Zot Arrival

[Roughtrade]

This appeared in in the Top Cow comic issues 09 & 10. 

I am always my worst reader, it all seems kinda simplistic to me now.

[Roughtrade]

"Name?"

"Elisabeta Mechitbayeva."  I answered the woman behind the desk.

"Mechabuy...?"

"Mea-sheet-baa-ava."  I pronounced it for her slowly.  It was my mother's maiden name.

"Birth certificate?"  She asked, holding out a hand.

"I'm sorry, I don't ... I'm not from here."

"They don't have birth certificates in Russia, or wherever you come from, Mzz Mechasha-whatever?"  The woman frowned at me, looking up from the computer terminal at her desk.

"I was told that it wasn't necessary to have identification papers to apply for Hero Status with your bureau."  I tried to not let it fluster me.

"That is technically correct."  She answered with a slight sigh, looking me over again.  "Secret Identities are protected, but it does cause more paperwork.  Since you're not in a costume, I just figured you didn't have any objections.  "Just between you and me, sweetie."  She leaned a bit over her desk and spoke in a hushed tone.  "The white hair is a bit noticeable.  You might want to try to wear your costume, or dye your hair, if you want to maintain a Secret Identity."

"No, it's not that so much."  I replied.  "I'm just not from here.  At least, I'm from Paragon City but not really this Paragon City."

"Dimensional Entity?"  She arched an eyebrow and tapped at her keyboard. "Then you'll need to fill out forms twenty-six-eff and a jay-ten-forty. Visa status under the Heroic Assistance Act and a simple loyalty oath."

"Look, I'm not a devil or some creature from the pits.  I was born in Talos, my parents were first generation immigrants from Rumania; I just come from an alternate time-line."  I watched in dismay as her printer spewed out paper, on its fifth sheet and showing no sign of slowing.

"You still need to fill out the paperwork, sweetie."  Her smile had seemed grandmotherly at first, but now seemed to be less than kind.  "I've got at least ten applicants waiting behind you.  Why don't you go get your tights, or miniskirt or whatever it is you wear with your mask and then fill out the papers."  She gestured towards a door off to the left.  "Come see me when you've got these filled out."

I collected the papers and a pen and picked up the briefcase that contained my armor, heading for the rest rooms.  The three doors baffled me for a moment.  Men, women and oh-my-lord-how-big-are-you!  A hulking grey being in a silk suit stepped out of the last one.  I'm not a tiny woman, almost one hundred seventy centimeters, but I think his arms were as big around as my chest.  He grumbled something under his breath and glared at me when I could not stop staring.

I've been familiar with heroes for much of my adult life, for there were as many of them in the Paragon City I came from as there are here.  But I hadn't been this close before, and I never really had given thought to certain aspects.  I looked at the door again, shook my head and hoped that the janitors around here were well compensated.

In the ladies room, two women in tight fitting costumes were attending to their hair and chatting. I entered a stall and began to put on my armor. 

"Coyote said I showed a lot of potential."  One was saying to the other.  "He asked for my personal number and said I should call him anytime if I wanted to talk about hero stuff or just take a load off my chest."

"Oh Lord, is he still using that line?"  The other said.  "Look, he may be a shaman, but let me warn you, there's more than a little wolf in him, if you catch my drift."

"I'm sorry?" The younger girl sounded vexed, although I might have imagined it as I put on my helmet..  Things sounded tinny and a bit distant.

"Look, I'm just here to file the paperwork and get my cape back."  The older woman was saying.  "I'm not trying to step on any toes.  Coyote is doing a great thing, spending time in the Hot Zone, helping with testing new heroes and giving people advice.  He really does know his stuff, but he's male and your costume leaves little enough to the imagination.  He won't be the last to hit on you."

"But he seemed so nice."

"Yeah, he's a charmer."  There was something wistful in her voice that made me think perhaps she had fallen for Coyote's line.  "He's a very nice guy, but his moral compass comes from a pagan spirit of animalistic nature.

"Just keep that in mind if you call him, and wear something that doesn't show off so much."

"You think this is too much?" the younger girl asked.

I finished putting on my armor and exited before they could rope me into the conversation.

In the Dimensional Exiles room things were a bit more chaotic.  There was a babble of voices, most in languages I didn't understand.  Judging from the company they likely were neither from this earth, nor one close in parallel.  A large man with a mace was arguing with a stocky bearded fellow carrying an axe.  At the chair beside them a pretty young woman with golden hair and pointed ears was slowly losing her temper and trying to shush them.  Elsewhere there were other groups in similar circumstances, just different body types.  Things with green skin and scales and things with red skin and horns chatted and a huge blue man with three eyes sat on the floor in the back.

I chose a seat by a small, yellowish creature with a bulky body that had dusky red markings all over.  He gave me a half crazed grin that showed shark's teeth, but otherwise seemed harmless. I hoped he was harmless. I tried to ignore the room and began filling out the paperwork.  Much of it seemed to not really be applicable.  There were things I had expected:  Place of birth.  Has your dimension been in contact with this one before?  Can you return home?  Are there others from your home in Paragon City? And so on.

Then there were questions I wasn't so sure I would want to know the answer to.  Is your skin temperature hazardous?  Are any of your bodily fluids inimical to human life?   Do you have any special dietary requirements?  If your answer to the above was "yes," then please list.  If your dietary requirements involve blood, please fill out form eleven-six-bee to apply for approved rations.

Blood?  I glanced at the fat, yellow, imp beside me and shuddered when he grinned again.  Maybe I was being paranoid about not admitting who my father was in my home.  He wasn't a villain there; and maybe I was wrong, maybe he wasn't one here.

"You help Tan'ari?"  The thing beside me shivered and crouched on the seat of his chair.

"What?"  I asked.

"Help Tan'ari!"  It said again.  "Tan'ari want to help humans.  Tan'ari want to hurt evil.  Tan'ari made to hurt evil.  But Tan'ari need help."  It held up its hands, each one ending in a talon that clicked.  "Cannot hold pen. Cannot fill out form.  Cannot help humans until can fill out forms.  Help Tan'ari and Tan'ari help Blue Armor Lady."

"I don't need help filling out the forms."  I stated, scooting my chair a bit away from him.  It was a him, a small, wicked beard on the chin and the deep voice decided it for me.

"Tan'ari can help Blue Armor Lady in other way."

He hopped on a chair and threw his arms wide; there was a popping sound as hundreds of black thorns burst from his body, shooting in all directions and flinging a thick, viscous goo that spattered on my visor.  Amazingly, not a single being in the room was harmed, which showed a tremendous control in my opinion.  I was fairly certain it was only because he chose not to hit anyone.

"Sorry!  Sorry!  Tan'ari is sorry!"  He hopped up and down on his chair, apologizing to the room as they began to protest.  "Tan'ari is full of thorns.  Must let the thorns out or they hurt Tan'ari!"

"If you promise to go outside to do that from now on, I'll help you."  I wiped goo off my visor as I took his papers.

"Yes! OK! Tan'ari promise!"

"Let's start with the important ones."  I said as he settled into a sort of perch on his chair.  "Special dietary requirements."  I looked at his teeth.

"What do you eat?"

"Flesh!"  He smiled brightly.  The teeth stood out quite sharply, bright white against his dusky yellow skin.

I wrote down "Steak Tartare" and went on to the next question.

Half an hour later I was at the front desk again.

[Roughtrade]

"Name?"

"Elisabeta Mechitbayeva."

She looked up at me and sighed.  I shrugged.  Tan'ari jostled the desk, receiving a sour look from her that had him scuttling back a step or two.  This time I noticed the tag, which read "Lydia, Administrative Hero Helper" pinned to her sweater.

"Is that the name you want to be known by?"

"Umm ... no?"

"Well then, what would you like to be known as?"

"What was it you called me before?"  I asked her.  "Miss Mecha."

"Sorry."  She said after she tapped at the keys.  "It's taken already."  She hit another key.  "So are several variations on it.  Ms. Mecha.  Missus Mecha.  Mecha Maid.  Mecha-underscore-Maid and even Mecha Made."

She looked up at me.  "What's your second choice?"

"Ummm ... I don't know.  I hadn't thought about this part."

"No one ever does."  Lydia sighed.  "Oh you heroes complain about it.  Why can't we decide on our names first?  But do they really put any thought into what they want to be called?  No."  I winced as she sighed again.  "Never mind, we can come back to it.  What are your powers?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You're going to be a super-powered hero, right? That is why you're here?"  She said, looking up again.  "How do you plan to do it?"

"Tan'ari has thorns!  Many thorns!"  The imp hopped ecstatically before she glared at him, wordlessly sending him back a step as he snapped his mouth shut with a click.

"Oh, well my suit is armored, high impact resistance and insulation."  I replied before he could go further.  "And I can generate an electrical current up to a terawatt--"

"Hold on a second."  She interrupted.  "You're only being granted level one security access at the moment.  You can't just go blasting out a terawatt of power, not until you've proven yourself.  Keep it down to 10 or 12,000 volts if you don't mind.  When you move up in classification, you can crank up the amps."

"Yes, Ma'am."  I responded, quietly deciding to not mention the stasis field generator I was working on.  "Until the people of Paragon know that I'm not more of a threat then the ones I am arresting I understand that there are some restrictions."

"Tan'ari can..."

Lydia snorted harshly and turned a withering glare on Tan'ari, stopping him before he said another word.  He clapped both hands, paws, over his mouth and I wondered if "Glare" could be her own personal super power.  It certainly seemed handy. 

"Uh-huh. Anything else your power suit does?"  She asked, looking away from the nuisance and once again smiling politely at me.

"Well beyond the protective features and a small amount of muscular amplification, not really."  I told her, hoping to not be on the receiving end of one of those withering frowns.  "It has a radio receiver, but most of my auxiliary functions were damaged when I came through the portal from my own home.  I'm working on fixing the stealth field generator, and my gravitic compensator barely lifts me more than half a foot."

"Good."  She answered.  "We prefer that lower security personnel restrict themselves to ground level anyways.  But that's all explained in the handbook in your new apartment.

"Standard issue for all heroes, you will receive a modest allowance, deposited in a blind trust.  Your security card permits you to draw funds from any ATM, but do not lose it.  There's a code key required so it will be difficult for someone to access your account, but the paperwork to replace them is complicated."   

"The quarters are nice, if a bit bland," she continued.  "You will also be issued a radio transceiver, which you can integrate into your personal systems if you like.  It has several modes of operation.

"Broadcast mode is open to everyone, though it is blocked by the war walls.  You can look for other heroes who might be out and about, try to find friends, or solicit advice from more experienced heroes.  Then there is the Request Channel, which is higher priority.  We ask that you restrict chatter on Request to calls for help or true emergencies, but nothing really prevents you from asking for help in Broadcast or trading cookie recipes in Request.  Please refrain from discussing politics or religion on either channel."

"The transceiver is also capable of limited multiplexing that allows for you and up to seven others to establish a private channel.  This allows you to coordinate tactics and keep track of each other without spamming the airwaves.  Team channel is very useful for small groups."

I mentally filed the information and resolved to convert output from the transceiver into a print mode for my heads up display.  No way was I going to actually listen to a hundred odd heroes at the same time.  If anything important was said, I could always have my internal computer highlight and scroll it back for me.

"Now then, we still need a name."

"Huh?"  I had become distracted.

"You need a name so I can finish filing you on the server."

"Server?"  Tan'ari chirruped.  "Am here to serve, not be served."  And then he ducked behind me before Lydia could fully focus her stunning stare on him.

"Yes, yes."  She settled for shushing him.  "I'll get to you in a moment.

"We have eleven supercomputers here at City Hall to track all the heroes contracted.  There are redundancies, of course, but your primary information is going to be kept on Liberty, which is the name given to the server that is connected to my system here.

"But before I can register you and give you your Identification Card, I need a name."  She sighed. Her sighing was like an art form, or possibly her defensive power.  "Before you ask, just about every variation on 'Lightning' is already taken.  Every bad spelling, hyphenated, scrambled and suffixed thing one could think of has already been done."

"Why not name of Blue Armor Lady?"  Tan'ari asked.  "Is how you look."

"I don't think so."  I rolled my eyes.

"What about Zot?"  Realizing he was safe from Lydia's Evil Eye, Tan'ari continued to be helpful.  "Lightning goes ZOT!"

"Only in cartoons."  I scoffed.

"It's not taken."  Lydia said, blinking in surprise.  "I can't believe it.  Zot is available."

I looked at the grinning devilkin, who smiled even more broadly.  What the heck, why not.  "Sure.  I'll take it."  I told her.  "Zot.  It's easy to remember."

"Tan'ari helped Blue Armor Lady!"

"Favor for a favor."  I nodded at him as her computer hummed and my ID Card slid out from a peripheral. 

Tan'ari tried to follow when I got up and in the end I stayed to help with registering the impatient imp.  He appeared to have adopted me and his blissfully merry attitude made it difficult to turn him away.  We were issued passes to board the tram for the Hot Zone where he went a little nuts and captured over fifty of the infected thugs wandering loose in the streets.  Coyote issued us a special citation, proving in the process that he was as nice, and as flirty, as gossip in the Ladies Room had predicted.  We passed the initial tests, and were transported back to Galaxy City where I volunteered for an assignment against the Clockwork.  I had to know if my suspicions of them were true. 

Three months ago I had arrived in this Paragon City, a refugee from the Rikti domination of my home.  It was very possible that my father in this dimension was a lunatic king of wind-up toys, that my mother had died before they ever met and that I had never been born.  I was a stranger in a familiar land.  I was homeless.  But as I watched Tan'ari launch himself into a trio of Hellions, bouncing off of them like a pinball, I realized I wasn't friendless.  I had a purpose, a quest, and my own personal attack imp.  What more could any self respecting blue armored lady ask for?

"Stop and face Zot!"  I shouted, removing the option by tossing a tangle bomb at the Hellion who had escaped my ally.

[Roughtrade]

Lighthouse was a big help in getting this published.  He suggested expanding the role of Tan'ari and injecting a little more humor into the story.  He also did not like this ending and wanted the more upbeat one that was published.

But considering recent events, I thought I would share the original ending.



"Tan'ari helped!"

She printed out my card and I left her to input Tan'ari into her Liberty server and stepped out into the sunshine of Atlas Park.  The huge earth sculpture in the arms of Atlas loomed overhead, casting a shadow over the door.  It was a massive rock, beneath it people danced, chatted, read the plaque commemorating his memory and some even floated up to the top and stood to survey the city.  To me, it was a massive reminder.  A memorial and a mark of my promise.

I remember the end of the world.  The end of my world at least.  The day that the Rikti came and tried to annihilate everyone in Paragon City. They almost succeeded here, but where I come from, they won.

The Rikti had surprised us in much the same way as they had in this world, coming out of portals in a coordinated effort.  My father, a genius of electronics and mechanics as well, rallied with the best minds as our heroes went to fight.  We had heroes in my world, some with similar names, some with similar histories as they have here.  But our heroes were not enough.  The last stand was at Crey's facility in Talos.

I came staggering back, a failure.  The Rikti were breaking in the doors, my armor was cracked and broken.  It looked like there was no hope; my father activated the portal beam transmitter and hit me with it.  I woke up in the rubble of a smashed building in King's Row.  Where I came from, the world ended, but maybe here I can find a way to change that.  Or, in the very least, get a chance to take the fight back to the Rikti Homeworld and get some revenge.