Don't Be a Hero: A Superhero Novel

13: Gently, Gently

Iron Justice

Real name: William Hayne

Powers: Super strength, able to transform skin into metal armour. Metal skin renders him impervious to small arms and low-grade explosions.

Notes: Reported to have survived several direct hits from the Astral Bomber. Faced numerous accusations of physical and sexual assault, but was never formally charged. Left the Manhattan Eight under a cloud of controversy.

—Notes on selected metahumans [Entry #0003]

***

Night fell on Neo-Auckland. Niobe stubbed out her cigarette in the car ashtray, readjusted her mask, and switched her goggles to high contrast.

“Play it clean, mate,” the Carpenter said. He pulled his own mask into place and put on his wide-brimmed hat. He couldn’t come with her; there was no way to get him inside without bringing all of Met Div down on them. He’d be on the outside, guarding her escape.

“Always do,” she said. She wouldn’t be stupid this time. No one would get another look at her face.

The side road they’d parked in was nearly empty, so she pushed open the door and got out. The Carpenter leaned over and stuck his head out the window. “Did I ever tell you you look like Rick Blaine in that coat?”

“Rick who?”

“From Casablanca.”

She shrugged.

“You haven’t seen Casablanca?” He affected an American accent. “‘Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’ That doesn’t ring a bell?”

She turned away, shoved her hands in her pockets, and slipped silently across the road. She didn’t have time for Solomon’s nonsense.

His voice called out after her. “‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.’”

With a shake of her head, she disappeared into the shadows and made her way down the alley to the rear of Met Div headquarters.

Time was ticking away, and they were no closer to finding Sam. If this was a simple kidnapping, she wouldn’t be so worried. Kidnappers who wanted ransom generally didn’t let harm come to their captives. But something weird was going on here, and every day that passed decreased the chances they’d ever find him alive. If they found him at all.

Bloody hell, she needed another cigarette.

The fenced-off car park at the back of the headquarters was deserted. Behind the chain-link fence, cars and vans were lined up in neat rows. She stayed in the shadows and watched for a moment, then something caught her eye. A little white box perched on the brick wall above the rear door. No, not a box. A video camera. That was new.

She touched the side of her goggles and increased the contrast to its maximum, then tried to gauge the camera’s line of sight. It looked out over the car park, probably to stop the division’s vehicles being pinched. But there was a blind spot directly beneath it. Too easy.

She breathed in a lungful of air, held it, and pulled darkness around her. The world flattened out as her body slid into a puddle on the concrete. The rough surface of the alley pressed against her, and her thoughts became flat.

She slipped through the gaps in the fence and sped silently along the dark ground. There weren’t many lights around, but it was still more comfortable to move under the cars, using their shade. As she moved, she became aware of the shadows of cape coppers moving in the building’s windows. Met Div headquarters were never completely deserted, so she’d have to be cautious. Always cautious.