Kikiwai: The Assassins' Reckoning
In the underground parking garage of the hotel where the hardline faction's hired thugs—intent on wiping out Nanoi alongside the cosmic monsters—were holed up, the men were preparing to head toward The Rariert Kikiwai, where Dr. Levi Sau and her team were staying.
Stashed in the trunk was a minuscule dose of deadly poison, harmless to most intelligent beings' bodies. Spraying it into the Nanoi guests' rooms would kill them without leaving a trace. Sure, they wielded advanced tech in their airship or spaceship, but if they stepped out to relax, a gap in the door would let the potent fumes in, dropping them dead in seconds.
"Their homeworld's in peril, and they're kicking back at a hotel for the weekend? They deserve a scolding."
"Alright, time to squash some bugs."
Cackling as they piled into the van, the men sped off toward their target. Of course, they didn't forget to don fake mustaches and masks inside the vehicle.
"Clean 'em up nice, then enjoy some vacation time before heading home."
"You bet."
The two top priorities: leave no evidence, and keep the big-shot politician footing their bill from surfacing. That's why they'd gone to the trouble of using pricey encrypted comms gear for contact.
After 24 hours of three-shift radio hijacking, today was the finale. Wipe out the Nanoi remnants, and fat bonuses plus easy living awaited.
"Let's roll."
The van brimmed with euphoric high spirits as the driver floored the accelerator.
The 12-seater van burst out of the garage and raced along. The Rariert Kikiwai was on the island's far side—plenty of time to arrive. At the ringleader's suggestion to catch some shut-eye, everyone but the driver sprawled across the back rows.
And the moment they crossed an intersection—
BAM!!
An 8-ton truck barreled in from the right, smashing into the van's side.
SKREEECH!!!
Leaving a long skid mark on the road, the van spun out, lost control, and flipped onto its side.
"Urghhh…."
The men crawled out, enduring gut-wrenching pain like their insides were crushed. No fatalities, but everyone groaned, nursing at least one broken bone.
The driver—sole one buckled up and thus least hurt—staggered out and lurched toward the offending truck.
"You fucking bastard! Hit us and you oughta bash your head in!! Get out here now?!"
He peered into the crumpled cab, but no driver. Just a fist-sized device on the wheel, proof it was remote-controlled.
PFFFT.
"Ah."
The next instant, a stinging pain in his neck. He reflexively touched it, feeling soft fur and cold metal.
No need to pull it out to check.
"You son of a—"
Thud.
Darts loaded with tranquilizer flew one by one into the crew's necks. They were all out cold in under a minute.
[Target silenced. Commence transport team operation.]
Watching it all via screen from afar, Bishuti issued the order.
Sirens wailed as several ambulances arrived at the scene. The fake paramedics swiftly loaded the "patients" onto stretchers, piled them in, and vanished like they'd appeared—ignoring signals entirely.
Moments later, the real paramedics showed up, but only wrecked vehicles littered the road.
The rogue ambulances headed not to a hospital, but to a subspace special hangar entrance under a dark overpass. Bishuti had airlifted it from the mainland to solve parking woes for the Kikiwai Multidimensional Branch plaque ceremony.
SPLASH!
"Mmphgh?!"
Yanked from the fake ambulance, the men's faces met a bucket of water.
Finally face-to-face with the radio hijackers, the minotaur stared down impassively.
"Amateurs blinded by greed can't be allowed to sacrifice soldiers. Their lives exist for worthier purposes."
Masks hid his face, voice distorted—no info on Bishuti for them. All they could do was frantically simulate escape routes.
Guns trained on them from all sides left no room for resistance. Fresh from anesthesia, minds foggy, the captives realized persuasion was their only play.
No clue how their location leaked. Maybe the radio gear at the hotel. Or a traitor. Either way, no idea how they'd been made.
More pressing: what did their captor want?
His talk of "no sacrifices" and dragging them here made his side obvious.
"Nanoi collaborators?"
"Indeed."
"You can even see those fuckers?! Smaller than bugs—why treat 'em like people?! Letting them live gets us killed!"
They pleaded their cause was greater—drugged brains couldn't muster more.
"To you, your homeland's brave youths look worth less than vermin. Understood."
Bishuti's flat tone ended; he gestured. A subordinate hit a remote.
CLANG!
A 20cm-thick reinforced plastic cage dropped from the ceiling, caging the hijackers.
"What the hell?!"
Soldiers in camo sealed it airtight at the base. The men's faces drained pale.
The cage's sole hole: 5cm diameter, hooked to a clear pipe.
Poison gas like they'd planned for Nanoi? Then came a buzzing whine from somewhere.
"A tale from Dimension 25's war-torn days. Manpower shortages meant one officer juggled roles. Kill foes by day, interrogate POWs by night. Often both."
"…Interrogate?"
The men flinched at the word, but the masked minotaur pressed on.
"Fancy term for interrogation. War knows no mercy for intel. Folks called it torture tech."
A hard-to-describe sorrow crept into his modulated voice.
"Enemy soldiers under a dictator, loyal to orders. Hated their bunker-hiding leader but never spilled base locations. Wouldn't betray comrades."
"……."
"He suicided mid-torture. Honorable foe. We buried him proper, sent the body home."
The minotaur opened a metal case on the floor. Inside: a reinforced glass cube. A familiar critter buzzed wildly within.
"Little-known fact: Dimension 25's Erasmus military dictatorship engineered horrors via gene mods to assassinate exiles. A gravid female escaped the lab due to lax oversight, spreading to other dimensions."
The caged men's eyes locked on the cube's bug—no, space monster.
"Fuck."
Pre-Kikiwai briefings they'd half-ignored replayed in their heads.
"N-no. No way."
A grotesque bug with one eye. Mosquito-like, but its proboscis pierced hazmat suits. No antidote post-bite? Blood coagulated slowly, body-wide agony beyond imagination.
"Meant to ask who's backing you, but changed my mind."
Click.
Cube linked to the pipe; the frantic space monster rocketed through toward the men.
"No respect for vermin ignorant of honor. Let bugs handle bugs."
"Wait!! I'll spill everything—just spare me…!! Stay back!!! Stop…!!! You fucking piece of shiiiiit!!!"
Screams echoed as Bishuti calmly keyed his radio, passing the baton.
"The rest is yours. Antidote or death, your call."
The private bankers, slouched against the hangar wall, nodded faintly.
"If one survives the swarm, maybe we'll consider."
"…Hangar's no-smoking."
To guC alums like Razma, long blurred on life-death lines, others' fates mattered little.
"Living folk are such a hassle."
Dead or alive, they'd extract what they needed.
11 a.m. Kim Jian's apartment, not far from the Dimensional Credit Vault Multidimensional Branch.
Modest for one person, today it brimmed with visitors. But his space wasn't overrun—guests were employees of finite corp Colossus Robotics, normal-sized folks no more.
Dr. Sau projected a hologram the size of Kim Jian's thumb from the airship, expressing gratitude.
"No trouble at all. Embarrassed to show you my messy place."
Kim Jian scratched his head sheepishly. Women in his space? Rare, so awkwardness hit hard. Thousands rode that airship, but she was the one chatting now.
"Ah…."
Kim Jian recalled tales of 20s-30s bachelors' rooms all looking alike, smiling wryly. He'd seen few, but Mira griped women's were surprisingly messy too.
Kyu…!
Meanwhile, Dimension 33 spirits turned Kim Jian's desk into a cute miniature forest, eagerly mingling with Nanoi. Airship and hologram near their size? They buzzed around fascinated.
"True, but… keep it secret, please. Don't wanna trouble the one who secured their home."
Dr. Sau's hologram extended a hand to a fluffball wind spirit, smiling.
"Thanks for understanding."
Kim Jian brought them home to brace for hardliner goons' attack. Seemed overkill at first, but Bishuti's update changed that.
Captured team's goal: assassinate Sau. Evac to factories and hotel was right call.
They'd flipped the first ambush, ID'd backers—but no complacency. More threats possible.
Until the crowdfunding-tied home shopping broadcast with Sau and Afro Sass. Truth to masses, Colossus sold out.
Storms ahead.
"Doctor."
"Time to head out."
Eyes on gravely nodding Sau, Kim Jian knelt, leveling with the tiny hologram.
"Let's make the best show ever. Ready?"
Now, the finale to save Nanoi.
Sau's hologram fist-bumped Kim Jian's hand.
"Then let's go meet Afro and the director."
The airship hummed silently aloft. Kim Jian and thousands of researchers headed north Kikiwai coast.
Entertainer, banker, and bone soldier's spectacle about to livestream across dimensions.