM BLAM BLAM!”

  “Maybe if you shoot’um heap big gun instead of heap big mouth.”

  “Ahem. Righto.” Civil Defender opened fire in a final, desperate attempt to maintain his delusions of police work by providing cover fire for his own escape.

  __________

  Dr. Ima Genius lowered a bulky helmet onto her head She buckled its strap across her chin and balanced the device with one hand while adjusting a few knobs and dials on a console in front of her with the other. The helmet was adorned with little multi-colored blinking lights and antennae of varying lengths. She flipped the Scientific: Engage button. Arcs of electricity shot and crackled across her technological helm. “Now to localize his Alpha Wave Series.”

  __________

  Nuklear Man soared through Metroville. He and Atomik Lad were still chasing down Crushtacean. This was easier than it might otherwise have been since nearly a third of the buildings were gone or otherwise easy to see through. Tactical scenarios to subdue The Crab spun through Nuklear Man’s mind. This of course included, and was completely limited to, I shall make a feint to the northeast, followed by silence. Hmm. I wonder what I’m supposed to do after that.

  His introspective survey was interrupted by the scratchy and ghostly voice of Dr. Genius popping into his mind. “Calling Nuklear Man.”

  Aww geez, not again! Nuklear Man thought.

  “Calling Nuklear Man,” the voice repeated, this time slightly less garbled.

  Look, I thought we had a deal. I agreed to commit those ritualistic murders and you agreed to leave me alone.

  “What?” Genius’s voice was now perfectly clear. “What are you talking about?”

  You know, the ritual murders to provide sacrificial victims for summoning pagan death gods to usher in a new era of oblivion etcetera, etcetera.

  Ima’s voice was laden with drastically worried and concerned tones, “Nuklear Man, have you begun these murders?”

  No. I planned on starting tonight once we wrap up this crab thing. Don’t be so pushy, you’ll get your sacrificial victims.

  “Nuklear Man, do not, I repeat, do not commit any murders.”

  Is that a double negative? Is this a test of my loyalty?

  “No. Look, I, or we, or whoever, have made other arrangements. No murdering. Do you understand?”

  Well, yeah, sure. I just wish you voices would make up your minds though.

  __________

  On the other side of Metroville, inside a dark and damp abandoned warehouse, a pale green patch of light barely illuminated the center of the derelict structure’s interior, making the walls seem that much more distant. The light came from an oversized computer screen displaying the details of Plan C:

  “Step 1: Design Evil: Telepathy Device. Complete.” A little animated female in a lab coat bonked a cartoony computer with alternate blows by a wrench
and mallet.

  “Step 2: Contact Nuklear Goon. Complete.” A radar dish sent little wavy signals to a buck-toothed figure in a cape flying above it.

  “Step 3: Convince Nuklear Mongoloid to carry out ritualized murders to provide sacrificial victims for summoning pagan death gods to usher in a new era of oblivion etc., etc., Complete.” A close up of the caped and buck-toothed individual showed his brain, X-Ray style, in a vice-grip.

  “Step 4: Dance on Nuklear Grave. Incomplete.” The animated lab coat lady from Step One gaily spun around a tombstone with an electron-orbited “N” engraved on it. The picture had a giant red X superimposed over it.

  Dr. Menace clenched her fists and shook slightly. “Fine.” She placed her hands on the computer console with a calm she didn’t know she possessed and lowered her head. “On to Plan D.”

  __________

  “Now, Nuklear Man,” Dr. Genius said. “I have set up a telepathic link between the two of us. We are sharing all of our surface thoughts. Sorry for the intrusion, but I had to contact you as soon as possible, and this was the only way.”

  “No problem.”

  “Good. Now, you have to…what’s that noise?”

  An announcer yelled, “Ahora es la hora para Loco Paco's Midnighto Madness! Vengances a Loco Paco de Discounto organ donor clinico! Sabado para tremenda ventas en estomagos, corazones, y dedos—” Nuklear Man punched himself in the skull a few times to silence the new intruder. “Lousy brain,” he grumbled.

  “What was that?” Dr. Genius asked.

  “Oh, you know. Spanish radio.”

  “Spanish radio?”

  “Yeah. What, like Spanish radio doesn’t invade your thoughts too?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Oh, you silly scientists and your well-known senses of humor. Y'oughta quit your day job. I mean, what do you do up there other than stare at charts an’ stuff anyway?”

  She checked a few readouts on her computer console. “His brain waves are actually so low they intercept radio signals,” she mumbled to herself.

  “Spanish radio signals!” he said. “En Español.”

 

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