We Could Be Heroes 2

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We Could Be Heroes 2 Page 11

by Harmon Cooper


  “You didn’t do anything,” Dr. Hamza told him, well aware that the man couldn’t hear him. “And you should think of this a different way. You should think of this as science, and yourself as helping the rest of Centralia, and for that matter the entire world. I am the one that gave you the vampire infection, and I’m the one that has now taken it away, three times. But we’re going to have to do this several more times, and we’re going to have to wait it out for a while, to thoroughly test my discovery. There can be no mistakes here.”

  Dr. Hamza took a step back. He looked at the man for a moment, aware that his subject thought that he was insane. It was a pity, really, that the man couldn’t see just how important this discovery was.

  “You’ll understand in due time,” Dr. Hamza assured him, “in due time.”

  ***

  Dr. Hamza was stepping into his bedroom to take down some notes when he received a message from Scarlett the teleporter.

  She wanted to meet with him, to discuss something private. And initially, he declined.

  Dr. Hamza had way too much to do at the moment, plus the repairman was coming in the afternoon, and he needed to be there to dose the man with his mind control serum, hoping that it would help the repairman work faster and more efficiently.

  But he did have a few hours to kill…

  Rather than agree to meet Scarlett at his home, knowing that his place was in no condition for visitors (even aside from the fact that he still needed to keep his current experiment a secret), Dr. Hamza asked her to meet him at a tea shop a couple of blocks away.

  So a date.

  Sort of.

  In an attempt to look more like a civilian, Hamza took off his lab coat, and put on a black jacket, glancing at himself in the mirror for a moment, at his blonde hair with strips of gray in it, his beard stubble, the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t eaten in a while, and he suddenly found himself feeling hungry.

  And maybe it was a good thing to go out for a while, to get some fresh air.

  It would be nice to see Scarlett as well, Dr. Hamza having not forgotten how she had helped him out when he was in a very bad place.

  “In this room, actually,” he whispered to himself, looking to where he had laid on the floor, not able to use the lower half of his body, lying in his own shit.

  Tragic.

  Hell no, Dr. Hamza hadn’t forgotten about the four wannabe heroes who had fucked him over. But he had plans for them, and he thought of these plans as he stepped out the front door, being sure to lock it behind him.

  He took the steps down to the gate in front of his home and turned left. His eyes darted to a woman walking her dog, a shapely lady in exercise gear that screamed for people to pay attention to her, to see just how much she worked out.

  A non-exemplar.

  “No, an exemplar,” Dr. Hamza said to himself as he took another look at her, a fact he discerned from some of the energy radiating around her.

  A normal person wouldn’t have been able to see it, but Dr. Hamza was no longer a normal person, and while he didn’t quite know what power she had, if he stared at her long enough, he could probably figure it out.

  But that was impolite, and Dr. Hamza knew to behave himself in public.

  As he walked to the tea shop, he thought about grabbing a newspaper, just to give himself something to read while he waited for Scarlett. Then again, teleporters were usually on time because it wasn’t hard for them to be punctual. This assumption turned out to be right as he approached a place with seating out front, a few people gathered around hot cups of tea, discussing whatever it was normal people talked about.

  “I thought I’d get here before you,” Scarlett said.

  “You did,” Dr. Hamza told her with a smile.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right,” she said as she went for the door.

  “Let me get that for you,” Dr. Hamza told her as he opened the door for the teleporter, letting her in. As usual, Scarlett wore black, her brunette hair in a cute side bun. The teleporter was all curves, and Hamza couldn’t help but feel a surge in his gut when he saw her.

  Damn, she’d be fun to bang.

  Scarlett looked a little tired, but Dr. Hamza didn’t say anything, ignoring what his power was telling him. He truly was happy to have some human interaction, Hamza not at all considering what he was doing at his lab (i.e. torturing someone) as human interaction.

  “What would you like?” he asked her, turning to the register.

  “Just a green tea for me,” Scarlett said.

  “Will do.”

  Dr. Hamza ordered a green tea for Scarlett, and a black tea with honey and lemon for himself, as well as a couple of scones and a ham and cheese croissant. He thought about ordering some dessert for them to share, but decided not to in the end.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything,” Scarlett said as he approached the table with the plates of food.

  “Who said any of this was for you?”

  Scarlett chuckled as Dr. Hamza returned with the teas, and went to work right away on the scone.

  “It is miraculous how quickly you healed,” she said. “And that’s sort of what I’m here to talk to you about.”

  “I told you,” he said, giving her a brisk smile, “I’m not able to replicate how I was healed, and well... you saw the four exemplars at the construction site.”

  “You mean the residential development?”

  “Same difference. It was one of them who did it,” he said, “the one in the schoolgirl uniform.”

  “Yes, what a strange superhero uniform. Anyway, I’m here to talk about something related.”

  “I’m listening…” Hamza said as ate his scone. He didn’t have the greatest manners, not when he was this hungry, but Scarlett didn’t seem to mind that he was stuffing his face now, as he finished the first scone and moved on to the ham and cheese croissant.

  “I believe that, if I’m lucky, I will be running into the usage of a healer, a real healer, in the near future.”

  “When?”

  “Just a few days from now, maybe sooner.”

  “And you’re telling me this because?”

  Scarlett shrugged. “I thought you might find that interesting; and I thought you might want a sample of the healer’s blood for research purposes.”

  “I’m not interested in healers,” Dr. Hamza said, second-guessing himself as soon as the words came out of his mouth. “Actually... I would be able to replicate healing power now. I’m pretty sure of that. And then we wouldn’t have to worry about healing exemplars ever again.”

  “Yes, I was hoping you would say something like that,” Scarlett said, taking a sip from her tea, trying to contain her excitement. “I… I don’t really know what you are capable of, but there’s something different about you now, and I’m guessing that the explosion at your home has something to do with it. Correct?”

  “Correct,” he said, drinking more of his tea. “I haven’t gone over everything with you, but you should know that the answer to what you just said is ‘yes,’ something did happen at the explosion, and now I have the power to do something.”

  “An intelligence-based power?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Something about the look in your eyes.”

  “Yeah, you caught me red-handed,” he said, showing her his hands. Scarlett chuckled.

  There was definitely chemistry between them, chemistry he could actually see, but he wasn’t going to do anything about that for the time being.

  “So anyway, if I do come into contact with the healer, I’m guessing you would want to meet with this person, correct?”

  “One hundred percent,” Dr. Hamza told her. “I don’t think it’ll take me much time to break down the healing components, and create a medicine that fully replicates the effect.”

  “I have another question for you,” she said, slowly lowering her teacup to the table. “Would you be interested in going into business with me after you created it?”
<
br />   “What part of the business would you be taking care of exactly?” Dr. Hamza asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

  “Distribution. I am a teleporter, and I can help get the product out. Because I’m a little bit more presentable to the public, maybe I could deal with that aspect of it as well. Marketing.”

  “We may not have to do much,” Dr. Hamza told her. “I might or might not know someone at the Knight Corporation who would be interested in this. I know that they aren’t into pharmaceuticals, but I’m pretty sure this would be a great way to enter the business. I can see it now: the Knight Corporation introduces a healing serum to the general public. Yes, yes,” he said, reaching his hand across the table, “if you can bring me an actual healer, I will replicate the power, and cut you in on it somehow. Sound fair?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Scarlett said as she shook his hand.

  Chapter Fourteen: Zoe Sort of Plays Nice

  (Later that night in another part of Centralia.)

  Zoe Goa Ramone’s day had been pretty good so far.

  She’d gotten some serious training in, with at least an hour spent whipping Sam into shape; then more training with Helena (she was eternally frustrated by how perfect the heiress was but Zoe was actually learning from the lean combat dancer, so she tolerated it); lunch with the team, Sam activating his sense of touch power-up and carefully wolfing down a catered meal; then more training, this time working on some of their auxiliary weapons, which mostly involved Sam and Ozella and their wrist guards; followed by Zoe and Helena testing Dinah with everything they had.

  Nope, they couldn’t kill her.

  All in all, a good day, and once her own power-up activated, Zoe Goa Ramone appeared at the modeling agency looking like a badass as usual, hoping that the previous little mishap she’d had would be swept under the rug.

  Some of the other girls scoffed as she walked past, Zoe in a hooded sweater and leopard print tights, the hood down, her hair in a top knot.

  Lots of jealous bitches around, but Zoe was used to haters, and as long as she kept an eye on the time (through the use of a plastic watch she’d “borrowed” from Helena), she’d be able to get her shoot done and make some fat cash in the process.

  Sabrina, a blonde with a perfectly placed mole to the left of her nostril, started up just about as soon as she saw Zoe.

  “Look who decides to finally come in,” she said, the girls around her laughing. “What happened last time? Did I see a tail?”

  Zoe ignored her as she sat in the dressing room chair, the makeup artist immediately attending to her.

  Tiger Lily, which was the name Zoe used when modeling, was becoming an even hotter commodity, especially now that she’d just got word that she’d received an endorsement deal with a company affiliated with the Knight Corporation.

  This wasn’t Helena’s doing; Zoe had started the process a month before she’d even met the heiress. But now that word was out, and her photos were in high demand, Zoe found herself being the center of attention in a way she wasn’t quite prepared for, her modeling agency willing to bend over backwards to accommodate her strange, one-hour-a-day schedule.

  Of course, the other models, Sabrina included, thought that Zoe was just pulling some diva shit, but that was their prerogative.

  Zoe was glad that, aside from Sabrina, no one had said anything about her storming out last time, her half-tiger face just barely hidden by her hood.

  Damn, she’d gotten lucky there.

  Once her makeup was done, Zoe ignored a few snide remarks as she made her way to wardrobe, where she was outfitted in just about the fanciest retro Centralian dress she’d ever seen.

  Bedazzled, sparkly, low-cut, it reminded Zoe of something a rich teenager would wear to prom. But it checked the box on a few fetishes, so she went with it, looking fly as fuck by the time she stepped out of wardrobe and went straight to the photoshoot area.

  It was the same photographer as last time, a transgender guy with too much blue makeup around his eyes this time, his look was cute enough though, and it reminded Zoe of what Sam would have to endure the following night...

  “Is something the matter, dear?” the photographer asked.

  “Just love your makeup.”

  “Thank you,” the photographer said. “But enough chit-chat, it’s time to show the world who Tiger Lily really is!”

  He lifted his camera and started taking shots, his assistant changing the lighting and Zoe feeling the heat almost immediately.

  It only took her a few minutes to get into her element, tunnel vision setting in as she focused solely on the photographer, staring deeply into the lens as she brought a hand to her mouth, her finger pressed to her lip.

  “Let’s take that watch off,” he told her.

  “Absolutely not,” she told him as she lightly lifted her hand behind her head, pushing her hair up, her elbows splayed.

  She lifted the ends of her dress, bringing it up to a point that it stopped just beneath the bottom of her ass cheeks. Looking over her shoulder, she made a kissy face at the photographer, who was nodding as he took more photos, his assistant now wide-eyed.

  “Focus on the lighting, not on the model,” the photographer reminded his assistant, and the young man snapped back to attention, picking up a reflective surface and moving to Zoe’s right.

  “Jump for me,” the photographer told her. Lifting the ends of her dress, Zoe started to jump, lightly at first, but then she really put some power into it.

  She was laughing now, a huge, sexy grin on her face as she tried to stifle her laughter, again focusing on producing the perfect shot.

  It felt like time had slowed down, that it was just Zoe and her audience now, the photographer and his assistant blurs in front of her.

  Eventually, her watch beeped, letting Zoe know she had fifteen minutes left before the transformation took place.

  “We need to wrap this up,” she said with a smile and a wink, the click of the camera again meeting her ears.

  “What are you talking about?” the photographer asked. “We just started!”

  “You know my contract,” she told him.

  “Just a few more. I promise.”

  “Let’s turn this up a notch,” Zoe said, pulling her dress down a little, her breasts going down with her hand before bouncing up. She dropped her hand to her waist and jutted her chest forward, turning her head to the right.

  “Love it, love it, love it,” the photographer said. “I absolutely love this!”

  Her watch beeped five minutes later, letting Zoe know that she really needed to wrap things up now.

  “Just a few more,” she told him, “I’m serious.” Zoe crouched, bringing her elbows to her knees, her hands under her chin as she made a pouty face.

  “Definitely cute, so cute. People are going to think this is so cute.”

  She kept up the pouty face, puffing out her cheeks a bit. Her watch sounded again, letting her know she had five minutes until her transformation took place.

  “Got to go. Bye-ee!” Zoe said as she made her way to the exit, barreling back into the dressing room and whipping her dress off.

  She slipped into her tights and hooded sweater, pulling the sweater over her ass to hide the hole that she had cut through the top of her tights. With that, Zoe took the back entrance, stepping out into an alley. She was just about to jump to a fire escape and make her way to a rooftop when a fist came out of the dark.

  Zoe dodged the fist, hearing a yelp as she caught the fist and brought the woman to the ground, her knee pressed into the woman’s back.

  “Sabrina?” Zoe asked, tightening up her hold on her assailant.

  “Let me up, you fucking bitch!” Sabrina hissed.

  Zoe kept her there for a moment, her knee still on the model’s back, Sabrina’s arm nearly at the snapping point.

  She could do it.

  Zoe could easily break her arm, which would definitely make her think twice about trying to ambush someone. But her transformati
on was starting to take place, Zoe could feel it, her tail pressing against the back of her tights, her ears forcing her hood off her head, the right side of her face starting its transformation.

  “You are very lucky,” Zoe told Sabrina as she helped her to her feet. “Don’t look at me; keep looking straight ahead.”

  “You’re hurting me,” Sabrina whimpered.

  “You tried to…” Zoe shook her head. There was going to be no reasoning with this woman at the moment. “Keep looking forward, I’m going to stand you up, and if you move, I swear to fuck I’ll break your arm.”

  “You don’t deserve the Knight contract; you don’t deserve to be the most sought-after model with this company…”

  “Is that what this is about?” Zoe asked her as she led Sabrina to the darker part of the alley, where the lights couldn’t reach.

  “I’ve been here way longer than you…”

  “You dumb bitch,” Zoe told her. “You know nothing about my life, nor the training I’ve had. Nothing. You’re so lucky.”

  Just saying this last statement made Zoe even angrier, especially because she already knew that Sabrina would never realize how lucky she was, how quickly Zoe could rearrange her features, or snap her bones. How would modeling work out for Sabrina if her face was covered in huge claw marks?

  But Zoe knew better.

  She was part of Vigilante Justice now, someone trying to be a hero, despite how she looked twenty-three hours a day.

  Still, this didn’t mean she couldn’t rough Sabrina up a little bit, considering the woman had tried to ambush her. Once Zoe was in the dark, she pushed Sabrina up against the wall, pressing her face against the brick.

  “Kiss it,” Zoe told her, and even though it was too dark for a normal person to see, Zoe’s power came with enhanced senses, allowing her to see clearly.

  She could make out Sabrina’s face as she pressed her head into the brick, Sabrina’s lips eventually puckering, her head turning ever so slightly as she kissed the brick wall.

 

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