Don't Be a Hero: A Superhero Novel

23: The Devil in the Details

Skinwalker

Real name: Unknown

Powers: Doppelgänger/shapeshifter.

Notes: The only Manhattan Eight member whose original identity is unclear. It is possible that he himself cannot remember. Skinwalker infiltrated Hitler’s inner circle near the end of World War II, and later did the same in several supercriminal groups, often simultaneously. Distrusted by the American public and even other metahumans, he was the only member of the Manhattan Eight never to be interviewed by the media. Following their disbanding, rumours began to surface that he engaged in deviant sexual practices, including impersonating women to sleep with their unsuspecting husbands. Whereabouts unknown, but presumed dead.

—Notes on selected metahumans [Entry #0006]

***

Solomon picked Niobe up just before noon. The daylight was harsh, and even the birds were hiding from its heat. She wore civilian clothes—the gun in a holster beneath her jacket—and carried her coat, mask, and bodysuit in a bag. She felt like a corpse. She looked like one too, if the mirror had been any indication. Her eyes were sunken, her cheeks marred by deep wrinkles. She’d never felt so old.

Solomon eyed her as she pulled the passenger door shut. He looked like he’d actually managed to get some sleep. Lucky bastard.

“I thought you might’ve convinced Gabby to come along with us today,” he said as he started the car. “Would’ve been fun to actually work alongside the Silver Scarab.”

Her stomach tied itself into a knot, and she stared straight ahead. “Not today. Let’s go.”

She could feel him looking at her, but he kept quiet and drove. They headed out of the Old City, the hot wind blowing through the open windows.

“I talked to my guy at Met Div,” he said. “The reporter, John Bishop, he’s at St. Helen’s.”

“The hospital? He didn’t look injured.”

He shook his head. “Physically, he’s fine. Just a couple of scrapes, probably from some overzealous arresting on Met Div’s part. They gave him a Stanley test to make sure he wasn’t a doppelgänger or anything, then sent him off to the quacks to give him the once over. Probably worried about a repeat of the Cobraman incident.”

She nodded. That had been just before she left the Wardens. After the coppers locked away the supercriminal Cobraman, they started to debrief his hostages. It wasn’t until the hostages started screaming that the coppers discovered Cobraman had surgically implanted vials of acid under the hostages’ skin, set to release on a timer. Only one of the hostages died. He was probably the happiest of all of them, by the end.

“Have Met Div talked to Bishop yet?” she asked.

“Only an initial debriefing, I think. As far as they’re concerned, this thing’s wrapped up. They’re supposed to be talking to him at three in the afternoon to get a formal statement once the head-shrinkers have made sure Quanta didn’t steal his marbles.”

She checked her watch. That didn’t give them much time. Why’d they always have to do this stuff during the day? “Guards?”

“Just one copper posted on the door. Private room on the ward. Sounds swanky.”

“They always did like to impress the media.” She sighed. “Disguises again, I suppose? I don’t think you understand how much I dislike makeup.”

“It gets better.” He leaned over and reached into the backseat, fumbled for a minute, then dropped a paper bag in her lap. “Pour vous, mademoiselle.”