She-What’s dreadnought airship

begins to decelerate

as it approaches the Free City.

The heavily-armed aircraft

lurches in the air

like a gigantic stone

expert in flight.

As large as the airship is,

it is just a speck

compared to the size

of the megalopolis,

which stretches across

the dead landscape

like a palimpsest

of technological ages,

as tall as it is wide,

the spectacle of its electric light

a din of color

beneath the dark gaze

of the sky.

She-What showers,

puts her hair up,

and dresses in a high-fashion black suit.

She tenderly wraps

a necklace her father gave her

around her neck.

Chys’s voice comes over the intercom —

“Seven minutes to docking.”

“Okay,” She-What replies.

She puts on designer shoes

she picked up at the Denappian Bazaar,

and then applies her makeup.

The airship docks.

There is a loud “CLUNK!”

as the docking locks shut

and the ship is braced.

Its engines go into idle.

Finally,

She-What takes her pills,

a panoply of drugs

to both stimulate and control

her body.

After riding the turbotube

down to the bottom

of the ship,

She-What meets Chys

and they pass through

the main blast door.

Standing on the dock

is Secretary Fumeo

and his majordomo

and bodyguard,

Sato the Malfunctioned,

an old clone

with suspicious eyes

and a gambling addiction.

Fumeo has squeezed his obese body

into a shape-sculpting suit

that makes him look like

a trapezoid about to explode.

“My ladies,” Fumeo says

as She-What and Chys

emerge from the airship’s bowels.

“There is not a day that goes by

that I am not astonished

by your beauty.”

“Good morning, Secretary.”

She-What has nothing but disgust

for Fumeo,

but he does keep the corporation

purring.

“I have a car prepared to take us

to Thunder Tower,”

says Fumeo.

“Excellent,”

says She-What.

“I have been told...”

says Fumeo,

“That your mission was...

unsuccessful?”

She-What rolls her eyes.

“Someone ratted us out,”

she replies.

“They knew we were coming.”

“Oh dear,” says Fumeo.

“The Supreme Executive

will be disappointed.”

“It’s not our fault!” Chys exclaims.

“One of your people is a traitor.”

The animosity

between Chys and Secretary Fumeo

is legendary —

rumor has it

that he once released

nude holograms of her

to the media,

and that in response,

she killed

one of his prized Astani Sheep Dogs,

leaving its skinned corpse

on his desk.

“Well,” says Fumeo,

“Regardless,

I hope the Supreme Executive

isn’t too dismayed

by your failure.”

She-What feels

electricity and heat

emanating from her Rainbow Sword —

it is obviously enraged,

and hungry for Fumeo’s blood.

“What I mean,”

says Fumeo, noticing

the Rainbow Sword’s excitement,

“Is that I hope the Supreme Executive

isn’t disappointed.”

He gestures at the car ahead of them.

“Our chariot, ladies.”

They step into the floating car,

and take their seats

in the expensively upholstered interior.

The car lifts up soundlessly,

and glides away from the docks

and towards the Corporate District.

The day is just getting started

in the black morning,

and the lights of cars and skytrains

zip across the city

amid the blinking, holographic billboards

and immense, glowing

corporate logos.

Chys nudges She-What with her elbow.

“Good to be home, huh boss?”

The Free City

is the center of all civilization

in the Black Hemisphere,

standing alone against

the bastion of apocalypse

like a mythical warrior.

She-What stares out the window,

the cacophonous light of the city

flashing in her eyes.

She is glad to be home.

But questions rush around her

like dangerous water.

Why did the Supreme Executive

send her out to Aegerlünd?

Who is this boy?

Our eyes watch

as She-What’s perplexed face

disappears amongst the complexities

of the megalopolis.

Soon enough,

she will see the Supreme Executive.

Soon enough,

she will see her father.

to be continued....