A Chance

The doctor's office chairs are dark green recliners, his desk is solid oak, the curtains are a matching green, and the walls are covered by bookshelves, full of various medical texts and archived journals. There's a window behind him, looking out over the garden behind his private practice… not a single flower in it: It's a relaxing path through Japanese maples. The doctor himself is in full field gear: World War I helmet and armored trench coat, both dyed in a riot of color, a cup of pink tea sitting on his desk, a small remote in his hand.

He does however, stand up from his chair as his guest enters, “What can I do for you, Ms. Blackheart?”

“Fantasia, please…” the good witch cringes, “...I've been trying to distance myself a bit from my family name.”

“As you wish, Fantasia,” the doctor nods, “...but the question remains.”

“Well I…” she pauses, deciding to toss the plan for a simple reason: No deception. That doesn't just mean ‘not lying’, it means, ‘telling the truth’, “...ultimately, I'm here because I'm scared. My distant ancestors made a bad deal, and because of it, I'm doomed to an eternity of torment. I found a tiny crack in the ironclad document that would allow me to put off paying the piper for a very long time… but I can't directly make use of it. I need help… but I can't buy or trade for it; I can't trick anyone into giving it to me; I can't take it by ****, threats, or compulsion. In my case, in order to work, it MUST be given freely… and there's very few in existence that can.”

The doctor considers for a bit, “And I am one of the few. You know what I am, clearly.”

“Immortal, yes,” the Sorceress nods, “Your power youthens without stopping aging, and can raise the dead… you can restart my countdown, even after the ‘timer’ has gone off.”

Dr. Benjamin Maddox Beaux nods slowly, “I see… you realize what side effects I have?”

Fantasia considers, “Common perception is that you make people stupid bimbos…” then takes a breath, “...but based on Amber's performance, that perception is very, very flawed.”

“Yes,” Doctor Bimbo confirms, “there are the obvious physical changes, the curing of almost every affliction, the de-aging, and such… but beyond that, it's strictly additive. Increased libido, a desire for muscular men, a liking of all things girly and pink, the valley girl accent, and so on.” He shrugs, “But if you can't cut a deal, trick me, **** me, yadda yadda, how do you plan…?” The man in a woman's body trails off.

The white sheep of the Blackheart family shrugs, “You're a good person, doctor Beaux. My plan, such as it is, is to show you that I also am a good person. That way, when I need you, you'll be there.”

“I've known a few Blackhearts,” the doctor looks at his ‘patient’, “that's a very uphill battle you're choosing to fight.”

“I expect it will take a lifetime,” Fantasia confirms, “Will you at least afford me the opportunity to try?”

Benjamin takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and mutters quietly to himself, “Without grace, there can be no reform… and the sins that still burn me are not even hers. The child shall not be put to **** for the sins of the father…” He then takes another slow breath, and continues, “I will start by hearing you out. Please, sit down, Fantasia.”

The woman sighs in relief, the first hurdle crossed, and collapses into a very comfortable recliner, “All right, I was planning on forming and funding a super team with you. We need at least three for ISS recognition, but four or five would be better. I made a list of a few candidates….”

“I have a third already,” the doctor chuckles as he sits as well, still holding the remote, “a newbie, but she's learning: Werhure. Her name is Angela. She has a complication making it unsafe for her to be alone for now, so she needs to join too IF I'm going along with this. Put her down as a melee powerhouse in the roster.”

“So we have the minimum already, nice…” Fantasia makes some notes on her phone, and continues, “...I was planning on asking Jurassica to fill that role…”

“Someone whose combat capability tops off at a tyrant lizard king has nothing on Angela in a straight up fight…” the doctor considers, “...but she's certainly a very flexible addition, and is good at making sure fights aren't straight up when she needs to. I have no qualms with asking her to sign up.”

Ms. Blackheart smiles, “Good. My next potential is Cowgirl…”

“I know her personally,” Dr. Beaux shakes his head, “She isn't going to want to interrupt her studies… but she'll give it up if I'm involved in the asking. We can ask her to join… AFTER she graduates. Not before.”

“I can see the wisdom there,” the good witch acknowledges, “the last of the three on my A list is Iron Fox.” The woman pauses, as the good doctor has had a comment on every candidate thus far.

Not this one, though, “I'm not familiar.”

“She's fairly new on the scene…” Fantasia shrugs, “flies around in a suit of high tech armor, shoots some very destructive blasts, soaks hits well.”

The doctor raises an eyebrow, “You, a magic user, are actively suggesting teaming up with…” he pauses briefly, considering which word he wants to use for this sentence.

The witch spares him needing to pick for now, “I can see the use for technology, and am not so full of myself as to ignore one of the very few useful allies that can largely ignore the side effects of your healing.”

The doctor nods slowly, “Then you're probably ready to learn the truth of the matter…” The white sheep of the Blackheart family raises an eyebrow, so Benjamin continues, “The supergeniuses making tech only another supergenius can understand, and the magic that only the Gifted can wield? Turns out that your magic and that high-tech technology are almost exactly the same thing: A super power that gives form to the belief of the one gifted with it.”

“That's…” Fantasia shakes her head, “no, I studied these spells, the magical principles behind them.…”

“Just a vehicle for belief," the good doctor chuckles, “Two different mages, when faced with the same written spell, can successfully perform it… but if they're given two different ideas of what it does, they'll get two different results. super-tech… or rather, pseudo-tech… is the same way. Get the invention away from the inventor for a while, and it will simply stop working, unless you hand it to another ‘genius’ who can make it work. It's why nobody buys inventions from the good ‘genius’ heroes… they don't actually work.”

“That…” The Blackheart blinks, “No. No, I'm tied in to the underpinnings of reality by a demonic contract. A **** of will and the right words is what makes the universe bend. I have nothing in common with those pompus….”

“Not quite ready yet, then,” the doctor shrugs, “Well, if you're okay with Iron Fox, I'm willing to meet her. Let's make those calls, eh?”

Fantasia takes a slow breath, “Yes, let's….”