“Toys”
Six Months Ago Vernon Questor looked up as Mark Dayton walked into his office. He fought back a smile. It was good working with his former boss Steve Dayton again, even if it was only Dayton’s mind in another body.* (*It happened in Titans West #47 – db) “I’ve got an idea I wanted to run past you,” Dayton said. Questor motioned for him to proceed. “You know that one of Questcorp’s recent acquisitions also included the old Schott Toys brand,” Dayton said. “Of course,” Questor said. “I must admit, however, I was thinking about letting that brand lie idle. Ever since Winslow Schott began his life of crime, it simply seems like the brand name is worthless.” “But think of what the brand used to represent,” Dayton insisted. “I think that I’ve found the man who could turn the name around and make it respectable again.” Dayton slid a folder across Questor’s desk and took a seat in front of the desk. Questor opened the folder to discover a photo of a young Japanese man smiling back at him. “His name is Hiro Okamura,” Dayton explained. “He’s the hottest toy designer in Japan right now. They say that there’s not a kid in Japan who doesn’t have one of his toys.” “Interesting,” Questor said. “But would he agree to work in the United States?” “I’ve already done a little checking,” Dayton said. “He’s a dual American-Japanese citizen. He was born here to Japanese parents, so there wouldn’t be any problems with visas or Immigration. Plus, I understand that Wayne Enterprises just had a meeting with him and did not offer him any sort of deal.” “Interesting,” Questor said. “I wonder why not.” “Maybe Bruce Wayne doesn’t want his company making toys,” Dayton said. “But we have the old Schott factory and name, and I believe that the right person could help reinvigorate the brand.” Questor thought a moment. “When can you arrange to meet him?” he asked. Dayton smiled. “There’s a toy convention in New York this week. I’ve got an invitation for a black-tie owners and CEOs only affair. If I can borrow Ms. Simms, we can `accidentally’ encounter him there.” “Good,” Questor said. “Do what you think necessary. You know I trust your judgment.” “Of course you do,” Dayton said as he stood. He smiled. “Otherwise I would have fired you a long time ago.” Questor also smiled at the private joke as Dayton left his office. Sarah Simms fought back nervousness as she looked around the room. Everywhere she looked there was nothing but executives. Despite the new designer gown she was wearing, she still felt out of place. “Do you see him?” she whispered. “I do,” Dayton said with a smile. “Come with me and we’ll feel him out.” “I’m kind of nervous about this,” Sarah admitted. “Don’t worry,” Dayton said as they started across the room. “You used to date Cyborg. I’m sure that you saw worse things than a corporate cocktail party.” Hiro stood on the balcony. He was looking out at an overgrown deserted island. Sarah’s breath briefly caught as she realized that it was Titans’ Island. “Mr. Okamura?” Dayton asked as he stepped forward with his hand extended. “I’m Mark Dayton with Questcorp.” “Yes, Mr. Dayton,” Hiro said with a shy smile. “I am familiar with your company’s work.” “This is my associate Sarah Simms,” Dayton said. “I’m going to get some drinks,” Sarah said. “Can I get something for you?” “No,” Hiro said. “My father deeply disapproved of drinking.” He held his glass up. “This is ginger ale.” As Sarah excused herself, Dayton began outlining their plans to Hiro. Hiro didn’t even notice when she brought Dayton his drink and vanished back into the crowd. Finally he looked at Dayton. “Would it be permissible for me to see the factory before I accept or decline your offer?” “Of course,” Dayton said. They agreed to meet at the old plant the next day. Dayton was nervous as the plant’s security officer unlocked the front doors and let them inside. As the lights came on, Dayton winced inwardly. Paint was peeling and the equipment (all long outdated by now) was covered by a thick layer of dust. Only about half of the lights were working and the floor was also covered by rodent droppings. Hiro didn’t appear to notice. Unfazed, he walked inside and looked around. He turned to the security guard and said, “Take me through the facility. Describe it as it was when it was in operation.” The guard walked beside Hiro and they began walking through the plant. “Very impressive,” Questor noted. “So Mr. Okamura agreed?” “Yes,” Dayton said. “I’ve assured him that Questcorp has already committed a large sum toward modernizing and repairing the factory under his specifications. I also offered to give him credit for the toys on the packages but he declined.” Dayton paused a moment. “His only stipulation was that he be allowed to live in Schott’s old apartment inside the facility. He said that he works best when he’s surrounded by his work.” “Very good,” Questor said. “I look forward to seeing what comes of this.” Days later, Hiro was unpacking when his cell phone buzzed. He picked it up and hearing what the security guard said caused his eyes to widen. “I’m on my way,” he said, rushing out of the apartment. He stopped at the main doors of the factory. The workers were all outside, where the security guard was talking with Superman. Hiro walked forward, introduced himself, and shook Superman’s hand. “I understand that you’re reopening this plant,” Superman said. “I’m not sure that’s safe. Given what I know about the place’s former owner, I’m afraid there may be something hazardous in here.” “Please come in,” Hiro invited. “If it would ease your mind, feel free to look around. Go anywhere you like. We have nothing to hide.” “Thank you,” Superman said. He walked inside and began inspecting the building with his vision powers. Hiro was right behind him. “There’s a lot of lead in these walls,” Superman noted. “This is an old building,” Hiro explained. “I would not be surprised to find that all of these walls were originally painted with lead paint.” Superman nodded. “I don’t see anything,” he finally concluded. “But I still don’t like all the lead in those walls.” “I’m sure it’s fine,” Hiro reassured him as they started back toward the entrance. “Still, you have my word that if we do uncover anything odd, we will contact you immediately. How may we reach you?” “Contact Inspector Henderson with the Metropolis police,” Superman said. “He can reach me at any time of the day.” “Thank you.” Hiro studied Superman a moment. “One day you must let me take some photos of you. I would love to make an action figure of you.” “I’m flattered, but I don’t license my likeness out for profit,” Superman said with a smile. “I would be willing to donate all the proceeds to any charity of your choice,” Hiro said. “Even if you do not want those made, I would be willing to create a figure for your personal collection.” “We’ll see,” Superman finally conceded. “I need to go right now. Like I said, call Inspector Henderson immediately if you encounter anything out of the ordinary.” Hiro waved as Superman launched into flight and flew away. Superman’s flight didn’t go all that far, however. His super-hearing picked up a familiar heartbeat. “I thought bats didn’t come out in the day,” he said as he lowered himself behind a tree. Batman was perched on a ledge, studying the Schott factory. “Very funny,” Batman replied. Superman’s smile faded. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I’ve met with Okamura,” Batman said. “I decided not to deal with him. There was something there. Something wrong that I can’t put my finger on.” Superman’s face grew concerned. “I just checked over the factory. It’s clean.” “For now,” Batman said. “I’d keep an eye on him if I were you. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something wrong there.” Superman nodded slowly as Batman returned to his surveillance. Later that night, Hiro stirred in his bedroom. He climbed out of bed and stripped off his silk pajamas. He carefully arranged the pajamas in the bed, then pulled the covers up over them. He bent over and gently kissed the pillow where his cheek had been laying. “Good night, Hiro,” he said softly. “Be a good boy for Father.” That done, he straightened and looked around his room. Naked, he padded across the floor to one of the leaded walls Superman had detected and pushed precisely on one brick. In response, a hidden doorway silently slid open. It closed again once he was inside. As soon as the doors closed, lights flickered to life. This was Hiro’s private workroom. His gaze fell on the workbench and focused on what sat upon it – a small brown monkey holding two brass cymbals. Despite himself, his breath quickened as he approached the bench. He stopped a few steps away from the bench and looked down. He smiled as he realized that his body had responded the same way it always did when he saw one of his toys. Oh, not the soulless chunks of plastic he designed to be sold on toy store shelves. No. This love was only for his personal toys - the ones no one else was ever allowed to play with. They were the ones that he had designed and built with his own two hands. He looked behind the bench. There was a large painting of the former owner of the factory – Winslow Schott. Schott was dressed in a blue and pink striped coat with a large bow tie. His smile radiated love for all children. The painting had once hung inside the factory, until Schott’s factory had been bought and closed down. In response, Schott had become the Superman foe known as the Toyman who sought revenge on all those who had wronged him. Hiro smiled as he looked at the painting. “I’m coming, Father,” he said to the painting. To Be Continued in Superman #10 Previous Issue | Next Issue |
