Summer is the first through the portal.
“Deploying drones,” she reports. Numerous small units detach from her sleek jet, taking up a position in the skies around La Londe-les-Maures. Their role is to scan their surroundings, map out terrain, and - most importantly - look for heat signatures via thermal imaging. People are already being escorted out of the area by the French emergency services. It’s Summer’s job to help find anyone they missed.
Big Bill is next through the gate, followed closely by Otto and Mo.
“I’m integrating our data with the feed from the French authorities,” Aria reports. “The creature is following a particular path. Otto, I assume you want the Sled deployed outside of that track?”
“Yeah, we’ll wait until we have a clear spot,” Otto confirms.
Summer draws the Chariot into a high-wide arc around the battlefield, and surveys the damage that’s already been done.
She can see a clear track from the ocean. The beast’s ponderous paws have smashed cars, left indentations in roads, and splintered trees. It’s walked blithely through power and phone lines, thus cutting off services to whole sections of the nearby town.
“We probably don’t want to put the Sled near the water,” she observes. “If we want to drive it anywhere, it’s back into the ocean.”
“Agreed,” Otto says. “Aria, what do the French need most right now?”
There’s a pause while Aria consults. “Cell towers are down,” she says at last. “Ground-based radios are hampered by the hilly terrain. Big Bill, do you have enough kit on board to act as an airborne radio relay?”
“Sure do, ma’am!” the cowboy plane reports.
“I’ve got heat signatures!” Summer reports excitedly. “Humanoid. Not moving.” The Chariot transmits the relevant data into the network.
“Mo, check 'em out,” Otto orders.
“WIlco.”
Mo finds two children worriedly crouched over their mother, who’s been struck by a flying fragment of tree. It’s not pinning her down, but it’s nearby, and it’s clear from the scene what happened.
“ASIST translation, French and English,” he mutters into his communication system.
“Online,” says the translator after a moment.
He approaches in his human shell, the vehicle parked a short distance away so as to not alarm them. “Hey,” he says. A comforting French greeting comes out, and the children turn.
Both of them start babbling, and comprehending it is complicated by tears. Mo holds up his hands, crouching down to their level. “Hey. I’m here to help. One at a time.”
The translator renders this into French, and this is enough to get them to calm down. There’s an older girl and a younger boy. The girl explains, and Mo gets the English version. “Mother was struck. We don’t know what to do.”
“We’re gonna get her into the van there,” says Mo softly. “Listen to me. You’ve done everything right. You’re gonna stay with her and keep her safe. Okay?”
The translation comes out, and the girl nods. The boy wipes his face with a sleeve and nods too.
Mo retrieves a Gurney Halleck from the back of his van. The device itself is a very specialized form of Summer’s drones - it can float and project a hard-light surface, thus acting as a gurney, and references the force-shield-using warrior from the “Dune” books. Carefully, he places it under the mother and energizes. The screen spreads out from the device itself, supporting the woman’s weight without shifting her body, just in case of spinal damage, bleeding, broken bones, or other reasons not to manipulate her too much.
“All aboard,” he says to the kids, gesturing at the back of the van. The Gurney Halleck floats inside, and the kids follow and take seats.
The translator provides an English rendition of the girl’s last words before Mo closes the door. “Will she be okay, sir?”
Mo can’t promise that. Instead, he gives them a heads up. “We’re going to be flying. So strap in.”
The team put the Sled down in the safest place they could find - on the eastern side of the hills, east of the town. It’ll act as a mobile hospital.
The problem is, the SMUR ambulances can’t get through to it - one particular stretch of road has been blocked by a landslide caused by Titalion’s passage. Otto is knocking away what he can, grappling and dragging chunks of rock, and otherwise clearing a path, when the call comes in.
“The French and EU teams are organizing their counter-strike,” Aria reports. “They hope this’ll drive Titalion back. Is the path clear?”
“Getting there,” Otto reports. “Thermal scans are looking good. Summer’s been scouting the buildings and found a couple people, but they’re being evacuated now. Let’s call it three minutes.”
“Roger,” Aria says. “The hero in charge, Charles the Hammer, wants in on our comms. Your call.”
Otto thinks about it. “Long as he shuts up when we need to talk, I’m okay. He speak English?”
“We’ll find out,” Aria says. There’s a pause, and an imperious voice makes itself heard. “Monsieur Newman, your rescue effort is appreciated. Please remove yourselves with dispatch from the path to the ocean.”
“Received and will comply,” Otto says. “You heard the man, gang. Unless there’s anyone to evacuate, get clear.”
“Clear,” responds Mo.
Summer chimes in. “Climbing to 10,000 feet. Clear.”
Big Bill is last to report. “I’m evacuating folks off the Sled to a hospital, but I’m clear.”
With their rescue duties momentarily suspended, the team is able to focus on the actual monster. It’s like a four-legged lizard with a cat’s hind haunches, with a lion’s head and a snake’s jaw. They can still see the swarms of superheroes darting about it. So far the beast seems unconcerned with their presence.
But now something new is happening. Several of the heroes are coordinating a build-up of energy. They’re aiming at Titalion’s left ear. At first it’s not clear why. Then Summer realizes. The sense of balance is maintained by mechanisms in the ear. They want to make it dizzy, maybe enough to collapse. If it gets irritated by that, it’ll either follow the irritant - the supers, who then fly to the ocean - or it’ll retreat from it - back to the ocean.
From her vantage point high in the sky, Summer can see the blast. It causes Titalion to wobble. She sees its left feet automatically cross its right, as it staggers. And she can see the land around it shake as the beast falls on its side.
There’s general cheering over the communications system.
Titalion shakes its shaggy head, the way Summer has seen a cat do. Its forelimbs slam into the ground, creating a tremor, as it struggles to rise. And then it inhales. And as it does, Summer notices two alarming things.
The first is that its jaw is unhinging and that there is a distinctive white glow coming from it, as though energy were building up.
The second is that as Titalion inhales, it grows. Its entire body is enlarging, a dozen meters of height with every inhalation.
The mega-beam that emerges from its mouth burns a hole through the clouds. Thank all the gods that it was aimed upward! But it does cause the flying superheroes to scatter in a panic.
Titalion rises. Its head turns, seemingly slowly but only because of its vast size. It’s seeking the flying supers. The arc of the traversal will cross the town.
Summer gets on comms, urgently recalling her drones, punching buttons, operating controls inside the Chariot, preparing. “Leo, Aria, launch Apollo now!”
Otto comes on the comms. “Summer, no, we talked about–”
“Otto, trust me!” Summer shouts. She doesn’t have time to explain. She may not even have time to set up everything she needs.
“I can’t authorize the weapon in an area full of civilians–”
“OTTO!” screams Summer. “LAUNCH IT!”