Ultimate Warriors (21 page)

     
"Any city."

     
Julien
searched the card.

     
As if he
understood Julien’s concern from years of dealing with new Suraden-born powers,
Tyler removed his own card and passed it across the table. "They are the
same. It doesn’t mark you as a power in any way. You have to choose many things
— and learn a few things."

     
Tyler
motioned the people with him in turn. "Mary will tutor you in history,
customs and laws. Neil will help you choose where you will live."

     
Julien
looked to Angel. "Where do you live?" he asked solemnly.

     
She
laughed heartily. "The Greek isles, but I’ve considered relocating to
Eire."

     
He
waited patiently for her answer.

     
"Eire,"
she decided.

     
Julien
nodded and looked to Neil. "Eire — if you please."

     
Tyler
looked from Julien to Angel in confusion. "If you’d like Neil to show you
the choices you have," he began.

     
Julien
nodded. "For travel," he assured them. "I would like to know
this world."

     
Tyler
shrugged and moved on. "Sarah will help you choose clothing and belongings
with your initial stipend. Since you are uncomfortable with your situation, we
will do as much as we can via electronic purchases. Last but not least, Evelyn
will arrange for your job certifications, education, and other paperwork."

     
Julien
darkened. "What paperwork does one need to marry on this world?" he
asked.

     
Angel
choked. "I haven’t said yes," she managed in a harsh whisper.

     
Tyler
stifled a laugh and hid a smile behind his hand.

     
Julien
smiled and stroked her cheek.
"Aloud?
No. You
haven’t — yet."

     
She
blushed and shot a sheepish look at the end of the table. "Evelyn, if you
don’t mind," she hinted.

     
Julien
drew her face back to his. "Tell me."

     
Angel
smiled. "Yes. I will marry you."

The End

By

Joy Nash

©
copyright
August 2004, Joy Nash

     
Wednesday, 10:47 p.m.

     
Three
days, one hour, thirteen minutes, and counting…

     
Oh, man.
It was his lucky day. An original 1951 Action Comics #158, The Kid from
Krypton, shimmered before his eyes, thirteen minutes from closing on eBay.

     
Yes!
Clark Kendall raised both arms in a two-fisted salute to the superhero gods.
He’d lusted after this particular Superman comic book for ages. Now it was as
good as his.

     
He typed
in his bid the old-fashioned way.
On his laptop keyboard.
It launched into cyberspace just as the telephone shrilled.

     
He
snagged the receiver. "Heroes Incorporated. Yeah, we deliver. Go
ahead."

     
He
shifted the phone to one shoulder as he watched the eBay screen refresh.
"One roast beef hero sandwich, no onions.
One Italian
hero, hold the mayo.
Drinks with that?
Two Cokes.
Your address?
Right.
Got it.
Twenty
minutes."

     
He cut
the connection, wondering how long it would be before the hungry customers
figured out their dinner wasn’t coming.
Amazing.
Even
with absolutely no advertising, the fake New York-style sub shop four levels
above his head still managed to attract business.
Almost made
him want to open a strip mall take-out restaurant in Newark, New Jersey for
real.

     
Almost, but not quite.

     
He
pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and squinted at the laptop screen.
Damn. Someone had topped his bid. He typed in a counteroffer and sent it
scurrying across the broadband connection.

     
"Hey, Clark."

     
He
swiveled his desk chair toward the door, swallowing hard. Diana Price had come
looking for him? More luck. That only happened in his dreams.

     
He
watched as the shapely Amazonian princess sashayed into the Heroes Incorporated
control room, forty-four-and-a-half double D’s all but exploding out of her
skimpy costume. When she leaned over the back of his chair and brushed her
chest against his shoulders, he nearly passed out.

     
"What
are you doing?" she asked, peering at the computer screen.

     
Trying
desperately to breathe, Clark thought, but masculine pride prevented him from
cluing Diana in on that little bit of information.

     
"I’m
on eBay," he told her. "I put in a bid on a Superman comic
book."

     
"Think
you’ll get it?"

     
He
craned his neck to get a better look at her boobs without being too obvious.
Did he think he’d get it? God, he hoped so.

     
"Clark?
You okay?"

     
He gave
himself a mental shake. "Yeah, fine. Listen," he said, forcing a
casual tone. "My shift’s almost done. You want to go out for a drink
afterward?"

     
Diana’s red lips quirked knowingly at him.
Too knowingly.
He knew he was toast even before she started
laughing.

     
"I
can’t." She presented him a smile reserved for children, puppies, and guys
who were about to get the shaft. "I’ve got a date with Bruce."

     
Clark’s
fist closed on his mouse so tightly it was a wonder the thing didn’t let out a
squeal.
Bruce Wynn, superhero.
Scratch that.
Superjerk.

     
"He’s
just using you for the sex, you know."

     
Diana
only laughed. "That’s what makes it fun." She gave him a little hug.
"Aw, Clark, are you jealous? That’s so sweet."

     
He felt
his cheeks heat.
Sweet.
Yeah, that’s what every
superhero aspired to be.

     
As if on
cue, Bruce appeared at the door, arms crossed over his steroid-enhanced chest.
Muscles bulged under his gray spandex shirt and black tights. He wasn’t wearing
his cape, but Clark could almost see the shiny black fabric flapping in an
imaginary breeze.

     
Bruce
nodded toward Diana.
"Babe."
His moody gaze
shifted the tiniest bit to the right. "Clark."

     
Diana
gushed
a reply, making Clark slightly nauseous. Sure, Bruce
was something to look at--and if you believed half the rumors, a veritable god
in bed--but was that all a woman wanted in a guy? You’d think the ripped
physique, perfect profile, and gloomy angst would get old after a while.

     
Bruce
and Diana melded into a liplock. Clark pushed his glasses up the bridge of his
nose and turned back to eBay. Only two minutes left, and he’d been knocked off
the top again. Hell. He upped his bid into four figures and sent it flying. No
way was he going to let this one go.

     
The
phone rang again.

     
"Heroes
Incorporated," Clark droned,
then
snapped to
attention when Captain Marvelous’ radio-announcer voice crackled across the
line.

     
"Clark,
round up the troops. We’ve got a situation."

     
"A situation, Captain?"

     
From the
corner of his eye, he saw Bruce and Diana disengage.

     
"Can’t
say any more on an unsecured line, son, but I can tell you it’s not good. Tell
every hero we’ve got on the books to report to my ready room in one hour."

     
Damn.
Clark couldn’t remember the last time the Captain had ordered a full HI
assembly. This was major. Another threat to life as they all knew it, most
likely.

     
His gaze
drifted back to eBay. His mysterious opponent had posted a winning bid two
seconds before the countdown expired.

     
It
looked like Clark’s luck had run out.

* * * *

     
Wednesday, 11:00 p.m.

     
Three
days, one hour, and counting...

     
Yes!

     
Blossom
Breeze sprang to her feet and did a little victory dance around her chair. That
last minute bidder had come out of nowhere. She’d practically broken out in a
cold sweat, but somehow she managed to squeak in under the wire to win the eBay
bid for Action Comics #158, The Kid from Krypton. She’d only been looking for
that particular issue forever. After it was framed, she’d hang it on her wall
right between her signed portraits of Christopher Reeve and Dean Cain.

     
She
collapsed in her chair and beamed at the screen. Life was perfect.

     
A
nanosecond later, an Instant Message from Bernie popped up on her screen.

     
Blossom>

     
Okay,
well maybe not so perfect.

     
Bernie> she typed back. If there were an emoticon for rolling eyes, she
would have added it. Bernie was sitting on the other side of the cubicle
partition on her left, less than five feet away.

     
Another
geek occupied the cubicle to her right. Oh, sure, she could put a positive spin
on things and say she spent every night surrounded by single men under thirty,
but where would that get her? She’d still be right here in the computer lab at
Megalopolis Polytechnic Institute.

     
She
sighed as a series of numbers materialized in her IM window. Another one of
Bernie’s freaking mathematical cryptograms. A second later, his head popped up
over the partition, all bright eyes and big ears.

     
"Well,
what do you say?"

     
Blossom
squinted at Bernie’s coded message, but late as it was, the numbers could have
spelled out "Do you want to get naked?" and she wouldn’t have even
known it.

     
She
blinked at the screen.

     
Hey.
Wait a minute.

     
Do you
want to
...
A sudden vision of a naked Bernie appeared
in her brain, nearly shorting out the major synapses. Oh, please. No.
Anything but that.
Bernie weighed all of one hundred and
thirty pounds, soaking wet. Naked or clothed, he wasn’t a feast for the eyes.

     
She
steeled herself to decipher the rest of the coded sentence. ...go to the Star
Trek convention tomorrow?

     
Her
breath left in a rush. Thank you, God.

     
"So?
Do you?" Bernie’s goofy grin stretched from ear to ear, his tongue lolling
out of his mouth, puppy-dog style. No doubt he thought encrypted IM
propositioning a very clever way to procure female companionship.

     
"James
Doohan’s going to be there," he said in a wheedling tone.

     
Blossom
gave him a thin smile. "I’d love to, Bernie. I really would. But
tomorrow’s not good for me." I have to feed my goldfish. And wash my hair.
And visit my gynecologist.
"Maybe some other time."

     
"Geez,
that’s too bad. A bunch of us are going to my place afterwards for a TOS
marathon." TOS, Blossom knew only too well, was Geekspeak for Star Trek,
The Original Series.
As in Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock.

     
"Sorry.
I’ll have to pass."

     
"Your
loss," Bernie said, and ducked back into his cell.