by S. J. Delos
I walked away from the scene and turned the corner. I pressed my finger against my ear, activating the communications link. “Power Brain, you there?”
“I’m here. Phantasm just reported in and told us what happened. Mister Manpower said to tell you that you two did a good job.”
“I’m going to make another sweep around the area before heading back. Kayo out.”
“I must say, playing the hero really does seem to suit you.” The voice that came from behind me turned my blood to ice and made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I turned to see the face I could have gone the rest of my life without running into again. Not that it was a face hard to look at. The immaculate black silk suit with a light blue tie he wore hid the chiseled torso I knew intimately. Doctor Maniac stepped out of the alcove of the building behind him. His sandy blonde hair was a little longer than I recalled and there might have been a few more gray hairs as well. Otherwise, he still had the determined chin and the wry smile that had taken my breath away years ago, when I had seen him for the first time and been instantly smitten.
I really couldn’t give him a thorough examination, due to my attention being pulled to the two well-endowed blondes that stepped out behind him. “Martin,” I said, trying not to scream the word. “What the hell do you want?”
He held up his hands in a gesture that seemed to say ‘I’m harmless.’ However I knew better. “Just to see you, darling.”
“Well, turn on the TV. You can see me there all the time.”
“Maybe I prefer to lay eyes upon you in person.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Maybe I’ll lay my hands on you, in person, and haul your ass to jail.”
Martin’s eyes swept back and forth over me and his grin widened. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still as feisty and beautiful as ever. Of course, we both know you won’t arrest me. It’s not worth the risk.”
I clenched my jaw and stuck my chin. “Don’t be so sure. I might still be angry that you left me to rot in prison.” I didn’t think it prudent to inform him that my incarceration had been my own doing. “I never guessed you would abandon me so easily.”
“I didn’t abandon you. I merely assumed that the authorities would disapprove of my showing up on Visitation Days. I was going to break you out, really, but first one thing, then another happened. I got … distracted.”
I nodded at the blonde duo standing behind him. “Yeah, I can see that.”
He followed my gaze and then laughed softly as he turned back to me. “Oh, base jealousy doesn’t suit you, darling. Laura and Amanda have only been with me a couple of months.”
One of the two stepped forward and slid a slender arm around his waist. I wasn’t sure if she was giving a warning to me or if she was just reminding Martin that she was there. What. Ever. I got over my infatuation with Martin during my stint in prison. The other girl followed suit and took up a position on his other side. I pointed at them and arched a brow. They weren’t twins but looked enough alike to definitely be related. “Sisters?” I asked.
Martin laughed again and shook his head. “Actually, no. They didn’t even know each other until I introduced them. Uncanny, isn’t it? How similar they are in appearance?” I gave him a disinterested shrug and his smile faltered. He stepped back from their embrace and cleared his throat. “Girls, why don’t you show Karen your true faces?”
The two blondes looked at him and then to each other. The air around both shimmied and warbled as the girl on the right shrunk several inches, her skin darkening to an olive complexion. The other remained the same height as before, but her hair turned dark brown shade and she seemed to gain about fifty pounds.
“Ta-da!” Martin spread his arms as if he’d just pulled off a grand magic trick. “What do you think? Pretty neat, right?”
I tilted my head to the side, studying the girls for a moment. Then I looked at Martin. “Light Manipulation?” Though if that was the case, they’d have to be at least a Class Four to make such a convincing illusion.
He shook his head. “No. They are true metamorphs.”
I blinked and couldn’t stop my mouth dropping open in surprise. True shape-shifters were rare. Almost as rare as Teleporters and Temporal Manipulators. Most could only make minor alterations to their physical appearance. Hair color. Eye color. That sort of thing. But being able to alter and hold hundreds of changes simultaneously? That was pretty damned impressive.
The two girls looked to each other again and resumed their busty blonde forms. I turned back to Martin. “True … your handiwork?”
He nodded. “Yes. It didn’t take a lot of effort to ramp up their powers and give them full control over their shifting. They can even do voices, too. Want to hear?”
I shook my head and looked at the girls again. “They aren’t identical. I figured they would be.”
He shrugged. “They were, at first. I thought the twin thing would be exciting and kinky. But then I kept calling them the wrong names and they got annoyed so …”
I really didn’t need to hear much more. I knew firsthand how adventurous Martin could be in the bedroom. And the living room. Not to mention the back of an armored car. I had lost track of the number of times he’d attempted to talk me into a ménage a trios. He was finally able to get what he always wanted.
For a moment, I wondered if he missed not having me as one of the participants in his realized fantasy. Then the horrid reality of the blonde bimbos’ abilities jumped to the forefront and I turned to Martin with a glare. “Please, please, please tell me that you don’t have one of them shape-shift into me.” I felt nauseous at just the thought of it.
“Of course not. I would never be so crass as to have one of them do such a thing.” Martin smiled a grin I knew all too well. One that said the evil you thought was coming didn’t even scratch the surface. “Ladies, if you wouldn’t mind showing Karen our new game.”
Both blondes sighed and the one on the left tossed in a groaning, “Fine.” They both blurred again for a moment before becoming identical images of me. Not as I was two years ago, but the version of me standing right there on the street in front of them. I couldn’t believe that he would have them morph into my replicas so he could get his freak on.
I balled my hands into fists and debated on if I should punch Martin or the girls. Part of me suggested all three. I cocked my hip to the side and gave him little sneer. “You could barely keep up with just one of me, Martin. How do you ever satisfy two?”
Martin’s smile widened. “I don’t have to do all the work,” he said and nodded to my “twins”. They moved closer to each other, embracing affectionately as they locked mouths in a deep, R-rated exchange of tongues. An unhappy feeling formed in my belly as I stood there in shocked silence and watched myself make out with … myself.
I was fairly certain I was going to hurl if they kept at it. I tore my gaze away from the amorous duo and narrowed my eyes at my ex. “You can either have them stop, Martin. Or I’ll stop them for you.” I held up my fist. “They might be able to look like me, but I doubt they’re as indestructible as me.”
He sighed and snapped his fingers. “That’s enough, girls. Let’s save some for when we get back home.” The two me’s broke apart—a bit too slowly, in my opinion—and shifted back into their busty, blonde, non-Karen forms. Martin continued looking pleased with himself and winked at me. “What would it be like to watch three of you do that, I wonder?”
I didn’t miss the invitation buried in his musing. “Forget it,” I said “Stand-ins and doppelgangers are the only way you’re ever going to see me naked again. Have fun with your dolls, Martin. I’m leaving.”
I strode past him and up the street before I lost control and attempted to see if I could use osmosis to push him through a concrete wall. Of course, just as pissed as I was about Martin trying to get back into my life, I was equally upset with myself for feeling a slight pang of jealousy about not being the one with him. Was I really so firml
y entrenched in the love I’d once had that I wouldn’t ever be able to shake him off?
I could have hauled him in. Even without a currently active EAPF warrant, the authorities would be overjoyed to finally get their hands on the elusive Doctor Maniac. Of course, I’d have to have some way to prove that’s who he was. There were no pictures of Martin anywhere and, as far as I knew, only about a half dozen people knew his name and face. He might remain incarcerated for a few days, a week at the absolute most. Then he’d be free and not even I would be safe from the wrath that would follow.
Alexis’ sunshine-soaked voice chirped in my ear, cutting into the brooding. “Hey, girl. Where are you?”
I sighed and answered. “Ten blocks from HQ.”
“Good. I’m almost done here so I’ll just meet you there. Greg said we could end our shift early so we’d have time to eat before we went shopping.”
I winced. “You didn’t tell him I had a date with Kurt did you?”
There was complete silence for several seconds. Then the teen came back on, this time a little less cheery. “Well, no. I didn’t say anything about it at all. But I think Darla might still be mad about you punching her because she told everyone.”
CHAPTER 12: JUST LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE
“You look awesome,” Alexis said, a gigantic smile on her face. “Detective Sexy isn’t going to know what hit him.”
I turned and looked in the mirror. The girl looking back at me seemed so anxious I couldn’t tell if she was going to float on air or projectile vomit.
I’d let Alexis drag me back to the mall so I could try on forty or fifty different outfits in over a dozen stores. The teen might have been a dervish practically spinning me in and out of dresses and skirts, but she was attentive enough to know something was wrong. After we left the third boutique, she led me to a bench near the wishing fountain and made me sit. She plopped down beside me and looked into my eyes. “Am I being too spazzy?” she asked. “We can totally just leave if you want.”
I patted her hand and shook my head. “No, I don’t want to do that. You’re having too much fun with this and I … I need the distraction.”
“What’s wrong? Did Greg or Richard say something to you about going out on a date with the EAPF?”
I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. I sort of, maybe kinda, ran into my ex earlier.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Oh. My. God. Where? When?”
“Downtown,” I said. “Right after we got that kid Bobby loaded onto the transport. I was heading back to the tower and ran into him.”
She grinned. “He’s all jealous, isn’t he? You’re a big shot hero now. I bet he asked you to get back together with him didn’t he?”
Had he? While I was sure that if I’d agreed to make his triplet fantasy come to life he wouldn’t complain, did Martin really want me back? Not that it would ever happen. Of that I was absolutely positive.
Mostly.
I shook my head. “No. He was with a … he’s moved on. I think.”
“Well, if you ask me, you’re better off. Any guy who doesn’t think you’re a catch is crazy.”
Yes, of that I had no doubt.
I stood up and looked down at her. “Come on, Lexi-chan,” I said using the nickname I’d recently bestowed upon her. “Find me something that will take Kurt’s breath away. Or at least give him a raging boner.”
The teen giggled, covering her mouth with one hand, and then the shopping whirlwind resumed.
We eventually agreed upon an emerald green, A-line dress with a sleeveless halter top. The upper half fit snugly enough to support and accent the girls without squishing, and the bottom flared out just above the knee. It was both fetching and conservative. I had originally complained that it was too loose in multiple spots to be practical. The teen had countered by insisting that it had to be possible for me to go one evening without running into any Enhanced trouble.
I slipped my feet into the matching flats we purchased from the same store. Alexis had protested repeatedly that heels would be better, but I reminded her that my increased density meant that a misstep could put a hole in concrete. Or possibly Kurt’s foot. I turned left and right as I examined myself and then pushed my hair off my neck. “Think I should wear it up?”
The teen tapped her finger against her lips in contemplation and then nodded. “Yes. But to the side, though. I have a barrette that will go great with the dress. Hold on a sec.” She turned and ran through the wall, returning a few moments later with a silver hair clip adorned with imitation emeralds. I held my hair to the side with one hand as I secured the strands in place with the clip.
“Perfect,” she squealed. “You look beautiful.”
I smiled and turned to my reflection again. I had to admit that I did look pretty damned good, despite the butterflies gnawing at my insides. I only hoped that Kurt would feel the same way.
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Amalfi’s Italian Eatery was a quaint building nestled in among the four- and five-story buildings of Charlotte’s cultural district. As I came up the sidewalk to the restaurant, Kurt stood from the stone bench he’d been using and gave me a wide smile. “You look … beautiful,” he said as he gave me a very chaste examination. I reminded myself that he’d seen me at my worst—twice even—and that helped settle some of my nervousness.
“Thank you,” I answered, taking the moment to do a little sightseeing of my own. The light blue polo and khaki slacks fit him perfectly and showed off a more athletic physique than I’d noticed under his business suits. He hadn’t shaved, but the little trace of stubble running along his jaw made him look rugged rather than scruffy. He noticed the attention and smirked, running his hand along his cheek.
“Yeah. I was worried about being late and-”
“I like it,” I said, cutting him off. I forced my hand to stay by my side to resist the urge to run my fingers over his jaw. Too soon for that, Karen.
A little color rose in his cheeks and he extended an arm. “Shall we?”
I allowed him to lead me through the doors into a large room that smelled as if someone had bottled Italy and then liberally used it as an air freshener. The aroma of garlic and oregano wafted all around, tantalizing the senses without overpowering. A stone podium stood guard between the entrance and the dining area beyond. The black and brass sign affixed to the front of it asked that patrons please wait to be seated. And on two comfortable-looking benches nearby, several people did just that, all of them seeming eager for their turn to come.
Kurt and I approached the cheerful-looking teen behind the stand. The handsome detective informed her that we had a reservation, and it only took a moment for the girl to scan the list, nod her head, and scoop up a pair of menus from the table beside her. “Right this way, Mr. Braddock,” she said, turning to guide us through another doorway into the dining room. We followed and stepped into another part of the world.
The décor was pure Mediterranean and looked like pictures I’d seen of Tuscan villas. The floor was stone tiles of various shades and shapes, forming a haphazard mosaic pattern. The walls were a dark yellow color, punctuated at intervals with thick wooden planks stained a dark earthen tone. Shelves of the same type of wood stuck out in multiple locations. Some of them held vases with flowers, others had decorative objects like copper watering cans and weathered garden tools. The far wall had a large, open window into the kitchen, providing an entertaining view of busy chefs and the slightly muffled sounds of organized chaos taking place.
Every table in the spacious dining room was taken with customers who were either awaiting their meal, in the process of devouring the delicious-smelling dishes, or taking a few minutes respite after gorging themselves. Not a single individual looked unhappy or displeased.
The hostess led us away from the crowded dining area to a table on the back patio which overlooked the fountains and walkways of City Center Park. Kurt put his hand on the back of a
chair and pulled it out for me. When I hesitated, he smiled. The more he did that, the more I realized I liked it. “Don’t worry,” he said. “All of the furniture here is dura-steel reinforced. Nick, the owner, is an Enhanced durable himself.”
“Ok.” I said, placing my bottom in the seat. Kurt walked around to his own chair as the hostess handed us each a thick menu and promised our server would be along soon. I was very impressed that the good detective had anticipated my need for a tougher-than-normal chair. I could hear Alexis whispering “bonus points” in my head. I had to agree.
Less than a minute later, our server—a twenty-something with bright streaks of blue running through her brown hair—arrived and asked if we wanted a pre-meal beverage. Then her mouth dropped open and the pointed at me. “Holy crap! You’re Kayo.”
I nodded, looking around nervously. A couple nearby turned to see what the fuss was about. Denying it would have been futile. “That’s me.”
“I used to think you were super awesome back when you were Crushette. Of course, I was going through this rebellious phase with my step-mother. You know how it is.”
I didn’t have a step-mother. But my own family relations were far from the stuff of Hallmark cards. “Must have been tough.”
She nodded. “Then you went to jail and I started following that hero Whirlwind, but then she quit to have kids or something. And now you’re back, only this time as a Good Guy.” She thrust her pen and pad out towards me. “Can I get your autograph? Please?”
“Uh,” I looked over at Kurt. His expression shifted between amusement at my newly-discovered fame and annoyance, probably because our conversation was interrupted. “Sure,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him. I scribbled my name on the pad and then handed it back to her. “There. Any chance we could order?”
“Order? Oh! Yeah.” The girl twirled the pen in a circle around her temple. “Sorry for spacing out like that. What can I get you?”
“Uh,” I said, flipping open the menu and hastily making a choice. “Small chef salad, no egg. With the low-fat balsamic dressing on the side.”