Tuesday, February 16, 1988
Dona & Steven Roberts’ house
3005 NW 14th St
Miami, Florida
“Mom is Christine up yet?” Steve Roberts asks his mother sounding slightly panicked over the phone.
“Yes dear, what is wrong?” Dona Roberts asks with concern. “She’s getting ready for school.”
“I need to talk with her, please,” Steve says, trying to sound calmer.
“Here she is now,” Dona says as her daughter enters the kitchen. “It’s your brother, he sounds upset.” Dona hands the phone to her daughter.
“Little early for you isn’t it?” Christine asks. “Weren’t you out all night saving the world?”
“Just listen to me for a minute,” Steve says. “I had a dream that you were in trouble.” “Someone was after you, but it wasn’t you they were after.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Christine questions.
“I don’t know but I want you to be careful today!” Steve insists. “My dream’s aren’t always clear, but I know this is going to happen!” “I’m going to get on a plane as soon as I can!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you blockhead, I’ll be fine,” Christine insists. “My life is very dull, no one is coming after me.” Christine can hear the emotion in her brother’s voice but she still thinks he is just over reacting. “You have been playing hero for too long, there isn’t a super-villain lurking behind every corner.”
“Seriously, I wish you would stay home from school today until I get there,” Steve pleads.
“I have never taken a sick day from school in my life,” Christine retorts. “I’m not going to do it now because my big brother had a bad dream.”
“Christine, what is this about a bad dream?” her mother interrupts.
“Talk to you later blockhead,” Christine says into the phone before she reaches out her arm to hand the receiver to her mother. “You son has completely gone around the bend this time.”
“Mom, Mom!” Steve shouts through the phone. “Don’t hang up!”
Dona puts the receiver to her ear, “Steve what is this all about?” she asks.
“Is there any way you can keep an eye on Christine today?” Steve asks. “I had a weird dream about her last night and I think she is going to be in danger possibly this afternoon.”
“I guess I could take a half day from work, swing by her school around lunch time,” Dona suggests whispering to not be heard by her daughter. “It is a slow time of year at the Museum anyway.”
American Heritage School
607 NW 32nd St.
Miami, FL
Principal Hubert calls Christine Roberts and Justine Hurd to her office. The girls step into the office to find Detective Hernandez sitting behind the Principal’s desk. “Good Morning ladies,” Detective Hernandez addresses them as Principal Hubert leaves, closing the door behind him. “Please take a seat.”
The girls look at each other as they sit down in the chairs in front of the desk. Neither of them have any idea of what is going on. The detective stands up without saying a word to walk behind each of the girls leaning forward slightly to inhale softly. He strolls back around in front of the girls.
“Miss Hurd, it is good to see you again after your visit to the station,” Detective Hernandez begins. Justine gets a confused look on her face.
“What are you talking about?” Justine questions. “Why are we here?”
“That is what I thought, you may go Miss Hurd,” Detective Hernandez tells the girl. “Clearly you have never been to the Police Station.” “You can go back to class.” “I would like to speak with Miss Roberts privately.” Justine cautiously gets up from the chair looking to her friend.
“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” Christine assures her friend. Justine leaves the room and the Detective sits back down behind the desk. “If it is a date you are looking for, I am not interested.” “You being a cop, the jailbait thing surprises me.”
“Very cute Miss Roberts,” Detective Hernandez responds. “I’m here about Martin Strauss.” Christine gives no reaction to the mention of the Drug Lord’s name. He smiles at the teenage girl. “You are good I must admit.” “We first met last year at a crime scene, the death of Dominic Argento.” Christine remains unmoved by the detective’s retelling of history. “A few weeks later, I got a tip on the Cartel Drug Lord Martin Strauss at the station,” Detective Hernandez reveals. “It was a strange tip.” “I searched for the tipster, following a young girl down the fire stairs.” “When I reached the bottom I spotted Miss Hurd, not the girl I saw entering the stairs.” “I spoke with her, gave her a business card.” Christine Roberts is still unmoved by the detective’s words.
“My brother was a cop, I know you can’t question me without my parents here,” Christine interjects.
“I’m not questioning you, I’m telling you a story,” the detective explains. “When I had the surveillance tape pulled, you do know that a Police Station is filled with cameras right?” Detective Hernandez asks. “The video of the upstairs showed a girl entering the stairwell, but it was not the one I saw.” The detective pushes several still photos taken from video across the desk to Christine. “She wore a baseball cap pulled down over her face and a hoodie.” “Avoided cameras with her face.” Detective Hernandez smiles. “Moreover the video of me talking with Miss Hurd, did not show your friend but that mystery hoodie girl.” “Justine Hurd was never at the Station that day.” Christine Roberts shifts in her chair showing the first signs of a reaction.
“The thing I couldn’t figure out was the missing fingerprints on the fire door and why the alarm didn’t sound,” Detective Hernandez suggests. “I watched the video of the girl entering the stairwell over and over.” “It wasn’t until I slowed down the video that saw that she never touched the door, it opened on its own.” “That could only be explained as Zeni-human.” The mention of the word causes a reaction from the girl in the chair. “Yes, I know about Zeni-humans.”
“That is the only reason I followed up on the tip to arrest Martin Strauss,” Detective Hernandez explains. “The strange thing was the night after the raid I had no memory of it, no one did.” “But I have a way around that, a way I have never told anyone about.” “I am confident in the feeling that I can trust you with my secret.” “I have something of a talent myself.” “My Granny called it hindsight.” “I sometimes dream of the past.” “The night after the raid on the freighter I had such a dream.” “I dreamt everything that happened as the Coast Guard boarded that ship.” “It would appear that Strauss is a Zeni-human as well, made everyone there forget what happened.”
Detective Hernandez is silent for a moment watching Christine Roberts’ body language. Nothing he has said has surprised her at all. It is as if she already knows all of it. “Which brought me back to the girl at the station and this book.” Hernandez lays an evidence bag on the desk containing American Heritage School’s 86-87 yearbook. “It belonged to Dominic Argento.” “I used it in my research of his case.”
“I thought Dominic was an overdose,” Christine asks a question for the first time.
“So did I at first,” Detective Hernandez reveals. “I found the photo of the girl I saw at the Police Station, Carly Jackson.” “But she had moved to California in December.” “I also found Justine Hurd’s photo, but you, your photo is marked not available.”
“I started at the School after the photos were taken,” Christine replies. “So how did you find me?” she asks curiously.
“I saw you in a dream,” Detective Hernandez reveals with a smile. “The Strauss case didn’t end with that botched raid.” “I was called to a Bar at the docks.” “The witnesses described a young woman with blue hair and a jumpsuit to match that sent the bar into chaos.” “Another Zeni-human, or was it the same one all along?”
Christine responds, “What does that have to do with me?”
Detective Hernandez smiles smugly again. “Dreamt of that ‘bar raid’ it would seem that my dreams are like cameras, it reveals what human eyes do not.” “I watched as that young woman raised her hands to stop bullets, use telekinetic blasts to send ten men across the room at once.” “That night at the Seawall Inn it was you in the center of all that chaos, not a young woman with blue hair or even a costume.”
Christine laughs at the detective. “Your subconscious has a good imagination.” “If that is all true, if I am some kind of super mental warrior, what is to stop me from wiping your mind like the bartender?”
“Did I say the bartender’s mind was wiped?” Detective Hernandez asks with a smile. “I guess when I relive this day in a dream I will know if I did or not.” “I’ll also know what you did as Powersurge.”
“What is the point of all of this, Detective Hernandez,” Christine asks frustrated by the cop.
“I just wanted to thank Powersurge, without her help we could have never put away Martin Strauss,” Detective Hernandez says sincerely. “Without her sealing his powers he could have continued running the Cartel forever.” “I’m on your side if you ever need help just ask.” He passes his business card across the desk. “I figure you threw away the last one.” “That is what I would have done.” “One last thing, it was the smell of ‘Love So Soft’ that gave you away.” “Powersurge might be wise to remember that in the future.”
Vizcaya Museum & Gardens
3251 S Miami Ave
Miami, FL
It is 10:30am and Dona Roberts has only a few things to finish up before she can skip out for the day to follow up on her son’s suspicions. Authenticating new acquisitions is part of her job. At her age she has seen most of the things that come through the museum when they were brand new. Identifying the age, use and origin of ancient pieces is a simple task for her. Having finished up examining three new acquisitions Dona gathers them up to place them in their protective cases. It seems silly to her to have such high respect for an old stone used to grind wheat about three hundred years ago, but even though that isn’t a long time to her for most people it is four lifetimes.
Returning with the cases to the Relic storage room Dona gets an old tinge at the back of her skull. Her mundane lifestyle usually has little occasion for her danger sense to flare but she still can’t ignore it. Remaining casual she unlocks the storage room and returns the relics to their places on the shelving. Then quietly walking to the back of the vault-like room she locates a fifteenth century sword that she removes from its case. It hasn’t been used in battle for nearly five centuries but it will work just fine for her cause.
Listening carefully she can hear the stealthy footsteps of another three aisle over. Remaining just as quiet she takes her place at the end of the shelving as her danger sense flares stronger. Dona stabs the sword up into the light fixture that hangs from the ceiling. An entire circuit of the overhead lighting in the room is shorted out. She anticipated the length of the aisle and counted the steps on the floor as her foe approached. Then at the last moment she turns and swings the sword out.
The old blade is met with the sound of metal on metal as it strikes a bronze gauntlet even older than itself. In the dim light she can not see her attacker’s face, but she can feel his strength as he pushes back against the sword. The amazon will not be taken down so easily. She releases the sword from the stalemate to spin around in a windmill kick to send her foe back against the block wall. The adrenaline that rushes through her blood fuels her joy of battle. Dona lunges forward at her fallen foe to subdue him.
“Dona, that is enough,” the man on the floor says raising his hand into the light making the bronze gauntlet on his wrist shine. “I just wanted to see if you are still in fighting form. The man says as Dona pulls back into a cautious defensive position. “You have made it clear to me you are still a force to be reckoned with.” The large muscular man stands up into the light that shines through the window glass in the door. His olive skin and shoulder length dark wavy hair is unmistakable to Dona.
“Hershel!” she announces at the sight of his face as he stands up to his full six foot, four height. “What are you doing here?” “It has been nearly eight hundred years since I last saw you!” Dona knows this Nozama’s appearance here in Florida is far from a vacation trip. She fears she knows the reason why he has sought her out.
“I was in Australia when I witnessed the battle in Philadelphia with Samso on the Television News,” the brooding man tells her. “I know it is only a powerful Nozama or Amazon who could possibly have released him from his prison.” “And that Master Warrior fought like no Nozama I have ever seen.” “So that leaves only you, the most family oriented Amazon who would know who he is.”
“Surely you did not come all this way to confirm with me that Master Warrior is my son,” Dona scoffs, returning the old sword to its proper place in the storage room.
“I came here to ask how you could possibly allow him to make a public spectacle of himself?” Hershel demands. “Surely you warned him of the dangers we all face by making our existence known to mankind!”
“I did not allow my son to do anything,” Dona retorts. “It is his destiny!”
“And my brother and your Queen Orana believed it was their destiny to rule mankind by force and domination!” Hershel asserts. “You know full well that if we had allowed that to happen it would have been a terrible fate for the world!”
“Steve is different, he is destined to be a great hero, perhaps even greater than any who have come before!” Dona insists forcefully. “I stand by his decision to go public!” “How can you not with how he defeated Samso by outwitting him.” “Something not even you could do!”
“Outwitted him,” Hershel scoffs. “Weakling’s game at best.” “All that truly matters is where had Samso been imprisoned?” “I assure you he will not stay there as long as he did in the prison I put him in!”
“My son sent him to Mist on Magic Island to be imprisoned with the others who could not be killed,” Dona replies.
The mighty Nozama is silent for a moment thinking over the prison that Magic Island has been for others. “I will admit it is a good place to put my power crazed brother, but I have never fully trusted that immortal, Mist.” “I would like to meet this son of yours, make a backup plan for if Samso should escape again.” “You know as well as I, that at his core Samso lives for vengeance.”
American Heritage School
607 NW 32nd St.
Miami, FL
Justine meets up after school with Christine to walk home. “What was that cop’s problem anyway?” “I thought he was going to arrest you or something.”
“He’s obviously not in his right mind,” Christine replies as she walks. “This has just been the weirdest day all around, first my brother calls and then that cop.”
Justine stops dead in her tracks on the sidewalk. “Wait a minute,” she says. “You have a brother, you never told me that!”
Christine stopped to look back at her friend standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a surprised look on her face. “Yeah, he’s a lot older lives in Philadelphia,” she replies without thinking. “He wanted to warn me about some guy or something.” The two girls start to walk again.
It is a beautiful sunny day as they walk home. Both of them are dressed in short sleeved shirts and shirts. The girls walk quietly as Justine runs this new information through her analytical mind. “How old is your Mom?” Justine asked. “I always questioned how she was old enough to have you and now you tell me you have an older brother?”
It is Christine that stops walking this time as she turns to grab her friend by the arm. She looks Justine directly in the eyes asking, “What did you say?”
Justine seems confused by the question for a few minutes before answering, “I don’t know.” “I completely lost my train of thought for a minute there.” “Now I know how Grandpa feels.” she giggles. “How did your big Geometry test go?”
“Not as bad as I thought,” Christine smiles looking pleased with herself. “Turns out Mr. Agros isn’t as big a jerk as I thought.”
“Wow, who is that guy?” Justine suddenly announces gazing across the street as a large, tan, muscular guy with his shirt off. He has his long dark hair tied back into a ponytail as he uses his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Christine looks over at the big brute, he doesn’t look familiar to her but he gives her the creeps. “I don’t know, let’s just keep walking.” “Stranger danger and all of that.”
“Please, we are not little girls,” Justine grins. “What harm is there in talking to a hot guy?” “And I don’t mean because it is eighty degrees out today.”
“A lot!” Christine replies. “Look at that guy, he could be a rapist, murderer for all we know!”
“Do you think?” Justine whispers. “Come on, we spend all our time with our noses in books, live a little.” “Oh God, he’s coming over here!”
Christine has spent the whole day trying to forget what her brother said on the phone this morning, but now she thinks he might have been right. No matter how good looking this guy might be, he screams danger to her, even if she doesn’t have an amazon danger sense. Just as the large shirtless man reaches the center of the street a hand touches Christine’s shoulder startling her.
“Honey, I tried to catch you before you left school,” Dona Roberts tells her daughter as she turns to face her.
“Mom, thank god!” Christine exclaims. “That guy who is coming across the street!”
“Oh, that’s Hershel,” Dona says as he steps up the curb. “He is a very old friend.” Justine is completely oblivious of the mother, daughter exchange as she has eyes only for the hot much older guy that stands in front of her.
“So where are you from?” Justine asks aggressively, not realizing that she has been captivated by the Nozama’s powerful sexual magnetism.
Hershel pays no mind to the young girl’s advances, he has grown tired of the effect he has on women. “So this one is your daughter?” he asks bluntly.
“Yes, this is Christine and her friend Justine,” Dona Roberts explains.
“Send the other one away,” Hershel says coldly. “We must talk privately!”
“Justine dear, why don’t you run along home now,” Dona tells the girl trying to pull her away from Hershel’s aura. “Christine will call you later, Dear.”
“Yes, perhaps he could call me too,” Justine says smiling at the large man. “Christine give him my number!”
“I don’t think your mother would like that at all,” Dona advises. “Now get along home!”
Once the other young girl is out of ear shy Dona takes Hershel and her daughter to her car parked across the street. She has Christine and Hershel get in the back seat that does not please the teenage girl who still feels as if the man is a threat to her safety. “Mom!” Christine exclaims as they pull away from the curb. “What is this all about?” “Is this the guy Steve saw in his dream or what?” she asks pushed up against the car door to stay away from the sweaty man.
“Like I said he is a very old friend and he has some questions about you and Steve,” Dona explains as she drives, heading home.
“Your old friend here could use a shower,” Christine says rudely. “Smells worse than Steve when he was fourteen on the track team!”
“It would appear that you are wrong about your daughter, Dona,” Hershel says, speaking for the first time inside the car.
“How so?” Dona questions.
“She does have some amazon in her if she is immune to my magnetism, unlike her friend,” he explains glaring at the young girl in the back seat next to him.
“That is just gross!” Christine announces. “Who are you anyway?”
“I am a Nozama, what you might call the male counterpart to the amazons,” Hershel explains. “But unlike the amazons we live more by our violent and aggressive nature.” “That is why most of my race need to be secluded from the outside world, to protect it.” “The most dangerous of the Nozamas is our former King Samso, who your brother recently fought.”
“So what does any of this have to do with me, go talk to that blockhead and leave me out of it!” Christine insists.
“Oh you are different aren’t you?” Hershel suddenly says smiling at Christine. “I can feel what you are trying to do, but it will not work on me, I am far too old for that.” “I’ve learned more than a few tricks in the last 3000 years.”
“Hershel, what are you talking about?” Dona asks looking back over her shoulder from the driver’s seat.
“Clearly your friend is senile,” Christine suggests. “Can we just get home, I have a report to write for Child Psychology class.”
“Perhaps you could drop me off at the Airport, Dona?” Hershel asks. “I think I’ve seen all I need to here.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t at least like to stay for dinner?” “I would love for you to meet my husband again.” Dona replies while stopping at a red light.
“Perhaps another time,” Hershel tells her. “I think it best if I find your son as soon as possible.”
Midtown Motel
3510 Biscayne Blvd
Miami, FL
Jonah Walsh has lived in Miami for a very long time. It was the first place on Earth he could truly feel alone since he left Ireland. In recent days he has felt that has changed. Now there is another, someone else like him and it scares him. He bought this Motel when he first arrived. It is a place that people of lesser means vacation. It is also a place where people come to hide, escape from the world. It easily became his home.
Now there is another, a kindred soul. Jonah first felt this presence months ago, he tried to ignore it, deny what he felt. But he can no longer escape that kindred soul as it has expanded in power and used that power openly. The Motel owner has no idea who this person is but he knows he must find them before they find him!
It has been many months since Jonah first felt the power that he has now come to fear. He has spent many a sleepless night trying to figure out what he must do. It has led him to only one option. That option is to arrive here today. He has known her through many lifetimes but she will always only be Dharma to him.
“Good afternoon Miss,” Jonah says as the woman he has been waiting for arrives in the small Motel lobby. “I have your room all ready.” The two act casual as if it is their first time meeting, in a way it is.
“I’m sure you do,” Dharma replies. “I do not travel without my family for just anyone.” Dharma is a middle aged woman who carries a book clutched close to her chest. When Jonah comes from behind the desk to take her bags she holds tight to the book as if she fears he will try to take it.
“I hope your stay will be to your liking,” Jonah replies, maintaining his plausible deniability. He hasn’t been close with Dharma in a long time but he knew if he really needed her help she would come, no matter how far the distance.
“I would like some fresh tea sent to my room, after my long journey,” Dharma instructs the desk clerk as if it is their first meaning.
“Of course Miss I will get right on that,” Jonah responds, calling for another clerk to take his place at the desk.
Dona & Steven Roberts’ house
3005 NW 14th St
Miami, Florida
The ride home from the airport is silent between mother and daughter. Christine isn’t sure she even wants to know what this whole thing is about. When the car pulls in the driveway Dona turns to her daughter in the back seat to say, “I’m going to head back to work for a few hours, there is something of a mess I have to clean up.”
“What about Steve?” Christine asks, gathering up her books.
“What about him?” Dona replies.
“Aren’t you going to give him a call, tell him about this big dude coming his way?” Christine suggests.
“Your brother is more than capable of handling Hershel when he arrives,” Dona smiles. “It might actually be a good test for him.” “Meeting someone with similar skills is always a test, you can never be sure how it will turn out.”
Christine gets out of the car not sure what to make of her mother’s attitude about this whole thing. What does she mean you don’t always know how it will turn out? She watches her mother’s car back out of the driveway as if nothing strange has just happened. Christine feels like she will never understand her mother, even if she lives to be her age.
Going inside Christine grabs a snack and drink from the kitchen before heading up stairs to start working on her report for Child Psychology class. Getting started she can’t seem to concentrate on her report. She keeps thinking about what her mother said and then she remembers the story Detective Hernandez told her about his power to dream the past. How it allowed him to remember what had happened on the police raid even after Strauss wiped his mind clean. What if Strauss could do something similar?
Midtown Motel
3510 Biscayne Blvd
Miami, FL
Jonah Walsh the shabby Motel’s owner brings a rather out of place silver tray and fine China tea set to the door of room 114 that faces the beach. He knocks once balancing the tray with one hand. The door swings open to reveal the drab mass produced decor of the room as it has existed for nearly forty years. Then stepping across the threshold all of that changes. It has only been twenty-five minutes since Dharma checked into the Motel room but everything is different from when the maid finished cleaning it.
The dirty white paint on the walls has been replaced by silver inlaid wallpaper. The standard full sized bed and Formica nightstands have been replaced by a solid oak four poster bed and a marble topped table. Fine draperies hang over the windows that still look like the old worn ones from the outside. When the door closes of its own accord Jonah can see that it is dark stained walnut on the inside and not the steel security door it is on the other side. The air smells of lavender and jasmine not the mold and bleach of the other rooms in the Motel.
A large oak dresser has replaced the standard model that also was used as a TV stand against the wall. What was a folding card table and chairs is now a Maple dinette with a large wingback chair at its head back against the wall where Dharma sits awaiting her tea. “I was beginning to wonder if you had lost mother’s tea set.”
“No, never!” Jonah says not wanting to tell her that it took most of his time to find it. “Is this room somehow bigger?” he questions looking around the now ten foot high ceiling.
“A simple extra-dimensions spell,” Dharma replies as he sits down on the tray on the table to begin to serve.
“Thank you for coming,” Jonah says. “I believe it is time we acted again.”
Dharma sits back in her soft cushioned chair taking a sip of the warm tea. It is just the way she likes it. “I am afraid that circumstances have changed this time.” “A greater destiny is at play,” the witch tells the Motel owner.
“What do you mean?” Jonah exclaims. “You have always helped me with this problem over the centuries!” Dharma does not reply as she simply sips her tea. “Why would you turn your back on me now?”
“All things change, Jonah,” Dharma replies. “It is time that you accepted that and stood on your own, not depending on me so solve this problem for you again.”
“But it is the only way to prevent this new one from taking what is rightfully mine!” the middle-aged looking man pleads. “She has no more right than any of the others to take what I had first!” “Together we have put an end to this threat so many times.” “Why would you spare this one?”
“I am sparing no one,” Dharma says, sitting down her tea cup on the crisp white linen tablecloth. “I only ever gave you the means to stop the others, it was always your choice to kill them.” Jonah gets a slight look of surprise in his face at her words. “Did you think I did not know how you went too far with the others?” “That is why I will not participate this time!”
“Then I will find a way to end this one on my own!” Jonah says, his Irish accent showing through. “I am not without skills.” “I have plenty!”
“Do not be foolish, you have no idea the forces at work this time,” Dharma warns. “If you should manage to change the girl’s destiny, your fate will not be what you believe it will be.”
“Now you threaten me as well?” Jonah shouts in shock.
“I threaten no one, I only warn you to accept what is to come, you risk only your own life if you do not,” Dharma says standing up to lay the book that has sat on her lap the whole time on the table. A wave of her hand over the thick tome and it flips open to the correct page.
“What are you doing now?” Jonah shouts in fear as he steps closer.
“I am leaving you to whatever fate to choose!” Dharma tells him as she begins to speak the spell from the pages of the Book of Witchcraft. “Jugejm nu sinu, puyfomt gsoh lpyxu yh og wyh zuviju O xynu.”
Jonah has seen Dharma in the grandmother phase of her life cycle before. He knows how powerful she is when she controls the book. She could have easily killed him, wiped him from existence along with this Motel. Instead she simply vanishes and the room returns to its original rundown shape. The silver tray and China Tea set crash to the floor as the large Maple table they sat on vanishes to be replaced by the much smaller folding table. A new stain appears on the worn carpet as the smell of mold and bleach returns to the room.
Wednesday, February 17, 1988
American Heritage School
607 NW 32nd St.
Miami, FL
As part of the scholarship of achieving Christine had won to attend the American Heritage School she was required to do some community service at the school. Up until now she had not been called to do that work and it was just fine with her. She hoped that the committee had forgotten about it. But during homeroom she was called to the principal’s office again. She feared it was that crazy cop again putting more weird ideas in her head. When she found it was not, Christine was almost revealed that it was about the community service part of her scholarship. A new student, Gavin O’Connor had arrived at the school and it would be her job to show him around the campus. He has just moved here from Europe and will be taking all of the same classes as her, making her tour guide job much easier.
“So Gavin are you excited to be here in the U.S. for a year?” Christine asked, trying to make small talk as they returned to homeroom.
“Yes, but a little scared too,” Gavin replied in his strong, clearly non-American accent.
“I can relate to that somewhat,” Christine tells him. “I moved here from Pennsylvania last year.” “I’m sure it must be even a bigger adjustment for you coming from another country.”
“I’m sure it was easy for a pretty lassie like you,” Gavin smiles trying to charm the young girl.
Christine understands that he is not comparing her to a TV show dog like some American boy. Just the same she tries to ignore his flattery. “What brings you to the United States?” she asks.
“My father has a new job at Bleu Inc.,” Gavin explains. “I didn’t want to come at first but then when I learned about the American Heritage School’s World Exchange Program, I was more motivated.”
“Oh so you are interested in the W.E.P?” Christine says surprised. “I’m on the committee, but our ideas don’t get much respect around here.” “I’m surprised you even heard about us.” His interest in her extracurricular club is much more enticing to her than his previous comment. “We have a meeting this afternoon after school, perhaps you would like to come to it?”
“I would like that, could you show me where the meeting is happening?” Gavin replies with a smile.
“Since we have the same schedule, I can do better than that, I’ll take you,” Christine answers with more excitement than she has had in a long time. The World Exchange Program is the one thing that she is most proud of at school. It was only a small club when she started here last year but since then she has managed to get the program more attention in the private school circuit. Learning that Gavin had heard of it in Europe makes her rather happy of what the group has accomplished in such a short time. “We have been working on a new fundraiser for children in Israel for the past month and we are always looking to more help with ideas.”
“I’ve had several ideas since I read about W.E.P. as you call it in the Private Academia Monthly magazine,” Gavin tells Christine as they arrive at Homeroom.
“I can’t believe you read that,” Christine blushes. “I didn’t think anyone actually read that rag.” “We can talk later,” she says looking at her watch. “The bell is about to sound for the first period and we are in the wrong place.” The end of homeroom bell sounds as Christine grabs the new boy’s arm. “First period English is this way.”
Vizcaya Museum & Gardens
3251 S Miami Ave
Miami, FL
It is late when Dona is clearing the artifacts that she has been studying for the day. Putting the last of them in her office safe as the phone rings. “Dona Roberts, research and authenticity department,” she answers the phone.
“Mom, sorry to bother you at work, it’s me,” Steve Roberts says on the other end of the phone. “I was just wondering if you know a guy calling himself Hershel?”
“So he has approached you already,” Dona replies, taking a seat in her desk chair. “I thought he would follow you around longer.”
“So you know him?” Steve repeats. “He said you sent him.” “I get a strange vibe off him.”
“He’s a Nozama, one of the few good ones, perhaps the only one left,” Dona explains. “He is Samso’s brother, the one who originally imprisoned him.” “He was concerned about you releasing him.” “I explained it was an accident.” “He still wanted to meet you.”
“This Hershel guy told me that he was going to give me seven trials,” Steve explains.
“Hershel told me he didn’t trust Mist’s imprisonment,” Dona tells her son. “He thought that when Samso escapes again he would come after you.” “I told him you could handle Samso if it happens again.” “He must want to make sure.”
“So he is going to continue to cause trouble like that fire this morning,” Steve says with concern.
“I am sure Hershel would not intentionally start a fire to test you,” Dona assures. “Wait, did you say seven trials?”
“Yes, why does that matter?” Steve quizzes.
“There is a seven sided box created centuries ago that is called the Trials of Sins Box, that is a loose translation,” Dona recalls. “But that is safe here in the vault.” Dona goes silent for a moment realizing what has happened. “That bastard!” she grumbles over the phone.
“What is it, Mom?” Steve asks.
“He was in the vault when he was here!” she reveals. “The box targets the seven deadly sins and draws them to you and you to them until one defeats you or you prevail.”
“So how do I undo it?” Steve urges.
“You can’t, it is part of you now until it runs its course,” his mother tells him.
Miami Police Department
2200 W Flagler St
Miami, FL
Detective Hernandez walks to his car after a long day. *Detective I need to speak to you,* the voice comes in his head like before in his office last month.
“Where are you,” he speaks out loud in the dark parking garage.
*I’ve been told you want my help,* Powersurge replies silently inside his head. *There is something you need to know about Martin Strauss.*
“Can you hear me?” Hernandez calls out again. “I want to see you!”
*I can read your thoughts, you don’t need to see me,* Powersurge replies. *I’ve been thinking about what happened with Strauss.* *I used his power against him to make him forget how he first discovered his powers.* *That is why he was powerless when he was arrested.* *In hindsight, I am afraid he might be able to reverse what was done to him.* *I need to make sure he can not revive his powers.*
“Then come out, come out wherever you are!” Detective Hernandez shouts as other officers leaving the station look strangely at him. The Detective smiles and waves to the other cops as he whispers to himself, “You are making me look crazy here.”
*Then stop talking out loud!* is the reply. *I said I am communicating directly with your mind, not using super-hearing or something.* *I would rather not be seen talking to you in front of a police station.* *I think that is in both our interests.* *Meet me at The Seawall Inn.*
The Seawall Inn
Antarctica Way
Miami, FL
Yoloph Samson works behind the bar serving his rather grimly clientele. He uses his power to hide now. What he did to help Powersurge defeat Strauss earned him her trust. In turn she allowed him his freedom at a price. Powersurge promised him if she ever learned that he was using his powers to harm anyone again she would be back to make sure he was in jail.
Yoloph recognizes Detective Hernandez the moment he walks into the bar. The cop strolls over to a booth at the far corner of the dim lit dive. The bartender continues working as if nothing is wrong, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He watches as the waitress, Bitsy takes Hernandez’s order and she returns to the bar.
“Did he say what he wants here?” Yoloph asks the waitress before she can even give the cop’s order.
“Tequila shot and a glass of water,” the waitress tells the impatient bartender.
“No, you idol!” “Is he here looking for someone?” Yoloph demands slapping his hand down on the bar top.
“All he said was give me a tequila shot and a glass of water, asshole!” the waitress replies.
Yoloph moves to get the drinks not taking his eyes off of the Detective. It is then that a tall slender black woman walks over to the table to take a seat across from Detective Hernandez. The bartender has never seen the striking beauty in the bar before tonight. She wears her hair naturally in a big afro. Her nails and make up looks as if there were done by a professional, clearly she does not belong in this bar.
*Call me Amber,* comes the message inside the Detective’s head from the statuesque black woman as she sits down in the booth.
“Well Amber it appears I was right about your ability to change your appearance,” Detective Hernandez says, eyeing the woman from head to toe. “I suggest you don’t order anything alcoholic, I’m fairly sure you are not of age.”
The waitress returns to the table placing Hernandez’s drinks in front of him. “What can I get you darling?” she asks the new arrival at the table.
“Nothing, I am not here to drink,” Amber replies, giving the waitress a look that says leave us alone. The waitress takes Hernandez’s money and promptly returns to the bar.
“Returning to the scene of the original crime?” Hernandez asks putting back his shot of tequila followed by a drink from the water glass.
“I may have misled you to believe that I had the power to take away Strauss’ memories of his powers,” Amber begins. “In truth it was that bartender over there, Yoloph Samson.” “He is a Zeni-human too with the power to mimic the powers of others.” “He was under Strauss’ control and when I freed him from it, I was able to convince him to mimic Strauss’s power and use them against him.” “The deal I made with him if he made Strauss powerless I would not turn him in to the authorities.”
“That was rather out of line,” Detective Hernandez comments. “If he was involved with Strauss’ operation it is for the law and the court system to decide if he needs to be punished for his actions.”
“You know as well as I do that the courts have no idea how to handle these types of cases.” Amber replies. “With his power he could have easily disappeared without a trace, yet here he is still tending bar in this dive bar at the docks.” “I’ve made him what I believe you cops call an asset.” “I just don’t know if I can trust him or how to learn if I can without scaring him off.”
“So you need my years of experience,” Detective Hernandez grins.
“Your years of experience are already working against you here,” Amber tells him. “Yoloph has already recognized you as one of the cops raiding the boat.”
“How do you know that?” Hernandez asks looking over at the bartender and then back at Amber who touches her index finger to her forehead.
“I thought you said he mimics Zeni-human powers, how do you know he isn’t tricking you?” the Detective inquires.
“We are out of his range of powers,” Amber explains. “As long as he doesn’t touch you he can’t mimic your power.”
Detective Hernandez gazes at this strange woman that he knows is not what she appears. “But you can read his mind from here?”
“Only the surface thoughts, to go deeper I would have to touch him which would not be good as I said,” Amber explains.
“Hmmm, so my power is dream based, if he mimics me it would take him eight to twelve hours to know that he has even taken on my power,” Hernandez suggests. “Do you think he has any idea who you are?”
“How could he?” Amber says. “Did you when I sat down here?”
“If he mimics my power, he will not know until tomorrow morning,” the Detective confirms.
“So you are suggesting we keep him awake until we get what we need?” Amber concludes.
“Seems the best course of action, but getting him to trust you would be our best move,” Detective Hernandez hypothesis.
Midtown Motel
3510 Biscayne Blvd
Miami, FL
As the sun sets as Amber and Detective Hernandez arrive at a location given to them by Yoloph Samson. Neither of them is sure if they can completely trust the information the bartender has provided them. They sit in a 1985 green Ford Mustang pulled up to the curb to discuss their situation. “Are you sure about this?” Detective Hernandez asks as they stop a block from the Motel. “He never mentioned anything about this motel.”
“I’m positive, Yoloph was not telling you the truth,” Amber tells the cop. “Everything he said was completely opposite of what he was thinking.” “The whole time he was talking, he had room 223 at this place in his mind.”
“So you have nothing beyond a location and a room number?” Hernandez asks, eyeing the Motel sign from a block away. “It could just be where he is meeting a hooker later.” “I’ve been to places like this be…” the Detective’s sentence is cut short when he turns back to the passenger seat to see that the black woman has been replaced by the blue haired Powersurge. “That is not a good idea.
“What do you mean?” Powersurge questions. “We are going in there, it could be dangerous.”
“First of all we won’t even make it a block with you looking like that, second it will do my career no good to be seen working with a vigilante,” Detective Hernandez explains. Hernandez watches in the dim light of the car as the bright blue and yellow colors of Powersurge blur and dim slightly as the woman sitting next to him again takes on the appearance of Amber. “I’ve been meaning to ask you why this disguise?”
“I saw her in an old movie once,” Amber replies, opening the car door. “Now let’s go!” The Detective jumps out of the car to follow after the tall black woman that he recognizes knows from an old Pam Greer movie.
Hernandez catches up to his new partner to grab her arm. He can feel that although it looks like he has taken hold of her forearm it is in reality her bicep. She jerks her arm from his grip. He was right she is much shorter than the woman he sees. “Look we have to take this slow without a warrant or just cause, we can not just go busting into a Motel room.”
“Then why don’t we use your idea about meeting a hooker?” Amber suggests.
“What?” Hernandez exclaims.
“We just pretend to walk into the wrong room for a hookup,” she tells him. “Look at me I could easily pass as a hooker.” The cop looks at Amber not able to disagree, but she can hear his dislike of the idea in his mind. “Just shut up and come on!” she says taking his hand and leading him down the street.
Arriving at room 223 it is an easy task for Powersurge to use her telekinesis to open the lock. Laughing out loud they push into the room. “Come on big spender!” she jokes. “I’m going to take you around the world!”
He closes the door behind them. “That was unnecessary,” he tells her.
The inside of the room is nothing to write home about. It smells of bleach and mold and the bedspread looks to be twenty years old. Any hope of finding something incriminating on Samson or Strauss is instantly gone from both of their minds. Detective Hernandez’s trained eyes scan the room bringing him to the conclusion, “There isn’t even anyone staying in this room.” “It would seem to me that the only reason Samson could have possibly been thinking about this place was to meet a hooker.”
“That is completely disgusting now that I have gotten a smell of this place,” Amber replies. “There has got to be something else!” She raises her hand to the old Formica covered dresser and all of the drawers slide open, revealing the emptiness inside.
“I’ll check the bathroom while you do your thing out here,” Detective Hernandez says walking into the small closet sized adjoining room.
Amber continues her telekinetic search of the room, opening the night stand drawers and levitating the two full sized beds to the ceiling to look underneath. When she turns back to the bathroom door she sees that it is closed. “Detective Hernandez are you alright?” she calls across the small motel room. There is no response and that is when she realizes that she can no longer feel his mind anywhere close by. Running toward the bathroom door she blasts it open with a thought. Amber charges through the door instantly finding herself tumbling forward and down several feet.
The wind is knocked out of her as she face-plants on a concrete slab. Before she can get up there is what feels like a knee in the center of her back. Then there is a pull of her hair that lifts her head up. “This is not the real you!” a sinister voice says behind her back. Amber can feel that it is not the dark black afro that is being pulled, it is her real hair beneath her disguise. She doesn’t know who this guy is but he weighs a ton. “I want to see the real you!” he demands.
“Let me go!” she shouts.
“Not on your life!” the man hissed as he moved both his hands onto her head. Amber looks to her slender brown fingers that begin to change, shrinking as her skin becomes lighter. She is no longer Amber or Powersurge, the person pinned to the concrete by the man is revealed as Christine Roberts.
Christine’s sight becoming fuzzy she can feel him sapping her mental strength. Whatever he is doing is making it hard for her to focus her mental powers. Christine Roberts has never been one to accept her amazon heritage but now it is all she has left. She has only ever watched one of her brother’s training sessions but she does remember something. Bracing her hands on the floor she pushes off bringing her right arm back across the man’s jaw. The man falls back off of her and she scrambles to her feet.
“This is not the motel bathroom!” she announces. Trying to focus as she scans the area that she can only guess is an empty parking garage. On the wall in large letters are painted “LEVEL 8.” Then looking down at her attacker holding his jaw, she has no idea who he is but he is not Martin Strauss! Her head is spinning, what did this guy do to her? Why does she feel so weak? She can’t even hear his thoughts.
“Christine?” a voice mumbles from behind her. She turns to see the door to the stairs that is framed by a glowing rectangle. On the other side of the doorway she can see the motel room. On the parking lot floor next to door Detective Hernandez sits holding his head, a handprint burnt onto his cheek.
“Not so fast girl!” her attacker says as he grabs her from behind again. He takes hold of her with one arm and reaches for her head again with the other. “I will not let you take what is mine!” Christine’s mental powers still are absent forcing her to resort to other means to defend herself. Grabbing the man’s arm around her waist she twists his wrist. Then using strength she was not sure she had she swings him around by the arm. The one-hundred and fifty pound man sailing through the air toward the concrete wall.
Christine doesn’t even stop to think about it as she runs to help Detective Hernandez up from the pavement. “Are you alright?”
“He jumped me from behind, did something to me,” the Detective says as he weakly gets up.
“We need to go!” she tells him as she helps him turn toward the door. Seconds before they step through the door the glow vanishes leaving only the stairs of the parking garage. “Crap!” Christine shouts looking down the eight flights of stairs. “Can you make it?”
“I don’t know?” Detective Hernandez says barely able to stand.
“Then I have no choice,” Christine signs as she lifts the hundred and seventy pound man up onto her shoulder. Christine Roberts’ small frame clearly possesses more strength than anyone ever knew, perhaps even her. She has no idea if they are being followed but she knows she can’t fight him like this! When they reach the street Christine keeps running not caring who sees her carrying the man over her shoulder.
Friday, February 19, 1988
Mercy Hospital
room 298
3663 S Miami Ave
Miami, FL
Detective Hernandez lays in the hospital bed reading the newspaper eager to be discharged. “I was wondering if you would come visit me before I got out,” he says at the sound of the soft footsteps entering the room. He looks up from the paper to see Christine Roberts standing inside the door of the room. “No disguise today?”
“No powers,” she replies softly. “Haven’t been able to even make a Basketball roll across the court since the incident.” “I was wondering if you had any dreams?”
“Not a one,” Hernandez tells her. “Whatever that guy did to me it almost killed me.” “But it definitely took my power.” The Detective glares at the girl who looks much better than he feels after two days in the hospital. “All things considered you look good.” “Surprised you had the nerve to come back here at all.” “Nurses in the ER said a teenage girl carried me in then just disappeared.”
“I may not be able to hide my face anymore but I can still avoid a few nurses,” Christine replies.
“I was talking more about the carrying part,” Hernandez says with a raised eyebrow. I could barely after when that guy was done with me.” “You carried a man twice your size sixteen blocks by my count.” “Not to mention you don’t have a new beauty mark like I do.” Referring to the hand print still scorched on his face.
“Whatever he did, it only worked on my mental powers, not physical,” Christine explains. “My body is more durable than it looks, apparently.” “That aside, I’ve come to the conclusion that whoever that guy was he had nothing to do with Strauss.” “I think the whole thing was a trap for me.”
“Sounds a little self-centered to me,” the Detective grins. “Why would you think that?”
“Something he said,” Christine explains. “I will never let you take what is mine!”
“Any idea what he was talking about?” Hernandez asks.
“Not a clue,” Christine answers. But she could never begin to explain the main reason she believes that is because of a dream her brother had, even with Hernandez’s own dream experiences.
“I made my report about the attack with a few edits,” Hernandez explains. “Uniforms searched that Motel from top to bottom.” “Not too incriminating was found, but the owner Johan Welsh is missing.” “No one knows where he is or when he will be back.” “Got a photo of him right here,” Detective Hernandez says, reaching for a file on the table next to his bed. “Look familiar to you?”
It takes only one look for Christine to say, “That’s him, that’s the guy who attacked us!”
“That’s what I thought,” Hernandez agrees. “Research shows he bought that Motel fifty years ago, the day that photo was taken.” “I’d say he has held up pretty good.” “Dick Clark syndrome or something much more Zeni?”