hello, friends!
here is chapter three! i hope you enjoy!
trigger warning: execution by firing squad. it's not that bad (i don't really describe it)
please everyone read and review! i REALLY wanna hear feedback on how this story is going! i love it so much!
we're getting close to the end, my friends! just a few more missions/romantic scenes/preparations and then we'll be ready for the last battle! I'm so excited to write it...
please everyone review!
thanks everyone!
peace out!
—PROFESSOR GRANVILLE—
"There it is," Abigail whispered, her voice echoing from seemingly empty sky. "Do you think the North Koreans fixed the hole?"
"Perhaps," Grace replied, squinting through her visor for a closer look. "It appears that they have, but there are no guards at the entrance. I expect that they're more worried about who gets out than who gets in."
The two spies landed on the balcony, looking through the glass in case there were guards stationed in the office. There were none in sight, so Grace pushed open the door and they slipped inside.
"Take a right here," Hiro's voice whispered over the comm link as they entered the hallway. Grace had to stop herself from letting out a gasp—she'd nearly forgotten that the rest of the resistance was listening in on the mission.
The spies crept down the hallway, Abigail's FlexiRex keeping close to the wall in front of them. When they were about halfway to the Amphitheater, two guards came down the hall, and Grace pressed herself against the wall, not daring to breathe lest the sound alert the guards to her presence. Thankfully, the North Koreans passed, and all was quiet.
After a few more minutes, the spies reached the Amphitheater. Abigail sent the FlexiRex under the door, and Hiro confirmed that all he and the rest of Big Hero 6 could see was a room devoid of people.
Grace carefully aimed her heat ray at the crack between the door and the frame, slicing the locking mechanism in half. There was no sound, no alarm alerting North Korea to their presence, but a tiny light on the lock panel started to blink red. They'd have to be fast—if any more guards came down the hall, they'd realize that someone had compromised the lock.
Grace took one last look at the hallway, making sure no guards were in sight, and opened the door. She and Abigail stepped inside, shutting it as quietly as possible behind them and then exiting invisibility mode to give the suits a longer time to recharge.
As the door shut, Grace looked around the room, realizing that the walls were lined with massive, gleaming spheres—atomic bombs. Stacked on shelves were smaller, oblong missiles with fins on the end, as well as grenades of every kind—ceramic, metal, carbon fiber. These alone were enough to take out the whole state of California, maybe even Nevada and Oregon. Still, they weren't the worst part.
The crown jewel of North Korea's missile arsenal stood in the center of the room on a pedestal, the largest sphere yet. It was a bomb unlike any Grace had ever seen, made of sleek black carbon fiber and shot through with veins of silver. It wasn't an atomic bomb, nor a hydrogen bomb. It appeared to be a thermonuclear bomb, but much larger than anything Grace knew of.
Inscribed on the pedestal were Korean characters—폭탄의 왕—and Abigail whispered to the rest of the resistance to take a still shot of them so they could translate later. Grace didn't speak Korean, but she could guess at the translation—something like "all-powerful weapon meant to destroy America."
This was bad. Very bad. With all these missiles, North Korea could completely take out the country, possibly even the world if they had more stored somewhere else.
"Agent one, reporting to base," Grace whispered into the comm link. "The North Koreans have several hundred grenades of every known model, as well as approximately one hundred smaller firebombs. They also possess around thirty atomic bombs, which could be used to take out large cities such as San Fransokyo. North Korea's last and largest weapon is a thermonuclear bomb, made of what appears to be carbon fiber and with a diameter of approximately twenty-five feet. This is much worse than we feared."
"That does seem pretty bad," Megan's voice said. "Do you think there are any more bombs in KreiTech?"
"We'll have to search," Grace replied. "But I would hazard a guess at this being their whole arsenal. Based on data we had before the war, I don't believe they could possibly have more missiles elsewhere."
"Maybe we can look in the other rooms," Abigail suggested. "They might—"
"Silence!" Grace hissed. "Someone is coming!"
Footsteps had begun to echo down the hall, and Grace pushed the invisibility button on her arm guard. To her horror, the mode refused to activate—the suit had run out of power. It hadn't had long enough to recharge. Perhaps it was implausible to do so, but Grace wished that Hiro could have made the invisibility permanent.
"Stand behind the thermonuclear bomb," Grace whispered to Abigail. "If the North Koreans enter the room, they will not fire on us. They cannot risk hitting that bomb."
"What's going on?" Hiro's terrified voice asked. "Professor—"
"Abigail—" Callaghan started.
"Hush, all of you," Grace snapped. "You must be quiet. Do not speak, whatever happens, unless I tell you that we are safe."
The footsteps stopped outside the door, and Grace could hear two voices conversing in rapid Korean. It didn't take a genius to tell that they were discussing why the lock on the door had been compromised and who might have done such a thing.
The door opened, and Grace and Abigail held their breath.
"Who is in here?" said a cold, high voice, speaking in perfect English. "Come out now with your hands over your head. I am armed, and I have sent for reinforcements."
Grace closed her eyes, slipping into the past. She knew that voice.
"Come out," said the voice, "or I will come in. I know you are attempting to gather information about our arsenal, and I know who has sent you. You may as well show yourselves."
The spies did not move. The North Korean sighed, and the footsteps walked around the room, drawing closer and closer until North Korea's leader appeared from behind the curvature of the bomb.
"Hello, Professor," Obake said softly, and for a moment, Grace thought she could see a trace of sadness in his eyes.
"Bob," Grace replied, trying not to let her voice tremble. "Please. Do not do this. Give up this war. This will not change anything."
"My dear Professor Granville," Obake whispered, "you are mistaken. We both know that this will change everything."
"But it will not bring them back," Grace told him. "It will not right the wrongs done to you and your family. It will only create more pain and death, not just for America, but for your country as well. And I do not believe that you want your people to suffer."
"Of course I do not wish for such things," Obake assured her. "But I believe that sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. A better world for my people is the greater good—and so is avenging my family. I only wish to make things right, to do my parents, my sisters, and my country justice. Surely you can understand that, Professor."
Grace stared at the floor, unwilling to look her former student in the eyes. She could understand that—she'd wanted to avenge people before, wanted to have justice dispensed on those who did her wrong. She had wanted to kill Megan, for murdering her student in front of her. She had wanted to kill the North Koreans for taking over her country.
And she had wanted to kill herself, for doing this to Bob Aken. For making him into the man he was today.
"Bob," Grace whispered. "What happened that night—I am sorry. I cannot begin to express the grief your accident caused me. It is because of me that this war is ravaging the world."
"What happened that night," Obake countered, "was of no consequence. Professor, I never had brain damage, no matter what I may have led you to believe. It was simply a cover-up, a front for my true intentions. San Fransokyo was to become my base—our base. We would have ruled in peace, together, and our people would be safe."
"You and who else?" Abigail ventured, the first time she had spoken since Obake had entered the room.
This time, Grace was certain she could see sorrow in Obake's stormy gray eyes as he replied. "It could have been several people. It could have been you, Professor," he added. "I thought perhaps I could turn you to my cause. And it could have been Hiro—he had so much potential. But what I truly wanted was to share it with my sister. Her goal for the past nine years was to make everything right, to save her country and her family. I wanted Rinah to have that. I wanted our family to live in peace."
His voice cracked, and he stared at the ground. "That is the problem in war. We are all fighting for the same thing, but somehow we cannot agree on how to achieve it."
"Let us go, Bob," Grace pleaded. "Take your armies and leave, and perhaps we can reach an agreement."
"I can't," Obake whispered, his gaze hardening again. "You are preparing to destroy my country."
"We're not going to destroy your country," Abigail defended. "We're only trying to stop you from destroying ours."
"You do not understand," Obake told her. "I must destroy America. My parents died trying to save it, and my sisters were killed in the attempt to take over it. America has never done this world any good."
"And what has North Korea done?" Grace snapped. "Only threatened and terrorized other nations. We are fighting for the same thing, Bob, and our nations have similar flaws. Why not just give up the war? Fighting is not the way to achieve peace."
"Perhaps not for you," Obake said softly. "But for me, it is the only way."
Footsteps began to thunder down the hall, and Grace realized that Obake's reinforcements were arriving, coming to take her and Abigail away. They would most likely be executed, perhaps imprisoned if Obake could find it in himself to be kind like he used to.
Whatever happened, though, Grace could not let Obake discover that the rest of the resistance was listening, that they knew about the bombs. As North Korean guards streamed into the room, Grace reached into her helmet and yanked out the comm link earpiece, dropping it to the floor and crushing it under her heel. Beside her, Abigail did the same, then pulled a pocketknife out of her back pocket. Grace took this to mean that they weren't going down without a fight, and she supported that idea. She readied her heat ray, aiming her arm guard at the nearest soldier.
The guards lunged, and Grace fired the heat ray, causing several of them to stumble back, clutching burned arms or faces. She didn't want to kill anyone, but it was imperative that the heat ray be strong enough to do so, as it needed to be able to cut through any material. Still, she had it on a lower setting than normal—she only wanted to dissuade and intimidate the guards, not kill them.
Grace flicked out her wings, soaring up to the ceiling and aiming her heat ray at the thermonuclear bomb. Perhaps the North Koreans would let them go if there was danger of igniting the bomb—yes, their aim was to destroy America, but surely Obake wouldn't risk it with himself and most of his armies in the same building as the missile.
Obake, however, was not dissuaded. He pulled out a sleek silver rifle and raised it toward the sky, aiming it at Grace. She prepared to fire the heat ray, but the gun fired, and Obake's aim was perfect. The bullet hit Grace's arm guard, destroying the heat ray and sinking into her wrist.
Grace gasped and clutched her wounded arm to her chest, struggling to breathe through the pain. What could she do now? She had no weapon, no way to let Big Hero 6 know she needed backup. Abigail was fighting valiantly, but the guards had wrested her knife from her grasp, and Obake had taken the FlexiRex.
"Hyperspectual cameras?" he murmured, turning the little dinosaur over in his grasp. "I suppose your resistance is watching through them. Perhaps I will allow them to watch our…proceedings."
They were probably going to be executed, then. That wasn't good.
Grace tilted her wings and swooped down, aiming to grab Abigail and fly out the door, but Obake lifted his rifle again, and a loud bang echoed through the room.
Grace fell to the ground, realizing too late that the bullet had hit one of her thrusters. She and Abigail were out of firepower.
"Bring them to the dong-gul prison," Obake commanded, but Grace thought his voice was shaking. "We will take care of business there. The rest of you, spread out and search the city for Big Hero 6. They are a threat that must be terminated."
A soldier yanked Grace up and pulled her hands behind her back, locking them together with some kind of handcuffs. She heard Abigail gasp as the guards did the same to her, and then the spies were dragged out the door.
Grace fought her captors, kicking and struggling, but they were strong. Too strong. One of them cracked the butt of his rifle against the back of her head when she struggled, causing Grace to fall limp. It was no use—they'd be taken to the prison and most likely executed for spying on North Korea.
The soldiers hauled Grace and Abigail out to a fighter jet, and Obake climbed into the pilot's seat, taking off and flying over the city. Grace took as much of the view in as she could, knowing that this would probably be the last time she ever saw it. The crumbling skyline and murky bay looked, somehow, even more beautiful than they did when they were whole.
The jet flew over the woods, passing the bridge and the river. Finally, it touched down on a slab of rock jutting out from the side of the stony outcrop that housed Tsuki Cavern, and the North Koreans wrestled Grace and Abigail out of the jet.
As she was marched toward her doom, down through a tunnel in the rock, Grace comforted herself with the fact that she had at least gotten the information she had been sent to retrieve for the resistance. The mission was complete, and she had lived a good life. Maybe she wouldn't make it to the end of the war, but at least she'd be in a better place.
Grace and Abigail were dragged into Tsuki Cavern and made to stand against the wall as the guards yanked their armor off, throwing it to the floor—presumably to make them easier to shoot. Obake stood in front of them, holding the FlexiRex up, its cameras pointed toward the spies.
"Hello, Big Hero 6," Obake said softly. "Perhaps you wish to hear the last words of your spies, who have failed their mission. You should have learned by now that you cannot beat North Korea, my friends.
"Now," he continued, turning toward Grace and Abigail. "Do you have any last words you wish to say before you are terminated?"
"You'll never beat America," Abigail told Obake, her eyes narrowed in fury. "You'll never beat Big Hero 6—because God is on their side, Obake, not yours. You were never destined to win this war, and we are two more innocent souls that will keep you far away from heaven when it's over. I promise, Obake, you will regret this."
Grace waited a moment, and when it appeared that Abigail had finished, spoke.
"We are all fighting for the same cause," she declared. "We fight for the safety of our countries and families—all of us want the same thing. I hope that one day, we will be able to achieve what we desire. But until then, there must be war, because both our nations are too blind to see that fighting does not guarantee peace. Still, I will fight for peace. Let it be known that we fought until the very end."
"Brave words," Obake whispered. "But they will not save you, Professor. Farewell."
He leveled his rifle at Grace's chest, and his comrades took aim at the spies. Grace took a deep breath, bracing herself for the pain, the blood, the darkness. For death. At least it should be over quickly.
It wasn't nearly as bad as she expected. A flash of hot pain, a warm liquid spreading across her chest, shadows sliding into her vision as she dropped to the ground.
And then she was gone, flying toward the light.
—HIRO—
The FlexiRex's camera goes dark, and I stare at the black screen as a gunshot echoes through the room. Another immediately follows, and then all is silent.
"They're gone," Tadashi whispers. "And Obake's looking for us. What are we gonna do?"
His voice breaks, and my brother stumbles over to Fred's old chair, collapsing into it and burying his face in his hands. Momakase pulls GoGo's chair up next to Tadashi and wraps an arm around my brother's shoulders, whispering something into his ear that I can't hear.
"Abigail," Callaghan murmurs, his voice trembling. "My Abigail…"
Putting a hand to his forehead, he retreats down the hall, and I can hear muffled sobbing from what is probably the bathroom, then shouts of sorrow-filled fury, screamed into a towel or something similar.
Chief Cruz pulls Megan to his chest, stroking his daughter's hair, and Wasabi does the same to Honey as his girlfriend sobs. Liv and Krei both seem shocked, staring at each other with scared eyes.
As for me, all I can do is stare up at the black expanse of screen, my eyes wide and starting to fill with tears.
They're dead.
Granville and Abigail are dead.
And it's my fault. I suggested they go on the mission. I told them to look for the bombs. I knew it was a bad idea—I knew we shouldn't have taken the risk—and I still let them go.
This is all my fault. I did this. I sent them away, and now they'll never come back.
I pull off my helmet, which is connected to the comm link, and fling it down on the table, then stumble blindly into the bedroom and climb up to my bunk, throwing myself down on the bed and struggling to keep the tears back. It doesn't work, and soon I find myself soaking my pillow.
"Hey," comes Megan's soft voice, and I conclude that she must be standing on the ladder to my bunk. "Hiro, calm down. It's okay. You didn't do anything."
"It's my fault, Meg," I mumble into the pillow. "I gave them the idea, and now they're gone. I sent my professor and a woman I saved to their deaths, and now…"
I sit up, wiping my eyes. "Meg—I can't be the leader. I don't know how to lead a resistance, and I'm not good at planning or stealth or missions. All I've been able to do this whole time is think about how bad I am at being a leader and make decisions that send people to their deaths. Meg, please, please take the post back. I don't want to do this. I can't do this. I can be the leader of Big Hero 6, but not the resistance—because this is all my fault, Meg, and I can't—I can't forgive myself—"
I can't help it. I dissolve into a fresh wave of sobs, and Meg scrambles onto the bed next to me. "Hiro, calm down! It's not your fault! Seriously, it's okay! You had no idea what would happen, and it was a risk we had to take. Now we know where the bombs are, and we can take them out without risking blowing up the city."
"But we lost two people," I whisper. "Granville and Abigail died for this. We shouldn't have to risk people's lives just to get information."
"This is war, Hiro," Meg says firmly, putting her hands on my shoulders. "There are never no risks."
"I can't make people take them," I mumble, sniffling a little. "Meg, I don't think I can be the leader. The resistance doesn't need me. It needs you. Please, Meg, take the position back."
"You're sure?" Megan asks.
"I'm sure," I tell her. "You can do this a lot better than I can."
"Then I'll try," Meg whispers. "But I still need you to be my second in command. I don't want anyone else for that position."
"I'll do that for as long as you need me to," I reassure her. "That was my plan from the beginning."
Megan smiles as she climbs back onto the ladder. "Thanks, Hiro. I couldn't have asked for a better second in command—or a better friend. Or a better boyfriend."
She leans forward and gently kisses my cheek, then retreats down the ladder, her footsteps fading away down the hall.
I lay down again, burying my face in my pillow and letting the rest of the tears flow out. I'll probably cry more later, especially since now we're gonna have to do another funeral, but I think that's all for now.
When I'm finally done crying, I realize I'm exhausted. I've been a lot more tired than normal during the war, which I guess is a result of running for my life for over a month. It seems like it's been much longer than that, but at my last count, the war has lasted only about forty-three days since it came to San Fransokyo.
I close my eyes and curl into a little ball, then hear a loud meow from below. It startles me, and I nearly fall off the bunk before remembering that Mochi is here. I haven't been paying attention to him at all since the Lucky Cat burned down—I guess the others have been taking care of him, moving him from Muirahara to Basemax and keeping him out of danger.
"Sorry, Mochi," I mumble as I climb down, scoop up the cat, and place him on the bed, then climb back up. Curling up again, I pull the covers up to my chin and allow Mochi to snuggle into the crook of my arm. His presence is warm and comforting, almost making it feel like home.
I miss home.
Thankfully, I don't sleep for that long, just a couple hours instead of the full-day siestas I keep having. When I wake up, Mochi has made himself comfortable on top of my head, his whiskers tickling my cheek. He's done that ever since I can remember—I wonder what's so interesting about my head. It must be the endless supply of hair—I don't think I've cut it for at least a year.
I carefully shove Mochi off of me and sit up, feeling a lot better after my nap. Still not so great emotionally, but better physically, and feeling a little less ready to beat myself up over the spy mission. Maybe I can forgive myself eventually—it'll take time, but all the scars left from this war will take a while to heal, both the physical and mental ones.
I look down at the gash on my palm, realizing that it's actually healing fairly quickly. Tadashi took the sutures out a few days ago, and the skin isn't inflamed anymore. It'll definitely leave a scar, probably a big one, but at least it'll heal. Still, I'll have something to remember the war by. Not that I want it, but it's not like it'll ever really go away.
The still-sutured cut on my upper arm is smaller, shallower, and healing more quickly than the cut on my palm. It might leave a scar, but it'll be a small one. My wrist is still braced, I realize—now that I think about it, it's only been a few weeks since the bombing, so it's probably only partially healed. Hopefully I can get the brace taken off soon, though.
I'm a lot more scarred than I thought I was—two sets of stitches and a broken wrist. There's undoubtedly gonna be more trauma before this war's over, but I resolve not to let it break me. I'm gonna keep fighting until the end, even if it kills me, just like Professor Granville said. I need to live up to her legacy—and to the legacies of everyone that's been killed during this war. I owe that much to them.
Wow, I'm being really deep today. Must be the constant danger and running for my life.
I drag myself out of bed and head back into the main room, where Meg looks like she's preparing to address the resistance. Most of the others, except Callaghan, are seated around the table. I hope the professor is okay—he's probably really upset about Abigail. I know I would be.
"Hey, Hiro," Megan greets me. "We're gonna have a meeting—we need to work out a plan for the funeral and for what we're gonna do next. Honestly, I'm kinda thinking we should have a memorial service for everyone at the end of the war, so we don't keep having depressing funerals. Does anyone know where Professor Callaghan went?"
"I think he went outside," Tadashi tells her, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. "I can go get him if you want."
Meg nods, and Tadashi stands up, leaving out the back door. It's a few minutes before he returns, saying, "He says he doesn't want to come right now. We can start."
"Okay, then," Megan begins. "I don't wanna be insensitive—I know we just lost two people—but we really need to keep working. We'll do a memorial after the meeting's done."
She takes a deep breath. "You guys, we know where North Korea's bombs are now. We can attack KreiTech and get them out as soon as Silent Sparrow is done. Guys, we're so close. We can end this war—we've got the portal, we've got the information, and we've got the weapons. If we can get the bombs out, North Korea can't attack anyone."
"But we can't risk sending someone into a North Korean base again," Tadashi whispers. "Obake is looking for us, and it'll be almost impossible to hide a portal while we sneak it into KreiTech. Whoever's going on the mission would have to be okay with it ending in death."
"Tadashi is correct," Momokase adds. "It would almost certainly be a suicide mission, especially if something were to go wrong. If a single missile is set off, the whole building could explode—which would not only kill all the North Koreans, but us as well. We cannot take that kind of risk."
"But if we don't, who will?" Megan argues. "No one else knows where the bombs are! No one else has a portal to get them out! We're the only ones that can end this war, you guys, and if we have to die to do it, then too bad!"
Everyone stares at her, wide-eyed. She's right, but that doesn't mean we have to like it.
"So," Meg continues, her expression hard as flint. "Who's gonna go?"
"I will," I mumble, and Tadashi's gaze snaps toward me. "Hiro, no!"
"I'm the one that told Professor Granville and Abigail to go on the spy mission," I argue. "It's my fault they're dead. I should've been a better weapons designer, and a better leader. I'll go. It doesn't matter if I die, so long as the war's over."
"No," comes a new voice, and I turn to see Professor Callaghan standing in the hallway, his gaze hardened in determination. "I'll do it. I've lived a longer life than you, Hiro, and I have no one that will miss me if I'm killed. At least I'll be with Abigail again."
"Professor—" Wasabi starts.
Callaghan holds up a hand. "I'll do it. I've operated Silent Sparrow and the microbots before, and I know how to transport it. Please, Megan, let me go. I have to do this—for my country, and for Abigail."
"You're really sure?" Meg asks. "You know, you could die. There's a pretty high chance you won't make it back."
Callaghan nods. "I'm sure."
"Then you'll be our operative," Meg tells him. "Silent Sparrow will be done in a few days—right, Hiro?"
I nod. "I'm about halfway there, but if I make more every day—and take less naps—I can finish it soon. We've just gotta stay away from Obake until it's done."
"We'll work out some kind of invisibility mechanism for the portal," Meg decides. "This mission will work, you guys. I promise."
I have no doubt that it'll work, but I'm scared. We're at risk of losing someone else, and I can't deal with that kind of thing anymore. We've already lost so many people—Aunt Cass, Fred, GoGo, Abigail, Professor Granville. I don't want to have to add Callaghan to the total.
Is this really the only way? Is the end of the war worth countless human lives?
Is there any way to have peace without people giving their lives for it?
Because if there isn't, then I don't know if it's really worth it.