Think Tank

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An unexpected reward for a veteran superhero.
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Author's note: Hi everyone! This is my belated answer to the call to arms for Geek Pride. I dusted up my old Villains and Vigilantes character sheets and concocted this idyll; it's a little different from my usual fare... but not by much! I hope you enjoy your read and, well... to quote Jeff Dee: be a superhero! :)

P.S. Sometimes I am able to throw in some sex early in the story... but try as I might, it just doesn't work with this story outline; as a result, the sexual encounters happen rather late in the proceedings... you have been warned.

1.- Meet-cute at a shoot

"There you go, Miss Mitra... sparkling water with ice and a slice of lime. If you would just give me a second, while you refresh yourself, I will try to wrestle Allan away from his workstation so he can join us."

"Thank you, Mr. Jeong... and please call me Teresa."

Jeong Nam-il instantly blushed deep red before replying "... not a chance, Miss Mitra!" He quickly left the small R&R area, leaving the young model alone to enjoy her water and peruse her surroundings.

If she would ever have the time to take roots somewhere, Chaha Mitra told herself this could be the place. The scenery at eye level was a curious mixture of peace and effervescence, with various youths of all genders and colors resting with some form of liquid caffeine, discussing vividly in front of virtual billboards or just seemingly surfing on portable computer pads. The blend of soft electronic music and chatter, plus the joviality and intensity of the sparse crowd, were all evidence that this abode was a think tank of the first order.

This contrasted somewhat with the decoration of the corporate refuge. For one thing, its name - the Drop Zone - was lettered in an old bright red neon sign that was more reminiscent of a Doo-Wop museum than a hub of innovation. And the walls, for their part, were nothing short of a Starship Troopers Hall of Fame: they were completely covered with framed reproductions of book covers, movie posters, screenshots, costumes, props, game boards and several life-like 1:1 scale bug sculptures. Someone here must be a crazy huge fan, Chaha thought, before gladly taking advantage of this precious quiet time to rest her eyes and meditate.

---

"We're going to need an additional ladder, and quick! And maybe heli support!"

"Copy that... negative for heli, not enough sky and too much turbulence. The call for support is already sent. How many are left up there?"

"Two whole floors; they couldn't evacuate in time..."

Allan Casey stopped paying attention to his hearing aid and stared in worry at the afternoon rush hour traffic from a plethora of data screens. He quickly tapped commands, to compute an ingress/egress route, but his thought process was frozen still by the sound of an access card confirmation, followed by Nam-il opening his office door. He dropped to his chair and tapped a finger to dim all his screens, save one which had a solitaire game in progress. "What is it, Nam?"

Nam-il instantly recognized his focus and his tone. "We have a situation?"

"Maybe... but so far it's still under control."

"Will you use the Mobile?"

"In that traffic? Naaa... if I get involved, I'll run it from here. So, what have you got for me?" Allan was in the process of finishing his FreeCell.

"Well... she's here and she's waiting to meet you in the Drop Zone."

"Who's here?" Allan knew very well the answer, but he always enjoyed playing dumb when attempting to resist an unwanted corporate duty. A fact his best friend, lawyer and CFO knew all too well.

"Chaha Teresa Mitra... you know who: our new image for the campaign."

"You really think it's a good idea? You know I'm not very keen about branding our hearing aids with a pretty face."

Nam-il replied as if his partner and CEO had not just questioned a campaign that was about to be signed and launched. "A good idea? Allan, where have you been this last year? She's only Miss Planet Earth!!! She recently finished her pageantry duties and her agent kept accusing me, loudly, of witchcraft: she's squeezing this gig between two of her modeling shoots and she's doing it for a tenth of her usual commission! It seems she loves New-York and that she's one of our actual clients. Besides, your hearing aids are so awesome, nobody sees them! So yes, we do need a pretty face to advertise The Most Beautiful Sound On Earth! Now, you're going to move your butt over there and be civil..."

"Mitra, you say? Mmmh... that sounds Bengali or Hindu... should be easy to find... ah yes, there we are." Allan was hooked and, when he was, his uniquely creative brain always became a single-goal organ. Nam-il knew Allan wasn't listening to him anymore, so he just waited him out. "Geez! Tinnitus coupled to a severe retro-cochlear loss at three non-harmonic frequency bands! Now that's an achievement I'm proud to advertise!"

"Yes, well... she's also unimaginably beautiful and a graduate of the Indian Agricultural Research Institute, so stop making her wait and come on over! And no, we are not just shooting her ear and her hearing aid!"

"Why not?" Both guffawed, and the short walk between locales quickly devolved into a frivolous exchange of anatomical quips.

---

Chaha opened her eyes, rested and serene, to drink a sip of her water and greet her hosts for the day. She already knew this would be a very pleasant assignment, as she was truly eager to be the spokesmodel for her treasured hearing aid; however, she did not expect the appearance of a recluse prodigious inventor who actually looked like a retired heavyweight boxer.

"Mr. Casey?"

All eyes were now on Allan, as was almost always the case when he walked into the Drop Zone to talk shop or unwind with his coworkers; but at that moment, Allan Casey was summoning all his willpower to remain coherent. To say he was bedazzled would be an understatement of epic proportions.

(Oh myyyyy! In a lehenga, she would be worshipped as the daughter of Kama and Rati! Come on, Casey... don't drool!)

"That... would be me, yes... and you, Miss Mitra, need no introduction, of course! I must say, if you will excuse my cliche, that your pictures and your crown do not do you justice. And I hope our little Nerdvannah here is to your liking."

"I do like it here, and it's a pleasure to meet you. You know, I could return the cliche, Mr. Casey: you look very different from what I expected."

"That, I will take as a compliment; and please call me Allan." He shook her hand with more excitement than he would have liked, but Allan had never felt anything as soft as her skin and he was only paying attention to her beguiling smile. "You know, we're all excited here about your involvement with Casey Nanosystems... it will be an amazing boon. Thank you very much for agreeing to this!"

"Think nothing of it, please... I'm thrilled to be soon associated with your acoustic products."

Although Allan was very aware he was behaving like a young groupie rather than a 47 year-old CEO, he could have sworn that, for an instant, Chaha had actually shivered and lowered her eyes. She was as tall as he was, 5 ft. 9 in., so in fact, Allan thought with glee that they would dance at eye level unless she wore heels.

(What the hell is wrong with me!?! She could be MY daughter! Snap out of it, you creep!!!)

But Allan was having a dreadful time of it. Chaha Teresa Mitra, even if only wearing an off-white camisole, black jeggings and a pair of sneakers, was an arresting sight of near perfection. Her shoulder-length, golden maroon hair was unkempt and wavy, yet it looked styled; her emerald-green eyes sparkled continuously; her caramel colored nose, cheeks and chin were noble and unblemished; her shy smile was inviting, warm and guarding a treasure of crimson softness; her figure, the fluid sway of her magnificent curves, her aroma, her poise... all of her was perfect, all of her was pure and all of her was love.

"Very well. So... huh... tell me, Miss Mitra..."

"Call me Teresa, please."

"You really prefer that friends call you by your middle name?"

"All right then, it's settled: I call you Allan and you call me Chaha!" She was giggling and extricated her hand from Allan's grasp, to his great embarrassment.

"Oh... huh... sorry about that..." she forgave him with an amused smile. "So... Chaha, why do you like our hearing aids so much that you would practically volunteer for this, as Nam told me?"

"What's not to like about them, Allan? They restored my hearing! They're comfortable! They're practically invisible! You have this amazing non-profit foundation to make sure that as many people as possible can get them! And I'm told you program most of them yourself!"

"Guilty on all counts... and I assuredly programmed yours: I won't pretend to remember, but it must have been a challenge... if you don't mind my asking, what trauma brought about your hearing loss?"

"A burn, a cracked skull and a concussion, when I was rescued from a fire... so I was told. I was two years old when it happened."

"I see. Nam, please remind me how did we intend to shoot this?"

Nam-il was grateful to be finally included in the conversation. "Very straightforward. The photographer is already setting up his lighting in the acoustics lab and Miss Mitra will choose her appearance. Then we shoot her in front of the working crew - beauty and technology. I don't know anything about fashion, but it shouldn't take more than an hour or two... Allan?"

Allan was lost in thought and obviously in the process of rapidly leaving; Nam-il understood instantly. "The lab beckons?"

He answered tit-for-that, a routine they had perfected for years. "Yes, there's a fluctuation in the particle accelerators that requires immediate attention... Chaha, it was a great pleasure to meet you and I'm sorry to run. Nam, please make sure she gets paid her full commission, on top of a lifetime pro-bono agreement for renewing her hearing aid; and take her where she needs to..."

"HuuUHHH? WHAT!?!" Both men froze in place. Chaha looked shocked, almost terrified.

"Are you all right, Miss Mitra?" Nam-il took over and Allan, grateful, left them there, striding towards his office.

Chaha regained her composure. "Yes... I'm going to be fine... and I'm sorry about this. Allan sounded scary and I thought we were about to blow up or something..." she chuckled in embarrassment.

"Don't worry... it's been like this for more than 20 years and we're still standing! If you have finished your water, why don't I take you to the shoot?"

"Sure... let's get this done." Her resolute tone barely concealed her turmoil.

---

By the time Allan passed his office door, he was almost running and visibly chiding himself.

(Shame on you, Casey... flirting in the middle of this! If I'm too late...)

He did not dare finish that thought. Allan double-locked his office door - his personnel would clearly see, as they often do, a DO NOT DISTURB sign - and went straight for a life-size poster of a smiling red-haired mother and her son. Allan whispered, in a mechanical tone, "red alert" and the poster swiveled, ushering Allan on the other side of his office wall.

Allan glanced quickly at a display screen for confirmation that a direct running route would indeed be the quicker ingress. While donning his protective undergarments, he heard his automated voice messaging system dial 911 to confirm his ETA to the site of the fire, should his help be wanted by the FDNY.

It lasted a mere second, before the last step of his preparation, but Allan did notice the tremor in his left hand and cursed in anger.

(Come on, old man! It's a fire today! Nobody's going to shoot at you! Get it together!!!)

Allan took a deep breath, made sure his hearing aid was set on the proper frequency, and stepped in the darkness... the one that has been nesting him for 20 years, 10 months and 17 days.

---

Jeong Nam-il was pretending to balance some ledger, while wishing the departing personnel a good evening, but in truth he kept a recurrent watch on Allan's door and was reading all the media dispatches he could find on the events of the afternoon. He was currently listening to an interview of someone saved from a medium-rise fire. The young man was panting, shivering and had obviously been crying.

"It was a miracle! The blaze was so hot, we could hear the beams strain! And the smoke was God awful, with all the burning computers and plastic... and then... he comes through..."

"You mean, the Human Tank?"

"Yea yea... he comes through the blaze, using the stairs, like it's nothing! His big robot voice shouts to keep back from him, 'cause his armor is red-white it's so hot... which was a good thing 'cause we were all running to hug him! And then it warns us to brace ourselves for a cold snap... and BAM!!! Look, my hair's still frosty! That thing he did... it blew out all the flames, froze everything... just like that! Then he ordered us down the stairs; we went slowly 'cause it was a little slippery and our hands kept getting stuck on the cold ramp... we went down two floors, where the firefighters were waiting for us..."

"What did he do afterwards?"

"I didn't see him much... our supervisor told him about wounded folks and he went in the flames again. He saved all of our lives!!! I don't give a - bleep! - what people say about him, or her, or it, I dunno... he's A+ in my book!"

Nam-il then switched to an evening news video feed.

"...once again, the Human Tank lent his assistance, on a fire scene that was beyond the reach of the Fire Department's Magirus ladders. We were told he cleared the way for the firefighters to secure two office floors and you are now about to see quite a stunt: the Human Tank is about to break a window panel and leap straight down with a severely wounded man in his arms. There! Now, we estimate that was a 330 ft. drop... and yet he lands on his feet! We were told that the wounded man is now in stable condition and should recov..."

The sign on Allan's door had just closed. Nam-il dropped everything and rushed to his office.

"Boss?" Allan was slouched on his chair, chugging sparkling water directly from the bottle. He was in his lab clothing and covered in sweat. Nam-il saw, as always, the contour lines of a breathing mask and goggles on his face, but today, he saw no scalded skin, no bruises, no blood, no tremors; he sighed in relief: today had been a good day.

"You're still here, Nam? It's good to see you, my friend. How did it go with Chaha?"

"Later!!! Are YOU OK? I just saw on the news..."

"Yeaaa... that ought to keep social media busy for a couple of minutes, huh? I was lucky, Nam... that floor was located well within the limit of the shock absorbers' design impact... a nice 80 mph landing... how did that man take the jump?"

"He's going to recover and nobody in the news is saying that the jump harmed him in any way. You really were lucky."

Allan saw the reproachful look on his partner and hoped to prevent another recklessness and quixotism lecture. "He looked really bad, Nam: you know I can't feel a pulse through the gauntlets and I could barely hear anything between the raucous of the blaze and the white noise of the suit. All I could do was watching his labored breathing in false colors and breathing hot air - my climate control was barely keeping up! I didn't know the firefighters were about to control the scene... the watch lieutenant told me so, just as I was about to run back inside for the other wounded."

"I believe you, buddy... for what it's worth, I think you made the right call and I know for a fact that the last thing you need right now is a Monday morning quarterback. I'm just glad for you it turned out OK."

"Thanks. So... how did it go with Chaha?"

"Wow! Looks like she really got under your skin! Honestly, I was worried at first: while she was preparing herself for the first shoot, she really looked upset and out of it... but the second she poses in front of the camera, Shazam! Instant karma, just like some old footage I had seen of Marilyn Monroe: megawatt smile, perfect poise. She breezed through it and gave us three different looks to choose from: a professional jacket-and-skirt, a cocktail dress and a fish-cut traditional dress..."

"It's called a lehenga, Nam..."

"Whatever... for that one, she really went all out: a jewel on her forehead - she told me it was her third eye - long golden earrings and necklaces, everything plated, embroidered and shiny; sparkles in her hair and on her skin too, I think; and the upper garment was really low-cut: she looked both divine and sexy as hell! I can't wait to see those poses, in luscious green and shimmering gold... plus her eyes, of course!"

"It sounds like we will have it easy for our choice of campaign images, then."

"Yea, unlike you..." Nam-il was now obviously teasing and grinning ear to ear "...she is waiting for you, dressed up in that very outfit, in the Patiala room at Junoon. She made it abundantly clear that she wants to talk to you some more before she flies out to Miami tonight."

"You tell me this NOW!?!" Allan tried hard to scold his best friend but he was far too cheerful for any credibility. "Will we have privacy?"

"I had booked the entire room for the campaign crew today. I just sent everybody else to eat at Bamonte's after she made her request. It will be just the two of you, you poor corporate slave."

"Thanks Nam... you know I always like your style!" Allan patted his CFO on the back and was heading towards his revolving poster. "Oh! Just one thing, before I go: were you with her at all times, today?"

"Except in her changing room, yes, of course... are you worried about espionage?"

"No... but I experienced something weird, this afternoon. Just after the power-up, when I was all suited up and in the exit tunnel, I heard her voice telling me Please be careful... clear as day, I swear! And I know it doesn't make any sense..."

"You can say that again, boss: there was almost 300 yards of distance between you two, plus the tunnel and the suit... and I can vouch for her not bellowing a hypersonic scream."

"Yeaaa, I thought so. Well, I guess you are capable of witchcraft after all, then..."

"Ha ha! Veeeery funny! Have a nice evening, Allan... I'm heading home. You tell me all about it tomorrow... or not!" Allan saw Nam-il wink lecherously as he swiveled back in his secret space.

2.- You have a secret, I have a secret

"Are you sure you don't need anything, Miss Mitra?" The waiter was bored, but also captivated by his one and only patron. In fact, Chaha had been sipping tea and reading her tablet for a solid hour now...

"I am perfectly fine, thank you. The tea is excellent and I apologize for the delay. I'm sure my guest will arrive shortly."

"Very well."

Chaha quickly returned to the many files she had stored in what she calls her Tank archive. She was reviewing several videos, cell phone captures or selfies, interviews, press conferences, even panel discussions about a vigilante that had been named the Human Tank by a NYPD spokesperson 20 years ago. In truth, she knew most of them by heart and she was trying to keep her mind focused on something else than her nervousness. She gave up that tactic in favor of some meditation.

She barely had the time to reach her inner yang before feeling Allan's arrival, followed by the whispered voice of the waiter letting him in the room. She knew Allan remained standing and felt his breathing quicken. Giddy and nervous, Chaha did not dare open her eyes right away, hoping to savor this moment just a little longer. Allan was obviously mesmerized and she was thrilled by it.

"Hello..." Allan was stumped for words.

She opened her eyes. "Good evening Allan... I'm very glad you could make it."

"I'm sorry that you had to wait so long, Chaha. Please reassure me: discounting my boorish behavior, did Casey Nanosystems treat you well today?"