Don't Be a Hero: A Superhero Novel

22: Home, Whatever That Means

Madame Z

Real name: Keira Hall

Powers: Mental projection, telekinesis.

Notes: Joined the Wardens early in their history, and quickly made a name for herself when she removed the mind-control effects of the Mind Spider from fellow supergroup the Patrolmen. Once her homosexual relationships became common knowledge, fundamentalist religious groups began a smear campaign in the media. After the Wardens disbanded, she left Earth for the lunar colony established by the Alpha League.

—Notes on selected metahumans [Entry #0229]

***

“It’s not over yet, mate,” Solomon said as he drove. “With Quanta out of the picture, it’s only a matter of time until we find Sam.”

Niobe had burned through three cigarettes since they started making their way back to the Old City. Now she twirled her last one between her fingers, glaring at it. “We got nothing. That was our one lead, and we blew it. I blew it.”

The night was cooling quickly, but she left the window open a crack to help her think. That goddamn false wall. If she’d found it the first time, before Met Div arrived, Sam would have been there. Someone had taken him while they flew away like frightened pigeons. Maybe it was Met Div, but she didn’t think so. No normal had ripped that door off its hinges.

“We didn’t blow a thing,” the Carpenter said. “You think Met Div could’ve tracked down Quanta and his gang without our help?”

“Yes.”

He paused. “Well, all right, eventually. But how many more people would die before they did? We stopped the clock. Saving lives, catching villains. This is what we’re meant for, Niobe.”

She slammed her fist down on her knee. “Enough, Carpenter. You see those people out there?” She jabbed her finger towards the manicured suburbs. “They don’t want heroes anymore. They hate us. They want to pretend that bad things don’t happen. They want to pretend they’re safe. They want to believe in their shopping malls, and their four-door imported cars, and their bright economic futures. They don’t believe in us anymore, Solomon. They don’t need us.”

He shook his head slowly. “You don’t understand. I don’t think you ever understood.” He reached over and picked up the goggles sitting in her lap. “You’ve always looked at the world through these lenses, but they distort things. Sure, the world is dark sometimes. The world’s not a four-colour comic book. But there’s still good, mate, and there’s still things we have to stand up for.”

“There’s no ‘we’. Not anymore.”

“Of course there is.” He gave her goggles back and rested one hand on the gear stick. “There always will be. You know why those people think they’re safe behind their picket fences? Because most of them are. When superheroes first came along, the world was at war. We were a bright light in a dark room. Metas helped change the world, Niobe. We made it better. And then when peace came, they began to doubt us. And worse, we began to doubt ourselves. They decided there was no more room for superheroes. And we began to believe it too.”

He stared out the windshield. The lights of the skyline reflected off his mask.

“They don’t hate us,” he said. “They just think that if heroes exist, then villains do too. That scares them. But villains exist whether we’re here or not. Someday they’ll realise that. There will always be room for us in this world. Sure, we’ll screw up sometimes, and some of us will do bad things. We’re only human. But we have to keep trying to be better. We can do good, mate. We can be good. Because if we aren’t, who will be?”