Chapter 12
She reaches out and, very gently, touches what little remains of his right arm.
It is a simple thing, almost unworthy of notice. Yet the very action of April touching my father all but demands that I take notice. My father is Hamato Donatello, president of Saki Industries—nothing, and no one, touches him. Not business rivals, not enemy ninja, not world leaders. Not even I myself, except on rare occasion. Not until today … when a middle-aged, red-haired woman broke all the rules, without even knowing.
But before I can ponder further on this, Karai delivers a sharp kick to Director Stockman's torso and sends him staggering in my direction. While keeping an ear towards my father and April's current conversation, I strike at Stockman with my katana.
"Donny! What happened to your arm?"
Stockman parries, and my blade glances along the length of his metallic limb. He chuckles and, as I slightly lose balance, he whips his other arm towards my head.
"It was amputated. Really, April, I'd think that was rather obvious."
Ducking, I can feel the air rush over my head as Stockman misses. Now is my chance. He's swung too wide and left himself open. I grab my sword with both hands and stab, pushing into the movement with all my weight.
"Yes, I can see that. But why was it amputated?"
The katana hums with tension as it strikes him square in the chest. Then, to my surprise, the blade snaps clean in two.
"I really don't know, April. You'd have to ask Baxter's goons." Even from this distance, I can hear my father's sigh of impatience. "But if I had to speculate? I would imagine it had something to do with the bullet you managed to lodge in my brachial artery."
My head snaps up at this. Bullet? April failed to mention anything to me about a bullet …
Suddenly Stockman's shoving me against the wall, taking advantage of my momentary distraction and trying to grab me by the throat. Fortunately, Karai arrives a mere moment later, katana in hand. She slides the sword around his back, yanking hard and pinning one of his arms to his side.
The science director's solitary eye glares in her direction. "You know, I never did like you, Karai," he sneers, trying to wrench his arm free.
The older woman raises an eyebrow. "The feeling was quite mutual, Dr. Stockman, I assure you."
While Stockman is still focused on Karai, I leap forward and grab onto his other arm. It requires all my strength and training just to hold on. His robotic limbs thrash wildly, and I realize I can't keep my grip for much long. Karai seems to realize this as well. Turning in exasperation to April and Father, still deep in heated conversation, she calls out, "Some assistance, please!"
That grabs their attention. But before they can approach, there's a deafening boom. As the sound echoes loudly off the laboratory walls, I find myself throw onto my back. Silence reigns for a long moment, as black smoke drifts aimlessly overhead. Then I pull myself to my feet in time to see Karai doing the same.
I quickly look around the large room and—there. The source of the smoke. Dr. Stockman is lying motionless near the wall, a smoldering crater now present in his robotic chest. I glance back to Karai, who wears the ghost of a smile as she stares in the opposite direction. Inquisitively I follow her gaze.
Dr. Chaplin is standing in the laboratory door, holding what appears very much to be a bazooka.
"Sorry I was late, Mistress," he says, wearing a broad grin. "I had to go back up to the 'copter to get this little baby." He reaches up to give his bulky weapon an affectionate pat. "It's a specially modulated laser designed to short-circuit robotic systems. State of the art, too. Naturally."
Our reunion is cut short by a groan from behind. Stockman. Still conscious. Karai and I reach him swiftly and each take firm hold of an arm. Chaplin enters the room, his weapon still trained on the fallen doctor, and comes to a halt a mere few feet away from us.
"How poetic," mutters Stockman weakly from the floor, "to die at the hands of the little brownnoser who replaced me, all those years ago."
Chaplin frowns, an oddly hurt expression darkening his eyes. "I didn't want to shoot you, Dr. S. But you really aren't giving us a lot of options here."
"What with the whole megalomaniacal doomsday stuff," adds April. Along with Father, she moves to stand beside Chaplin. "Surely you knew the explosions would kill you too."
At that Stockman lunges forward, but Karai and I manage to keep him in place. Finally, frustrated and defeated, he snarls, "Of course I knew, you ridiculous girl! That was the whole damn point!"
My father glares at him impassively. "And what, exactly, is wrong with a simple rope and noose?"
"John Bishop, that's what!" Stockman shakes his head. "Over and over I die, but that sadistic monster keeps bringing me back to horrid, mutilated life. The annihilation of the District of Columbia was meant to take care of that little problem once and for all."
"And New York? The East Coast?" April asks, her dry tone belied by the anger flashing in her eyes. "Just a happy bonus, I suppose?"
Dr. Stockman chuckles. "Getting rid of Saki Industries and one of those pesky mutant freaks? Certainly sounds like a bonus to me."
With a low growl, April reaches for Chaplin's gun. She grabs it before he can react and then begins charging it to fire. "For over twenty years," April whispers fiercely, "you have managed to make my life a living nightmare. But not anymore, Baxter."
She points the weapon, and I can feel Stockman tremble in my gasp. Then, just as the weapon's hum reaches fever pitch, my father reaches out with his remaining arm and restrains her.
"April, don't."
Surprised, she looks up at him but doesn't speak.
"Don't do this. Don't turn into me." He won't meet her eyes, choosing instead to gaze out the laboratory windows at the black night sky. "Because if you do this …" He sighs tiredly. "There's no going back, April."
Angrily she stares at Stockman, her face hard and unreadable. When at last she lowers the gun, Chaplin gently takes it from her hands. Then he lifts it back onto his shoulder and slowly, carefully, takes aim.
"Dr. Stockman," he says, while the weapon's recharging, "I want you to know that I have nothing but the utmost respect for you. I always have."
"Go to hell, pipsqueak." But there's no bite to what Stockman says, no anger, only sadness. In truth, I almost think I hear a hint of relief.
Dr. Chaplin shoots, at point-blank range. And though the weapon blast is much weaker than before, still the weight in my arms goes slack.
We all wait for several long, tense moments. But the robotic body does not so much as twitch. Then Karai kneels down. She takes her katana hilt and slams it against the glass protecting what is left of the doctor's biological self. Scooping out the brain in one quick motion, she tosses it high and, on its descent, makes several passes through it with her sword. It lands in small gray chunks on the otherwise pristinely white laboratory floor.
April lets out a shuddering sigh.
As Karai sheathes her blade, Chaplin drops the gun and walks over. He puts an awkward arm around her shoulders, and she allows it. "Let's return home, Mistress."
She nods, and they turn to leave. But the old ninja pauses in front of my father. They look into each other's eyes, neither blinking. Then Karai dips her head in a bow—slight but present nonetheless.
Father's eyes go wide with surprise before, after a moment and with a touch of hesitation, he returns her bow with one of his own. Once he has straightened, the two ninja lock eyes again.
"You will take care of her?" Karai snaps, and it is more command than question.
"Yes," Father replies gravely. "I always have, and I always will."
"Very well." She glances over her shoulder at April then at I. "I would say that it was a pleasure working with you both, but that would perhaps be untrue." She pauses thoughtfully. "Suffice it to say, I wish you well. May you live long and fruitful lives."
While April visibly struggles for a response, I choose to merely bow. "Domo arigato, Karai."
With a pleased smile she bows in return. Then, Karai leaning on Chaplin, they finally make their way to the door. Just before they disappear from view, Chaplin calls out happily, "Oh, and Dr. O'Neil? If you're ever in Nebraska some time, we should definitely get together and trade lab stories!"
April laughs in reply. After a moment, Father begins chuckling as well.
Meanwhile, I glance back at Dr. Stockman's laptop. "Father, the nuclear threat remains," I begin, musing aloud. "What do you suggest we should do now?"
"Well, somebody should probably call up President Bishop and let him know about what's been going on in his own country." Eyes twinkling, he grins at me. "Let it be the Feds' problem, Hiroko. I think we've already played hero enough for one day."
Just then April frowns and interjects, "Wait a minute. 'Father'?"
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Author's Notes: Thanks as always for the wonderful reviews! My apologies for the lack of clarity last chapter in who was narrating. Not my intention, sorry.
In my story outline for Part II of this story, there were alternate versions of this chapter. One had Hiroko die and also revealed an origin story different from the one I've decided on, and the other version didn't. So, partly because Sunbune requested it and partly because I think it fits the story better, Hiroko gets to live to fight another day. (In case anyone's curious, the alternate version would have revealed Hiroko to be an android constructed by Don.)