Miracle's Touch

by J. A. Cipriano

  Renewed, reaffirmed, and strengthened, I opened each of them up to the other, and for a shining moment, we were as one emotionally.

  As it passed, there was no doubt in my mind that each man knew the other as well as I did. All I could do is open my eyes, sweat pouring off my brow, and hope that the connection would carry them forward the final step.

  Ohm had covered their master sometime during that, the Omniarmor sensing the tenseness and the emotional onslaught. John’s eyes were wide open, trying to process everything he had experienced, while Robert’s head was bowed, eye still closed, mind racing. I took in a deep breath, wiping my brow, and ventured to speak first.

  “Are you guys okay?” I asked, searching for some response from either of them.

  “I …” John started but paused, searched inside for the right words, and tried again. “That was intense, Chris. I’m not going to say to never do that again but … maybe do that super sparingly.” His eyes turned to Robert. “Hey, Bob, I … I never knew how goddamn hard it was to be you.” With that, Ohm receded into a glove that covered John’s left hand.

  The mightiest man on the planet looked up at that, and his thoughtful eyes opened slowly. “It is I who should feel humbled in your presence, John. While my parents always sought to ensure I knew what human suffering was, to seek it out and crush the cause of it, I can never have known the pain you have endured. You are an amazing man.”

  “Now, if that doesn’t definitively show you why I feel as I do for both of you, I’m out of ideas.” I crossed my arms, hiding the massive relief I felt under a smile. “So, you ready for breakfast? Because I’m starved.”

  My words hung in the silence for a moment before they both cracked smiles and started to laugh. It was a beautiful thing to hear, and I happily joined in.

  Benedict plied us with his tempting cuisine a short time later. Perfect Belgian waffles with a crisp exterior and the fluffiest dough you could ever imagine, fresh strawberry compote and whipped cream, crispy bacon, hot coffee, and another round of those amazing shrimp-and-cheese grits. God, if I didn’t seem to have a superhuman metabolism, I would have eaten myself to immovability on that man’s breakfasts.

  The chatter was light, quiet. It turns out that once you experience true unity with someone, it actually cuts down on the pointless chatter people use to make things feel comfortable. By the time we were done and down to sipping coffee and tea, we were all ready to get down to brass tacks.

  “So,” John said as he poured himself some more coffee, “that … thing you did, Chris, that had a lot more oomph than what you did yesterday. Even Ohm could sense it. You’re, well, stronger.”

  I nodded slowly as I sipped at my own cup. “Definitely. Not just my empathic senses. After I bonded with Robert, I was stronger both physically and mentally than the night before. The same thing happened after we bonded, John, superpowers or not.” I gestured to Robert with my coffee spoon. “Robert grew more powerful too. This is, well, some kind of symbiosis. Both sides get stronger by the bonds I seem to form.”

  “Which begs the question,” Robert began, setting down his teacup. “John, how do you feel, shall we say, the morning after?” There was an amused smile on his face as he added another sugar cube.

  “What’s that, Bob? A joke?” John let out a chuckle. “Will Chris’s magic powers never cease in their breadth?”

  He waved his left hand, Ohm shifting near instantly into a shining grey rose in his hand. “Seriously, though, not only do I feel pretty damn incredible in general, Ohm and I, well …” He spun his hand again, and the rose morphed into a firearm in his grip, again faster than even my enhanced reflexes could follow. “I had the highest compatibility with the Omniarmor of anyone before, and that topped out at only 67% at its peak. Now, though, Ohm and I are at 100% compatibility. We’re practically one being now.”

  Robert nodded. “A great boon with what we might have to face today. We must assume that whoever is at the heart of this not only has the combined knowledge of all four of these geniuses but all of Hardware’s technological resources and facilities.”

  I nodded. “We’ll be ready for them. We just have to work together. Between the three of us and our detective duo, we can beat anything.”

  “Speaking of them, I expect we’ll hear from Fortress soon,” Robert noted as he finished his tea. “His is the greatest deductive mind I know on the planet and Ballista is quite capable despite his rough exterior.”

  I nodded as I tapped my lip with my coffee spoon. “I have zero doubts. All the same, though, I want to go visit Dr. Becca Blair. Even if she winds up being cleared of any wrongdoing, she’s still at the heart of all this.”

  “You think she can answer some of your questions about the, uh, heart stuff?” John asked, glancing at me as he refilled his coffee. “What with her making the device that started it all.”

  “That’s the idea.” I frowned a bit, twirling the spoon in my fingers. “Also, if she isn’t involved, whoever is our murderer might come to the same conclusion we did, that their powers came from the Neural Feedback Bonder, and go visiting. We still don’t know how they're stealing this knowledge so she could be a target.”

  Robert nodded, his heroic instincts coming to the fore. “We shouldn’t waste any more time. We will go with you, of course. Until Fortress has something, we would be foolish to split up.”

  I was about to nod my total agreement when Robert’s phone started chiming, playing what I recognized as the opening of Johann Strauss’s Die Fledermaus Overture. The surge of urgency in his heart told me who would be on the other end even before he answered it.

  “Yes, Fortress, what is it?” he said, his eyes glancing between John and me. As Robert listened, his brow knit as concern grew in his soul. After a few tense moments of listening, he nodded as he answered an unheard question. “Of course. We will be out the door in a few moments. You know we will be there swiftly.”

  John and I were both on our feet before Robert finished the call. “So,” I said, “what’s gone wrong now?”

  “Not so much as wrong as right,” Robert answered as he snapped his fingers, azure light running across his form, replacing his business suit with his familiar white-and-gold uniform, cape billowing as he rose off the ground. “They have tracked down one of Hardware’s remaining installations, and it is in full production. We are speaking of a force large enough to potentially level New Harbor if left unchecked.”

  John nodded, his face hardening into the look of the war hero that he was. Ohm cascaded over him again, covering his body in the full Omniarmor I had seen the night before. “What about the suspects? Did they manage to narrow the field any? It’s possible our mastermind isn’t even there, after all.”

  He had a good point, one Robert acknowledged with a nod. Maybe that was why he hadn’t changed my own street clothes into my costume yet. “There are still two possible suspects. Davey Smith, a junior reporter with the local SNN affiliate, and our good doctor Becca Blair.”

  “Definitely not Davey,” I said with a shake of his head. “I know this sounds bad, but I know the kid and I just can't see him going all supervillain. On top of that, he had to have been at the fringes of the blast. He and some of the press guys were already on their way out of the presentation.”

  Robert nodded. “I thought as much, which means that we still need to contact Dr. Blair. Find out without a shadow of a doubt if she’s involved.”

  “You guys bring the firepower down on Hardware’s old tinker toys.” I grinned and nodded, hands on my hips. “I’ll go have an interview with her, woman to woman.”

  28

  As the front door of the suburban home opened, revealing a somewhat shocked Becca Blair, I held up my press badge and smiled brightly. “Good morning, Dr. Blair. Christine Klein, New Harbor Sentinel.”

  To her credit, she recovered quickly, looking at me sharply through thick-rimmed glasses with clear, crystal blue eyes. “I remember you, Ms. Klein. You were the only reporter at my p
resentation that actually gave a damn.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the door jamb. “What do I owe the honor of your visit? Shouldn’t you be wining and dining with the supers set up in the Bluffs?”

  It took about zero seconds for me to figure out that Becca had been as changed by the explosion of her device as I had been. Those piercing eyes had been the first clue, a stark change from the muddy color her eyes had been before. To add to that, her olive skin had clarified, as smooth and perfect as my own now, and the glasses on her face might have had thick frames, but the lenses were plain glass. Her voluptuous figure had trimmed up a bit, and she wasn’t hiding it under baggy clothes, now dressed in hip-hugging slacks and a tight blouse that showed off her curves.

  Most importantly, I could feel the same dark hunger and overpowering arrogance I had felt in the heart of the battle robot at the warehouse. It wasn’t proof though, and you can’t punch someone in the face on a hunch.

  I tried not to let it show. If Dr. Blair didn’t make the connection immediately and if my hunch was right, I could use this as a chance to verify my suspicions. No matter how progressive the laws on superhuman powers were, my empathic impressions and gut instinct were not admissible evidence in a court of law. Instead, I kept my smile and shook my head.

  “Oh, it’s certainly not that kind of fun,” I laughed. “You’re as likely to be eaten by a bio-engineered dinosaur or blasted by a death ray as spend time with the big heroes.” I leaned forward conspiratorially. “To be honest, I’m far more interested in the work you presented than any of that.”

  Becca arched a thick eyebrow over her glasses and pushed off the door frame. There was a small surge of interest mixed with a liberal amount of caution as she chewed at her lip. “Is that so? Did you come for the rest of the story, then?” She practically purred as she stepped back, the caution starting to fade. “There’s so much more to tell that the, uh, accident rudely interrupted.”

  “That’s precisely why I’m here,” I only half-lied, producing my notebook from my purse and pencil from my ear. “I’d love to give you the interview you deserve if you have the time.” I pursed my lips disapprovingly. “After hearing about your suspension from S.O.S., well, I think your story deserves to be told.”

  It was like saying open sesame at the entrance of a magic cave. Becca’s smirk melted into a smile as she turned on her heels and stepped inside. “Well, come on in then, Ms. Klein. Let’s get more properly acquainted.” She beckoned with a finger. “And please close the door as you come in.”

  This was either a golden opportunity or a set-up, and I was ready for either. Stashing the notebook and pencil for the moment, I did as I was asked, stepping over the threshold and shutting the door behind me. What I stepped into looked like every inch the normal home, if a tad threadbare in terms of decorations, like the home of someone who hadn’t really lived life. The moment the door clicked home, though, a staccato series of clicks and whirrs rang out as a complex series of locks and bolts slammed home. Dr. Blair spun back around with surprising speed, her blue eyes almost luminous as she stared right into mine.

  It was like being hit in the face with a sledgehammer as some immense, psychic pressure crashed into my soul. I recoiled back, clutching my forehead, unable to look away or shield my eyes from her cobra-like stare.

  “Do you think I’m a moron, Ms. Miracle?” the doctor hissed. “Did you really think I couldn’t see right through you and your stupid playacting to see you’re as changed as I am? All you’ve accomplished by coming here is becoming my plaything!”

  If I didn’t have my powers or more importantly, if I hadn’t bonded with both of those wonderful men, the tremendous hypnotic force that cascaded out of Blair’s glowing eyes would have crushed my will, because I almost fell under her sway in that initial assault. However, strengthened as I was, my own mental prowess fought back, drawing on the love and light over our mutual connections. Sweat ran down both our faces as I forced myself forward, lowering my hands as I concentrated and pushed back.

  “No,” I growled back, “I think you’re a moron because you didn’t use your powers to be a hero.” Before she could spit anything back, I broke free from her gaze, and as the psychic pressure evaporated, I threw a swinging uppercut right at her breadbasket.

  It connected beautifully. There was a harsh impact as my fist connected with something scarily solid and very unflesh-like. A harsh shudder ran up my arm, even as a flash of light echoed over Becca’s body a split second before she rocketed down the front hall, taking out the banister and railings of the staircase leading upstairs. She bounced twice, first off the staircase and then off the ceiling, before cratering into the floor in what looked like the kitchen.

  To my dismay, she was laughing maniacally as her entire form shimmered and sparked as if there were a cheap hologram around her that was giving out. That turned out to be exactly because there was a hologram around her that faded away as she pulled herself to her feet. Not one to lose momentum, I took bounding steps down the hall, hoping to keep the newly-discovered villainess off balance.

  “Oh no, I don’t need another set of bruises,” Becca laughed as she pressed something on her hand, what I recognized as a switch as her disguise melted away to show the large, black rubber gloves studded with gadgets. Right before I was on top of her, I smacked into some invisible force, bouncing off but unharmed.

  The air behind me shimmered before I could take a back step and it looked that I was boxed in for the moment. The rest of Blair’s hologrammatic disguise faded away, and I finally got a good look at the mastermind behind this wave of crimes that had plagued the city.

  From head to foot, Dr. Becca Blair now looked like she had stepped out of a mad scientist casting call before stumbling through a cyberpunk rave party. Purple luminescent dye blazed in streaks through her 1950’s-style updo, while a double-breasted lab coat in matching neon purple burned itself into my retinas. The high collar popped up to her ears, buttoned in front of her face to form a mask of sorts, with a bizarrely ornate set of goggles strapped to her forehead, leaving her lethally hypnotic eyes bare. Outside of her oversized rubber gloves, two toolbelts crisscrossed her hips, laden with tools, scientific instruments, and more weapon-like objects that were utterly unrecognizable to me. Topping it all off, a black armband covered her right bicep with two stylized purple P’s emblazoned on it.

  “I don’t know if I, Professor Peril,” – Blair said her villainous name with dramatic flair – “should finish you off right now, or let you stew trapped here until I kill the rest of your heroic friends. The delicious taste of your despair as I show you their heads would be —”

  While she monologued, I acted. I threw my shoulder not into the force barrier, but into the wall to my side with all my might. The walls, floor, and ceiling didn’t shimmer with the same translucent force, so there was a chance they weren’t as durable. Peril was just arrogant enough to underestimate me, just like she had before, and my hunch was right.

  There was some reinforced metal behind the plaster and drywall … but it wasn’t an impregnable force field. I didn’t know how physically strong I really was now after my time with John, but I got a good impression at that moment as the solid metal plate buckled and blew clear of whatever was holding it in place. Crashing through that and another layer of drywall past it, I dove into what looked like a typical-enough living room.

  “Goddammit, Miracle!” Peril’s shrill cry echoed from the hallway. “You better not have wrecked my favorite chair, or I’ll make your death extra-slow!”

  Now that she was ready for a fight, the Professor must have clamped down on her mind, maybe realizing I could sense her. While I wasn’t sure precisely where she was, I’d go through as many walls as I had to in order to get her. Spinning as I tore off my now-ruined blouse to reveal the green-and-silver of my uniform, I oriented on where her voice echoed from and slammed into the next nearest wall, something I figured would take me into the kitchen.

  Another
layer of drywall, an expensive-looking painting, and another reinforced steel plate later, I did indeed burst into a kitchen. I also took out part of a marble counter, a toaster oven, and part of the pantry in the process, dry foods and cans spilling out into the floor and making one god-awful mess. Professor Peril gaped at me from where the hallway opened into the kitchen, gaping at me even as she took aim with a garish-looking purple-and-black raygun right out of a grade Z sci-fi flick.

  “I had almost finished paying the mortgage on this place, you … you … cow!” she cried as she pulled the trigger, a stream of burning hot plasma bursting out of the ridiculous-looking tip of the thing.

  Now I may have become a lot more powerful in those past five days, but plasma that could melt through anything was not something I wanted to take head-on. Though it was obvious that Professor Peril was more physically gifted than Dr. Becca Blair had been, she didn’t seem to be my physical equal, unable to keep up with my movements. With superhuman grace, I dove out of the way of her first blast, which turned the refrigerator into a heap of slag, and kept moving as the second blast blasted a hole clean through the far wall.

  “This would go much easier and less expensive for you if you were to give up now,” I growled as I ripped the sink out of the wall with one easy wrench and, well threw the kitchen sink at her.

  Her eyes going wide, she did what any insane person with a plasma weapon would do. She slagged the oncoming projectile, vaporizing the porcelain and metal before it clocked her in the face. That was also exactly what I was counting on her to do as I charged up with superhuman speed right behind the projectile, keeping my head low.