by Logan Jacobs
“What do you think?” I asked. “With this suit, you would be as strong as Optimo and as agile as the Kitten.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, but would serve its purpose.
“It’s… nice,” Elizabeth said as she reached out to pass her fingers through the imaginary suit. She kept the rest of her face composed, but her turquoise eyes were fixated on it with an expression of awe and eagerness.
Once I had this thing produced for her and got her into it, she would be mine.
“What does this thing do?” Dynamo asked as she pointed to a dial on the wrist of the sleeve. I started talking her through the various more innovative features of the suit, and she started contributing her own suggestions for the modifications that she felt should be made. After a while, another drink in, she stopped carefully referring to “the wearer of the suit” and how certain features would impact “his or her” abilities and started inadvertently using the pronouns “I” and “mine.”
Just as I had planned.
“You already are magnificent,” I finally said after we had talked about the suit for a few hours. “Just think of the good we both could do together.”
“I… don’t… know.” The raven-haired beauty took another sip of her drink as our eyes met.
“But you are thinking about it?” I asked as I moved closer to her and took her free hand in mine.
“Yes,” she whispered, and then her eyes drifted away from mine, back to the screen of red dots, and then back to the mockup of her suit. “I am thinking about it.”
Miles Chapter Twelve
While I seduced Elizabeth, Norma started dealing with the police investigation of the mysterious explosion that had occurred at the warehouse. Luckily, all of the criminal evidence seemed to have been incinerated, and Norma was excellent at sounding so extremely normal when talking to strangers that they would dismiss the thought of her as a criminal mastermind and focus their suspicions elsewhere.
I asked Dynamo if she wanted to stay for dinner, but she stiffened at the reminder that she had stayed so long and said she had to go.
I walked her back to her car and said, “Well, I’ll contact you when your new suit is ready. And what you choose to do with it is then up to you.”
Her eyes widened, since I hadn’t promised her a suit before then, we had just been discussing it in the hypothetical like two tech geeks. Then a tiny smile came to her lips. She nodded, got in her absurdly flashy red car, and drove off.
When I got back to The Cellar, Norma was just hanging up the phone. She sighed heavily, poured herself a drink, and gulped it back.
“Finally got the cops off our asses?” I asked her.
“For now,” she said.
“Want to start doing something more fun and verify the info that The Virus gave us about The Chief’s lair?” I asked. “Or do you have other plans for the rest of the night?”
“No, I can do it,” she agreed like I knew she would. “So, will Dynamo be joining us for the assault on the lair?”
“That remains to be seen, but I have high hopes that that will be the case,” I said. “If I can get this custom suit just right… it will be the perfect symbol for how much her powers could be amplified by joining forces with us.”
Norma smirked unexpectedly and asked, “So, do you know what her powers are?”
“Yeah, we kind of discussed that in relation to the suit, what additional forces it would have to be able to withstand, what kind of baseline abilities we’d want to amplify,” I said. “She has super strength, regenerative abilities, and super agility. Her reflexes could almost be classified as superspeed, but not quite. She can’t break the sound barrier. Really pretty generic stuff, as superpowers go, it’s more her personality that I’m impressed with.”
“There’s one more that you’re missing,” Norma said. “Hmm, guess she didn’t mention it. Funny, that. But it’s in the database, I looked her up.”
“What is it?” I growled.
“She can always tell whether someone is lying,” Norma replied.
“Oh,” I chuckled.
“You don’t seem worried,” Norma pointed out.
“I haven’t lied to her,” I said as I thought through our conversations. “Well, if she had asked me if I wanted to fuck her, I would have lied and said ‘no,’ but she never asked that, so I think I’m safe.”
It’s not that I was a habitual liar. I wasn’t. I didn’t care enough about what other people thought to make a habit of pretending to be something I wasn’t. But on the other hand, sometimes there were details about my work that I knew others would misunderstand. Sometimes there were details that could get me into legal trouble.
For example, exactly what had just happened to reduce my newly purchased warehouse to a pile of smoking embers with humanoid DNA mixed in.
For example, some of the ways that the C.D.S. sourced its information. And, I had occasionally been known to exaggerate my admiration for some of my past lovers because it was what they expected and were used to hearing from men. I had never made anyone false promises, but, a white lie here or there sometimes just made certain social situations less awkward.
“Yeah,” Norma muttered, “you don’t really lie, which is kind of frustrating sometimes.”
“Oh?” I asked as I raised an eyebrow to her.
“Ahhh, ummm,” Norma stuttered as her face turned a bit red. “I just meant with women. Like, uhhh, you don’t mind talking about your exploits with women openly.”
“Of course not,” I scoffed. “So does that frustrate you, Norma?”
“Uhh, I guess not,” she cleared her throat.
“Is it just because I’m not fucking you?” I asked.
Norma’s head jerked up, and her eyes doubled in size. For half a moment her entire body seemed to turn red, and her mouth hung open.
“Ohh--”
“I’m just playing with you, Norma,” I laughed as I gave her one of my classic smirks.
“Okay,” she cleared her throat and gave me a sweet smile, “but I knew that, Miles.”
“Of course you did,” I said as I turned back to the screens. “I can always count on you to get my humor and really understand me. You are a great assistant, and I’m glad you came to work for me.”
“Anytime,” she said. “That’s what I’m here for. I guess if there’s anything I really want to know the truth about, I’ll just have to ask Dynamo to ask you.”
“You don’t have to do that, you can just ask me,” I said. “I trust you. I don’t need to lie to you.”
She smiled.
“Aileen, can you order us the usual for delivery from Chang’s?” I asked.
“Yes, Miles,” she replied from the nearest speaker. She had wheeled her body into a corner and left it dormant there since she didn’t need it for now. “I won’t be able to pick it up when it arrives, though.”
“Oh right, I need to repair your pincers, thanks for the reminder,” I said. But I wouldn’t have wanted her picking up takeaway orders for a while yet anyway. She was a magnificent work of art, probably the most impressive thing I had ever built, but she was still a long way from passing for human. And if she was the one who showed up to meet him, the poor delivery boy might drop all the food.
As Aileen dialed up the Chinese restaurant, I brought her body over to a worktable and replaced the screws that she had dislocated. I actually didn’t know how she’d even been able to do it, since it wasn’t supposed to be one of her functions. But it gave me the idea that once I had the chance to complete her arms, I should make them convertible somehow so that she could extend them at will without damaging her frame. Also, maybe I could do a Swiss army knife type of concept with her hands, so that she could have hooks or pincers or scissors or a wine bottle opener, whatever the occasion called for. That would have to wait, though.
My first priority was taking down The Chief. He’d made things personal between us when he invaded my house and then attacked the launch party for the C.D.S. In a way, he’d en
d up being kind of a test run for my ability to fight supervillains my way, on my terms, without any natural superpowers of my own.
And if all went well, then he’d be the case study that would demonstrate to Dynamo that my team was worth her time, and that my vision for the supervillain-free future of Pinnacle City actually aligned with her vision.
The first step in winning her over and proving to her that I had what it took was going to be making this present for her, a suit that was a significant upgrade from what was essentially just an upscale legless pleather catsuit that she was wearing now. So while Norma, with the help of Aileen, occupied themselves with doing preliminary research on the abandoned car tunnel by the Talanooga Shopping Mall that The Virus had mentioned, I worked on that.
Dynamo’s suit was easier to make than mine was going to be because I could utilize all of the features I had already developed and only had to design slight augmentations instead of dramatic power increases. The biggest obstacle for my suit was reducing the weight so it wouldn’t significantly hamper my mobility without sacrificing any of its durability or toughness. didn’t apply to the same extent in hers, since she fell within a normal height and weight range for a human woman, albeit an exceptionally athletic one, and she was actually many times stronger and tougher than any non-super could be. I figured that as long as the suit weighed less than a hundred pounds or so, she would still be able to jump and flip around without noticing too much of a difference.
For that first night, I just focused on catching Dynamo’s suit up to the same stage that mine was at. I printed the same components but sized down to fit her and Norma helped me assemble them. We ate Chinese delivery, finished the bottle of Old Fitz, and worked through till almost dawn when Aileen sang us a lullaby and we passed out on the tile floor next to each other.
The next day we woke up stiff and cold to Aileen updating us on various news items that she thought would be of interest to us in a gradually increasing volume of voice.
“The explosion at the warehouse is still being described as of mysterious origin. There’s speculation that faulty wiring may be to blame. Or that a teenage arsonist could have been involved. There’s no official commentary as it is still an ongoing police investigation.” Aileen hummed to herself. “Oh, looks like an annual budget increase for The Wardens of about two billion has been approved for the next fiscal year. Ah, Veronica Salinger just got engaged, and according to several outlets, the ring is ‘ginormous.’ Speaking of which, Miles, you’ve been named fourth on this annual list of Most Eligible Bachelors--”
“Ermph?” I removed my arm from my mouth. “Who are the other three?”
“Well, number one is Optimo--”
“Then fuck that list,” I interrupted. “Can you get breakfast started upstairs? I need a protein smoothie and some oatmeal.”
Norma yawned luxuriously and dragged herself to her feet. “I’ll go be her hands and legs.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Could you bring down a few coffees, too?”
“Double shots,” Norma agreed.
I tinkered a little more with Dynamo’s suit while breakfast was being prepared.
“Would you like me to brief you on what we know about The Chief’s potential lair?” Aileen asked me once Norma brought the food down.
“How much do you know?” I asked. “It can’t be that much, if you’re still calling it his ‘potential’ lair.”
“We don’t know much,” Aileen said. “It’s been out of use for about five years, so there are no recent images, and it’s possible that The Chief and his crew have made extensive renovations. But we do have the original construction blueprints, and it seems plausible that The Virus was telling the truth. There were a few unsolved kidnapping incidents at the Talanooga Mall in the past five years.”
“Okay, sounds good,” I said. “Guess we won’t really know until we go to check it out in person. I’ll review the blueprints later when we’re ready to devise a plan of attack. For now I’m going to focus on getting our suits ready.”
Then about an hour after that, I went to work out in my home gym for a while, and told Norma to take a break too.
After I showered, and we reunited in The Cellar for a working lunch, Norma showed me an idea she’d drawn up for micronizing the boots that went with my suit.
“You wouldn’t be able to fly, or jump over tall skyscrapers in single bounds,” she said, “but it’d put some extra spring in your step for sure, it would do about twenty percent of the work for you at a maximum sprint, and you’d be able to land softly from relatively tall heights. Like maybe thirty, forty feet. Nothing too extreme with this iteration, but it’d definitely be helpful during a rooftop chase or something. What do you think?”
“I love it,” I said as I examined the drawing. “Hmm, this bit will require a few adjustments, but… I think the general concept is quite feasible. Nice work.” I took a break from the section of Dynamo’s suit that I was working on to implement Norma’s idea with the boots.
The rest of the day passed in a coffee-and-takeaway-food-fueled blur of productivity as I moved back and forth between the two suits. Once I figured something out technically, I would explain it to Norma, and she would be able to implement it while I moved on to the next problem. And if I got stumped, then Aileen was often able to trouble-shoot and identify a solution. She also surveilled our work and documented everything that Norma and I did so that we would be able to refer back and replicate whatever did work. The AI had also helpfully scanned Dynamo’s dimensions when she visited The Cellar, so she was able to provide us with her exact measurements.
We worked until a more reasonable hour that night, and then we made it back upstairs to our beds. I don’t know about Norma, but for my part I fell asleep promptly, and it was the deep, satisfied sleep of a good day’s work done. I don’t remember what I dreamed about but if I had to guess it probably would have been wearing my new suit, with Dynamo alongside me in her matching suit, and kicking supervillain ass together.
It took Norma, Aileen, and me another day and a half to complete the suits, run tests on them, and make the necessary final adjustments. I did a workout in my suit and left all of my personal records in the dust without even breaking a sweat. I did accidentally make my treadmill explode, but after that I incorporated an additional safety feature to ensure that the lapse wouldn’t happen again.
On Friday, I texted Dynamo, “Your custom order is ready for pickup, ma’am.”
She replied, “I’ll stop by after work today.”
With a typical employee, that probably would have translated to sometime around five or six in the evening, but six o’clock and then seven o’clock passed, and there was still no sign of Elizabeth or any further word from her.
In the meantime, Norma assisted me with constructing new arms and hands for Aileen. We had tested several molds that were almost but not quite right and were discussing the optimal number of convertible hand implement options that could practically be accommodated when Aileen announced,
“You have a guest, Miles.”
“Welcome or unwelcome?” I inquired.
In response, Aileen projected a promotional video across the three biggest screens in The Cellar which were usually overtaken by the C.D.S. display. The video featured an athletic, raven-haired beauty turning flips atop a speeding train, strutting away in slow motion from a fiery explosion that billowed up behind her back, punching a dragon in the mouth, and rolling across a canopied bed in her bra and panties. At the end of the video she winked one long-lashed turquoise eye at the camera and blew a kiss.
“That’s her Warden promo video,” Norma groaned.
“Of course,” Aileen said with a tilted laugh. “I thought it would be more enjoyable to Miles to watch her roll around in her panties instead of just see the security feed of her standing in front of our mansion door.”
“You are correct, Aileen,” I admitted, “but please take it down so that we don’t offend the superheroine.”
>
“Should I open the front door?” Norma asked as the screens switched to show Dynamo standing in front of my door. She was wearing her usual lipstick red bodysuit, but it was cut and burned across the sides and front, and a good portion of her beautiful skin radiated from beneath the missing cloth.
“Sure,” I said, and then Norma hit the button to open our doors while I pressed the microphone button and invited Elizabeth in.
When Dynamo took the elevator down and arrived in The Cellar, Aileen wheeled up and presented the completed suit to her.
“Rough day at work, darling?” I asked Dynamo when she arrived.
“Not rougher than usual.” Dynamo took the hundred-pound suit, lifted it in the air, and turned it over in her hands to admire every part of it as casually as if it weighed no more than a silk negligee. Then she looked up at me and smiled. Her hair was disheveled, she had a shallow cut across her cheekbone, and one of her eyes was blackened, but her smile was still radiant.
I pointed to The Cellar’s bathroom. “You can try it on in there if you want.”
“No cameras in there?” she asked suspiciously.
“None,” I promised, and thanks to Norma’s bit of research, I knew that Dynamo knew that I was telling the truth.
She nodded and carried the suit into the bathroom.
By the time she came out, the superficial damage to her face had already faded so that it was barely noticeable anymore, which made me wonder how bad the wounds must have been when she initially got off work and started driving over. The red catsuit had certainly been dramatic and eye-catching on her, and I couldn’t deny that she had looked damn good in that too, but this darker suit was more tasteful, more sophisticated, and made her look more like someone to be taken seriously.
And to me that made it even sexier.
The dark color of the suit also blended more with her dark hair, which heightened the contrast with her fair skin and piercing turquoise eyes. Now, she looked less like a showgirl and more like an avenging dark angel.