About two days later the Cooper siblings were sitting on the patio of a small Irish café, eating lunch. Maxine was texting her boyfriend, Neko, while Maxwell was reading the local paper, seemingly engrossed in an article.
"Y'know Maxine," he said, putting the paper down, and removing his glasses from his face to clean them with a special cloth he kept in his pocket, "it's been about a year since Dad's men threw me from the rooftop."
"And, you're still in a wheelchair," Maxine replied, putting her phone down, mid-text, to focus on her brother, and sipping her tea, "probably gonna stay that way, am I right?"
"Yes, I think so," Maxwell said, opening his paper back up, and putting his glasses back on to read.
Maxine turned her attention back to her phone, and finished the text she had started. Unfortunately, as they went about their seemingly normal lunchtime activities, the Cooper siblings were unaware of the hidden security cameras. Specifically trained on them.
"Have you located them yet?" Dr. Franklin Cooper asked, pacing back, and forth, across a tiled floor, a cigar in his mouth, occasionally puffing out a smoke ring. "They can't hide from me, they don't even know I'm looking."
"Yes sir," a lackey said, "our cameras show that your children are at a café, probably eating lunch."
"Well, they better enjoy it, while they can," Dr. Cooper said, walking up, and staring at the image of his children on a monitor, still chewing his cigar, "If everything goes right, that's the last full meal, they'll have in a long, long time."
"Understood sir," the lackey said, turning around, in his chair, "just one thing."
"What is it?" Dr, Cooper asked, puffing some smoke in his face, "I'm a very busy man."
"C-could you not smoke in here?" The lackey asked, slightly intimidated, "it's not good for the equipment."
"I'll decide what's good for the equipment!" Dr. Cooper shouted.
"It says here, that just off the coast, there might be some hidden Irish hotsprings. Buy no ones ever found them." Maxwell said, reading a different article in his paper, "says they have unique properties, capable of healing, even the most sever of injuries."
"Hey, maybe they could heal your paralysis." Maxine replied, taking a bite of her sandwich.
"Hardy-har-har," Maxwell said, tossing the paper on the table, "it'd take a miracle to heal that, and besides the springs don't exist, its only a myth."
"Well, there's a first time for everything," Maxine said, reading her arms on the table, twiddling her thumbs.
"I don't believe in miracles, Maxine," he replied, brushing some hair from his face, "I don't know, what they teach you at The Academy. Miracles are just fairy tales, designed to entertain small children."
"And yet, that simple idea, is what gives me hope, Maxwell," Maxine said, eating a French fry, "and that hope, is why I'm still here."
"Can science explain your "miracles"?" Maxwell asked, clasping his hands together, resting them on his lap.
"Maxwell," Maxine sighed , rubbing her temples, and looking down at the table, "that's why they're called miracles, because science can't explain them."
"Still don't exist," Maxwell said.
"Of course you don't believe," Maxine mumbled, rubbing her neck, "A miracle is what it would've taken, for you to control your darkness creatures."
Maxine instinctively touched the scar on her neck, remembering when one of Maxwell's creatures had attacked her, being her neck, and drawing blood.
Maxwell looked down for a brief moment, as if considering what Maxine had just said. But only a moment, before shaking it off, and returning to his food.
"So, anyway..." Maxine said, trying to get off the subject of miracles, "there's a tournament in about an hour, could we go watch?"