Ultimate Warriors

by Jaide Fox

  That embarrassing incident was rarely spoken of. But recently Clark had uncovered an interesting addendum to the story.

  Using his laptop for a launching pad, he shot his mind through the wireless link to the HI mainframe, racing along a complex web of pathways. He ricocheted into the database, plunging deep until he’d found the snippet of information he sought.

  When he had it, he stood and waved one arm at The Captain.

  "Yes, Clark?"

  Clark pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Sir, I believe I have our answer."

  * * * *

  Thursday, 1:02 a.m.

  Two days, twenty-two hours, fifty-eight minutes, and counting...

  When it’s too late for dinner and too early for breakfast, the only possible meal is ice cream.

  Blossom snagged a quart of mint chocolate chip from the freezer. Tucking her feet beneath her on the couch, she hit the play button on the remote and settled in. The familiar intro music crooned. She dug her spoon into the cold, sweet cream and sighed with pleasure.

  Faster than a speeding bullet... More powerful than a locomotive...

  She looked over at the aquarium. Lois and Jimmy, the twin goldfish she’d won at the MPI Spring Fair, waved their fins at her. As if to say "Get a life."

  Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound...

  Okay, maybe it was pathetic to spend the wee hours of the morning curled up on the couch watching 1950s Superman TV episodes, but hey, everyone had to have a hobby, right?

  Look, there in the sky... It’s a bird... It’s a plane...

  Blossom spooned the ice cream into her mouth and let it melt on her tongue. Aaaah.

  It’s Superman!

  The episode was one of her favorites--#24, Crime Wave, in which Superman fights a mysterious rash of crime sweeping Metropolis, only to be nearly done in by atomic rays. So, okay, it was a bit corny, but satisfying nonetheless. Superman rocked.

  He graced her walls in endless poses, both animated and via the actors lucky enough to portray the Man of Steel in TV and film. Superman’s chiseled jaw, bulging biceps, and cute forehead curl greeted her at every turn. She’d spent literally thousands of dollars on Superman collectibles.

  She refused to apologize for what some people might term an obsession. So what if she had to eat spaghetti every night for a month to afford her latest purchase?

  When you spent your life surrounded by wimpy geeks, you did what you could to survive.

  * * * *

  Thursday, 1:32 a.m.

  Two days, twenty-two hours, twenty-eight minutes, and counting...

  "She’s what?" Captain Marvelous asked.

  "Half-human, half-superheroine," Clark explained patiently.

  "Then why don’t we know about her?" Bruce demanded. "Every superhero offspring is supposed to be evaluated for superpowers at puberty."

  "Well, usually that’s true, but this is a special case," Clark said. "Blossom Breeze was born after The Disappearing Man’s fatal accident. With all the confusion and embarrassment following that event, she was never registered in the HI database. I only stumbled across her birth records last month, when I hacked into Megalopolis General during the Dr. Squid incident. I made a note to check it out, but we’ve been so busy lately, I forgot."

  "You forgot," Bruce sneered. "Isn’t that special. What if I’d forgotten to stop city bus #64 from plowing into that Girl Scout troop last week?"

  The Captain shot Bruce a quelling look. "Are you sure The Disappearing Man is Blossom’s father?" he asked Clark.

  "Positive," Clark said. "His name is on her birth certificate. If she’s inherited his teleportation powers, it would be a snap for her to get me into Lex’s lair in time to defuse the bomb."

  He called up a picture of Blossom on his computer. Bruce, Diana, and the Captain all crowded around the laptop for a better look.

  "Nice," said Bruce, letting a low whistle escape between his perfect teeth. "Very nice."

  Diana elbowed him in the side.

  "But not my type," he added hastily. "Too girl next door."

  Clark looked at the picture. "Girl next door" described Blossom perfectly. No one would call her beautiful--not by a long shot. She was cute, with short red hair and lots of freckles dancing across her nose. Her lips quirked, as if smiling at some secret joke. He found himself wondering if she was as fun to be with as she looked.

  Diana flipped a strand of long, bouncy hair over one bare shoulder. "She’s twenty-four years old. Superpowers appear at puberty. If she could teleport, we would know."

  "Not necessarily," Clark said. "Not if she kept the talent to herself. Remember, she knows nothing about us. She’s a Ph.D. candidate at Megalopolis Polytech."

  "We must investigate at once," said Captain Marvelous. "The fate of the world depends upon it." He scanned the room. "I’ll need one HI operative to travel to Megalopolis to assess the situation."

  Of course, Bruce volunteered first. "I’ll do it."

  Like hell he would. Clark had been itching for an excuse to get out of Newark for months. He sent another glance toward Blossom’s picture. No way was he going to let Bruce muscle in on this assignment.

  "This one’s mine," he said quietly. "After all, Lex Loser is my nemesis."

  Bruce started to protest, but The Captain held up one hand. "I agree Clark’s the hero for the job, Bruce, and not only because of Lex. Blossom Breeze, despite her parentage, is living an average life as an average human woman. She could very well faint dead away if a magnificent, larger-than-life superhero showed up on her doorstep." He stroked the cleft in his chiseled chin.

  "But Clark should do just fine."

  Chapter Three

  Thursday, 2:46 p.m.

  Two days, nine hours, fourteen minutes, and counting...

  "Mind if I sit here?"

  Blossom looked up from her book, only to find that the geeks of Megalopolis were not confined to the boundaries of the MPI computer lab. Apparently, they frequented the library, too. Geez. Where did the guy get those black horn rimmed glasses--the family planning aisle of the drug store? She was pretty sure their effectiveness as birth control surpassed The Pill.

  "Suit yourself," she said, and returned to her book, The Science of Superheroes.

  The geek set his laptop case on the floor and took the seat across the table from her. He opened a large tome and started reading. Blossom turned her shoulder a little, in case he had any ideas about talking to her. It wasn’t vanity on her part. His book, An Annotated History of Welding, was upside down.

  Unfortunately, her subtle hint didn’t work. Subtle never worked with geeks.

  "That looks like an interesting book," he said.

  "Hmm." She turned a little more, taking The Science of Superheroes with her.

  "Is there any special reason why you’re reading it?"

  She looked over at him. "I like superheroes."

  For some reason, that seemed to encourage him. "Do you believe they’re real?" His dark eyes regarded her seriously from behind Coke bottle lenses. He probably wouldn’t look too bad if he got contacts, she decided.

  "Do you?" he said again.

  "Do I what?"

  "Think superheroes are real?"

  "Yeah, right," she said, and went back to reading.

  The geek slipped off his chair, rounded the table, and took the seat to her right. Someone should really tell this guy that the top button on a button-down shirt was meant to be left open. Not her, though.

  "I mean it," he said, drawing her attention back to him with a low, rich voice that seemed totally at odds with his persona. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her.

  "Did you ever imagine what it would be like if superheroes really existed?" he asked.

  Did she ever. She thought about it every night in bed. But those kinds of thoughts weren’t something a girl shared with a cute, geeky stranger. Or even a best girlfriend, for that matter.

  "I guess there’d be less crime," she said.
r />   "Maybe there is less crime."

  "What’s that supposed to mean?"

  He took a deep breath. A springy lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead.

  Cute, she thought. Then she remembered the laptop. Geeky.

  "Maybe there would be more crime if there weren’t superheroes," he said.

  Say again? "Yeah," she said. "Maybe." Not.

  "I know you’ve always felt different," he said.

  She gave him her best frown. What was this guy talking about? He looked harmless enough, but... She scooted her chair a couple inches back from the table, just in case she had to make a run for it.

  "It can be frightening to discover you have a superpower. Especially if you’re just a teenager, and there’s no one around to guide you."

  Yep. Certifiable. Did she know how to attract them, or what? She closed The Science of Superheroes with a thud.

  "Oh, would you look at the time," she said. "I’ve got to go."

  His hand settled on her arm. "You don’t have to pretend with me."

  She jumped back, nearly knocking her chair over in her haste. The librarian sent her a disapproving glare.

  "Look," she whispered to the geek. "I don’t know who you are or what you think you know about me, but I’m warning you. Stay away from me or next time I’ll call the cops."

  * * * *

  Thursday, 2:55 p.m.

  Two days, nine hours, five minutes, and counting...

  Well, that didn’t go over quite the way he’d planned.

  Clark stared morosely at the door through which Blossom Breeze had fled. Smooth one, Geek Man. He gave a heavy sigh. Either Blossom was hiding her superpower, or her human genes had proved dominant and she was just your everyday, average, appealing-as-all-hell woman.

  He let his mind wander a bit on that one. Blossom didn’t have Diana’s curves or cup size, but when she’d blinked up at him with those big blue eyes he’d felt it like a sucker punch to the gut. He’d experienced a sudden urge to sift his fingers through her sassy red hair and plant a kiss on her lush pink lips.

  She said she liked superheroes, right?

  Well, he was a superhero, wasn’t he?

  Of course, she’d never guess it. Which was exactly why the Captain had sent him on this mission. A mission he might have already blown with his bungling attempt at contact. Clark gave an inward groan. Bruce would have come up with a suave opening line. Bruce would have been on his way home with Blossom right now.

  He stared at her vacated chair. Something caught his eye, and he leaned forward. A single strand of red hair clung to the chair’s upholstered back. He lifted it carefully.

  Just what he needed to determine whether this trip to Megalopolis was humanity’s best hope for survival or a complete waste of time.

  Returning to his original seat, he shoved An Annotated History of Welding to one side and hefted his laptop case onto the desk. In a few moments, he’d powered up his computer and enabled the genetic testing program. He attached the sensor wand to the USB port. Then he ran the tip over Blossom’s fiery strand of hair.

  He watched as the string of genetic code scrolled up the screen faster than the human eye could read. Clark, thanks to his psychic computer superpowers, had no trouble following the analysis. As the lines of coded numbers streamed by, his excitement built. Blossom’s super genes were no match for her human mother’s contribution to her DNA.

  She was most definitely a superheroine.

  Yes!

  "Young man, keep it down!" The librarian looked ready to kill.

  Clark gave her a guilty glance. Had he shouted out loud? "Yes, ma’am." He took a calming breath and sank his mind into the readout.

  Wait one minute. Something wasn’t quite right. Yes, Blossom carried the gene for teleportation, but for some reason it didn’t seem active. Currently, she couldn’t change locations with a thought, taking whomever she touched with her.

  Stomach churning, Clark launched another sequence of programs, further refining the genetic investigation.

  Two-point-seven minutes later, he broke out in a cold sweat. According to his analysis, Blossom carried a rare genetic mutation that had prevented her superpower from manifesting with the first influx of puberty hormones, as was typical with super offspring. In her case, a more specialized hormone surge was needed to trigger the transformation.

  Clark looked at his watch. Noon. Two days, twelve hours, and counting. Time to check in with HI headquarters. He opened a Velcro pocket on his laptop case and pulled out his cell. He punched in the Captain’s private number.

  "What’s the word, Clark? Can humanity be saved?"

  Briefly, Clark summarized his unexpected discovery. "All we have to do is initiate the specialized hormone flux and Blossom’s superpower will manifest."

  "How do we do that?"

  Was it getting hot in here? Clark inserted his index finger into the collar of his shirt and tugged. "Well, Captain, the only way the precise combination of hormones can be released is..." He paused to take a deep breath.

  "Go on."

  "The only way to trigger the transformation is for Blossom ... uh, I mean Ms. Breeze, to..." Clark swallowed hard.

  "Spit it out, boy. I don’t have all day."

  "Yes, sir." He felt his face flame. "The only way for Blossom to become a superheroine is for her to have a..." He glanced toward the librarian and lowered his voice. "...a sexual encounter. But not just any sexual encounter. It has to be off the charts. She has to experience toe-curling, mind-blowing, deep-muscle-contracting ecstasy."

  For about ten seconds, dead silence poured across the cellular phone waves.

  Then Captain Marvelous cleared his throat. "Well, Clark, what are you waiting for? The fate of humanity is at stake. Get right on it."

  Chapter Four

  Friday, 5:29 a.m.

  One day, eighteen hours, thirty-one minutes, and counting...

  Blossom shielded her eyes from the rising sun as she scurried from the MPI Math Center to her beat-up Volkswagen Jetta. Another all-nighter--one that hadn’t included a single alcoholic beverage or grope in the dark with a muscle-bound stranger, unfortunately. She slung her backpack off her shoulder and fished around in it for her car keys.

  Lois and Jimmy were right. She was pathetic.

  "Hey," a deep voice said, right in her ear.

  She nearly jumped a mile.

  "Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you."

  It was the crazy geek from the library, dressed in another short sleeve button-up-to-the-neck shirt--plaid, no less. His black flood pants were at least two inches too short. To complete the picture of pure geekiness, he held an enormous laptop case in one hand.

  "No problem," she told him. "I love being scared out of my wits. The adrenaline rush will help get me home without falling asleep."

  He smiled. "Up all night?"

  "Yes. Had a bug it took a while to find."

  "I get like that, too," he said. "Time flies when you’re writing code." He plucked the keys from her hand. Before Blossom realized what was happening, he’d guided her around to the passenger’s side, unlocked the door, and helped her in.

  "Wait a minute," she said. "What do you think you’re doing?"

  "You’re dead on your feet," he said. "I can’t let you drive home."

  "That’s the worst pick up line I’ve ever heard," she told him. She climbed out of the car. "Do you really think I’d let some stranger drive me home? You could be an ax murderer or something."

  "Do I look dangerous enough?" the geek asked. His eyes seemed hopeful.

  "Looks aren’t everything," Blossom said.

  "I agree," he said. "But in my case you have nothing to worry about. I would never hurt you." He smiled.

  He was kind of cute when his dimples were showing. But... "I don’t know," she said. "You have to admit, you were a little over the top at the library yesterday. All that talk of superheroes being real--"

  "A joke," he said quickly. "I have a ...
um ... unique sense of humor." He dangled the keys. "I’ll just drive you home. No funny stuff. I promise."

  "No. Give me back my keys."

  "Forget it. If you won’t let me drive, I’m calling a cab."

  "You don’t have to do that."

  "I know." He un-Velcroed a pocket on his laptop case and dug out a cell phone.

  Twenty minutes later, the cab still hadn’t come. "Megalopolis cab service sucks," he grumbled.

  "I could have told you that," Blossom said. "Now can I have my keys? I really need to get some sleep."

  He sighed. "All right. But I’m going to follow you home. Just to make sure you get there okay."

  Great. Just great.

  "One-sixteen Oakland, right?" he asked, handing the keys over.

  She froze. "How did you know that?"

  "Your backpack," he said, pointing.

  Yep, there it was. Right on the tag, under her name, for any and all potential perverts to see. Lovely. She might as well have recorded her bra size, too.

  She glared at him. He grinned back.

  "Who are you?" she asked irritably. "And why are you following me around?"

  He held out his hand. "Dr. Clark Kendall. I’m ... new at MPI. I’m here for a special research project."

  She stared at him for a beat, then started to laugh. "That’s good," she said. "A bit corny, but good."

  "What?" he said, looking genuinely puzzled.

  "Your name. Clark Kendall. Almost like Superman."

  "Yeah," he said. "Almost."

  She got in the car and grabbed the inside door handle. He leaned in, one hand on the roof and the other on the window frame, keeping her from shutting the door. "Listen," he said. "After I tail you home and you catch some sleep, how about going to dinner with me?"

  "You don’t give up easy, do you?"

  He smiled again, a lopsided grin that showed twin dimples, one in each cheek. A thick shank of dark hair fell across his forehead. She looked up, trying to see his eyes, but with the sun striking just so on his glasses, all she could see was her own reflection.