Miracle's Touch

by J. A. Cipriano

  As I stepped into my leotard and pulled it up over my body, I knew I would have to track down Dr. Becca Blair and soon. First, though, I could sense Robert’s anticipation now, back at the manor. I didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer.

  Just after midnight, John set down on the same tower of the mansion I had carried him to, thrusters melting back into the rest of Ohm’s shell, as he gently lowered me onto my feet. Somehow, as if he were expecting us that very moment, Benedict stepped out onto the tower’s balcony, as bright-eyed and perfectly attired as always.

  “Mr. Munroe, Ms. Klein, a pleasure as always,” he smiled softly.

  John flashed a look of surprise as I simply waved. “Hello, Benedict.”

  “Master Washington and his guests are eagerly awaiting you,” Benedict said as he stepped to one side of the open door, gesturing through it. “They are down in the safe room. Right this way.”

  As we descended the steps, John let out a chuckle. “I’m so tempted to fly at full speed to the door, ring the doorbell, and see if another Benedict is waiting there to answer it.”

  The aging butler arched one silver eyebrow, a spark of mystery and mirth coming off him. “You never know, Mr. Munroe. There may very well be.”

  I exchanged a glance with John, and we both came to the silent conclusion not to test that theory. Some things were better off not known, right?

  As for Robert’s guests, I felt them well before I saw them. After my time with John, I felt like I could open myself up to half the city, if I wanted to, no matter how hard that would be to absorb and process. So, sensing the two hearts with Robert was child’s play. One was confident, open, inquisitive, intensely focused and dedicated. The other was laughing, witty, relaxed, all a wall covering up something darker deep down. In a way, they were as opposite as Robert and John were, one solid and experienced, the other unsure and youthful.

  John touched my shoulder as the secure elevator descended into the depths of the mansion. “You okay, Chris?”

  I blinked, pulling out of my emotional scanning to smile at him. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

  “You and me both,” he nodded as the elevator settled. While he was putting on a solid front, I could tell that even with our time together, his heart was still uncertain as to whether he should be here, whether taking up the sword would turn out better than the last time.

  “I believe we all have heavy thoughts these days, sir,” Benedict added as the door slid open. “After you.”

  The main chamber of the safe room complex had been totally rearranged, the leather sofa and loveseats pushed out and the coffee table replaced by a larger glass computer table, a map of New Harbor now displayed prominently on it, with a variety of open windows with all sorts of data points scrolling through them. Robert was at the head of the table, trying to not look like he had been staring at the elevator for the last few moments at it descended. On the long edge opposite the elevator door, his guests, one focused solely on the table’s monitor and the other sitting on the edge of the sofa only half-paying attention.

  Now, if I had made a bet as to who Paragon had called in to help the moment he mentioned it, I would have been collecting my earnings at that moment. The serious one focused on the case was the Implacable Detective himself, Fortress, while the young man who immediately perked at our arrival was his partner, Ballista.

  I’d never met the pair personally. Few in the press ever had. Though Fortress wasn’t shy about speaking to the public, trying to spread his own message of hope across Happy Heights and the city at large, he rarely had time for an interview or a statement. Always more work to do, he would say, and Ballista was even more evasive, literally vanishing before most reporters’ eyes after a snappy quip.

  Fortress cut an imposing figure out of proportion to his surprisingly average 5 foot 9 inch height. He had the physique of a powerlifter. The barrel chest, bulging arms, pillar-like legs, and thick, corded neck, they all spoke of immense physical power. Most of his features were concealed behind the open-mouthed cowl of his uniform, but his wide jawbone angled into a definite V-shaped chin, with broad, expressive lips pressed into a faint smile.

  The uniform itself added to the feeling of weight and presence, looking more like sculpted armor than my own skintight costume, dominated by dark greys and navy blues. Both gauntlets and boots looked reinforced with dull plates, and dull white lenses concealed his eyes. The only spot of brightness was the white diamond on the center of his chest, bearing a black logo that resembled the tower of a castle or the rook from a chess set. Much like most heroes that weren’t Paragon, he eschewed the cape.

  As cool as they were, they were just a pain in the ass.

  As for Fortress’s youthful partner, Ballista was physically night-and-day in comparison. Several inches taller, he was long-boned and wiry, with the lean muscles of an acrobat instead of a walking tank. Even though it looked like he could fall from his perch at any moment, he balanced there with lazy ease. As with his mentor, most of his face hidden behind a cowl, but what I could see of his face was long, delicate, almost elfin, smile lines already cut into his young face at the corners of his grin.

  His uniform was where the similarities were obvious. Though obviously designed to be lighter and easier to move in than Fortress’s, Ballista’s gear was still more armor than Paragon’s or my suits. The colors were all a shade lighter, though, and most importantly, Ballista’s signature weapons graced the back of his forearms, mounted on dull steel bracers. Intricate looking crossbows, their cross arms were hinged and folded back, every bit of metal with a brushed finish that didn’t reflect too much light.

  Despite all of this and what should have been a serious introduction with two famous fellow heroes, all I could do was focus on one thing, and that was what slipped out of my mouth before anything else.

  “I always imagined that you would be taller,” I said, my eyes squarely on Fortress.

  With a surprisingly happy grin, he matched my glance and said, “I get that a lot.” He nodded at me. “It is a pleasure to meet you in the flesh, Ms. Miracle.”

  Ballista leaned forward on his perch, eyeing Robert sidelong. “Dude, you didn’t tell us how hot she was.”

  Robert shot the young man a look that could actually kill considering Robert’s newfound power, and I could feel John’s latent chivalry come to the fore as he contemplated smacking the kid.

  Fortress, though, only laughed amicably, putting his hands on the utility belt at his hips. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to forgive the lad. Ballista’s wit is both one of his greatest weapons and his greatest weakness.”

  I flashed a disarming style at my two guys, surprised myself at how easily that thought rolled through my mind and nodded to Fortress. “It’s an honor to meet you, Fortress, and you too, Ballista. You’ve done some amazing things for this city.”

  Robert must have been used to the kid’s antics, so he calmed quickly, but John grumbled as he planted his hands on his hips. “Yeah, right, great to meet you too, but you probably still want to keep an eye on your boy wonder’s mouth. Not everybody is as nice as we are.”

  Ballista smirked, but that didn’t last a second as his partner gave a brief, stern look before focusing on John. “Hence the greatest weakness part, Mr. Munroe.” John arched an eyebrow slightly as the detective continued. “I was familiar with your case even before Paragon brought me up to speed. One of my greater regrets is not being in a position to investigate the Omniarmor incident myself at the time.”

  “Which was before my time, boss,” Ballista chimed in. “Sorry if I rubbed you the wrong way, man.” He cast a nod with a more serious look at John. “The big P here says you’re a badass, so you have my respect.”

  John just shook his head as he stepped up to the table. I followed right after, placing myself at the corner between him and Robert, putting one of my hands over his. “And he’s fully onboard,” I added with a nod. “With everyone here, we can certainly stop whoever thi
s mystery villain is, for certain.”

  In fact, what Ballista had said sunk in. This was an incredible team, even if I was mainly going off the detective duo’s reputation, and I found myself wondering why there weren’t really any permanent group of heroes like this. Sure, some ‘weaker’ heroes banded together with others who could cover their weaknesses, but the heavy-hitters like Paragon and Fortress rarely worked with anyone for long. Even Ballista had only been under the cowled detective’s tutelage for a few years now.

  Maybe it was crazy to think that destiny or fate or any guiding force was at work here. But, as we began to share notes and information, I wondered more and more if I hadn’t been given these powers not just to give Robert the companion he needed or heal John’s wounded soul, but to bring all these heroes together into one united force for good.

  25

  “Hardware wasn’t the first victim,” Fortress announced as he drew one of the windows on the screen to the center. “Nor was your Dr. O’Brian, Paragon.”

  That certainly got my full attention, as the detective’s gauntleted fingers worked with a finesse that belied their stubby look. He expanded the window out into a list of names, four in total, with accompanying pictures. The robotics expert from S.O.S. Labs and Hardware graced the bottom of the list, but there were two more previous, the first dated the day after the explosion of Dr. Blair’s device, the next the day after.

  “Four victims, all dying while seemingly in the midst of a sexual event, all four acclaimed experts in scientific fields,” Fortress nodded, his mouth twisting into a grim frown, radiating utter seriousness.

  Ballista slid off his perch with a smirk that belied the undercurrent of worry in his heart. “Well, if you gotta go, that’s the way, right, guys?” Almost as it slipped out of his mouth, he looked up at me and reddened a little. “Uh, sorry, Miracle, probably not in the best of taste there.”

  “Please, this a serious situation,” Robert frowned.

  “It’s okay, Ballista, I’m a big girl.” I shook my head with a smile. If I was reading his emotions right, Ballista was just trying to deal with his own worries with a bad joke, and I could take a naughty joke or three.

  John leaned his hands on the table. “Fun and games are fine, but let’s concentrate on business. Who are all these people and what’s it all mean in the end?”

  “Agreed, Mr. Munroe, or should I call you Ironclad?” Fortress said, glancing up at the ex-Marine. “That is what the press has already dubbed you, I believe.”

  Though the detective seemed to be as easy to empathically read as anyone else I had met, I realized as he continued to speak that he had an incredible reserve of willpower and discipline. It served to, well, even out my readings on him, so I couldn’t quite tell if that was a joke, a dig, or an honest observation. I decided on the third, even as John let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Damn,” he groused, “it hasn’t been, what, two hours since I linked with Ohm again?” With the faintest hint of a grin, he glanced at me sidelong. “You’d think the press had better things to do than come up with quippy names for new masks?”

  “You’d be surprised what they have time for,” I smiled back before turning my full attention to Fortress. “Anyway, the other murders …?”

  “Yes, Ms. Miracle, they have been the nut we’ve been trying to crack for days, hence why I set Paragon on his own little investigation regarding you as opposed to helping directly.” Fortress pointed to the list, tapping each name to open their information in a new, larger window. “The first was Dr. Dev Patel, a professor of neuroscience at New Harbor University, while the second was Dr. Paul Rodriguez, an expert on cloning that worked for Nu-U Bioresearch, an Omnitech subsidiary. Patel was found in his office on campus, while Rodriguez was discovered in his research lab of Nu-U’s research campus on the outskirts of town.”

  “And whoever did the deed,” Ballista added, “did it without leaving a trace, well, at least on the security system. Like what happened to your lab, Big P. Our theory is that the perp scrubbed the systems using the victim’s own clearances.”

  “Right, partner,” Fortress nodded as he brought up a list of data that would make most people’s eyes bleed.

  Both John and Robert, smart men in their own right, were both taken aback by it even as they tried to process is. My own time poring over the Sentinel’s databases helped, and I thought I started to see a pattern after a few moments.

  “These are logs of database activity, right?” I asked, pointing at the list of dates and times next to the file structure we were seeing. “And if I’m reading the folder labels right, this is from New Harbor U.” It all started to come clear, and I could sense a growing admiration in Fortress as I worked through clues he and Ballista had no doubt already cracked. “These were all accessed the night of his death and” – I touched the table screen, dragging the list of murder dates and times to be side-by-side with the database information – “after the projected time of death!”

  Paragon caught on just after I did, and John’s eyes lit up a moment after that.

  Ballista smiled at me as he leaned on a corner of the table. “Bull’s eye, ma’am, which means unless we have a spooky ghost …”

  “What my partner is driving at is that it seems as if whoever is killing these men has some means to access their knowledge, or at least that is our working theory.” Fortress tapped his finger on Hardware’s picture. “What you all saw tonight, well, considering the time, last night, only serves to confirm this.”

  Robert nodded slowly, his brows crinkled in that endearing thinker’s pose he often took, hand at his chin. “It would make sense. Everything from Magnetaur’s bio-beasts at the ball through the battle robot tonight utilized combined disciplines, the knowledge that those experts each had separately. The only flaw in your hypothesis is Hardware’s death. He was certainly alive at some point right before the attack on the warehouse tonight.”

  John folded his armor-clad arms over his broad chest. “Bob’s right. I’ve dealt with enough dead bodies in my time with the Marines to know that Hardware wasn’t too far gone when we broke through to the cockpit.”

  “It’s possible our murderer … or murderess … can access knowledge without killing, or even simpler of an explanation, had a means to coerce or manipulate Hardware before feeling a need to kill him,” Fortress postulated, his chin resting on a closed fist.

  “Heck,” Ballista shrugged, “it doesn’t even have to be that complicated. Hardware’s always been a dealer of tech. Our bad guy could have just offered him a pile of cash or some tasty technology. Maybe something pilfered from either Patel or Rodriguez’s research? That’d still give a day or more for things to get ready for the attack on your house.” He glanced over at Paragon.

  Robert nodded slowly. “It’s not impossible, no.”

  He wasn’t entirely convinced, neither was John. I could tell even if I didn’t have a direct line to their souls … and that made me look down at my own hand as my reporter’s instincts started to spark up. Fortress and Ballista were right, it told me, and there was more.

  “Do you think that this might have something to do with the explosion at S.O.S.?” I said softly. “The one with the Neural Feedback Bonder, the one that gave me my powers?”

  I spoke plainly as there wasn’t a need to worry about my secret identity with these people. John and Robert knew, of course, and I figured that Fortress knew even before he made his little wager with Robert, which meant Ballista knew too.

  “It isn’t out of the realm of possibility, Ms. Miracle,” Fortress nodded, his true feelings shrouded now behind a wall of enforced calm. “Considering there are no similar murders before Patel’s, one day after the explosion, and what our conjecture about the capacities of the killer —”

  “Hold up now,” John said, cutting off the detective as he raised two armored hands. “First, this sounds dangerously close to you making some dramatic reveal that Chris was the killer the whole time, and that’s bullshit.
Second, how does that explosion possibly connect to this outside of the coincidental date?”

  I wasn’t nearly as upset as John, because frankly I would have considered myself a prime suspect myself I had been in Fortress’s shoes, so I kept my peace, more curious than concerned to see what the detective duo would say.

  Ballista shrugged nonchalantly. “The boss nixed that first theory a couple of days ago, so you don’t need to kick our butts, dude.”

  “An unnecessary clarification, Ballista, but yes,” Fortress nodded, “Ms. Miracle is not a suspect anymore. As for how the explosion might connect to this …” He looked right at me, the solid white lenses giving his gaze an unnerving quality.

  “Right,” I nodded, putting a hand on John’s shoulder, something that brought his growing frustration and anger back down a notch. “The device that exploded, the one being presented, was called a Neural Feedback Bonder, and the scientist presenting it said it would create a sort of psychic network, something that would establish constant, symbiotic neural links to everyone in the range of the network.”

  Robert clarified my explanation as John’s brow knit in consternation. “Think of it as having all minds in the network in a constant, harmonic mental union, much as Ohm’s hive intelligence operates.”

  That made it all click in the ex-Marine’s brain. “So … because it gave you some powers like that, your, well, super heart stuff,” – he vaguely gestured up and down at me – “you think it gave someone else in the blast something else along those lines.”

  “Christine’s own capabilities are, to expound on your colorful phrasing,” Robert said with a wry grin, “based on emotions and empathic connections. That is one part of the Neural Bonding concept, but the other is direct thought sharing. Telepathy, by any other name, so it is not an impossible idea that another exhibition-goer had such powers awakened. That would allow them to read the minds of these scientists, gaining access to their security information and passwords.”